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denkamis · 4 years ago

Note

Can you please write a fluff one shot about a sk8 the infinity like his girlfriend/boyfriend/s/o falls asleep on him

to anon: omg first request omgomg thank you so much for sending one in! i wasn’t sure which sk8 character you were referring to, so i decided to write one for both reki and langa! hope you don’t mind hehe <3 this is the one for reki, the one for langa will take a little bit longer bc of valentine’s & other requests but i hope you like this one regardless!

warnings: none, just some fluffy times with the best boy. reader is gn!

word count: 1.3k

sleepyhead. (reki x reader)

Late nights were certainly not a rare occurrence with your boyfriend, Reki. He was filled to the brim with energy and passion that practically flowed out of him like a geyser. Not that you were opposed to that at all, you found that it was one of the qualities that made you fall for him in the first place. Though, you worried that he wasn’t taking into consideration his own personal health during these late night excursions. Take for instance tonight, as it was slowly approaching two thirty am, it seemed that the redhead had no clear intention of stopping his work.

The two of you were cooped up in his workshop behind his house, Reki singing along to some “cool jams” as he called them. In reality, it was his Spotify playlist of the “best 2000’s alternative” music like Sk8er Boi by Avril Lavigne and Dear Maria, Count Me In by All Time Low. You were barely hanging onto your string of consciousness, the mere idea of sleep sounding like absolute heaven at this very moment. You were propped up on a stool in the corner, the stack of skating magazines Reki had given you to flick through in case you got bored now sat in a neat pile off to the side. You had read each one of them front to back twice already tonight.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love spending time with Reki. You enjoyed listening to his midnight ramblings of whatever came to mind. His ideas for new boards, designs for stickers, and other creative ways to beat his future S opponents were usually his topics of interest. No one really noticed how much of an imaginative person your boyfriend was. He could be impulsive and over excited at times, but his fantastic mind and his willingness to create made your heart soar. Not only that, but he was fairly handy when it came to fixing up and assembling his own boards like he was some mad scientist waiting for one of his many experiments to go right. You indulged him as much as you could, you really did enjoy his company. Even if you would much rather be curled up beside him snuggling in bed rather than hear Reki precariously make his way through the lyrics of Check Yes Juliet for what seemed like the seventh time.

“Reki,” you spoke up finally as the analog clock on the wall indicated the current time of two forty-three am. Reki looked up from Langa’s custom longboard, hair bouncing about despite already being contained by the headband he wore everyday. “Yeah?” he asked, throwing a glance over his shoulder only to see your weary eyelids and tired expression. His entire demeanour melted, lips jutted out in a tiny pout upon seeing his poor baby so tired.

He backed away from his worktable, dancing and tiptoeing across the floor to avoid stepping on any spare parts or tools he had left lying about his mishmash of a workshop.

“Is baby tired?” he cooed, sawdusted fingers beginning to tug and pinch at the corners of your cheeks. You groaned in annoyance, your sleep deprived state causing you to be a tad more irritable at this hour. “Reki,” you repeated in a more serious tone, ember coloured irises meeting your e/c ones. His calloused hands moved to cup your face, warmth enveloping you in a way that felt like home. The scent of pine and the remnants of orange crush soda invaded your senses. He smiled at you with that goofy face of his, the one that Langa constantly teased for being weird. Maybe it was your sleepy nature, but he looked even more gorgeous in the harsh LED lighting of his garage. Tiny strands of his auburn hair fell in front of his face as he tilted his head to the side, his smile growing as he watched your eyes begin to droop.

“Please. Let’s go to bed,” you asked of him as kindly yet firmly as you could. Reki clicked his tongue a bit, thinking for a moment before delivering a cute peck to your nose. “A few more minutes! Then we can head inside, grab a cookie or two and crawl into bed together! It’ll be just a jiffy okay? Here, you can even set an alarm,” Reki was already reaching for his phone in his hoodie pocket so that you could do just as he suggested. He stopped in his tracks as he felt your hands clasp around his hoodie, pulling him close so that you could hug his torso. He laughed at how clingy you could be while being so sleepy, his hand patting atop your head as a form of affection.

“Wow, you really are.. sleeping,” Reki’s voice trailed off as he looked down to be greeted by you completely passed out against him. Your arms held your boyfriend close, your face buried within the fabric of his yellow skater boy hoodie. Soft snores escaped you, your breathing slowed and calm as you finally let your consciousness slip out of your ever fleeting grasp. Reki’s face began to bloom with colour the longer he stared at you, panic setting in as he realized what was truly happening.

You had fallen asleep against him. Oh shit. Oh god. You were asleep against him. That meant you were so comfortable that you just so happened to pass out in his arms. Reki bit back a giddy smile, warmth cascading through him in a form of nothing but love radiating solely for you at nearly three in the morning. His heart thumped rapidly against his rib cage. No matter how long he had been with you, he kept discovering new things about you that made him absolutely lose his mind. You falling asleep against him definitely being one of those many things. You looked so peaceful, so unbothered and safe within his embrace. This warmth you had given him overtook his will to keep working, his hands moving your hair out of the way of your face to kiss your forehead.

“Sorry for making you stay up, sweet baby,” he apologized in a quiet tone. His hands moved your arms to around his neck, using his strength to lift you up and wrap your legs securely around his waist. “I can’t say I’m not grateful for you being here for me, though. You could have left too, yet you stayed here for me,” Reki spoke to your sleeping form. The fact that you had stayed up with him this late made him even more grateful to have you. Reki grunted a bit as he adjusted to the newfound weight of you around him, your hair getting in his mouth and his eyes squinting to find the light switch so that he could flick it off before leaving. Reki was always careful with you, handling you as if you were a sort of glass figurine he barely even had the permission to touch.

“You look so damn cute like this, y’know,” he continued to speak as he maneuvered his way about his house, trying his best to subdue his footsteps and make as little noise as possible. He didn’t want to wake up his mom or little sisters. “Man, I’m so lucky. Seriously really lucky to have someone like you in my life.”

In your sleep, you subconsciously nuzzled your head against his chest. He melted a bit, holding back a tiny noise of happiness as he began to beam like an idiot holding his partner. You were the most amazing person, the person who made him happy every single day without fail, the person who picked him up no matter how much he bailed or got hurt. He loved you more than anything, and he wanted to treat you as well as you treated him. Even if it meant carrying you to bed after a late night of him talking your ear off about skateboarding for three consecutive hours.

all works © denkamis 2021.

tags:

@meilbox

wanna be on the taglist? see this post!

#reki kyan #reki kyan x reader #reki x reader #sk8 the infinity #sk8 the infinity x reader #sk8 x reader #sk8 fluff #denkamis.oneshots #denkamis.requests

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unbridgeabledistances · 4 years ago

Text

okayyy so i had something heavier/hurt-comforty in the works as a gapfiller about mickey processing (bc we all need that!!!) but this fluffy little 3+1 about ian and mickey singing to each other happened instead— i hope u enjoy💞

a 3+1 of 3 times ian sang to mickey, and one time mickey sang to ian (to give context to the absolutely wild 11x09 serenade)

also the biggest shoutout to @southside-forever’s 80s gallavich playlist which has SO many bops and inspired bits of this😌

Mickey didn’t really know when it all started— Ian was always fucking humming these days, always whistling or singing some tune under his breath when he came out of the shower. He was more buoyant recently, lighter— the security gig was going well, and these days it felt like something looming and heavy had lifted, releasing the crooked hunch out of Ian’s shoulders that had taken root the sour morning weeks before as he shoveled Fruit Loops and Jameson into his mouth. Since then, it felt like he and Ian were finally on the same goddamn page for once— like they had a purpose, like they were moving forward.

Or at least, moving forward on the weekdays— but today was a slow, lazy Saturday, and Mickey was still laying in bed in a tank top and boxers, sweaty and entangled in the crumpled sheets, laying back with his head on the pillow and playing some overly-gory sharpshooter game on his phone. He’d been trying to beat this fucking level a million times, but his thumb couldn’t move quickly enough at the pivotal moment when he had to shoot a bunch of enemy forces— he’d been at the game for a good half hour, since when Ian had sleepily stumbled off of the mattress sporting a full bedhead to go take a shower, and Mickey was starting to get a tinny, sharp headache from staring at his phone screen for too long. He was just starting to consider getting up, to peel off his sweaty tank top and head downstairs to grab some coffee— when Ian came into the room from his shower, a fraying towel wrapped around his lower half and his torso slick with excess water droplets. Mickey flickered his eyes up from his game for a moment, taking an… appreciative glance, and then quickly focused his attention back on his pixelated mission as Ian stood in front of the dresser in the cramped bedroom, and started to rustle through the drawers for a t-shirt.

Mickey maneuvered his buff video game avatar through a minefield, biting his lip in concentration— when his sharp focus was suddenly infiltrated by Ian, singing under his breath in an airy tone.

“Ooooooh we’re halfway there.”

Mickey gritted his teeth slightly and tried to pour all his attention into the pivotal moment of the level, but half of his mind was being pulled to listen to Ian’s gravelly voice, continuing to softly murmur to himself in a tone that was ridiculously off-key.

“She says we’ve gotta hoooold on, to what we’ve got—”

Mickey’s phone screen flickered. GAME OVER.

Mickey wanted to throw his phone at the fucking wall. He inhaled, then pressed “Start Game” again, one last time— and again, his focus was disrupted by Ian, singing under his breath as he pulled on his jeans and gently pattered his hands in a rhythm on the top of the dresser— which was endearing and sappy as fuck, sure, but it was not helping Mickey with the task at hand. Mickey puffed out a sharp, frustrated breath, keeping his eyes on his phone screen.

“The fuck are you singing for right now?”

Ian suddenly gave a sheepish smile over his shoulder as he rifled through their sock drawer, like he’d been caught in the middle of doing something wrong.

“Don’t know. Song was just stuck in my head I guess.”

Mickey glared at Ian, pressing his thumb to the screen to pause his game. “Cut that shit out.”

Ian rolled his eyes fondly, sitting on the edge of the mattress to pull on his socks. “You should be thanking me for serenading you with your fucking eighties dad music. I could be singing Carly Rae Jepson right now, or some other pop bullshit that you hate.”

Mickey felt an involuntary, amused smirk split onto his face, and he tried to turn it into a scowl. Fucking adorable motherfucker.

“Okay, tough guy. If anything you should be thanking me for cleansing your ears from the techno garbage that you used to listen to.”

Ian gave a soft smile, shoulders turning fully towards Mickey now that he’d finished pulling on his socks— and then he turned and clambered into the bed, hovering above Mickey and causing Mickey’s fingers to go slack around his phone case. Mickey could smell the warm, freshly-showered scent of him, all cheap bar soap and Old Spice deodorant, and felt the soft press of his t-shirt through Mickey’s thin tank top— an overly worn t-shirt, one of Mickey’s, that stretched just a little too tight over Ian’s torso.

Ian looked down at Mickey, fucking beaming for some reason, his eyes light. He swooped down, pressing a soft, quick kiss above Mickey’s eyebrow. And then—

“Take my haaaand, we’ll make it I sweeear”

Mickey felt an involuntary, uncomfortable chuckle bubble up out of his ribcage. Was Ian fucking… singing? To him? It definitely seemed like it. And as much as he didn’t want it to, because this was fucking sappy and ridiculous and… well, gay— Mickey couldn’t help the fact that his husband leaning over him, breathily singing the tune of one of their goddamn wedding songs in his husky tone-deaf voice, made Mickey’s blood run a little bit hotter; which was bullshit, because absolutely nothing about this should be hot, and it was probably the most disgustingly married thing that Mickey could think of— but apparently everything about Ian, every dorky and fucking god-awful cringey thing that he did, was a turn-on, or at least according to Mickey’s thudding heartbeat and sweaty palms right now.

Ian’s face was still hovering centimeters above his, his eyebrows raised triumphantly and sporting a sappy fucking grin, like he knew how affected Mickey was by this, no matter how much Mickey grumbled and complained and tried to hide it.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “You’re fucking soft, Gallagher.”

Ian just leaned down again, kissing up the slope of Mickey’s neck and biting at his earlobe—and, okay, maybe Mickey could get behind Ian’s singing after all.

Ian’s singing was starting to get fucking ridiculous— and as much as it made something deep inside Mickey feel a light pang of relief, to see Ian being his old bubbly self again in the rhythms of routine and held by the safety net of financial stability because of the security gig that made the air between them less stale, it also meant that they were also around each other pretty much 24/7, and Ian’s serenades were starting to get relentless.

While they pretty much had a common ground in liking nostalgic 80s music, they would still inevitably argue about what music to play in the ambulance every morning— and whatever shitty album they eventually chose to put on, whether it was Ian’s pop garbage of Mickey’s mellower 80s tunes, Ian’s brain would apparently absorb all the songs like a fucking sponge and he’d start singing them all day long—in the kitchen, in the shower, even when they were just laying in bed on their phones and Ian would constantly hum absentmindedly.

Today they were driving to some bougie dispensary in Glencoe, near a bunch of ridiculous mansions on the very outskirts of the city, and it was Ian’s turn to pick the music— Mickey usually elected one of the well-loved CDs that he’d jammed into the glove compartment as they were refurbishing the ambulance, CDs that he’d kept since he was a kid when he piled them high in the corner of his grimy room next to a half-broken boombox— but as much as they were Mickey’s comfort CDs, Ian could only listen to Bon Jovi so many times before he started to slander 80s music as a collective genre.

“Can we just listen to something by someone who isn’t older than us, just this once?”

“Easy for you to say, Gallagher. At least the music that I like has fucking words.”

When it was Ian’s turn to pick the music, he usually picked more modern stuff with heavy beats and a thrumming bass (though more often than not he also appeased Mickey’s tastes with some “80s throwback” playlist he’d found on Spotify that he’d noticed Mickey would bob his head along to)—but on longer drives, like this one, it was easy to butt heads about the soundtrack. Ian had allowed Mickey to play through one of his Queen CDs that morning, and then Ian had put on some whiny indie bullshit from a playlist on his phone for the other half of the drive— now they were heading home after a long day, with the stereo turned low to a local radio station.

They’d settled into a comfortable silence, as they often did at the end of the day when their energy faded— Ian had stopped pattering his hands on the steering wheel like he usually did when he was amped up and buzzing with energy in the mornings, and Mickey could tell they were both ready to collapse onto the couch the second they set foot in the door.

Mickey blew out a deflated breath and reached to turn up the radio, tuning in to some middle-aged host with a cheery voice chattering about the heat wave in Chicago that upcoming weekend—and then the airwaves went silent, and there was the overdramatic sound of a slamming door and a gospel choir.

Ian’s ears nearly fucking perked up at the sound as the opening chords began.

“Life is a mystery… Everyone must stand alone…”

Ian immediately raised his voice to join in, the tired slouch leaving his shoulders.

“I hear you call my naaaame”

He turned to Mickey and pointed overdramatically, causing Mickey to shove his arm away but unable to quell the overly fond grin that he knew was blooming on his face.

“And it feels like… home.”

The beat dropped, rolling into the chorus, and Ian energetically drummed his hands against the steering wheel once more.

“C’mon, Mick!” Ian laughed, throwing his head back dramatically as he sang while still trying to keep his eyes on the road.

“When you call my name, it’s like a little prayer, I’m down on my knees, I wanna take you there.” Ian’s pitchiness clashed with the melody, but he was too focused on singing and bopping side to side in this seat to really care.

Mickey rolled his eyes, his lips still turned upwards at the corners while he watched his absolute dork of a husband jamming to Madonna. “Isn’t this song about giving someone a blowjob or some shit?”

Ian gave an easygoing laugh. “Technically, yes. And it’s also definitionally a gay anthem, which means you have to sing with me.”

Mickey scoffed and flipped Ian off. “Fuck off.”

Ian raised a playful eyebrow, and continued to sing with relentless eye contact:

“It’s like a dreeeeam, no end and no beginning”

Mickey felt heat rise into his cheeks against his will. No fucking way was he going to sing a Madonna song about a blowjob stone-cold sober at 2pm on a Tuesday while driving home from work with his fucking husband—which, wow, that was probably the gayest sentence that had ever crossed Mickey’s mind in his 26 years of existence (which was definitely saying a lot).

This wasn’t ever a place Mickey thought he’d be in— sitting beside Ian so comfortably, singing fucking songs while they drove home from their daily commute; getting to soak up all the warmth, all the brightness that had always radiated out of Ian so intensely that it nearly blinded him, a warmth that he’d always wanted to lean in closer to even when they were just scrawny kids in a shitty neighborhood still figuring everything out.

Maybe, just maybe— it was okay to lean in a little more.

By the time the chorus rolled around the third time, Mickey was begrudgingly humming along, like he usually did whenever the songs that Ian was singing on and endless loop got stuck in his own head and popped up while he was brushing his teeth or making toast for breakfast— by the time the final rhythmic chorus faded to silence on the radio waves, Mickey glanced over at Ian, singing at the top of his lungs, face slightly flushed and grinning ear to ear.

“Just like a prayer, your voice can take me there.”

Ian and Mickey were walking down the moonlit sidewalk, veering back home after an evening at Lip’s— the night had honestly been weirdly enjoyable, which was definitely a welcome reprieve from all of Lip and Debbie’s intense back-and-forths about the house over the past few weeks. Tami and Lip had needed to go over to Brad and Cami’s for some bullshit crisis management about the stolen bikes, and Ian had readily agreed to watch Freddie— which meant that whether he liked it or not, Mickey had spent his Friday evening at Lip’s half-packed apartment watching Ian coo over a one-year-old, which was… not a totally unwelcome sight.

Trying to keep his shit together, Mickey had snapped a picture to send to the Gallagher family group chat, and everyone had immediately given them shit about being so eager to babysit and get their hands on a toddler like a couple of baby-crazed newlyweds—which had caused Mickey to start overzealously complaining in the groupchat to compensate while Ian occupied Freddie. Kev had noticed the texts and swung by Lip and Tami’s house after closing the Alibi to keep the two of them company, bringing by a pack of beers—and now he and Ian were warm and happily buzzed, relieved of their babysitting duties and walking the chilly city streets back towards the Gallagher house.

Halfway through the walk Ian had interlaced their fingers, and now their arms were swinging slightly as they turned the final corner to walk down the last stretch of pavement towards the chain-link fence—when suddenly, Ian stopped cold a few houses away from the Gallagher front porch. He looked down at Mickey, raising their entangled hands and pressing a kiss to the inside of Mickey’s wrist.

Mickey raised an eyebrow in confusion, and Ian just looked back at him—his cheeks glowing pink from the few beers, his eyes light and unguarded under the streetlamps.

“This spot reminded me of something.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. Of fucking course it did. Ian was a sappy motherfucker on the best of days, but with a couple of beers in him he was practically uncontrollable.

“What?”

All of a sudden Ian let go of his hand, punching into the air dramatically.

“Cause love is a battlefiiiield”

Mickey laughed, feeling warm hot blood rush to his cheeks in delight—and fuck, he loved his husband so goddamn much. And just this once, mostly because of the own alcohol running thick in his bloodstream, Mickey made the lurching decision to join in, stepping closer towards Ian and raising his hands equally as dramatically.

“No promises, no demands”

“Woooooah”

Ian had practically doubled over with laughter, tears welling in the corner of his eyes—and Mickey let himself get lost in it, the warm feeling buzzing through his body, of love and joy and fuck knows what else, getting to sing on a fucking street corner with his husband a decade after everything had gone so gut-wrenchingly wrong, leaving him bleeding on this same pavement.

They stumbled over their own feet up the stairs, fumbling out of their clothes and collapsing into bed—and later, just as Mickey was on the brink of fading into unconsciousness, Ian mumbled the same refrain into the crook of Mickey’s neck in a sleepy voice, like the song was still stuck in his head and he just couldn’t help it.

“Love is a battlefield.”

It was late— it was one of those slow, tender nights when the past was hanging heavy over them, laying pressed together in bed as thin streams of moonlight poured in through the blinds, pressing whispers into each other’s skin about all of the hurt and the doubt that had been seeped up and healed with time.

Ian was sprawled back on the bed and Mickey was laying with his head resting on his chest, feeling his ribcage expand and contract each time he took a breath. They’d absorbed so much the past few weeks— the sick, twisted blows of a loss that felt all the more jagged and painful because of how muddled the grief for Terry was—but after a few days had passed they’d found a place to settle, in the comforting press of the silence in their bedroom.

Mickey was mindlessly playing with Ian’s fingers, listening to his steady breathing—and without thinking, he ran a finger over the cool silver of Ian’s wedding band, letting out a breathy chuckle.

“I still can’t believe we’re married sometimes, man.”

Mickey could feel Ian’s lips curve upward into a smile from where his mouth was pressed against the top of Mickey’s head.

“Yeah, me either.”

And Mickey felt something bubbling, something welling— and he didn’t ever fucking sing, not unless Ian made him, but Ian was always fucking dropping song lines into sappy moments like this.

So he took a breath, and, half-singing but mostly talking, in a way that sounded almost mocking if it wasn’t so soft around the edges, he let out into the dark silence of the room:

“At last….”

He wasn’t even singing, not really—he was just sort of… saying the words in a singsongy way, but he knew that Ian could tell what he was doing, what he was trying to do. He was trying to be as fucking sweet and soft and pliant as Ian was, as Ian always was in moments like this, in a way that sometimes made Mickey feel brittle and hard in comparison. This time, Mickey wanted to breathe out the love he had for him into this moment, the love that made his ribcage feel like it was going to fucking burst— a love that he felt erupting outwards when Ian had played this song for him for the first time a few weeks before the wedding, and had asked with a shy smile, “D’you think it’d be okay if you walked down the aisle to this song?”

Ian’s chest shook with laughter, and he carded a hand through Mickey’s hair. And then, in his gentle, sleep-soft voice, in a breathy tone that tickled the shell of Mickey’s ear:

“My looove has come along”

Mickey rolled his eyes fondly, just to prove something to himself, even though he knew Ian couldn’t see him—and then he reached a hand upward and leaned back, drawing Ian’s chin forward to press his lips to his for a brief, lingering moment.

Mickey settled back against Ian’s chest again, and felt Ian press a kiss to the top of his head. He smiled contentedly, closing his heavy eyelids.

Maybe being a couple of sappy motherfuckers wasn’t so bad.

#i wrote this so fast bc it is midterms szn and i am a busy bee! but simply needed to get this out of my brain #i love y’all and hope u enjoy the softness!!#also @ the anon asked me for more drunk happy husbands here u go<3 #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian x mickey #ixm #ian and mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich fanfiction

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jiminrings · 4 years ago

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Can I request a drabble, hobi is kinda like a band singer and Y/N is like his old time friend and they like had a falling out bc he got super successful but years after they're like together again? IS IT TOO SPECIFIC UHM :")

parallel

pairing: hoseok x y/n

wordcount: 4k

glimpse: hobi’s kind of an asshole and is vERY much emotionally repressed, y/n’s serotonin is dependent on wearing bridesmaid gowns, the dwindling one-sided pining anD the everlasting question of where the fuck was hoseok when you needed him :D // gif is from pinterest!

notes: this drabble really hits close to home and tysm for the request babe!! even if i’m a month late yeesh :O

you can’t believe yourself either when you say it

but holy shit — weddings are definitely your thing!

there’s something about the union of marriage that gets your head into overdrive but in a gOOD way

there’s just something so pulling about last-minute changes and family drama and awkward trips to the restroom that make your mind mHMMMM THIS IS IT CHIEF

yea granted that not every wedding you go and participate in isn’t exactly straight out of a rom-com

lmao sometimes it’s so obvious that the bride doesn’T love the groom but hey!!! who’s keeping tabs :D

you love wedding environments so much that here you are, two years out of uni and a couple of gigs later — couples are LITERALLY fighting over you

heh not to brag but uh

you weren’t recognized as best wedding planner for two years in a row and have your face in multiple covers of bridal magazines and such

time magazine recognized you as one of the most influential people in the scene last year but hey !!!!! no big deal lads

“i am asking you for just one minute, y/n!! stop being a wedding planner and start being my maid of honor!!”

nayeon exasperates and tugs you by your sleeve, having already noticed your second nature of taking charge the moment you entered the hall

after all, this is just cake tasting! that’s why she’s brought her maid of honor to help her out, nOT immediately go fishing for a clipboard

“well if the planner you hired wasn’t so sloppy-...” it’s a fact! he relies too much on his tablet and doesn’t even have any paper with him, and even if he’s already using a tablet, he doesn’t even use different colors to mark out!

apparently nayeon can’t handle the truth because she’s stamping her hand to your mouth that’s already a frown, about to suffocate you if only you didn’t bite it

>:|

y/n - 1 | jisoo’s hand - 0

you’re just a lil bit cranky alright

the last wedding you’ve catered to was just three days ago, and well you’re thankful for your job!!! really!!! bc not everyone is as booked as you nor sought-for

but there’s something about her wedding that puts you off :((

she’s very kindly yet firmly told you that no, you would absolutely not be her wedding planner and coordinator

“b-but i-“

“i want you to relax! and it’s-...”

“we said-“

“we said when we were kids that we’d plan each other’s wedding, but we didn’t swear on it! and i want you to-...”

“y-you told-“

“i told you that we didn’t have a wedding planner yet so you’d intentionally clear your schedule for me! and here we are-...”

“i’ll cry-“

“aww you big baby, save it for the wedding! i told you, just relax, m’kay? let yoongi handle the planning, and you do the unwinding.”

goddamn yoongi

yoongi who’s a wedding planner in his sPARE time could fuck right off

you don’t care if he’s very persuasive and firm and happened to book nayeon’s wedding even it was peak season :((

you don’t wanna admit it, but being a wedding planner has basically been your personality trait for the past years and it’s hard to cope when your job is to not.... plan and worry

anyways besides that

you’re a little iffy because nayeon’s wedding is your wake-up call

you’ve been planning weddings.... but uh when the FUCK is yours

u are so tempted to put a sock over your head and just yell gIVE ME A RING!!! PUT IT IN THE BAG

unfortunately, you don’t even have someone in your life to readily propose to you

you would have had someone, actually —

if only hoseok didn’t wake up one day and decide to remove you from his life

if only your childhood friend didn’t suddenly decide that you’re not worthy of his attention and time!!!

god he thinks he’s a bigshot

and well yea ok he IS a bigshot

who doesn’t know jung hoseok at this point :((

you’ve always figured that he’d be successful at whatever path he chooses and for a moment, you feel sorry for him that he’s stuck in such a state of mundaneness

he’s stuck between home and school and since he has no choice — you

your each other’s day one!!! the moment your mom went home from the hospital, her first instinct was to knock on hoseok’s mom’s door and then iMMEDIATELY present you to her

the two of them are absolute best friends and why not make our babies the same way ya know????

the two of you were apparently so close as babies that when one was crying, the other would comfort

and you weren’t even a year old then????

you’ve shared cribs and milk bottles and clothes and everything in between with hobi

so why is it that when you’re just almost at the peak of your life with graduation, he just suddenly decides to drop you?

he’s suddenly too cool for you as if he hasn’t spent countless nights crying on your shoulder for any inconveniece that gets brought up

he can’t even meet your eyes :(((

that’s why graduation is the blandest and emptiest day you could recall

hoseok is over there with his bandmates looking the absolute hAPPIEST and you’re there by the corner.,.,. alone by yourself feeling like your cap has the words dropped by jung hoseok :D all over it

he’s at his peak and at the top of his life performing and touring, whenever and wherever

he’s happy

but without you in it :(

the irrational (and probably rational) part in your head is beyond infuriated at him because atleast offer an explanation!!! if you did wrong at one point, then he should tell you!!!

not suddenly pretend that you were nEVER in his life

even his mom feels guilty and ashamed over his son’s actions so she orders flowers from the shop signed underneath your company, then send it back to you

for awhile she tried to pretend that it was hoseok but no :((( that man will physically convulse if he doesn’t add (atleast) three hearts after his name

you hate him so much that you still religiously visit his instagram and wonder if he could see your likes despite a couple other million liking the same posts

you hate him so much that he’s number one on every single thing in your spotify wrapped

you hate him sO much that you wonder who’s behind the songs his band plays and how you’d wish that you’d be the one he’s writing about

“is the cake that... perfect?”

nayeon gently places a hand on your shoulder to which you flinch and she backs off because christ i’m nOT taking the cake away from you!!!

oh my god why are you tearing up

“yeah, yeah! it’s so good. you should try it nayeon!” you’re scrambling to scrape up your plate, almost shoving the fork into her mouth as she squeals with the sudden attack

yoongi has ???? hovering around his head but this is nOT about you my man

he sneaks a look to the bride’s plate and uh-huh... yup..... she has the same moist chocolate fudge cake with coffee ganache on her alright

the topic of hoseok that you bring up to yourself, one that no one knows (not even nayeon!!!), is just something that never seems to vacate your mind fully

it’s been two years and you’re still so touchy and you dON’T KNOW WHY

he probably doesn’t even think about you when he’s drunk and bored

“this champagne must be so... nice?”

nayeon thinks out loud as you’re once again crying into doing your maid of honor duties

she’s a lil worried if she’s being honest but you always whisk her away when she’s about to ask

like right now :D

“are you-...”

“i just can’t believe you’re getting married!! wow, you’re so cool. with the love of your life. then the two of you could be cool together after the wedding. you aren’t gonna forget me once you’re married, are you? nayeon do you think that i would ever be married-...”

you should just accept it now :((

you’re a little bit of a mess and a half underneath your pantsuits and walkie-talkies and the special pride you’d carry whenever the couple mentions you in their wedding speeches

absolutely WHY in the hell do you think about hoseok when it comes to weddings???

it’s almost a pavlovian response when you instruct the people to open the doors and the bride to start walking and your mind would iNSTANTLY think about him

it’s sometimes awkward when the couple would ask ah !!!! ms. y/n u are such a world-renowned wedding planner !!!! your own wedding must’ve been magnificent :D

aha actually about dat.,.,

you get tons of gifts of gratitude from just a single client alone and you don’t have hoseok and his stupidly powerful arms to help carry boxes back to your car

you don’t have him to give untouched and left-over flowers to

you don’t have him to remind you when you’re getting a little ahead of yourself over just talking to sponsors and trying to squeeze in as much as you could for an initial budge

you don’t have hoseok, in all his glory, to put his hand on the small of your back when you’re talking to how you need the fireworks to start the moment the band starts playing ice ice baby and the vendor does nOT need to know why it’s the song chosen by the couple

it’s what he’d do when you’re trying to fit two semesters’ worth of notes into a pricey A3 notebook that you’ve bought

and just how many weddings do you plan and coordinate, even within just a span of two week?

a lot.

often.

you think about hoseok a lot. often. oftenly a lot.

but aha nOT TODAY!!!

today’s nayeon’s wedding and you’re not gonna ruin it for her by projecting your yearning into your best friend’s wedding that clearly isn’t yours

10/10 she’d probably stop reciting her vows to ask you why you’re sniffling

your only source of distraction is your gown!!!

your maid of honor is the absolute pRETTIEST and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel gorgeous in it

it’s floor-length silk!!! fLOOR-LENGTH !! SILK !! GOWN

it’s in a deep mauve with an off-shoulder situation and a little risqué bit of cleavage!!! cinches right at the top of your waist and poofs a little and oh my god mayhaps you aRE pretty

god hoseok may have not written you a song, but sean kingston dEFINITELY did

nayeon knew you’d be catching everyone’s attention as much as her wedding dress would and she’s absolutely happy and fine with it!!

in fact she’s strategically practiced her throws for her bouquet so you’d catch it and your gown would nOt go to waste

having a wedding happen right where you are, but being in it as a guest instead of a planner, is just so much... calmer

you’re not fixing the chaos but you’re just watching it!!! if you feel a little more bubbly then you’re gonna partake in it hee-hee

yoongi’s actually not so bad

he could just be a little too lax which ends up with him being lost and distraught

you could see so much of you in him when you were just starting out and it’s endearing actually

(( nayeon’s told you in passing that she once told yoongi that you were her best friend and he looked both intimidated and awed at the same time ))

the only thing you help yoongi with is sending him a thumbs-up every now and then and he perks uP because that’s the signal that he’s doing a good job and not fucking up

nayeon looks so beautiful and you’re already tearing up fixing her veil :((

you know how wedding photographers and videographers LOVE people crying???? they r probably eating your shit up so quick that you won’t be surprised if you take up atleast half of the same-day edit of their wedding film

there’s something so serene about the hecticness everyone’s indulged themselves in

you’re grinning when you walk down the aisle because you realize that omg you haven’t doNE this in a long time!!!

the last time you did was testing out the aisle for a client that wanted it ala crazy rich asians and you had to walk back and forth cOLD-ASS water with damp rolled-up pant cuffs before they got the temperature and the levels right

nah you should definitely know how it’d be because after all :D you aRE the consultant for that scene in crazy rich asians :D no biggie :D

it’s such a serene blast to see everyone happy and in their element

you’re sitting the reception out bc yoongi very kindly pleaded to please give him notes and promising that he’d never tell it to anyone else

the whole planning process for nayeon and not oNCE did he bring a notebook..,., but he just hAPPENS to have one when you’re telling him how to say no to your client

“listen, you have to tell them in the sincerest way possible, that you tried everything. it gets them going when you tell them that you even pleaded with the vendors, but don’t go too low on your knees, alright? and then after that, you say a strict no. no, because their choice of flowers is absolutely sHIT for their tie-dye theme they’re so adamant about!”

yoongi has never listened so intently

not even when his roommate lists out their grocery checklist

“mhmm. and if they still push, should i give them an ultimatum? or tell them about a wedding that totally happened that did exactly what they were planning, and how much the guests hated it?”

okay nOW he’s talking

“what you do is...”

the buzz of the reception never really dies down because it’s barely even starting!! the couple’s still finishing up on their pictorial which gives everyone time to get to the venue and freshen up or get last-minute gifts lmao

you know that it’s starting when the band or the dj starts doing polished mic checks

mic check! one, two, three! sKRRRRRRRRRRRRRRA

no, no

there’s something definitely wrong

the rolling and the lull of routine words just seem so familiar

mic check! J-A-Y! H-O-P-E! J-HOPE! jung-...

fucking

gOD

that’s hoseok.

that is most dEFINITELY hoseok

you turn your back to see the stage set-up and god...... fuck

it’s someone you haven’t seen in the flesh for two years yet spent the years of your life with before that

he looks sickening in his black mandarin-collared suit with thick white lining on it wITH his hair styled up and parted to the site

it’s even more sickening for you because you don’t actually know if you can mANAGE to be here

you’re standing up abruptly and yoongi squawks at that because he is the furthesT thing from being finished about asking how to make the guests arrive on time without holding a field trip assembly-like type of line with the megaphone

the fastest way out was dashing through the front part and you must have forgotten that hoseok has a knack for catching things with his perfectly good eyesight

“y/n?”

ok what now

he mumbles your name to the mic, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes trail the speed-walking speck of mauve from in front of him

his little question to himself must have gotten people more than curious

they’re already mORE than curious because it’s his goddamn band that’s playing!!!! and the fees are not cheap and it’s practically impossible to book them!!!

but jungkook, their drummer, was a close friend of the groom’s and alright.,.,. okay maybe we CAN play at weddings now

ok hoseok’s mind is probably just playing tricks on him and he should finish setting up before the lights dim again for what they insist is the 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓻

but then he can’t help but look oNE last time

then he sees the watch he’s gifted you on his wrist — one that he was supposed to give you at graduation but later made his mom give it to you instead and not say that it was from him

...

....

whew he might need his inhaler for this one and he doesn’t even hAVE asthma

oh my god what the hELL is hoseok doing here????

you haven’t seen him for two years, and the moment you do, it’s in your best friend’s wedding with no date present??

you’re clearly panicking and the only form of caffeine you’ve gotten is the pre-game of getting a few bites from the coffee ganache in nayeon’s wedding cake that she was munching on while getting her makeup done

you know what!! it’s fine

it’s totally fine :D

hoseok is just hoseok and you’re not gonna be intimated by the man you’ve been loving in the sidelines from practically your whole life :D

it’s not a big deal!

besides, people are looking for you bc you’re supposed to give the opening toast to welcome nayeon and her groom in

you’re walking, you’re talking, aaaaaaaand-

yeah this is not nOT a big deal

you’re crumbling from the inside out because seeing hoseok is just too painful after two years of wondering where you could’ve went wrong and what could’ve happened if the two of you didn’t fall out

you feel especially bitter when hoseok starts singing their famous song about love and everything in between

everyone’s sWOONING and on their feet and you’re literally just there vibrating with how furious you are

you keep downing the good champagne as iF it’s gonna get you drunk

yoongi has a clue that the server must be a little dizzy having to go and back forth to your table so he just offers his portion to you

you’re so goddamn busy and absorbed with loathing him that you don’t even turn your back to notice that his eyes keep flickering to you

even at the cheesiest lyric, hobi expects that you’d atleast LOOK at him for that one but nOOOO your champagne flute and the blondie beside you is just much more interesting

you’re buzzing with anger that you aren’t enjoying this reception At All

you fail to even recognize that nayeon’s intentionally had your favorite food to be served!!! and you have an extra portion delivered to your table!!!

you just want your suffering to eND wow absolutely how much longer could this go

you’re so busy with cussing the whole ordeal in your head that you didn’t even notice how the band isn’t playing anymore and instead everyone’s swooning over the cake

it’s lost in you that hoseok’s shooed yoongi from his chair, sitting right beside you and even scooting closer until his knees bump to your own

and that’s when it sinks in

hobi doesn’t even have time to tell you how beautiful you look because you’ve gone straight to seething him

“for the record, i want you to know that i hate you.”

...

okay hoseok didn’t expect that

for all he knows, the two of you even vOWED to never say the h word even if it’s meant jokingly!!

it’s a lethal word and the two of you collectively agreed to never play with it in regards to saying to one another

but well here you are

you’re saying it as if you’ve never been more sure of anything in your whole life

you feel actually relieved to say it to him right to his face, a miniscule weight lifted from your shoulders while your arms are crossed just by looking at him

hoseok does you one better with a timid chuckle, looking down on his rings that he’s fiddling with nervously

“yeah. i hate me too.”

.... oh

you’re perplexed at his reply so much so that you’re speechless

you’ve been keeping to yourself what you should say to him the moment you see him for two years and now that he agrees to what you’ve just said.,.,.,

oh fuck that

“i hate you so much, hoseok! i don’t even know what i did wrong and i asked even your own mother what’s wrong with me! did you know that you are, without a doubt, so fucking selfish???”

you exclaim as quietly as you could but that doesn’t stop people from glancing because the two most-known people in the room, besides the bride and groom, are having what seems to be an... intimate conversation with how close the two of you are??

“did you even try once to consider how painful it was for me to wonder why i just am the way that i am? or is that even too big of an inconveniece for you to think about because you’re so busy?”

“did you suddenly get too big for me, huh?” you ask straightly without malice, not even thinking about the double meaning because clearly, you’re too PRESSED lightly jabbing your finger to his chest

right he deserves that

hoseok’s fucked up big-time, that much he knows

his eyes are actually stinging right now and he would ask you for your handkerchief that you used to always carry for him but uH he thinks he doesn’t deserve any of that

“why couldn’t you just tell me what was in your mind? you know that nothing would change whatever it was that-”

“i love you, okay?”

hoseok interrupts you with his mumble before he sets his eyes down once again on your watch

you’re speechless for long this time

“..... w-what?”

okay maybe he fucked up even more

“listen i-...”

“if you love me, a single text wouldn’t have hurt, hobi!!”

your chest doesn’t hurt anymore but it iS constricting with the amount of emotions and scenarios you’re trying to process

he’s kinda lost because oh my god you aren’t mAD anymore!!

and you don’t look fazed that he just declared his love for you

“i dropped you because i-i — i don’t want the people i love seeing me fuck up, y’know? i finished uni for the sake of it, and i didn’t even know if the band thing would work out!!”

“but baby it dID work out!!!!”

jesus christ hoseok may be a fucking iDIOT

you’re shaking him by the shoulders and he actually has to stand up so he wouldn’t fall by your ministrations

you feel so happy because your processing was just about to be finished, equal parts relieved and happy and maybe a tiny bit confused still

“it did work out because look at you now!! hobi, you could’ve just called me and i would’ve accepted the call before it even rings!!” you’re happily frustrated with him that you push him until the two of you are in the dance floor, his mouth curving up both in disbelief and giddiness

“i didn’t because i thought-...”

he’s interrupted by a swift and tight hug to his middle, his arms moving on their own to envelope you in his warmth

the top of your head still smells the same :D

his purpose is lost before he gathers his bearings once again, freezing in his stance before weakly attempting to push you off

“... you were married.”

the harsh sQUINT of your eyes you’re giving him prompt him to explain

why is he so nervous

“i-i go to your instagram? and well you uh, you posted this pic of you in the middle of the aisle???? you had your back turned and your silhouette’s seen then you were holding a bouquet!!! then after that, i-i never opened your account. jesus christ, is your husband here with you, y/n? what am i supposed to-...”

the realization’s starting to sink into hoseok because it’s something he’s shoved to the back of his head and now he’s seeing it straight-on

you’re throwing your head back laughing at him :D

great

now he’s both heartbroken AND a fool

there’s a gentle kiss on his cheek, one he didn’t expect and one he doesn’t hate

“i’m a wedding planner.”

god now this is just so fucking funny

the two of you fell out and remained distanced because of just a series of unprecedented miscommunications!!!

the whole thing is so ridiculous that it actually feels light and relieving to talk about

“you’re.... a wedding planner,” he mumbles once again for confirmation, his loose arms around your waist now tightening

oh my god

hoseok starts chuckling to himself out of delight, turning to full-on cackles with you at how much the two of you have just been beside each other like parallel lines

“i need to make up the past two years to you.”

he declares seriously as a promise, pressing a tender wet kiss to your cheek that gets you giggling

“only if you write me a song,” you do him one better, kissing him on the corner of his mouth

“don’t you know that most of them are about you? anyways, you should plan our wedding once it happens,” he’s forward with his words, having waited long enough that he nuzzles his nose to yours

you’re gonna do him one even better

you’re gonna go right for the kill, the truth spilling out of you before you kiss him longingly, for the first time that it feels that it’s been something you’ve always yearned for

“don’t you know that you’re in my mind for every single one?”

#feedback pls and thank you :D YEEEEET LAST PIECE FOR 2020!!!!#hoseok #jung hoseok #hoseok imagine #hoseok imagines #hoseok drabble #hoseok drabbles #hoseok au #hoseok oneshot #hoseok oneshots #hoseok x reader #hoseok x y/n #hoseok angst #hoseok angst imagine #hoseok fluff #hoseok fluff imagine #hoseok fluff imagines #hoseok fic rec #hoseok fic recs

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smashbrandiscooch · 4 years ago

Note

can i get post-tlou2 hcs with mullet and 3 finger!ellie? like how the relationship is after all those events and how maybe the romantic/sexual aspects are diff idk. i just feel like she needs some love and attention after all that shit!!

Post-Epilouge Ellie Headcannons

Lol this is so hella random and kinda short, but you’re so very true anon

SFW

Flipping out whenever Ellie comes back missing half of her hand

But you’re somehow not surprised whenever she comes back to tell you that she didn’t kill Abby

“No, I-I couldn’t do it..” Ellie looking down at the floor as you pulled her into a bone-crushing hug

Waking her up by pressing kisses all over her face

Or blowing raspberries into her neck if you know she’s awake lol

She only needs the three fingers tho 😏😏

But that doesn’t apply to the guitar at all

Listening to her trying to play the guitar is heartbreaking

She gets so frustrated if she can’t play a song for you

It’s her way of telling her that she loves you, without actually having to say it

Most def whips out her guitar and sings you wonderwall or creep if she could lol

Motivates you to learn the guitar from Ellie so you can help her play 🥺🥺

Whenever you told her that, her heart popped out of her chest

Oml she thought it was so sweet

Her trying her best to point out the different clefs with her fingers

But the dots on Joel’s guitar help make it easier to get the notes right

Sitting next to Ellie/in her lap and playing the fretboard while she’s strumming the pickups

And wrapping your arms around each other’s waist

Getting her a guitar clip for her birthday, so she can go through a song without any trouble

It was her favorite gift that you’ve gotten her

But she loves it whenever you ask her to play guitar with you tho

“Oh my god, Ellie, for the love of god would you stop with the finger guns?”

Throwing her other hand up into a finger gun and smirking, “You can’t ever stop me.”

Even makes the little ‘pew’ noises to piss you off lol

Running your hands through her hair whenever she’s going through a panic attack

Or humming the tunes to songs that she’s sung to you

But her favorite is whenever you draw with her, to help clear her mind

You’d spend all day drawing with Ellie, it’s so soothing and relaxing

Especially when there’s music in the background

Grabbing both her hands and squeezing gently bc you can still technically properly hold her hand

Because your Spotify is literally Ellie lmao

Giving Ellie extra love after everything happened with Joel & Santa Barbara, and to be extra patient with her if she’s going through episodes

Ellie surprising you with doodles every now and then

She’s just thankful that Abby didn’t fuckin’ bite off the other half of her hand lol

She’d go crazy if she wasn’t able to create art

“You like it? How about you hang it up?”

Putting you into a hug while she watches you admire her art

But purposely acting like you hate it to fuck with her often lol

“Ew, what the hell is this?”

Ellie’s brows raising up in concern bc she actually thinks that you don’t like it

Shooting up from laying across the couch, and grabbing it out of her hands

“You know, I hate it so much that I’m gonna hang it up,” Walking down the hallway while talking shit lol, “Gonna wake up everyday and see how ugly it is.”

Ellie following behind you and rolling her eyes

Lol you now have Ellie’s sketches in a little corner in the room you share with her

Putting them in picture frames all over the house if you have them

And Ellie thinking it’s the cutest

#ellie williams/reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie/reader #ellie x reader #smashbrandiscooch #mine

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bijoharvelle · 4 years ago

Text

doing these prompts! today is “songs/mixtapes” and it’s dedicated to @prayedtoyou bc she had a hard few days & i love her read the whole series! jack’s on the road playlist

Not much changed, a few months out from killing God -- aside from the general sense of relief that settled over them all once they realized, yes, this was it, this was really it, it was all over.

There were still cases, though far less. All of it reminded Dean of those first few years with just him and Sam: no demons, no angels, no gods. Just ghosts and ghouls, a wendigo here and there. Things that have been crawling through the brush long before Chuck started writing his stories.

But then, deep in the roiling heat of late-July, Jack tracked into family movie night looking contemplative and nervous. Dean is already mostly asleep against Castiel’s shoulder but one look at the kid’s face has Sam smacking him awake.

“I...think I want to leave,” Jack tells them, hands playing behind his back.

He explains, in that stilted, thoughtful way of his, that all he’s known, really, is this. Is hunting and Heaven and Hell and destiny. The pockets of other things that he’s got to experience have been enjoyable and he wants more of that. He wants to see more of the country, of the world, wants to meet more of the humans that they all saved.

“I want,” he sums up with a beaming grin, “to go on a road trip.”

Later that night, when they’re sprawled on the bed that now remembers both Dean and Cas, Dean asks tentatively, “Would you want to go with him?” This is still a little new, them being a them, them finally solidifying ten years plus of looks and waiting. Dean isn’t necessarily sure how to do this thing but he is sure that the last thing he wants to do is the wrong thing. Cas doesn’t love anything in the world more than Jack, he knows that.

Cas blinks up at the ceiling. He waits so long to answer that Dean is half-wondering if he hadn’t heard. “I would,” he replies, finally. “Yes. But when I talked to Jack he was adamant about going on his own.”

Dean nods, a little relieved. They would have made it work, whatever the answer had been. But he’s glad it’s this. Selfishly, he’s glad that he and Cas aren’t setting out on the open road again so soon. He’s glad that they have more time to....do nothing. To nest and to rest and to revel in each other. To have a home without the threat of something always looming.

“Dunno how I feel about that,” Dean finally says, arms behind his head. They’re side by side, not even touching, but fuck it’s nice to just lay next to the guy. “I know he’s learned a lot and all but it still feels like letting a three-year-old out on the world.”

Cas breaths out something close to a laugh, nodding his agreement. He tips his head to the side, meeting Dean’s eyes. “We’ve taught him well enough, I think. But I will...miss him. A lot.”

Something strikes at Dean’s memory. A late-eighties model Ford F-250 and an angel with clipped wings. Rolling onto his side, he props himself on one arm and admits, a little haltingly, “You know. That tape I made you. The Zeppelin one. I did that ‘cause -- Well, ‘cause I missed you, when you weren’t around. And I thought, like, maybe when you’d play it, you’d think of me, like I was thinking of you.”

Something soft and raw breaks open across Cas’s face. His hand drifts across the space between them on the mattress, cupping delicately over Dean’s neck. “It was a successful gift, then,” Cas admits.

There’s a moment of just that -- just them, close together, eyes locked, smiling. Just that, before Dean can actually feel himself blushing, so he clears his throat and looks away. It’s mostly for show, especially since he moves his hand to rest over Cas’s, keeps it settled on his chest.

“Anyway. What I meant was you could do the same for Jack. Make him a mixtape.”

Cas’s fingers stroke gently over the material of Dean’s tshirt. “I like that idea,” he says. “Will you help me?”

“Of course.”

And then, Castiel leans over Dean, reaches for the lamp on the sidetable and turns it off. In the dark, Dean can feel the heat of Castiel’s body hovering over him. A moment later, the press of Castiel’s mouth against his own comes.

Cas gives Jack the mixtape in the minutes before he leaves. The trunk and backseat of the car he’s chosen from the bunker’s fleet is packed with supplies and they’ve spent the past week ensuring that Jack knows all that he might need to know -- how to hot-wire another car, how to read an atlas, how to change a flat tire, how to rent a room in a motel.

Jack stares at the little plastic box in his hands as Cas explains that it’s from all of them, all three of them, and it’s just songs that they liked, that they all picked, but that it’s something he can listen to and think about them, remember them, know that he’s thinking about them. And then Cas launches into an explanation of how to use the tape deck and that Sam made something called a Spotify playlist online in case the cassette breaks or wears out or anything like that.

He’s still mid-ramble when Jack launches himself at Castiel, pitching his face against his shoulder and clutching around his shoulders. Cas cuts off talking and instead wraps his arms around his son and holds him.

When Jack drives off, they can all hear the opening bars of Kansas playing, and they all pretend it’s the dust he kicks up that makes their eyes red.

[jack’s on the road playlist - by castiel, with help from dean and sam]

tags below, as always pls let me know if you wanna be removed or added!

@prayedtoyou • @folklorecastiel • @good-things-do-happen-dean • @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you • @kimikomyashiro • @bianca29753 • @spaceshipkat • @nickelkit • @dizzypinwheel • @epple-benene • @kayrosebee • @feraladoration • @queenvee08 • @destielangst • @destiel-is--real • @brazencas • @destielle • @flowersforcas • @50shadesofsubtext • @multifandomagic • @fluffiestlou • @gmotheemo • @geo-val • @menjiiii • @top13zepptraxx • @valleydean • @lanaserra • @eccentriccas • @trasherasswood • @angelresort • @starlightcastiel • @starclaire • @feeddoughnut • @jazzbabythatsme • @lyndalynn • @organicpurplepants • @cursed-or-not • @contemplativepancakes • @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner

#deancas #deancas fanfic #deancas fanfiction #destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #jack kline #castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #my stuff #soft summer series

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golbrocklovely · 4 years ago

Text

remember me // colby brock

A/N: this is not a request, but this is something i have been thinking about for a long time, probs since i started writing. i only finally wrote this out bc i’ve seen a lot of edit on insta that are like ‘what if your fave didn’t exist?’ and i figured this was sign for me to finally write it. if you guys want me to make a sequel to this, lmk. hope you enjoy.

prompt: everyone has forgotten colby, except her. but why?

trigger warning: angst, kinda sad, ppl forgetting colby

word count: 3567

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day started out like any other day for Colby. Nothing felt out of place as he woke up and laid in bed for a couple minutes. He knew today was going to be one of the less crazier days for him and Sam. No meetings of any kind, and no filming either. He had gotten everything done earlier this week and he was excited to have a bit of a day off. The only thing he had planned for today was to go workout with Sam early. He glanced at his phone. 9:34 A.M. Perfect time for him and Sam to go down to the apartment's gym and get some work done.

Colby stretched as he stood up, stumbling over to his closet and changing into what he usually worked out in, a muscle shirt and basketball shorts. He trudged into his bathroom and brushed his teeth quickly, opting to take a shower after he got home from the gym. He slipped his sneakers on as he walked into his kitchen and got a water bottle from his fridge. Taking a big gulp, he grabbed his keys and headed straight down the hallway to Sam's apartment.

He knocked three times, calling out to Sam as he waited for the blonde-haired boy to open the door. Finally, Sam did, rubbing his eyes and staring at Colby confused.

"Hey dude, did you oversleep?" Colby smirked, "That would be a first."

Sam narrowed his eyes at Colby, his voice still tired. "Um, I'm sorry?"

“Don't you remember? We planned to work out this morning. We talked about it last night.” Colby replied, twirling his keys in his fingers.

“What are you talking about?” Sam scrunched up his face.

“Last night after we filmed your video, we said we should go workout this morning…” Colby chuckled lightly, “Are you okay, brother?”

“I'm sorry, but... do you have the wrong apartment?” Sam asked nicely.

Colby exhaled. “What?”

“You must be looking for someone else, dude. I have no idea who you are.” Sam mumbled to himself, “Or how you know my name…”

“Okay, ha-ha. Very funny. Come on, Sam. Let's go.” Colby stated, taking a step back to leave.

Sam insisted, his voice getting louder. “No seriously, I have no idea who you are.”

“Babe, who is that?” A voice called from inside the apartment.

Colby looked over Sam, seeing Kat walk around the corner in her pjs. Colby glanced above Kat and noticed something off but ignored it.

“Hey Kat, did Sam hit his head last night?” Colby joked.

Sam turned to Kat. “Do you know him?”

Kat took a step back, glancing at Colby quickly. “No, I have no idea who he is. Do you?”

“No, I don't.” Sam shook his head.

“What are you guys on about? Of course, you know me.” Colby hissed.

“Seriously, I have no idea who you are or how you know me. But you gotta leave.” Sam ordered.

“What?” Colby raised an eyebrow, his voice softening, “Is this some type of prank?”

“Leave now, or I'm gonna call security on you.” Sam grunted.

Colby started. “Dude what are you talking-”

Sam slammed the door in Colby's face, locking it loudly. Colby scoffed, staring at the door for a second.

If this is a prank, I'm so gonna get him back for this.

Colby rolled his eyes and went down to the gym. He couldn't wrap his head around what just happened. Why was Sam pranking him if they already filmed last night? Was he trying to film for next week now too? Was this for someone else's video?

I mean, this has to be a prank... right?

Colby shook his head, ignoring the strange thought. Of course, this was a prank. It was probably for Jake's video. Maybe even Kat's. Or Kevin's. Someone was doing it to him. He couldn't remember the last time he had pranked somebody. But whoever he did, they were probably trying to get him back now for it. And they were doing a pretty good job.

Colby jumped onto the treadmill, keeping the pace slow at first as he searched through Spotify to find his playlist. Where was his playlist? As cheesy as it was to listen to the playlist he made for fans, it was filled with his favorite songs, so he would actually listen to it a lot. But now... he couldn't find it.

Where the fuck is it?

He searched, even going to his profile, but it wasn't there. Gone, like it never existed.

Maybe Spotify is acting up. Let me just go to Youtube.

Colby clicked on the app, searching up a song he wanted to hear. Then he paused for a moment, deleting the text he had written and typing in 'sam and colby'.

No results found.

“What?” Colby murmured, twisting up his face.

He then typed in 'colby brock'.

No results found.

Colby's heart sped up in his chest, his breathing quickening. Did his channel get deleted? Why were there no results for his channel, or 'Sam and Colby' for that matter? He finally typed in 'sam golbach', and Sam's channel appeared.

Colby clicked on it, glancing around at the different layout. This wasn't the layout Sam had had before. The only time they change it is when they are starting a new chapter, and they always do it together. Maybe he changed it last minute?

He clicked on Sam's videos. Scrolling through the list of them, he noticed something weird.

Sam always included Colby in the thumbnail. But now... he was nowhere. Now someone different was in the thumbnail, like Jake, Kevin, or even Corey. But... Colby was nowhere.

What the fuck was going on?

Colby clicked on a video he knew he was in, 'This Is How He LOST The Game’. He watched through the first ad, waiting impatiently. Finally, when the video loaded, his eyes widened at what he saw.

He wasn't in the video.

Sam had started the video off like normal, showing all the guys sitting on the couch as he explained the name of the game. But Colby, who knew for a fact he was in this video, was no longer there. His spot empty.

It was one thing to pretend not to know him, it was one thing to remove him from the thumbnails. But to remove him from videos all together...

“It's impossible.” He uttered under his breath.

Colby rushed off the treadmill, no longer in the mood to workout. He ran up to his apartment, feeling his heart bang against his ribcage.

Maybe this is all a weird ass dream? Or an extremely elaborate prank?

Colby went into his closet, deciding he wanted to change out of his clothes into something more comfortable. He gazed over at the corner of his closet, where he kept all of his merch, along with the XPLR ones too.

It was empty.

“What the fuck?” Colby grabbed at the empty hangers, spinning around his closet. He threw open drawers to try and find his merch, but he couldn't find it.

Colby swiped open his phone, sliding to his pictures. He knew him and Sam had a recent photoshoot in the new XPLR merch, so as long as those photos were there, he knew everything's okay.

As he opened his photo album, a certain dread trickled through his body.

Colby never deleted anything off his phone. He wanted to keep as many photos as possible. Plus it was always good to have extra photos in case he didn't have anything to post on his Instagram. But now, every photo he had was different than it once was. He had many photos of him and Sam from their years of friendship. But now every photo that had him and Sam in it... was gone. It was no longer Sam and Colby. It was just... Colby.

I'm not doing this right now. This can't be real.

Colby shook his head, his nerves getting the better of him as he laid back down on his bed. He took some deep breaths, trying to relax. This must just be the most realistic dream he's ever had, and he just needs to go back to sleep and wake up to everything normal again.

Normal... Sam's neon sign was gone.

Colby groaned to himself, closing his eyes and getting comfortable in bed. No, this is not the time to think. I just need to sleep.

As Colby felt himself relax into sleep, his dreams that followed were confusing and dark. Nothing made sense, but all he knew was that he was in a panic.

Colby jolted awake suddenly. He could tell by the way the sun was peeking through his windows that it was later. He opened his phone. 1:34 P.M.

He sighed deeply. Colby was used to waking up on his days off this late. Everything already felt better.

Did I dream all of that? Or was that prank real?

As he slid out of bed to the bathroom, he decided to check twitter. If that was all real, maybe Sam had mentioned the prank to the fans.

Colby opened twitter and nothing seemed out of the usual. He looked at Sam's account, and noticed it was not following him anymore.

He's being extremely thorough, isn't he?

As he went to switch over to the Sam and Colby account, he noticed the icon wasn't there. His fingers twitched as he typed 'sam and colby' into the search bar. Everything but that account showed up. 'Sam and Colby' twitter didn't exist.

A nauseous feeling rolled through Colby's body. Colby went to his profile, looking through the people he followed, not even noticing the significant lack of followers he had. He knew he followed a couple fans, maybe they knew what was up. As he scrolled through, he noticed the usernames were different.

He knew a bunch of fans off-hand. A lot of fan accounts always stuck out to him; and it was easy to remember the username, especially if it was named after him.

But nobody's username was.

He saw a lot of 'Golbach', but no 'Brock' or even 'Golbrock', which he always thought was cute. Not a single username was related to him anymore.

Alright, that's enough.

He angrily clicked on his contacts, needing to call Sam and tell him to call off this prank. It was no longer funny and honestly, he didn't even want to be a part of it anymore. Most pranks he was fine with, but this one was going too far for him.

Colby gasped as he stared at his contacts, dropping his phone like it electrocuted him.

All his friends were missing from his contacts. The only people in his phone were his family, and that was it.

Colby began to hyperventilate, unable to stop the panic that surged through his body. He bore at himself in the mirror, staring at his stress-ridden face. He gripped the counter of his sink, trying to calm himself down.

If he couldn't turn to Sam, who could he turn to?

He picked his phone back up, leaning against his counter as he called his mom. He just needed to know that someone remembered him.

“Hello?” His mother’s voice sang through the phone.

Colby breathed, slightly relaxing against the counter. “Hey Mom, how are you?”

“Hi Cole-baby. I'm doing okay. How are you?” She asked sweetly.

Colby pouted. “Um, I'm feeling a bit... off, to say the least.”

“Oh no, what's wrong?” She responded.

“I know this is gonna sound like a weird question, but do you remember my friend Sam?” Colby questioned, tapping his hand against the counter.

She hummed, guessing. “Sam? Sam... Johnson?”

“What? No. I never knew a Sam Johnson.” Colby rolled his eyes, frustrated, “I mean Sam Golbach. Sam Golbach. Do you remember him?”

“No... should I?” She admitted.

His heart dropped at her words. “Yeah, you should. He's my best friend. We were friends all through high school. We started a literal career together, he's basically your third son at this point.”

“Woah, honey. What are you talking about?” She puzzled.

“You don't remember Sam? He's the whole reason I moved out here, Mom.” He urged, needing his mother to remember.

She paused, then spoke. “Colby, you moved out to LA alone. Last month.”

“What?” He choked.

“You worked all through high school and college and saved up money and just recently moved out there.” She informed.

His eyes widened. “Mom, I've lived in LA for almost five years now.”

Also... college?

“Maybe it feels like five years, but honey, you only moved out a month ago at max.” His mom’s voice softened, lowering slightly. “Are you okay?”

“No momma, apparently not.” He sighed, “Who was I friends with in high school if I wasn’t friends with Sam?”

“Honey, you didn’t have any… or none that you ever brought home.” She mentioned.

Colby queried. “And college?”

“You didn’t really talk about anyone. You were very focused on your schoolwork.” She explained.

That literally doesn’t sound like me at all. I couldn’t even pass math without Sam.

Colby glanced down at his tattoos for a second, pursing his lips. “Another quick question, I was allowed to live in our house with dyed hair, tattoos, and pierced ears?”

She gasped. “Wait what? You got a tattoo?!”

“Mom, I have like five.” Colby deadpanned.

“When did you find the time to get them?!” She hushed, “Cole, you know how I feel about tattoos.”

Colby grew tired. “So, you've never heard of a Sam Golbach before?”

“No, absolutely not. But don't try to change the subject on me, Cole Robert.” She scolded.

He huffed. “I'll talk to you later, momma.”

She sputtered. “What? Don't you-”

Colby clicked ‘End Call’, lowering his head to the counter, taking in a deep breath and holding it.

“What the fuck is happening right now?” He demanded out loud.

Colby jumped up, going to his closet and slipping on some clothes quickly. The only thing he knew for certain is that something wasn't right, and he needed to get out of his apartment and go somewhere else. Anywhere else.

He grabbed his keys and rushed down to the parking lot, getting into his car quickly and driving off.

He drove for a while, finally pulling into another parking lot and turning off his car. He needed to get something to eat, and then maybe he could figure things out. He glanced around and noticed the parking lot he was in was for a diner named Meyer's. He locked his car as he left, swinging the diner's door open hastily. The diner wasn't packed, but it wasn't empty either. A nice lull of conversations droned on as he sat down at the furthest booth, cracking his knuckles nervously.

He picked up the menu that was already at the table, staring at the front of it. He didn't even realize a waitress had walked up next to him.

"...Are you okay?" The soft voice said, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Colby stared up at the waitress, noticing her eyes first. They were captivating and beautiful, much like herself. Her hair shined brightly in the sun that basked through the window. Her smile was wonderful to see after a day of unpleasant looks.

He stuttered. “What? Uh-I. Yeah, no, I'm fine.”

She giggled. “Okay. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Um, a water. No, a soda. Please.” Colby muttered.

“Alright. Coming right up.” She nodded.

Colby stared at the menu again, gazing over the pictures of sandwiches and wraps. He wasn't really hungry, but he felt like he should just eat something, even if it was just to pass the time.

The waitress came back over with his soda, placing it lightly down in front of him. “Are you ready to order?”

“No, not yet.” Colby answered, not looking up from the menu.

“Okay, I'll be right back.” She started to walk away, then stopped and turned back. “Are you okay? I know I already asked you that but... you look really upset.”

Colby’s shoulders slumped as he gazed up at her. “I-I... don't even know how to explain it.”

“Why? Is it complicated?” She guessed.

“You could say that,” Colby glared down at the menu. “It just doesn't make any sense. It sounds fake, to be honest.”

“Well, you can tell me. I won't judge.” She smiled.

I might as well tell somebody...

“Everyone's... forgotten about me?” Even Colby was confused at his words.

“What do you mean? Like they're ignoring you?” She questioned, her hand resting on her hip.

“No. Like they literally forgot I exist. Or, I somehow don't exist in their lives anymore, when yesterday I did.” He confessed.

She shrugged. “Well, maybe they're trying to ignore you instead of talking things out.”

“No, I don't think you understand. I don't exist to them. They don't know me. Like, at all,” Colby corrected. “My best friend, my brother, the fucking dude I got arrested with, doesn't know who I am.”

“Wait, you've been arrested?” She raised an eyebrow.

“It was just breaking and entering. And having fake IDs,” He commented. “But that's not the point, the point is no one remembers me, but I remember them.”

The waitress stood there silently, awkwardly.

“I don't know what to say.” She whispered.

He gulped. “I don't know either. But if you have a solution, I'd gladly hear it.”

“Maybe it's a prank?” She speculated.

“I thought about that too. But if it is, this is extremely elaborate. And borderline impossible.” Colby disclosed.

She argued nonchalantly. “People do crazy things for social media.”

“Yeah, but even my friends wouldn't take it this far for just a dumb video.” He complained.

“Are your friends famous?” She inquired.

“I wouldn't say that. My best friend is Sam Golbach.” Colby revealed.

“Sam Golbach? Why have I heard that name before?” She asked quietly.

“He's got a lot of followers. He’s a Youtuber.” He pointed out.

“Wait, you're Sam's best friend?” Her eyes widened.

“Yeah?” He cocked his head to the side.

She gasped. “Oh! You're Colby Brock!”

“I'm what?” He stammered.

“You're Colby, right?” She doubted for a second, “Or did I get that wrong?”

Colby jumped up out of his seat. “Oh my God, you know who I am! Wait, how do you know?”

“My one friend is a huge fan of you and Sam. She showed me you guys like a month ago.” She paused for a second, smirking. “She's actually really into you... Maybe I should call her.”

“Please do. I need to know if she knows who I am.” Colby pleaded, sitting back down.

The waitress followed him, sitting across from Colby. “Of course she does, she literally has you set as her wallpaper.”

She pulled out her phone, glancing around to make sure no one was watching her. She clicked on a contact, putting the phone on the table and clicking ‘Speaker’.

“Hello?” A voice broke in through the phone.

She grinned, staring up at Colby. “Hey Sara, you need to come down to the diner real quick.”

“What why?” Sara questioned.

“Colby Brock is here.” She announced.

Sara remarked. “...Who?”

“Colby Brock, the guy you're in love with.” She repeated.

“I have no idea who you're talking about. I've never heard that name before.” Sara denied.

“He's Sam Golbach's friend.” The waitress described.

Sara exclaimed. “Oh my God, is Sam there?! Because I’ll-”

She interjected. “No, he’s not.”

“Oh... then I don't want to come.” Sara recalled, “I've never heard Sam talk about a guy named Colby before.”

Colby swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes falling off of the waitress’.

She fretted. “Okay then. I'll talk to you later.”

“Alright, bye.” Sara ended, hanging up the phone.

After a moment of silence, the waitress stated, “I'm sorry about that.”

“What's there to be sorry about?” Colby quavered.

The waitress scoffed suddenly. “Is this some kinda joke?”

“What?” He queried.

“Are you pulling a prank on me? Was Sara in on it? Because I’ll kill her if she met you and didn’t tell me.” She jeered jokingly.

Colby shook his head, deadpanning. “I haven’t met Sara, and I’m not pranking you.”

“How can I know if you’re lying or not?” She questioned, squinting her eyes.

“Google my name. Search me on any social media,” Colby suggested. “I don’t exist.”

“Okay…” She agreed.

The waitress quickly typed in his name into Google, coming up with no images that looked like him. None of his social media links came up either.

She gazed up at him slowly. “This is really weird.”

“You’re telling me.” Colby uttered, “No one remembers me.”

She blurted. “But I do.”

“Yeah… why is that?” He inquired.

“I-I don’t know.” She sputtered, confused. Then she jolted up from her seat instantly. “I-um, gotta go help out my other tables. Do you need me to give you some time to look over the menu?”

“Yes…” He continued, “But one other thing.”

“Sure.” She leaned in, her hands resting on the tabletop.

“Can you help me? Please?” Colby begged, lightly grabbing her hand.

She silently gasped, whispering, “How?”

“I don’t know. But I think you’re the only one that can.” Colby divulged.

The waitress stuttered, but no words fell from her lips.

He exhaled, staring into her eyes. “So, will you?”

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#colby brock #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock fic #colby brock fanfic #colby brock angst #colby brock x reader #colby brock x oc #colby brock oneshot #colby brock one shot

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notveryglittery · 5 years ago

Text

mice on venus (1.1)

summary: gee, those forest ravines really pop out at you, huh? wc: 2k / ships: romantic royality, qpr prinxiety, romantic analogical. warnings: falling off a cliff, injuries, janus is a lil rough around the edges but sometimes u gotta be when living in a dangerous blocky world... author’s note: i couldn’t sleep last night... bc brain was making this... and also @thoriffix makes nice minecraft art... so yeah, minecraft sanders sides au? i have no clue what i’m doing besides having fun :) not too much knowledge of the game is needed; you can look at it as a basic adventure au. enjoy!

mice on venus (1.1) (you are here) | far (1.2) title inspo: (spotify link) (youtube link) idk if this will go on ao3 but here’s a spot for editing

— — —

Patton’s voice tears from his throat in a raw and terrified shout. "Roman!" He screams, hands outstretched uselessly, as Roman tips backwards over the edge of a ravine, and disappears.

Logan is there, barely a second later. He rifles through his bag, finds what he needs, and throws it with all the force he can muster. Gravity won't let it hit the ground before Roman does, but it will help when it arrives nonetheless. He hurries to stand, turn, and face —

"What happened?!" Virgil asks breathlessly, daggers drawn and at the ready.

"Roman fell into a ravine," Logan answers with so little tact that Patton would scold him for it if he were paying enough attention to overhear. The color in Virgil's face drains. "I threw a Splash Potion of Healing after him," Logan reassures without pausing, "but we need to get down there."

"I knew I should've stayed home," drawls their final party member, sounding awfully bored despite the situation.

Patron does hear this and he rounds on Janus with fire in his eyes. "How could you be so cruel?! Roman might be dead!"

Janus raises an eyebrow. "Were you not listening just now? Our local brewer lobbed a potion. Roman's seen worse. He'll be fine."

Patton's lower lip trembles but it's hard to tell whether he wants to cry or to berate. Maybe both. He looks for Virgil, only to find him at the ravine's edge with a bucket. Water is flowing from where it's been poured, creating a safe passage for them to traverse down in once safe.

Roman, meanwhile, is falling.

His only warning had been the horror dawning on Patton's face and even then, it came after his foot met air instead of solid ground like he expected. For some inane reason, his first thought as he went plummeting was "who put this ravine in the middle of a forest?" Next, it was panic and "AHHHHHHHHHHHHH—"

With the wind stinging his face and his blood roaring in his ears, Roman knows he has mere seconds to figure out how to make this suck less. He struggles to right himself until he's facing the ground that is rushing up to meet him. He pulls his shield from where it is strapped to his back and thanks Jeb that he'd had the foresight, as their fighter, to give himself something sturdier. The rickety thing the others use wouldn't have done much for him here but the curved, solid iron plate he tucks himself into should absorb most of the impact.

That doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt like hell. He can barely cry out with how his breath is knocked out of him. Pain shoots up his ankles and legs, lighting every nerve along the way. He tilts over, gritting his teeth and trying to see beyond the stars that swim through his vision. He isn't safe… There could… Mobs…

Glass shatters next to him and he flinches from it. Please not a witch, please not a witch, please not a witch —

As opposed to the nauseous kick of poison or the heavy weight of slowness, however, warmth of healing washes over him. In his shock, he'd forgotten anyone had been with him but of course, Logan would have been right behind Patton, with his emergency potions. Relief floods over everything else. He isn't alone. He has help.

"— an idiot!" is the first thing Roman hears when he comes to. He opens his eyes to see Virgil pacing beside him, flailing his arms, and apparently mid-rant. It's probably Logan at his feet, wrapping his ankle in a splint. Ah… the pain from it being jostled must've woken him… He's glad he doesn't remember it.

"Honey," Patton's voice whimpers, close to him, choked and scared and none of that will do —

"C'mere," Roman croaks, reaching for his beloved. Patton catches Roman's hand and holds it almost too tightly. Roman isn't sure which one of them is shaking. He brings Patton's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. "I'm okay, sweetness. Don't cry. Please. You know a smile will help me recover better than anything."

"That's not true," Logan pipes up, deadpan.

Patton gives him a tremulous smile anyway.

"Learn to watch—" Virgil stops. Freezes. Looks up. "Oh. Great." He's rifling through his supplies before the others even have time to ask him what's wrong.

The sudden realization of dimming light answers them well enough, though. Janus wastes no time in beginning to help Virgil, moving with him to the ravine's wall to back their makeshift base against. Sunset brings with it monsters and they certainly aren’t in the best place to handle that.

"You need to sleep before you get back on your feet," Logan tells Roman as he packs away his med kit. "No adventures for at least three days."

Roman gasps, as if Logan has just told him his birthday is canceled.

"Logan's right, dear," Patton intervenes, pulling one of Roman's arms over and around his shoulder. He helps him stand slowly, making sure Roman favors weight on his less injured ankle. "It's okay, I'm gonna stay with you! It'll go by so quick, you won't even know it happened."

Roman wants to complain further but he’s lightheaded from his now-vertical position. With practiced ease, Virgil and Janus have a lean-to set up to keep them safe from the nights terrors. Unfortunately, there’s only enough materials for two beds. Fortunately, they sleep in shifts anyway. It takes some coaxing to convince Roman that he doesn’t need to stay awake for one but once his head is on the pillow and Patton is combing a hand through his hair, he’s out.

Logan sits up for the first two hours. Forty minutes in, Janus leaves to explore the ravine. The others know better than to even try stopping him. He returns, laden with coal and iron ore.

“Roman’s shield is gonna need repairing,” Janus says matter-of-factly as he takes over for the next watch.

Logan groans. “I suppose, at least, the painting will keep him busy while he’s grounded.”

“He’ll last…” Janus pauses, considering. “I give him no more than a day and a half.”

“If he wants to sustain his injuries, sure.”

“Bet you he’ll try stealing an Instant Health potion.”

“Not if he knows what’s best for him,” Logan snaps.

Janus smiles with too many teeth which isn’t to say he has too many teeth, just that normally his smiles are close-lipped. Logan scowls before ducking into their small shelter to try and get some rest.

The next two hours pass without trouble. Virgil takes his turn. The howling screech of an enderman startles Logan awake but just as quick, Virgil is peeking in on the party and waving the concern away with an ender pearl clutched in his fist.

“Didn’t wanna pass up the opportunity,” he whispers, before returning to his post.

Patton sets up for the last watch. Virgil makes Logan take the free bed, which doesn’t take much convincing seeing as he’s half-asleep already. Roman begins to toss and turn so Virgil sits on the ground beside him, reaches up, and holds his hand.

“Sap,” Janus says from the corner where he’s been making torches.

“Have you slept at all?” Virgil asks instead of taking the bait.

When Janus doesn’t answer, Virgil frowns. “How long has it been?”

Another round of silence.

“J, what the fuck? We don’t need phantoms on top of everything else!” Virgil raises his voice without meaning to. Logan stirs at the sound of it; he’s always been a light sleeper.

“Hush,” Janus hisses. They wait a few moments more until Logan has settled. “I will when we get back home. I’ve got at least one more safe night.”

Virgil’s glare sharpens but he doesn’t push any further. Janus goes back to his crafting but Virgil notices now how slowly he works. Instead of staring and letting his concern build, Virgil leans back and shuts his eyes, focusing on Roman’s warm hand in his.

Sunrise means a quick breakfast of bread and crisp apples. They share amongst themselves before Logan and Patton take down the lean-to. Janus returns to the top of the ravine, making sure to dispatch any mobs lurking in the shade of the trees. Virgil remembers the leads Patton had brought with him, for if they had come across any horses, and suggests tying Roman to one of them, just in case things go wrong on the swim up the waterfall.

Roman, ever full of bravado, insists he would be just fine on his own. Looks of concern and frustration come from his boyfriend and queerplatonic partner, respectively, and he quickly gives in without much fuss. Janus joins them again and offers to build a ladder back up, especially since there’s no short supply of wood; Logan disagrees, worried that it would take too long and they’d be caught out once more at nighttime.

Eventually, they do all get up and out of the ravine. Roman’s splint needs redoing now that it’s wet and heavy but afterwards, they are on their way home. He relies heavily on Patton and Virgil to help him, careful to not put too much weight on his injured foot; he hates needing so much help, but he supposes it’s mostly alright, what with Patton keeping him entertained with stories and Virgil teasing him about dumb little mistakes made in the past.

Slow going as as they are, they make it just as the sun is beginning to set. The lanterns are lit at the village they had set up nearby roughly a year ago and their neighbors are gathered at the bell for gossip and trade. Patton wants to swing by to say hello and offer some cake but Roman is really struggling beside him now.

“Oh, sweetpea, you must be so tired,” Patton murmurs, shifting so that he can take more pressure off of Roman. “I’m gonna get you the best dinner… And hot cocoa, too, how’s that sound?”

“We haven’t got a steady supply of cocoa beans yet,” Roman says without much conviction.

“I’ll cocoa bean anyone that tries to stop me,” Patton insists.

Virgil stifles a laugh behind his hand and pretends he didn’t hear the thinly veiled threat disguised as a pun. He makes a note to kick their search for a jungle into first gear and wonders if Janus would be up for a trip to the west. It is the least explored direction and their terribly empty maps remind them every day. In the meantime, he’ll help Patton to get Roman comfortable and settled. He makes sure Janus goes to bed that night, keeping him company until he’s well and truly deep in sleep.

After one last sweep of the perimeter, Virgil retires to his and Logan’s room. Logan is waiting up for him, reading by candlelight. Virgil changes into his night clothes and slides in under the covers. Logan is warm and, with a fond eye roll, compliant as Virgil tugs at his sleeve until he eventually puts his book away. Logan lays on his back with Virgil splayed half-across his chest; the sensation has always put Logan at ease, having his partner’s presence so physical and grounding and there.

“Will Roman be okay?” Virgil asks in a voice so small that Logan almost doesn’t hear him.

“Like Janus said, Roman has been through worse.” Logan hesitates but not long enough for either of them to actually start thinking about it. “As long as he is careful, which I’m sure Patton will help him be, he’ll recover in no time.”

The tension flows out of Virgil in one slow exhale. “Thanks, L.” He shuffles deeper into the blankets and Logan’s embrace. “Love you.”

“And I you,” Logan responds with a hum, pressing a kiss to the top of Virgil’s head.

#sanders sides fan fiction #royality #prinxiety #analogical #ts deceit #dani writes #minecraft au #sanders sides #romantic royality #qpr prinxiety #romantic analogical

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lavenderlattaes · 4 years ago

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the night we met. | jeon jeongguk

⇒ summary: and on a cold winter’s night just before the start of a brand new year, you meet a boy who changes your entire new year for the better.

⇒ [ ghost! au ]

⇒ pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader

⇒ word count: 4.7k words

⇒ genre: light fluff, angst

⇒ warnings: mentions of cheating, breakup, and death

⇒ note: hello! it’s been so long since i wrote a long bts fic, huh? but i’m back again with a new one and this is one of my entries to @btsghostiewritersnet ‘s Bingo Bash! It falls under my ghost! au tile and i hope you guys like this! please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think. enjoy! (also this is the third time im reposting bc the tags haven’t been working for me hhh) ＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／

The cold night air nips at your frozen, flushed cheeks as you hold back tears. Of all the days of the year, why did you have to end up alone and heartbroken on New Year’s Eve? Your tired, Timberland boots clad feet lead you to the park you frequented with your boyfriend before he decided to lock lips with someone else that wasn’t you. You walk past the benches and the playground and find yourself by the crystal lake that was still frozen over by the cold winter. You crouch down on your feet, your fingers reaching out to glide across the icy surface.

You sniffle softly, your mind going back to the events a few hours prior as your heart breaks. You shut your eyes tightly and let the tears fall freely, the hot tears warming up your frozen cheeks. Loud, heartbreaking sobs wrack your entire body until you can hardly breathe anymore.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

How could he do that to you? How could he break your heart in the most cliché way possible? How could he break his promise of a forever with you? You were stupid to think he’d actually love you for as long as you breathed the same air, for as long as you lived.

“You’re going to get sick if you keep crying out here in this cold weather.” A shy, timid voice rings out from behind you, and your sobs quiet down slowly. You immediately wipe your tears away, and sniffle again before turning around.

Your eyes lock with a pair of soft, gentle, brown, doe-like eyes the moment you turn around. A handsome boy around your age stares at you, his hands buried deep in his pockets. You break away from his glance momentarily to wipe the few tears that still manage to escape. You let out another gentle sniffle before standing up. You brush your hands against your jeans, the snow falling down your fingers and down onto the ground.

Your eyes, nose, and cheeks are all red now, and the boy purses his lips before pulling out a small handkerchief. His right hand extends out to you, offering the small piece of cloth. You look at it and back up at his face. He stares at you and you timidly reach forward, taking it. You give him a small nod and he just nods back, as you turn to the side slightly, blowing your nose into it. He lets out a chuckle at that, and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“Thanks,” you whisper once you’re done, and you stuff the handkerchief into your pocket as you turn back to face him.

“Why were you crying?” The boy asks and you sigh, plopping back down onto the ground. He approaches you gently, before going down on his knees to sit beside you. You glance at him to find his gaze trained on the empty, frozen lake in front of you both.

“My boyfriend cheated and broke up with me,” you answer, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“On New Year’s Eve?” The boy asks again and you nod, as he chuckles. You turn to look at him with a light frown.

“What’s so funny?”

“My girlfriend broke up with me too on New Year’s Eve,” the boy tells you, and he turns to meet your gaze.

“Maybe you weren’t supposed to spend the next year together. Maybe this happened to you because you’re supposed to be with someone better than him.” He says softly, as the wind blows around you both, making you shiver lightly. The boy notices you shivering and shrugs his thick coat off, throwing it around your shoulders.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” you try to decline but he shakes his head. “You’ve been crying, you know. You need to warm up if you don’t want to get sick.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, pulling the coat tighter around you.

“I’m Jeongguk.” The boy finally introduces himself and you manage to crack a small smile.

“I’m Y/N.”

ii.

An incessant tapping sound rings in your bedroom in the middle of the night, waking you up in the process. You groan from the annoying noise, rolling over in your sheets as you try to get yourself to get out of bed.

Tap, tap, tap.

“Y/N, open up!” you hear a familiar voice call your name, making your eyes snap open, fully awake now.

You get up and rush over to the window, your eyes meeting those same, doe-like, eyes you first met one year ago. He grins at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling up in amusement as you squint at him, your fingers reaching over to unlock the window. The cold air brushes inside the room as you let the boy in.

Jeongguk lands on his feet gracefully, barely making a sound against the hardwood floor. He glances at you with a grin as you roll your eyes at him.

“What are you doing here? It’s late,” you ask him, walking back to your bed. He climbs in with you, crossing his legs as he leans on his arms for support, facing you.

“It’s been exactly one year since we met, don’t you remember?” your best friend grins at you as your mind finally registers the date. Your eyes glance at the digital clock perched on your bedside, and the red numbers glare in the dark room.

12:03 am, 2021-12-31.

“Happy one year of friendship…?” You suggest sheepishly, turning back to face the boy. He grins and lunges forward at you, trapping you in a bone-crushing hug. Your body falls back on the bed as Jeongguk moves his full weight on top of you, making you whine.

“You’re heavy!” You choke out from underneath him, but he only lets out his melodious laughter ring out in the quiet room.

“Oh, come on, you love me!” He giggles and you’re furiously slapping his back, trying to get him off of you.

“If I say that, will you get off of me?” you breathe out and he immediately rolls off to the side, making you gasp for air dramatically. He rolls his eyes before perching his head up on his arm. He turns to your side, grinning at you as you glare at him playfully.

“For real though,” you begin once you’ve caught your breath, “I really do love you.” You admit, the sincerity in your voice and the gentleness of your tone making the atmosphere suddenly shift. It’s silent now, and Jeongguk just stares at you, his mouth partly open.

“You made me happier. I thought I didn’t want to keep smiling after what my boyfriend did. I know he doesn’t deserve me pining over him so hopelessly but I still continued believing he would somehow tell me it was all in my head. I hoped he would chase after me that night, but he never did.” You say quietly, your eyes trained on the ceiling. It was covered in stars, not the plastic, glow-in-the-dark kind, but hand-painted stars that Jeongguk and you both painted a few months ago. Well, he did most of it while you just cheered him on, dancing around in your room to whatever was playing on his Spotify radio back then.

Jeongguk’s free hand comes up to cup your face, turning your cheek to face him. “I just wanted to see you smile. That’s all that I ever really wanted. You looked so sad when we first met. I’ve never seen anyone so sorrowful that I even felt my own heart breaking.”

Maybe it was the way he looked at you — like you were his entire world, or the way he cupped your face in his hand — like you were some delicate china doll he couldn’t bear to break, or the way he always hugged you — like he never wanted to let go, that made you realize maybe you’ve already fallen for your best friend.

Maybe you really were supposed to break up with your boyfriend before you welcomed the new year because you were supposed to spend that new year with Jeon Jeongguk instead.

“I love you.”

The words fall past your lips and out into the silent night. It doesn’t register in your mind until Jeongguk smiles softly at you, leaning in close to kiss your forehead.

“I love you too.”

You smile up at him and he just scoots closer to you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you tightly. That night, you fall asleep in Jeongguk’s warm embrace, your breaths mingling, your hearts beating at the same slow, steady, and calm pace.

When you wake up the next day, he’s gone. It doesn’t faze you though, because he’s always snuck inside your room late at night and left before you woke up. But a small part of you hoped that he would be there when he woke up, especially since things have somehow changed between you now.

His scent still lingers in the air, and the side of your bed where he lay was still warm, the sheets slightly crinkled. A small note peaked out from underneath your phone, and you know it’s from him. The handwriting says it all.

Meet me at the lake later tonight. i love you <3

A smile makes its way onto your face, instantly boosting your mood for the rest of the day.

And just like one year ago, the cold night air nips at your frozen, flushed cheeks as this time, you try to hold back an excited smile. You take excited skips toward the park, your fingers brushing along the benches and the trees. You reach the frozen lake, your smile blooming once you recall the events from last year. You crouch down onto your knees again, your fingers drawing on the icy surface as you wait for him.

“I hope you’re not crying like last year,” Jeongguk’s playful voice rings out from behind you and you immediately turn around to face him.

“Why would I -” your smile drops from your face when you see Jeongguk’s red eyes and nose. Tears are falling down his face as the wind blows softly, making you shiver.

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask softly, walking over to him. He purses his lips, his dimples popping out as he tries to stop the tears from falling.

“I’m sorry.” The cursed words you’ve despised the most leave his lips.

“Why? Why are you sorry?” you plead, reaching forward to grasp his hands in yours.

“I can’t be with you.” Jeongguk whispers, his breath shaky as he grips onto your hands tighter.

“Why not? Why are you doing this to me now? After telling me you love me?” You’re crying now, and Jeongguk’s sobs get quieter as he slowly calms himself.

“You’re going to have to be happy without me now, okay? I’ve spent an entire year with you now, I need to go.” He explains, letting go of your hands to cup your face.

You shake your head furiously, your hands coming up to hold his wrists. The wind was blowing harshly around you, making you both shiver but it can’t possibly be colder than the ice crawling into your heart right now.

“Don’t leave me.” You cry out, making both of your hearts break.

Jeongguk’s thumbs wipe your tears away, before he leans in to kiss your forehead again. “I can’t stay here with you, Y/N. It would be selfish of me to stay.”

“Why? Where are you going?” You ask desperately, your eyes searching for some sort of sign that he’s just lying. But over the past year that you’ve come to know him, you’ve learned how to read him better than anyone else. You know him like the back of your hand. He never hides his emotions when he’s with you. And he’s never lied to you, not even once.

“Somewhere far away and I’m not coming back,” he answers truthfully and you know it in the way he doesn’t stutter and in the way he holds your face gently. You close your eyes, letting more tears fall down your flushed cheeks as you feel the same biting cold from just over a year ago. Only this time, it hurts more in your heart than it does on your cheeks.

“Even when I’m gone, I’ll always be here,” he whispers, placing your hand above your heart as you feel your steady heartbeat. “I’m never going to truly leave you behind, Y/N. But I need you to be happy even without me. Can you promise me that?” he crouches down to your height, tucking a finger under your chin, prompting you to look at him.

“It’s going to be hard, but can you do it? For me?” He adds, caressing your hair gently as you give him a slow, hesitant nod that still manages to shatter your heart into a million pieces.

“That’s my angel.” He coos with a soft smile, pulling you in for a tight hug. You cry into his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist as he kisses the crown of your head repeatedly.

“Will I see you again?” you ask, pulling away as you stare up at his doe-like eyes that made you fall for him in the first place. He smiles, and leans forward to kiss you on the lips for the very first time, and the last. You kiss him back, pouring all of your love into the only kiss you ever get to share with Jeon Jeongguk.

“One day, angel. When it’s time for you to see me again.” He pulls you into a hug again, wrapping you tight in his warm embrace. For the first time that night, you don’t feel the cold. All you can feel is Jeongguk’s warmth spreading all throughout your entire body. You close your eyes, relishing in the feeling of being wrapped in his arms.

“I love you, always remember that.” Jeongguk whispers.

And when you open your eyes, he’s gone.

You take ragged breaths, wiping away the tears hastily as the coldness starts creeping into your heart again. You turn around, hoping to find a glimpse of his retreating form or even just his shadow but you find nothing. Not even a trace of his footsteps on the snow, or his scent lingering in the air.

It was as if Jeon Jeongguk was merely a figment of your imagination.

And you cry. You cry, and you cry your eyes out until you can’t breathe, until your throat hurts from screaming, until your mouth feels dry. You drop onto your knees, the snow seeping into your jeans, soaking your skin with the icy coldness. But it still can’t compare to the ice that has now fully coated your breaking heart.

iii.

“Y/N? Y/N, can you hear me?” A masculine voice calls out in the darkness, and you squint your eyes, opening them slowly. A bright, white light greets you, and when your eyes finally adjust to the brightness, you’re staring into the eyes of a doctor.

“Hello, Y/N. I’m Doctor Kim. How are you feeling?” He asks gently, giving you a gentle reassuring smile. Doctor Kim is young, seemingly only a few years older than you, with black hair pushed back against his forehead, and full, pink lips. He seems more like an older brother than a doctor with his warm smile.

“I’m okay, I guess…” you trail off, your hands flat against the bed as you try to push yourself up to a sitting position. Doctor Kim immediately goes over to your side, helping you sit up. “What happened?” you ask, as Doctor Kim sits down beside you.

“You got into a car accident, Y/N. You were in a coma for a year.” He tells you, as your brain tries to process everything in. “You remember your name, so you most likely didn’t lose your memory. Or is there anything you don’t remember?”

You try to think. You know your full name, and your birthday. You know your parents’ names. You know where you study, what you’re taking up, and even some of the professors you hate the most. You know your friends, and the name of your pet.

You shake your head, and Doctor Kim smiles at you. “Great. Seeing as there’s nothing wrong with you, you’re free to go. Your parents are already filling out the forms so you’ll be out by tomorrow. If ever you suddenly realize that you’re missing a piece of your memory, don’t hesitate to contact us right away. Aside from that, you’ll also have weekly check-ups with me until I’m fully assured that you’re okay.”

You give him a nod and a small smile. “I understand. Thank you, Doctor.” He gives you a curt nod before slipping out of the room quietly. You let out a long tired sigh, despite just having woken up from a coma. You lean back on the bed, your mind racing with a million thoughts.

You didn’t tell him, but you were sure you were missing something. You didn’t know what, exactly, so you decided against telling him. What would you even tell him anyway? Your gut tells you something’s missing but you don’t know what it is? That wouldn’t make sense anyway.

“Y/N! You’re awake now!” A bright, cheery voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and your eyes land on a smiling, blonde haired boy.

“Chan,” the name falls off your lips with ease, your heart warming up at the sight of your best friend. He rushes over to your side, grabbing your hand to grasp it in his. The gentleness of his hand holding yours feels familiar and you feel yourself smiling.

“I was so scared you lost your memory and forgot about me,” Chan sighs, his eyes looking downcast. You squeeze his hand gently.

“How could I forget the only person who always drags me to work out at the gym with him against my own will?” you tease and he lets out a loud laugh.

“I won’t drag you along with me now. At least, not until you’ve fully recovered,” he winks and you give him a playful roll of your eyes as he smiles wistfully at you.

“What is it?” you ask, tilting your head as you study his expression.

He shakes his head, pursing his lips. “Nothing. I’m just glad you remember everything.”

Chan spends a few more hours with you before he has to leave, saying he still needs to work on a few more of his songs. He gives you one last hug before leaving you alone to your thoughts once more.

Everything feels weird. Everything about Chan still feels the same. He’s still your best friend, and there’s still that familiar warmth of his hand holding yours. His laugh still sounds the same. Nothing’s different, nothing feels unfamiliar.

But why does it feel like you can feel a warm hand holding yours long after Chan’s hand lets go of it? Why does it feel like you can hear someone else’s laughter ringing in the silence long after Chan’s laughter has died down?

The next day you find yourself back at home, missing the familiar, homey scent of your surroundings. This was definitely better than the bleach and betadine trademark scent of the hospital. Your parents leave you to collect your thoughts, giving you some time and space to yourself first.

You climb up the stairs to your room, feeling drained from the car ride back home. You had a long day, and it was past five in the afternoon. The sky was dark already, since you were still early into January and still a few months away from blooming flowers and cherry blossoms falling. You climb under your covers, smiling at how familiar it all feels.

Still, something’s crawling at the back of your mind when you turn on your side. Your hand reaches out, feeling the sheets, hoping to find some sort of answer to the nagging question you’ve had since yesterday.

What were you missing?

Sleep eventually consumes you and your eyes shut close, momentarily putting a halt on the nonstop thinking.

You missed dinner and it’s already 12:15 am when a strong breeze blows in through your room, pushing your windows open. The strong gust of wind hits your bare skin, and the coolness wakes you up with a shiver. Your eyes glance at the clock on your bedside and as the red numbers glare at you, your eyes widen.

You remember his doe-like eyes and his giggles full of mirth. You remember the little scar on his left cheek and his plush lips. You remember his soulful voice when he sang for you and how he holds you in his arms when you dance around in your room into the late night. You remember him taking his coat off to wrap you in it the first time you met. You remember him telling you you’ll get sick if you continued crying. You remember feeling his warmth surround you during your first meeting. You remember how he holds your hands in his, how he hugs you with so much care. You remember how he picked up the broken pieces of your shattered heart that night, putting it back together little by little, piece by piece over the days, weeks, and months that you got to know him.

You remember how he snuck into your room that night, reminding you that it’s been one year since you met at that frozen lake that holds so much sentimental value for you. You remember telling him you love him, and how he tells you he feels the exact same way. You remember falling asleep in his arms that night, you remember his soft lips against your forehead kissing you good night.

You remember how he leaves you that same day, telling you to still be happy even without him. You remember kissing him for the first and last time. You remember clutching onto his embrace, hearing him say he loves you one last time before opening your eyes and finding no trace of him anywhere.

You remember every moment, every memory, every fleeting moment you had with him. You remember how he made you feel — every time he made you laugh, every time he made you feel loved.

You remember him. You remember Jeon Jeongguk.

Tears start streaming down your face as you grab your phone, searching his name through your contacts. But you find nothing. Your fingers type out his number instead, memorizing it by heart, but your call goes straight to voicemail. You don’t stop there, you pull up almost every social media account you have, hoping to find any trace of him in your friends or your following list. You remember taking a thousand pictures with him, posting them all the time.

But there’s nothing about him. Your breathing gets ragged as your fingers fumble through your phone, calling your best friend. Knowing him, he’s still awake at this hour.

“Y/N? Hey, why are you still-”

“Chan? Chan, where’s Jeongguk? Did he tell you where he’s going? He never told me but maybe you know where he is?” You cut him off, tears still streaming down your face as you stutter out your inquiries.

“Jeongguk? Y/N, where are you? Are you outside? I’m going to pick you up, tell me where you are.” Chan says worriedly, and you can hear him cursing lowly under his breath and the sounds of keys jingling in the background.

“No, I’m at home. Chan, where is he? Why did he go? Why did he leave me without telling me where he’s going?” You’re sobbing into the phone now and Chan’s door shuts behind him as he sighs.

“Y/N, I need you to stay there until I get to you, okay? Wait for me.” You shake your head but remember he can’t see you.

“Chan, just tell me where he is. Please.” You’re begging now and you can feel the heartbreak rising up your throat, making you feel suffocated. You can’t breathe properly, but the next words you hear knock the breath out of your lungs.

“He’s dead, Y/N. He died saving you.”

iv.

“You were crossing the street when he saw you. He immediately ran over to push you out of the way. Your head hit the pavement, but he couldn’t get out of the way in time to save himself. He died the moment you both made it to the hospital.” Chan tells you slowly, his car coming to a stop by the park. Tears were flowing silently down your cheeks.

“But I met him, Chan. I spent an entire year with him.” you try to insist, turning over to face Chan whose eyes are glossy with tears now.

“You were in a coma, Y/N. You didn’t know each other before the accident either. How could you have possibly met him?” Chan sighs.

“Chan, I loved him for an entire year! Was he just a figment of my imagination then?” You cry louder, your heart breaking. Chan looks up in thought with a sad sigh, before turning to face you.

“Dead people have regrets. Jeongguk must have had his own regrets and didn’t want to leave just yet. Your wandering soul met his ghost that same night. But after spending a year loving you, he has to go. Maybe all he wanted was to make you happy. And now that he’s accomplished that, his time is up.” Chan explains and you close your eyes tightly, wishing for all of this to just be a huge nightmare.

But it isn’t.

“Can I get some fresh air for a bit?” You ask and Chan leans over the console to give you a hug. He opens the door from behind you and you give him a grateful smile before heading out. Your feet lead you to the very same spot again.

And just like the last time you were here, the lake is frozen over. Everything feels like déjà vu again. You crouch down on your knees with a sad, long sigh, your tears slowing down as they fall past your cheeks and down your chin.

You’re going to have to be happy without me now, okay?

I can’t stay here with you, Y/N.

Even when I’m gone, I’ll always be here,

I’m never going to truly leave you behind, Y/N. But I need you to be happy even without me. Can you promise me that?

It’s going to be hard, but can you do it? For me?

I love you, always remember that.

His last words ring in your ears, your hands coming up to clutch your chest as you feel your heartbeat. The wind blows softly, your hair fluttering in the wind as you wait for the usual shiver to come.

But you don’t feel it. Instead, you feel a blanket of warmth envelop you and you stop crying.

It’s barely there, but you can feel it. You can feel him.

“Jeongguk.” You whisper softly, your breath raspy from crying so much.

“I told you you’re going to get sick if you keep crying in this weather, angel. Why do you love crying in the winter?” His gentle voice rings in your ears and you bite on your lower lip to prevent yourself from crying again.

“I miss you.” you answer simply, and a gentle breeze blows again as you feel a soft kiss on your hair.

“I miss you too. But please be happy, okay? Don’t blame yourself. I never regret saving you that night, not even once.” He says gently as you nod rapidly. “I’ll see you soon, I’m going to wait for you. I love you, I always have, I always will.”

You’re scared he’s going to leave again like last time without hearing you say the words back, but his warmth still surrounds you. “I love you too.”

And as the words leave your lips and form into clouds of smoke into the cold, dark night, the warmth surrounding you slowly disappears, leaving you with the familiar, stinging, cold winter air. Jeongguk always calls you angel but you realize that after all this time, he was your angel. From the moment he saved you that night, to piecing your broken heart back together, up until his last ‘I love you’, he’s been your angel.

And he always will be.

#jungkook scenarios #btsboulangerie #btsghostie #btsghostiebingo #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts x reader #nise writes

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sylvie-writes · 4 years ago

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Summer Heat

Summary: in which the reader and her husband Andy go for a nice bike ride amidst the summer heat.

I’m making this a headcanon (My 1st at that) bc I have zero inspo atm

yeah, there is a shameful self-promotion in here if you see it.

kinda unedited, so plz pardon any mistakes

Labor Day was right around the corner, signaling the ending of summer. Soon you’d be going back to work and now was the only time you could spend with your husband.

The weather was an enjoyable 70 degrees, perfect for a bike ride. One that Andy had suggested last night over dinner.

“And tomorrow’s high will be 73 degrees, ideal weather folks!” The meteorologist then tuned off for a commercial break as you turned your attention from the tv to Andy. You could see the gears sharply turning in his head, pensive, as he mindlessly picked at the chicken.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about babe?” Reaching across the table you lightly tapped Andy’s resting hand, his head popping up from his daydream.

“Huh? Oh!” Your words replayed in his head as he hadn’t heard them in the first place. “We should go for a bike ride tomorrow. Ya know before work starts, just you and me.”

Andy looked up to you and held your hand that was once gently laying on his. A winsome smile stretched across his face.

“Sounds like a plan, bestie.” Happy with your answer, Andy resumed his dinner, you getting up for some salad.

For the bike ride, you wore some light denim shorts and a simple cantaloupe colored t-shirt, Andy wearing a red short-sleeve button down and grey shorts.

While Andy removed the bikes from the racks in the garage, you situated two water bottles and both of your wallets and cell phones.

Upon entering the garage, you stopped dead in your tracks to see Andy lifting your cruiser bicycle off of the rack, his shirt practically hermetically sealed around his arms, the buttons struggling to hold on. Once your bike was down, he went to grab his own, watching you out of the corner of his eye, making sure his movements were slow.

The two of you always goofed around, whether that be making jokes or just teasing each other.

“Muscle, baby, muscle.” Walking by, you dropped Andy’s water bottle into the holder, then tapping on his biceps as he laughed deep within his gut. Before you could walk away, his arms caught your waist, spun you around and pressed a short yet sweet kiss to your lips.

Once the two of you had your things together, Andy closed the garage while you pulled out your phone, playing a Spotify playlist that you shared with your husband, a hodgepodge of many songs.

Starting out on the street in your neighborhood, you realized there wasn't a plan for the day.

“Hey ‘Drew, where are we going exactly?”

The two of you rode side by side, making it much easier to communicate and keep track of the other.

“Into town! I was thinking, ice cream!” A devious grin grew onto his face. Andy knew you wouldn’t say no and that’s exactly what happened.

Turning out of your neighborhood and onto the sidewalk, your phone suddenly switching from “Don’t Stop Believing” to “Wannabe.”

Visibly you cringed and shook your head, about to change the song suddenly noticing Andy... attempting to dance while biking, singing along to the words.

“C’mon babe! Sing along!” You laughed at your husband’s puerility.

Ever the ham, Andy was doing this to embarrass you, to which your giggles would most definitely erupt. Your nervous habit.

The man really didn’t care if any of yours or his friends drove by, you were his wife, someone he could be a total goober around.

Finally you caved in and joined him.

“If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give.”

Eventually after a couple of nostalgic songs, you both made it into town and at the ice cream parlor.

A bike rack was cemented out front of the shop, convenient for you and Andy to lock the bikes up there.

Walking into the ice cream parlor, you both were met with a rush of cold air, or maybe it was just cold because you had been biking for quite some time now.

“Hello.. Oh! Hi! Mr. & Mrs. Barber what can I get you?” The young girl’s personality lit up once she saw your faces. Everyone in the town of Newton pretty much knew who your husband was, also making you just as known.

Returning a friendly smile to the girl, you ordered three scoops of mint chip, your’s and Andy’s favorite ever since college. (As mentioned here hehe)

Taking two spoons, you sat at the table where Andy happily eyed the stack of ice cream sitting in the bowl in front of him. Handing him the spoon, you giggled as he immediately dug into the mint chip, looking at you utterly confused.

Mouthful of ice cream your man-child answered…

“Wut?”

Some ice cream dripped down his bearded chin and you quickly reached for the napkin, dabbing his chin and dramatically sighing.

“Why have a child when I have to take care of you?”

Removing your hand from his face, Andy just shrugged his shoulders going back to mining through the ice cream scoops.

Exiting the parlor, stomachs full, your arm was wrapped in Andy’s as you strolled to the bikes. Just as Andy was about to unlatch the bikes, you stopped him.

Looking across the street you pointed to the little dress shop, the displays in the window shining from the afternoon sun.

“I need a dress for that charity dinner, that may I remind you, is the one you are dragging me to!”

Andy’s work was hosting a gala for an extension on one of the buildings.

You didn’t want to go, but your husband had to be there. Of course he didn’t want to show up either, yet he’d rather suffer with you and your jocular complaining, there to entertain him.

Compliant with your request, you both crossed the street and entered the boutique, many rows of handmade dresses lining the aisles.

Andy picked out two dresses while you already had two of your own in hand. Gladly, you took his picks and headed straight for the dressing room, a bench in front of it so you could showcase.

The first dress was a dusty rose, A-Line, asymmetrical chiffon evening dress. It’s three-quarter sleeves, stopped directly at the elbow, perfect for the upcoming fall weather.

The party was the first week of October but you wanted to get this shopping over with now.

The second dress, Andy had picked out. A burgundy floor length gown, tank sleeves and a v-neck that was stunning. Along the left leg, a slit that ran up to your knee, presenting your legs and your future choice of heels.

When showing that dress to Andy he looked up from his phone, absolutely stunned. You were always able to take away his breath, as cheesy as it sounds.

The third dress, a navy blue maxi dress. Long lace sleeves that were surprisingly comfortable.

And finally, the fourth dress. A grey cold shoulder midi dress, with some lace on the chest.

All of the dresses Andy loved, which really didn’t help. You specifically brought him along for his opinion.

So maybe you were a little indecisive on your own…

After a few minutes of debating, you received an answer.

“I love the burgundy one.”

And you agreed with him.

At the counter, Andy fought you to buy the dress to which you stubbornly replied that you’d buy it yourself.

It was a running game in your marriage. The two of you would always “fight” over who would pay.

“Just save us from the knock-down drag-out and let me pay!”

You both were really too good for each other, but in the best way possible.

The lady at the shop had politely offered to hold the dress so you could come back and get it tailored tomorrow. Very helpful since you only had bicycles as the chosen mode of transportation.

By the time you had finished dress shopping, it was already time for dinner, the ice cream dissipating and no longer able to quench your hunger.

The bicycles were still latched to the rack as you and Andy sat on the bench beside it.

“You hungry?” You nodded and Andy pulled out his phone looking for places to eat, you doing the same.

Ten minutes later, Andy had found a pizza parlor about 3 miles away, an easy bike ride for you both.

The pizza parlor chosen was your typical family-run restaurant, simple yet delicious food.

After being seated, the two of you were starving, so hungry that when the waiter came for drink orders, you also put in the pizza order.

For the twenty minutes that ensued, you and Andy shared a basket of bread, making conversation about work and such.

When the pizza showed up on the table, it was like a saint had arrived. Your empty stomachs figuratively thanked you both at the first bite of pizza.

Like ravenous animals, you both scarfed down at least two slices in a matter of minutes. Pausing, Andy looked at you and you did the same.

Setting the pizza down, the two of you just started laughing at your messy guzzling, pizza sauce on both of your faces.

The people around you were probably confused at your sudden outbursts. Then again who cares?

Once again, you wiped Andy’s face, him doing the same to you. As you wiped the sauce from his beard, Andy caught your hand and kissed your wedding ring.

“You truly are my best friend, (y/n). I don’t deserve you.”

Andy was most certainly your best friend and you his.

Eeekkk im literally screaming. I looove andy. Sorry for the crappy writing, yet thanks for sticking through it.

#andy barber #chris evans #andy barber x reader #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber x you #andy barber imagine #chris evans x reader

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smalltragedy · 4 years ago

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* herman tommeraas, cis man + he/him | you know donovan mercer, right? they’re twenty one, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, four months? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to ice boy by corbin like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole fear hidden behind a stoic stare, bleeding from your nose and from your gums, and the night sky with all its stars, with all its mystery and unknown thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is march 15th, so they’re a pisces, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 21, est, they/them )

looks away as i finally post his intro after being kinda awol fr however long. i love him a lot n hes also bri’s character mercy’s younger brother so u hv to be nice to him. think abt mercy’s life. then think abt ducky. im sry in advance tht his intro’s a little longer ive hd ducky fr like. a year or two n i’ve been playing him a While <3 as always like this if u’d like 2 plot n i’ll try 2 msg u bck bt otherwise im gna just hop right into threads bc obv i need to. change my methods.

ABUSE, VIOLENCE, DRUG ABUSE, EYE INJURY, GANG MENTIONS TW.

mini playlist.

father ;; the front bottoms / ice boy ;; corbin / lose yourself ;; eminem / my own worst enemy ;; lit / say it ain’t so ;; weezer / maps ;; yeah yeah yeahs / star stopping ;; lil peep / benz truck ;; lil peep / trauma ;; nf / northern downpour ;; panic! at the disco / your graduation ;; modern baseball.

statistics.

full name: donovan mercer.

nickname(s): ducky.

birthday: march 15th, 1999.

zodiac: pisces sun, aquarius moon, aquarius ascending.

mbti & temperament: intp & theorist / phlegmatic.

label: the despondent.

hometown: hell’s kitchen, new york.

sexuality: bisexual (bt not out).

pinterest.

biography.

born in hell’s kitchen to vinny mercer and a mother who ran out of the hospital as fast as she could, as soon as she was able. she’d gone so quick that she’d never given ducky a middle name - just donovan. the younger brother of mercy (shoutout 2 bri)

his father’s the right-hand man of a well known mob boss named lars amaretto, and so, you can imagine the kind of environment ducky (& mercy) grew up in. weapon & drug dealings, interrogations, violence around every corner. a brutal way of living, no place to raise two children.

implied abuse tw // their father was not kind, or merciful - and ducky was a runt compared to mercy, small and sensitive and kinder than his brother. weak, and filled with softness, with big brown eyes and a smile that should’ve been able to melt ice - but it didn’t. and it never did.

he cried often, and was punished often for it until he learned to stop crying - at least in front of their father, and mercy too, at some point. only in the comfort of his room, with doors locked and blinds drawn closed. implied abuse end of tw

he dreamed, too, dreamt often. he’d been obsessed with outer space since childhood, as long as he could remember. school had once shown man landing on the moon, and ducky wanted that. wanted to be that, wanted to be there, up with the stars, discovering the unthinkable.

abuse mention // but it was discouraged, heavily so - projects destroyed by an angry fist only to be reconstructed to the best of ducky’s ability, with mercy’s help, all throughout the night. he’d saved up for a telescope when he was thirteen, but it’d been destroyed almost immediately when discovered. not a day went by that their father didn’t tell ducky that he was, first and foremost, stupid - and would always be. end of abuse mention

to the point where he stopped trying, simply. he never graduated high school.

abuse mention // anxiety mention // anyways … at the age of fifteen, he’d have enough. he was sick of the abuse, the pain - the crying behind closed doors, the sneaking around, the constant feeling of needing to escape, impending doom, anxiety attacks in the shower and in school bathrooms and at the back of the bus where nobody sat besides him because he was - that boy, the son of that man, the brother of that brute. he’d been a teenager and he’d already been an outcast by all means - an outcast in his family, no matter how hard he tried to appease vinny, and an outsider everywhere else.

the plan took months of preparation, paper ripped out from the back of his school notebook and stuffed beneath his mattress, details of his escape from a checklist of essential items to makeshift maps of bus routes to different cities.

all for nothing, the moment vinny discovered it, the edge of a map sticking out after a rushed morning.

heavy abuse tw // violence tw // it’d been the same day he’d gotten the nickname - ducky - the way the wound wrapped below his mouth, and the way it’d begun to heal - puckered, at first, like a duck’s bill. a better name than eyepatch, at the very least. the scar’d run from the arch of his left brow, across his eye, down his cheek, and below his lip. his eye sustained injury, and not allowed to see a doctor about it, it never healed properly.

eye injury // corneal scarring, impairing his left eye. astronaut dreams destroyed, but not in a matter of seconds. in the matter of an hour, maybe more - and that’d been much, much worse.

he stopped trying to run away after that. tried to be more like their father, more like mercy - more brutish, less feeling. spoke less, and less. spoke hardly at all, unless spoken to first.

still didn’t matter. still lived his days in fear, still knew it’d never change. nothing would ever change.

the mercer brothers have been floating around the north carolina scene for ~5ish years now, trailing after their father who is consistently chasing after their mother with no luck. they’re currently residing in palm motel. can we get a hell yeah?

personality & facts.

he’s actually very? intimidating? when you first meet him. mercy’s younger brother, with a criminal’s record almost as long as his - a scarred face and a mean resting face. it takes at least five minutes of conversation beyond small talk before it starts to weigh on your mind that maybe, he’s not as bad as he seems.

and - well, he isn’t. but he’s guarded - so guarded. more-so than mercy, because mercy’s quicker to anger, quicker to react, and ducky tries so hard to drown out the noise. but he’s not a robot, and his facial expressions can give him away in a second.

he’s seen what happened when mercy had a glimpse of something good in his life (though, it wasn’t actually good at all - mercy had someone, at least. at the very least) - and how quickly it’d all fallen, and so ducky puts a barrier between him and others. distant, as much as he can be.

it hurts, because ducky isn’t by any means antisocial. he doesn’t hate people - he wants to be normal, wants to have friends and a girlfriend - or maybe even a boyfriend, god - but he’s so afraid. ducky is, by nature, a very scared person. terrified to his very core. he knows there is always eyes on him, and mercy too, and he knows that nothing is worth getting someone else hurt.

you know him as mercy’s little brother, and he’s quiet you know that - but his name is ducky, and you think - he’s not too bad. and he knows this, knows the doubts. knows that it’ll get back to mercy, eventually, that his brother is nothing more but a pussy. so he fights more than he’d like to, against the guilt that buries itself deep within his chest with every thrown fist. he throws up, afterwards, in the garbage can outside. too much to drink, he says, rare grin - because grins are convincing, and grins with bleeding gums are intimidating. he learned that from his brother.

violence makes him sick to his very stomach. he can’t watch horror films, or even action films, without feeling queasy. there’s been more times than he can count where he’d thrown up after a fight, or after an interrogation, usually in private but in the occasional presence of mercy.

they fight, a lot, sometimes - ducky’s too soft, too weak, and it’s bad and it’s terrible and ducky knows that mercy’s afraid. for him, of their father, and his wraith. ducky knows that if mercy isn’t hard on him now, their father will be on him harder. still. there’s resentment, small but there, like the flame of a match. he doesn’t know what’ll happen when there’s nothing more to burn, but he doesn’t want to find out. he’s afraid to find out.

he’s still in love with the moon and the stars, and the planet’s - and their moons, too. its subdued, now, though. a silent passion - one that is often not watered, left for rot. he sneaks into engineering lectures at the community college, occasionally, or physics, or whatever peeks the small curiosity inside of him.

commits small acts of kindness when nobody looks. doors held open, the meals of elderly folk eating alone suddenly paid. picks up litter besides trash bins, and always cooks extra than what he needs and leaves the rest for mercy. it’s these small things that make him feel, just the slightest, better about himself.

because god - there are layers and layers of self-loathing. it’s a labyrinth, and he’d never speak of it - but he can’t stand his own reflection. doesn’t keep photos of his family, only a few sparingly of mercy.

a liar, sad to say. has little experience with. ehem. intimacy, and the bodies of others, but lies often and says that he does. mostly to his brother, but word travels quick - and he’s not nearly as much as a fuckboy as is rumored, having only been with a handful of girls, if even that. it’s better this way - if people know that he throws others away like they’re nothing.

he ghosts often, too, if he does get to talking with anybody. the moment ducky feels a spark, something pulling at his poor heart, he ghosts. he develops feelings too easily, too often than he’d like. has left many friendships without explanation, because of this. you know the priest in fleabag season 2? the scene where he comes to fleabag’s house? yeah. tht’s ducky!

has maybe half the amount of clients that mercy does, but he’s working on it.

pretends he doesn’t care as much as he does. pretends a lot, like there’s nothing soft to him. but a trained eye can see clearly through this. even so - even if you can see that there’s more to ducky than violence and drug deals - you’d still have to break through a dozen walls.

in the rare occasion you get him talking - i mean, talking a lot - he’ll talk about space. ramble off a dozen useless facts about dwarf stars and black holes and all of jupiter’s moons. about a video game he likes, about nothing and everything at all. but as soon as he begins, he stops - embarrassed. apologizes, shuts his mouth, disappears to wherever. anywhere but there.

drug abuse // has a. complicated relationship with benzos n xanax n a various assortment of painkillers. ironic bc he hates drugs due to. his chosen career n wldnt do most of what they sell, bt yknow. this ws inevitable. hates beer bt forces himself 2 drink it bc toxic masculinity probably man idk.

overall just … he’s a soft boy, with a big heart - bigger than anybody else in his family, that’s for sure, but his exterior is far different than that, and it’s hard to tell.

violence mention // purposely loses fights so that he doesn’t have to severely hurt someone. because sometimes he just - he was raised in a violent environment, and sometimes he snaps. sometimes ducky just fucking snaps. and his vision goes red, and he can’t control himself - because need to survive kicks in, and violence is all he knows. if someone pushes ducky - pushes him enough, he breaks. he fights back. it’s all he knows. it’s all he knows. it’s all he knows, and that’s not an excuse - and he knows this, and god, he’s so tired. he is so. tired.

wanted plots.

u look good tonight ... ;; wld love a connection in which he is feeling emotionally compromised n maybe kinda hs a thing w someone bt hes like. very unreliable n kinda ghosting bc he is very afraid n it wld b maybe bad fr them to b anything other than hook ups. cld apply to smth very intensive or smth very surface lvl i’ll take thousands.

palms sweaty ... moms spaghetti ... ;; ppl tht ducky just hs fkn brawled. cld b anybody fr any reason. ducky prob lost n he prob lost on purpose bt also ur muse cld maybe kick ducky’s ass? cld b a fake fight cld b a real fight. cld b a npc fight n then ur muse cn patch up ducky? possibilities endless. maybe they hv a nice spaghetti dinner n both of them r both bruised up frm their fight. sometimes fights end in spaghetti dinners. thanks eminnem or whatever.

own worse enemy... ;; ducky needs friends bt hes bad at making friends n sometimes he fks shit up by pushing ppl away n self sabotaging n being a major cunt n sometimes he just ghosts bt hes always very remorseful abt it? this cld b a very like. up n down friendship of any type its just. where do they stand. r they friends. r they enemies. r they lovers? probably not lovers. prob just platonic. but still its the thought tht counts.

and also ;; literally just like. anything. clients who buy off of him n like. casual friends n casual enemies n casual hookups. ppl hes ghosted. ppl hes embarrassed himself in front of. maybe ur muse tries to get ducky to socialize or maybe ducky is like. u are too much fr me. n ur muse runs off crying. endless possibilities all u hv to do is call this number now.

#abuse tw #violence tw #drug abuse tw #gangs mention #eye injury tw #irvingintro #( ducky mercer. ) about. / ice boy.#sighs sm #also sry fr hw embarrasingly late this is #did i even spell tht rigth? no #did i spell tht one right? bno.#fuck.

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