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hyunsuks-beanie · 3 years

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Running Away With You

*Image Credits to rightful owners*

Bang Chan x reader; non idol AU; established relationship; fluff; midly suggestive at places

Word Count: 4.25k

A/N: A huge thank you to @youn9racha, for this super cute request. I am as much a sucker for road trips as I am for Chan, so I really enjoyed writing this!! I hope you like it as much as I did.

"Do you ever just want to pack your bags and run away in the night, without telling anyone?," you ask your boyfriend, Chan, as you both lay in bed one night. "That's an interesting question," he says, playing with your hair, "Though first I'd like to know what made you think of that." "Pfft. It's nothing too complex, Christopher. It's just a random thought that popped into my head," you say, while rolling your eyes at his inquisitive nature.

"Y/N, I know you, and I can sense that you've got something bothering that pretty head of yours, and making you want to run away. So tell me, what is it?," Chan speaks in a soothing tone, making you snuggle into his chest even more, while letting out a sigh. "It's just, work has been so crazy these past few days, and the pressures of the real world are getting to me. You remember when we were back in college? Whenever things got too hard, we used to go on road trips to clear our heads. Even a couple days away from the harsh real life were enough to rejuvenate us. I guess I just miss those times, now that real life responsibilities are wearing us down."

Once you're done with your little rant, Chan pulls your head up a little, making you look at him. He softly says, "Aww baby, I'm so sorry I didn't realize you've been struggling these past few days. I guess I've been too busy with my own work tonoticee. I know we're no longer in college, but I promise to you, that whenever the going gets tough, I'll do everything in my ability to help your through." "I know Channie, I know. I have you, and it's more than enough."

You give in to sleep after a while, and so, you fail to notice that Chan takes a little longer to fall asleep that night. He keeps thinking back on what you said earlier, carrying out an internal debate with himself. "Y/N is right. Work and responsibilities have taken a toll on us, and a road trip may be just what we need. But can we really afford to just 'run away?' There are too many projects, too many commitments. And we owe it to our colleagues to tell them that we will be away for a few days," he thinks to himself, before slowly drifting off to dreamland.

The next morning brings with itself a fresh hustle, but your face doesn't betray any sign of the frustrations you let come to the surface last night. But Chan knows better, and, seeing his reflection while getting ready for work, he realizes that his own expression mirrors yours. A thin veil to hide the fact that it's getting too much. At his office that day, he can't seem to focus on his work, since his mind keeps drifting back to your words. By the time the evening rolls around, he has made up his mind. He's going to run away with you, for a week anyway.

But a road trip needs some planning, and Chan wants this vacation to be the perfect little surprise for you. So, on his way home, he stops by at the convenience store to buy some essentials. Instant noodles, a few bottles of beer, disposable utensils, rental DVDs, he collects quite a few things, being reminded of your college days with each item he adds to his cart. In a moment of impulse, he even purchases a tent fit for two, and once he's done shopping, he hides everything in the boot of his car. You don't need to know of his plan, yet.

The following day, he leaves his office early, calling in a week's leave of absence due to some made-up reason. Instead of going home, he first drops by at your office. Not to meet you, but to get a similar application for leave approved on your behalf.

He finally heads back home to pack and ready a couple of things for your trip. "Y/N wanted to run away in the middle of the night, and that is what we'll do," he smiles to himself. When you come home, he remains tight-lipped about his little surprise for you, even though his excitement is trying to get the best of him.

Once the clock strikes twelve, he brings you out to his car, without telling you the reason. "Just please, come on! Don't you trust me?," he says, pouting. On his way out of the house, he picks up your phone from the couch, along the house keys. You don't notice this, however, as you're busy pestering him with questions. "Chan, why are we going out so late at night? What's going on? Tell me!" "You wanted to run away, right? Well, how about running away...... to the convenience store?," he smiles cheekily, making you giggle. "Gosh you're such a cheesy idiot," you say, getting into the car, still blissfully unaware of his intentions.

"Yeah, but I'm your cheesy idiot," he laughs, pressing his foot on the accelerator.

It doesn't take you long to realize that instead of driving over to the 24/7 close to your house, Chan has pulled onto the highway. You turn to look at him, only to see him smiling brightly, his eyes trained ahead. "Chan, what are you doing?," you ask, though feel like you already know the answer. "Running away with you," he says, taking your hand in his his, and bringing it up to his lips.

"What? But that was just a random rant! And what about work? We can't just disappear like that," you exclaim, to which, he only replies by giving you a knowing look. "Let me guess, you already informed our offices?" "Yes, and no," he quips. When you look at him quizzically, he elaborates, "I submitted applications for leave, making up some random excuse. So we have a whole week to ourselves." "But, what about essentials and supplies? We don't have anything to eat," you try to reason. He counters, "Babe, I've been planning this for two days, and I already stocked up on all our favourite snacks, drinks, and movies. I even got us a tent for days we want to sleep out in the open. I've got it all set, so don't you worry. The only thing I need you to do is to promise me that for the next seven days, you won't check your phone. I've already downloaded tons of songs and created at least 20 different playlists. You won't be getting any work-related messages, since I've taken care of that as well, and for directions, we'll take the traditional way, and ask around."

"Directions? Where exactly are we going anyway?," is your next question. To your surprise, he simply shrugs, before telling you that he doesn't have any specific place in mind. "Let's just wander away, going wherever the road takes us," he says, rather poetically, to which, you can't help but laugh. You then let out a soft sigh, making him look at you. "Sounds like a plan to me. Chan and Y/N, running away together, with no destination in mind," you smile, before reaching over and kissing his cheek.

"Let's play some music, shall we?," you ask, before hitting shuffle on the first playlist that pops up on your phone. You both settle in a comfortable silence, and soon enough, you begin to get drowsy. Chan notices this, and tells you to rest your eyes for a bit. "Promise to wake me up in like, two hours, so that I can take over the wheel," you yawn. "Okay fine bub, now sleep." Chan continues driving, occasionally stealing glances at your sleeping form. "How did I get so lucky?," he wonders, just like he does every day.

Morning finds you to be the one behind the wheel, as Chan naps contently in the passenger seat. The brightness of the sun finally wakes him up, and he realizes that you've left the highway, and are now driving through what appears to be the countryside. "I wonder where we're headed," he says while yawning. "Well, a signboard I saw earlier told me that we are somewhere in Jeonju," you reply. Instead of words, Chan's reply comes as a grumbling from his stomach. "Hungry," you quip, making him nod his head vigorously. You hit the breaks, before preparing some instant ramen for breakfast.

You eventually continue on your trip, and after a few hours, you find yourself in the midst of traditional Korean buildings, which seem to be from the Joseon dynasty. "Is this perhaps a tourist location?," wonders Chan loudly, making you reply, "Only one way to find out." You both get out of the car and do some asking around. You find out that the place where you houses the residences of the noblemen of old, and has now been converted into a shooting-cum-tourist spot. "Tourists can get traditional hanboks from that store, to complete the experience," an old woman tells you.

You turn to look at Chan, your eyes shining. Twenty minutes later, you exit the store, dresses from head to toe in a light blue hanbok. Chan's eyes nearly pop out when he sees you, and when he tells you the same, you can't help but blush.

You continue to hang around the place little while longer, and have dinner at a small eatery nearby.

"I feel like I'm 20 again. Thank you Channie," you say, holding his hand across the table. "Anything for you love," he winks.

Evening eventually comes around, and you guys hit the road once again. Around dinner time, you notice that you are crossing by a wood and supplies shop, and an idea strikes your mind. "Let's buy some wood and grill our meat!," you say excitedly, making Chan coo at how adorable you are. "Great idea babe. Let me park."

You quickly exit the car and visit the shop to buy some wood, then get started on your mini bonfire. It proves to be more difficult than you had thought, given how inexperienced the both of you are. In the end, you manage to get the fire going enough for the meat to be grilled, and turn around to ask Chan to bring in the eatables, when you see his face. It's completely covered in soot from his failed attempts at lighting the flame, making you double over in laughter. "You look so funny," you say while gasping for air. "Wouldn't be so funny if I got this soot on your face now, will it?," he retorts, coming after you. You try to run, but it's obviously in vain, as Chan grabs hold of you in under a minute. You both laugh harder than you have in months, and when you finally calm down, you give your boyfriend a tight hug. He hugs you back, and whispers, "I love you." "I love you too, Channie," you say, "Now go and get the meat, I'm hungry." "Way to ruin the moment, Y/N," he grumbles as you push him away.

After dinner, you walk up to the shop owner to thank him, and ask his permission to camp nearby. "It rained a few days ago, so the ground is still wet, and will be uncomfortable. But you can rent a room here for the night if you'd like," he offers. "That'll be great sir, thank you for the help." Chan says, coming up behind you. The shop owner gives you the keys to a room, and before leaving, says something that leaves you both red at the ears. "No funny business here, please. I know you both are young, and controlling yourself is hard. But I'd rather you didn't 'play around' unnecessarily on my bed."

You get changed and climb into the bed, snuggling up to each other. "First day down, babe," you smile with your eyes closed. When Chan doesn't reply, you open them, only to find your man staring at you with love in his eyes. "This is pure healing for me, thank you for suggesting this trip, love," he says. You talk about anything and everything for a while, and then suddenly, you feel Chan's soft lips pressing against yours. He gives you a sweet kiss, and pulling away, says, "About what the old man said earlier.....," while smirking. You shove his chest, saying, "We shouldn't," making him pout. "Although, making out doesn't count as 'funny business,' does it?" And that's enough to make him press his lips back to yours, moving so as to hover over you.

You wrap your arms around his back, pulling you closer to him. He licks your lower lip, making you part your lips and allowing his tongue to enter. After a while, you break away, only to grab his T-shirt and take it off his body, before wrapping your hands around his bare back. Needless to say, the two of you didn't get much time to sleep that night.

You get started on your way again the next day, and around mid-day, you see a milestone telling you that you are entering Iksan. The small town seems a lifetime away from your hectic lives in Seoul, and you spend the day going from shop to shop, buying small trinkets and stuff that are reminiscent of the country life. The residents welcome you with open arms, and more than once, you find an old couple telling you how cute you look together.

"He's a keeper, that one. Don't let him go," a lady says to you, pointing at Chan, who can be seen playing with some kids. "I won't," you smile.

That night, you stay over at a family's house, who were nice enough to allow you to sleep on their futon. You have dinner with them, during which the kid's ask Chan, "Are you two married?," making him choke on his food. "I'm sorry for that, they are learning about families and marriage in school these days," says their mother. "It's all right," you smile, "But no, we aren't married." "But do you plan on getting married soon?," the kids persist.

You and Chan look at each other and smile, before saying in unison, "Yes. One day."

The next morning you take the wheel from Chan, and the both of you drive of in silence, as High School Musical plays on your dashboard screen. After a while, you say, "What is it, Channie? You've been staring at me," "It's just that, you seem way too quiet. You've been like that since last night, after dinner," he replies, "What's the matter? Are you okay?" "I'm fine, just been thinking." "About?" "About us," you begin, elaborating when you see him looking at you expectantly. "When those kids asked us if we were married, it got me thinking.....I love being with you, I love waking up next to you. We live together any way, and share all the burdens that come with it too. So I guess...getting married to you wouldn't be so bad after all," you say softly.

"Is this your way of proposing to me?," giggles your boyfriend. "What? No! I mean, I did say it would be nice to get married, but I don't have a ring right now. And I meant it when I said 'one day,' but it's not today," you hurriedly say. Chan bursts out laughing at this, "I know love, I'm not ready yet either. But yes, if I have to get married, I'd rather marry you than anyone else."

Around noon, you decide to set up camp in a forest clearing. It takes you a few hours to get the tent up and ready, as you keep getting delayed because you can't stop fooling around. Amid Chan getting himself wrapped with the tent instead of unwrapping it, and you assembling the rods the wrong way up, you spend some not-so-productive, but enjoyable quality time in each other's presence, something you didn't know you had been craving for.

Evening rolls by, and you have a light dinner with ramen, some roasted chicken, and beer, following which, you lay down on a picnic mat, with your head on Chan's arm. "The stars look so beautiful, don't they Channie?," you softly ask. "Not as beautiful as you," he says cheesily, making you hide your face into his side. "But yeah, you're right. I really wanted to go stargazing with you, but we never got the time," he sighs. "I'm so happy we came on this trip, love." You open your mouth to speak, but just then, you notice a star shooting across the sky. "Channie! Channie get up, it's a shooting star!," you squeal, before closing your eyes and praying. Once you open them, you notice Chan looking at you with a gaze full of love. "Didn't you wish for something?," you ask. "I did," he smiles. "But what about you? What did you wish for?"

"Come closer Mr. Bang, I'm not about to announce my wish to the whole world," you whisper slyly. He leans in closer to you, only to have you say, "You don't tell others what you wished for," before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He smiles into the kiss, before breaking away and hugging you tight.

The next day turns out to be the last before you have to turn back homeward, and so, Chan suggests you make the best of it. "From what I know about the country's geography, we should be close to a beach somewhere here," he says, making you look at him with your eyes shining. "Too bad we're not going to get help from the GPS, but I'm really enjoying the phone detox," you smirk. "Who needs GPS when we've got people? Look there, we're gonna enter a city soon, so let's ask our way around," he replies. An hour and a half later, you come across a milestone that tells you the beach is a mile away. Once there, you look for a deserted spread of sand, keen on not getting stuck in an unnecessary crowd. "We face enough of that in the city, I just want to be alone with you," you whisper, taking his hand in his.

When you finally succeed in finding such a place, Chan giggles, "Good thing I packed our swimming gear as well, right?" "You did well sweetie," you say, booping his nose softly. After getting changed, you spend the next few hours playing in the water. Suddenly, Chan pulls you flush into his chest, and whispers in your ear, "You look so hot wearing that, and with water dripping down your body, I'm really finding it hard to stay away." "Then don't," you say, biting your lip. One thing leads to another, and you're thankful for the changing shack nearby.

By the time the sun starts to set, Chan has pulled you out of the water, and is making you dance with him on the sand, after bringing your phones and portable speaker from the car. Waltzing to the music, you shyly say, "I love you Channie," making him blush and reply with an "I love you too, my cute baby."

After dinner you climb atop the roof of your car, talking about your younger days. "You remember when we got into a huge fight once, back in college? And I was about to break up with you, only to have you whisk me away on a road trip, just like you did this time," you say, laying your head on his shoulder. "It did get you to stick around with me though," he replies, laying his chin on your head. "And you remember how we first met? You spilled your latte all over my T-shirt, and then took me to the infirmary to check for any burns," he reminds you, making you throw your head back in laughter. "You kept whining for a year over how you missed out on being the 'campus heartthrob' because of that incident, when in reality, you still were the most popular freshman," you jab a finger at his chest, smiling.

"Okay, I've got a secret. I wasn't actually sad about the campus heartthrob thing, since I already knew everyone was head over heels for me," he grins, making you punch his arm. "Hey! Let me finish first. I knew everyone loved me, but I only had eyes for you. And whining was just a tactic to get you to feel sorry for me and go on a date with me." You fake gasp at this, exclaiming, "Treachery! And here I thought you were genuinely sulky about that. do you have any idea how guilty I felt that whole year?!" When he simply states at you, unamused, you add through a pout, "I'm planning on revoking your cuddle privileges."

All of a sudden, you realize that Chan is moving over to lay on top of you, trapping you between him and the roof. "You know you can't resist me, babe. So don't even try," he says. "You are right about that," you say, pulling him for a kiss.

You both end up remaining awake till dawn the next day, and decide to start on your journey home around mid-way, after having napped inside the car for a few hours. You get started on your way just after noon, with Chan behind the wheel, and you eating (and feeding him) from a packet of gummy bears in the passenger seat. You re-enter the city you had seen earlier the previous day, and decide to spend some time roaming around. It's a fairly big city, but still much quieter and more peaceful than Seoul. You pass on visiting the mall, reasoning that you do so too frequently back home.

Soon enough though, you come across a store that displays a signboard saying, "Free wine tasting session for couples." You both look at each other, and with a smirk, Chan says what is on your mind. "Can't pass up on sophisticated wine for free now, can we?" You giggle and say, "Nope, absolutely not." And so, in you go. The session proves to be equal parts fun and educational. From the Chardonnay to the Pinot Noir, you go through with the tasting of at least 20 different types of wines. While you actually stick to the literal meaning of the word "tasting," drinking no more than a sip per drink, Chan goes all out, and not too long after, he's totally drunk. "Hey there beautiful, mind telling me your name?," he tries to act smooth with you, making you facepalm as you say, "I still get surprised about how low your alcohol tolerance is for your size," you shake your head.

Once you leave the tasting, half dragging, half carrying a wasted Chan who continuously tries to flirt with you, you decide to take the wheel and hit the road to the outskirts of the city, and cover the remainder of the trip once you're fully sober. When you cross over the city's borders and re-enter the road in the wilderness, you hit the brakes. You let Chan sleep, knowing that waking him up will only give him a hangover. Getting out of the car, you get yourself something to eat from the boot, and once you're full, you snuggle up to him, throwing a blanket over the both of you.

You wake up around nine at night, and as you had predicted, you see Chan holding his head in agony. You nurse him for while, before putting him back to sleep, then continue down the road. You keep sneaking glances at his sleeping form, smiling to yourself when you notice how peaceful he seems, something he hasn't looked like in ages. "We really needed this. Thank you for always knowing what I need, and for always taking care of me. I love you," you thank him silently.

When he finally wakes the next morning, he sees you huddled up in the driver's seat, and he can feel his heart swell with love for you. He gets out of the car, then picks you up and softly places you on the backseat so that you can rest well. Looking at your expression, he can easily see how content and truly happy you are. You are his reason to keep going, and if this little getaway idea of his could help you find your reason to keep going (unbeknownst to him, he himself is your reason to endure too), his heart is at ease. Sure, your week off is going to end soon, but he's positive that you will have rejuvenated yourself and would have gathered enough beautiful memories to last you a while.

Sure, going back to Seoul would mean going back to the hustle and bustle of your lives, but hey, he knows that that you by his side, he'd be ready to run away from home again any day, because his home is with you. But even more than that, he knows that with you by his side, life will be just a tad bit easier. Because you will always be there to remind him of who he was back in college. You will keep the young, carefree boy who loved you to bits, alive in him. And he'll do the same for you. And with that thought, he drives off into the distance, back to where you started from, with a smile on his face.

Because at the end of the day, you both have each other, and that's all that matters.

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jameui · 3 years

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BOYS, BOYS, BOYS

PAIRING: Sim Jaeyun x M!Reader

GENRE: Fluff, Horror

WARNINGS: I would love to put it, but it would be a major spoiler to the plot.

SUMMARY: Every 4 in the morning strange things happen inside your dorm room.

(A/N: it's not really horror-ish, but.. yeah, just something gross i guess.)

You weren't really fond of being always outside of your dorm. You always liked to tuck yourself in your bed and never left the room unless it's something school related. They may call you a lone wolf for trapping your ownself inside your room, but it wasn't like that in your case. You had friends, three to be specific. You were just really not into socializing much or being around so many people, considering that this day your three friends were attending a party right now as you read your favorite book. In this whole world, your only comfort was your bed and your books. Nothing else more.

Your roommate, also one of your friends who was a party dog, was in the bathroom taking a shower and angry at you for not waking him up at the right time. A few minutes later and Jake was stepping out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, hanging too loose for your liking.

The male continued to mumble and curse 'I'm late', while you just laughed at him that got you a glaring Jake. You rolled your eyes at him and chuckled. "Relax, Jake. It's just a party, not a test."

Jake scoffed as he fit himself in his jeans and shirt. "Easy for you to say. You don't like parties."

You gave him another eye roll as you got up from your bed and approached the male who had on now a jacket. You were able to notice the tine specs of dust on his jacket so you wanted to wipe it off. "Now, don't be out too late. I'm scared of being alone."

Jake nodded his head and gave you a kiss on the forehead. "Don't worry, babe. I won't be out too long. I don't want to miss you so much." Jake stated making you giggle as the taller ruffled your hair playfully. "I'll be back before 10." He said as he moved to the door and opened it.

"That's... nevermind, have fun!" You told him as he sent you a flying kiss, you acting like you caught it and placed it on your chest. He chuckled before he left and was now out of your sight.

Did I forget to mention that he was your most loyal boyfriend? Anyways, you walked up to the door and gave Jake one more wave of goodbye as the dog-like person, turned around to give you... his middle finger. You gasped and shouted. "Rude!" You heard a chuckle from Jake before he waved goodbye and smiled.

You chuckled and got back inside your room to finish the book that you were reading.

After a few hours of waiting for Jake, it was already past 9 and you had guessed that maybe Jake got invited in a sleep over, you got yourself turning the lights off and getting ready for bed after you had taken a shower. You finally laid down on your bed and drifted off to sleep, taking a ticket for one to dreamland.

You woke up to the sound of something rattling and banging on the top bunk where Jake's bed was located, at a time around 4 a.m. It was too loud for you that it couldn't give you enough sleep. Was Jake already home? You thought to yourself. "Jake, can you please be quiet? I'm trying to sleep here." You grumbled with your eyes still closed.

A few seconds after and the noise subsided until it turned to silence. You hummed to yourself and felt the drowsiness hit your senses once again, but lost it all at once the moment you shut your eyes back up. You tried to count sheeps in your head, making fake scenarios in your head, just basically counting 1-100 until you fell asleep, but none of these supposed sleeping strategies helped you go back to sleep.

Finally after a few deep breathes and nerve calming, you were able to fall asleep and got that nice nap you so much deserved.

The next morning, you were able to sleep in on your alarm and got late for your first class. "Damn it, Jake. He didn't even wake me up " You groaned in annoyance, hands full of your homeworks.

You arrrived at your classroom and your teacher was kind enough to let you in since it was your first time being late in the class. Perks of being an early bird, I guess, but that still doesn't change the fact that Jake didn't wake you up the moment he needed to. Maybe he was just taking revenge on you, but this was no time for revenges. It's for his education for pete's sake, this is not a matter of fun and games. Just not.

During break, you got up from your seat almost immediately and walked your way to Jake's classroom angrily. As if scripted, you saw Jake talking to his friends your eyes forming a small glare. "Sim Jaeyun." You stomped the rest of your way to Jake and stopped in front of him, glaring up at him while tapping your foot on the ground agitated and crossing your arms. "Why did you do that?"

Jake pulled his brows together in confusion. "Did what?" Jake chuckled and gently placed a kiss on your head, which you always let him do, calming you down a little.

"What do you mean 'did what'? Just this morning, at I think around 4, I knew you got back at the room. You were so loud and didn't give me enough sleep, AND you didn't wake me up." You pouted at Jake who seemed to be more than just confused as ever.

"I don't think so, M/n. I was at Niki's and I had just arrived." Jake answered you, making you knit your brows.

"Gah, forget it. If this is one of your pranks, Jake, no more cookies for you." You threatened and Jake widened his eyes.

"I swear, even the boys know I was there." Jake said. "Believe me, babe." Jake pleaded holding your hand.

You rolled your eyes at him and planted a small kiss on his lips. You do believe him, but now that you do, you started to fear what the thing was that was with you this morning.

The following days, you were able to get enough sleep and didn't experience anything weird happening, so you forgot all about it and shaked it off as just a very vivid nightmare.

Although, one day when Jake was at his mother's house to attend the funeral of his grandmother, Jake decided he needed to stay for a while with his mother since she needs all the comforts she can get for the time being. Now that you were alone, three nights in a row the same thing happened and it felt like a torture it even got to the point where you'd hear whispers and hot breathe on your neck. You knew it wasn't Jake, the smell and the tone of his voice didn't match well with his. Who the fuck was this guy with you inside this room?

You flinched in shock and shook the moment you heard your phone ring. "Fuck, the sun's up already?" You said to yourself and took your phone that you placed from below your bed. You only did that, taking your phone from the ground, but why did it get you shaking?

Thankfully, it was a call from Jake. You immediately accepted it and placed it near your ear. "B-babe? Jake? Hello?"

'Woah, woah, calm down, princess. Why do you sound so shaken up?' You could hear Jake chuckling at the other line.

"A-are you coming back already?" You asked him pitifully.

'Not yet, babe. I might come back after a few more days.' And that was the reply you dreaded the most.

You started to cry and whimper that got Jake taken aback. Sure, he knew you've missed him a lot, but it wasn't like you to cry because you miss him so much. He immediately knew something was up. 'M/n? What's wrong?'

Afraid what was with you could hear you, you whispered. "Help me."

'I'll send the boys there. They'll be there in a few minutes, just stay there.'

A few minutes later, Sunghoon and Jay arrived at your dorm room feeling bad at the current state you were in. You barely moved an inch from your position and your face was stained with your tears. Sunghoon was the one to approach you and got you off your bed as you rode on his back when he insisted to give you a piggyback. "You're alright now, M/n. You don't have to cry anymore." Sunghoon hushed you as nodded your head and buried your face on his back and sighed in relief, eventually falling asleep.

---

You flinched in shock and shook the moment you heard your phone ring. "Fuck, the sun's up already?" You said to yourself and took your phone that you placed from below your bed. As you were about to pick up your phone, you were able to notice something on the screen of your phone. It didn't look clear enough, so strategically to avoid looking down from under your bed. You tilted your phone at an angle where your screen faced the bottom of your bed.

There you saw the face of your ex boyfriend who you ate to avoid getting imprisoned when he broke up with you. Some boys just doesn't know who the person they're messing with.

#x male reader #bottom male reader #bxb #male reader #idol x male reader #fanfiction #kpop #jake x male reader #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun x male reader #enhypen x male reader

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beneathashadytree · 3 years

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CLINGY HUSBAND - KATSUKI BAKUGOU X READER

Warnings : characters are obviously aged up, just a few cuss words, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : domestic fluff

Word count : 0.6K words

Synopsis : A sleepy Katsuki is bound to be ten times clingier than normal.

Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.

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Masterlist

Katsuki trudged across the bedroom from the shower, ash-blonde hair still a little damp even after drying with the towel over and over again. Vermilion eyes struggled to stay open, and he visibly grimaced at the bright lights he hadn't yet switched off.

Watching him in amusement from my side of the bed and setting down my phone to charge, I picked up on how his drowsy yawns were getting closer together, and how his hand pulled up his black t-shirt to scratch right above the hem of his sleep sweatpants.

"Tired?" I asked, re-stylying my hair before I could rest my head and stifling a laugh as he gave me the most deadpan look he could muster while making his way over to the bed.

"What's it look like, genius?" he grumbled with a roll of his eyes, switching off the glaring lights, but the tiredness was still evident in his sluggish movements, "Been a real fucking long day."

At that, he flopped headfirst onto my body, not even bothering to get under the covers.

Wheezing, I tried to shift into a more comfortable position, "Babe, you're heavy, wiggle down a bit."

I tried to pry his arms off me, but he'd latched them around me so tight that it was practically impossible to adjust his hold in a way that wouldn't ensure that my legs would fall asleep within a minute.

"Sucks to be you I guess. 'M not moving," he mumbled, somewhat incoherent as his lips were smashed against my chest.

Heaving exasperatedly, I pursed my lips and decided to give in to his clutch. It's not as if any position with a man as bulky as he was would've been exactly the most comfortable---having my kneecaps crushed during my sleep was definitely on my list of things to fear.

Smirking victoriously as he felt my body go lax underneath him, he tangled his long legs with mine.

"Clingy bastard," I grumbled, though the fondness in my eyes contradicted my words as I began to gently brush my fingers through his damp soft hair.

Katsuki gave my side an annoying pinch, "Fuck off, you're literally always stuck to me like moss on a tree."

Gasping incredulously, I tugged at his hair, "Am not!"

Opening one scarlet eye, he gave me a judgemental (albeit drowsy) look, "Who was it that wanted to hug me while I was shaving in the bathroom this morning because they 'have to watch their hot husband get ready'?"

"That's---"

"Be quiet, I want to sleep now."

I rapped my knuckles against his scalp, before relaxing once again. His breathing was rapidly slowing down, and I could almost see the stress melting away from his body. Right before I felt his consciousness slip away, I lowered my neck a little to press a kiss---or two, or three; it wasn't uncommon for me to get carried away with my affections---to the crown of his head.

He subconsciously squeezed me tighter to his thumping heart, his words coming out so distorted that I had to decipher his mutterings, "Love you, 'diot," before finally drifting off to dreamland in my arms.

Face growing warmer, I whispered the profession back, allowing my own body to succumb to sleep, not even bothering to pull up the covers when his own body warmth permeated my clothes and eased my slumber.

Taglist: @thispersoniscrazy @wifeofkyojuro @the-foreigner @cloroxisadelectabletreat

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jangofctts · 3 years

Text

For Things We Must Bear (mainly Thorin x (fem) Reader)

Rated: mature (no smut yet)

Word Count: 4kish

Warnings: none yet save for mature language, grumpy dwarves, an irritated Bilbo?? you almost get trampled kejkejhr idk lmk if I miss anything for this

a/n: third chap yay!!!! enjoy!

Chapters: (1) (2)

Drowsiness pulls at your eyelids like little weights, unused to long hours without sleep. If you’re not careful you’ll fall asleep standing. Or with your eyes open. Creepy.

Right after the little run in with both Bilbo and Thorin, you were ready to throw yourself into bed and drift off to dreamland. You were so close—the second your cheek touched that heavenly fluff of silk and goose feathers, you remembered a very essential part of trekking across the world. The titular role, in fact.

Packing.

You’re no organizational whiz, you’re more of the throw everything in a wadded clump and hope for the best, sort of person. It drives your cousin mad, hence why it always falls on Bilbo to pack for those one in a blue moon excursions to Frog Morton. This time you’re on your own. Besides—it’d be a bit rude to be knocking on Bilbo’s door at this hour. He’d bite your head off. You grimace.

Using Bilbos spare hiking bag, you throw in the essentials; clothes (that you also borrow from Bilbo seeing as your collection of trousers features only a ratty old pair), toiletries, a few field guides your friend had gifted you on the various flora and fauna that inhabited Middle Earth, a bedroll and a blanket. The rest that didn’t fit, you simply wore it on your person.

Huh—guess packing isn’t as bad was you’ve made it out to be.

You glance at the small clock on your nightstand. Yeah, you still have a couple hours to sleep. It’s all for naught, you quickly find—your head is a mess of anxieties, the bed is lumpy, and who left the damn flume open? Strange dreams concerning dragons and jewels plague the fleeting seconds you do manage to slumber, yet all too soon the blaring chimes of your alarm rattles through your room.

The morning is hushed, save for the constant scuffling of boots and the indistinct, tired mumblings of the dwarves rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Bombur has already helped himself into your kitchen, busying himself with arranging an assortment of tea, coffee and the remainder of the seed cakes that are now spread over the kitchen table. Bacon and eggs sizzle away in the cast iron pans, filling the air with an enticing aroma. It’s a welcome surprise.

“Hope ye don’t mind, lass,” Bombur says with a cheery grin. Still shaking off the dregs of sleep you shrug away his concerns of the Company tearing through the last of your food stores. It’s Bilbo’s problem now. He scoops up a healthy amount of eggs and two slivers of bacon and plops it onto a plate. Bombur places it into your eager hands. “Eat up—we ‘ave a long journey ahead o’ us.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You wash down the meal with a cup of coffee, scrub your plate clean and then wander to the front door. You pack lays undisturbed from where you left it and with a sigh you sit on the bench beside it. It’s unlikely sure, but after the little spat you had with Thorin only hours ago, you wouldn’t be surprised if you were accidentally left behind. And so you wait for the others—falling into a light sleep accompanied by the crickets and dissonant chatter of nightingales and mourning doves outside the door.

Stuck in a hazy half-sleep, you startle awake as heavy boots stomp dangerously close to your toes. You yelp and yank your feet out of the way of the heavy bag that slams onto the hardwood floor, right where your poor toes were innocently resting.

“Durin’s beard, Cricket!” Kíli exclaims with a startled shout. “Where’d you come from?”

You glare up at Kíli, clutching your knees as close to your chest as you could manage. “I was already here, you oaf. Next time, mind where you toss your pack!”

Kíli scratches the underside of his stubbled chin and glances down at the offending bundle. He nods and toes the pack closer to the door. “There—no harm done to your wee toes.”

Rolling your eyes you return the soles of your feet to the ground. With a flimsy apology, Kíli takes it upon himself to move your pack off the bench and place it beside his. He promptly sits to your left, shoulder to shoulder with you, and leans back against the wall. Kíli shoves his hand into the lapels of his overcoat, rummages around and procures two, somewhat whole, honey cakes. He hands you the better one.

“You’re comin’ wif u’ then?” Kíli says between chewing and shoving the rest of the treat into his mouth.

“Uh, yes,” you say. “Bilbo isn’t very happy about it.”

Kíli nods and brushes the crumbs from his chin and coat. “Bah—it’s only a world away. You’ll be back by supper.”

You snort. “Thank you, Kíli.”

He shrugs and eyes the honey cake you have yet to eat. Kíli’s puckish face, half illuminated by the soft glow of the candles nearby, lifts with a begging grin. He takes one of your hands in both of his and softly croons with the great, spirited ardor of a lover lost beyond the wheels of time and twinkling stars. Tch—what a manipulative sap. “Oh, my darling Cricket…are you going to eat that?”

You gawk at the dwarf and yank your hand free from his hold. “What was the point in giving me this if you were just going to ask for it back?”

Kíli’s smile is sheepish.

“Because he’s a miserable wretch who thinks with his stomach and not his head,” Fíli interjects as he rounds the corner. His bag joins the two of yours with a heavy thunk.

“Like you’re any better,” Kíli huffs.

The bickering ends there. Fíli then squeezes onto the bench, sandwiching you between himself and his brother. The wood groans at the added weight and by the Valar, there’s no fucking room. You’d complain if all your bones weren’t suddenly crushed and inverted into themselves, making it quite difficult to breathe. At least it’s warm…

Under normal circumstances, being squished between two unfamiliar dwarves would no doubt cause some sort of anxiety, however—exhaustion is a funny thing that twists even the soundest mind into making questionable decisions. You don’t rightly care about the current seating arrangement—only that it doesn��t impede your little cat nap. It doesn’t.

In fact, all three of you are lulled off to sleep, only to be rudely awakened by the others parading through.

“Up ye get, lads and lady!” Bofur says, shooing the three of you off the bench. “Off to evict an overgrown lizard and plunder a mountain.”

He’s far too cheery about it.

You sigh, rub the sleep from your eyes and refasten your cloak around your shoulders. The pack comes next, feeling heavier than when you first packed it. The hell did you put in there? Rocks? Whatever—there’s no time to rearrange, Thorin is already out the door with Balin and Dwalin in tow.

You’re the last one that leaves the house. Your hand hovers over the weathered brass handle as your eyes follow the bend that leads towards Bilbo’s bedroom door…perhaps you should wake him—it isn’t too late…

Someone calls your name—you sigh again and push that thought aside.

If he wanted to come, he would be here.

With one last glance around the darkened interior, you close the door behind you. The latch locks into place with a finalizing click.

You don’t look back.

The Company winds around the crisscrossing pathways through Hobbiton, lit by the lanterns that pepper the little gates and gardens. The surrounding scenery washes out into darkened blobs and shadowy shapes, forcing you to remember your home by heart rather than sight. A blessing in disguise, you think. If you were to catch one last glimpse of your childhood home, the nostalgic ache and the simple magic of the Shire would soak into your bones and freeze around every vein and tendon. Familiar and comfortable—a dangerous trap.

You force the idea of it away. Instead you occupy yourself by focusing on Fíli who walks ahead of you. You study the intricate braids that are laden with metalwork, his clothes and the twin blades that he carries on his back. After that activity melts into boredom, you start counting his steps—see how high you get before you’re interrupted or lose count. Your highest record is four hundred and ninety-three—and by that time, the sun has made a brilliant appearance. It turns Farmer Maggot’s wheat fields into spun gold—rippling and dancing in great waves with the crisp, morning breeze.

Here you stop for a break.

“The ponies are just up ahead,” Thorin announces. A collective sigh blows through the group. Thank Eru you don’t have to carry this blasted pack the entire journey—your feet already ache.

Dwalin and Thorin break off and continue around the bend to fetch the ponies. They soon return with the help of Farmer Maggot and his two sons, Arlan and Orson to coral the band of ponies over. You’re familiar with the two boys—Orson is seven years your senior and Arlan the same age as yourself. Their sisters, Poppy, Ivy and Sage, all fall in their early teens. You don’t see them much save for birthdays and celebrations and even then you can’t rightly tell which one is which.

As Thorin and Farmer Maggot barter their way around payments, the two brothers curiously inspect the strange company. The pair haven’t changed much over the years. Orson's raven black hair still sticks straight up, gravity defying and untamable, clawing to be free from the floppy sun hat he wears. Same goofy smile, kind brown eyes with endearing, crooked teeth and a smattering of freckles that dot his entire face.

Arlan’s curly hair is just as wild as his brother’s, colored flame red instead of black and beginning to spill over the nape of his neck. Shorter than Orsen, yet stockier in build necessary for hauling hay and plowing the turnip fields all day. Not very clever but his kindness makes up for it.

“‘Allo, Cricket,” Orsen greets with a tip of his hat. You’re surprised he spots you through the mass of armored bodies and wild hair. “Finally bribed your way out of the Shire?”

Arlan gapes at the news. His sun bleached eyebrows, well on their way to disappearing entirely, shoot up his forehead. “You’re leaving?”

You nod. “You won’t have to worry about your missing mushrooms anymore.”

Orson raises his hat to scratch the top of his head, smooths his hair back and replaces it. “Don’ let Pa hear ya say that, Cricket. He ‘ent in the best o’ moods what with you lot taking all our ponies.”

“I was wondering where those went,” Arlan mumbles half to himself. “Thought the rabbits got to ‘em.”

“Yes, well,” you sniff. “Collin Worrywart had his fair share too—I only took a handful.”

“How considerate,” Orson laughs. He steals another glance over your traveling companions and furrows his brows. “Where’s Mr. Bilbo?”

You frown, and rub at your arm. “I’m going alone, Orson.”

“Och, but you’re so little!” Arlan cries. “You’ll get lost—or stepped on!”

Ok, yes, maybe you are a little bit shrimpy, but that hardly matters. “I’m not a fauntling anymore, y’know. I can manage on my own.”

“Aye. ‘Course ya can,” Orson agrees. He ruffles your hair, laughing as you slap at his freckled hand. “We’ll miss seeing you around.”

The boys bid you their goodbyes with bone crushing hugs and more hair ruffling. The duo then leave to help the others with the ponies. Someone passes a set of reigns into your hands and while you’re ecstatic about not walking any longer…there’s just one, tiny, itty bitty problem—

You don’t know how to ride a horse.

See—it would’ve been fine. You could have figured it out by yourself—you’ve seen plenty of people do it in both books and real life. Any old fool with a working brain could. Unfortunate that you weren’t any old fool, nor possessed a functioning brain apparently.

Your foot finds the stirrup and with a great pull of the horn to lift yourself up, the saddle flies sideways. You don’t expect it—with a yelp, your feet are abruptly swept out from under you, one ankle caught in the stirrup while your other limbs flail about looking for salvation. The air is punched out of your lungs as your back meets the dusty floor and you’re not sure what’s worse. The cacophony of sympathetic oofs or the pain.

Orson and Arlan are quick to rescue you, pulling your leg free from the suspended angle it got stuck in and putting you back onto your feet. They brush the dirt from your back and instead of poking fun they offer a quick crash course on horse riding. It’s probably beyond helpful, but their voices are washed out by the roar of shame and your pounding pulse. You mutter your thanks.

You don’t argue with Thorin when he decides that your single rider pony privileges be revoked.

After Fíli and Kíli all but launch into a petty squabble on who should get to share their saddle with you, you end up being hoisted onto Bofur’s pony. The princes groan in disappointment. Orson sends you a wink and affectionately pats the flank of your pony. He cocks a brow and levels a serious stare at the two sulking princes. “Take care o’ her, lads.”

They readily agree.

“I suppose I’m the lucky lad, eh?” Bofur says, turning to look at you over his shoulder with a cheeky grin.

Rattled by the earlier incident, your hands harpoon around Bofur’s belt while your teeth clench so hard it makes your jaw ache. Your stomach drops as the pony shifts its weight. “Just don’t let me fall.”

Bofur hums his jovial assurance and pats the top of your hand. “You can trust me, little Cricket! We’ll make a fine horseman out o’ you—just you wait.”

Your face scrunches. “I’m never going to emotionally recover from this.”

“I think it was a very graceful attempt,” Kíli pipes up.

“Yes,” you hear Glóin add in. “For an orc!”

You shrivel into yourself as a fierce heat collects under your cheeks.

You hate ponies.

^*^*^*^

He can still catch them—he’s sure of it!

The hearth was still warm when Bilbo awoke. He had found a new contract innocently resting over the library table. Definitely your doing. Bilbo Baggins is not known as a spontaneous hobbit. He enjoys an exact plan that hardly differs from what he has penciled in and nothing more. He can’t stay what moves him to take the contract—nor the split second decision to rush to back his bags.

He’s going on an adventure and there’s nothing that can stop him.

Bilbo sprints through Hobbiton, past bewildered neighbors, and over pesky fences. He doesn’t stop running—not even for Farmer Maggot and his two sons that yell their greetings and something about his cousin. Through the wheat fields and into a grove of trees is when he first spots the ponies.

“Wait!” He cries. “Wait!”

The entire party stops, startled and surprised with his arrival. He can’t help the pride that swells in his chest from catching up to them—or maybe it’s just his lungs, heaving for air. Bilbo happily hands the battered contract over to Balin. “I signed it.”

Balin raises a bushy brow and extracts a monocle. He looks over the signature and nods. “Everything appears to be in order. Welcome, master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

A few cheers follow the announcement. Even Cricket joins in with a wide grin. “

“Give him a pony,” Thorin orders.

Absolutely not.

Bilbo wags his finger. “No, no, no, no. That…that won’t be necessary. Thank you. I’m sure I can keep up on foot. Yeah, I…I’ve done my fair share of walking holidays, you know? Even got as far as Frog Morton once—“

He’s saddled onto a pony and he finds it to be just as he expects it to.

Miserable.

He takes some comfort that Cricket doesn’t fare any better. She’s terrified—it’s written all over her face and in the way she clenches Bofur’s belt so firmly, her knuckles are turning white. Yet after a little while she musters up enough courage to spare him a glance.

“What convinced you?” Cricket asks. It’s asked innocently to the untrained ear, but both she and Bilbo knew it was anything but.

He could tell her the truth—tell his dear cousin how unequivocally frightened he is that something could endanger her life. Or he could tell her that running off with a band of male dwarves without a chaperone was simply heinous. Or that he would miss seeing her face and spirited soul that livens every room she enters. The deep, and profound fear of being left on his own with nothing but a memory of her, tainted by ugly words and regret. Too many shadows and gloomy corners of his thoughts that multiplied by the minute the longer he stared at the unsigned contract she slipped beneath his door. Bilbo could provide a plethora of reasons, but instead he settles for cowardice.

He swallows and reaches into his pockets, presenting a familiar little object in his soft palms. A gift from her mother. “You forgot your hairbrush.”

Cricket’s eyes drop to his hands. Her face softens, lips quirking into a gentle smile. “Thank you.”

“I made a promise, you know,” Bilbo adds, “and I intend to keep it.”

She ducks her chin and studies a stray thread on the cuff of her sleeve. “Oh, yes. That.”

He wants to say more but it isn’t the time nor place—and to get her to speak on matters of the heart, Bilbo would need to back her into a corner.

“Come on, Nori! Pay up!” A small sack of coins whizzes by his ear.

Bilbo looks at Gandalf who rides on his right for answers. “What’s that about?”

“Oh, they took wagers on whether or not you’d turn up,” the wizard supplies. “Most of them bet that you wouldn’t.”

He’s not sure if he should be offended. He sniffs. “And what did you think?”

Gandalf hums, purses his lips and pretends to consider his answer. “Ah,well—“ He catches a sack of coin and bounces it in his palm. "My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second.”

He catches Cricket thumbing a couple coins into Bofur’s hand in his peripheral. Bilbo frowns. Before the sharp sting of his cousin betting against him, a mighty sneeze cuts through his thoughts

“Oh, it’s this horse hair. I’m having a reaction.” Out of habit his hand reaches for his handkerchief. His heart seizes. “My handkerchief!”

Cricket sighs in irritation. “Not this again.”

“We must turn around!” Bilbo announces, lost without the square of fabric. No one heeds his request.

“You’ll have to manage without pocket handkerchiefs, and a good many other things, Bilbo Baggins, before we reach our journey’s end,” Gandalf lectures. “You were born to the rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire. But home is now behind you. The world is ahead.”

He doesn’t much like that idea.

A sudden bout of nausea forms in the pit of his stomach.

“Bilbo?”

“Yes, Cricket?” He manages to squeak out.

She bites her lip. Her words are quiet, near inaudible. “I’m glad you’re here.”

And at the end of it all, despite parting from his beloved handkerchiefs, Bilbo is too.

^*^*^*^

You arrive in Bree at sundown. Your first impression of the world of Men is, well, horrific.

Dirty and horrific.

Everything is a dark swatch of looming scenery and architecture made in mind for creatures far bigger than dwarves or hobbits. Mud cakes your skin up to your shins, staining the hem of your trousers that will take ages to wash out. Rough shouting and the rumble of passing horses with their carts and carriages, pierce your delicate ears. Big folk glare down at your party with suspicious and judging eyes. You’re not used to this sort of jarring noise and hectic chaos that surrounds you. You grab Bilbo’s hand.

And it’s a good thing too—

You aren’t paying attention to the road. A wheel, twice your size, barrels past you and if it weren’t for Bilbo yanking you back, you wouldn’t have any toes or feet left. The Company eventually comes to rest at the Prancing Pony—managed by a massive and rotund character of a man. Rosy cheeks and a balding head—Barliman Butterbur is nice enough to offer you accommodations in exchange for coin.

The dwarves, you, and Bilbo are set up with a table that inhabits the back corner of the inn. It’s a tight squeeze to fit all fifteen of you. You need to sit shoulder to shoulder and risk elbowing someones drink or food every time someone so much as breathes. You’re happy to follow after a few of the dwarves upstairs to inspect the lodgings and load the gear from the ponies there.

Not surprising that they forget you upstairs. You’ll have to find your own way back in this unfamiliar inn. It’ll be easy enough…right?

It’s not.

The moment you step foot off of the last stair, you’re caught in the swarm of Big Folk who couldn’t care less for those smaller than them. Not only that—you’re too damn short to see above the tables to gage the distance between you and your companions.

You narrowly dodge a careless elbow that’s thrown your way as you pass a table. The impartial wall of gruff looking men, shoo you away as if you were a pest caught under the heel of their boot, pushing you farther and father away from the Company. There’s too many bodies, hot and stifling that amass together to create an impermeable wall. There’s no body of water here and yet, you feel like you’re drowning.

You loose your sense of direction. Someone steps on your toes. Panic settles in your chest like a caged canary, beating its tiny wings against the ivory bars in a futile attempt of escape. All it does is stain it red with desperation. Your shoulder collides with a stranger’s hip, forcing you to overcorrect and launch forward. An outstretched boot snags your foot and there’s no stopping the oncoming fall. Your eyes shut out of instinct, hands outstretched to catch your fall—it never comes.

Rough hands catch your elbows. You’re then swept close by that same hand slotting itself in the dip of you spine, driven into a chest covered by familiar brigandine mail. You’re spun out of reach from certain doom. Your pulse roars in your ears as your brain plays catchup—Valar you feel ill.

You bite your lip and concentrate on the outline of your fingers resting over your savior’s chest. The heavy warmth of his hand has yet to move—you’re thankful for the anchor. A saving grace to all this madness thrust violently and suddenly onto your shoulders. Fuck.

“The world of Men is not made for the likes of you and me, Lady Cricket,” Thorin says, lips pressed close to your ear to battle the discordant ambiance of the tavern. Even with the sweltering heat, you suppress a shiver. “It would be wise of you to stay close.”

You ball your fists. His hand falls away.

“And if I want a drink?” You challenge, wetting your trembling bottom lip. Weakness is not a word you’re familiar with and you’re not going to learn it now. Not in front of a dwarven king who doubts every breath you take. “What then?”

What passes behind Thorin’s eyes is unfamiliar and unreadable. His gaze drifts in the direction of his men, leaving a brief window of time to examine the sharpened angles of his profile. While the air of nobility practically drips off his person, there’s another layer to it all. A certain somberness you’re privy to. Ghosts that plague the mind—twisting and clawing until all that remains of you is the fights of your past and the demons your wrestle against. His eyes return to you. You’re not sure you want to look back. “Then I would ask of you to find one of the Company so that they may escort you.”

“Are you offering to escort me, Master Dwarf?” You ask. You hope he agrees. You’re not ready to stake off on your own here. If he leaves, you figure that you could just stay here all night, trapped against the wall until another brave soul comes to your rescue.

His shoulders bounce with an amused huff. “If you wish it.”

“I’m not keen on being trampled again,” you admit. “And you seem to have an easy enough time parting the crowds.”

He dips his head. “That tends to happen when you are taller.”

You falter. The ends of his mouth quirk as playfulness sparks in his eyes. Bastard. “You’ll regret saying that.”

“I’m sure of it.”

It’s downright unfair how dazzling the king’s smile is. Like a shadow, it appears for a moment and disappears just as quick. You swallow. “I-I’m going to go get a drink now.”

Just like he promised, he follows.

#the hobbit #the hobbit reader insert #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin oakenshield #thorins company #the company of thorin oakenshield #the company x reader #bilbo #fili x reader #kili x reader #fili #kili #bilbo baggins #gandalf #lord of the rings

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shirtlessfelix · 3 years

Note

Not sure if there's a limit to the number of characters we request, so I'm gonna stick with Leon, Quentin, Dwight, & Jeff. So may I get some headcanons with an s/o who easily dozes off when they receive affection?

I've never set a hard limit but the most anyone has asked for in one post is 4, so I guess it's a good number lol. You may absolutely get some of those, I hope you like 'em! :)

Drowsy with Love S/O

<200 words each

Dwight: He thinks it's cute when he notices his partner's eyes struggling to stay open when they're cuddling and his hand is rubbing the back of their neck. "You falling asleep on me?" he'll ask teasingly, a quiet laugh following them shielding their eyes from any light. Everything they do is adorable to him, and he'll let them know it with peppered kisses across their forehead and their cheek, and maybe one on their lips if they let him.

Dwight will keep soothing them in their slumber, whether it be fiddling with their hair through his fingers or rubbing their back, absentmindedly following lines in their clothes over and over and over... He's too smitten with them to look anywhere else but their face while they sleep, and it's all admiration going through his head: how peaceful they look and how much he wishes they could be together like this all the time, whether they're awake or dozing off again.

Jeff: After some time, he gets used to his partner's sleepy habits and wonders if there are other times when they also fall asleep... He'll let them lay down on his lap if they want to, or snuggle with them so they're more comfortable than just leaning on his shoulder or against something else. They'll stay awake for a little while longer, happily accepting each and every kiss he offers up, nose-rubbing or otherwise. Jeff might get carried away and trail kisses down the front of their neck, but by then they'll already be drifting off into a dreamland filled with him anyway.

They'll grab his hand out of instinct at some point and refuse to let go, and Jeff doesn't want them to let go either. He'll rub his thumb against their hand or imagine something being painted onto their fingers, tracing over them with his own, so soothing that they'll stay asleep even longer. When they wake up, Jeff will be there with gleaming eyes to greet them. "Good morning," he'll joke, and they'll get up before they fall asleep again.

Leon: The first time this happens, he'll think he's bored them to death with his loving and not say much as they position themself comfortably against him somehow, maybe holding his arm or wrapping their arms around his torso. He won't want to bother them while they're sleeping, but he'll hold them anywhere he can so they're as comfortable as they can be; a hand on their leg or their waist, their hand...

Leon might try to lay down beside them without stirring them too much, then look at their tired features with a smile just barely tugging on his lips. He'll nuzzle up close and press his forehead to theirs, or spoon them gently and close his eyes, still loving on them until he falls asleep too, and his warmth will still make them that much more comfortable. If his partner wakes up before he does, they'll keep snuggling him until he opens his eyes again, at which point they'll apologize and thank him for the nap anyway.

Quentin: His affection comes in the form of sweet, quiet words in their ear that make them shudder and close their eyes on instinct, eventually leading into a state of half-sleep that he just drags on. A hand riding up their arm, a kiss on the side of their neck as he closes his eyes and relaxes into them, it's no time at all before they fall asleep in his lap and reap an even more comforting few minutes.

Quentin will hum any note that begs to be hummed, whether they turn out to be a song or not, and they'll be soothing against his partner's cheek or wherever he's buried his nose. He likes to be close to them, to be touching them somewhere, and his hands are no different as he keeps them tightly clasped to theirs. He'll probably keep talking when they go to sleep, if for no other reason than to keep himself occupied, but his words will no doubt fluster them when they're awake again.

#sffic #anon #req #hc #dbd #dead by daylight #dbd fanfic #dead by daylight fanfic #dbd dwight #dwight fairfield #dbd jeff #jeff johansen #dbd leon #leon s kennedy #dbd quentin #quentin smith #fluff

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animeyanderelover · 4 years

Note

Yandere Juuzou and promp 105 plz

More Juuzou Suzuya coming your way😉.

Warnings: Yandere themes, creepy behavior, stalking, delusional thinking

Prompt 105: “I watched you sleeping the whole night ‘til morning and I’m still not tired of it.”

Many still questioned how Juuzou had been able to get himself such a lovely human like you. You were everything he wasn’t. You were more quiet, reserved, polite and shy, being always pretty nervous when it came to talking to other persons. The first time you had been introduced to his co-workers, they all had looked at you as if you were some sort of alien. You guessed it must have looked quite ridiculous to them, having a wide-grinning Juuzou holding your hand and you trying to hide behind him. Shinohara had been the first one who had snapped out of his shock and had welcomed you friendly. If you remembered right he was what other persons would call a friend of Juuzou. Juuzou liked him, often telling you that Shinohara was the only person he had ever gotten along with and who hadn’t treated him strangely, next to you of course. And it had been obvious that Shinohara had been glad that Juuzou had you, treating you with other respect and also asking you some polite questions. The first question had been the one everyone who had seen the two of you together had asked you so far. It was always the same. How had you two met each other? And when had you two become a couple? It was the question you had never found an answer to yourself. It...It had just happened. One day that guy had just started hanging out with you, holding your hands, kissing you and inviting himself over in your house.

Protesting wasn’t useful against him and you guessed at one point you had come to accept that you and him were together. You didn’t hate him after all, if you were completely honest you probably even liked him. You didn’t know, it was probably because his personality was always so energetic and peculiar, something like opposite attract. And he had never really harmed you before. The only thing you had to deal with was his more creepy behavior, his lovesickness. If you could manage to live with that, you would be able to live a normal life. But that was the point where Juuzou gave you a hard time. Because he never intended to be this way, but he was nearly 99% of the time too much to handle and didn’t even apologize. He didn’t saw the problem and you doubted he would ever be able to see it.

That made moments like this hard for you, especially that early. Because the first thing you had seen as soon as you had opened your eyes had been Juuzou, laying with a lovingly look in his eyes at you. “Morning sugar!” “Morning.”, you mumbled tiredly burying yourself deeper into your pillow to save the warmth surrounding you. You were still with one foot in your dreamland, that was probably the reason why you didn’t realize it at first. “...!” You hadn’t let Juuzou inside your house yesterday, let alone even known he had come over! How long exactly had he been here? And how? Oh god, hopefully he didn’t break the door again! Or had he used the keys? And why had he even come over in the first place? You slowly sat up, not feeling very good knowing that he had been laying next to you this whole time without you knowing. Juuzou was touchy and you dearly hoped he hadn’t overstepped personal boundaries. “U-umm...Juuzou?” “Yes? What is it (y/n)?”, he instantly beamed, clearly excited that you were now awake and paying attention to him. “H-how did you get inside? You didn’t break the door again, right?” Shouldn’t you have heard it if he should have broken the door? Or were you that deep of a sleeper? “Oh, don’t worry your little head over that. You seemed upset the last time I broke it. I used these.” He quickly pulled keys, your extra keys, out of his pocket, twirling them around on his index finger. You decided to not ask how he had gotten them in the first place, knowing he wouldn’t give you a clear answer. You suspected he had stolen them one time before given the fact that he was talented when it came to this.

“Can I...have them back?”, you asked carefully, extending your hands in fruitless hope that he would give you the keys back. But of course you shouldn’t have expected anything, Juuzou tilting his head slightly before quickly putting the keys back into his pocket. “No. I need them. I need to check after all that you’re fine. If I would give them back I would have to resort to breaking the lock again.” You pulled your hand back, feeling stupid for even asking. Of course he wouldn’t return them. You guessed if it came down to it, letting him keep the keys was still better than having him break into your house by force even after he had so far always fixed what he had broken. But you still had one question left and you did notice that he had dark rings under his eyes, making you suspect the worst. Juuzou had never been a heavy sleeper in the first place, often staying up until the sun was already about to rise again. At least he had enough respect to let you get your needed dose of sleep and both of you had surprisingly discovered that by cuddling with you, he seemed to get a few hours of sleep. There were a few tricks that led him to dozing away from time to time which you often used against him, simply to get him to calm down since he was always very hyper and bouncy. You had figured out that by stroking his hair, he seemed to come down from his high emotions, getting more and more drowsy. And you could do it quite often since Juuzou loved when you have him affection. He seemed rather fine that you often didn’t express your love like he did with a heavy amount of affection and cuddles, but if you actually gave him some, he clinged onto it like it was the last piece of candy on earth.

“Juuzou, just how long have you been here?” You found yourself sounding genuinely upset, not only because he had once again busted your private bubble. By now you felt sad that you felt used to it. But also because you didn’t like it, seeing him abiding his well-being like this without even caring about it at all. Why did his grin seemed to only grow wider after hearing your question? “I watched you sleeping the whole night ‘til morning and I’m still not tired of it.” You stared completely flabbergasted at him. The whole night? It was 9 am in the morning and you had went yesterday early into bed due to a tiring day of work. How long had you slept? About 12 hours? And when exactly had he gotten his last deserved break and slept for a bit? As you knew him it had probably be a few days. Should you perhaps..? You guessed you could throw a tantrum right now about his stalkerish tendencies, you could complain and yell all you wanted. But two things were holding you back. First of all, you weren’t this type of person who expressed their feelings in a very violent way, being more of a soft spoken person. The second reason was because you knew too well that it wouldn’t get through his head at all. You knew Juuzou was more “special” than most others, but he was also only human and needed his sleep as well. At least a bit, you didn’t want him to sleep 12 hours, but just a few hours a day. That’s all you wanted.

And you knew that if you would ask, he wouldn’t reject. He could never. “Juuzou...” He shuffled closer to you, showing you that he was listening. “...Do you want to cuddle with me?” You sounded incredibly sheepish right now, feeling blood rushing to your face and leading to your cheeks heating up. Juuzou on the other hand looked for a split second taken back, it was rare that you were the one asking for such a thing. But very quickly to his cheeks rose a blush as well, his face quite literally beaming happiness. Without a waste he quickly moved closer to you, placing himself so that his head was placed against your chest and his arms around your hip. He liked this position because then you always caressed his hair which was what he wanted in this moment. “Did you know that you snore slightly every 55 seconds?”, he almost purred into your chest, enjoying the feeling of your fingers through his strands of hair. “I what?...No, I didn’t.” He seemed to have watched you very intensely if he even knew the exact amount of seconds, causing you to gulp slightly, starting to feel a bit creeped out. “And did you also know that you-“ Before he could ruin the atmosphere you were currently trying to maintain, you quickly interrupted him. “Juuzou!”

#yandere tokyo ghoul #yandere juuzou suzuya #yandere juuzou

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straymackerel · 4 years

Note

Hello hello!! Youre writing style is super beautiful and you are a treasure to the BSD community! It would be really awesome if you could do some headcanons with Dazai and Chuuya (separate) with s/o's that work with them at the ADA/PM? It would be cool if they had like high and active positions at each job and maybe even with Chuuya his s/o is an exec.

I really hope this isn't too much, and if it is youre always welcomed to, y'know, not do it lol. - 🦢

“and they were coworkers”

➽─{ahhg—heavy handed with the praise aren’t we? i guess i could get used to that 😚 in dazai’s case i made y/n another detective}─❥

• pawns his work off to virtually everyone but you.

• sometimes he slips your own papers into other people’s piles despite the amount of times you’ve explicitly told him not to.

• you go on cafe dates all. of. the. time. he pretends to bring along work to do at the uzumaki, but all he does is flirt with you once you’re actually there.

• you eventually branch off to more private settings, making it your goal to try out every cafe in the city on your lunch break.

• pda around the office is a must.

• dazai won’t insist on anything extreme, but if he can’t even sling his arm around you or give you a quick peck on the cheek, then what good is working at the same place?

• fukuzawa tries not to pair you up on regular cases because of how… distracted dazai can get around his muse

• but in more serious instances, the two of you are expected to have each other’s backs.

• besides ranpo, you’re the only one who can really keep up with dazai’s pace. (furthermore, you’re the only one who can deal with his antics.)

• that doesn’t, however, prevent the seating arrangement from placing you on opposite sides of the office...

• nothing, and i repeat, nothing would ever get done if you sat next to each other 💔

• he’s still plenty distracting from his faraway vantage point, sending notes and love letters via paper airplane passes throughout the day

• it’s honestly a blessing that you’re there in the room with him. with his beloved only a couple dozen steps away, he’s constantly reminded that he has something to live for.

• he’s also glad that he can keep you safe with his own two hands. he wouldn’t put it past the ada’s enemies to abduct you and take you hostage if you were but a civilian.

• and in your case, if you truly want to understand dazai, the best place to do so is at his job. it’s here where his abilities are utilized at their fullest—here where he lives up to his capabilities.

• you absolute power couple. you dastardly dynamic duo you—

• first things first: being execs together is some heavy lifting, no two ways about it.

• unfortunately, your schedules don’t align often, so you can give up on the idea of lunch dates.

• sometimes it feels like you’re always exhausted, always unwinding off of work. much of the time you spend together ends up being warm and tipsy and drowsy

• ...with the exception of board meetings as a rule, of course. you have to be wide awake for your job, though you’ll be squeezing each other’s hands under the table to get through it

• chuuya’s dedication and loyalty to his work is downright infectious. expect to welcome overtime as much as he does…

• though you often have to peel him away from headquarters. some nights when it’s hours past a normal dinner time and neither of you have eaten, you have to be the voice of reason. (or torment...)

• “you’ll never grow any taller if you never get any sleep~” you coo into his ear, to which he suddenly bolts straight out of his chair

• “what do you think i am, twelve years old??”

• late night suppers though >>>

• takeout and delivery are staples, but once in a while he’ll cook if you’ll clean

• pair that with a nightcap and you’ll be on your way to dreamland in no time, the twinkling of city lights just outside the window of your high-rise suite

• once in a blue moon, when the day is going a little slow, the two of you have a few minutes to meet up during work hours

• you take to your “secret meeting place”—in other words, the rooftop of the main building. (in all fairness, access is somewhat restricted.)

• he’ll dangle his legs over the edge and ask you to join him. you aren’t obligated to, but keep in mind, he’ll catch you if you fall

• hectic as it is, being able to work alongside you is a dream for chuuya. he would undoubtedly have it no other way; two things he adores in the same place? unreal 💛

general tags. (info) @skateme2yokohama @shozaii @suehiro @tsukkiscookies

#bsd x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd headcanons #dazai headcanons #tara goes uwu #🦢 anon

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

Text

Me and my thots

Read on ao3

Billy didn’t black out when the first limb clamped onto his side.

He figured he would.

Figured the searing pain would cause his brain to short.

But it didn’t.

He didn’t even drop when the next one hit, chomping into his other side.

He figures the adrenaline was keeping him going.

And probably the other-worldly strength from whatever bits of the creature was left in him.

All he knows is that the final one pierced his chest.

And he didn’t lose consciousness.

Not as he fell.

Not as Max hovered over him.

Not as he heard shouts, and felt hands pressing into his wounds.

He woke with a start.

He shook the dream out of his head, rolling to press both fists into his eyes.

He slid out from under the thick duvet, pulling it up and over the sleeping form of the person next to him.

Like he did every morning.

He scratched his chest, making his way over to their sunny little kitchen, getting the coffee going.

It’s been a while since he’s dreamed about the Mind Flayer.

In his thirty years since that night at the mall, he’s gotten enough therapy to break most of it down, to accept what happened to him, what he was forced without question to do.

He startled as arms slipped around his waist.

“You okay?”

Steve’s voice was sleep groggy, his chin hooked over Billy’s shoulder.

“Yeah, Pretty Boy. I’m alright.”

Steve placed his hand over the faded scar on Billy’s chest, kissing his shoulder blade once.

Billy turned to look at him, taking in the sparse grey hairs Steve liked to complain about, the soft lines near his eyes.

Billy sucked in a gasp of air when he woke, spluttering as his lungs burned.

He was in the hospital, his heart monitor going haywire.

Nurses flooded the room, but Billy paid them no mind, his eyes locking on the big brown ones.

Steve had pushed himself against the wall, giving the nurses room to check him over.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since the mall, just knows hat Steve’s face looks hurt, old bruises turning yellow and green as they healed.

He was stabilized, and he felt more steady. His breathing still hurt, but he was doing it on his own.

The few nurses made their way out once again.

“Jesus, Hargrove. Scared me half to death.” Steve didn’t sound scared. He sounded relieved. “I was almost asleep and then you took this giant breath, Christ.”

Steve’s hands were shaking as he lowered himself into a plastic chair facing Billy’s bed.

“Sorry.”

Billy’s voice was hoarse, and it hurt to talk.

“How long-?”

“A few weeks.” Then Steve’s face got hurt that same night.

It was odd looking at him.

He looked so young, not the face dream Billy was used to, the face of a grown man.

“Hargrove, you okay?”

And echo of that dream.

And boy did that hurt, the realization that it was a dream.

His idyllic life with Steve.

Nothing but his subconscious. Probably creating something to keep him calm while his body healed in a coma.

“Why you here?” Speaking still burned his throat. He wished he had some water.

Maybe even tea.

Steve usually makes him a nice chamomile tea when he’s sick. Puts some fresh lemon juice and honey in there. They have a lemon tea in the backyard.

He shook himself.

That was just a dream.

“Been worried about you, man.” Steve wasn’t looking at him.

Steve has trouble with eye contact.

Years spent with a father that forced it only to berate Steve for-

What the fuck. His daydream kept bleeding over, giving him all this nonsense about the dream version of Steve he had conjured up.

“Don’t know why.”

Steve looked at him then.

“Really pulled some shit, didn’t I?”

“That doesn’t mean you, you deserve to die, or something. You weren’t in control.”

“Was that night I beat your face in.”

Steve looked away again.

“Water under the bridge.”

Steve once told him he doesn’t know what that expression means, just that he’s heard people use it in situations like this.

“You don’t even know what that means.” Billy couldn’t stop himself.

He just blurted it out.

And Steve gave him a funny look.

Because of course he does. Because this Steve, this real Steve is different than the coma fantasy one Billy conjured up.

“Well, no. But people usually say it like that, don’t they?”

And Billy just stared at him.

And then his vision went hazy around the edges, and he slipped back into darkness.

“Which one?”

Steve was holding up two pairs of swim trunks. Billy was just staring at his ass.

“You know I like those little green ones.”

Steve threw him a look over his shoulder.

“I don’t think the green ones even fit anymore.”

Steve sometimes got self conscious about himself. His thighs had thickened up considerably, his ass getting plumper too. And his belly was soft, doughy, and perfect for squishing.

But the green shorts fit, even though they were tight.

And Billy loved his older body, loved when Steve put on some extra fluff. A chubby Steve meant a happy Steve. And Billy would know.

You learn a lot about a person in thirty-some years.

Steve was dressed now, shouldering a bag.

“Beach time?” His eyes were bright.

“Beach time.”

They held hands as they walked.

The air smelled like ocean spray.

The beach was close to their little house, and they found their usual spot right away, far from any other beach patrons.

“Hargrove!”

Billy came to with a start, back in the cold hospital room, back with a younger Steve.

What the fuck was going on?

“Sorry, you kinda passed out. I thought you were slipping back under, or something.”

Steve looked sheepish.

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t. Not totally.

Because Billy wanted to live in that fucking daydream for the rest of his goddamn life.

“Sorry, I should let you sleep. I mean you’re probably exhausted.” Steve stood up, gathering the few things he had with him, a water bottle, and empty coffee cup, and a book. An old worn out copy of The Outsiders.

That’s dream Steve’s favorite book. He reads it once every year. He said it was the first book he ever read in class that actually gripped him. The only one he actually took the time to push through his rampant dyslexia to read and understand.

He won’t be diagnosed dyslexic until he’s 23. He’ll feel really vindicated and Billy will take him out for a fancy dinner. They’ll go skinny dipping in the ocean after and Steve will whine the whole time.

Billy hadn’t realized he had been staring at Steve the whole time that all ran through his brain, not until Steve snapped his fingers in front of him.

“Billy!”

“Yeah, what? Sorry.”

“Are you okay? Should I get a nurse?”

“No, I just-” he tried to scrub a hand down his face, found his muscles screamed out at the movement of his muscles after who knows how long in that bed.

It didn’t matter anyway, as his hands were wrapped up in a mitten of bandages.

“Was havin’ a good dream.”

“What was it about?”

Billy couldn’t look at Steve. Couldn’t look at those big brown eyes, couldn’t search for the specks of gold, the streaks of green that he knows are there.

“Future. Dream future, I guess.”

“Do you-” Steve hesitated, and Billy finally looked at him, watched as he reached up to tug on a lock of hair near the crown of his head. A nervous tick he’s had since he was a kid. “Do you wanna share?”

“California. Little house by the beach. Slice of Heaven, really.”

“A wife?”

“Been married for a few years.”

“She pretty?”

“The prettiest.”

Steve smiled at him softly.

“Sorry you had to wake up to me, then.”

And that? That made Billy wanna tear out his own damn hair. Made him wanna pull Steve to lay on top of him the way they both like, pet through Steve’s hair, tell him how goddamn perfect you are, Sugar.

“It’s okay. Prefer your company.”

“I guess I’m alright if the alternative is being alone.”

“Cut that out.”

Steve blinked at him.

“We’ve been talking like, five minutes and all you’ve done is apologize and talk shit on yourself.”

“Sorry, I- it’s just a habit, I guess.” He was back to playing with his hair. Being a little rougher, tugging on the lock between his fingers a bit. Billy sighed as well as he could with his burning lungs.

“Just, I like it that you’re here, okay? I’d tell you to beat it if I wanted you gone.”

And Steve smiled at him.

One of his six real smiles, not one of the eleven fake ones.

Billy can tell.

Because the real ones make his nose scrunch a bit. They make his eyes go bright and his shoulders bunch up.

And he must’ve fallen back into that dream again, because suddenly he was looking at his Steve, his grown up Steve, giving him that exact same real smile as Billy ran wet fingers over his skin.

And he pulled Steve close to him in the shower, mouthing at the skin of his neck.

And if this was a dream, he was going to burn all of this into his memory.

The way Steve’s skin tastes, the way he gasps when Billy nibbles at his ear. The way Billy feels buried deep inside him, in the soft bed that they share, the one that took months to buy because Steve is weirdly picky about bedframes for no discernible reason.

And just as he was watching Steve’s face crumple, as he was trying to memorize the exact noises he makes as he cums, he was jolted out of his dream by the real Steve, fucking sneezing.

“Sorry.” He looked distressed. “You were like, really asleep and I, I tried to hold it back.”

“’S okay. Know you got that dust thing.”

Billy was drowsy. He felt like he was inches underwater, everything moving slowly around him. Almost like the world was a little muffled.

Turns out his last dose of pain meds had been administered while he was out.

“Wait, what dust thing?”

“Got that. You know. You’re allergic to dust. And peanuts. And cashews. And-the green ones.”

“Pistachios?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know that?”

“You told me. Nearly fuckin’ killed you first time we really made out. I had just eaten a PB and J. Sent you into anaphylaxis.”

Billy felt himself drifting, that perfect dreamland tugging him back.

And then there was a cold hand on his arm, shaking him gently.

“Billy, Billy don’t fall asleep. You gotta, Billy what the fuck? We haven’t made out. We, how do you know what I’m allergic to?”

But Billy was swallowed up by sleep once again.

He was laying next to Steve, stretched out on their bed, Steve’s head resting on his shoulder.

“Today was nice. Haven’t had a day like that in such a long time.”

“We should do it more often, then. Call outta work and hang out at the beach all day.”

Steve rolled a bit to glare playfully at Billy.

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of setting our own hours, Mr. Boss Man.”

“Billy!”

And he was back, back to staring at the pale nervous face of Young Steve.

“Billy, you’re scaring me.”

Sunlight was beginning to haze through the meager window at the end of the hospital room. Billy hadn’t had any idea of time since he got here.

Steve looked like shit, like he hadn’t slept all night.

“Billy, I don’t know if you remember, everything you said before you fell asleep but-”

“I remember.”

Steve furrowed his brows.

“How do you know that? About, about my allergies. And yesterday, you said, you said I didn’t know what water under the bridge meant. And you said, that we m-made out.”

Billy sighed again, his lungs protesting the effort.

“My dream. The future. You’re the person. My person. And now it’s like, whatever Dream Billy knows about Dream Steve I know. And I figured I just, like, made all that shit up.”

Steve was studying his face.

“Okay, then let’s see if you’ve just had some lucky guesses. Tell me what else you know, and maybe it’s all wrong.”

And Billy didn’t really like the way Steve looked like he hoped is was all wrong. Like he didn’t wanna be tied to Billy in this way.

Billy narrowed his eyes.

“When you were fourteen you watched A Streetcar Named Desire with your mom and you credit Marlon Brando as your queer awakening.”

Steve’s eyes went wide, his mouth trembling.

“Your dad has smacked you once in your life, and it’s when you got the rejection letter from Indiana State. You hid the letter from him because you knew he’d be mad, but he found it and hit you and didn’t talk to you for nearly a month.”

Steve’s eyes were shining now.

“Your mom used to always talk about how much she wished you guys could have a better garden, but because it gets so cold here, she can’t grow anything. The house we have in the daydream has like, a huge fucking garden in it, by the way. I hate gardening but you love it.”

Steve stood abruptly, pacing the length of the room in front of Billy’s bed. Billy just kept going.

It was like everything was ready to burst out of him. To prove that he knows Steve, that he loves Steve. Even if this Steve is somehow different to Dream Steve.

“You go fucking batshit over corn on the cob, just with a little butter and salt on there. That’s somehow your favorite food. Because you’re the most Midwesterner to ever Midwestern, I guess. Your second favorite food is your grandmother’s lasagna. You keep trying to recreate her recipe and no matter how much I tell you it’s fucking delicious, you always get this little pout going and explain to me about how it’s not quite right. You only started smoking because-”

“That’s, I think that’s enough.”

Steve looked like a strong gust of wind would knock him right over.

“It true.?”

“It’s, it’s all true. In, in detail. I mean the, the letter, and my dad. I swore I was never gonna tell anyone about that.”

“It took you a few years. We were talking about my dad. How he treated me, and you admitted that. How sometimes you think about that one time and it makes you sad because that was my everyday-” Billy cut himself off.

Because fuck.

He forgot that Steve knows jack fucking all about Billy.

Which means Steve was currently giving him that look, that wide-eyed, nostrils flared, mouth tight look that he always did when he was angry on Billy’s behalf.

It was kinda hot.

“Excuse me?”

“Forgot my apparent psychic abilities were limited to just me knowing about you.”

“Billy, did your dad hit you?”

And Billy kinda saw no point in lying anymore.

“All the damn time.”

And Steve was back to pacing.

“Fuck. Fuck. That honestly, wow that explains a lot. I mean, yeah. I get it now. I get it.”

Billy let him mutter to himself.

Steve always does better thinking out loud.

“You know, I was actually fucking nervous to tell you, but now I don’t care. Your dad was one of the flayed.”

“Yeah, I know. Only person I never felt guilty about.”

“You’re handling this, like, scary well.”

“Technically, I’ve had thirty years of therapy. All this has been processed already.”

“Wait, your little dream is thirty years in the future?”

“About.”

“So we’re, like, fifty?”

“About.”

“How do I look?”

Billy barked a laugh, regretting it almost immediately as his whole body screamed in protest. He wheezed a few times before he felt like he could speak again.

“I think you’re hot, but you don’t handle aging well.”

“Oh, God. What’s the damage?”

“Not telling. You’re just gonna spend the next thirty years stressing more than you already would. But lemme tell you, first time you found a grey hair? That was the funniest day of my damn life. It was like being in a soap opera. You found it and then called our lawyer to begin drawing up a will. And you kept saying how you probably only have a few god years left in you. It was hilarious.”

“Glad to know you laugh at my pain.”

“It’s one grey hair. Plus you maintain good health, don’t worry. You’ve got plenty of time to whine over grey hairs.”

“At least I don’t go bald.”

“Nah. Full head of natural hair. Not even receding.”

Steve brushed a hand through his hair, dropping heavily back into the seat next to Billy’s bed.

“Man, this is too trippy. Like, from my end, we’re not even close, you know? But to you, we’ve been together for decades. That’s fucking wild.”

“Imagine how I feel. Am I some kind of psychic now, or is this all just fucking delusion?”

“I mean, you know too much shit about me for everything to be, like, a figment of your imagination. But what happens now? Like, if we don’t live out the future just like your daydream, is the world gonna fall apart? Or is that an alternate dimension? Like, if the Upside Down exists, there’s gotta be other worlds too. Is that one of them and maybe because you were infected by the Mind Flayer you have like, a link between both worlds?” Steve’s brows were furrowed, his eyes darting all over the ceiling as he thought out loud. “And, I mean, I’m confused. I don’t know what my feelings towards you are. Like, don’t get me wrong, there’s been interest since you showed up. But now you’re telling me in some reality, we’ve been together for thirty years, and obviously you know all this deep shit about me, so do we date? When you know me like the back of your hand and I barely know you at all? And are you technically fifty years old? Since you lived out that other life?”

Billy’s head was starting to hurt, and he felt tired again.

“Sugar, you think we could table this?”

Steve’s cheeks went red as his jaw clacked shut.

“Is that what you call me? Sugar?”

“Call you a lot ‘a stuff.”

“Uh, like, like what?”

“Sugar, Pretty Boy, Stevie, Baby, Sweet Thing, Honey. Mac n’ Steve comes to mind.” Steve smiled softly at the last one, his cheeks still warm. “Princess.” Steve opened his mouth, his brows furrowing, the blush spreading down his neck. “No sense in denying how much you like them. Those are tried and true. Thirty years of calling you all that. Plus a few others. But, you know. Those are mostly reserved for the bedroom.”

Steve’s eyes went huge again.

“Fuck. You probably know what I kinks I have better than I do.”

“Oh, we’ve done some exploring in our time.”

Steve bent forward to bury his face in his hands with an Oh, God.

“I don’t think I wanna know.”

“Trust me when I say, you enjoy most of it.”

“Oh, most. That’s great.”

“There’s some trial and error. But we’re good at laughing stuff off, you and me.”

And then Steve’s eyes went wide, and he sat up straight in his chair.

“Wait, you said. When I first asked about the dream, you said, you said married. We got-I mean, we can get married?”

“Yeah. And we like, make out in public and shit. Hold hands everywhere. We’re big saps.”

Steve took a shaky breath.

“So things get, they get better? For people like us?”

“Yeah, they do,” Billy kept his voice soft, felt like sharing this thread of hope should be kept intimate, quiet. And Steve’s face split into a wide grin.

“God, I can’t fucking wait. Just to be, not to be scared all the time. Of everyone finding out this big fucking secret. It just, is.” Steve huffed a laugh. “Can’t believe it. Two guys getting married. Was our wedding nice?”

“We had two. One in the courthouse, one with everybody.”

“Wow. I just can’t believe it-wait, who;s everybody?”

“Your gang of weirdos. Here.”

And Steve lips parted, and he made that cute little face he always does before he cries.

“They all come? Dustin and the Byers and everyone?”

“Robin officiates. Dustin cries really fuckin’ loudly.”

“And they’re all, they’re all fine with it?”

“Yep.”

“God. It’s all, you think it’s too good to be true?”

“Everything I know about you was right. Don’t see a reason why everything else would be wrong.”

“Then, where do we go from here? Like, do we try to follow your memories? Or, forge our own path? Will the fact that we know about this future automatically change it?”

Billy’s heart was doing something funny as Steve wondered aloud to himself about all this.

The fact that he was all in, dead set on having this happy future with Billy, when he didn’t even know Billy.

“Are you sure about this? If we do this? Or some form of it. I mean, I know fucking everything about you. And you don’t know me at all.”

“I know you well enough to see the good in you. I know you well enough to see that under all your big scary toughness you’re caring. And you’re kind. Although you’d probably rather be dead than admit it. And besides. If, in another reality, or in the future, or whatever, I pick you to spend my life with, obviously that means there’s something in you that makes me love you.”

Billy gawked at him.

His face was hot, no doubt bright fucking red.

Because, holy shit was that a lot.

And even Billy, used to Steve’s passionate little tangents after thirty dream-years worth, was taken aback by how quickly Steve was ready to jump into this.

And all of a sudden, Billy wanted nothing more than to reach out to Steve, to pull him close and kiss him until he couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Harrington, I’m gonna need you to come kiss me right the fuck now.”

And Steve smiled, his most sunshiney happy smile, and the chair legs scraped along the tiled floor as he got up, sitting carefully on the edge of Billy’s bed.

He leaned over him, cupping Billy’s cheek in his hand, and pressing the softest of sugar kisses to his lips.

Billy let his eyes flutter closed, and he put one hand bandaged on Steve’s lap, wanting to grasp at him, to pull him even closer.

But Steve wrapped his other hand as gently as possible around the thick bandages, pulling away slowly, studying Billy’s face.

“I never asked. Is this always how our first kiss went?”

And Billy tried to search his memory, tried to find the sweet first kiss.”

“I-I don’t remember.”

Steve sat back.

“What?”

“Our first kiss, from the memories. I don’t remember. It’s like, when I think of our first kiss, all I can think of is that one just now. The other one is gone.”

An ache settled in Billy’s chest at the prospect, at losing a perfect memory with Steve. Losing their first kiss.

“So, when we do something, it like, replaces the old memory?”

“I guess.”

“So, we can build new ones then. And like, you won’t have to go through your whole life twice. We can start closer to square one. Memories that’ll be ours, and not ones that I don’t know.”

And that’s true.

For the pain of every memory gone is a brand new one, one that Steve would remember and be a part of too.

“Then I’m not telling you anymore. If we’re gonna build the memories together, we can’t be working off of some, some blueprint. Things need to be ours.”

“Agreed. We’ll make it up as we go.” Steve hadn’t stopped smiling at Billy.

“Is it weird I’m gonna kinda miss seeing you all old? You’re a silver fucking fox.”

“Yes, Bill. That’s fucking weird.” Steve took his hand and pressed a kiss on his bandages, right over where his palm will be. “Just means you’ll have to watch me go through it all again, though.”

“God, that’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Yeah? That get you going? The thought of me aging?”

“Nah, Pretty Boy. The thought of us aging together.”

“Wow. When you said we’re saps, you really meant it.”

Billy rolled his eyes, sighing as deeply as he could.

“Can it, Harrington. Or I’ll call the nurse and have you escorted out by security.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t. You’d miss me too much.” Steve pressed another kiss to his bandaged hand before sliding off the hospital bed, sitting back in this chair, scooting it as close as possible to the bed. He rested his elbows on the edge of Billy’s bed, and set his chin in his hands. “So, California, huh? When do we head out there?”

“Remember, like, twenty seconds ago when I said I wasn’t gonna say any more?”

Steve pushed his bottom lip out, making his eyes go big as he pouted at Billy.

“That doesn’t work on me anymore, Baby.” That was absolutely a lie. It worked on Billy nearly every time. But what’s he gonna do, reveal his weakness to Steve? Absolutely fucking not.

“C’mon, Bill. Just like, the year.”

“Nope. Not saying a damn thing.”

“Please?” Steve pouted some more.

“So odd to hear you begging outside of the bedroom.” Billy grinned with his tongue between his teeth as Steve dropped his little pouty face, his cheeks going red. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Steve rolled his eyes. Sailing right past pleading and into petulant.

“Fine. I’ll just rot here until you decide to whisk me away to California. Better make it soon or else I may just die of boredom.”

“Jesus, so fucking dramatic. Didn’t we say we’re gonna make our own memories and shit? You can very well ask me to run away with you.”

“Maybe we should like, go on a date first. So I know you’re not a serial killer before I get in a car with you and drive out of state.”

“You’re so weird.” Steve made a snarky face at him. “But you better be planning our first date. I don’t wanna accidentally repeat the other one. Want us to have our own.”

And Billy felt that overwhelming sense of sadness at losing the memories of the other date, the perfect timid experience. Going to the diner and ordering to go, eating while sitting on the hood of Steve’s car overlooking the quarry, talking for hours and hours.

But he’ll get a new memory. One he’ll cherish just as much, maybe even more, knowing that Steve will cherish the memory too.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take out. Maybe just metaphorically speaking, as I don’t think you’re in any shape to be going out.”

“Ha ha, Shithead. Just make it nice. You’ve got a lot to live up to.”

Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he sighed dramatically.

“If our whole relationship is just you holding me to the impossibly high standard of alternate reality me, then I want out now.”

“Relax. The standard’s not that high.”

Steve made an indignant squawking sound.

Billy just laughed.

“I’m kidding. Just, you know. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble meeting the standard. I fell for you once. I can do it again.”

And Steve’s face went all soft again, and he curled forward to rest his head on Billy’s arm.

“Thirty years. Always thought I’d end up divorced. People tend to get sick of me.”

“Not me. Never got sick of you, never gonna get sick of you. You’re stuck with me.”

“Then you’re stuck with me too.”

#yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove

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