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jeonjeonggukenergy · 5 years ago

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Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, smut - college!au

wordcount ~ 8.5k

warnings ~ 18+ only! smut, explicit discussion of kinks/sexual preferences (yay healthy communication), dom/sub undertones during both discussion and sex (dom Jungkook, sub reader), mentions of daddy kink and degradation but both are a no, marking, biting, hair pulling, spanking, they both have a srs pain kink lmao, brief oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, creampie

a/n ~ SO excited to finally have this chapter out for yall! it’s a huge one and i’ve been working on it for quite a while, this includes the first full smut scene for this fic and i would love to know how yall like it or any other feedback. i really enjoyed writing the character development in this chapter too! they’re so cute and whipped for each other already hhhhhh. thank you so much for loving this story so far, i’m really looking forward to writing the rest. hope you enjoy! ❣️

previous: chapter 1 | chapter 2 ~ next: chapter 4 (coming soon!)

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 3 ~ particular, perfect

You concluded your walk home by ditching your shoes at the door, swinging your bag off your shoulders to the floor, and plopping down onto the couch immediately. Pulling all three nearby blankets over yourself, you realized you still weren't quite comfortable. You looked around for a second, puzzled, until an absentminded clutch of your boobs reminded you why. Triumphantly, you reached into a sleeve to untangle your bra and chucked it across the room with a deep stretch of relief. Okay, time to overthink again.

Jungkook? What the fuck?

Wait. A bag of chips on the kitchen counter caught your eye before you could descend any further into panic. The perfect emotional crutch. You clutched it to your chest like a safeguard against your own internal monologue, anxiously shoving handful after handful into your mouth. After about thirty minutes spent motionless on the couch with one hand shoved in the chip bag and the other distractedly scrolling through Twitter, your eyes suddenly widened and your hand froze, dropping your next bite of chips back into the bag. Fuck. You had just eaten nearly an entire family-size bag of chips before what could end up being your first fuck in over a year. Well, maybe this was part of why you hadn't gotten fucked in over a year. No, don't go there. You shoved down your own insecurity, knowing you'd just been too busy for a relationship and honestly, probably still were. But that wasn't going to stop you today.

You shook the chip dust off of your hands and got up to head to the shower, turning up your trashiest throwback playlist of getting-ready bops and resolving to at least shave your legs. Going in with no expectations was probably the best strategy here, but it never hurt to be prepared.

Having cleaned his apartment in record time, Jungkook was now at the gym. After triple-checking that his roommate Jin would be in rehearsal until 10pm at the earliest, he quickly scanned all the common spaces and his bedroom and realized he didn't actually have that much work to do besides politely closing the door to Jin's still-decent-but-somewhat-messier room. To be honest, Jungkook had mainly bought himself the time after class so he could shave just in case. But then he figured if he had to shower, he might as well hit the gym first. So here he was, burning off an unprecedented amount of nervous energy. Settling comfortably into the leg curl machine, he turned his music up and started on a low weight to put in reps until his thighs burned and his head felt pleasantly empty.

After completing his normal leg day rotation and dutifully stretching, Jungkook prepared to head home. He walked out of the gym feeling more energized and centered, barely even flinching when he switched his AirPods off to say bye to the nice girl at the front desk and the action accidentally blasted "Whistle" by Flo Rida from his phone speaker for the whole lobby to hear. As he walked back into his apartment, the kitchen clock let him know it was only 4:30. He had plenty of time. Jungkook hopped straight into the shower, shampooing his hair, shaving everywhere he normally did, and savoring several extra moments to relax his muscles under the hot stream of water. Finally, he toweled off to wrap up in the black t-shirt and cozy matching sweatpants he'd carefully stacked on the counter. Offhandedly singing to himself in the steamy mirror, he checked the time on his phone, deciding he might as well go ahead and text you before he got nervous again and did something stupid. Like chickening out completely.

hey its jk! im ready when u are :) my apt is 344 glencoe rd #1521 (yes its on the 15th floor sry D: )

His charming old-school smileys lit up your phone while you still had a leg perched on the bathtub's edge.

"Fuck!" you reacted. The hiss resounded, thanks to the too-good acoustics of your cramped bathroom. Your razor clattering to the floor, you paused your max-volume 2000s music to check the message, and then the time. Only 5! That wasn't dinnertime yet. Plugging his address into Google Maps, though, you realized it was a 15- to 20-minute drive from yours on the opposite end of campus. Even if you got ready at light-speed, you would get there closer to 5:30. Which was a bit more reasonable. He was being reasonable! You should be ready by now!

You leaned over to pick up your razor and cursed again as the water stream grazed the blouse you'd left on out of laziness. You'd showered this morning, so there was no need to repeat that with your shave, but now you'd have to change outfits completely. Feeling like an idiot, naked from the waist down but now all the way wet, you peeled the shirt over your head slowly to preserve your good hair day and glanced down at the dilemma you'd been facing. The patch of hair between your legs stared back at you like the final boss of stupid societal beauty standards. You'd only shaved down there once, as an anniversary present for your first boyfriend the summer before college, and it had been a fun, smooth novelty for about two hours and then itchy, red, gross-looking, and miserable for about three weeks. Also, it had kind of made you feel like a little girl, which creeped you out when you thought about why guys would prefer it. You'd been debating whether to try it again for the past fifteen minutes, because if there was ever a right time, this was probably it. But now you didn't have time, if you were going to be respectful and not keep Jungkook waiting. Well, this was the real you. He could take it or leave it.

Slathering a quick coat of lotion over your freshly shaved legs, you prepared to get dressed in a soft pastel sweatshirt and a flattering pair of workout shorts. Wait, should you wear lingerie? Was that too try-hard? You didn't really even need to wear underwear with these lined shorts, which could be a cool-girl move, you supposed. You settled on a cute white sports bra to go with the shorts, not wanting to deal with a real bra and hoping it still appealed to Jungkook's casual, athletic style. You checked yourself in the mirror briefly before grabbing your bag, confirming you looked chill enough but still felt like your best color-coordinated self. Heading out, you shoved a tin of chrysanthemum green tea in your water bottle pocket. Why not?

You whizzed over to Jungkook's apartment, yelling along to "Sex With Me" by Rihanna from your throwback playlist to hype you up in the car. When you knocked on his door after a nerve-wrackingly long elevator ride, Jungkook welcomed you with a "C'mon in!" amidst a mouthful of shrimp chips.

"It's not really dinnertime yet," (yeah, no kidding, you thought) "I went ahead and worked out but it's still kind of early, so I figured we could just have a snack and do the homework first."

"Sounds good," you affirmed. "I'm not really that hungry," (read: there's no way I can eat chips AGAIN right now, I'm going to bloat so badly) "but I brought tea so I can go ahead and make that if you want some too!"

"Oh cool, thanks!" Jungkook accepted. "Are you sure you're not hungry though?"

You almost gave into his sweet pout, but managed to convince him, and soon you both sat at the table with laptops open and twin cups of tea. You had a blast working together for the first time, acting out your "conversation" for the discussion board and pretending to respond spontaneously to each other's points like you hadn't already excitedly rambled back and forth through them in real life. You hit "send" five minutes apart, your idea to not seem too suspicious, and kept raving over Rear Window in between. As the sun lowered outside his living room window, you moved on to making the ramen.

After three offers to help Jungkook, all of which he denied, you simply made another steep of the tea, leaving a mug on the counter for him. Standing at the bar counter sipping yours, you enjoyed all the tiny, cute noises he made while chopping green onions and sprinkling extra garlic in the seasoning, like an anime character who came with his own sound effects. You could tell he made these recipe additions every time, because bulk quantities of the same simple ingredients lined the counters of his cozy kitchen. When he beat two eggs and dropped them into the pot, though, he couldn't seem to find a lid, and eventually settled on trapping the steam with a plate. You both waited on the egg for a silent moment, your foot bouncing under the bar while Jungkook restlessly acquired a slight wiggle. As he took a sip of his tea, a strand of hair fell over his eyes, and he yeeted it out of his face. Your inner language nerd cringed, but there really was no more apt word to describe the action.

You offhandedly said you liked his hair long, and he replied with a smile, "Maybe I'll have to keep it then."

"Do you like it too?" you wondered.

"Honestly no, it's kind of inconvenient."

"Oh, then why would you keep it?" you immediately asked back.

"Well..." he dragged out. "You like it? Maybe I should keep it if it looks better this way."

Your eyes crinkled appreciatively at his thoughtfulness, but then you backtracked. "Wait, no, it's okay! If you don't like it, don't feel like you have to keep it just because of something I said. You can do whatever you want."

"Hm, yeah." A demure smile tugged up the corner of his mouth as he lifted the plate from the ramen pot.

You watched him drag a chopstick through the floating, now-cooked egg to tear it into ribbons, then divide the noodles between two generously-sized bowls. He carefully wiped down the drips of broth from each bowl before sprinkling in his fresh toppings, then walked with you to the table.

Serving you with a pleased smile and a slight nod, he announced, "Dinner!"

"Wow," you mused playfully. "So gourmet."

"I'm really particular about my ramen," he admitted. "I have it down to a perfect routine at this point."

You took your first slurp of his particular, perfect ramen. "Well, it's really good. I'm impressed. And thanks for making me dinner, you didn't have to do all that."

"Oh, come on, it's instant ramen," he laughed. "Nothing special. And you brought the tea, so thanks. And thanks for coming over. And doing the homework with me. And...yeah." Rambling again. Why did he seem so...nervous? You were nervous. He couldn't be nervous. What reason did he have to be? But the twitch of his mouth under his wide eyes, his slightly reddened ears, his hand skittering over his neck—fuck—to ruffle his hair...every action turned another page of his open book. It felt infuriatingly unfair that genetics had assigned someone so sweet and shy and unsure of himself to that fucking body.

While you both ate and talked, you kept catching glimpses of any small flashes of skin you could find, as his long sleeves fell to expose his forearms and the wide neckline of his boxy black shirt gaped around his collarbones. What was wrong with you? Even if this did eventually turn into a dick appointment, the boy still had literally all of his clothes on. You tried to refocus on finishing your noodles, while your brain screamed at itself in shame that you could get this turned on by the sight of someone covered from neck to ankle.

Jungkook ate surprisingly slowly, probably because he kept pausing to excitedly explain his favorite things about the Cowboy Bebop episode you were about to watch together. You smiled into your tea through every out-of-context fun fact and "wait, sorry, that might have been a spoiler!"

Finally, he reached the bottom of his bowl and insisted on both taking your dishes to the sink and leaving them for him to clean later. "You sure you want to start on episode 2? Not 1?"

"Yeah, I remember well enough and your summary helped a lot too!"

"Okay, if you're positive!" he double-checked, grabbing the remote.

Gingerly lowering yourselves to the couch in sync, you avoided looking at each other as you both tried to calculate a comfortable distance between you. His hand looked ready to either hold yours or lower to your thigh, but he retracted at the last second, smoothing it over his own leg anxiously and still clearly itching to make a move. You shuffled closer to him until your thighs barely touched, and he shifted to slink an arm around you, letting your head rest on his well-muscled shoulder. After pressing “play”, he began wiggling slightly again, subconsciously grooving to the old-newspaper-style intro. Spike Spiegel appeared on the screen, his broad shoulders squared into a slouch as he listlessly watched TV. Jungkook kicked one leg over another and stretched his arms out symmetrically to echo the pose. Raising an eyebrow, he waited until you acknowledged him with a faux grimace and a hand to your ear, imitating the old man in a lab who’d just called up Spike for a new mission. You both burst into laughter and settled back into your former arrangement, Jungkook holding you imperceptibly tighter. Though you tried to stay staring straight ahead, wanting to genuinely appreciate the anime, you kept catching his doe eyes in the corner of your sight as you both giggled and gasped your way through the episode.

After avoiding eye contact too many times, you finally tilted your head for a cute sideways view of his face. He leaned toward you too, shyly closing the gap to touch his warm lips to your nose, then lower. You responded immediately, rolling your body with his so your chests met as he pulled you up into a full, deeper kiss. The longer you explored each other's mouths, the more Jungkook punctuated your movements with whimpers. He seemed hesitant to let his hands roam away from your face and neck, but his high, breathy moans made it clear that he was just as into this as you. Your hands had naturally found his taut waist, and at some point you started to bring them back up to his face too—but as your short nails grazed his chest, a particularly sensual, voice-cracking moan interrupted you. You drew back in slight surprise, blinking your eyes open to scan from his face to his body.

He followed your gaze, both slowly settling on the massive tent in his pants. You froze. Your breath grew heavier, confronted with evidence of his physical attraction to you, if nothing else. After regaining his composure, he laid a useless hand over his lap in a delicate attempt to distract you and brought his other hand up to tap your face lightly.

"Is this okay?"

His eyes glittered with equal parts hunger and concern.

"Yes!" you nodded, too quickly, too eagerly. "Yes, this is totally okay. Sorry if I'm being weird, I just...it's been a while." You cringed internally at your own words, but couldn't seem to avoid putting your foot further in your mouth. "I haven't really, like, hooked up like this before—like, I've had sex, but never really outside of a relationship. But don't worry, I get this is more your thing, and I'm totally down if you are. I just don't really know what I'm doing, and you clearly do."

Jungkook blinked at your admission, then his face twisted into something curious, inscrutable. Would he decide you weren't worth the potential for drama? His lips flattened out to a tight line, then pursed to speak, and you looked down at your lap, hoping he wasn't as embarrassed of you as you now were of yourself.

"Well, I've never had sex sober."

Your eyes flashed back up to his. A complex half-smirk offset the furrow in his brow as he exhaled in nervous relief. "So, I don't actually know what I'm doing here either."

You tried to delay your response as you processed the implications. "You mean..." You tilted your head for better eye contact, hoping to convey empathy but not pity while you silently contemplated how to proceed. "Never?"

"Yeah, I've always shown up to parties and the hookups just...happened. Nothing I didn't want, nothing bad like that, but always spontaneous. So I guess we're kind of meeting in the middle, because I've never really had to plan ahead for a situation like this and, uh, figure out what I want. Beyond, yknow, wanting to get laid in the moment, of course." Jungkook laughed off the end of his explanation, but the smile never quite hit his eyes.

"Well, okay, let's pause right there." You sighed. Something in his words didn't sit right with you. "What do you want? I want you to be sure about this, of course, but more than that, even—what do you like?"

"I..." he chuckled, sheepish, shaking his hair over his face again. "What, you want me to just tell you? Like, what I'm into?"

"Yeah," you shrugged, trying to project more confidence than you felt in hopes of encouraging him to keep opening up. "I want you to be able to communicate, I want you to be comfortable. And I want to know what you like, so I can make it as good for you as possible."

With your hands still laid flat on his chest, you felt his heart rate jump a tiny bit, and took the liberty of digging your nails in just slightly deeper. His breath caught him, and then he caught himself. "I don't know, I just want what you want."

Jungkook struggled to appear nonchalant as you rolled your eyes with an "Oh, come on," challenging his avoidance. Every instinct was telling him yes. He could hear his mind screaming at him to be intentional for once and let you take him, if not farther, then deeper than ever before. But he still hesitated, because being intentional in this case required him to be real. He had always been a fairly private person, but something about you made him feel so comfortable so fast that it counterintuitively made him more nervous. Of course Jungkook knew you weren't all innocent at this point, but the risk remained that you wouldn't really be down for everything he secretly wanted to explore. Even worse, though he didn't truly think you would, you could easily turn around and spin anything he revealed into yet another graphic rumor. Especially since you had no skin in the game yourself. He glanced down at your fingers, tensed into his chest, and narrowed his eyes.

"Why don't you tell me what you like first? And then I can tell you where we overlap," he grinned competitively. Your eyes widened as he tossed the challenge back your way. Not backing down, you flattened your hands and steeled yourself to settle the stakes.

"Fine—but only if you promise not to just go along with whatever I say. I'll let you know anything that's a hard no for me, but otherwise I want to hear at least one thing that's not on my list. I really do want what you want, that's how I am too, okay? So..." you paused to slide your fingertips over his collar and drag it down with a light scratch, now directly on his skin. You smiled with your eyes, enjoying the way he naturally responded with a hitch of his breath again. "Surely you can think of something specific."

He nodded quickly, before he could convince himself to back out. "Yeah. Promise."

"Okay," you confirmed, slightly nervous but determined to go through with this, for Jungkook's sake if anything. Seeing his body come alive with each new twist of the situation was building your curiosity, not to mention turning you on beyond belief. You could barely stand the warmth of his skin under your hands, so you drew them back to fold in your lap as you began. "So. Uh. To start. I've never really laid it all out like this either. I really like neck kisses? Like, a lot." Equally unused to this kind of directness, you wrung your hands together nervously, but sucked up the boldness to keep elaborating. "That's definitely, like, a big thing that turns me on...and then getting marked up and everything is really hot to me too. Like you can honestly go really rough with me on that, bite me even. I don't know if this is weird but even though it's annoying to cover up, I love taking off the makeup at the end of the day and seeing all the bruises on myself. Knowing I was walking around all day with that as my little secret." You swallowed shyly before continuing, but Jungkook interrupted the brief silence immediately with a hushed "Fuck."

You turned to face him fully and he didn't even move to meet your stare, eyeing the space above your sweatshirt's wide neckline like he was ready to devour you. Emboldened, your smile grew.

"So...yeah. I like being bitten, marked up. Mostly, uh," you rubbed a slightly trembling hand over your shoulder, "I'm just really into pain in general. Obviously not the bad 'I'm too dry and you're jackhammering me' kind of pain, or like, anal. Anal is a hard no. But things like biting, or hair pulling, or overstimulation. Or, like—I don't really know how to explain this, but...getting held too hard? That deep pain like when you get a massage when you're sore and it hurts but it's good, yknow?"

Jungkook looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin, breathing shallow and rapid. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, just in time for you to whisper in conclusion:

"I love that feeling."

You suddenly looked away, reticent. A thick silence swelled between you, until he composed himself enough to punctuate it. "Okay. Yeah. Pain. So like, BDSM?"

"I mean, kind of? Sure? I don't have much experience with that and I don't really need the whole power dynamic aspect; I just like the, uh, physical pain. I wouldn't be opposed to trying further, but one thing I do know is I really don't like being degraded. And I'm not into the whole daddy kink thing either. I'm just not gonna call you that, sorry," you laughed, and fortunately he giggled too. "But I know that's not, like, necessary to the rest of BDSM, and the part about giving up control is still...interesting, for sure."

"Wait," Jungkook cocked his head, making a mental note of your last sentence before he went back to the previous one. "What do you mean, being degraded?"

You half-chuckled, half-cringed, never having needed to explain something like this, especially to a guy you hopefully were about to fuck. Cheers to better communication, you supposed.

"You know, how some people when they do dirty talk are like 'yeah, you little slut, you're such a whore.' I don't like being called any of that. Like it's fine that other people like it, there's nothing wrong with that, it's just really uncomfortable for me."

His brows knit together as you explained, and he shook his head so fast it almost looked cartoonish, like a little kid refusing vegetables. "Yeah, no. Don't worry, not really my thing either."

You sighed in relief. "That's nice. I feel like it's, like, weirdly common with guys. Maybe just the kind of thing people learn from porn."

"But you still like it rough, huh? Did you learn that...from porn?" he half-joked, trying to overcome both his shyness and his gritted-teeth arousal.

"No, I don’t like porn. Most of it’s really unethical. I learned from experience," you sassed back. "I don't have a whole lot, but enough to know what I like."

"Well. Hm." He worked his tongue over his teeth, poking one cheek out over his tensed jaw. You couldn't get enough of watching him grow fascinated by your every revelation, and you were preparing to keep pressing further when he beat you to it, posing a question. "Is there anything you haven't tried before, but really want to?"

Your face heated up instantly, tasting your own medicine. You looked back to your hands, breaking his intense eye contact to give yourself the courage to be even more uncomfortably honest. "I...I...um." Your first attempt at disclosing your fantasy came out as a squeak. Swallowing, you set your shoulders and tried again, selfishly reminding yourself Jungkook seemed so eager to please that this was 99% likely to get you exactly what you wanted. "I've always been, uh, really into the idea of, um, getting spanked. I've been, uh, too nervous to ever bring it up, before now obviously, but it's definitely one of the biggest kinks I've always wanted to try. Maybe being tied up too, I think I'd like it if I tried but I haven't thought about that as much. But, yeah...spanking, definitely."

"Fuuuuuuuuck."

A lengthened version of Jungkook's earlier under-breath exclamation made you peer up at him. Your thighs already pressed together from the tension of admitting something totally new, you found yourself needing even more friction just from the sight of Jungkook with his head thrown back on the couch, a veiny hand threaded in his hair to pull the long waves back from his forehead. The full reveal of his sharp eyebrows brought a whole new level of intensity to Jungkook's already beautifully carved features. He glanced over at you, then squeezed his eyes shut with a terse exhale. You couldn't place why, but you felt a deep attraction to the way he expertly restrained himself from acting on the lust written over his face—not under your control, but his own.

"Oh, fuck. What the fuck. How the fuck would you fucking know," he swore more in a single burst than he cumulatively had ever in your presence.

"What?" you toyed, heart rate still high but relaxed enough to enjoy agitating him. "Something ring a bell?"

Jungkook shuddered out a long breath, hand ruffling his hair as his other forearm still tried desperately to subdue his boner.

"Everything," he hissed, more willing to elaborate now that you had done the same, and especially now that he could tell you really did enjoy him being more assertive. "Shit. I...I want...I know you said not to just say this but I really do want everything you want. I can't wait to mark you up. I can't wait to hold you down and bruise your neck. I want it all, I want to make you hurt so good. And then—" Breathless. He looked almost embarrassed. "Then you had to go and somehow guess basically my biggest fucking kink, I can't fucking believe you." Both hands had come up to seize his long locks as he held himself back physically, while finally letting his guard down mentally to declare everything he intended to do to you. Letting out a short laugh, he finally met your eyes. "I wanna spank your ass bright red. Fuck. This is crazy. You're perfect."

Your core throbbed at every bold word. Leaning in close to him, you let your lips approach Jungkook's beautifully sculpted jawline as he panted, his chin tossed up to fully expose his neck. You stopped just short of his skin, in awe of how much you'd been able to work him up and still so tempted to take it to the next level. "Fuck," you echoed. "This is so hot," you murmured almost to yourself. Your eyes closing along with his, you dealt the final blow. "I love that we have so much in common. But come on, you promised. One thing that's not on my list."

Jungkook whined. You could tell he needed to touch you so badly, and no one was stopping him but himself. He had no way of knowing that if he cut the whole discussion and just took you, you wouldn't even try to resist at this point. Staring at his trembling mouth from below, you quickly averted your eyes when he opened his, pretending you hadn't been looking. He inhaled a short hiss, and then spoke.

"Okay..." He paused after just the first word, blowing air through the tiny "o" of his mouth as his eyes bugged slightly from nervousness. He couldn't resist a challenge, though, and his urge to please you overwhelmed his reluctance to peel back one more layer. "So, the pain thing. I think we, uh, feel the same about me giving and you receiving. But...I'm really into it for myself too. I don't know if you'd be comfortable with it, I know you maybe want me to be more dominant and I think I like that more too in general, but you can be as rough with me as you want back. I'd love that." Eyes still open but fluttering, Jungkook's tone grew breathier, heady as he confessed. You almost giggled at how bashfully he worded his desire to dominate you, to rough each other up, but the contrast was so hot you couldn't help sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, eager for him to continue. His voice lowered. "I love being scratched, marked, bitten...hit me, push me back, any kind of pain or any way you can hurt me, I want it." He shivered, but his voice firmed up even further. "I want it so bad."

You fought to stay motionless beside him, unable to even process how much more his honesty had turned you on. You felt helpless in your desire for him, your craving to give him everything he wanted and more. He noticed your charged stillness and shifted toward you, removing a hand from his hair to finally reach for your face. Threading his fingers through your hair instinctively like he had with his own, he tilted your head back to access your neck. Jungkook finally felt confident enough to tease you back as he skimmed his lips over your pulse point, tugging your skin between his teeth for a gentle first taste and grinning when you moaned. Seeing someone so satisfied, for reasons better than just his body or their pride, brought the most incredible rush of blood to his head. And his other head.

"And I get why you want it too," he finished with a whisper in your ear. "So trust me when I say I really, really want to give it to you."

In an instant, your hands yanked his hair down to bring his face up to yours, mouths crashing together. Feverish, restless, you kissed him, hastily attempting to straddle his thick thighs before he threw his body over yours and pinned you to the back of the couch. His hands wandered, intrepid, from your waist to a quick squeeze of your breasts before he spiraled you into his strong arms. Pressing your chest flush with his as your mouths meshed, he ground his hips into you shamelessly, enjoying the way you struggled beneath him to align your core with his rock-hard dick.

"Your room?" You rushed out the words.

Jungkook laughed a little, his tone half whine and half dare. "So we're done talking?"

"Come on," you pleaded back. He finally relented, pulling you up with him and dragging you across the living room and through his door, lips not leaving yours for a second. You backed him into the bed with your arms against his strong chest, and once he was sitting perched on the edge, you laid yourself horizontally over his thighs.

"What are you doing?" he murmured, curling a hand over the dip of your waist to hold you gently.

You angled your head back to make unsteady eye contact with him, flipping your shorts down boldly. His free hand automatically reached to slowly conform to the shape of your ass, so eager to touch you but tentative as he grazed your curves.

"Giving you exactly what you want."

"Fuck. Really? You're sure about this?" Jungkook held careful eye contact as you brought your arms back up, crossing your wrists over your head delicately. You nodded slightly and did your best to meet his gaze with confident invitation, convincing him how much you trusted and wanted him.

He smoothed his warm hand over your ass one more time, then brought it up and watched your thighs tighten at the loss of his touch. Breathing in, still a little shakily, he brought his hand down on your right cheek with a loud but mild smack. A grunt of satisfaction involuntarily left him when he saw your face flinch down into the sheets, subduing a small noise of surprise. He returned his hand to caress the light redness he'd left, checking in with you again. "Is this okay? Let me know if I should stop."

You replied with your face still tucked between your arms, muffled by the bed. "More than okay. Please don't stop."

He spanked you again, moving to your left cheek. This time you felt his dick twitch under you and couldn't help grinding down on him a little bit. "Is that as hard as you can go?" you taunted in low tones, brave enough to egg him on but not quite enough to meet his eyes again.

Jungkook's thighs and core tensed under you, and he squeezed his fingertips tighter, digging into the skin of your ass. "Not at all," he said simply.

Deep breath. A few seconds passed, and his hand came down, harshly. You cried out in shock, the timing unexpected and the sting far sharper, and he gave your other cheek a fourth hard smack before you could even process the third one. "Harder?" he tested. "Tell me."

Another spank. "Mmmf."

"You like this, huh?"

"Yes, I told you," you whimpered back, half-teasing even though you were in no position to do so. Immediately, he cut you off with a stinging hit across both cheeks, and you moaned.

"You really do," he breathed lowly. "Fuck yeah. Take it then."

He spanked you again, and again, then paused, tugging down your shorts all the way to your ankles to expose the crease right above your thighs. Rubbing your already sore bottom, Jungkook cupped the underside of its curve in his big, firm hand. Already anticipating your whine, he drew back his touch and hummed in harmony with you. He continued landing satisfyingly hard smacks, alternating to cover your ass evenly. His dick strained through his pants more and more each time you trembled under his touch. Never hitting you hard enough to do serious damage, he still clearly enjoyed his thorough reddening of your ass, and occasionally took a moment just to caress your skin as it warmed from the spanking. The pain lit your senses up from head to toe. Face burning with deep arousal, you mentally thanked yourself for going out of your comfort zone and unprecedentedly admitting your kinks before even venturing into your first time together. Amidst the thrilling sting of his hand meeting your soft curves, Jungkook eventually noticed your thighs clenching together, craving friction but not really wanting relief from the pleasurable burn.

"You're wet," he marveled, sliding two warm fingers up and down your slit.

"Mhm," you mumbled back as you tilted your hips into his hand. He gave you a light slap right on the folds between your legs, eliciting another soft moan.

"So good for me," Jungkook said softly, pulling you up into his lap by your waist. "You look so pretty like this. I wanna see all of you." He tugged your sweatshirt over your head, followed by your sports bra, thankful that it stretched over your head easily. Suddenly grinning, he wound up and shot it across the room like a rubber band, and you smacked his arm, giggling.

"What was that? You cheeseball," you teased, and he blinked, chuckling lightly back. It occurred to him that he'd never laughed, or made someone laugh, during sex before.

"It was so stretchy! Don't make fun of me," he blushed.

"You're so cute," you said, fingers sliding under his t-shirt hem.

"Cute?" His eyebrows rose in mock disbelief, and he reached around to land another hit to your still-red asscheek.

"Hot," you amended. Raising his shirt and finally getting a full glimpse of his enviable abs, you groaned. "You're extremely hot, and also really cute, and it's kind of ridiculous and I don't really know how to handle all of it at once."

His face scrunching up into a smile at the praise, he fell back onto the bed with his arms behind his head. "You are too, you know. Really cute, of course. But really hot too." As you discarded his shirt and moved on to easing his sweatpants down his hips, you held in a gasp as his erection sprung up from the waistband. He was big, thick, and painfully hard, his tip glistening warm with precum and a lone vein running prominently up his smooth shaft. Although you wouldn't be corroborating them, you had to admit to yourself that all the rumors were true. You instinctively curled a hand around it, barely covering half his length, and he winced at your slightest touch. Pulling off with a single slow stroke, you slid his sweatpants and briefs all the way to the floor and then stood, looking up from his legs to his blown-out eyes to take in the glorious sight of his fully naked body.

"You shave," you said, surprised by the clean skin under his arms and between his legs.

"Yeah," he demurred, self-conscious for some reason. He lowered his arms to fold them over his torso, somehow defining his biceps even more. "I'm on the dance team, and it's nice to feel all smooth for practice and stuff. I don't know, I just like it."

"Oh, that's cool! No worries, I like it too. And you don't mind that..." You looked down at yourself, still just standing naked in front of him. "...I don't? Like, down there at least."

"No, you do you!" he said quickly. With a shy smile, he admitted, "I actually kind of like it on you. I do this for me, anyway, not for anyone else," he playfully noted. Slowly, he was sitting up to take hold of your waist and lower you down to the bed with him. Pausing to kiss the sweet spot under your jaw, he continued. "So don't feel like you have to do anything, or not do anything, either."

Jungkook couldn't quite explain the nature of how his attraction to you had developed. Seeing how open and honest you were with him made it easy for him to be honest with you too, and just to feel comfortable being himself. He admired the way he could still tell you sometimes got nervous like him, but it didn’t stop you from getting real or going bolder. Unable to fully express it in words, he just hoped to ensure you felt as comfortable and respected around him as he did around you. He already knew that he wanted this to be more than just a one-time thing, and while he still hesitated to assume that you felt the same, he intended to leave no doubt by the end of the night.

You moaned as he nipped at the skin of your neck. It was so easy to get swept back up in Jungkook. You could barely handle the friction of his dick rutting against your wet folds from below, craving him inside you. "Ughhh. Wait, one more thing. I'm on the pill, are you clean?"

"Yes," he gasped, barely removing his mouth from your jaw. "Are you?"

"Yeah, so we don't need a condom. If that's cool with you!"

"Yeah! But, you're ready?" He seemed surprised.

"Aren't you?" you whined, beyond holding back. He felt so unbearably hard that his coherence and willpower kind of surprised you too. "Please, I want you so bad."

To your surprise, he lowered his head to the crest of your legs, dotting wet kisses down your torso. Keeping his big brown eyes on you, he teased your entrance with a finger and echoed your immediate groan at the welcome stretch.

"You really are ready," he remarked, awed at the ease with which your wetness sucked the digit in. Frankly, you were in awe as well. It had taken your ex-boyfriend months to figure out how to get you this worked up. Jungkook either had even more experience than you'd heard from the grapevine, or he was a natural. Or maybe you were just really, ridiculously, primally attracted to him. He went on to curve his finger in you and lick a messy swipe up your folds, sucking hard once he reached your sensitive clit. You cried out at the delicious burst of stimulation and he rose up to catch your lips with his.

"I had to do that, just once," he grinned breathlessly. "But—"

"Let me suck you off," you interjected, unbelievably fucking turned on and dying to please him.

"No," he gasped with far more fervency than you'd think anyone could refuse a blowjob. "Please, I was about to say—" he choked out a high-pitched moan as you ran a single finger up his shaft in anticipation, sinking the nails of your other hand into his thigh. "—I think I'm gonna explode if I don't get inside you right this second."

So he did have a breaking point. "Fuck," you muttered, bringing your legs around his to tuck your heels under his tight ass as he lined up. He eased his tip in, keeping heavy eyes on you the whole time, and you could feel the hot, thick tension in his thighs as he struggled to hold himself back from just thrusting into your heat. Slowly, he drew closer into you until he bottomed out with a low moan. You whined at the perfect slight pain of the stretch, and Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut, gripping you by your waist. Watching the veins in his forearms stand out as he drove almost all the way out and back into you, you rocked your hips carefully against his with each smooth stroke, getting used to his fullness. When his balls met your ass again, he shuddered a bit and opened his eyes into yours.

You answered his question before he could even ask it. "Jungkook—you feel so good. You can go faster, it's okay."

A smile hit his eyes before his mouth, and he kissed you once, pressing his chest to yours and intertwining your tongues eagerly. You bit his bottom lip as he slowly drew away, tugging it between your teeth to pull a sweet little whimper from his throat. Grinning, he leaned back in to touch his forehead to yours and simultaneously slid a subtle hand under your ass to curve your hips up with his. The slight leftover sensitivity of your skin amplified his light touch, and Jungkook seemed to realize this, curling his fingers to tease you with the tips of his nails. Instinctively, you ducked to bite his neck, not even registering your move to pass the pain back to him until he choked out a beautifully half-restrained moan and snapped his hips into yours. Gasping, you encouraged him to lose himself in you, dragging your lips up to latch around his earlobe. He hissed and thrust into you sharply again, meeting the time of your movements as you swirled your tongue between each of his hoop earrings. Soon he was pounding you rhythmically, finally letting you feel the full force of his strength but keeping remarkable control over both his body and yours. Both of you had gone silent except for your heavy breaths, lost in the moment, but the flexed shivers of his thighs and twitches of his fingers in your hair told you all you needed to know. Suddenly yanking your strands to pull you back from the additional bruise you'd sucked beneath his ear, he earned a new set of scratches on his back as your hands dragged down the muscular expanse in reply. Jungkook switched places with you to draw dark clouds from your skin, a storm brewing under your jaw. Your face fell into pure bliss, eyes shut and immersed in the barrage of sensation from his hands, mouth, and big dick filling you. Already feeling the familiar tension that preceded an orgasm building through your whole body, you chased him closer to his climax too, grinding back roughly into every thrust and raking your hands over every part of his firm body you could reach.

You had really been fooling yourself when you thought you could try something casual for once. You wanted more of Jungkook, all of Jungkook, nothing but Jungkook ever again. Knowing he'd never even gone back to the same hookup twice sank slight anxiety into your stomach, a kind of future nostalgia for this moment you already feared losing. You knew you weren't anything special compared to the catalogue of gorgeous girls he'd had his turn with, but a deviant voice whispered from the back of your mind that you could be, because it was clear none had bothered to learn him like this. You'd still try your desperate best not to want too much from him, but you resolved to do whatever you could to make him crave more.

Rolling your hips in a smooth circle against him, you clenched around his dick and your hands tightened their fierce hold on his tiny waist. You felt his abs tense within your grasp as he tried not to stutter into you.

"Fuck. No." His voice cracked, but held an undertone of ferocity. "You come first." Jungkook rushed a hand to your clit, adding pressure in small, deft motions with a fingertip as he kept fucking you deep. You sank your teeth into his shoulder in response, drawing your hands up his back to clutch him closer to you, and Jungkook cried out. You left your mouth on his golden skin to stifle your moans as he sped up his fingers, and he tried to let you stay there but eventually couldn't help pulling you off him to see your face. Eyes narrowed and eyebrows turning up sharp at the ends, he watched you like a hawk to track the exact moment when he pushed you over the edge. Your face crumpled and you felt your whole body burn under his gaze as you came, squeezing around him in waves of pleasure while he fucked you through your high, unrelenting. Drinking up the bliss obvious on your features, Jungkook's eyes never left yours and his expression grew more and more fucked out. You marveled at how even as you lost control and energy to fuck him back, your body freezing in orgasm seemed to turn him on further. One last pulse of the tension leaving your core made his dick throb inside you, and you impulsively broke your eye contact to lean in and bite down slow but hard on his neck again. He gasped.

"You're amazing." Murmuring into his skin, you kissed the bite marks gently. Jungkook whimpered at the sweet contradiction and lurched into your hips even harder. You recovered to move with him, squeezing him deeper into you every time he bottomed out, and as his breathless moans escalated in pitch, his whole body shivered with each stroke. Pressing wet, heavy kisses all over his neck, you felt his jaw flutter while his lips hung open. His considerable strength spent, Jungkook shuddered one last hard thrust into you and finally let go, coating your walls from within. His hips lightly rocked against yours as he stayed deep inside you, still hard and savoring the euphoric release he'd held back for so long. You felt so incredibly warm and comfortable around his sensitive dick, relaxed but still holding him tight, and he couldn't help holding you up for a languid kiss before pulling out of you smoothly.

He briefly looked into your eyes, and you saw stars. The sun had continued to set outside, and it peeked between the blinds of his window to wrap you both in a warm, slivered glow. Staring down at his hands on your body, Jungkook took a deep breath and collapsed to your side, holding you close. You settled into him, cupping a hand over his head on your chest. With your fingers laced through his sweaty hair, you stroked his temple with your thumb, worrying for a second whether the gesture seemed too intimate but forgetting your fear when he snuggled up into your touch. You felt the need to say something, to figure out what the fuck was next after this, but stayed silent, not wanting to disturb the comforting weight of his frame. Heartbeat still racing, Jungkook stretched out to breathe a long sigh. As he sank back into you, you stretched under him too, letting his solid, warm body drape over you like a blanket. This couldn't be farther from what you'd expected with him, but you weren't about to make it stop. Surely, eventually, he would.

A minute passed. And then five. And then, before either of you could talk yourselves out of it, you were asleep, intertwined.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic #college!jungkook #college au!jungkook #bts college au #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #my writing #fic: anti-hero #anti-hero #anti hero

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deweydoesnoveltytees · 1 year ago

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curiositydooropened · 4 years ago

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Movie Night

Steve skipped up the lawn to the Buckley’s front door, sneakers dampening in the wet grass. The nights turned darker quicker and the bustle of the beginning school year settled the streets of Hawkins. A chaotic summer full of new shopping centers and a town torn apart soon dipped to cool autumn nights, and the rumors seemed to fade with the falling of the leaves.

---

Read the rest on AO3 or keep reading.

Steve could still smell SS Butterscotch, still nursed the tear at his lip with a slick tongue, still heard Russian conversation ringing in his ears. With the new school year came study sessions for the nerds, who weren’t allowed to be out on school nights, and Steve found himself mostly alone in his room, haunted by plaid walls and the Flesh Monsters of his mind. He thought he’d be used to it by now. A nineteen year old guy shouldn’t be afraid of the dark.

And yet, he practically sprinted from his BMW to the Buckley’s front stoop. The wrap of his knuckles was answered by a stately woman in a power suit, clearly readying herself to be out the door as fast as he had entered. “Mr. Harrington,” the woman commented with a knowing smirk on red lips. She fastened a pearl stud to her earlobe. “I didn’t know we were expecting you.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Buckley,” Steve leaned awkwardly on the balls of his feet, unsure if he was permitted to enter or if he should just leave now. He never knew where he stood with the Robin’s parents.

Understandably, they believed Steve had pulled their daughter from a burning building. Robin was convinced her mom thought they were screwing, an uncomfortable tidbit that sent Steve’s cheek burning as he stared into the older woman’s eyes. Robin’s father was a military man, not around much, intimidating as hell.

“That’s quite alright, dear. What are you two up to tonight?” Again, the look.

Steve rocked back on his heels, running an awkward hand through his hair. “Oh I don’t know. I think watch a scary movie?”

“How exciting. I’m off to a book club night. I’ll be home late. Take of her, will you?” Mrs. Buckley shoved a book under her arm for emphasis, the cover was stained purple and atop it was a Fabio-haired man that reminded Steve a little too much of Billy Hargrove. He blanched.

“Mom, go!” Robin’s voice called from within the house.

Mrs. Buckley waved her off with a smile. “I’m going, I’m going! Lock up behind me. You kids have fun!” And she was off.

Robin stood atop the staircase, all legs under an oversized t-shirt. Her hair was a mess in a scrunchie atop her head, and she stood with one hand on her hip, the other gesturing for him to hurry his ass inside. It’s getting cold.

Steve did as instructed, slipping soggy sneakers onto the entry mat and shrugging off his red and white puffed jacket. Dustin had asked him where he’d gotten it. He didn’t share, figured he’d get it for the kid for his birthday coming up.

“I’m thinking Evil Dead,” Robin squawked her way around the corner and up the stairs, not bothering to make sure he had followed.

Steve groaned. “Again? It’s like I’ve befriended Jonathan Byers.”

“You have befriended Jonathan Byers.” Robin reminded him, stopping at the doorway to her bedroom to prove her point.

“Shared trauma does not make us friends.”

“Shared girlfriend might.”

“Fuck off.”

Robin grinned.

Robin’s bedroom was a hodge podge of nerdom and geekery. It wasn’t covered in Science crap like Dustin’s, but the Arts. There were hand painted Drama masks in one corner and a Saxophone stand in the other. She had a collection of video cassettes and vinyl records and everything was bright colors and black all at once. She’d carved sonnets into her headboard with a ball point pen. A small television stand stood opposite her bed, just beside a window. She climbed out that window one night, late August, and biked to his house. They stayed up for hours outside the pool, talking about Starcourt, talking about it all.

Unceremoniously, she plopped onto her bed, belly first, legs flopping behind her. She fluffed a pillow under her chest and patted the spot next to her for Steve to sit. At the foot of the bed, near her head, was a bowl of popcorn and a platter of assorted candies. The colorful gummies reminded Steve of topping sundaes and his head spun a little. Reluctantly, he slipped beside her, back to her headboard, socked feet near her shoulder.

“Keith said they’re hiring down at Family Video,” Robin offered, pulling a gummy worm between her teeth. She leaned forward for the remote and the bed shifted under her weight.

“Ugh, Keith?”

“A job’s a job, dingus. Do you want cash or not?”

Steve supposed she was right. Well, it was Robin, she was always right. But the idea of slinging video tapes next to Loud Mouth Buckley and Pizza Face didn’t seem ideal. Although, his dad had been on his ass again. The novelty of his traumatic incident had seemed to have worn off on the old man. Steve should suck it up.

“So how’s school?” Steve asked as Robin fast forwarded through the commercials.

She shrugged. “Weird. It’s almost like no one else fought a human flesh monster from another dimension.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, that’s so bizarre.”

Robin rolled over to face him. “No really, though. It sucks. It’s like everyone just forgot.”

“Everyone that could,” Steve nodded. He picked at a pen mark on the lap of his jeans.

“Nancy’s doing well,” Robin prodded at him with a spindly finger.

“I didn’t ask.” Steve sighed.

“I know, but you loooooved her,” Robin cackled. He always forgot how juvenile she was.

“Yeah, well, I’m seeing that… Patsy girl, or whatever.” He’d taken a girl from high school on a couple of dates now. She was a senior too, a little geeky. They mostly made out in his car. She was a sloppy kisser and didn’t seem like she was going to put out, and she definitely wasn’t relationship material.

“Ugh,” Robin rolled her eyes. “I told you not to go there. She’s a lost cause.”

“Apparently that’s my type,” Steve sighed. “Are we going to watch this movie or what?”

Steve didn’t know how they did it, how they could through hours of prosthetic makeup and gore and horror, after what they’d been through. Maybe they were desensitized. Scary movies just weren’t scary anymore, they were almost comical. Bruce Campbell had no idea of the real horrors that were out there, that walked among us. The worst of it was, most of Steve’s nightmares weren’t even about the monsters he’d seen and killed, but about the humans, the ones that got away.

The film had ended and he wiped at tired eyes, propped up against his bent knee. Robin slurped the last few bubbles from her can of Coke and threw her head back against the headboard. “Dingus?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think we’re going to be fucked up forever?”

“Probably.” Steve sighed. The red thread had become to pull loose on the toe of his sock. “I used to think I could be normal if I just pretended. Like, if I just act like a normal teenager, I am a normal teenager, but I think that’s… bullshit.” He snorted.

“Yeah, it’s like, I want to do normal teenaged shit, like get stoned with my friends after band class, but I can’t because I’m terrified I’m going to let it all out, and then they’re going to just ditch me because I’ll be that freak girl who makes up monsters.”

Steve ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I guess I never really thought of that. I always had Nancy, and then when I didn’t, I just channeled it into sports, I guess.”

“Ugh, sports,” Robin scoffed.

A moment passed between them.

“Dingus?”

“Yeah, Rob,” he closed his eyes, leaning his chin on his knee. He wondered if he had patience for more of her questions tonight. The lure of his bed at home seemed ever present, and sometimes he wanted to shut out the horror, to turn off his brain and think of sports and video games and the girls in magazines in his closet and not Hawkins and all of this shit.

“When I go to college, are you coming with me?”

He hadn’t thought of that, and he didn’t want to. The prospect of college felt far off, unwelcome, felt like something he wasn’t built to endure. He worried too much about his kids, his family, he had to take care of them now that Hopper was gone, and Joyce. He had to fill that void, subconsciously of course. “I don’t know, Rob. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“That’s fine,” she agreed. He was glad she knew he needed to take things slow. “I’m forcing you to apply for Family Video with me though.”

He groaned, flopping dramatically to the pillow beside her. She laughed and splayed a hand across his chest. “Think of the babes, Harrington.” She said softly. “Chicks love movies.”

Steve managed to slip out the door just as Mrs. Buckley was arriving home. The woman giggled her way up the stoop, slipping in heels, breath wine soaked. She gave Steve a kiss on the cheek, smearing her lipstick as she went, and he blushed as she grappled his arms for stability when she removed her shoes from her heels.

“Have a goodnight, Mrs. Buckley,” he managed, getting ready to close the door behind himself, but the woman stopped him with a slammed hand.

Her face went suddenly sober, eyes brimming with emotion. “Thank you for saving my little girl.”

He smiled softly and nodded. “Anytime, Mrs. Buckley,” and he meant it.

#steve harrington #robin buckley #stranger things #joe keery #maya hawke #autumn cosy #best friends fic #best friend movie night #mrs. buckley is great #steve is a softie #he loves his best friends #was just in the mood to write #fic #fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction

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chickensarentcheap · 5 years ago

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Sanctuary -Chapter 4

Warnings: none. Just some cute Ovi and little kids ;)

Tagging: @valkyrie-of-the-light, @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

It is a fifteen-minute drive into town; a picturesque central area with a healthy mixture of both low and high end shops and numerous eateries and cafes. In the winter it is reminiscent of a Dickens novel; snow covered trees and streets, the Victorian area store fronts boasting immaculate decorations and displays in their front windows, white lights strung from almost every available surface, and a skating rink in the centre of it all. In the summer, when tourists flowed into the area and brought in the most money for the economy, the sidewalks were full of patios and lined with immaculate floral gardens. Telluride is a small town, and regular residents all seemed to know one another; conversing in front of the bank and post office, catching up on gossip and talking about high school sports. Tyler’s already exchanged pleasantries and small talk with five people, and that was when just stepping out of the car.

When they’d first arrived, talk had spread fast about the new family in town. They’d spent four months living with her parents and getting on their feet before buying able to buy a home with their joint savings and money that Mahajan had managed to scrap together and give as thanks for taking care of his son. Nik had taken it upon herself to act as the ‘small town gossip’, quickly using some of her contacts to spread small little rumours about who they were: an ex Australian Army soldier who’d been injured in Afghanistan and forced to retire at a young age, his young pregnant wife and their baby girl, and a kid that they’d adopted after losing both of his parents. It had managed to keep people from asking too many questions when they’d show up unannounced at the house with various casseroles and baked goods and welcoming gifts. Every so often someone would ask about his service record and just what happened that forced him to leave at such a young age and Tyler would just repeat the same old bullshit about arthritis and nagging injuries and show off some of the more prominent scars that marred his body. Just like five years ago in Dhaka, people had taken to them. They were young, friendly, always willing to lend a hand if someone needed it. Never too accessible, but just accessible enough. Never free and easy with their personal information, but giving out just enough that kept people curious. And when he started his own business, word travelled fast and within a week he had a client list of over two dozen. On his first day of school, Ovi already had people waiting to meet him. Interested in who the kid with the ex Army Aussie dad was.

Even five years later it is a novelty of sorts: an Australian living in their small town. They’re intrigued by his accent and his slang and always want to hear stories about ‘the land down under’. Even now he couldn’t go into the hardware store or into the pharmacy to buy diapers without someone wanting to hear all about kangaroos and koalas and was it really true they had spiders the size of dinner plates? He humoured them for the most part; slightly annoyed when they attempted to copy the way he talked. What was the saying? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery? He’d just laugh it off and they’d think it was hilarious whenever he called them mate.

The twins and Millie had decided to tag along; the boys wanting mohawks done at the barber and their sister wanting ice cream. The little mom and pop candy store was always one of their stops when they happened to make it into town, and she wasn’t about to let her father forget about it.

“I can take her,” Ovi offers, still trying to make up for his huge fuck up the night before. “I could use some ice cream too.”

“Oh please, daddy?! Please?!” Millie gushes, as she waits for him to unload her brothers from their car seats before tending to her. “Can Ovi take me for ice cream? Let Ovi take me for ice cream!”

“Sometimes I think you love him more than me,” he teases, as he leans across the back seat to unbuckle her, and in response she curls both arms around his neck and gives him a sloppy, noisy kiss on the forehead.

“I don’t love anyone more than you daddy.”

“Not even mommy?”

“Mommy is a close second. Don’t tell her that though. It might make her sad.”

“What about your brothers? Where are they on your list?”

“Oh they are wayyyy down there. Like between broccoli and Brussel sprouts.”

“You hate broccoli and Brussel sprouts.”

Her eyes narrow. “Exactly.”

He can’t help but laugh at the seriousness in her voice, at the frown that takes over her face, the way her normally brilliant blue eyes grow dark. So much like him in so many ways. He sees it all the time; in all of his kids. Certain facial expressions and mannerisms that he long ago recognized in himself.

“Okay, I know they piss you off, but they’re still your brothers,” he reminds her, as she clambers out of the SUV.

“Maybe they’re adopted,” she sounds hopeful at the idea, and then rolls her eyes at them when they start harassing her about her dress and her pig tails.

“I hate to break it to you, but they’re not. They definitely came out of mommy’s tummy. I was there. I saw it happen.”

“But how’d they get in there? Maybe other babies got put in her tummy by accident.”

“Naw, I was there for that too. So sorry. You’re stuck with the brothers you have.”

She’s side eyeing them now, with absolute disdain despite the fact they’re actually behaving and just waiting patiently for their dad to lock the car and set the alarm. He recognizes that look, too. He’s used it many times himself when someone’s mere presence has annoyed the shit out him.

“They’re just so…ughhh…” she huffs dramatically.

That’s definitely more her mother coming out.

“But at least I have you, right Ovi?” she curls a hand around two of his fingers and gazes up at him adoringly. “At least you won’t pick on me and pull my hair and do stupid boy stuff. You’re like an older brother, right? That’s what mommy always says. That you’re practically my big brother. Is that true?”

The kid looks as if he may burst into tears at the mere thought of it. “If that’s what you want. Do you want me to be your big brother? I’ve always wanted a little sister.” He’s always seen her that way. She’d been his first hands on experience with babies and he’d relished every moment. Never once complaining when he was asked to change a dirty diaper or she threw up on his clothes. He was a natural, calm, patient, compassionate. A surprise, considering he’d never been brought up experiencing any of those traits.

“I can be your little sister,” she offers, and picks his arm up and slings it around her shoulders.

It takes him a moment to compose himself. And he blinks his eyes several times and clears his throat and then smiles down at her.

“I’d like that.”

****

When he was a kid, this place would have been paradise. An entire wall devoted to clear plastic cylinders filled with a rainbow of various candy, display cases showing of chocolates in all kinds of shapes and even cartoon characters and over two dozen different flavours of fudge. There’s even an old fashion milkshake and ice cream bar on the far wall, serving everything from basic cones to sundaes with dozens of available toppings, and enormous banana splits.

Oh, to be a child again! He longed for those days. Not his childhood and his previous life in India; spent as a prisoner in his own home because of his father’s evil misdoings. But a childhood that would be much simpler. Worry free. Where he could actually be a kid and enjoy all the innocence that came with it. If he could choose, he would pick this moment, this place, this family, to experience as a child. In a home where he felt safe. Valued. Respected. Loved. Where his opinions and his feelings are validated, and he can speak without being spoken to. Where there is more laughter than there were tears. More smiles than harsh raised voices.

And love. Lots and lots of love.

That is what he witnessed in his new home, with his new family. He’d been made to feel as if he was loved just as much as the biological children. He was valued. Seen as a person and not a thing. Tyler and Esme never said those three little yet powerful words, but he felt them. In the way they expressed pride in his school accomplishments, in the way they helped him battled his issues since the incident in Dhaka five years ago, how they encouraged him to always try his best and learn from his mistakes. Even when he was younger and being disciplined, there was love in it. They only wanted what was best for him and hated to see him wandering down difficult paths.

No. They never said it. Neither did he. But it was all around him. And inside of him.

Half a dozen customers linger in the store; a small family picking out candy, a couple sitting on the stools at the counter, and a solo man sitting in one booth at the very back. A trucker style hat pulled low over his eyes, sleeves of brightly coloured tattoos visible under his t-shirt, a mug of black coffee and that day’s newspaper in front of him. He glances up as they enter; his eyes locking on Ovi’s for a split second, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Ovi finds it a tad unsettling. He’s spent a lot of time wandering the town and in and out of the various shops and he’s never seen that face before. And in Telluride, newcomers stick out like sore thumbs.

Millie tightly holds his hand and happily skips alongside of him, pausing every couple of feet to spin in a circle; commenting on the way her dress looked when she twirled. Because that’s how the princesses’ dresses moved in all the movies she’s seen, and she would very much like to be a princess when she’s old.

And a firefighter.

“That’s quite the combination,” he remarks. “A princess and a firefighter? Are you going to wear your tiara and your princess dress when you go to fires?”

“Maybe the dress, but not the tiara,” she says. “Because I wouldn’t be able to get my helmet on.”

Pretty sound logic.

He notices the way people watch them, mostly out of curiosity. That sweet little girl in her blue and white gingham dress and her light up Frozen sandals. With her unruly hair and her huge blue eyes, her hand tightly clutching his. They probably think he’s a babysitter. Or a family friend. But truth be told, he is closer to her than he’s ever been to any of his blood family.

“Let’s see what we want,” he says, and scoops her up into his arms, settling her on his hip in the same fashion he’s seen Tyler use so many times. And she curls an arm around his neck and pushes her unruly hair out of her eyes and leans forward as far she can go in order to get a closer look at the tubs of ice cream laid out in the freezer before them. He doesn’t know why he bothers. She orders the same thing every time they’re there.

“Aren’t you a lucky little girl,” the cashier says, as she rings up their order. “Having a friend take you out for ice cream.”

“Oh, he’s not my friend,” Millie informs her. “He’s my brother.”

The woman arches an eyebrow.

“What she means is…” Ovi attempts an explanation of his own, but Millie jumps right in.

“Just ‘cause we look different doesn’t mean he’s not my brother. ‘Cause he is. My mommy and daddy adopted him when his mommy and daddy died. He didn’t have anywhere else to live so mommy and daddy let him live with us. I also have three other brothers.”

“Are they adopted to or…”

“Nope. They’re my real brothers. They have the same mommy and daddy as I do. Two little brothers were enough and when mommy was having another baby, I really wanted a little sister. Or a puppy. Puppies don’t cry all the time and wake me up in the middle of the night and steal my toys. But nope, another brother,” she’s clearly disgusted by that fact. “How come so many boys? Daddy says that some people just have lots of boys and others have lots of girls and some just have a little of both. But mommy says daddy is a boy making machine. Whatever that means.”

“I am so sorry,” Ovi apologizes. “She likes to talk.”

“My brothers that came right after me are twins,” she continues, taking the cashier’s wide-eyed interest and awe at her precociousness as her cue to keep going. “Tanner. And Tyler. Tyler’s my daddy’s name too. My baby brother is Declan. He’s the cutest one. The other two are just way too annoying. And Declan doesn’t pick on me and pull my hair. And I’ll make sure he doesn’t…” she makes a fist, as if to signify she’s going to punch him in the face if he doesn’t tow the line.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ovi notices the tattooed man in the trucker hat slipping out of his booth; mug of coffee and newspaper in his hands as he moved closer to them. Dropping into one of the stools closest to the entrance. He shifts nervously from foot to foot; keeping one arm tight around Millie as he pocked his change and then carries her and their treats to the nearest table. He makes sure that he’s facing the door. Tyler has always told him that is was the smart thing to do; you didn’t want to be surprised by trouble sneaking up on you.

He hates that he’s still so paranoid. That the nightmare he’d gone through in Dhaka still bothers him to this day. It’s his cross to bear; painful and heavy. And some days he just wishes he could ease the burden on his tired shoulders.

Instead of taking the seat across from him, Millie slips in right beside him, kneeling on the vinyl bench in order to reach her ice cream. She happily digs in; spooning the bubble gum flavoured concoction into her mouth as she rattles on about gymnastics and martial arts and how she really wishes that daddy didn’t hate hockey so much, because she’d really like to learn how to play it. And how to hit people really hard and fight them. And as he listens intently and offers up nods and appropriate responses, he casually keeps an eye on the stranger seated at the counter. Ovi knows he’s watching them. He can feel it every time he looks away to pay attention to Millie.

“Ovi?” she suddenly asks, as she licks ice cream off her fingers.

“Yeah?”

“What does daddy do? What’s his job?”

“He fixes up houses and makes them nice again. And helps people do things they’re not able to do in their own homes. You know that.”

“I don’t mean that job. I mean his other job. The one that Auntie Nik always calls him on the phone about.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I…”

“He always leaves in the middle of the night and then he’s gone in the morning and I’m mad that he didn’t even say goodbye,” she continues. “And then he’s gone a long time and mommy is really sad and cries about it. She tries to say that she doesn’t cry, but I hear her when she thinks I’m asleep. I know she’s worried about daddy. Is he doing bad things?”

“No,” he assures her. “He’s not.”

“I don’t like that he’s gone all the time. It makes me sad. And then I can’t sleep because I’m sad and daddy isn’t there to tuck me in and read me a story. Where is he? Where does he go? Mommy says he’s far away, but he still calls us every night. It makes me feel better when he calls. ‘Cause I can hear his voice.”

“He’s a lot of different places,” Ovi explains. “He travels a lot.”

“But what does he do? What kind of job is it?”

“He helps people. People that are in trouble.”

“Are bad guys after the people?”

He nods. “The bad guys are after them and your dad goes and helps them get away. He rescues good people from bad people.”

Her eyes widen and her voice is above a whisper, speaking in astonished awe. “You mean like a superhero?!”

He grins. “Just like a superhero.”

“Like the Avengers?!”

“Just like them. Just like Thor.”

“Oh, he’s my favourite!” she gushes. “Mommy’s too because she says he’s a total snack.”

“I wouldn’t tell your dad that. About mom thinking Thor’s a snack. Or about how you know he’s a superhero. He doesn’t see himself that way and he doesn’t like to talk about it. You know how some superhero’s keep it a secret and no one knows who they are? That’s how it is with your dad. So we’ll just keep it between us, okay? You don’t want to embarrass him, right?”

“I’m not brave, mate.”

“Of course you are. You rescue people.”

“Yeah, sometimes. Sometimes I do other things.”

“You mean like killing people?”

Ovi can hear that conversation as if it were just yesterday. At Gaspar’s house, when he’d asked Tyler if he’d always been brave. How could you not be? When you willingly put your own life on the line to save the lives of others? Even if there was money involved, it still took a lot of courage to go into a situation where you didn’t know if you’d survive or not. Tyler and his father were nothing alike. His father had killed people with horrible intentions. Tyler kills because he has to. To save others and himself. He would never tell the little girl beside him that. Those details are difficult to digest and painful to hear about, and she doesn’t need to know them until she is older.

And maybe not even then.

“Ovi?” she asks once again, and he uses the tip of his thumb to clear ice cream from the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah?”

“That man is giving me the creeps.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, tries to play it cool. “What man?”

“That one,” her eyes narrow once more as she glares at the stranger in question. “He keeps looking at us. Why does he keep looking at us?”

“Maybe he just thinks you’re cute. Or he’s jealous because you have ice cream and he doesn’t.”

“We could always ask him,” she suggests. “About why he’s staring at us.”

“Or we could just mind our own business and eat our ice cream. We don’t want it to melt, do we?” he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her a little closer and a little tighter to his side.

***

The chime above the door sounds as it swings open and Ovi watches as Tyler and the boys enter; the twins being maneuvered over the threshold with a large, strong hand gripping the back of their shirts, effectively steering them in the right direction. Both have mohawks now; one with frosted green tips, the other blue, and Ovi grins at the sight of Tyler’s own new look. Or was it in an old look? Newish oldish perhaps? The same cut he’d sported when they first five years ago. He remembers how he’d been intrigued by it; no one at school would dare have their hair cut like that and there was no way his own father or any of those paid to watch him would have ever allowed him to get it done.

He also notices it’s a bad knee day. That limp a little more prominent than usual.

“Over here boys,” he says to his sons, and with a gentle push with his thighs sends them the right way.

Ovi clears his throat noisily, making it a point to catch Tyler’s attention. And when their eyes lock, he makes a small nod in the direction of the man sitting at the counter. Pretending to be immersed in his paper as the cashier refills his coffee mug. Through the lenses of his sunglasses, Tyler’s able to check him out without even being noticed, and Ovi sees the way his head barely moves as he gives the stranger a once over; his brow slightly furrowed, lips set in a thin line.

“Hi daddy!” Millie cheerfully greets as he approaches the table, and Ovi notices how the stranger finally looks up; no expression on his face as he eyes Tyler from head to toe. “What’s up with your hair?”

“Most of it’s gone. Why? You don’t like it?”

She frowns. “It’s kinda weird.”

“Blame your mother. She likes it like this. Get in,” he instructs his sons, and helps each of them by grabbing the back of their shorts and lifting them onto the bench.

“Nice hair cuts boys,” Ovi enthuses, and he gets high fives from each of them. “Very cool. What’s up with the colour though?”

“My wife’s going to kill me,” Tyler laments, and then heads off to purchase ice cream for the twins. Ovi notices yet again that the man at the counter watches him intently; brows arching as he takes in the tall, powerful frame.

Impressed, maybe? A little intimidated? Even now Ovi himself found it hard not to be. When you’re that tall and you’re back and shoulders are that broad and your muscles are that big, you tend to draw attention to yourself. Mostly it was from women. Ovi noticed that a lot. The females like Tyler’s big muscles and his blue eyes.

Tyler slides into the seat across from him, removing his sunglasses, placing them on the tabletop and then getting the twins settled with their ice cream. He’s a good dad. Ovi has always thought so. He’s a gentler version of himself when he’s in ‘dad mode’; his features softening, his voice not as gruff. Calm and patient.

“What’s up with that guy?” he asks, jerking his head in the direction of the counter.

“He’s been staring at us,” Millie answers for Ovi, as she ducks under the table, crawls to the other side and then resurfaces and climbs onto her dad’s lap. “It’s creepy.”

“Maybe he just thinks you’re cute,” her father reasons. “Or he wants your ice cream.”

“That’s what Ovi said. Hey!” she flashes a dramatic pout when he helps himself to some of her treat.

“He’s just been sitting there,” Ovi says. “He was here before we got here.”

“What’s he be doing?”

“Sitting. Reading the paper. Drinking coffee.”

“And watching us,” Millie pipes up. “Super creepy. I don’t like creepers.”

Tyler chuckles at the use of the word ‘creepers’, and running a palm over her hair, drops a kiss on the top of her head. “You definitely are your mother’s daughter.”

“You ever seen him before?” Ovi asks. Tyler’s in town more than he is; always at the hardware store picking things up for his side business.

“Don’t think so. I think I’d remember a face like that. Definitely doesn’t fit in around here.” But then again, neither did he really. With the accent and the tattoos and the scars. And now the haircut.

“People are weird,” Tanner chimes in. He’s the observant one out of the two boys; the kind that sits back and quietly takes in a situation or an environment, brain coming up with different scenarios and outcomes. Wise and intelligent beyond his years.

“You’re one to talk with that haircut,” his father teases, and nudges him playfully with his elbow. “You realize your mother is going to seriously hurt me, yeah? She’s not going to be happy at all. Think it’s worth it? Think it’s worth me having to sleep on the couch for the rest of my life?”

His son nods enthusiastically.

“That’s it. Throw me under the bus. Now I remember why your brother is my favourite,” he’s teasing of course, and reaches across the bench to gently and playfully pinch his name sake just below the ribs.

Ovi notices just how much they all actually do like alike. The same facial features: blue eyes framed by impossibly long and dark lashes, almost the exact same colour and texture of hair, the same noses and ears. Even the same smiles and mannerisms. The way they will each smirk and cock their heads to the side when they’re sensing someone else’s bullshit.

There are definitely some extremely strong genes on Tyler’s side of the family.

“He’s coming this way,” Ovi whispers, as the stranger slides off his stool, and folds his newspaper and puts it under his arm before carrying his empty cup to the cash register.

He’s average height and has a stocky build. Nothing remarkable about him at all save for the arms full of tattoos.

Tyler casually watches him; legs stretched out under the table, an arm across the back of the booth. If he senses something is up, Ovi can’t tell for sure. There’s no darkness to his eyes or furrows across his brow.

The other man turns towards them now, briefly pausing at the side of their table as he looks down at Tyler, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Can I help you, mate?” Tyler asks. Calm. Cool. Collected. It was a trait that Ovi admired; the ability to stare someone down yet remain completely relaxed and expressionless.

“Just admiring your family. I’ve got a few kids of my own back home. Just made me miss them seeing you all together.”

“Where’s back home?”

“Chicago.”

“You’re a long way from home.”

“I could say the same about you. Accent and all.”

Tyler nods slowly. “Here for business or…?”

Ovi enjoys watching the process. The way the questions come so easily and never seem prodding or invasive. Tyler’s expression and tone never wavering.

“You could say that. What brought you here?”

“The wife’s from Colorado. Decided to move here when we started having kids.”

“Definitely a nice place to be. Well you all take care. Enjoy your family. Kids are a special gift. Don’t take it for granted.”

Tyler nods, then casts a casual glance over his shoulder, watching as the man heads through the shop and out the front door.

“Anything?” Ovi asks expectantly. “Feels weird, right?”

“Felt like it’s just a guy away from home and missing his family. I’ve been there. I know what it’s like. He probably just wanted someone to talk to.”

“But the way he was watching us. The way he was watching Millie…”

“Maybe he has a little girl of his own and she reminds him of her.”

“So you felt nothing? You didn’t feel like there’s something weird? Something’s going on?”

Tyler smirks. “Not every strange person is out to get us, mate. Sometimes people are just weird. Or lonely. Sometimes they just want someone to talk to and don’t know how to go about it. Remember how you felt when you first moved here? How different it was and you didn’t have any friends? It’s like that. But a hundred times worse. A guy’s thousands of miles from home, missing his wife, missing his kids, maybe having a shit day. So he wants to reach out to someone.”

“So you really felt nothing? Nothing at all?”

“Just a normal guy missing his family, kid. That’s all. Thought you were getting a handle on this. The paranoia. It’s been five years. If someone from back home was after you, they’d have found you by now.”

“You don’t worry? About people from your past coming to find you?”

“If I just my entire time worrying about stuff like that, I’d never leave the house. And let’s not get too into it, yeah?” he nods down at Millie and then over at the twins. “Little ears and all.”

He likes to keep things on the downlow as far as the kids are concerned. They’re young and vulnerable. Impressionable. And telling them that their dad helps people is one thing, but telling them that he sometimes has to hurt and even kill people to do it, is a different beast all on its own.

“Does chocolate milk come from brown cows?” TJ suddenly asks, effectively breaking the mood.

“Excuse me?” his father laughs. “What?”

“Well if the white milk comes from the black and white cows, where does the chocolate milk come from?” his son continues. “Brown cows, right?”

“That’s not how it works,” Tyler chuckles. “That’s not how any of that works. It comes from putting chocolate in white milk.”

“What about the grass?” Tanner’s turn now. “How come the grass is green and the sky is blue?”

“That’s a simple one,” Tyler says. “If the sky was green like the grass, you wouldn’t know where to stop mowing.”

Ovi can’t help but laugh at that. The way it is said with the utmost seriousness and how the kids are now both in awe that their dad knew that and thinking he’s apparently the smartest man on the planet. He’s able to relax again. Calmed by the fact that he’s with his people.

His family.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #chris hemsworth character #extraction #sanctuary

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feelingoodtees-blog · 4 years ago

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sicprowl · 5 years ago

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Death by Chocolate

Dimitri and Cute Byleth stuff - bc why not?

“What the heck are you wearing?!”

Dimitri frowned, glancing down at his pristine white outfit with black trim, gold buttons, and matching blue and white cape. Even his long hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, something he’d been proud of.

The nine year old couldn’t help but panic and clutch his novelty bag close, “I-It’s my costume!”

Sylvain blinked, his fake fangs peeking out from his upper lip. "Yeah, I can see that! But what are you supposed to be?!“

The red headed vampire guffawed only for Ingrid to stomp on his foot. She then smacked him out of the way with her Valkyrie shield, “I think you look great Dimitri.”

That seemed to ease the young boy, “T-Thank you. El helped me pick it out.”

Now it was Sylvain’s turn to be unsure, “Edelgard? Your step-sister?”

Ingrid punched him with her shield again and gave the blond an approving nod. "It’s great that you two are getting along. Getting a new family is…tough.“

Dimitri didn’t reply, not needing to be told how hard it’d been when his father married her mother. The boy had been excited to get a sibling, but all his interactions with said girl made him think she didn’t want anything to do with him.

"Where is Ms. Imperial Princess?”

“She’s with Hubert,” Dimitri answered as Ingrid hissed at him to stop it. "They left the house before I was done getting ready…“

"All, tall dark and Snape-y.” Sylvain snickered, earning another hit in the gut - only this time from an arriving Felix.

“Would you stop acting like an idiot?” The shorter boy snarled while crossing his arms, “You’re embarrassing!”

Sylvain gave his friend an extra toothy grin, “Says the boy dressed up like Leonardo.”

“I’m a NINJA! Not a ninja turtle!!”

The boys sniped at each other while they left Dimitri’s house and joined the many costumed kids filing around outside. The sun was still out, so a lot of the younger kids were walking with parents or in large groups - much like their own. It was going to be crowded like this for a while considering they were one of the better neighborhoods.

Three words. King sized bars.

“Is Dedue going to trick or treat with us?”

Dimtri smiled at Ingrid, “Y-Yes. He’s got to do something first, but he said he’d meet up with us soon.”

“I’m surprised he’s coming at all,” Sylvain shrugged as they came to the second house. "Trick or treating might be too childish for him.“

"Says the eldest of the group,” Felix sniffed disapprovingly while Sylvain looked affronted.

“Hey! I’m just trying to enjoy my last Halloween!” The vampire grinned and flipped his hair, “I’m getting older after all - and I can’t spend next year looking for candy. Not unless there’s a girl involved.”

Felix and Ingrid looked disgusted and made fun of the red head as they continued down the line of houses, bags growing heavy with treats and the occasional peppermint. Decorations both cute and scary greeted them at each house - along with the occasional dad who thought he was scary enough to frighten some kids. They didn’t mind if it, not if it meant more candy if they played along.

It was an hour later when the sun was already halfway past the horizon, most of the younger kids already going home for the night or visiting their last few houses. Now the streets were littered with kids thier age and preteens like Sylvain, clinging to their last night of childhood before they focused on things like sports and awkward dating.

Dimitri didnt’ look forward to that, not when his mind was already reeling with nervousness.

Not when they were nearing the house.

“Whoa, look at this place!” Sylvain pointed, “I think it’s the creepy place behind your house, Dimitri!”

“S-Shush!” The blond whispered urgently, wide eyes staring at the old manor with panic. "You’re being rude!“

But Sylvain continued to talk loudly, noting that the place was probably the oldest manor in the neighborhood. With run down shingles, shabby siding, dirty panels and creaky steps that could wake the dead. The windows were dirty, or foggy, Dimitri wasn’t sure. The front yard was slightly overrun with weeds, boxwood bushes that looked like lumpy meatballs and a driveway full of cracks that were need of serious repair.

Felix gave the shabby home the side eye. "Does anyone even live there?”

“Y-Yes,” Dimitri replied with a soft voice, his gaze looking around for something or someone.

“Whoa, really!?” Sylvain’s smile grew, “Do you think it’s haunted? Is the guy living there creepy? Does he stare at you from his windows?”

“N-No!” His head whipped around on his friend, affronted. "The family that lives here is very polite-“

But Sylvain ignored him, already walking towards the creepy home. Even the sight of other kids avoiding it wasn’t enough to deter him - which only made Dimitri begin to panic.

"W-Wait!” The Prince grabbed his friend’s arm, but he was looking around wildly. "We can’t!“

"Huh? Why not?”

Dimitri blushed, suddenly nervous as everyone began to stare, “B-Because… Because-!”

“I’m sorry I’m late,” A new voice piped in and they all turned.

“Dedue!”

Oh thank the Goddess!

Dimitr couldn’t help but feel relief at seeing his loyal friend who was…dressed as a cowboy? The group eyed his button up shirt, jeans with carpet sewn on the sides, leather boots and spurs, and brown leather hat placed neatly on his head. Sylvain would have laughed at how serious Dedue looked in his not-so-serious costume if he didn’t already know the boy could knock him into next week. The fact that the dark skinned boy acted like nothing was wrong was enough to make Dimitri feel better about his own costume.

“Took you long enough,” Felix scowled with a point of his plastic sword. "You missed half the houses already.“

"Apologies. The bakery was busy and my family needed the extra help.”

Felix huffed, accepting the explanation while Sylvain gestured towards the run down house with his thumb. "All right, let’s go, let’s go! I wanna see what kind of candy this place has!“

"If they have any at all,” Felix muttered as he walked with the vampire, Ingrid following after them.

Dedue and Dimitri stood still, the blond’s body fidgeting with nervous energy while the tall cowboy looked down at him, silent.

“Did…Is it done?”

His face felt scorching hot when Dedue nodded, pulling a wrapped bundle from inside his pocket. "Yes. It set before I had to leave.“

Dimitri let out a breath of relief, wanting to open the foil and look at his personal creation, but was also too afraid to see it.

"T-Thank you,” he smiled while taking the item, cradling it in his hands like it were precious. "I really appreciate your help with this…I wasn’t sure…“

Dedue placed his hand on the blond’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze and tiny smile. No words were said, but the look that passed between them was enough.

Gathering up his courage, the Prince gave his friend a nod before they walked up to the house where Sylvain was repeatedly ringing the doorbell.

"Hmmm, maybe no one’s home?”

Ingrid glared and smacked his hand away from the button, just in time as the front door to open and an adult greet them with a gruff hello. All but Dedue paled at the sight of the messy haired man, eyes blearly from what could only be from a heavy sleep. No one said anything as he ran a hand through his honey brown hair while looking down at them.

“Trick or treat?” Sylvain smiled, bag out hesitantly.

The man blinked, clearly confused as he looked at the boy before he cursed under his breath, hand rubbing his chin.

“Shit. Is it Halloween?”

Sylvain lowered his bag while the others showed varying degrees of disappointment on their faces. The man mumbled out an apology, tired eyes watching as the kids talked about the next house as they turned to leave. Then his gaze stopped on Dimitri and Dedue, waiting for them to also leave.

…

“Uh…” The man rubbed the back of his neck, “Sorry. I don’t really have any candy.”

Dimitri swallowed, staring up at his very familiar neighbor. Though he’d never seen the man up close, he recognized by his hair and the way he stood, that this was the same person who spent many hours of the day working outside. Each day was either spent on the roof, windows, or yard; hammering away at loose nails, pulling weeds, or painting anything that wasn’t dry rotted.

It was no surprise that he was so tired and Dimitri almost felt bad for bothering him but…

“Oh, Byleth…”

The young boy stiffened, eyes wide as he saw a bit of movement behind the man’s legs. A girl, his other neighbor, peeking out at them.

Suddenly his throat felt dry and words escaped him when their eyes met. Mint meeting blue, curious vs panicked. The familiar girl stepped out in the door way, getting a better look at the two trick or treaters. He blushed the longer she stared, suddenly wishing that pretty gaze wasn’t looking at him at this moment. Oh goddess, his hands were so sweaty; so hot and sweaty that Dimitri feared he’d melt the treat between his palms.

“T-Trick or treat!” He stuttered at her, holding out his gift to the girl he’d been watching from the small gap of flowers and fence that separated their yards.

Amusement flashed between the man’s eyes as he looked down at Dimitri. "I’m pretty sure we’re the ones who have to give you a treat, kid.“

Dimitri blushed, shaky arms still held out towards the blank girl. Hopeful. Desperate.

Her father nudged her shoulder. She looked up at him for silent confirmation and earned a nod before she took the gift. The Prince swallowed when their fingers touched then quickly pulled away the moment she had the bundle. Dedue gave him a look of encouragement as the girl unwrapped the chocolate in the shape of a flower.

Dimitri spent many hours with Dedue the day before in his family’s bakery, learning to make chocolate from his friend specifically for this reason. It had been embarrassing to ask, but Dedue had been understanding and patient as he showed him the steps and how to decorate.

"It’s a Forget-Me-Not.” Dimitri blabbed, eyes wide as if under a spotlight. "I-I tried to make a rose, but they’re a little hard and…“

He shut up, feeling stupid for doing all this in the first place.

This pretty girl was probably already in MIDDLE SCHOOL and what was he? Some dumb little kid with a dumb little crush.

She turned the candy in her hands, staring blankly at the simple shapes before nodding at Dimitri. He exhaled through his nose in response, only to snort. The Prince covered the lower half of his face, mortified.

"Byleth? You got something to say?”

The girl looked up at her father then back to Dimitri who still had his face covered.

“Thank you.”

Red began to spread up his neck, cheeks, and even to the tips of his ears as he let out a garbled you’re welcome. After another awkward second of staring, Dedue came to his rescue by bidding the two farewell then dragged his friend away before he could make a bigger fool of himself.

“You did well.” Dedue whispered, making Dimitri want to groan.

“Please don’t tell anyone…”

“Of course.”

The rest of their night was uneventful as they collected more candy then they could ever eat and went back home, bellies full and aching. Dimitri didn’t touch any of his, too busy groaning into his pillow and wondering what had come over him.

Perhaps he could convince his father to move? Surely it was doable.

Luckily the boy didn’t feel the need to. Not when he found a small bag of Hershey kisses on his side of the garden, right next to his flower gap where he’d sit and stare.

He wasn’t sure if he should look deeper into the meaning, but the gift made his heart soar all the same.

#dimitri fire emblem #dimitri x byleth #fbyleth #halloween #cute #ficlet #fe3h #fe #fire emblem au #modern #prowlotherstuff

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getothefashion · 5 years ago

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deliacanady30-blog · 6 years ago

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themadmia · 2 years ago

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phoenixmakeswords · 6 years ago

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This Thing Needs A Name Ch.1

I thought I might share the first chapter of the AU I’m working on with y’all. I’m actually enjoying writing this more than I thought I would. TW: CSA mention (nothing graphic) and brief anxiety attack.

The icy December wind cuts through my clothes as I make my way down 23rd street to The Inked Moose. I hate winter. Especially Chicago winter. If I had any sense, I would’ve driven my car, but I never claimed to be smart. Ask my mama; she’ll say the same thing.

Stepping inside the tattoo shop feels like coming home. I'm more familiar with the bright orange walls, black tile floor, and lime green ceiling than I am with almost any other place in the city. The eclectic décor is mostly local artwork that’s also for sale. Herbert the moose is the exception to the rule. Sporting oversized, green novelty sunglasses, he watches over the lobby from his place behind the front desk. Mardi Gras beads hang from his massive antlers.

I'm too early. I know that. But I'm always early.

Ransom, my regular artist, smiles warmly when he sees me. He’s honestly the most beautiful man in the city. I'm not just sayin’ that ‘cause he does amazing tattoos for me either. I could get lost in those jade eyes of his. I’d love to knot my fingers in that curly black hair of his and kiss him breathless. I’d be lying if I said he isn’t in my fantasies every time I jack off.

I deal with the paperwork and browse the variety of plugs and tunnels in the display case. I could probably do the paperwork in my sleep. I don’t want to bother him while he’s working.

“You know, we’re actually needing help,” the owner, Riley, remarks casually.

“How’d you know I'm needin’ a new job?” I’ve lived here since I was thirteen but I haven’t managed to trade my New Orleans accent for that of Chicago yet.

“I didn’t. I can get you an app while you wait on Ransom. It’s not an artist’s position. You’d be the receptionist. Still interested?”

“Riley, I’d live here if I could.”

Filling out the app takes the perfect amount of time. Ransom’s finished the sketch just as I’ve finished the app.

“Like it?” he asks, toying with his blue Star of David necklace. He does this when he’s nervous. I think it’s cute.

I'm in love with it. The Falcon tattoo looks awesome!

“Let’s do it,” I grin.

I watch eagerly as he sets up. This is when my nerves really set in. He looks perfectly at home here. He hums softly to himself as he gets the inks out. He’s taped a picture of the Falcon to the cabinet so he can match the colors.

“You look terrified,” he remarks.

“I am. This is gonna hurt.” I set my glasses on the guest chair so I don’t send them flying when I take my hoodie and t-shirt off. It makes me nervous for another reason. I'm half-naked with the guy I have a thing for.

Once the transfer’s been placed and my skin’s clean, I lie on my left side in the chair, facing the wall. I have other ink. I’ve gotten all of it from him. But none of it’s been on my ribs.

“So, we might be working together?” he asks, starting his machine.

“Yeah. I'm still going to school too.” I swear I can feel the needles vibrating in my bones. It hurts! I thought it was painful when he tattooed over the tendon in my forearm on my phoenix. Nope, this is worse.

“What happened with the bakery? I thought you were happy. You good?”

“I fucked up. Yeah, I'm good.”

“What’d you do, Kris?”

“Slept with the brother of one of my coworkers. Now the guy’s bein’ a complete jerk to me.”

“You are going to get the crap beat out of you one day for that. What if the guy has a boyfriend and you don’t know it?”

“Well, I guess I'm screwed.”

He chuckles softly at that, a low rumble in his chest.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” I tell him. I'm starting to get used to the pain. I wish I could watch; watching him do the tattoo helps.

“Oh, yeah? What’s up, buttercup?” Amusement flickers in his eyes.

“I like you.”

“That’s not a question.” He sounds confused. Go me.

“How do you feel about hookups?”

He worries his full lower lip between his teeth for several heartbeats. I’ve gone too far. I’ve screwed up the one good thing I had going for me. He might never want to tattoo me again.

“Friends with benefits?” he asks quietly, wiping off excess ink and rubbing my skin with Vaseline.

“Yeah.”

“Alright, if this is fucked-up, it’s your fault. You completely derailed my brain.” He sighs softly as he touches the needles back to my skin.

“My tattoo or us?”

“Both.”

“You don’t have guys asking to sleep with you all the time?” The idea surprises me. Surely I'm not the only guy who thinks he’s hot.

“Not generally, no. Tonight?”

“Your place or mine?”

“Mine.” A slight smile plays at his lips as he works.

We both lapse into silence for a bit. I can hear Kaiden and Raphael, the other two artists, working on their own respective clients. The buzzing of the machines is a comforting sound to me. Too bad white noise machines don’t have tattoo machine noises as an option; they might actually help me sleep then. The Kids Aren’t Alright plays from the speakers and I hum along to it softly.

“So, which do you like? Top, bottom, or doesn’t matter?” he asks quietly, stirring me from my thoughts.

“Bottom, usually. I don’t mind topping once in a while.”

“That works. I’ve almost got the outside outlined. If you need a break, you tell me, alright? You know that.”

“I'm good for right now.”

“I think they interviewed your sister about being a piercer.”

“You’re kiddin’.”

“Serious as a heart attack. You guys don’t look alike.”

“I look like Mama. She looks like him.” I can’t help the extra emphasis I put on the word. It’s all caps in my head. Has been for years.

“Him being your dad?”

“Yeah. Fuckin’ perverted bastard.”

“Whoa. Chill with the ice before you give me frostbite.” He pauses to scoot closer, leaning over me as he works. I don’t know if it’s the hand a couple inches above my hip or the sudden closeness, but I can’t breathe.

“Break.” I barely choke the word out. He leans back immediately.

“You okay?” He sounds worried.

“Gimme a minute. Please.” Shutting my eyes, I try to remember how to breathe. I don’t need to have an anxiety attack. There’s no reason for me to freak out like this. It’s Ransom. He’s not going to attack me.

“You alright?” he asks gently.

“Anxiety.”

“Did I do it or did what we were talking about do it?”

“I don’t know.” It’s several moments before I can breathe again. He doesn’t complain, though. “You can go ahead.”

“Are you still liking your classes?” He goes back to work.

“They’re not bad. I'm excited to graduate, though.”

“Still planning on opening a bakery?”

“Of course. If I ever don’t want to, I'm probably an alien.”

“Do you wanna just come home with me after my shift?”

“Sounds good.”

I don’t complain of it hurting until he starts filling the tattoo in. The pain is more constant now, more of a pulsing throb in each of my ribs. I don’t ask for another break. I don’t want another break.

I exhale shakily in relief once he’s done. I hadn’t realized how tense I was until my muscles relax.

“You needed another break,” he remarks, cleaning my new ink gently. I flinch each time he touches my tender skin.

“I didn’t want one.”

“You’re impossible.” The smirk’s audible in his voice. “Wanna see it? Can I take a pic?”

It looks awesome! It looks straight out of one of the movies, which makes sense ‘cause that’s where the reference pic came from. I love it.

“You rocked it,” I grin, knocking my knuckles against his. His face lights up at the praise.

He doesn’t say anything until after he takes the picture on his phone.

“I'm glad you like it. Remember your aftercare instructions?” he says, pressing Saniderm sheets over the Vaseline-coated tattoo one sheet at a time.

“I might need an extra set of hands covering it. I think I’ve got them memorized.”

“I’ve got Saniderm at home, but you’ll have to get more salve. Not sharing that.”

“You’re willin’ to fuck me but not share your tattoo salve?” I wince as I slide my shirts back on.

“That’s what condoms are for.”

I dig out my wallet and press a fifty dollar bill into his palm.

“That goes in my new car fund,” he jokes, stuffing it into the front pocket of his tight black skinny jeans.

“I’ll be up front, okay?” I squeeze his hand tentatively. He smiles shyly in response.

I buy a couple little jars of tattoo salve before making myself at home in one of the plush chairs in the lobby. This is my biggest piece so far, so I know I’ll go through a lot of salve.

I glance anxiously at my phone once I get comfortable. I haven’t heard from my family since last weekend when I came out as gay. I’ve sent texts, but all I’ve gotten is radio silence. And it hurts. It twists inside me and wraps around my heart and digs in with little thorns until I can barely stand it. “Ready to go?” Ransom asks, startling me. He’s 6’3” and as silent as a housecat. “Sorry. Are you okay?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” I just want him to fuck me. And then on tomorrow night, Clare and I will go out and I can drink and forget for a little bit.

“You look pretty upset.” He puts on his coat and shoves a red beanie over his curly hair.

“Drop it. Okay?” The good mood I had when I got here has evaporated.

I barely say a word on the drive to his apartment. I might tell him. I might not. I’ll probably tell Clare later; I tell her everything.

“I'm not sure how you like doing this, but I wouldn’t mind spending a little time with you first,” he remarks in the elevator.

“I don’t really care for porn.”

“I was meaning dinner and talking to you. Not just screwing your brains out.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what I need right now.” I sigh in relief when the elevator stops. I just wanna have sex and feel a little less shitty than I do right now.

“Are you mad at me?”

“It’s not you.”

I barely wait until he’s locked the apartment door behind us before I'm kissing him hungrily. I have to stretch to kiss him; he’s almost a foot taller than I am. He hesitates a moment before he kisses me back. His lips taste like pina colada.

“Have you been drinkin’?” I ask, pulling back. I'm not a rapist. I'm not a monster.

“Lip balm. Like it?” He guides me gently to his white couch. I don’t want gentle. Right now, I don’t need gentle.

“Yeah.”

“Kris, if this is some convoluted self-harm thing, we’re not doing anything tonight. I’m not helping you fuck yourself up.”

“I’m already fucked up. I don’t need help.” I glare at him irritably. I wish he’d quit trying to therapize me and get with the screwing.

“What changed? If you think I’m gonna spread nasty rumors or blackmail you or some shit like that, I’m not. I don’t do that.” He traces the outline of my phoenix tattoo with his forefinger.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. Alright? I asked you to drop it, so fuckin’ drop it.” My voice breaks pathetically. Great. Now he’s gonna think I’m moody and pitiful.

“Are you hungry? I’m gonna eat before we do anything, okay?”

“Go ahead. I’m fine.” I haven’t felt like eating for a couple days. I should probably eat something, but it feels like too much effort.

“If you change your mind, just say something.” He squeezes my knee gently before going to the kitchen.

I pull out my phone as soon as he’s gone. Nothing. My messages have been delivered but not answered. I feel like wrapping myself in a blanket and disappearing for a while. Maybe if I’d had some idea this was going to happen, it wouldn’t be as bad. I mean, it’d still be soul-sucking and depressing, but I could’ve at least anticipated. Instead, I’ve been blindsided.

And I feel like absolute crap. He’s nice. Like, he might be the most considerate guy I’ve been with.

“I don’t usually do this,” I murmur, snuggling against him.

“Do what? Stay the night or sleep with your tattoo artist?” He runs his fingers carefully through my hair. Like I might break if he’s anything but gentle.

“Both. I, um, I usually go home. After—After what happened, it’s hard for me to stay the night. Plus, I don’t exactly have the greatest taste in men. No offense. You’re great.” I tense as I wait for him to pepper me with questions. I don’t like talking about why I live in Chicago and not New Orleans. Why I don’t feel safe ever going back. Why I have nightmares so bad I wake up screaming. I don’t want to explain. I don’t feel like explaining. But he’ll ask, so I’ll answer.

“Is there anything I can do to make it less scary? You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

I raise up to stare at him in shock.

“You’re serious?” I whisper.

“Of course.” He brushes his thumb gently along my cheekbone.

“This wasn’t what I expected.”

“The sex or me wanting to help you?”

“The last one.” I go back to lying against his chest.

I hadn’t expected him to care about how big of a deal this is to me. It’s kind of nice.

#my writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #alternate universe #original fiction #original fanfiction #lgbt romance #lgbt fiction #first chapter #kris is a mess

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