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piedinthepiper · 10 months

Text

You owe me ☆

Mafia!Jungkook x psychologist!reader

Summary: It’s your job to help people, but is he really suffering? At least it’s a case of the crazy and obsessive syndrome.

Warnings: yandere!Jungkook, dub con, guilt tripping, description of murder and crime, mention of stalking, cursing, weapons (one singular gun), mention of male masturbation, descriptive smut, probably wrong use of psychological terms (oopsie)

Wc: 6.9k

A/n: This is my first post on my bts fic blog! If you like it please show your support! Don’t be a silent reader! My requests are open, share your ideas!

Disclaimer: This is 100% fiction. I am in no way saying that this is how any member of bts would act. Nor do I condone the actions detailed in the story. This is purely for entertainment purposes only. If any of the warnings trigger you, or you’re under 18 ¡do not read! I’m not your mother, and I don’t take any accountability for what you decide to read online!

Another disclaimer: I am not a licensed psychologist! Everything related to psychology in this fic is off Google, do not use this to diagnose yourself or anyone else!

Parts: | 1 | 2 |

He clutched the gun close to his chest. Hiding it under his pyjamas. His fathers words ringing in the back of his mind. “Your brother is too soft for this industry, but you son, you’re my perfect descendant.”

He walked into his family’s suite. It was dark, except for one light in the living room. His mother sat there head propped up on her hand reading a book.

“What are you doing up so late, baby?”

She asked, putting the book down in her lap and taking off her reading glasses. He looked over at the white sofa placed next to the large windows. His brother was sleeping there peacefully. Not aware of his presence.

“I let your brother sleep in the living room tonight. His nightmares have returned.”

She continued when he didn’t answer her. He slowly turned his eyes towards his mother again.

“Weak.”

He answered lowly. Her look turned concerned.

“Is something wrong, baby?

His eyes continued to stare at her. He didn’t move a muscle, not yet.

“You know I don’t like it when you look at me like that.”

She continued when he yet again didn’t answer. There was a sturdiness to her voice now. The kind of sturdiness mothers have before scolding you. He started smiling. Not in a sweet innocent way. Not in the way 11 year olds should. But in a sinister and dark way. His hand moved out of his pyjamas top. She looked at the object in his hand.

“Drop that gun right now, Jungkook!”

A scream. Three shots. And silence.

15 years later

“Your patient is here.”

Your assistant, Erin, said through the slightly ajar door to your office. You looked up from your lunch. Quickly glancing over at the stationary computer to check the time.

“I don’t have an appointment. Not in another thirty minutes.”

Erin looked back to the waiting room before slowly stepping inside the office. Closing the door quietly behind her. She walked closer to you.

“He’s been sitting here for an hour already. I told him his appointment wasn’t until 1 pm. He just said ‘I know’ and sat down.”

She hurriedly whispered afraid of whoever was sitting out there.

“Please, Erin. Don’t act like he’s crazy. Send him in, I’ll eat later.”

She gave you a look before holding up two fingers. The signal that the two of you created. Working as a psychologist you meet with all sorts of people. Even criminals. The signal signalised that she would call the police if you hit the button that called directly to the front desk.

“Stop it, there will be no need to call the police. He’s harmless.”

“If you say so.”

She shrugged and walked out the door. The next time it opened a familiar figure entered.

“Good afternoon, Doctor.”

“You’re early Mr. Jeon.”

You had been treating Jungkook Jeon for a little over a month now. And you had come to the conclusion that he had PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder. After he had witnessed a series of murders and crimes during his childhood. He was vague about the past, but a few things came out here and there. You only knew about his absent father and that his brother and mother had both been killed. No description of how or when. Which is common at first. It’s hard to re-live your trauma.

“I’m sorry I disturbed your lunch. Just eat, I don’t mind.”

He said as he sat down in the white sofa across your desk. You gave him a small smile as you reached into your drawer.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll eat after our session.”

You said as you fished his file up and opened it on you desk. You quickly read your notes from the last session as you continued talking.

“How are you doing? Still having nightmares?”

You looked up from the file maintaining eye contact as he answered your question.

“Sometimes, but not as often as before. I dream of you instead now.”

His eyes never left yours as he bit his lip, playing with his piercing he had there. You nodded.

“How often do you dream about me? And what are the dreams about?”

You asked as you scribbled it down in your notes.

“Every now and then they occur. Especially after our sessions. Or after I read your books. You’re a good writer Dr. y/l/n.”

He started smiling. His smile wasn’t sweet, it was different from how he had smiled at you before.

“As for what they’re about, I don’t think you’d want to know, Doctor.”

You tried concealing your confusion at his last statement. Curiosity taking over you.

“Dreaming about people you frequently surround yourself with is not uncommon. If you don’t like to talk about it we don’t have to. I would just like to know if they’re good or bad dreams.”

He nodded, still not breaking his smile nor the eye contact.

“Oh they’re good, Doctor. Don’t worry.”

You smiled back at him.

“That’s good to know. I’m glad to hear your nightmares are slowly being changed with good dreams.”

It went silent for a moment as you wrote down the good news. When you looked up again he wasn’t looking at you anymore, and for some reason you felt relived. His eyes were big and doe like, and when they focused on you for too long you would sometimes feel uneasy. You wondered so what those eyes had experiences in the past.

“What about your sudden outbreaks, are you able to control your anger better?”

He focused on you again the second he heard your voice. His smile returned.

“Sort of, I’ve been letting out the aggression in the gym, after you adviced me to try to stay active. I’ve started boxing.”

You smiled and nodded, writing down boxing in your notes.

“That’s good to hear. It seems that you’re getting better Mr. Jeon, much b-“

“Jungkook, call me Jungkook.”

He interrupted. You stopped and looked at him for a second.

“And no, I’m not cured. I still need you.”

You slowly nodded.

“Well there is no cure for your diagnosis, it’s a matter of being at peace with living with it. But I can understand that you still have things you would want to talk about. Maybe you would like to open up to me about your past?”

The room grew quiet. His eyes now focused on his hands in his lap. His demeanour changed completely.

“I have told you about my past. If I didn’t you wouldn’t have been able to diagnose me in the first place.”

He answered with a bit of underlaying annoyance. You sighed. Something felt off, but you couldn’t figure out what.

“You have told me some parts yes. If you want to go more in detail you can, I’m not forcing you. As your psychologist I would advise talking about it with me. It could be nice to have an outsiders perspective.”

You said in a soft tone. Trying to get your point across at the same time as being gentle. You didn’t want him to feel pressured or as if he had to say anything. When he didn’t open his mouth you understood you crossed his personal line of what he feels fit for you to know. You spoke after almost a minute with silence.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to. You can think about-“

“You’re a smart one.”

He interrupted you again. His eyes raised to meet yours.

“That’s why I like you. You know to some extent what is going on inside my head. I could never do that. I never know what is going on inside your head. If you think I’m weak or even crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy nor weak. It’s not your job to know what is going on inside my head. But it is my job to know what’s going on inside yours.”

He nodded before patting the sofa seat beside him.

“Come here.”

He simply said. You don’t know why, but you had a bad feeling in your stomach. He was acting differently today, compared to other sessions. Either way you got up from your chair, knowing that doing what he said would get you an insight of what you wanted to know. You slowly walked around your desk and sat down in the small sofa next to him. You crossed your legs trying your best not to get too close to him, but he seemed to man spread even more. Making your thighs touch. You placed your notebook in your lap, ready to write down exactly what he told you. He took a hold of your wrist.

“You’re not writing this down, Doctor. I need your full attention.”

It was the first time he had touched you, beside the first time you met when you shook hands. It made you think that you usually never have any sort of physical contact with your patients. Maybe that’s exactly what they need. What he needs to open up to you. You put your notebook down, and continued holding his hand. He looked down at your hands intertwining. Your smooth small hand was a sharp contrast to his bigger tattooed one.

“Tell me whatever you feel comfortable with telling me.”

You said to get his attention back to reality. He went quiet for a few seconds.

“I grew up in a hotel. It was a nice hotel, four stars, good breakfast. My father was almost never home, I didn’t mind though. I had my mother and my brother there. It was perfect in the beginning.”

He stopped. You looked down at his hand, it was shaking. You started drawing small circles at the back of his hand. Trying to calm him down. He looked down at your hands again.

“One night when I was sleeping I was woken up by a loud bang. The door to our home was broken down. A man entered and started shooting. My brother was still sleeping on the sofa and died instantly. My mother reached her gun and shot the man in the shoulder.”

He looked into your eyes.

“But he shot her in the head.”

You nodded, looking down at the floor. You knew he was looking at you, but you couldn’t meet his eyes in that moment.

“Did you find out who that man was? Why he would do such a thing.”

He went quiet again at your question. His grip on your hand tightened, as if what he was going to say would make you pull away.

“He was a mobster. Like my father. After the incident he trained me as the next leader of his group. I was 11.”

You looked at him. His childhood was worse than you thought, but he wasn’t saying all this as if it was a traumatic experience. It seemed like he was bragging about it. You would have to go through your notes and his file after work to see if there was something you were missing about him. You couldn’t jump to conclusions just yet.

“Thank you for telling me.”

You smiled at him. He looked back at you with those big eyes. You looked at the watch on your wrist. The session was over.

“Look at the time.”

You were about to let go of his hand to get up from the sofa. But he grabbed you harder. Forcing you to sit still.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon. But our session is over-“

“I’ve told you to call me Jungkook.”

“Jungkook, I have other patients today as well. We can continue this next week.”

You tried to assure him. He still didn’t let go.

“I’ve never told anyone about this, and you decide to end the session this quickly?”

You grabbed his hand with your other hand as well.

“You know I usually don’t end sessions like this. But I can’t let my other patients wait. You’re free to sit in the waiting room for as long as you want to.”

He frowned at your comment, but relaxed his hand nonetheless. You got off the sofa and walked to your desk again. Before you could say anything else he got up from the sofa and hastily walked out the door. Slamming it shut behind him.

You had two more patients that day. You waved goodbye to your last patient of the day, a young girl named Olive Thomson who was suffering from severe anxiety, as she walked through the door. You got up from your chair and collected your things. You turned off the computer and the light. You made sure to lock the door as you always do. The only thing you had to do now was say goodbye to Erin by the front desk, and you could go home. You walked into the waiting room.

“Finally.”

You turned to find the owner of the voice, as it was clearly not Erin’s.

“Mr. Jeon what are you doing here?”

You asked as you looked at the man seated in one of the waiting chairs.

“I told him he had to leave, I promise.”

You heard Erin whisper behind you.

“You said I could sit here for as long as I wanted to, Doctor. And please, just call me Jungkook.”

He was clearly upset. You remembered your words from earlier, but you didn’t think he would spend almost four hours just sitting there.

“I did, you’re right. I’m leaving now, Erin will be here for another two hours. But after that we’re closed.”

He got up from the chair.

“I was waiting for you.”

He simply said.

“I’m sorry our session ended so brutally, but I promise we’ll talk about it next week.”

You said and patted his shoulder as you walked past him towards the exit.

“Goodbye, Erin!”

You said as you made your way outside. The wind was cold and you clutched your coat closer to you as you walked towards your car.

“The least you can do is eat with me.”

He had followed you outside. You turned to look at him.

“I’m not that hungry, I just want to go home.”

You was going to open your car door, but his hand suddenly blocked the door. You were about to cuss him out. Tired of his antics.

“You haven’t eaten all day, I hardly doubt that one bite you had for lunch filled you up.”

He sounded threatening, something he had started to do recently.

“I just want to hear your thoughts on what I said. Don’t you think you owe me that? Or do I have to wait a week and dread finding out your opinion of me?”

He was desperate, you could see it. What he was saying was true. He would walk around overthinking for the next week and his health could worsen. You had to take action according to your diagnosis.

“Ok, I’ll eat with you.”

The two of you were sitting at some restaurant. The lights were low and to everyone around you, the two of you looked like a couple on a date. This was obviously not something you would do with your patients, you like to keep things professional. Something about this whole situation felt anything but professional.

“Get whatever you want, my treat.”

He said deeply focused on the menu. You shook your head.

“No thank you, I can pay for my own food.”

You answered.

“I’m the one responsible for you not being able to eat your lunch right? You owe me this meeting and I owe you food. Two birds with one stone.”

You sighed when you didn’t have a rebuttal. The two of you ordered, and the silence grew more and more awkward.

“I’m sorry again, Mr. Jeon I’m-“

“Jungkook. Please y/n! Just call me Jungkook!”

He was clearly upset now. You were a bit taken aback from the sudden use of your first name. He had never called you by your first name before. And the feeling of the professionalism fading away became more apparent.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to remember your request.”

“Say it. Say my name.”

For some reason you didn’t feel like you had it in you. It felt so strange to call a patient by their name, the same way it felt weird to be called your name by a patient.

“Jungkook.”

You managed to get it out, but you couldn’t look him in the eye saying it. The food luckily came quickly, you were starving. Plus it saved you from whatever he was going to answer. You decided to take the lead. Wanting to stay on track for the actual reason you said yes to join him.

“You said your father was a mobster. Do you know if he’s still living that lifestyle? Do you have any contact with him?”

You asked after taking a big bite of your pasta. Jungkook swallowed before answering your question.

“My father is dead. He’s been dead for 7 years now.”

A question came to mind, but you didn’t know if you dared ask him. You remember he said his father trained him to the life of crime at a young age. For him to take over his fathers legacy. With his father gone he would be next in line to whatever group his father had built. He got the image. Tattoos, piercings, the black clothes. But you couldn’t imagine him being a mafia boss. Maybe it was some sort of stereotype that strong, tough men don’t go to the psychologist. But you were starting to rethink his intentions.

“You’re thinking about something.”

You looked up from your food. He was staring at you.

“Look at you, you do have the ability to understand my mind.”

You said lightheartedly. He chuckled.

“I think you’re brave. Not many people survive the kind of neglect and trauma you’ve experienced in your childhood.”

You said, trying to give him an answer for his entire life story. He nodded and suddenly reached for your hand across the table. You jumped, but didn’t remove your hand. You didn’t want to make a scene with this many people around.

“I’m fine, y/n. I think the only cure I need is you.”

His statement combined with his eyes staring into your soul, gave you chills down your back. Something was off about him. You had to ask. You just had to.

“When your father died, did you…?”

He smiled. The same sinister smile he smiled at you earlier that day.

“I did. I took over his legacy. Me and my father were actually great friends the years before he died. Not that I cared for him. I don’t think I’ve ever cared for anyone in my entire life.”

Another shot of chills froze your body at his statement. You had overlooked it this entire time. His calm demeanour, his tendency to physically violence, his intelligence and charisma and now his lack of empathy. He didn’t suffer from PTSD, he had been lying this entire time.

“At least not until I met you.”

He interrupted your thoughts. You pulled your hand out of his quickly. You took a deep breath trying to compose yourself.

“That’s nonsense. You must’ve cared for your mother.”

He shrugged.

“Not really, she wasn’t exactly the best mother.”

“You don’t really have those nightmares do you?”

You asked, looking at him. It took him a few seconds to answer. Probably contemplating if he should continue his lies or tell the truth.

“I don’t.”

“You didn’t really have a problem with your mother or brother dying either right?”

He let out a small laugh.

“I just told you.”

“Just answer me.”

He poked his tongue into his cheek and leaned forward onto the table.

“What is this? Are you trying to diagnose me, Doctor?”

He said mockingly.

“Answer me.”

You commanded. He sighed and started smiling at you again.

“Everyone has to die at some point. Doesn’t matter when or how.”

You nodded. Your instinct was true.

“You don’t have PTSD, you have ASPD.”

He licked his lips and cocked his head.

“And what does that mean, Doctor?”

“You’re a sociopath.”

He looked taken aback from your bluntness for a second. He probably wasn’t expecting you to crack his code.

“You’ve lied this entire time for your own personal gain. I must admit your acting was really good. But my question is, what do you want?”

He was quiet for a second. You knew he was fighting a war on the inside.

“I really underestimated you y/n. I knew you were smart, but personally I don’t think PhDs make a person smart by default. You’ve really proven yourself to me.”

“My efforts were not made to impress you. You think too highly of yourself Mr. Jeon.”

His gaze switched, you had aggravated him. Not only by calling him by his last name, but by attacking his self image.

“Why don’t you come home with me, we can continue our conversation there.”

You shook your head, and arranged the cutlery neatly by the side of your half empty plate.

“I do not go home with patients, and I definitely do not go home with mobsters. You have already challenged my professionalism by taking me out to eat.”

He smirked.

“What if I stop being your patient? In all honesty I don’t really need your advice, Doctor.”

You grabbed your bag and got up from your seat.

“In all honesty I think you do. We will continue this conversation in my office next week. Good night Mr. Jeon.”

With that you walked away from the table. Not looking back.

The next few days you were on edge. Constantly overthinking everything that had happened that day with Jungkook. You almost wanted to call in sick. Terrified of what would happen next. But regardless of that you had to continue working. You couldn’t let your other patients get affected by whatever was going on with you. You said goodbye to Mrs. Humphrey. An elderly woman that had fallen into depression after her husband had passed. Once the door closed you fetched your lunch out of your bag. You didn’t feel like eating, but you knew you had to. If not your energy would be drained at the end of the day. After the first bite you started hearing noises outside. Erin was almost yelling outside your door. You stood up, wanting to investigate what the commotion was. Before you could take one step the door swung open. And there he stood, your nightmare for the last couple of days.

“I told him you were busy, Dr. y/l/n! I told him he couldn’t enter!”

Erin said hopelessly behind him. He was soaking wet from the rain. His hair plastered itself to his forehead. And his black shirt did the same to his abdomen. He didn’t move, he was just staring at you with a furious look in his eyes.

“It’s fine, Erin. I’ll handle this.”

Erin looked at Jungkook worriedly before looking back to you. She held up two fingers. You nodded, and she left.

“Sit.”

You said, as you yourself sat down behind your desk. He closed the door behind him, but didn’t sit down. He continued to lure near the door.

“You interrupt my lunch again, I don’t want this to become a habit.”

“Please, spear me the bullshit.”

He said, and you went quiet. Wanting him to say whatever he came here for.

“How did you do it?”

He said after some time. You looked confused at him. Not understanding what he was referring to.

“Did what?”

You asked in almost a sharp tone. You were annoyed. He let out a small laugh, it almost sounded like a sneer.

“You’re cute when you’re angry with me.”

He started slowly walking towards you.

“But I need to know how you did it, y/n.”

He stopped once he reached the end of your desk. You looked up at him.

“What did I do?”

You ask again. He puts his palms on the table and lean closer to you. You don’t move, trying to prove to him and yourself that you’re not scared.

“You figured out a side of me I never understood I had. If I, the person that’s bearing this disease didn’t know. How come you knew?”

You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms. He was clearly distressed. Maybe even more than what you had been for the last days. And for some reason it pleased you.

“I told you, this is what I do. This is my job.”

You could tell he was conflicted in what to do next. You could practically see the way the wheels were turning inside his head. But eventually he sat down.

“I studied the human mind for six years to be able to understand things not even you are aware of.”

He scowled at you as you talked to him in a harsh tone.

“I’ve done research, and I’ve written books about this, that you have read may I add. What made you think that I wasn’t capable?”

He didn’t answer. The two of you just stared at each other.

“This is not a session, I demand answers, Jungkook.”

His eyes lit up when he heard his name fall off your tongue.

“Like I said, I underestimated you.”

He answered short.

“You didn’t answer my other question.”

You stated. He looked confused at you.

“The question from the other night. What do you want?”

He started laughing. You did not find it funny, and watched him as his fit of laughter died down.

“Y/n, you can’t be serious! You’re telling me that you were able to diagnose me with some bullshit, while I was pretending to be something else. But you’re not able to see the fact that I want you.”

The room got quiet. For the first time in a long time you felt completely speechless. He moved to get up from the sofa, but stopped the second he saw you roll your chair further away from him. He could tell you were afraid now, there was no point in acting tough.

“Come here.”

He said with a smirk and patted his thigh this time. There was still fight in you though.

“You’re disgusting.”

You uttered. He sneered at your comment.

“You’ve exploited me for your own satisfaction this entire time.”

You looked strictly at him, as he sighed.

“What was I supposed to do? You’re constantly on my mind. Day and night. And it’s awful!”

“That’s called an obsession.”

“I know what it’s called!”

He bit back. You went quiet, waiting for him to give you more information.

“The only way I can get a break is after i come to the thought of you. It usually takes around three times until I’m too tired to think of you.”

You couldn’t hide your disgust from your facial expression anymore. Looking at him as if he was a rat on the street.

“And then I thought if that helps, the real deal would help even more.”

He got up from the sofa now. You stayed seated, your hand slowly moving across your desk towards the telephone.

“I need you, y/n.”

You broke eye contact and looked down to hit the right number for the front desk. Jungkook quickly understood what happened and pushed the stationary phone off the desk. It fell to the floor with a bang, breaking it on impact. You got up quickly, wanting to distance yourself from him.

“How did you know? About the phone, about me. We never met before our sessions. Why? I don’t understand.”

You blurted out in pure stress of the situation. He smiled as he started walking towards the side of the desk. You walked the other way, wanting to keep the desk between the two of you. He chuckled.

“You’re cute when you’re confused too.”

You continued walking backwards. Trying to keep as much distance from him, while he tries to close it.

“I’ve followed you for a long time, baby. A very long time.”

The two of you had walked an entire round around the desk now. He jumped down onto the sofa again. His hand gracing the sofa cushions beside him.

“Do you want to know the full story?”

You knew what he was hinting at. Your entire body was screaming not to get anywhere near him. But you needed to know. He didn’t have anything to hold back now, you were certain he would tell you the truth. So you walked towards the sofa, carefully sitting down beside him. You took a second to compose yourself before looking at him. Signalising that’s you were ready. He smiled.

“I have known you since we both were children. Your father was my brothers shrink. He´s the one that had PTSD. I saw you for the first time in the hotel lobby after your father had finished his session with my brother. You were maybe 6 and sat there for so long, waiting for your father to return. When I saw you, I knew we were meant to be. We were soulmates. And for the first time in my life I felt something for someone.”

He grabbed your hand. You quickly out of reflex tried to wiggle yourself out of his grip. He tugged your hand harshly towards him and your entire upper body followed. Without your hand to catch you, you fell straight into his chest. His other hand sneaked around your waist as you composed yourself.

“Let me go.”

You said annoyed, placing your hand on his chest to keep a distance.

“If you want to hear the rest, you have to play by my rules, baby.”

His eyes focused on your lips as he whispered to you. You shook your head.

“I don’t need to know the rest. I can make out the sob story on my own. Boy falls in love, boy doesn’t get girl.”

He shook his head and let go of your waist. You quickly sat back up, brushing off imaginary dust from your lap.

“You should show me some respect.”

He said with a serious tone. You rolled your eyes and crossed your eyebrows.

“I’m not scared of you.”

He chuckled at your comment, placing his hand around the back of the sofa.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me either. I just think that you should show the man you owe your life to some respect.”

He touched your shoulder, drawing small circles on your jumper.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

He smirked.

“Oh, but you do. I made you the person you are today. Without me you wouldn’t be here.”

You sighed tiredly at him.

“You’re unbelievable.”

You got up from your seat and walked back to your desk. Starting to pack up your stuff. You were so done with him. He needed help, but you would no longer treat him. You decided as much.

“I need to get out of here, if you’re not gone when I’m back I’ll call the police.”

You put your bag over your shoulder, ready to walk away.

“How did you get into Yale, Doctor?”

He asked out of the blue. You stopped in your tracks.

“What? Why?”

He shrugged.

“Just seems so weird that someone with your grades would be able to attend any Ivy League school. Don’t you agree?”

You went quiet. Not knowing where he wanted this conversation to go.

“And don’t you think it’s weird how you always got A’s even when you were out partying instead of studying?”

You thought back to the years when you were studying. You originally did only apply to Yale just because your father went there. You didn’t think you actually was going to make it, because your grades were mediocre.

“What are you saying?”

“You have no idea how many people I had to blackmail to get you there. How many men I had follow you constantly. How many professors I had to bribe to make them give you a good grade. I’ve spent millions on you, y/n!”

Your mind was racing. You didn’t understand anything. Was your entire life a lie?

“I have to give it to you. Your first book made it without my help. But when you came out with your second book, and it wasn’t a success right away. I bought almost half the copies and payed a hefty amount of money to make it a New York Times best seller.”

You dropped your bag in awe. What he was saying made a lot of sense. You started rethinking every significant moment in your life. Wondering if he was behind it all. He got up from his seat and started moving towards you. But this time you didn’t step back. You let him come close to you.

“I’ve done so much for you, baby. Why are you so ungrateful?”

You looked up at him. He was now standing right in front of you. So close that you could almost feel his breath on your skin.

“I didn’t ask you to do any of this. You can’t keep me in debt for something I-“

You struggled with continuing the sentence. The reality of his words hit you, and your tears threatened to spill.

“It’s ok, baby. I’m not asking for much, considering what I’ve given you.”

He whispered calmly. His hands found your waist. He took one step closer to you and placed his forehead against yours.

“All I want is you, right here on this sofa, showing me how grateful you are.”

You couldn’t hold your tears in anymore, letting them slowly drip down your cheeks. One of his hands abandoned your waist to wipe away the hot tears on your cheek. You looked into his eyes as he continued to hold your face.

“If I do it, will you leave me alone?”

His eyes focus on your lips and how close you were. He had never been this close to you.

“I can never leave you. You’re my soulmate.”

He simply answered. You looked down at the floor.

“Jungkook, you’re delusional. You have to stop.”

“How can I stop? Huh? You’re the only one that matters in my life!”

You continued looking at the floor, even when he pushed himself off you in his fit of rage.

“I fucking love you!”

You shook your head, looking up at him this time.

“You don’t love me! You don’t even know me! You’ve created this illusion in your head that we are meant to be, but we’re not!”

You yelled back at him angrily.

“You’ve interfered in my life when I didn’t ask you to! You don’t have the right to do that!”

“And where would you be without me?”

He argued back.

“You act like you don’t care! But you know that without my help you wouldn’t be anything. You would’ve been a nobody.”

His words stung. What he was saying was the truth. The hard truth. You would have never made it to college. Never gotten this job. Never been a successful author. Never followed in your fathers footsteps and made him proud. You heard Jungkook sigh.

“I’m sorry baby, but it’s the truth.”

He said dejectedly. You took a deep breath. Realising what you had to do.

“I’ll do it.”

You simply said and met his eyes.

“I’ll have sex with you once, but after this I need you to stop.”

“Baby-“

“Listen to me! I’ll find you another psychologist. I want you to go to there and get help. When your treatment is over-“

You stopped for a second. Contemplating if you wanted to commit to the promise you were about to make.

“I’ll meet you again. To talk. I can’t promise you more than that.”

His eyes lit up and he swiftly lifted you in a hug. Letting out small sounds of excitement and shaking you around a little. You couldn’t help but smile at his boyish action. After a moment he put you down again, but continued to hold your waist.

“I’ll do whatever you say, baby. I’ll do anything for you.”

Your hands found his strong chest. You kept the eye contact, but your eyes couldn’t help but flick down to his lips for a split second. And that’s all he needed to kiss you. It started slow, but quickly got hotter. Your hands slid around his neck, unconsciously pulling him deeper into the kiss. He stepped backwards. You were taken aback by the sudden movement, but followed his lead. He guided the two of you to the sofa. The same sofa he had sat in every time he came to your sessions. He broke the kiss to jump down on the sofa. He looked up at you with nothing but lust in his eyes. He had been waiting for this for many years, and finally he had you. He reached out for you as you straddled his lap, feeling his already hard cock between the fabric of your trousers. His hands moved down to your ass. Grabbing it the second he had a chance, and letting out a satisfied groan. You reached down to the hem of your top and pulled it off.

“You’re so fucking hot.”

He said with half lidded eyes as he watched your bare skin. You smirked at his comment and reached for his shirt as well. He lifted his back off the sofa to help you get it off. Once it was off you started examining his tattoos. Tracing his arm with your finger all the way up to his shoulder. You stopped once you saw the little circular scar. Your entire body froze as you remembered his words from your last session. “My mother reached her gun and shot the man in the shoulder. But he shot her in the head.”. He looked at you confused for a second, before he looked at his shoulder where your eyes were glued. He understood what you were thinking.

“You killed your family.”

You said and looked back at him. He was already shaking his head.

“The man was you. You killed them.”

You tried to get up from his lap, suddenly scared of the killer you were straddling. But he held you down with a strong grip.

“Baby calm down, let me explain.”

You continued to struggle. Not listening to his words.

“Y/n!”

He suddenly screamed. Getting your attention. He sighed.

“I didn’t kill them.”

“I don’t fucking believe you.”

You started struggling again, now hitting his chest as well. He quickly flipped the two of you. Pushing you down onto the sofa with his own body weight. Holding your wrists harshly.

“So what if I killed them? It doesn’t take away from the fact that you still owe me this!”

He looked dangerous on top of you like that. A single tear fell down the side of your cheek. He was right yet again. He kissed you tenderly. It was a sharp contrast to the tone in his voice.

“You still owe me your body.”

He started kissing down your neck. Eagerly taking one of your boobs in his hand. His crotch grinded against you for a second before you heard him curse under his breath.

“I’ll have to taste you another time. I can’t fucking wait any longer to be inside you.”

He started working on your jeans. Ripping them off in a hasty speed together with your panties. He quickly loosened his belt and repeated the action on himself. His cock sprung free, but you weren’t able to look at it for more than a second before he lifted your legs over his shoulders and pushed into you. The two of you moaned in unison. He was big, but he took little to no time for you to adjust, as he started thrusting into you with brutal force.

“You’re so fucking tight.”

He moaned, stopping his motion to spit on your pussy. Using it as lubricant. He continued quickly after. Moans and heavy breathing filled your office as the two of you strived to reach your orgasms. He reached down and started rubbing your clit. Almost overstimulating you.

“I’ve waited for this for so long, baby. You feel better than I ever imagined.”

You felt a familiar knot building in your lower stomach. The rapid speed of his hands and the stretching of his cock making you come closer to release quicker than ever.

“I need to come inside you. I need to fill you up, baby.”

You nodded. Not knowing or caring what you said yes to. You were already on cloud nine and needed him to continue whatever he was doing.

“Say my name.”

You understood he was close, and you were too.

“Jungkook!”

You moaned as your orgasm washed over you. You legs clenched around him, and your hands found his arms. Digging your nails into his skin. He came the second he heard his name escape your mouth. He let you ride out your orgasm, before he fell on top of you. You felt his breath go back to normal as he nuzzled into your neck. The two of you laid there in serenity for a while. Just feeling each others heartbeats and listening to each others breathing.

He would do as you told him. He would go see someone. He would do whatever it took to have you like that again. He would never let you go. You owed him this after all.

Thank you for reading! Do you want to read more?

Masterlist

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thatsexcpisces · 9 months

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Gifts to get the moon signs for Christmas 🎄🤍

°❆⛄⋆.ೃ࿔🦌*:･❄️ °❆⛄⋆.ೃ࿔🦌*:･❄️ °❆⛄⋆.ೃ࿔🦌*:･❄️

Aries moon: clothing and items for the gym and working out, bold accessories that make them stand out, hats, earrings, tickets or a class for their favorite activity or take them on any fun adventure, new car (if you wanna go big), fancy mirrors, watch, strong fragrance, trendy gadgets

Taurus moon: jewelry, luxuriously-presented items, something cozy and for the home, a spa day voucher, soft blanket, cute slippers, beauty products, skin and self care items

Gemini moon: cute journals to write down their thoughts, entertaining card/games (ex. cards against humanity), stationary, technology, thought-provoking gifts, their favorite book collections.

Cancer moon: cooking set, something sentimental and hand-made (ex. a scrapbook of all your memories together), a comfy robe to lounge in, recipe book, candles and stuff for the home

Leo moon: gifts related to their interests whether musical or hobbies in general. ex., if they love lana del rey get them a vinyl collection of her music or a poster of her. designer clothing, something extravagant and unique, tickets to their favorite musical or show.

Virgo moon: organized home planners, plants, cookbook, antiques, cleaning gadgets, home fragrances, books on getting organized and lifestyle advice, gift cards for home goods stores or their fav stores in general, maybe even get them a small pet to keep company!

Libra moon: designer handbags, books on fashion, good-quality perfumes, beauty items, fancy soaps, silk scarves or pajama sets, luxury brand shoes, fancy decorations for their living space

Scorpio moons: spiritual gifts, something personal from you, leather/ dark colored clothing, pampering gifts, marble items, brand sunglasses, ruled by Pluto; get them an elegant version of whatever they generally like; if they like gold jewelry, get them a carefully-selected box of fancy gold rings or something like that.

Sagittarius moons: gifts brought from a foreign country, something unique, plane tickets to a country they’ve always wanted to go to, travel picture book to record their journeys, good- quality camera, laptop, money, practical gifts

Capricorn moons: expensive things (I mean it’s a Capricorn moon here 💀), money in an envelope, gift cards to high-end stores, good chocolates, wine, and other specialty gourmet items, functional coffee machine, items to relieve stress (back-massager tool, etc), self-help books

Aquarius moons: technology, new phone, computer, Apple headphones, vintage record player, art materials, something no one else has, something related to their humanitarian or quirky interests, trivia games

Pisces moon: dream journal, thoughtful gifts, paintings, adult coloring books or stuff for arts and crafts, cute headphones, their favorite album and CD’s, something that encourages creativity, collection of bath salts and fragrances, meditation/yoga tools, locket necklace, fluffy blankets and pillows

Thank you for reading hope y’all have a good holiday! 🫶🎁🌟

°❆⛄⋆.ೃ࿔🦌*:･❄️ °❆⛄⋆.ೃ࿔🦌*:･❄️ °❆⛄⋆.ೃ࿔🦌

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literaryvein-reblogs · 1 month

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How about words related to infinity? I am obsessed with the thought of it.

It really is such a fascinating concept, isn't it?

Infinity—the quality of being endless; extending indefinitely

Abiding - continuing for a long time; enduring

Abysmal - having immense or fathomless extension downward, backward, or inward

Aeonian - lasting for an immeasurably or indefinitely long period of time; aeonic

Bottomlessness - the quality of being boundless, unlimited

Boundlessness - having no boundaries; vast

Ceaseless - continuing without cease; constant

Deathlessness - quality of being immortal, imperishable

Endlessness - being or seeming to be without end

Eternity - the quality or state of being eternal (i.e., having infinite duration)

Everlasting - lasting or enduring through all time; eternal

Fathomlessness - incapability of being fathomed; immeasurable

Foreverness - eternity

Illimitability - incapable of being limited or bounded; measureless

Immeasurable - indefinitely extensive

Immenseness - the quality of transcending ordinary means of measurement

Immortality - the quality or state of being immortal; unending existence

Imperishable - enduring or occurring forever

Incalculable - not capable of being calculated

Incomputable - not computable; very great

Indefinite - having no exact limits

Indissoluble - incapable of being annulled, undone, or broken; permanent

Inestimable - incapable of being estimated or computed

Inexpungible - incapable of being obliterated

Infinitude - the quality or state of being infinite; infiniteness

Interminableness - having or seeming to have no end

Limitlessness - boundlessness

Perenniality - the quality of being persistent, enduring

Permanence - the quality or state of being permanent; durability

Permanency - something continuing or enduring without fundamental or marked change; stable

Perpetuity - the quality or state of being everlasting; continuing forever

Persistent - continuing without change in function or structure

Sempiternity - eternity

Stationary - unchanging in condition

Steadfast - not subject to change

Stubbornness - quality of being unreasonably or perversely unyielding; mulish

Timelessness - having no beginning or end; eternal

Undying - not dying; immortal, perpetual

Unfaltering - not wavering or weakening; firm, steadfast

Unvarying - not exhibiting change or variation; not varying

Vastitude - immensity, vastness

Hope this helps with your writing. Do tag me, or send me a link. I'd love to read your work!

More: Word Lists

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leohttbriar · 5 months

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actually an interesting contradiction in jadzia dax's character is that she's very much one of those characters who you could imagine plopping down in the middle of an alien world and having a whale of a time looking and touching and observing and whatnot but, with the story that she's in, she's pretty stationary as a character. and a smidge of this contradiction is related to my whining that they didn't give her enough weird sciency-stuff to do in the show, but most of this Thing about her is that it's a bit of an explanation of her character in summary: she is a multiplicity, she is many lived and personed, she is curious and adventurous, but when she commits to something she commits. she plants her feet and says i will.

#best character ever i love her #jadzia dax #star trek #ds9 #thoughts inspired by the little mermaid kiradax fic

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rip-quizilla · 2 months

Text

Impossible to Hate You ~ Part 7

Pairing: Eddie Munson X fem!Reader

Summary: The perfect date, the perfect gift

Word Count: 5.2 K

A/N: Appropriately, this is being posted on the eve of Christmas in July! Eddie & Ace deserve this dose of fluff after almost a year of pining for each other. I hope you enjoy it! Who knows how long the warm fuzzies will last...

Divider was created by @hellfire--cult ❤️

Part 7

Winter, 1983

Eddie couldn’t remember the last time he had argued with himself to this degree.

He knew it was probably strange that he did most of his thinking in the shower, but there was something about standing stationary as hot water pelted his back and shoulders that put him in an almost meditative state. His inner monologue lectured silently in his mind as his fingers worked sudsy shampoo through his wetted locks.

On the one hand, he had finally admitted to himself that he liked you- like, really liked you- and asked you out on a date for that reason. His heart was doing a little happy dance just thinking about it- he’d asked a girl that he had a crush on out on a date, and she’d said yes! This had never happened before! He should be celebrating!

And yet, on the other hand, the side of himself that remembered the vow of platonicity that he’d taken when your friendship had just begun was furious with him right now. He remembered why he’d promised to put his friendship with you above any other… developments that had the potential to happen. He still remembered how it shook him to his core to see Alan and his harpy girlfriend stare at you as if you were prey for their sick entertainment. It was selfish of him to be willing to put your reputation on the line simply because he couldn’t keep his feelings in check.

Eddie wanted you- that much was obvious. But he also wanted to keep you safe.

When he shut off the water, the sudden silence in the room made Rick’s words from last year echo in his head even louder- “Don’t tell me if she asked, you wouldn’t be all over that.” Eddie had laughed the question off, assuming there was no point in answering because there was no way you would ever ask in the first place. No way in hell a smart girl like you would ever go for a guy like him.

Eddie toweled himself off in front of the small vanity mirror above the sink, looking himself in the eyes as he grappled with the truth that he was still struggling to believe. She likes you. He thought to his reflection. She thinks you’re smart, she thinks you’re funny, and most importantly, she thinks you’re worth a damn. He shook his head softly, still barely comprehending it himself. Are you really about to pass on a chance like this because you’re scared you can’t protect her?

Eddie Munson had never been lucky. He’d never been someone that good things just happen to. Any good thing in his life had been taken, borrowed or earned. No blessing was ever gifted to him for free.

Until you came along.

Your friendship had only begun because you’d seen things in him that only a select few in his life had ever cared to notice- you looked at him and saw someone who was kind, protective, intelligent, creative… a good person. Even Eddie couldn’t decide if he was good or not sometimes, but he always strived to be. No teacher, no friend’s parent, no adult that wasn’t directly related to him at least had seen that either, not for a long time.

But you saw him. Your family saw him. For crying out loud, when he couldn’t even get his own father to claim him as his pride and joy, your parents were actually proud of him. You made him feel like he belonged.

That realization solidified his decision. Life had handed him a really, really good thing when it dropped you into his life and he was not about to run away because he was scared he wouldn’t measure up.

He deserved to let himself have something good.

“What time did you say he’s picking you up again?”

Robin’s voice was muffled, knee-deep in the mess she’d made of your closet.

“Eight,” you repeated for the third time since you’d both woken up from your impromptu sleepover on the couch, bleary-eyed and squinting at the idle blue television screen that had appeared hours ago after the final credit of The Dark Crystal had rolled.

“Perfect!” said Robin, “That should give us long enough to pick the perfect outfit for… whatever Eddie Munson plans for a first date.”

“Robin, it’s eleven thirt- OOF!” You were cut short by a dress that hit you square in the face, followed by a sweater and a pair of boots being shoved into your arms by your best friend.

“Try these on, I know it’s cold but you could layer… Do you know if you guys will be outside?”

“He wouldn’t plan something outside, would he?” you asked, suddenly concerned. “I mean you don’t think he’d take me, like, hiking, right?”

Robin snorted. “If Eddie tries to take you on a little stroll through the woods in the dead of night, all bets are off. Get the hell out of there, mission aborted.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. While there were probably some people in Hawkins who really did believe that worrying Eddie Munson might drag you to the woods at night to sacrifice you to some dark god or something was a valid, rational fear, you knew better. Eddie was a lot of things, but outdoorsy he was not.

Before you knew it, you’d joined Robin in your closet, taking dresses, jeans, blouses, and boots in your hands and laying them out on your bed in different combinations. You compared each outfit against the other in a drawn out game of trial and error in pursuit of the perfect look for your date tonight, pausing only for snack breaks and to change the tape that played from your cassette player on the dresser.

Brushing off the events of yesterday was easy when you thought about what was looking up for you- you were going on a date tonight with Eddie Munson. This was what you’d been hoping for since the spring! Good things were happening for you.

In the light of so much good, it was pretty hard for you to focus on the bad.

Eddie stood on your doorstep, hands shoved in his pockets to shield them from the cold. Now that Hawkins was deep into December, a frosty layer of snow blanketed the surface of the ground, and the air still held just enough chill to preserve it for days on end. He freed one hand just long enough to deliver seven decisive knocks to the front door.

Dun-dun-dudun-dun… dun-dun.

Your heart rate doubled its pace when you heard it; you took a steadying breath before squeezing the handle of your front door and swinging it open.

For a moment, time stood still. You both knew you should say something, should do something… but all you could do was take in the sight of each other, still shaken with disbelief that tonight was really happening.

Eddie wore all black, which wasn’t uncommon for him. Though he seemed… cleaner, somehow. Like he’d made an effort to hand pick the nicest black pieces in his closet. The only pop of color he wore was a red wool scarf wrapped haphazardly around his neck. It rested snugly under the collar of his leather jacket, and you remembered how the smooth lining felt against your skin the last time you’d worn it. It made you want to feel it again.

Your date for the evening eyed you up and down, awestruck by you for what felt like the thousandth time this year. You and Robin had settled on a flannel pinafore dress, paired with a turtleneck and thick tights. You’d concluded that the outfit was just the right compromise of pretty and practical, given the frigid weather and the fact that you had absolutely no idea what Eddie’s itinerary was for the evening ahead.

You smiled, a warm ray of light in the frosted dark as you took your red pea coat from its hook by the door. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Eddie’s face brightened in the light of yours. Funny how that always seemed to happen.

“So, uh…” You murmured, shutting the door behind you. “What's the plan, Stan?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Stan?”

“Because it rhymes with plan.” You fiddled with the buttons of your coat nervously. “Plan, Stan… Sorry-” you huffed, eyes flicking down as blood rushed to your face. You hoped he couldn’t tell. “-I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

“You’re nervous?” Eddie snorted. “My palms are fucking waterfalls, why do you think my hands are in my pockets right now?”

You giggled, still jittery from the nerves bolstered by the cold. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better, you never get nervous.”

“Oh yeah? Wanna feel?” he teased, shoving a cold, clammy hand against your cheek. You squealed, slapping at his hand as your face scrunched up with mock disgust. Before you knew it you were both laughing, and all was right with the world again- his joyful snicker nestled perfectly against your giggle-turned-guffaw. It was like riding a bike, the way the two of you fit together perfectly.

“Don’t be nervous,” you whispered, gently leaning into his shoulder once you caught your breath, “It’s just me.”

Eddie leaned back, his weight finding equilibrium with yours between your shoulders. “And it’s just me.”

“Just us.” you whispered, tipping your head to meet his shoulder for a moment. Eddie’s heart might have been racing still, but if hearts could get runners’ high… he was pretty sure it felt like this.

Eddie refused to tell you where he was driving you, only that your destination was about thirty minutes out of Hawkins. When he finally pulled into the parking lot, the look on your face was completely worth it.

“Santa’s Light Farm?” you read from the lit archway composed of what looked like two giant candy canes as he pulled the van into the drive. Eddie took a moment to take in your awestruck expression before throwing the gear shift into park. “Eddie, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many Christmas lights in my life! How did you find out about this place?”

“We used to come here when I was a kid,” Eddie said, unbuckling and killing the engine before hopping out of the van and jogging to open your door before you got the chance. He continued as he helped you from your seat, “Long time ago, like… last time I was here it was with my mom.”

Your eyes widened; he’d never mentioned her before, not really. He’d only made passing references to his mother, the entity she’d been in the childhood that you didn’t know much about apart from what he’d made a point not to talk about.

“How long ago was that?” you asked. You didn’t mean to pry… but now that he was opening up doors that had never been opened for you, you were anxious for any scraps he was willing to give.

“My last Christmas with her, I was six.” Eddie’s gaze was wistful, tinging his melancholy grin with a hint of nostalgia. “I don’t remember much about this place, just how I felt when I was here.” He turned to you now, the corner of his smile tugging up in that way that made your heart do backflips. “That’s why I wanted to bring you.”

The two of you were standing still now, waiting in line at the ticket booth. Your hand grasped his, and you gave him a reassuring squeeze. “I wish I could’ve met her.”

Eddie’s hand squeezed yours back. “She would have liked you.” Then he gave you a look so genuine, you had no doubt in your mind that he meant it.

He let go of your hand only to thumb through his cash at the ticket booth, greedily grabbing your hand back the moment he pocketed his wallet.

You began the journey through the glowing light show of giant Christmas trees and dazzling archways, and you both marveled at the sheer amount of lights that had been strung into fantastic spectacles as far as your eyes could see. Holiday favorites played through speakers served as the soundtrack to your colorful stroll, mingling with the laughter of children making memories just like Eddie’s.

“You want hot cocoa?” he asked when the two of you found a quaint stand decorated to look like a gingerbread house. You nodded eagerly, swooning at the idea of a warm drink in this bone-chilling cold.

“Now’s the best part, Sweet Tart.” Eddie smiled triumphantly at his rhyme, taking both of your hot chocolates and herding you over to a topping bar that had been set up on the side of the stand. “You probably don’t know this about me, but I just happen to make the most delicious cup of hot cocoa in the history of the world.”

“Oh, aren’t I lucky?”

“Extremely.” he winked, handing you one of the cups. “So what I’m going to do is fix you the greatest cup of cocoa ever, and you can try your best to make me one Ace-style.”

You lifted an eyebrow. “And what is Ace-style?”

“That’s up to you, gorgeous.”

Gorgeous. Eddie just called you gorgeous. You wanted to pinch yourself, to squeal, to jump up and down.

“Well then,” you cooed through a toothy grin, “get ready to be dethroned, cocoa king.”

A little more than five minutes later, the two of you sat on a bench beneath a twinkle-lit pergola with your custom cocoas in hand. You had begrudgingly named Eddie the winner, laying the grudge on thickly just to see his cocky smile grow cockier. You’d happily lose any competition against him if it meant you got to see that smile on his face.

“You get extra points for creativity with the cinnamon, though.” he complimented you between sips, a frothy mustache of whipped cream bubbling on his upper lip. “Never would’ve thought to put that on cocoa.”

You struggled to hide a laugh as you reached for him with a napkin. “‘Preciate it, Colonel Sanders.”

“Colonel…? Oh.” It was too dark to tell, but you were pretty sure Eddie blushed as you wiped the whipped cream away. “Thanks. No question of whether or not I liked your recipe, I guess!”

You giggled, taking a sip from your own cup. “I’m a little jealous that I don’t get to taste the fruit of my own labors, I worked hard on that!”

“Oh, you wanted some?” You recognized that mischievous glint in Eddie’s eye, but it was too late- he’d already swiped a dollop of whipped cream from his cup and smeared it on the tip of your nose. “There. You can reach that, right?”

You crossed your eyes as you laughed, trying to reach the whipped cream with your tongue which- obviously- you could not do.

Eddie was cracking up beside you. “C’mon Ace, it’s right there, you got it!”

It wasn’t long before you’d dabbed a bit of whipped cream on his nose, and the two of you had descended into a laughing fit.

The entire date went that way… both of you messing with each other, finding tiny, insignificant excuses to touch each other, make eye contact, do or say something that made the other smile. Conversation flowed easily, like it always did. You’d initially been nervous that this night would be awkward, but you couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Talking to him, being with him… it was effortless every time.

Before you knew it, you’d both reached the end of the path, the glowing candy cane archway marking the divide between the holiday wonderland and the dusty parking lot.

Neither you nor Eddie seemed able to bring yourselves toward it; you both stood stock still just a few feet behind the looming candy canes. It seemed he wanted to keep the night going just as much as you did.

“I almost want to try and walk through it again backwards.” You said, laughing lightly through the words. “I don’t want it to be over.”

Eddie seemed pensive, tilting his head as if deep in thought. The air between you was silent enough for you to register White Christmas playing through a speaker somewhere. Eddie backed up a step or two, then extended his arm out to you with an open hand.

“One dance for the road, then?”

You stared at Eddie’s hand as a bewildered smile unfurled across your lips. “Do people even dance to Christmas music?”

“That depends on whether you take my hand or not.” He shrugged, watching you expectantly.

You took his hand. How could you do anything else?

It was cold outside- more than cold, it was below freezing- and yet, when you felt the pad of his frigid fingers caress your hand, felt his other hand press into the small of your back through the several layers of fabric you wore tonight… you felt anything but cold. You were freshly baked cookies. You were a quilt left by the fireplace to soak up its warmth. Hell, you were the fireplace.

You swayed as one to Bing Crosby’s crooning, and your forehead found his chest as your eyelids fluttered shut and a smile that shone with warm content took its rightful place on your winter-chapped lips. You didn’t think it could get better, but then you felt his voice rumbling in his chest and realized that Eddie was singing softly along to the carol as you danced, and your heart began to melt for him.

You got a few looks as people walked past, some surprised, some fond, some judgmental- neither of you noticed, though. For once, you were both completely unbothered by the entire world around you. Nothing existed outside of this.

You did eventually walk to the van. Eddie drove you back to Hawkins, and he parked at the curb in front of your house the same way he so often did… but it wasn’t the same. Because this time, he held your hand all the while.

“Can I see you again before Christmas?” Eddie asked you, standing with you on the doorstep under the pale porch light.

“Well duh,” you smiled, “I have to give you your present.”

He smirked. You swooned. You always swooned when he gave you that little half smile, but this time you didn’t hide it from him. You never wanted to hide how you felt about him ever again, after tonight.

“And I have to give you your present.” Eddie parroted, sliding his arms around your waist and pulling you close.

Your eyes went wide at the contact, and you couldn’t suppress the grin his touch elicited from you as you leaned into it.

“You got me a present?”

He nodded, pulling you closer. “Mm-hm. And you didn’t have to get me anything, tonight was enough.”

You sighed, watching the cloud of your cocoa-scented breath mingle with his in the dim light against a backdrop of snow that was just beginning to fall. “Tonight was perfect, Eddie.”

“Almost perfect.”

You lifted your head to look up at him, confused, but his finger caught your chin to lift it the rest of the way to capture your lips with his own.

You were dreaming. You had to be dreaming. Eddie Munson was kissing you, and snow was falling, and his hand was pressing into the small of your back making you arch against him and Eddie Munson was kissing you.

You lifted your hand to lightly caress the stubble at his jaw, and you felt him shiver at the coldness of your fingers but he only kissed you harder, as if he sought shelter from the cold in the way your lips felt against his.

You were dazed when he pulled away, eyelashes fluttering and your gaze saturated with longing for more. He brought a hand up to grasp yours at his jaw, bringing it to his mouth to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You look like a princess tonight, by the way,” he whispered. “I should’ve said that when you got the door, but I’m a coward.”

“You aren’t a coward, Eddie Munson.” You said, moon-eyed and soft-spoken.

A snowflake caught in your hair, and Eddie smiled as he smoothed it out with his thumb. “You know,” he said, murmuring as though he was half speaking to himself. “When I’m with you, that feels truer than it ever used to before.” He brought his lips to your forehead, pressing them into another gentle kiss at your hairline.

Six days passed before you saw Eddie again, but that didn’t mean you didn’t hear from him. He called you every morning- that is, if you didn’t beat him to it. You caught your parents smiling at you on more than one occasion, watching you giggle and sigh and twirl the telephone cord between your fingers. Your mother would grin wistfully, remembering the first time she’d been that smitten over someone. Your father would shake his head and sip his coffee, hiding a smile behind the paper. They both knew who you were talking to, and they couldn’t be more proud of their daughter’s taste. Eddie was already practically part of the family.

The snow continued in full force for the majority of that week, and by the time Friday the 23rd rolled around, there was enough snow on the ground to nearly reach your knees. Eddie insisted that the two of you had to build a snowman as the snow was the perfect consistency today to do so, and you were completely incapable of saying no to him so that was exactly what you did. You were both so cold and frozen to the bone that you both had to huddle by the radiator in his trailer until you could feel your toes again. Wayne had gotten off early for the holidays, so he��d been ready with steaming cups of coffee for the both of you. Come sundown, you were both wrapped in old blankets and clutching your mugs of coffee, cuddling like penguins as It’s a Wonderful Life played on the TV.

It was a perfect day.

“You want your present now?” Eddie asked, his chin nudging the top of your head as the credits rolled at the end of the film. It was just the two of you in the room now, Wayne having escaped to the patio for a smoke break.

You nodded excitedly, leaping up to grab two wrapped parcels from beneath the plastic Christmas tree in the corner of the living room- one from you to Eddie, one from him to you.

Eddie chuckled at your enthusiasm, turning to face where you sat opposite him on the loveseat.

“You open yours first.” you commanded, excited to see his reaction to what you were quite sure would knock his socks off. You’d pulled some strings for this one.

Eddie obeyed, ripping into the carefully wrapped package quickly and efficiently. Moments later, he was holding up a T-shirt with an expression that was somewhere between shock and complete childlike glee.

“This… is this-?”

You were already nodding. “It’s from this year’s tour. I have a cousin in Texarkana, and he told me they were playing at the Community College back at the beginning of the school year, so…” You smiled, “I called in a favor he owes me.”

Eddie looked at you flabbergasted, turning your gift to him this way and that so he could look at every square inch of the Metallica tour shirt- now officially his Metallica tour shirt.

“This is… oh my God-”

On that last syllable, he dropped the shirt in his lap and tackled you in a hug so fierce, it toppled you over.

“Okay, okay,” you wheezed, struggling to catch your breath in his vice-like grip. “I’m glad you like it, can I breathe now, please?”

He loosened the embrace but still held you in his arms, smiling down at you with joy so bright it could melt the snow outside. “Seriously, thank you. I can’t believe you managed to get one of these.”

You shrugged. “Well, you wanted to go see them in Illinois months ago, but I’m the one who convinced you to stay home because it was a school night. It’s the least I could do.”

Eddie shook his head, gazing at you with the kind of wonder that one would normally reserve for something like the Grand Canyon or an art museum. “Ace, if this is your least, then I don’t think the world is ready for your best.”

Once both of you were upright again, Eddie tapped a finger impatiently on his gift to you. “Your turn, c’mon, open it.”

You didn’t need to be told twice- you tore paper and ribbon off the rectangular box with gusto, raising an eyebrow when you saw a logo you recognized on the surface of the cardboard.

“Converse?” You asked. Eddie just smiled, waiting for you to remove the lid- he wasn’t disappointed with your reaction. Your jaw dropped when your eyes locked on the deep red platform Converse that you’d fallen in love with nearly five months ago.

“Eddie… are these-?”

“You know I couldn’t let you leave that store without those shoes. Or… well, I couldn’t let you leave without the possibility of owning those shoes.” Eddie’s posture straightened, obviously satisfied with how surprised you were. “They were meant for you, Ace.”

You couldn’t stop staring at the shoes. Those beautiful, red, perfect shoes that Eddie had seen you simply look at all those months ago, and bought for you so that he could give you the perfect Christmas present. Because they were- they were the best present you had ever gotten, because you knew that this meant he cared about you even then.

You were so in love with this man.

You didn’t realize you’d shed a tear until it spilled over your eyelid and fell with a plop on the cardboard box.

“I can’t believe you bought these, Eddie, they were so expensive!”

“Hey now, it’s okay! You don’t need to cry, it’s okay!”

Eddie was wiping your eyes in seconds, panicking at the sight of your tears. You sniffled, gazing up at him with wet, shining eyes. “It’s okay, they’re happy tears, I promise!” You tried to reassure him, but his hands stayed planted on either side of your jaw, fingers splayed across the skin of your cheeks.

“You promise you’re okay?” Eddie pressed.

You took his wrists in your hands, stroking your thumbs along his skin. “I’m more than okay, Eddie.”

This time it was you who leaned in, your lips salted from a stray tear ghosting against his, innocent and tentative. He made a noise when you kissed him, a high-pitched sort of whine that sounded wanting, desperate. The tip of his tongue poked out to taste your kiss, and the moment you allowed your tongue to meet his, he seemed to lose all restraint.

Your presents were forgotten, pushed to the side as Eddie leaned further into your kiss, his lips moving purposefully against yours as he slowly lowered you until you were horizontal on the loveseat.

More of his weight settled on top of you, and you reveled in the way his body slotted against yours as he deepened the kiss. His mouth worked in tandem with yours as your hands wandered, fingering the fabric of his long sleeved shirt against his back. Your fingers worked their way under the hem, slipping to the warm skin beneath, and he gasped into your mouth at how cold your fingers were. His revenge was a bite to your lip, which launched a gasp from your lips that surprised even you.

“Ahem.”

Wayne’s cough came from the kitchen, and it tore the two of you off of each other so fast that Eddie actually fell off of the couch, landing on his back and staring up at the ceiling wide-eyed and rueful.

“You kids still on Santa’s nice list out here?”

“Christ, Wayne-” Eddie’s hands rubbed his eyes, as if he could somehow reach his brain through his eye sockets and scrub away the embarrassment.

“-Because if you’re doing something that would land you two on the naughty list, I’d rather it didn’t happen in my living room.”

You cringed, glad he was behind you so you didn’t have to look Wayne in the eye. “Sorry, Mr. Munson.”

Eddie glanced up at you, smiling up at you through a cringe as he mouthed Sorry!

“It’s getting late, Ace,” he said, hopping to his feet and offering you a hand. “Let’s get you home.”

You nodded, taking his hand and standing to throw Wayne an apologetic smile. “Thank you for having me over, Mr. Wayne. And for the coffee.”

He gave you a friendly, forgiving smile in return. “No need to thank me, darlin’, you’re welcome anytime.”

When Eddie returned home from dropping you off, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled piece of notebook paper that you’d given him before you’d left his car. You’d scribbled a phone number on it- the area code was unfamiliar, a Louisiana number that you’d said belonged to your grandmother’s house where you’d be staying for the remainder of the winter holiday.

“My flight leaves tomorrow,” you’d said, “but my granny said it’s fine if you call. I can’t hog the phone like I’ve been doing the rest of this week- there’ll be like eighteen grandchildren there, so I doubt I’m the only one who’ll want to use the phone, but-”

“Ace,” Eddie interrupted, “Are you asking me to call you?”

You looked up at him sheepishly, smiling and nodding your head.

He grinned. “Then I’ll call.”

This felt like the beginning of something good, something really really good. Eddie didn’t know what he’d done to deserve something so good… one could even call it a Christmas miracle.

The phone rang suddenly, pulling Eddie from his thoughts, and he picked up the receiver quickly so it wouldn’t bother Wayne, who’d fallen asleep in his recliner.

“Hello?”

“You gave her the shoes!” Robin’s voice buzzed excitedly.

Eddie smiled, “Yes, Buckley, I gave her the shoes.” Robin had made a point to interrogate Eddie about his Christmas gift to you over a month ago, and when Eddie had finally broken down and told her, she’d actually been rather impressed with him.

“I just got off the phone with her,” She gushed, “She was stunned, completely floored. God, Munson, you realize you’re getting a girlfriend for Christmas?”

“Slow down, speedy-” Eddie cautioned through his teeth, “-we haven’t really… defined anything yet. I don’t even know if that’s what she wants.”

Robin snorted. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll find much of an issue there. Believe me, she wants to be with you. If she’s ready to deal with Alan and his creeps for you, she’s in it for the long haul.”

Eddie frowned, confused. “Alan?” he asked, “You mean what happened back in October? If anything she was the one antagonizing him, I had to get her out of the classroom before she started a fight.”

“October? No, I mean last week.”

Eddie’s breath caught in his chest.

“Robin,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “What happened last week?”

Part 8

Taglist: @rustboxstarr , @josephquinnsfreckles , @rozxartaki ,@sheneedsrocknroll92, @melodymishahiddlestan , @stylesxmunson @fishwithtitz , @elvendria , @carrotbunnies21 , @the-unforgivenn , @munson-blurbs, @writinginthetwilight , @ghost-proofbaby , @nix-rose , @chaoticgood-munson , @3rd-conchord , @aphrogeneias , @definitionwanderlust , @aheadfullofsteverogers , @artsymaddie , @mopeymopeymouse , @alwaysbeenfamous

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #stranger things #eddie x reader #impossible to hate you #when harry met sally #eddie munson friends to lovers #eddie munson x fem!reader

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shalomniscient · 1 day

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[recommended song: albireo by rokudenashi.]

you love her.

it’s something you’ve always known, really. you’ve loved her since you were kids, sitting on her roof and looking at the stars. you loved her and she loved the stars. they flickered in her eyes every time she would point them out—cassiopeia, orion, pegasus, leo, among many others. she spoke of them like they’re old friends, sharing their stories with you, but most of the time you would get too lost in the sound of her voice to pay attention. you would wish she’d speak your name in that tone.

it’s on a clear night, both of you still in your school uniforms, when she tells you about binary stars. “they’re caught in each others’ gravity,” she explains, grinning, golden eyes as bright as the fiery red of her hair, and you remember thinking it feels familiar. you remember relating. you’ve let yourself get pulled along by her orbit for years now—so much so you think that maybe, without her gravity, you might just fall apart. thne she tells you about albireo; a binary star. points it out to you amongst all the other little lights that hang from the heavens. the glint of albireo’s component stars overlap with each other just like how her fingertips brush yours, and the heat expansion of the universe pulses forward with each beat of your heart. your world gets bigger for every second you spend by her side.

but you learn she’s more like a comet than a star. upon the scale of a human eye, a star is stationary. unmoving. permanent. and she is anything but. there’s a restlessness in her, a longing, but it’s different from yours. the gravity she moves along is not from another—not from you—but from the stars beyond even what is known. she wants to dance from system to system, to know the warmth of a star as she passes by but never to stay. and so you find that part of you isn’t surprised when she says she’s leaving, to venture forth onto the starry rail and the path of a god long gone. “i’ll miss you,” she says, her golden eyes warm with sincerity as she takes her hands in yours, and you want to tell her you will too, but the words lodge in your throat stubbornly. you can only manage them after she’s gone, nothing but a shining light in the sky, but the words burn up in the stratosphere before they reach her.

you still love her.

a year after she departs, a discovery is made. albireo is a false binary—its component stars are light years apart, made to seem close by the illusion of spacetime. you don’t know if you want to laugh or cry at the irony. a binary star that never was, and a love that never was. close enough to taste, far enough to miss. you want to ask her for your heart back, but you don’t even know where you’d put it. she’s had it for so long, even if she doesn’t know. it’s always been hers. so you swallow down the ache in your throat like a burning star, and pick up the phone with a smile when she calls.

(in the distance, albireo shines down on you, alone.)

#sev.scribbles #himeko x reader #i guess. no outright confirmation but very himeko coded #anyway this is kinda bad but ive been so sick about albireo by rokudenashi that i had to physically get this out of my system #dont even get me started on spica………….. smtg abt the lyricism of some jp artists gets me so crazy #rokudenashi yoasobi eve ado my beloveds fr #edit: wanna clarify i directly added some lines from the song into this as a reference; it was intentional #ok going to bed now gn fellas

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jreads · 1 year

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Not sure if this is where we submit requests, but i’d kill for a fic where reader’s having debilitating anxiety attack in Jackson (like where your vision blacks at the edges and you can’t breathe) and suddenly a strong force is keeping you up and you look up and it’s Joel; and he’s concerned bc he relates (but you don’t know each other) and you take a fistful of his shirt and suddenly they feel the symptoms retreating - and that’s how you meet, and you’ve found comfort in each other since. :’)

Sorry if that made no sense it’s word vomit LOL

Also sidebar: unexpected constellations will stay w me forever thank you:’)

Of Memories and Mealtimes (Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Word count: 2.5K

Warnings: Mentions of blood, Mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, Mentions of death, Foul language

A/N: this prompt was so cute, I hope I did it justice!

It’s been getting colder recently. No snow, not yet, but the breeze has a certain nip to it, blowing burnt orange leaves to rest on the ground like a natural carpet. The days are grey, and the nights are long, and that creeping feeling has been looming ever closer recently. You’ve found solace in the comfort of the kitchen. The air here is warm and humid and smells of frying garlic and onion. You perform repetitive, menial tasks and it staves off—to some extent—the ever-present penetrating feeling of loneliness.

Since arriving in Jackson, you’ve struggled to find a place, a sense of belonging. You’re coming to the conclusion that maybe you never will. You thought you had one… but that was a while ago.

It’s selfish to think you’re the only one in this town with a painful past; it’s clear that everyone is trying just as hard to find reasons to get through each day. You’re not alone. But you do feel like it. Often.

Maria has taken pity on you, stationing you in the kitchens because she knows you like it there. Knows you like to watch the people sitting at tables and soak up sounds of laughter in an attempt to steal a moment of second-hand happiness.

It’s late now, pitch black outside, and your shift is almost over. You’re cutting fruits and veggies for omelettes in the morning: spinach, olives, tomatoes. There are maybe five people still sitting, a table of three, one woman at a booth, and a man sitting alone at the bar. Sometimes, you like to eavesdrop.

The trio are talking about their old lives. They seem to have found something in common, street racing. Moding their cars, evading the cops… back when you could just drive into a gas station for petrol. One used to have an old Charger, stolen in the looting. He reminisces over how the purr of the engine felt, how the lights of the highway would turn to a blur as he accelerated. From the corner of your eye, you see the man from the bar get up to leave, dropping some coin on the counter. You used to like to drive fast too. When it was for leisure and not for survival.

“I’m scared.”

The familiar voice sears through you like a branding iron, bringing with it flashing images of memory. Fuck. No, no, no. Not now.

The freeway is peppered with stationary cars, and you’re swerving, as fast as humanly possible, trying desperately to navigate the mess. The Jeep behind you is gaining, and the little boy in your passenger seat is rigid in fear. If you can just make it through the overpass, it clears out after that. Their car is good offroad, but yours is faster. You upshift.

There’s gunfire, and your rear window shatters. He screams. You use your right hand to push his head down. He needs to stay low. You’re almost there.

Another gunshot. You try to ignore the popping of the rear tire; try not to think about what it means. The vehicle swerves and you fight against it by correcting the wheel. It’s no use. You clip the side of an abandoned car, and your own flips. You’re thrown through the windscreen. It’s the last thing you remember before your vision goes dark.

There’s pain. But not from the onslaught of old memories. You’ve slipped with the knife in your distraction, cutting a deep line into the side of your thumb. It’s dripping down, coating your fingers in a slick red. Your heart is pounding out of your chest, lungs constricting so hard you can barely get a breath in.

“Could I take five?” you manage to gasp to the other lady. But you don’t even wait for her reply before dropping the knife with a clatter and banging gracelessly through the back service doors. Your vision is blurring, darkening at the edges and your head is spinning. It feels as if you might die. You’re going to die.

Your hand is now coated in blood and—with little thought—you try to brush it off with your right, only succeeding in spreading the scarlet until it’s all you can see.

You wake in a ravine. How long have you been out? There’s pain in your cheek and you reach up to pluck a piece of glass from it. The crash. The kid. Oh, no. Oh, god. You call his name, voice hoarse. No reply. Your legs are too weak to support the weight of your own body, so you scramble up from the ditch, back onto the freeway. The car lies a few meters away on its side. Scraped and destoyed. And beyond it, a small body. No.

You crawl to him, sobbing at the bones bent in unnatural angles. And the bullet wound through his chest. You scream. You wail. His lifeless form is so small in your arms, leaking blood over your palms. You were supposed to protect him. You were supposed to—

His body is going cold. Limp and lifeless. But you can’t let go. Maybe, if you just hold on tight enough, the force of your love can breathe life back into his lungs.

You’re covered in his bood, figuratively, literally, it’s everywhere. Stumbling as if you’re drunk, you cry so hard that the tears only blur your vision further. It’s been a while since you’ve had one this bad. If you could just get back to your house. God, why did it have to happen in public? You can’t see where you’re going, so it’s no surprise when you run into something.

No, someone. There are hands on your shoulders and a comforting voice, gravelly Texan accent. What is he saying? You can’t tell. You’re going to be sick.

Something blocks out the lights of the streetlamp. There’s a body beside you.

A fragile body, broken and empty. Leaking life onto cracked pavement.

No, but this body is warm. Strong and gentle. A calloused palm cradling your head into a broad chest, a steady heartbeat. Alive. This body is alive. You clutch onto the fabric of his shirt with desperate hands, forgetting for a moment that your own blood will stain the fabric. He’s speaking words, low whispers, but the sound of them vibrates through him and into you. He’s telling you to calm down.

But you can’t. How do you tell him you can’t? You’re choking on air, hiccupping in a way that hurts.

“Come on now, breathe with me.” He smells nice, like cedar and whiskey. You can feel him smoothing circles onto your back, the rise and fall of his chest as he inhales and exhales. You try to copy him, lungs spasming with the effort. “That’s it. Keep going.” You’re heaving loud, ugly, uneven breaths, but it’s all you can manage. Past and present are flashing before you, your own blood, someone else’s, unseeing eyes and dead silence, a thumping pulse and soothing voice. It’s getting easier; you’re synchronizing your breaths to his own. But as you lean into the comedown, that exhaustion starts to creep up behind you. You melt into him in relief, but he doesn’t shy away. “There you go. I got you.”

Pieces of your surroundings start to fade back into view. You’re under the awning by the barn, shrouded in shadow. He’s practically holding you up by himself, and you feel a sudden deep stab of embarrassment. You can’t look this stranger in the eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his shirt.

He doesn’t loosen his hold. “You got nothing to apologize for.”

“Probably got… blood on your shirt.” It’s taking effort to even form the words.

He laughs lightly and the sound is like warm caramel. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

The nausea is ebbing, but you find you don’t want to leave. Caught in his arms, you feel the safest you’ve felt in a long while.

“You should probably get that finger bandaged.” He steps away, pulling your arm into the light to examine the cut and you almost sob once more at the loss of contact. “I got supplies back at my place, if that’s alright by you?”

“Okay,” you say because you feel too weak to walk back to your own house alone right now. And also because in the glow of the streetlamp, you can see the rugged handsomeness of his face, etched with sweet worry, dark curls interspersed with shots of grey. You’ve seen him before. The man at the bar, so often alone.

You’re shaking now, visceral, wracking shudders. He sheds his coat and swings it over your shoulders before leading you down the laneway.

His house is not far, a five-minute walk at most. He ushers you up the front porch, opening the door to a dim-lit living area.

“Joel?” A shrill voice calls down from above.

Joel Miller? This is Joel Miller?

“Yeah Ellie, it’s me.”

A little girl comes bounding down the stairs, dark hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She stops dead when she sees you, noting the jacket around your shoulders, the blood on your hand.

“What happened?” she says, with a kind of fascinated wonder that comes naturally to kids. Oh god, she reminds you of—

“Kitchen accident.” Joel replies smoothly. “You mind getting the med kit, kiddo?”

Her big eyes blink once, twice. “Oh, yeah.” Then she’s running right back up the staircase.

Joel sits you on the couch, grasping your wrist with a tender motion so at odds with all the things you’ve heard about him. Then again, you never knew he had a kid.

“Is she yours?”

He doesn’t look up from your palm. “In the ways that count.”

The girl, Ellie, is back down in record time with a worn first aid kit that she extends to Joel. When he takes it, she looks again at you with blatant curiosity. You feel guilty for barging into the warmth of their home like this.

“Ellie, why don’t you go boil some water for coffee.”

“Can I have hot chocolate?” she asks, and the hopeful joy in her voice is enough to finally make you smile.

Joel does too. “Sure.” And she’s off once more, rounding the corner to where you assume the kitchen lies. “But don’t go putting extra sugar in it,” he calls after her. The soft domesticity makes you ache with loss.

“Well, good news is you won’t be needing stiches.” He pulls an array of supplies from the box: disinfectant, gauze, a bandage. “But you should tell Maria to take you off kitchen schedule for a couple days.”

“How’d you know I was on kitchen schedule?”

“Lucky guess,” he replies easily, but you swear there’s pink travelling across his cheeks.

The disinfectant stings and you hiss. He falls into silent work, and you find yourself watching him, trying to understand how the man in front of you is the very same that garnered such a ruthless and cold reputation.

He breaks the silence first. “I don’t mean to pry but…” Joel fastens the bandage securely around your finger. “…if you want to talk about what happened…”

You don’t. Not now, maybe not ever.

When you don’t reply, he nods his head. “I get it.” You watch him cast a glance toward the sound of a boiling kettle, to where Ellie is. “Trust me, I do.”

You sit with him and Ellie—quiet with a warm cup of coffee—until late into the night. Ellie makes a face at the smell of it and quips back and forth with Joel about how he can ‘drink that piss.’ The girl has a mouth on her. She’s clever, sharp-witted, and the banter between her and him seems to dig a needle and thread into your gaping heart and sew one single stitch into it.

Past midnight, despite your repeated refusal, Joel insists he walk you home. Seeing your own house, cold and devoid of light makes your shoulders slump and heart race anew. Joel seems to note the behaviour.

“You’re always welcome at ours.” You know you’ll never take him up on the invitation. From the sadness in his eyes, you think he knows it too.

There are miles between you. “Thank you.” He only nods. You leave him standing on the lawn.

From behind the safety of the porch window, you can see that he waits for the light to turn on in your living room before walking back down the street.

Maria has insisted you take a few days off. Damn it. Joel must have said something. You try to busy yourself in the garden instead, but the gloves fit awkwardly over your bandage. You don’t last long anyway. The sound of school children heading home hits your ears around 3:00PM, and within minutes, a small shadow blocks where the sun hits your face.

“What’re you doing?”

Just seeing her face is enough to put a small smile on your own. “I’m planting basil.”

“What’s basil?”

You laugh. Actually laugh. “You want to try some?” You offer her a leaf and she chews it thoughtfully. Gives it an approving face. A thumbs up.

“You should bring some for Joel.” The forwardness of her suggestion is almost shocking, but she seems like the type of kid who says whatever comes to mind. You like that about her. “His cooking is pretty bland.”

Two laughs in one day. This kid is like medicine. “You think so?”

“Mhm. You could come over now. I think he’s on patrol, but he’ll be back soon.”

You think about turning her down, just on reflex. But you like how it feels to laugh, just the way you liked how you had felt in Joel’s arms the other night. So you agree. Her smile is brilliant.

Minutes later, when she loops her arm through your own, she says, “Hey but don’t tell Joel what I said about his cooking, okay?”

You promise.

Around 7:00PM, he comes through the door, a weary sigh giving him away. “Ellie,” he calls.

“In here!” She’s excited. You’ve prepared a meal: pasta, sundried tomatoes, and the basil plucked from the garden. She’s been picking at the penne with her fingers, unable to wait until he arrives.

Seeing the surprised look on his face when he rounds the corner makes you feel suddenly shy. “I wanted to do something to thank you for last night and, well… Ellie found me in the—”

“Joel, it’s so fucking good.” At this point the muscles in your face are starting to hurt from smiling.

Over dinner, you actually start to engage in the conversation, and somehow you seem to get along like you’ve known each other for years. In tandem, they work to bring you out of your shell. Your voice is hoarse and face warm by the time you go to leave, but Joel stops you at the door.

“Let me walk you back again.” Your selfish streak is only getting worse. You say yes. You think you see Ellie’s face in the top window as the two of you leave, a devious grin on her face.

Conversation flows on the way, about food, wine, Ellie. It’s comfortable, familiar, but there’s something…

A yearning, buried under layers of friendly formality. He walks you up your porch and you think, for just a moment, about inviting him inside.

But you’re not quite ready for that just yet. So, you rise up to kiss him on the cheek instead, relishing the stunned look on his face.

Shy again, you back away across the threshold. “Good night, Joel.”

He says it back, and the way your name rolls of his tongue ignites something long dormant within you. You think he might be looking at your lips.

When the door closes, you let out a shuddering breath. And for what seems like the thousandth time that night, you smile.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #tlou fic #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #tlou angst #my fic #jreadswrites

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one-idea · 7 months

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ASL being raised by Shanks part 4

First - Previous - Next

After everything calms down. Luffy accepts that he won’t swim again, Ace doesn’t he’s still hopping mad. But nothing cools Ace’s rage quite like his brothers. “But Ace look how cool this is.” Luffy proceeds to throw his fist forward. The rubber stretches, hits a wall bounces back, and hits Luffy square in the face. You can’t not laugh at the poor baby.

Ace is still mad at Shanks though. Blaming him for Luffy’s new powers (and if this isn’t Buggy all over again. Blaming Shanks for his own decision to eat a devil fruit, though Luffy didn’t know)

Shanks has finally calmed down. Luffy is safe and relatively unharmed (though the devil fruit being harmful is debatable) he can finally figure out what’s been going on with his son. He also gets to introduce Mihawk to the boys. Ace is suspicious of everyone. Sabo is far too polite for a homeless boy, Shanks needs to figure this kid out. He has a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with that dumb noble who was threatening his boy. And Luffy is full of wonder at anyone Shanks introduces.

He introduces Mihawk as a friend (they’ve never really put hard labels on their relationship. Not wanting others to use it against them) which gets some snickers and eye rolls from the crew. The older boys seem to catch them with a quickly traded glances, but they go right over Luffy’s head. All three boys are easily distracted by the rest of the sentence anyway. “This is my friend Dracula Mihawk. The world’s greatest swordsman.”

The boys are chaos. Sabo wants by to know how such a title is earned. Ace asking how many people he’s killed. Luffy asking is Mihawk is a part of Shanks’ crew. To which Mihawk answers them all in turn. “I killed the previous title holder. I’ve killed a lot of people. No.” The last one is the most uncomfortable question. He’s not part of Shanks crew, but that leads to the next question.

“Why not? Shanks is the best.” Luffy is more upset that he’s not in Shanks’ crew than finding out he’s killed ‘a lot’ of people.

And Mihawk can’t even argue with the kid. Shanks is the best. If he were to follow a captain he would chose Shanks. But he won’t ever tell the other man that because well…. “I prefer my freedom.” And Luffy seems to understand that. All the boys do. The same way Shanks understands.

Not many people would put up with a relationship like theirs. Mihawk knows plenty of pirates who have relations with people on shore. The pirate chasing freedom and their partner waiting for their return. He’s never wanted that. Never wanted the weakness a helpless stationary lover brings. But Shanks is anything but helpless and moves around more than Mihawk does. If he was ever going to commit to someone it would be Shanks, who could almost match him in strength. Who understood the call of the sea, the pull of a challenge and adventure. And who knows Mihawk won’t be tethered. He comes and goes as he pleases much the same as Shanks does. It works for them. (But will it work once kids are involved?)

Luffy just smiles at him and laughs. His hand coming to rest upon the famed straw hat as he smiles at the world’s greatest swordsman and says “one day I’m going to be king of the pirates! The freest man alive!”

And Mihawk gets it. Gets what Shanks sees in the boy. He’s crazy. But in the way Rogers was crazy. In the way that the world can’t take his joy and smile from him crazy. In he’s going to bend the world to his whim crazy. And Mihawk is going to love every second of watching him do it.

Ace punches him in the head and yell about not proclaiming that to just anyone. And the boy seems haunted by a knowledge his young age should afford him. He’s interesting. Mihawk catches Shanks’ eyes over the boys head and can tell his lover caught it to. There’s something off about these two older boys.

They spend about it a week on the island

Shanks spends the time catching up with Luffy and getting to know Ace and Sabo. More Sabo as Ace is still mad about the devil fruit and doesn’t trust Shanks at all.

He’s making some head way with Sabo though. The boy wants to be a writer and travel the world. He loves hearing about Shanks and the crew’s adventures. He’s making friends with in the crew. Especially with Benn and Yasopp. The former a steady presence and the latter full of stories. But Sabo has to agree with Luffy. Shanks is the best.

Shanks takes the boys up to his and Luffy’s hill at night. Ace drags his feet not wanting to come, but unwilling to leave his brothers alone with Shanks. Sabo and Luffy are thrilled. Shanks is telling them stories about the stars. He has Luffy and Sabo’s full attention. It’s only Ace who notices their shadow trailing them. Mihawk never joining the moment but close enough to make sure no danger could reach them. And it would almost be nice if Ace trusted either of these men.

One of the nights while watching the stars, Sabo lets it slip who his dad is. That he was the noble who had higher the pirates. That it’s his fault Luffy and Ace got hurt. Luffy and Ace are quick to comfort and reassure their brother that it’s not his fault, but Sabo is looking to Shanks. Waiting for the man to condemn the noble blood in his veins.

Shanks just smiles at the boy placing a hand on his shoulder. “What sort of life do you want?”

“I want to be free. I want to sail the world with my brothers. I don’t want to be a noble.” Sabo is quick. Wanting to convince the man in front of him that he’s not the monster that he knows nobles to be. That he’s a pirate just like his brother.

“Then free you will be.” Shanks turns his head just enough to catch Mihawks eye. It’s a short conversation. A raised eyebrow from Shanks ‘did you take care of this?’ A small smirk from Mihawk ‘already dealt with.’ Shanks quickly glances back at the boys before meeting Mihawk’s eyes again ‘he’s coming with us.’ A short head nod from Mihawk ‘of course.’

It takes the adults less than 10 seconds to have a full conversation. Shanks turns his attention back to the boys and smiles at Sabo. “You know you could always join my crew.” It’s said with a smile, warm and full of joy. It has a teasing lot to it. Shanks has learned never to show how much something means to him. If he keeps it light the outcome appears to not matter to him. It does. He wants Sabo to come with him. He wants Ace as well. But right now it’s a joke offer. A seed planted for when he truly offers.

Or so he thinks. Because Sabo’s face lights up. “Really?”

“Sure. Anchor’s already coming with us. You might as well join to.” Again Shanks keeps it light though he can see the excitement on both Sabo and Luffy’s faces.

“I’m still going with you!” Luffy is pumped. He was worried the devil fruit fiasco might have changed Shanks mind.

“Of course you’re still coming Anchor. We made a promise after all.” Shanks smiles as Luffy launches himself at his idol. Shanks laughs holding Luffy close, and opens his other arm of Sabo, who rushes in with out any hesitation. Is this what a dad is suppose to feel like? It a question going through all three of their heads.

But for Ace.

It’s white noise. His world stopped when Shanks offered Sabo a place on his crew. It shattered when Shanks revealed that Luffy was already leaving with him. The whole conversation has started to fade out for him. He can hear their laughter and excitement but it sounds so quite compared to his rapid breathing.

He’s losing them. His brothers. The only people in the world who know what a monster he is and love him anyways are leaving.

He can’t blame them. This encounter with the bluejams has just shown to Ace that he’s not strong enough to protect them. What good is he to them? Why should they stay with him? Why?

When they could have adventures with Shanks and his crew. Shanks who is strong enough to protect them. Who can offer them freedom in a way that Ace can’t. He’s losing them. He’s losing them and he can’t blame them for picking the better option. But he knows who he can blame.

He shoots to his feet drawling all of their attention. Luffy realizes what happening right before it does as he reaches out for his big brother “Ace.”

“I hate you. All of you. And I want nothing to do with you.” He doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t think he could ever hate Luffy and Sabo, but Shanks. Ya he meant that one. He just says it because he knows it’s going to hurt them. Because he knows Luffy would never leave him unless Ace leaves first. And knows no matter how much this hurts him it’s what’s best for Sabo and Luffy. He takes off running and just misses Luffy reaching out for him.

Sabo and Luffy want to chase after him but Shanks keeps a tight hold. “It’s alright I’ll go get him.” He reassured the boys. Knowing he can find Ace by his haki signature faster than the two little boys in the woods can. Sabo is yelling that he doesn’t understand and Luffy is sobbing.

“No you don’t get it. Ace doesn’t think he should be alive.” Sabo yells out. “We’re all he has.” Shanks freezes. How? How can a child as young as Ace, who is ten years old, think so lowly of himself. Who told this child that they didn’t deserve to exist?.

Mihawk steps in to take Luffy and Sabo from Shanks. “I’ve got him. I promise I’ll bring him back.” Shanks swears to the boys.

He needs to move fast. Ace knows these woods better than him, but Shanks’ has some of the best haki in all of the new world. He can track this boy around the whole island, but that doesn’t mean he’ll reach him before something or someone else does. He knows this is his fault. He should have phased his offer to both boys. He wanted all three to come with him. But because of his phrasing he must have made Ace feel as though he was being left behind.

He needs to find Ace. Explain that all three boys are coming with him. That he wants Ace around. That Ace and his brothers are safe with him.

#one piece #monkey d. luffy #portagas d. ace #revolutionary sabo #one piece sabo #asl brothers #asl trio #shanks is luffy’s dad okay.#shanks #dracule mihawk #mishanks

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