#(<- not really but i did try to make the smoke look like it) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muniimyg · 1 day ago

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♡ 04: how you're lookin' at me, yeah, i know what that means and i'm obsessed

series m.list // taglist

note: a wild ride…. good luck y’all ,, THANKS FOR 1K 😻 my kitty is happy !!! hauwhahahahaa this part is lengthy so pls take a mfking SEAT. pls lmk what y’all think ,, send in asks 🫵 we’re headed towards the finale 💛 much wuv !!

warnings: tension/tampo vibes (whats that in english? lol) ,, male masturbation (jk gets himself off as he recalls oc slapping him) ,, jealousy (lots of it. like 90% of this part is filled with it) ,, oc has a hickey ,, angst ,, and a little mwaamwaaaa moment :')

life sucks.

for jungkook, at least.

it’s been almost a month since the incident, and you’ve done everything in your power to avoid him.

the memory of the fight—the words exchanged, the way he said your name—still lingers in the air between you like smoke, suffocating and inescapable.

at first, jungkook tried.

he texted you the next day and every day after that. his messages were hesitant and apologetic... and each one was left unanswered.

nerd [11:11PM]: ___, can we talk? sent nerd [11:28PM]: please? sent nerd [12:01AM]: i’m sorry. i mean it. sent nerd [12:03AM]: it wasn’t even like that. not with her. sent nerd [1:09AM]: ik i’m gonna sound like a total douche no matter what so let me do it please sent nerd [1:15AM]: let me say sorry, let me fuck up, let me make it up to u sent nerd [2:01AM]: i really hate begging sent nerd [2:01AM]: but i really hate u not wanting me even more seen

he did try to call though.

just once.

the ringtone barely lasted before he hung up, realizing how futile it was.

at one point, he showed up at your favorite coffee shop one afternoon. he sat alone by the window with an untouched drink, waiting.

his eyes flicked to the door every time it opened, a glimmer of hope lighting his expression for a split second before fading when it wasn’t you.

after two hours, he left.

but now, almost four weeks later, jungkook has stopped trying (so hard).

it wasn’t a sudden decision, more of a gradual acceptance that whatever connection you’d shared—whatever you’d been to each other—was slipping through his fingers.

he told himself you needed time, that maybe this space was what you wanted, what you deserved. and so, he gave it to you.

he told himself it wasn’t the end.

it couldn’t be.

he refuses for it to be.

this is just… complicated.

he gets that.

he's a smart guy after all!

but late at night, when the world was quiet and he was left alone with his thoughts, the weight of your absence pressed against his chest like an ache he couldn’t soothe. it... burns? it throbs in this aching rhythm that he can't quite figure the melody to.

jungkook thinks about the way you banter with him and how much it makes his day. how closely you sit next to him. how effortlessly you mesmerize him…

how you flirted with him for a few days and now he's malfunctioning. how he spent the last month memorizing every detail of those days and can't get over it. he has convinced himself you're into him...

like, remember how your fingers would brush his when you handed him something? that meant something, right? or how about the way you looked at him and tilted your head? shit, yeah.

that meant something.

fuck, the way you laugh and throw your head back and he gets a glance at your perfect neck—how he wants to leave kisses on it. how he…

how he had you.

for a moment, he really had you.

under him, tangled, and messy.

how he was so close to your lips.

he should’ve kissed you.

he should’ve locked the fucking door.

he should’ve ran after you even more.

but he didn’t…

and now?

now you aren’t even around.

he recalls what taehyung said to him night at the arcade. taehyung's words rub into his wound like salt. it stings. it makes him feel sick to his stomach and he just... get can't stomach it.

“she isn't gonna stick around forever... especially with all the shit you pull…”

there are no words to describe how incredibly helpless he feels.

if anything, he goes through circles in his mind; completely in disbelief he could fuck up this bad with you.

he hates that he can't think straight. he hates that he can't study properly. he hates that he stopped tutoring and even got in trouble with his profs for letting them down (they really counted on jungkook to help other students out).

he hates that he can't fucking breathe lately.

he can't sleep.

he can't eat.

jungkook hates the growing distance, but more than that, he hates how much it hurts.

he hates how much he wants to fix things even when he doesn’t know how. he just knows he wants to. god, fuck it—

fine.

he hates how much he misses you.

but most of all, he hates that he was wrong.

it was entirely his fault.

jungkook hates it all.

by chance, you and jungkook run into each other.

the scene is perfect.

it's the perfect set up to cry over when you get home—that is.

the rain starts just as you’re leaving the library, soft at first but quickly turning heavier. you don’t expect to see him—not here, not now—but there he is, standing under the awning of the café across the street, shaking out his umbrella. the door chimes as you step outside, and he looks up.

for a moment, neither of you move, caught in the heavy stillness of the moment.

jungkook freezes when he sees you.

his eyes widen briefly, then soften into something cautious, hesitant. he tucks his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, fingers flexing nervously against the fabric as he steps forward.

“hey,” he says, his voice careful, like he’s offering a truce.

the sound of him makes your heart clench, the warmth in his tone threatening to undo you. but you don’t let it show. you nod once, lips pressed into a thin line, and move to step around him.

“wait—” his hand shoots out, not to grab you, just to stop you. his fingers hover midair, unsure if he even has the right to reach for you anymore. “___, please?”

the rain is falling harder now, pooling on the sidewalk and soaking into the edges of your shoes. you glance at him, taking in the way his hair clings to his forehead, the way his hoodie looks just a little too big on him, like he hasn’t been sleeping well or eating much.

“can you not pretend like this is a coincidence?” you ask quietly, refusing to meet his gaze.

he stays silent.

it wasn’t.

truth be told, he’s been waiting outside for almost 45 minutes. he didn’t even know if you were at the library today… he just had to wait and find out for himself.

"do you have an umbrella?" he asks, breaking the silence.

"what—"

"here."

he cuts you off, pushing the umbrella toward you.

you blink, startled, as he places the handle firmly in your hand. your fingers wrap around it instinctively, the metal cool against your palm.

"jungkook—" you start, your voice faltering.

he shakes his head, stepping back into the rain without a word. the downpour hits him almost instantly, soaking through his hoodie as he shoves his hands into his pockets and starts walking away.

you stand there, the umbrella trembling in your grip, watching him go. the rain comes down harder, cascading off the awning above you, but you barely notice. your gaze stays locked on him—on the way his shoulders hunch against the storm, on the slow but steady steps that carry him farther and farther away.

something tightens in your chest.

maybe it’s regret or maybe longing… but as his figure grows smaller and the storm swallows him—you feel it.

the warmth of his lingering presence and the chill of it all—

—of your favourite almost.

a few days later, jungkook finds his umbrella in his bedroom.

he takes out his phone to send you a text, prepared to humiliate himself and to beg for a second of your attention. he’d trade all tonight’s focus for a moment of you.

just as he picks the umbrella up, he finds a note.

___ told me to give it back to you. she says thanks (whore). ps: she said don’t text her. — taehyung

jungkook sighs.

does he listen?

obviously not.

nerd [6:19PM]: don’t tell me what to do nerd [6:20PM]: i hate this nerd [6:21PM]: u should’ve jus kept the umbrella. giving it back to taehyung and telling him to tell me not to text u is sick. seen. nerd [6:22PM]: reply pls seen. nerd [6:26PM]: fine. i’ll jus talk to myself nerd [6:31PM]: i miss u sm i jerked off the other night thinking abt the way u slapped me seen nerd [6:33PM]: come on, kitty nerd [6:34PM]: promise to think abt me tn :( nerd [6:35PM]: cos i’m gonna think abt u tn nerd [6:36PM]: ignore me if u want proof typing… nerd [6:37PM]: kitty? seen nerd [6:40PM]: fuck. nerd [6:41PM]: how do u get me so fucking hard thru text? maybe i jus miss u too much nerd [6:42PM]: excited for my proof? seen nerd [6:45PM]: ft? seen nerd [6:46PM]: keep seenzoning me and i’ll cum typing... seen ___ has notifications silenced

but it's too late.

jungkook meant it.

he's sat on his gaming chair, cock heavy.

his phone is out with that group picture from the arcade (zoomed into you) as lewd thoughts of you fill his mind. jungkook runs his thumb across his tip, hissing at the way it feels over his slit.

he flicks his wrists, gripping his dick with just enough pressure to grow the hardness. it’s already stiff and he can feel the need to cum—but he just can’t.

he can’t without thinking of you.

so, his eyes flutter shut as his memories of you replay in his mind.

from the way your lips winced when he ate you out—to the way that mini skirt looked on you that day. he thinks about the way you say his name; in any and every way. angry, teasingly, and desperately… he thinks about how pretty it sounds rolling off your tongue.

how pretty you looked under him.

how good you smelt when he kissed your neck.

how close you sat next to him—fingertips lingering... god, what he would do to be close to you again.

jungkook thinks about the slap.

how hard your palms hit his cheek and how angry you looked at him. despite the negativity surrounding the situation—he can’t help it.

you looked so hot.

it just… gets to him.

before he knows it, his hand is covered in his sticky cum.

he’s a loser—a nerd in your words.

he always has been… and here he is; jerking himself off to the pretty girl he lost his chance with.

the night is supposed to be nothing special.

for jungkook, it’s just another event for his precious marine conservation club—a fundraiser, a schmooze-fest for potential investors, and a chance to hand out awards to appease the donors. sure, he’s getting an award, but it doesn’t feel like much.

the room buzzes with polite conversation and clinking glasses. jungkook adjusts his tie for the hundredth time, barely paying attention to the speeches and presentations. he stands off to the side with the other club members, blending into the background until his name is called.

“jeon jungkook, for outstanding contributions to marine conservation and innovation. mr. jeon has been working towards innovative chemical solutions for marine conservation, focusing on sustainable practices to protect endangered species like dolphins, and developing eco-friendly alternatives to reduce their environmental impact.”

the applause is polite but hearty.

jungkook steps onto the stage, the spotlight hitting him square in the face. as he accepts the plaque, his gaze instinctively sweeps over the audience—and then it stops.

you’re here.

sitting with the guys, casually chatting like you belong there, like you haven’t been avoiding him for a month and a half (at this point).

his heart trips over itself.

he’s not even sure if it’s relief or panic or something else entirely, but it rattles him. he forces his attention back to the microphone, holding the plaque in his slightly sweaty hands.

“uh, thank you,” he begins, his voice steady enough, though his pulse is anything but. “our club’s mission has always been to protect and preserve marine life through education, community projects, and outreach. with this award…”

his eyes flick back to you.

you’re laughing at something taehyung just said, your smile bright, your whole demeanor light and carefree.

“…we want to focus on…”

he falters, the words slipping from his mind as his gaze lingers on you.

“…we want to focus on… f-focus…”

a ripple of laughter spreads through the audience. someone whistles playfully. he blinks, startled back into the moment.

“…focus on sustainable practices and expanding our projects,” he finishes, clearing his throat as heat rises to his cheeks.

you’re laughing too, your head tilted slightly as you join the others. it should make him feel worse, but somehow, seeing you like that—smiling, present—grounds him.

he powers through the rest of the speech, keeping his gaze firmly away from where you’re sitting. when it’s over, he accepts the handshake from the host and makes his way offstage, barely registering the applause.

as soon as the ceremony ends, jungkook doesn’t even think.

he weaves through the crowd, ignoring congratulatory pats on the back and comments from investors, his eyes scanning for you.

how did you know about tonight?

wait.

shit.

he’s been texting you every day with random ass updates. of course you know. he’s yapped about it… but why? why did you come? don’t you hate his guts?

you're here so... maybe you don't hate him as much as he has convinced himself you do.

jungkook finds you near the back with the friend group, holding a glass of champagne and listening to hoseok animatedly retell a story.

“congratulations,” you say lightly, lifting your glass in a mock toast. your words are casual, but there's an edge to them, a distance you've kept between the two of you for far too long.

his chest tightens at the awkwardness of your tone, but he nods, his hands slipping into his pockets. the space between you feels impossibly wide now, though only a few feet separate you.

“thanks,” he says, his voice quieter than he intended. “... thanks for coming.”

his gaze flickers to yours for a second before dropping to the floor, and he shifts, a little uncertain, taking a half-step closer.

hesitantly, you inch back.

his presence is suddenly overwhelming, more than you’re ready for.

“yeah… of course,” you murmur, unsure how to navigate the new dynamic between you two. the tension is thick, but there's something else there too. an unspoken history. “what are friends for, you know?”

he hates that.

friends.

yeah fucking right.

jungkook tries to break the tension.

he takes a risk.

he takes a small step forward, hoping you don’t move. this is the closest he’s gotten to you in over a month—he needs this. it’s like euphoria in his veins—being with you again.

he needs this.

“how have you been?” he asks, the question coming out softer than he anticipated. jungkook scratches the back of his neck and continues. “a-are you coming to the afterparty?”

your lips part, a pause hanging between you.

you don’t want to admit how much you’ve missed this. how much you’ve missed him.

but the words slip out, more natural than you expect.

“yeah,” you say, giving him a brief but warm look. “i’ll be there.”

for a moment, your eyes lock, and something shifts.

it’s like you’ve both forgotten all the walls, the space between you collapsing. he can feel his heart rate quicken, like his knees might give out, but he forces himself to stay grounded, to act nonchalant.

“cool,” he says, trying to brush off the sudden rush of emotions. “i’ll.. i’ll be there too.” he smiles, but it’s the kind of smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes—not yet, anyway.

“i sure hope so,” you laugh. “it’s your party, nerd.”

nerd.

holy shit.

never has he ever felt so relieved to hear you call him that.

as he’s about to say more, taehyung appears out of nowhere, slapping his arm and giving him a congratulatory squeeze.

“hey, man, nice speech. well deserved,” taehyung says, grinning like an idiot. “what did you want to focus on, again?”

you laugh while jungkook rolls his eyes. he shoves taehyung playfully.

suddenly, you can’t help but feel the awkwardness settle back in, like something’s shifted again. you feel a pang in your chest as you turn toward the other people nearby, the ones you've been socializing with before jungkook showed up. the buzz of the conversation pulls you away, and you focus on the group, hoping to escape the overwhelming emotions that jungkook’s presence stirs.

jungkook watches you go, his eyes lingering as you slip away from the conversation.

he can’t help it.

you’re in his head again.

he looks over at taehyung, catching his eye.

“hyung, is she coming to the dinner before the afterparty?” he asks, trying to sound casual. his voice betrays him, cracking with just the faintest hint of hope.

taehyung raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of his drink.

“yeah. excited?”

“no.”

taehyung scoffs. “say that again but take away the lying.”

“fuck off.”

“___’s a good friend, man,” taehyung chuckles, redirecting the conversation. “you’re lucky. you just might be back in her good graces.”

jungkook’s heart skips a beat.

“really?” he asks, trying not to sound too eager.

taehyung grins, leaning in a little.

“yeah, but... she’s bringing her little boyfriend with her.”

you’re doing what?

jungkook feels the need to rub his eyes or something.

was taehyung shitting on him? boyfriend? when did this happen? no fucking way.

jungkook refuses to believe it.

… yet, the words hit jungkook like a punch to the gut. his breath catches, and his stomach tightens.

"what?" his voice is barely a whisper, the weight of it settling in.

"she didn't tell you?"

"we haven't been talking."

"rightfully so."

fuck.

no.

he doesn’t want to believe it, but the hurt is already seeping through.

taehyung shrugs, oblivious to the internal storm brewing in jungkook.

“shit, well... yeah, she’s been seeing him for a while. dunno if they’re officially together, but… guess she’s really moving on. good for her, right? i mean, now you can really focus on just being her friend.”

the air stills.

the reality of it all comes crashing down. jungkook’s heart sinks, his chest tightening in that all-too-familiar ache.

that's why you’ve been busy...

you’ve been moving on.

his fingers curl into fists, the anger bubbling up before he can suppress it. but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let his emotions spill out in front of taehyung, even though every part of him is screaming.

“yeah,” he forces a smile. “i guess.”

as the night goes on, jungkook can’t shake the feeling that he’s lost something he can’t get back. something that’s slipping further away with every step you take, every laugh you share with someone else. and no matter how much he wants to fight for it, he’s afraid it’s already too late.

jungkook doesn’t want to go to dinner anymore.

he has no appetite.

jungkook is already at the dinner when you arrive.

his mood is off, grumpy but with an undercurrent of sadness that he can’t quite shake. he’s forcing a smile when people congratulate him for the award, but it’s clear it’s not reaching his eyes. the night’s just been a blur of congratulations and polite smiles, but all he can think about who will walk in with you.

does he know him?

is he gonna be some super cool prince charming?

does he know that jungkook was eating you out just a month ago?

all valid questions…

however, you arrive a little late, and immediately his gaze searches for you in the crowd. when he sees you, his heart lurches. he spots you talking to someone, and the knot in his stomach tightens.

you make your way to the table, your eyes scanning it before you stop. for a moment, you aren’t sure where to sit. usually, you sit next to jungkook… but the spot is occupied by jimin.

not by choice.

jungkook had saved the spot for you… you just came too late and he didn’t have it in him to tell jimin to move. but, jimin catches the milli-second exchanged look you have with jungkook and immediately shifts.

“oh,” jimin begins. “shit, i forgot… didn’t know you were gonna show up so late—”

you chuckle, shaking your head. “it’s fine we’re gonna sit on the other side! by the way,” you pause and push the guy you came with forward. “this is do-hwan. he’s a biochem major and we have a few electives together… um, what else?”

biochem?

serisouly?

do you have a thing for nerds or something? bro doesn't even look the part. he should be majoring in physics or something even more lame.

jungkook's thoughts cut short when he hears you giggling.

“hi,” do-hwan says with a grins at everyone. then, he turns and extends his hand to jungkook. “jungkook? shit, man. congrats on the award.”

he chuckles, giving jungkook a playful look. “organic chem, huh? i guess someone has to study the pretty side of chemistry.”

what the fuck does that mean?

jungkook’s ears turn red.

“yeah,” he grumbles under his breath. “nice to meet you too.”

with that, you and do-hwan make your way to the other side of the table. jungkook watches, his gaze hardening as you take a seat beside him.

he’s trying his best to stay calm and to not show it—not show how absolutely fucking mad this entire thing is.

this is ridiculous!

his chest tightens painfully at the sight of you sitting with him. his fingers curl into his glass as he watches you laugh and chat with others, inserting do-hwan like you’re some proud girlfriend.

you've probably known do-hwan like 10 seconds.

and jungkook can’t help it! every word you exchange with do-hwan makes him feel like he’s being crushed from the inside out.

he’s trying to focus on the conversation happening around him, but his mind keeps wandering, drifting to you.

he watches as you lean in to talk to do-hwan, the way your eyes light up when you laugh at something he says. it’s the same laugh, the same warmth in your smile, but somehow it feels so much farther away from him now—like a memory that he’s trying to hold onto but can’t quite grasp.

he forces himself to look at the group again, but his gaze keeps slipping back to you. every word you exchange with do-hwan makes his chest tighten.

it's like he’s suffocating, and he can’t tear his eyes away. the way he moves so casually, his hand brushing against yours as he reaches for his drink.

it’s too much.

it’s too familiar.

and then, as you turn your head to respond to someone else, he sees it.

just a flash of it—right there on your neck.

a small hickey, barely visible, but it might as well be a brand. his heart stops for a beat. the sight burns in his chest, and before he can stop himself, his breath catches in his throat.

his stomach churns violently, a rush of heat flooding his veins. everything feels like it’s collapsing inward. the noise around him fades, and all he can hear is the pounding of his own heartbeat. the world shrinks, and the weight of the jealousy hits him like a truck.

he can’t stay here.

not like this.

not with this tightness in his chest, not with the ache in his stomach. the room feels like it’s closing in on him, and he knows—he knows he has to get out.

without a word, he stands abruptly, pushing his chair back. his heart races as he excuses himself from the table, slipping away into the hallway outside the main dining area.

the rest of the table doesn’t seem to notice his sudden departure, but your friends quickly start murmuring, and one of them nudges you.

"you should probably go check on him," taehyung says, giving you an almost knowing look. “i told you not to bring him.”

you hesitate for a second, then stand, glancing at do-hwan.

“it’s not do-hwan's fault.”

taehyung rolls his eyes at you.

“you’re playing it kinda mean tonight though,” he tells you. “jungkook’s been miserable. sure he deserves to be dragged through mud for whatever happened and for whatever he said, but this? on his night? i don’t know ___…”

you gulp.

maybe taehyung is right.

but you didn’t intend for it to be like this. you genuinely brought a friend you’ve been spending time with! and, sure… yeah. you’ve been kissing him for a few weeks now, but so what? jungkook has probably been fucking every student he’s been tutoring so why the fuck does this matter?

“___…” taehyung urges you.

“yeah, yeah… i’m going.”

you wave taehyung off as you get up from your seat. you excuse yourself and let do-hwan know you’ll be right back.

you find jungkook outside.

he stands with his back pressed against the cool metal of his car, arms crossed loosely over his chest. you notice that his posture is stiff... like he’s trying to keep himself grounded, but his shoulders still carry the weight of what he’s just seen.

his jaw clenches every so often, like he’s holding something back, but when his muscles tense, it’s almost as if the anger or hurt inside him is too much to contain.

as you walk towards him and he notices you. he runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends, clearly agitated. he lets out a slow, shaky breath, his eyes cast down toward the ground as if trying to collect his thoughts. he shakes his head slightly, as if to shake off the frustration that has settled in his chest, but it doesn’t seem to help.

then, he looks up at the sky, his gaze distant, unfocused, lost in the swirl of thoughts that seem to chase him in circles. his arms drop to his sides for a moment, his fingers flexing and unflexing like he’s trying to release the tension that has built up in his body.

after a long pause, he lets out a frustrated sigh, raking his hand through his hair again, this time pushing it back as he exhales sharply.

his whole stance is restless.

it’s like he can’t quite settle his thoughts or his body, caught between what he feels and the reality of what’s happening.

he’s trapped in his own head, unable to escape the weight of the situation.

by now, you’re next to him.

are you here to set him free?

“so… have the dolphins ever thanked you for your hard work?” you ask, trying to break both the silence and tension with your light tone. “you do so much for them… ungrateful little brats—you know they’re psychos right? they bully—”

he doesn’t turn around.

“what’s on your neck?” he asks. “did your boyfriend do that?”

your chest hurts at his words. “he’s not... he’s not my boyfriend.” you swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. “he’s just a friend.”

there’s a long pause, and when he finally turns to face you, his eyes are a mixture of frustration and hurt.

“the same kind of friend i am to you?”

he’s trying to sound nonchalant, but there’s a tremor in his voice.

you shake your head, not knowing how to explain, not knowing how to make him understand.

“you know what? i didn’t come here to make you feel like this…” your voice cracks slightly. “i didn’t... i don’t want to hurt you. i didn’t want to come.”

he scoffs bitterly.

“maybe you shouldn’t have.”

his words sting, but you can’t back down.

“what do you want me to do?” you ask, frustrated. “if i didn’t show up, you’d be upset and blow up my phone. now that i’m here, you’re still upset—”

“and this is how you chose to show up?” jungkook raises his voice, turning to you. he steps forward, towering over you. he brings his hands to your hair, pushing it back and leaning in to look at your hickey properly.

he squints.

“are you proud of this?” he hisses. “fucking bug bite bullshit.”

“stop—” you snap, cutting him off now. “don’t—”

“okay. sorry, fuck..."

a beat.

"___, i miss you,” he breathes. “i just… shit. can you stay still for a second?”

there’s a long silence between you two, the air thick with things unsaid. jungkook looks like he’s about to say something, but his mouth closes, his frustration evident in the way he grits his teeth.

instead, he just breathes you in.

for the first time in a month and a half; jungkook can breathe.

then, he steps away and sighs.

“think i’m gonna head home first. i… i need some space or something,” jungkook tells you. “let them know for me?”

“y-yeah. sure.”

“okay,” jungkook nods. “i’ll see you later.”

“see you.”

for the first time in a while, jungkook offers you a smile and you return it.

short and sweet—he takes it.

he leaves and thinks about it the entire drive home.

when you arrive at the party, you’re still reeling from the brief exchange with jungkook.

your thoughts are completely a tangled mess.

from the words he didn’t say to the way his eyes held that edge of something unspoken—it all lingers in your mind like an unsolved puzzle. you thought you had it all figured out…

that you could be fine.

that you could move on—but now, after that moment, you’re not so sure anymore.

your heart races in a way that you can’t explain. why does it feel like you’re standing on the edge of something—something big, something scary—and yet, you're not sure if you want to fall or pull back?

your mind keeps returning to the way he looked at you, like he was caught between wanting to say everything and nothing at all. it’s not a feeling you can shake off easily.

it’s heavier than you thought it would be.

at the party, you try your best to focus on the people around you. do-hwan is by your side, chatting casually with a few people, most of them strangers to you. some faces are familiar—people from jungkook’s marine conservation club, and others... just people.

you make your rounds, greeting them politely, exchanging pleasantries, but your thoughts are still drifting back to him. to jungkook. the air is thick with anticipation, and no matter how much you try to focus on the conversations happening around you, your mind keeps wandering.

and then, there he is.

jungkook is standing by the drink table, his posture relaxed but not at ease.

his gaze flicks to you for a moment, a brief flicker of something—maybe surprise, maybe something more—before he meets your eyes. there’s a tense, palpable moment of silence.

he’s holding a red cup in one hand, his fingers wrapped loosely around it. his other hand rests in his pocket, but his stance is still too rigid... too guarded.

it’s like he’s waiting for something to happen, for you to do something.

he doesn’t smile.

he just nods at you.

a small, deliberate movement that somehow feels too formal, too distant.

no words.

just acknowledgment.

you feel the knot tighten in your stomach, the nervous energy in your chest quickening. it’s the simplest thing, but it feels loaded with so much more.

you can’t look away.

something inside you is aching to go over, to close the space between you, to ask if everything’s okay, to say something—but you're frozen. the tension in the air between you is thick enough to suffocate.

you swallow hard, trying to calm the unease building in your chest, but it's no use.

the silence stretches out, heavy and thick, as you stand there, caught between the desire to run or to take a step closer, not sure if you're brave enough for either.

you take a step back, trying to break eye contact, when suddenly, someone bumps into you from behind. you stumble forward, your feet catching on the edge of a rug, and you let out a startled breath as you lose your balance.

before you can fully fall, a strong hand grips your wrist, pulling you back against something solid. your breath catches as you feel the warmth of someone’s body close to you.

it’s jungkook.

without a word, his other hand slides around your waist, steadying you, his fingers briefly pressing against the fabric of your shirt. the contact is brief but grounding, like the world, slows for a moment, just the two of you, suspended in time.

he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t offer the usual reassuring words.

his grip is firm, and steady, but he doesn’t linger. as quickly as it happens, he pulls away, his hand leaving your waist just as the tension between you starts to build.

you open your mouth to say something, maybe a thank you, but before the words leave your lips, he’s already moving away, stepping back with that familiar, unreadable expression.

you stand there.

you’re frozen for a beat longer than necessary. your chest tight as you try to catch your breath… his sudden departure stings more than you care to admit. there’s no time for you to process what just happened, what that touch meant—or didn't mean—before he vanishes back into the crowd.

fuck.

the night only gets louder as more people flood into the house.

the music thrums through the walls, bass-heavy and relentless, blending with the clatter of cups and the hum of overlapping conversations.

you weave through the crowd, the heat of so many bodies pressed together almost suffocating. your heart races—not from the chaos around you but from the weight of the unspoken tension that’s followed you since you walked in.

you couldn’t bring yourself to drink, though do-hwan had handed you a cup earlier.

it’s long forgotten somewhere, left behind on a table. you’re too afraid of what a single drink might loosen in you—afraid of saying or doing something you’re not ready for.

you don’t want to make worse what already feels so broken.

“hey.” do-hwan’s voice cuts through the noise, his hand resting lightly on your arm. he pulls you aside to a quieter corner of the room, away from the crush of people. “you okay?”

you nod, a small, uncertain smile tugging at your lips. “yeah. just... a little overwhelmed, i guess.”

he watches you closely, his expression softening as if he’s trying to read between the lines. “you sure? you’ve been kind of quiet tonight.”

“i’m fine, really.”

“you don’t have to be,” he says, and it’s the way he says it—gentle, almost understanding—that makes you crack a real smile. “pretty sure jungkook hates me. pretty sure he’s killed me 10 times in his head in the past hour or so… and he knows all the organic chem shit to make it a really clean murder, you know? “

you let out a weak laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

he grins at the sight, his confidence blooming as he leans in closer, his shoulder brushing against yours.

“there it is,” he says playfully. “i was starting to think you didn’t know how to smile anymore.”

you laugh softly despite yourself, and his grin widens.

do-hwan then dips his head lower as he talks, his voice dropping slightly, as if the two of you are sharing a secret. it’s intimate in a way that makes your cheeks flush, his proximity unnerving. his eyes flick to yours, and he leans in just a little more.

across the room, jungkook sees everything.

is it hot in here?

because fuck, he’s burning up.

actually, the entire house is on fire in his mind.

he’s been watching you for most of the night, though he pretends not to be.

the way do-hwan hovers near you, the way you laugh at something he says—it feels like a punch to the chest. every small interaction between you two is a reminder of what he’s lost, of what he could’ve had if he’d been braver, better.

his grip on his cup tightens, his knuckles white against the red plastic. he can’t hear what you’re saying, but he doesn’t need to. the way do-hwan leans closer, the way his hand brushes your arm—it’s enough to make jealousy coil hot and bitter in jungkook’s stomach. it burns through him, unbearable, as he watches do-hwan dip his head lower, his lips so close to yours.

and then something inside him snaps.

fuck it.

before he knows it, he’s moving through the crowd, his feet carrying him faster than his mind can keep up. his hand reaches out, fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist just as do-hwan’s face nears yours. you barely have time to process the sudden motion before you’re being yanked back, stumbling slightly into jungkook’s chest.

“what the hell?” do-hwan says, his tone sharp, but jungkook doesn’t even look at him. his focus is entirely on you, his jaw tight and eyes dark with something unreadable.

your breath catches, your heart hammering in your chest as you look up at him, startled.

“jungkook—”

he doesn’t let you finish.

his hand wraps firmly around your wrist, and before you can process what’s happening, he’s pulling you away. his grip is steady but not rough, a silent insistence that leaves no room for argument.

“jungkook, wait—” you try again, glancing back at do-hwan, whose confused expression barely registers in the rush of your heartbeat.

jungkook doesn’t look back, his jaw tight and his steps purposeful as he weaves through the crowd, his hand never leaving yours. the air around you feels heavy, the muffled music and chatter blurring into white noise as he leads you up the stairs.

your pulse thrums in your ears as he pushes open a door and pulls you inside, closing it behind you with a quiet but final click. the sudden silence of the room contrasts sharply with the chaos outside, and for a moment, you can only stare at him, your chest rising and falling as you catch your breath.

he finally lets go of your wrist, his hand lingering for a split second longer than necessary before he steps back. his gaze is dark, unreadable, but the tension radiating off him is palpable. the weight of the moment presses down on you, thick and suffocating, as you wait for him to speak.

a moment passes.

then, another.

and another.

and then—

“dump him.”

you clearly your throat.

“can’t dump him. he’s not my boyfriend—“

“you and your fucking situationships.”

you gulp.

you hate the way he says it.

situationship… fuck him.

the room feels smaller than it is, the air thick with the weight of the moment. jungkook’s jaw ticks as he stares at you, the sharpness in his voice cutting through the silence.

“you’re… fucking with me, right?” he spits out, his tone teetering between disbelief and frustration. “you can’t be fucking real right now. you were just—”

“i was just what?” you snap, your glare matching his. “no fair, jungkook. i got to hear you fuck some girl, but you don’t want to watch me kiss—”

“did i ask you to?” he cuts in, his voice rising.

“no,” you huff, crossing your arms. “but what are you asking from me right now? huh? jungkook… i don’t understand you—”

“what do you think i’m asking?” his voice lowers, but the intensity behind it doesn’t waver. he steps closer, his presence almost suffocating. “you’re always trying to act like this doesn’t matter. like i don’t matter.”

“maybe it doesn’t,” you challenge, even though the words taste bitter on your tongue.

jungkook laughs, but it’s humorless, sharp.

“yeah, sure. that’s why you still give a fuck about me fucking—”

you snap. “don’t tell me her name.”

“what?” jungkook grumbles. “is that it? you get to parade around, yelling his fucking name and announcing it to the entire fucking world but i don’t get to tell you about the girl that came onto me for months? do-hwan biochem this, do-hwan that—do-hwan kiss me! is that it?"

"jungkook—"

"fuck, ___... listen to me, okay? let me tell you what i've been rehearsing for the past month and a half.... the girl i declined over and over again and fucked a total of 3 times because i was thinking with my dick is done. okay? if you’re trying to tell me that i fucked up—fine. yeah. i fucked up. but i meant it when i said it’s not what it looked like. ___, it wasn't like that. she spread shit about me being a good tutor and twisted it. how the fuck do you think i feel about myself? how the fuck do you think i feel about you seeing it differently—seeing me differently?”

your throat tightens, and you look away, desperate for a moment to compose yourself.

“jungkook—”

“tell me how to fix it,” he cries, his frustration spilling over. “tell me what you want, because i’ll do it. i’ll stop tutoring if that’s what you want. fuck, i already did to be honest with you.”

you glance up at him, startled.

“why? that’s not going to change anything.”

“but i have to try…” his voice cracks, and he runs a hand through his hair, his exasperation evident. “i’ll give up anything—whatever it takes. just tell me what you need, and i’ll do it. want me to stop wearing ugly ass shirts? fine. want me to stop saving the dolphins you hate so much—”

“i don’t hate dolphins—”

“you’re scared of them.”

your eyes soften.

“how’d you know—”

“it’s obvious,” jungkook breathes. “the same way it’s obvious you’re scared of this.”

this...

what even is this?

the silence that follows is deafening. you don’t say anything, and the tension between you stretches taut, threatening to snap. his chest rises and falls heavily, his eyes searching yours, desperate for something you’re not sure you can give him.

he takes another step closer, his proximity making it impossible to think straight.

“say something,” he pleads, his voice barely above a whisper now.

but you can’t.

you don’t trust your voice, don’t trust yourself not to break under the weight of it all. so you stay quiet, the space between you charged with everything unsaid.

the weight of unsaid words and unresolved feelings pressing down on both of you. you take a step back, trying to create some space to breathe, but jungkook mirrors you, closing the distance effortlessly.

then, you look around his room for some kind of break… but it backfires as your eyes meet a plushie, laying on his bed.

hello kitty.

“what’s that?” you ask a little shyly.

jungkook turns his head, feeling a little embarrassed at what you’ve seen.

“what do you think it is?” jungkook asks gently. "___... i... i can't do it. i'm sorry, i can't..."

"can't what?"

"i can't want you," he confesses. "i can't want you when i need you that bad."

he points at the plushie and sighs. "fuck, do you know how stupid that fucking claw machine made me feel? i spent like 1 or 2—"

"hours?" your eyes widen.

he shakes his head. "hundred."

hundred.

you stay silent.

"i'm sorry, ___... for everything. i'm a shithead. i'm mean and inconsiderate. i'm a waste of time—i know... but i want you to know that... everything about my life feels so weird without you in it. the past month and half has been absolute hell. it's like... if you're not around, all i do is think about you and it fucks with me. i wonder what you're eating, who you're with, and what you're going to do next... i get excited when you seenzone me. i feel like i can finally breathe when you're near. i don't know what you did and what fucking pavlov doggy shit experiment you did on me—but fuck. woof woof. whatever you want, ___. seriously."

then, you do what you fear.

you give in.

“how am i supposed to trust you,” you start, your voice shaky but firm, “when you’re not even a good friend? you’re always so mean to me, jungkook. think about it… when have we ever been good friends?”

he scoffs, the corner of his mouth twisting into a bitter smile.

“maybe it’s because i don’t want to be your friend.”

the words hit you like a slap, your breath catching in your throat.

“what if i want you to be?”

his eyes search yours, as if trying to figure out if you’re serious.

“really?” he asks, his voice dropping lower, softer.

“really.”

his gaze flickers down to your lips, then back to your eyes, and his voice drops even lower, a dangerous edge creeping into it.

you can feel it… you can feel it about to happen.

“even when i’m about to do this?”

before you can process his words, his hand moves to your waist, fingers curling around you in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. he pulls you closer, the heat of his touch searing through the fabric of your clothes.

his lips find yours in a kiss that’s as sudden as it is inevitable.

it’s not gentle—it’s firm, deliberate, and entirely consuming. his other hand comes up to cradle your jaw, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss. your hands instinctively reach for his shoulders, gripping him as if to steady yourself against the storm he’s unleashing.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing hard. the air between you feels different now—heavier, laden with something you can’t quite name but can’t deny.

when jungkook finally pulls away, the world feels quieter, as though it’s holding its breath. his hand slides up, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, and he looks at you softly, his dark eyes searching yours. the tender gesture sends a fresh wave of confusion—and longing—coursing through you.

“bad friend,” you scold him in a whisper.

his lips twitch, a soft laugh escaping him as his thumb grazes your cheek.

“don’t do that,” he says, his voice low, almost pleading.

you raise a brow at him. "do what?"

"don’t friendzone me.”

“why not?”

“i just kissed you.”

“so?”

“so?” he mimics, his tone teasing, but there’s a sharpness in his voice that makes you squirm. his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

“kitty,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a rough whisper, “i’m gonna be impossible to get rid of now."

#jk fic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x yn #jk x reader #bts jk fic #bts fic rec #jk fic rec

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morgluvsconnie · 1 day ago

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armin being overly protective of you,

around his friends and your friends, it really doesn’t matter, he’s overprotective.

walking at the store together, you’re always always in front of him, and if not, right beside him holding his hand.

he knows the sidewalk rule, no matter where you two are, he always makes sure you’re on the safest side. and dare a man stare at you.

“problem?” you’d hear his voice from behind you, grabbing meat from the freezer. “hm?” you hummed softly, looking close at the food you picked up.

“‘scuse me?” you heard another voice.

“you lookin at my girlfriend. you got a problem?” armin questioned whatever man he was talking to.

finally taking your eyes off of the meat and tossing it in the cart, you pat arms chest, “okay, come on, he’s just looking.”

and you’d have to do exactly that. multiple times out of the week.

armin always said it was because you were “too sexy” or “a sight for sore eyes and stuff” and what could you say? you were. but you’d have to remind him, “armin, girls look at you all the time, and i don’t say a thing.”

“okay that’s you.” he’d look away to avoid further conversation, when equaled up to avoiding being wrong.

gas stations, you always had to go inside with him, or facetime him while he walked in the station to pay for gas.

he just had to keep his eyes on you at all times.

“you don’t know what people got goin around here.” he squinted through the window of the drivers side. you rolled your eyes with a small smile.

it was the same for when you were home by yourself, he’d text you every 10-15 minutes to make sure you’re okay.

and a nap? that isn’t an option unless you’re on the phone with him. with the camera on you, just to make sure nothing happens.

armin, it’s just a nap.

call me

why do u gotta be like… this?🤦🏾‍♀️

loving? caring? ik, now call me be4 i get mad.

smoking blunts? you couldn’t hit it until he did twice, just to make sure it’s safe.

getting sick around him? that would be the end of going out, because “you ain’t gon do nothing but get worse, so you might as well stay with me.”

drinking? he had to try it first, even if he hated it.

at the club? don’t even get him started. watching your cup at all times, watching you at all times. and if you had to pee?

“you sure you wanna go in there by yourself? you don’t know who in there.”

like i said, daily routine, if not weekly.

but simply,

he does it out of love because “i care about you, duh.”

first day out, hi, this might be trash ✊🏾🥹 spare me.

#𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚕𝚞𝚟𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎₊✩ˎˊ˗#armin x y/n #armin arlet x reader #armin arlet headcanons #armin x you #armin fluff #armin headcanons #aot armin #armin x reader #armin aot #armin arlert

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haikyu-mp4 · 19 hours ago

Text

A (not so) helping hand

Ennoshita and your son surprise you for Mother's Day, for my Parenting event<3

requested by @ennoshitas-princess. word count; 589 – f!reader

Your husband didn’t stand a chance trying to hide his Mother’s Day plans from you.

You see, your son was a momma’s boy and told you everything like he was the physical version of a gossip magazine from the day his dad said they were going to surprise you.

This is why you understood exactly what was happening when Kiyoko asked you out for lunch on the date that just so happened to be Mother’s Day. Your husband was going to set everything up and needed you out of the house. Lucky for him, you happily played along.

Unfortunately, no amount of snitching could have prepared you to come home to a broken glass vase shattered all over the floor, a cake face down on the floor and the fire alarm going off in the kitchen while your toddler cried into his father’s shoulder as he tried to get the alarm off the ceiling to turn it off.

“Chikara?”

Ennoshita glanced over his shoulder with a sheepish smile. “Happy Mother’s Day!”

5 minutes prior…

Ennoshita hummed softly under his breath with a content smile, dressed in one of his dress shirts that you especially liked while he put the finishing touches on the cake. As it was done, he picked it up to move it to the dining table, glancing around for his kid but mostly focusing on the cake.

“Nugget! There’s some leftover cream, will you help me finish it?“ he offered, hoping his voice would find the toddler somewhere in the living room. However, he didn’t expect to see your son carrying a glass vase filled with the flowers your husband got you for today, still bound up in plastic because he knew you liked preparing them yourself.

Your son did not know that and probably tried to prepare it for you, but how he wobbled on his feet made it really scary to watch him carry such a frail glass object.

“Careful!” Ennoshita yelled, and the cake fell from his hands as he reached for his son the same second the toddler dropped the vase. It shattered on impact, being quite thin and dainty, but Ennoshita had sprung into action quickly enough to get his son off the floor before he could trip onto the shards. He had him in a tight grip by each of his armpits, breathing heavily before pulling him to his chest, assuring himself that his baby was safe and sound.

“Sorry, Daddy. Can I still have the rest of the cream?” he asked, his guilty look familiar by now. Ennoshita sighed and turned around to see that the cake had indeed fallen face down. Lucky him.

And just as he was about to try and do something about it, his nose picked up a sharp smell of… smoke.

“Oh no, no, no!” Not letting go of his son, he ran into the kitchen where the cookies were burnt in the oven, so he quickly turned it off, opening the hatch and then the window, hoping it wouldn’t set off the-

Beep, beep, beep.

…fire alarm.

As his son started wailing in tune with the alarm, tears from all the things happening at once streaming down his face to mix with snot and drip onto his nice shirt, Ennoshita tried to reach up high enough to bring the alarm down.

The only thing that could make this worse, not including anyone getting hurt, was if you came home early…

“Chikara?”

Ennoshita glanced over his shoulder with a sheepish smile. “Happy Mother’s Day!”

masterlist

for the requester: thank you for requesting!! I’m sorry it’s not too fluffy but I’m sure you had a nice evening after you two cleaned everything up<3

thank you @cottonlemonade for helping me with this idea<33

#parenting event #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #fanfiction #hq #haikyuu x you #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #haikyu fluff #haikyuu fluff #ennoshita chikara x reader #ennoshita chikara #ennoshita x reader #haikyuu ennoshita #chikara #ennoshita #karasuno #dad!ennoshita

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 17 hours ago

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@podiumackles

Finally getting a chance to read through Chapter 2! 😃

I really like how you did this chapter in Ben's POV. It's always so interesting to see inside his head, especially because the Boys series didn't give us that much of it!

But the 1980s were a far cry from the battlefields of his youth. Superheroes were no longer symbols of patriotism and sacrifice—they were products, controlled by Vought, manipulated into glossy icons for public consumption. Soldier Boy's clean-cut, all-American image had become a brand, slapped onto cereal boxes and comic books. In private, however, he was chafing under the weight of being Vought’s golden boy. He was a symbol, a puppet, but to his father, he was still just a disappointment.

I love this paragraph and how you started this chapter! I really do think that Ben's father just messed him up royally and that Ben has spent his entire life never feeling like he's enough. BUT. This paragraph is so good because Ben is starting to see through what Vought is doing with all the heroes and that it's becoming a joke to him, and I really love the idea that before Ben went to Russia, he was starting to "wake up" a bit from the stardom.

Also, the reader and Ben's first meeting? THE HATE AT FIRST SIGHT? HELLO? ENEMIES TO LOVERS?! YES PLEASE!

“Maybe you do,” you said, your voice a low murmur now. “But this isn't the ‘40s anymore. It’s not about who’s the toughest soldier out there. This world, Vought’s world, is about control. It’s about image and playing the game.” You glanced around the room at the other supes. “And you, with all your medals and war stories, are just another player.”

The reader is just so... catty... and AWESOME. I love that she can see through the smoke and mirrors to what is really going on underneath and that she has such strong opinions! Also I've talked about this with someone else on here, but I really like it when the reader is strong and opinionated and can put Ben in his place when he gets to be well... Ben lol. So I am VERY excited about this reader and this series!

Still, he knew better than to show weakness. He had perfected the art of hiding his inner turmoil, just as his father had taught him. To the world, he was still the unbeatable war hero, the icon of American masculinity. No one would ever see the cracks beneath the surface—the doubt, the frustration, the endless quest to be enough.

Again, the Ben POV is so spot on with his "endless quest to be enough." And oh goodness the "He had perfected the art of hiding his inner turmoil, just as his father had taught him." Is just so good.

You continued, undeterred by his silence. “But you know, maybe that’s the point. We’re all just playing dress-up here, aren’t we? Vought dresses us up, makes us look shiny, and sends us out to wave at the cameras. Nothing heroic about it.”

Amen 👏🏻

This is so good! There is so much TENSION between Ben and the reader and I am LIVING for it. And you can really feel the way Ben is just struggling to hold on to those old values and try to hold tight to the power he has during this time. I can't wait to read more and learn about their story together!

the moments that stay (they turn out all wrong)

In which the man she could never forget suddenly turns up at her cell, but he has no remembrance of the woman in front of him. And the moments that stayed with her for decades, turn out to be her memories only.

series masterlist

CHAPTER 2

A/N: English isn't my first language!! apologies in advance.

Outlines: After being his sidekick in Payback for years, you-better known as your supename Fury-ended up on the same end of Soldier Boy's violence as every other person. What you didn't realise, however, was that your old team had set you both up for betrayal, right when you thought you were helping them in getting him. After decades of being stuck in Vought's testing lab, you heard Soldier Boy got out. But the man who appeared in front of your cell wasn't the man you knew.

Warnings: not much in this chapter. mentions of power imbalance, possibly swearing, Soldier Boy's incorrect view of what a man needs to be, mentions of (mental) abuse and manipulation, and possibly wrong storytelling in lines of the canon events. I'm not that good at remembering, guys. and the boys was just kinda complicated. forgive me.

1980s

Soldier Boy had noble intentions to protect and serve his country. He had dignity, honour, and believed every man should grow up to be a “real man”, as his father had repeatedly told him.

Enduring the Second World War wasn’t enough.

Becoming a superhero wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough. Not for his father.

His father’s words echoed in his mind, a constant reminder that no matter what he achieved, it was never sufficient.

A real man builds his own success, with his own two hands. He doesn't cheat his way into power.

Those words shaped him, pushing him to become something greater than just a soldier, more than just a hero in the public eye. But no matter how many enemies he thought he vanquished or how many medals adorned his chest, he couldn't escape the feeling that he was failing his father’s impossible standard of manhood.

The breaking point came when Vought began assembling a new team of supes- as Vought would call them- to form the latest supergroup. Ben, a natural leader in his own eyes, felt a simmering resentment. He wasn’t a team player. He was meant to be the star—the hero who stood above the rest, not one who shared the spotlight. To him, the team would only drag him down, undermine his own success, and ruin the carefully crafted image he had worked so hard to build.

But, despite everything, Vought’s grip would always have been too strong. So, despite his disdain, he reluctantly agreed. They understood him. And he needed them. He had been sure he would be appointed the leader of this new group. When he was, he would ensure control over every aspect of the team so they wouldn’t lead to his downfall. This was his time.

As he stood in Vought’s headquarters, a sense of superiority coursed through him. He was the seasoned war hero, the one who had fought on real battlefields. These supes were nothing more than attention-seeking showboats, eager for fame rather than true service.

You, dressed in an orange-red suit, stood next to him with wide-eyed curiosity. You looked like you were barely out of your teens, your youthful face betraying your lack of experience. "Is it true, then?" you asked, your voice a mix of awe and disbelief. "You killed the president?"

Ben thought the suits Vought had made for the team were ridiculous. He wouldn't need a special suit to be the best version of himself. He wouldn't need anything but himself.

Without looking at you, he growled, “You believe everything you hear?”

You blinked, taken aback by his gruff response, but quickly recovered. “No, I just…” you tore your gaze from him, focusing on the other supes getting in the final pieces of their attire. “Would be a shame to be on the team with a murderer.”

Your words lingered in the tight air between you. He realised you had put up a facade, a mask to hide your wariness of the man next to you. You didn’t idolise him. In fact, you might have been close to despising, if he didn’t know any better.

Ben finally turned his head to face you, his eyes cold and unwavering. Your suit tied around your body, but it seemed loose enough to not reveal too much to the outside. Cloves hugged your delicate hands and reached until well near your elbows. A small cape was fastened onto your wrists, which Ben found all the more ridiculous. Who the fuck needs a cape?

“I’m no murderer,” his words were short, harsh. This woman had no right to speak to him like that. “At least not to people who didn’t deserve it.”

“Did he deserve it?” You started, looking back at the slightly taller man next to you. “The president.”

“I didn’t kill the fucking president.”

Soldier Boy’s glare intensified as he sized you up. Your audacity infuriated him. He had dealt with enough scepticism from his father—he didn’t need it from some rookie in a costume Vought had only designed to sell toys.

The room around you buzzed with activity as the other members of the team prepared for their first group appearance. Ben seethed in silence. These so-called superheroes were nothing like the comrades he fought alongside in the war. They lacked discipline, focus, and the hardened edge that came from seeing real combat. They were actors in a carefully orchestrated performance, and to him, that was a disgrace.

You still stood beside him and seemed to sense his irritation, but you didn’t back down. Instead, you tilted your head and raised an eyebrow, as if daring him to lash out.

“You think you're better than us, don’t you?” you asked, your voice quieter this time, but laced with a subtle challenge.

Soldier Boy scoffed, crossing his arms. “Better? I don’t think, doll. I know.”

Your lips curled into a smirk, and for the first time, Ben noticed a flash of something in your eyes—something darker, more calculating than the wide-eyed naivety you'd shown earlier.

Your words rang through his ears more than he’d like to, and he started to think he thought of you wrongly. You weren't an ordinary trophy girl- you weren't someone to idolise him. You had your own strong opinion, and it wasn't something Ben was sure he could live with.

He clenched his fists, a storm of rage starting to brew inside him, but before he could respond, a booming voice cut through the tension.

“Alright, team!” The commanding voice belonged to Vought’s newest public relations handler, a slick man in an expensive suit. “It’s showtime!”

You shot Soldier Boy a final, knowing glance before you turned away, your cape swishing dramatically as you moved toward the centre of the room. Ben remained where he was, his jaw clenched, watching you. He hated your arrogance, but deep down, he knew you weren't wrong.

This wasn’t the battlefield. This wasn’t about sacrifice, honour, or even survival. This was a new kind of war, one he wasn’t sure he knew how to win.

But win it, he would.

Because failure? That was never an option. Not for him. And certainly not for his father.

As the team assembled for their public debut, Soldier Boy straightened his shoulders and put on his best, most patriotic smile. No one in the crowd would ever know the battle raging inside him, the war he fought against the crushing weight of expectations.

He would play the game, for now. And when the time was right, he would remind them all just how dangerous a man like him could be.

Cameras flashed; eight new heroes to represent America, to supposedly save the residents from upcoming threats, upcoming wars.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the commanding voice rang through their ears again. “May I present to you, your heroes, your idols, your team; Payback.”

Pictures were taken, but Ben paid it no mind. He was used to all the attention, to all the girls swooning over him. He stood front and centre, flashing his most practised, toothy grin. The name Payback echoed in his ears. A team to stand up for their people. But this wasn’t about anything but pride to Ben—it was about staying on top, holding onto the power and prestige he had built over decades.

And the team around him felt like a joke.

You stood a little behind him, a faint smirk still playing on your lips. Your audacity lingered in his mind, taunting him. Despite himself, he couldn’t shake the way you had spoken—calm, deliberate, and entirely sure of yourself. That was rare. Most of the other heroes around him were too obsessed with fame and too concerned with their image. They fell in line because Vought told them to.

Ben clenched his jaw, his father's words echoing in his mind once again.

A real man builds his own success, with his own two hands.

But was this success? Standing here, posing for the cameras, while Vought puppeteered them all? It didn’t feel like the heroism he had once envisioned. The battlefield, the grit, the true sacrifice—it had all been replaced by PR campaigns and flashy photo ops.

As the cameras continued snapping, Soldier Boy’s mind wandered your words. It’s about control. Image. Playing the game. You had said those words so matter-of-factly as if you had already accepted the new rules of this world.

After the press conference, the team dispersed to prepare for their first mission together—a staged event, of course, meant to show the world how “heroic” they were. But Soldier Boy lingered, watching as the others left the room.

One thing was certain: he wasn’t going to let anyone take his place at the top. He would play the game his way, and when the time came, he would show them all—Vought, Payback, his father—that he was still the strongest, still the best.

Because if there was one thing Ben knew, it was that in the end, power didn’t come from suits or smiles. Power came from dominance, from control, and from the ability to crush anyone who dared to stand in your way.

And that was exactly what he intended to do.

As he turned to leave, Soldier Boy caught a glimpse of himself in one of the giant mirrors that lined the hallway. He stared at his reflection—his square jaw, broad shoulders, and the tight-fitting mask over his head. He looked every bit the hero Vought had made him out to be. But simultaneously, he looked ridiculous.

“Suits are cool, huh?” your familiar voice spoke up as he left the previous room and wandered the hallways of the slightly known building. “Kidding. You look awful.”

Ben hadn’t thought he looked awful altogether; the green hugged his features wonderfully, the gold details shining as a representation of his pride. Just the mask was a reject.

“Can’t say any different about you.” Ben said matter-of-factly.

The hallway was dimly lit, and he continued walking with purpose, ignoring the voice behind him. He didn’t need anyone's approval—especially not from the cocky rookie now catching up with him. The smirk he had seen earlier was back, and you walked with a casual confidence that irritated him even more.

You weren't one to shy away from confrontation, clearly. Your snarky comment about his suit wasn’t just meant to jab at him; it was part of the ongoing game you seemed intent on playing. Ben found it annoying, yet there was something about you that stood out. You weren't like the obedient pawns he was used to, always falling in line and praising him without question.

"Aw, don’t be like that," you teased, still walking alongside him. Your cape fluttered with each step, an accessory he couldn’t understand the need for, as if to taunt him for eternity. “Just saying, for someone who’s supposed to be the leader, you sure look like you're heading into a costume party instead of a mission.”

Ben clenched his jaw but kept walking. He wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of a response.

“Speak for yourself,” Ben finally muttered, his voice low. “I’ve seen real combat. I’ve been in the trenches. What have you done, other than talk?”

Your smirk didn’t falter, though your eyes darkened slightly. “You’re right,” you said, a hint of venom in your voice. “I haven’t been in your precious war. But I’m not stupid. I know how things work now. And this… all of this,” you gestured around the hall, “isn’t about being a hero. It’s about staying relevant. It’s about power.”

Ben stopped walking, turning to face you. His eyes narrowed as he looked you up and down, sizing you up again. “Power?” he scoffed. “You think prancing around in that cape gives you power?”

Your smirk faded, replaced with a more serious expression. “No, I think understanding how to use what I’ve got gives me power. You’re strong, Soldier Boy. No one’s doubting that. But strength doesn’t mean anything if you don’t know how to play the game. And that’s where you’re going to lose.”

Ben’s fists clenched. “I don’t lose.”

“We’ll see.” You stepped back, eyes locked with his. There was no fear in them, just a cool, calculated calm. “But you should know, they own you, just like they own all of us.”

Silence fell between them, only the annoying presence of you urging him to keep on walking.

“Name’s Fury by the way. For the public, that is.”

He glanced at you quickly, frowning before letting his eyes fall on the relics on the walls when they continued their way.

“Soldier Boy.”

Ben could’ve sworn he heard you laugh; just the faintest hint of a breath leaving your mouth in a way that angered him.

“I know that,” you spoke, and he grew to feel more frustrated at the feeling you wouldn’t leave him alone. “You got a real name?”

“Yes.”

“Mine is Y/n.”

“I don’t fucking care.”

“Alright, I’ll figure it out eventually." Your words echoed in Ben’s mind as you walked away, pace speeding up to leave him alone in the hallway. He stared after you, his mind racing with a storm of thoughts he wasn’t used to entertaining. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to force his mind back to what mattered: control, power, dominance. But your words lingered like a stubborn itch he couldn’t scratch.

You were audacious, irritating, and worst of all, you had a point.

Ben hated to admit it, but you seemed to understand the game better than most. Vought didn’t care about his war stories or his medals. To them, and to the world they controlled, he was just another pawn in a machine far bigger than the battlefield. For all his strength, for all the wars he had fought and won, Ben was no longer the master of his own destiny. He was trapped in a world of PR stunts and corporate interests. And that gnawed at him, more than he cared to admit.

He had always believed power came from raw strength, from being the toughest, the strongest. But this new world, this world of superheroes-for-hire and manufactured images, was different.

Ben’s jaw tightened as he turned and continued down the hallway, alone with his thoughts. Vought owned him, you had said. That was the part that stung the most. He had spent his life trying to prove to his father that he could succeed on his own terms. But the truth was, his success had always been shaped by someone else. First his father, now Vought.

As he entered the large meeting room, where Payback's first mission briefing was about to take place, he felt a new kind of resolve building inside him. He didn’t like playing games, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Vought—or you—think they had the upper hand. He was still Soldier Boy, the greatest hero America had ever known, and he would prove it.

The team was already gathered, some stretching, some chatting, all waiting for their cue from Vought’s handlers. You werethere too, standing off to the side with your arms crossed, your eyes scanning the room with that same calculated coolness. You caught his gaze for a moment, but there was no smirk this time. Just a flicker of something that almost looked like respect—or perhaps it was just curiosity.

He didn’t care.

Ben straightened his shoulders and strode to the front of the room, where the mission briefing was about to begin. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t need anyone to tell him how to lead.

The lights dimmed, and a large screen flickered to life. A Vought executive appeared, slick and polished as always, ready to guide them through their heroic PR spectacle.

The exec began, his voice oozing with rehearsed enthusiasm. “Your mission today is simple: protect, serve, and show the world why Payback is the team they can trust.”

Ben barely listened. The mission was standard fare—save some politicians from a staged crisis, and make it look good for the cameras. Easy. What he cared about was how he would position himself at the top of the group. This wasn’t just about completing the mission; this was about showing everyone that Soldier Boy wasn’t just another cog in the machine.

After some specifics and unnecesary questions from his lower ranked team, they filed out toward the transport that would take them to the mission site. Ben was the last to leave the room, watching as the others chatted excitedly, eager to get into costume and play the part Vought had crafted for them.

He glanced once more at you, your back to him as you spoke quietly with another member of the team. You were different. You weren't a puppet like the others. That made you dangerous.

But Ben wasn’t worried.

Because at the end of the day, he knew one thing for certain: he didn’t lose.

And when the time came, when he reminded the world just what a real man, a real hero, could do, You—and everyone else—would be forced to recognize that.

He was Soldier Boy. And this? This was just the beginning.

A/N: as always, feedback is appreciated! let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

thanks for reading! <3

taglist: @demodemo909 @deangirl96 @mostlymarvelgirl @n-o-p-e-never

#guysireadsomething #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy #jensen ackles #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fic

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jeonsblackgf-writes · 2 days ago

Text

High times & Hellfire | Eddie Munson

summary: Eddie Muson wasn’t the ordinary drug dealer to you, he was something more…you just can’t quite put your finger on it yet.

warnings: smoking

word count: 5,233 (she’s a long one sorry)

pairing: eddie munson x black!reader

AN: im trying to get into writing in the second person. pls lmk how i did lol. this is my first time doing this.

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It’s 1985, and Hawkins High is buzzing with the energy of senior year. Everyone’s excited for graduation, but no one more than you. You were popular, smart, and had a reputation for being both sweet and spicy—just like your personality. You weren’t a cheerleader, not by any means, but you had an effortless cool about you that made everyone want to be your friend. Or at least be around you. You had a way of making everyone feel like they were the most important person in the room, but it was all a balancing act—a way to keep yourself untouchable while still enjoying all the attention.

And there was Eddie Munson. He was your go-to guy for anything you needed, but mostly, you were there for the weed. Eddie was, without a doubt, the coolest kid at Hawkins. Hell, the guy practically ran the Hellfire Club, his own little universe where the outcasts ruled. But while the rest of the school might not have understood Eddie’s brand of chaotic charisma, you got him. You always had.

And Eddie, he liked you in a way that made your connection feel like it was more than just transactions. He knew you had a sharp mind, that you didn’t need him for the weed alone. He respected you for that—something most people couldn’t see past the smoke and mirrors. You two had a bond, and it was undeniable.

It was late on a Friday afternoon when you met him at the usual spot. The corner of the parking lot near the back door of the school—hidden away from prying eyes, a space where you could just… be. Eddie had a new stash for you, as usual, and you couldn’t wait to see what kind of goodies he had this time.

“Hey, beautiful,” Eddie greeted, a grin stretching across his face as you approached. He leaned against the wall, a cigarette dangling from his fingers.

“Hey yourself,” you replied, your voice smooth like honey, but with just enough edge to let him know you weren’t here to play games. You reached for your pack of cigarettes, matching his vibe, pulling out a long, thin one. You’d been smoking for a while now, and your preference had shifted to the slow, relaxing kind of high that came with marijuana. It was Eddie who had introduced you to it, and he’d been your supplier ever since.

“You know, I was just thinking,” you said, taking a drag of your cigarette. “I could just come to your Hellfire meetings and hang out, but… that’d be too easy, wouldn’t it?”

Eddie’s eyes lit up, amused by your comment. “Are you offering to join the ranks of the legendary Hellfire Club? We might just make an exception for you.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you laughed. “I’m just here for the goods today.”

Eddie smirked and fished around in his jacket pocket before pulling out a small baggie. “Got something special today. Gotta try it before you buy it, as always.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s so special about it this time?”

Eddie leaned in closer, the familiar scent of musk and weed mixing with his cologne. “It’s a hybrid—half sativa, half indica. Thought it might be right up your alley. Something that’ll give you a good high, but still leave you with that clear head you like.”

You took the bag from him and examined it, the little nugs inside looking especially pristine. “You really know me, Eddie.”

He chuckled, “Of course I do. We’ve been doing this for what? A year now?”

It had been just about that long since Eddie had first made you one of his regulars, back when you’d stumbled into his world by accident. You remembered the first time you’d asked him for weed, how he’d given you a skeptical look but agreed, a little wary of selling to someone who wasn’t exactly his usual crowd. But you charmed him in your own way, and from that moment on, he’d always had something for you, a steady supplier who treated you like someone more than just a customer.

You smiled, tucking the bag into your jacket. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it. You wanna join me for a smoke? Or are you too busy making Hellfire plans?”

Eddie gave a dramatic sigh, looking at the time. “I suppose I could spare a few minutes. The dungeon calls, but I can always get back to my party planning later.”

You led the way, walking to the secluded spot behind the school where the two of you had smoked together countless times. The air was thick with the smell of cigarettes and weed as you both settled against the brick wall, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the parking lot.

As you lit up the joint, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at Eddie. His wild hair, his clothes, his whole chaotic energy… It was all so intoxicating. Not just his weed. Him, too.

“Tell me,” you said, as the smoke filled your lungs and drifted lazily upward, “what’s the deal with the Hellfire Club anyway? You guys just get together and play Dungeons & Dragons, or is there something more?”

Eddie chuckled, taking the joint from you, his fingers brushing against yours for just a moment too long. “It’s a little more complicated than that. We’re like… a family. All of us are outsiders in one way or another. We get together and forget about everything else. The world doesn’t always treat us right, but at least we have each other, you know?”

You nodded. “I get it. You guys are a good crew. And, hey, it’s not like the rest of Hawkins is exactly kind to you either. You make it work. That’s what matters.”

Eddie’s gaze softened, his usual devil-may-care expression giving way to something more genuine. “Yeah, well, it’s easier when you’ve got someone like you around.” He paused, almost as if he was waiting for your reaction. “You don’t exactly fit the mold of the rest of the people who hang around here.”

You exhaled a cloud of smoke and gave him a sideways glance. “I’m not like everyone else. Never have been.”

“And that’s why you’re here with me.” Eddie grinned, leaning back against the wall, looking almost mischievous. “You’re not the typical pretty, perfect cheerleader who can’t do anything but look cute. You’ve got brains. And attitude.”

“Is that a compliment, Munson?”

“Take it how you want,” Eddie smirked. “But yeah, it’s a compliment.”

The two of you sat there in comfortable silence, passing the joint back and forth, the world outside fading away. It was moments like these that made you feel like everything was right—like you could forget about the pressure of school, the looming future, and just exist in this small bubble with Eddie.

You could feel the warmth of the sun fading as evening approached, the chill setting in with the promise of a long night ahead. You were getting lost in the high, the connection you shared, and the way Eddie made you feel—like you were the only person who mattered in the whole damn town.

“So, what’s on the agenda for tonight, Eddie?” you asked, tapping the ash off your cigarette.

“Well,” Eddie began, “we’ve got our usual Hellfire session, but after that, I might just have something a little more… personal planned.”

You tilted your head, curious. “Oh really? And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He gave you a sly grin, his eyes flicking to yours, and for a moment, you both just stared at each other, the air thick with unspoken words. You knew he wasn’t just talking about the weed anymore.

“Maybe we’ll find out after the meeting,” Eddie said cryptically, his tone suggestive.

You smiled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I’m looking forward to it.”

As the smoke continued to swirl around the two of you, the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, and the air grew crisp. Eddie’s words lingered in the space between you, a little mystery in them that you couldn’t shake. There was something more, something beneath the surface of your usual banter, and you couldn’t help but be curious about where it might lead.

“You’re not planning on skipping the Hellfire meeting, are you?” Eddie asked, breaking the comfortable silence, his voice a little teasing. He took another drag of his cigarette, blowing out a perfect ring of smoke that drifted lazily into the cool evening air.

You shook your head. “No way. I’m not that heartless. Besides, I’m curious about what new adventures your D&D crew is going to get into.”

Eddie laughed, that deep, infectious chuckle that you always found so endearing. “It’s more than just an adventure. It’s a full-on journey,” he said with a mock-serious tone. “I’ve been planning a campaign for weeks. It’s gonna be epic.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling. “You and your Hellfire. You guys are like a secret society, plotting world domination through dice rolls.”

Eddie shot you a wink. “That’s the plan. One dungeon at a time.”

You finished your cigarette and flicked it to the ground, crushing it under your boot. You’d already smoked the joint he’d rolled for you, and now you were feeling that familiar wave of warmth and calm, a gentle high that made everything feel a little more… right. It was hard to explain, but whenever you were around Eddie, time seemed to slow down. You weren’t sure if it was the weed, the company, or a little bit of both, but you always felt at ease with him.

Eddie stood up, brushing off his jacket as he held out his hand to you. “Alright, enough of the smoke break. Let’s get this over with, and then we can really get to the fun part.”

You eyed his hand for a second before taking it, your fingers briefly brushing against his. The touch sent a small shock through you, something electric, and for a split second, you hesitated. But only for a second. You grabbed his hand and let him pull you up, feeling his warmth as he steadied you.

“You know,” you said, giving him a playful smile, “I think I could get used to this. Hanging around with you, I mean.”

Eddie grinned, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “I’m a hell of a lot more fun than most people around here, huh?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, glancing down at your shoes as you both started walking toward the school’s main building. “You definitely are.”

By the time you reached the Hellfire Club’s meeting spot, the large, old boiler room in the basement of Hawkins High, the rest of the group was already there. You’d been to a few meetings before, mostly just hanging out while Eddie and the others played their game, but tonight felt different. It was like you and Eddie were sharing something unspoken, and you weren’t sure if anyone else had noticed.

The air inside the basement was thick with the smell of pizza and soda, and the usual energy of the Hellfire Club filled the room. The usual cast of characters was present: Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Will—all the guys who were usually inseparable from Eddie. You were the only one who didn’t quite fit the mold, but that didn’t bother you. If anything, it made you feel like you had an edge, a way of seeing things no one else did. Eddie made sure you were never an outsider.

“Hey, look who’s here,” Dustin said with a grin, looking up from the game board where his character was just about to face off against a monstrous dragon. “The queen of cool herself.”

You shot Dustin a playful look, sitting down on the old, mismatched couch in the corner, close enough to Eddie but not directly in his space. Not yet.

“Queen of cool?” you repeated with a raised eyebrow. “You better watch it, Henderson. I could teach you a thing or two about being cool.”

Eddie chuckled, sitting at the head of the table with a smug look on his face. He seemed to enjoy the banter that flowed so easily between you and the others. It was almost as if you were part of their world without needing to be directly involved in their game.

“So, what’s the plan tonight?” you asked, leaning back into the couch, taking another drag of your cigarette. “Are we saving the kingdom again or slaying more dragons?”

Eddie grinned widely, clearly excited. “Oh, we’re doing both, baby,” he said, gesturing to the map he’d spread out in front of him. “We’re heading into the depths of the Underdark tonight. Things are about to get real dark and twisted.”

“Sounds fun,” you said, eyes glinting. You were high enough now to enjoy the sound of their nerdy talk, even if you didn’t totally understand all the references. Hell, you didn’t need to. You were here for Eddie.

The session kicked off with all the usual enthusiasm, everyone getting involved in their characters’ quests and battling off the imaginary beasts Eddie had conjured up. You could see how deeply invested they all were, the way Eddie led them through the storyline with a mix of humor and intensity, his voice deepening as he described the dungeons and creatures that lurked within.

But as the game went on, your mind wandered back to Eddie. He was in his element, clearly, but there was something about the way he kept glancing over at you that you couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t just a look—it was a pull, a silent conversation that played out between you and him with no one else in the room aware.

You shifted on the couch, catching his gaze for just a moment. Eddie’s lips quirked into a knowing grin, and your stomach fluttered. You had the feeling this meeting wouldn’t just end with pizza and dice. No, there was something else in the air tonight. Something that had been building up for weeks now.

The game continued into the night, but you could feel the tension between you and Eddie growing with every passing minute. After a while, the guys started to lose interest, their focus drifting from the game to the usual late-night chatter and laughter. Eddie noticed it too, his eyes drifting back to you, and he suddenly stood up.

“Alright, that’s enough of that for tonight,” Eddie announced, standing up from the table. “I think we’ve battled enough monsters for one evening.”

The guys groaned in protest but didn’t push him on it. They were used to Eddie’s whims, especially when his focus shifted elsewhere. He turned to you with a mischievous smile.

“So, you ready to get out of here?” Eddie asked, the question almost too casual, though you could see the spark in his eyes.

You didn’t need to say a word. You just stood up, following him as he made his way toward the door, his hand brushing against yours again. This time, you didn’t hesitate. You grabbed his hand, holding on just a little longer than necessary.

When you stepped out into the cool night air, the world outside seemed quieter, more distant. It was just you and Eddie, two souls connected by more than just weed or friendship. Tonight, it felt like you were on the cusp of something new.

“You know,” you said, your voice low and teasing, “I never figured you for the type to wrap up a D&D session early.”

Eddie’s grin was all teeth. “Maybe I just have better things to do.”

“Better things, huh?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

Eddie’s gaze flickered to yours, his tone dropping. “Let’s find out.”

You and Eddie walked in companionable silence, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallways of Hawkins High. The night air was cool, the stars above twinkling faintly as you made your way toward the parking lot. There was a strange, electric buzz in the air—something unspoken, something that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks. The weed was still swirling in your mind, adding a dreamlike quality to everything around you, but it was more than that. It was Eddie.

He stopped just short of the parking lot, turning to face you, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to blur. The only thing that mattered was the way his eyes were locked on you, the way his lips twitched into a smile, like he was trying to figure out something about you—or maybe about himself.

“So,” Eddie started, his voice low, “we’re alone now. The game’s over. No more Hellfire. Just you and me.”

You tilted your head, feeling your heartbeat quicken. “Yeah, I noticed. I’m starting to get the feeling you’re trying to tell me something.”

Eddie took a step closer, closing the gap between you, and you felt that familiar heat rise in your chest. “Maybe I am,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “But I don’t know if you’re ready to hear it.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile pulling at the corners of your lips. “Eddie, if you’re trying to be mysterious, it’s working.”

Eddie’s grin spread wider, but there was something different about it now. It wasn’t just playful—it was sincere, almost vulnerable in a way that you hadn’t seen before. His usual bravado was still there, but now it felt like he was letting down some of his walls, just a little.

He took another step toward you, and this time, you didn’t move away. You let him close the space between you, your body responding to his presence in a way that was almost instinctual. He was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, the scent of his cologne mingling with the faint musk of the weed still clinging to your clothes.

“I think,” Eddie said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve been wanting to say this for a while now, but I didn’t know how.”

You looked up at him, your pulse racing. “What’s that?”

He met your gaze, his dark eyes full of something that made your stomach flip. “I don’t just want to be your weed guy, y’know? I’ve… I’ve been wanting more than that for a while.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged. For a moment, you just stared at him, your heart thumping in your chest. Was he really saying what you thought he was saying?

You took a deep breath, your voice steady but filled with curiosity. “More? Like what, Eddie?”

Eddie ran a hand through his messy hair, a nervous habit that you knew well. He was always a little unsure when it came to anything outside of his comfort zone, but you could see that he was trying. Trying to make himself vulnerable in a way he rarely did with anyone.

“I don’t know. I’m not great with words, okay? But I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. Not just as… y’know, a friend who smokes with me, or a girl who comes to my Hellfire meetings. I think you know that, right?” His eyes were earnest now, and the usual sarcasm in his voice had faded.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your nerves. This felt different than anything you’d expected when you first started hanging out with Eddie. The connection you shared had always been strong, but this? This was something new. Something uncharted.

“I… I had a feeling,” you admitted, your voice a little softer than usual.

Eddie stepped even closer now, until you were standing mere inches apart. You could feel the heat of his body radiating against yours, and the air between you crackled with anticipation. It felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you in this moment.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice barely a breath. “You think I’ve been wanting this too?”

Your eyes flickered to his lips for just a second, before locking with his gaze again. You nodded slowly. “I think you have.”

The smile that broke out on Eddie’s face was the most genuine you’d seen from him all night. His hands hovered at his sides, as if unsure whether to reach for you or not. But you didn’t need to wait for him to make the first move. You stepped forward, your hand resting gently on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

“Then why don’t you kiss me, Eddie?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but filled with something stronger than curiosity now. Something more like desire.

Eddie’s breath hitched at your words, and for a second, you thought he might freeze up. But instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours just lightly at first, testing. The feeling of him so close to you, his warmth, his breath, the sweet taste of the cigarette smoke still lingering on his lips—it was everything you’d wanted and more.

The kiss deepened, slow and tentative at first, but then with more urgency, more passion, as if neither of you could hold back anymore. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, the heat of his body against yours setting every nerve on fire. You could feel his heartbeat racing beneath your palms, matching your own. His lips were soft but demanding, a perfect mix of tenderness and hunger that had you leaning into him, wanting more. He let out a soft moan, the sound going straight to your core. As he was tilting his head as he continued to dig deeper in your mouth, Eddie’s hand slid up to your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. His lips were warm, urgent, as though he was trying to anchor himself to you in a world that seemed to be falling apart. You responded in kind, your hands tangled in his messy hair as the world outside faded away.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and a little dizzy, you both stood there for a moment, eyes locked. You didn’t need to say anything—everything was clear in the way he looked at you, the way you felt connected in this moment that was somehow both familiar and brand new.

Eddie’s voice was rough as he spoke, his hand still resting gently on your waist. “So… that’s what you were waiting for, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, still feeling the lingering effects of the kiss on your lips. “Maybe,” you replied, voice teasing. “I’m not always the easiest to read, Munson. But I think you figured it out.”

He chuckled, pressing his forehead against yours, and for a moment, the world outside seemed so far away. It was just you and Eddie now, no longer just a supplier and a customer, no longer just friends. Something had shifted, and you both knew it.

“We should probably get out of here before the guys start wondering where we went,” Eddie said after a beat, his voice lighter now, but still laced with that underlying tension. He pulled away, but not too far. “You wanna head back to my place? We can watch a movie, or… whatever.”

You grinned, taking his hand as you both turned toward the parking lot. “I think I’m in the mood for whatever, Eddie.”

He looked at you, that familiar mischievous spark back in his eyes. “I’m glad you said that,” he said, and the two of you headed out into the night, the start of something new between you both unfolding with every step.

The drive to Eddie’s place was short, but the tension in the car felt palpable, the silence between you both almost electric. You had a feeling neither of you quite knew how to break it, but you also didn’t mind. There was something comforting in the quiet, the soft hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of the wind as you drove under the streetlights.

Eddie was focused on the road, but you could feel his eyes glancing over at you every now and then, like he was checking in, making sure you were still there, still with him. The air between you was different now, charged with something unspoken, a kind of anticipation that hummed in your veins.

When you finally reached his trailer, the small, worn-down place that had always been a refuge for Eddie, he killed the engine and turned to face you. His eyes were soft now, a little more serious than usual.

“So…” Eddie began, rubbing the back of his neck in that familiar, nervous gesture. “You wanna come inside, or…?”

You gave him a smile, the kind of smile that made your heart race a little. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

The two of you got out of the car, and as you walked toward the trailer, Eddie’s hand found yours again, lacing your fingers together. It felt so natural, like it was always meant to be this way. The gesture was simple, but the connection was undeniable. You didn’t need to say anything—there was no need for words right now. The pull between you two was strong enough on its own.

When you stepped inside Eddie’s trailer, the familiar warmth of the place enveloped you. The dim lighting, the cluttered shelves filled with band posters, books, and strange trinkets—it was quintessentially Eddie. It felt lived-in, comfortable, like the world outside didn’t exist here. You’d been in and out of his place a few times before, but tonight, everything felt different.

Eddie turned on a lamp, casting a soft glow across the room, and motioned for you to sit on the couch. He took a moment to grab a couple of beers from the fridge, handing one to you with a grin. “Cheers,” he said, clinking his bottle against yours before taking a long swig.

You watched him for a moment, the way his hair fell in loose waves around his face, the way he moved so effortlessly, like he was always in his element here. There was a sense of calm about him that you admired, something that had drawn you to him from the very beginning.

“So, uh…” Eddie said, his voice slightly hesitant but still light. “What now? We’re alone, and the night’s ours, so… what’s next?”

You tilted your head, leaning back into the couch and looking at him with a mischievous smile. “I don’t know. What did you have in mind?”

Eddie’s gaze flickered from your face to your lips, and for a second, you thought he might shy away, but he didn’t. Instead, he closed the distance between you, sitting down next to you on the couch, his knee brushing against yours. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“I think I’ve waited long enough,” Eddie said softly, his voice almost a whisper. He didn’t give you a chance to respond before his lips were on yours again, this time more urgent, more insistent, like he was trying to convey everything he couldn’t put into words.

The kiss was different this time, more than just a playful tease. There was a depth to it, a connection that reached beyond the physical. His hands cupped your face gently, pulling you closer, and you melted into him, your body responding to the heat of his touch. Every kiss, every brush of his lips against yours, was like a promise—one you couldn’t quite understand but couldn’t deny either.

When you finally broke away, gasping for breath, you rested your forehead against his, the soft rhythm of your heartbeats syncing together.

“That,” you breathed, “was… exactly what I needed.”

Eddie chuckled softly, his fingers tracing small circles on your arm as he leaned back, but his eyes never left you. “I’m glad I could be of service,” he said, his voice low and teasing again. But there was something in the way he looked at you that made the teasing feel more like a genuine moment of affection.

You reached up, gently pushing a stray lock of hair out of his face, your fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “You know,” you said with a playful smile, “I think I’m starting to get why people can’t stop talking about you.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking up into a smirk. “Oh yeah? And what exactly are they saying?”

You shrugged casually, trying to hide the way your stomach fluttered at the thought of him. “You’ve got your own thing, Eddie. People like you because you’re different. You don’t try to fit in, and I respect that.”

He let out a soft laugh, clearly pleased by the compliment. “I’m not trying to fit in. Why would I want to be like everyone else?”

“You shouldn’t,” you agreed, giving him a smile that was equal parts affection and mischief. “Being yourself is way better than trying to be anyone else.”

Eddie’s expression softened, and for a moment, you saw the genuine Eddie, the one behind the jokes and the loud persona—the one who was unsure but never afraid to be authentic. He reached out and brushed his hand over yours, his touch gentle and almost shy.

“I like being around you,” he said, his voice quieter now, a hint of vulnerability in his words. “I always have.”

The sincerity of his words caught you off guard, and you couldn’t help but smile. “I like being around you, too.”

There was a beat of silence between you two, a moment where everything felt perfect, like you were both waiting for something to happen but not in a rush. Eddie’s eyes flickered down to your lips again, and you could feel that familiar tension building once more.

Without saying another word, he kissed you again, but this time, it was slower, more deliberate, like he was savoring the moment. The kiss deepened, and you responded in kind, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

And for a moment, everything outside of that trailer—outside of this room, outside of Hawkins—faded away. It was just the two of you, lost in each other, lost in a feeling you both had been searching for without knowing it.

When you finally broke away again, both of you breathless and with flushed cheeks, Eddie gave you a soft smile. His thumb brushed over your lip, the gesture tender, and it made your heart skip a beat.

“You know,” he said, his voice a little rough from the kiss, “this isn’t what I expected our night to turn into, but I think it’s exactly what I needed.”

You smiled back, your heart still racing from the intensity of the moment. “Same here.”

Eddie leaned back into the couch, pulling you with him so that your head rested on his shoulder. The two of you sat in silence for a while, the peaceful quiet of the trailer wrapping around you like a blanket. Outside, the sounds of Hawkins were distant, but here, in this moment, everything felt right.

“I think this is the start of something pretty great,” you murmured, your voice soft but full of promise.

Eddie didn’t say anything at first, but you felt his arm tighten around you in agreement. “Yeah,” he said finally, his voice filled with that same warmth. “I think it is.”

And just like that, you both drifted into a comfortable silence, your connection deepening in a way that neither of you had expected, but both of you knew was real.

——————————————-

AN: luv me some eddie, how i do ?

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #black reader #interracial #black!reader #x black reader

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blackfemdoll · 3 days ago

Text

i’m sexy so he nervous, ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ takuma ino

black!fem!reader makes ino nervous from being so sexy. weed consumption. has the word ‘nigga’ in here. ino is wasian. reupload, wc 2.6k

blackfemdoll probably going to add more parts. i love the idea of making ino babble just off of aura.

“why you always wearing a beanie?”

ino looked at her with his eyebrows raised, two hands holding a wood horizontally as he moistened the brown leaf. then when what she asked registered, he pulled the leaf from his lips, shaping the soon-to-be blunt.

“oh,” he muttered once her question registered. then he returned his eyes to his rolling tray and began assorting the crumbled plant into his wet leaf canoe.

“it’s actually not a beanie,” he corrected as he used an old gift card to scoop the weed up. “it’s a mask.” he dumped the contents into the blunt.

she playfully rolled her eyes. “well, why you always wearing a mask?”

ino smirked as he pearled.

she couldn’t lie, seeing a nigga perfectly roll was attractive, even though she didn’t really smoke like that — definitely not blunts. she cool with her joints. so maybe that’s where her fascination came from. he did it so smoothly, no clumsiness. she liked that. she liked the way he rolled. sure, she knew she and ino were friends; that didn’t mean she couldn’t look.

so she looked a lot, actually. when he rolled, when he played video games, when he skated. the way he held onto the steering wheel with one hand. the way he sat with his legs a bit spread. the way he always hid his figure behind large, baggy black clothes. but she always was so unassuming about it. he never noticed her doing so. granted, he was a bit oblivious in general.

he located a lighter, smirk still on his lips, and flicked it. “gotta be ready,” he teased, dragging the small flame along the body of the blunt.

her thin y2k-inspired eyebrows furrowed. “ready for what?”

ino inspected the dryness. in his opinion, it could dry a little longer. so he brought the lighter back up and flicked the light, proceeding in running it along the leaf.

“for when i stick people up,” he replied coolly. then he formed a gun with his hand, followed by childish little pew pew sounds.

it took everything in her to not facepalm.

“you so corny, ino. seriously,” she stressed with a little smile. “i wanna know. i don’t think i ever seen you with your bean— mask off.”

then she plopped beside him on his bed as he rolled. “i finished rolling your joint, by the way,” he added in.

her eyes sparkled, she ain’t even notice! considering she sucked at rolling, she gleefully plucked the rose joint from his rolling tray. he specifically bought the rose joints for her — he personally thought they smoked decent. but he was a blunt guy through and through.

“yeah, i don’t know. i’m so used to it being on, i feel kinda naked without it,” he answered with a shrug and a shy smile. he checked if the blunt was still moist by lightly sliding his fingers along its surface. and deciding it was dry enough, ino reached for the lighter beside him and immediately lit. when he was done, he passed the lighter to her.

she accepted it and hummed thoughtfully, bringing her rose joint up to her lips and lighting it. then she inhaled. she loved her way the petals tasted. exhale.

“would you take it off for me?” she leaned back on his bed, using her right forearm to prop her weight on. then she swung her legs off the edge of the mattress. she smiled sweetly, trying to sway him with her doll-like eyes.

ino intended to give her a side-eye, but seeing her in his peripheral leaning back like that, he couldn’t help himself. his eyes flickered down to her body. he knew his friend was a very desirable woman, but that cheetah print tube top and her low rise jeans were so… ahhh. and her waist was so… ahhh. she had a little ring through both the top and bottom of her bellybutton. it was like a sexy ass constellation. ahhh.

he was unsure what lotion or body oil she used, but it always left behind a sheer glittery shimmer on her skin which popped on her deep complexion and the fragrance was so sweet and warm. if he didn’t have home training, he would’ve been barking like a dog. but his mama taught him how to act around pretty women; when he got around one, he never acted like he hadn’t. don’t nothing put a baddie off like that.

so he tried to ignore it, but she wasn’t an idiot. she knew that he was ogling. she didn’t particularly mind though. he was respectfully quiet about it, so she allowed it. she didn’t blame him. after all, she was so fine. she liked the attention as well. and lastly, she liked the attention from him in particular.

she acted oblivious though, flipping her long braids over her shoulder. this movement caused him to realize he was staring — through a side eye — and his eyes raised to catch hers. she gave him a knowing smirk.

he redirected his attention to his rolling tray. “yeah. go ahead, take it off of me,” he muttered, feeling timid.

she couldn’t hide her giddy smile as she ashed her joint on the rolling tray and scooted closer to him. she raised her manicured hand up to gently pull the beanie-looking mask from his head. then she marveled at him as his hair fell in place. he felt his cheeks grow hot at the proximity and her admiration.

she set the beanie behind them both, not once breaking her eyes from his unveiled hair. “can i touch it?”

he relit the blunt and inhaled from it. “yeah.”

she ran her fingers through his dark brown hair. ino was wasian — half japanese, half white. even though his hair color probably came from his brunette white parent, his texture most definitely came from his japanese parent. it was so thick, so strong, so soft. he was already cute, but him with his hair down? he was fine. she saw the potential even if he didn’t.

“you look good,” she complimented softly, still styling his hair with her fingers. “you should wear it out more.”

ino’s breath hitched when he felt her fingers brush the nape of his neck. “t-thank you,” he replied, his shoulders raising from tension.

she sat close to him before, but in that tube top and her silage enveloping him… he felt a little more fidgety than usual.

her eyebrows furrowed as her eyes lowered to the side of his face. then she dropped her hands to her lap. “why you flinching?” she inquired. he didn’t respond, he just put his rolling tray on his nightstand and squirmed.

“i’m not flinching,” he weakly defended, but she could see a peach color dusting his cheeks. he was blushing. deeply. and she had no idea why. she just kept watching him tense up beside her, his eyes flickering from her exposed thighs, then back to his lap. like he was trying not to get caught.

it took her a few moments to decode his strange behavior, but then a realization dawned on her. she fought the urge to giggle once she connected the dots.

of course. she sexy so he nervous.

she smiled to herself. she loved when guys acted like aliens next to bad bitches. it was cute. he was cute. so she wanted to play a little bit — they flirted here and there in the past, but she never explicitly let ino know what was up with her. now was a good time, considering he was helping himself to admiring her.

she got a little closer. her shoulder brushed his. with a little smile, she spoke with a lower, breathier murmur. her eyes never left the side of his head, but he kept his eyes forward like a racehorse with blinders.

“am i making you nervous?” then she brushed some of his hair behind his ear.

ino’s heart skipped a beat. he was going to lie, but that’d be so embarrassingly obvious. so he just responded honestly as he twirled the blunt in his fingertips, needing stimulation. looking sheepish, he nodded. “y-yeah, a little bit.”

“why? it’s just me,” she feigned oblivion.

he hurriedly lit his blunt to take some of the nerves away. “yeah, b-but you’re so close…” he inhaled. exhale.

“what’s wrong with that?” her voice was so hard to listen to like this. she already had such an attractive accent. but when it was low like that and all whispery, it made the hairs on his neck stand up. “do you want me to back up?”

“no, you can stay,” he offered, cheeks still hot. “but like… not to be weird, but you’re just so pretty and you smell so good,” he admitted timidly. “you sound so good.”

she pushed herself closer to him. “why would it be weird?”

“‘cause we’re friends,” he retorted, somewhat innocently.

twirling one of his tendrils around her index finger, she shrugged. “you can think your friend is pretty. and smells good. and sounds good. there ain’t no rule against that.” she began caressing his head.

“yeah…” he agreed with another inhale from his blunt. “i just don’t know how to take it.” with his words, smoke fell from his pink lips. her eyes flickered down.

“take it however you want to.”

then she stood up and removed herself from him. the little dip in the bed filled out, and ino found himself wanting her close again. he watched her saunter over to his nightstand and pick the rose joint up. she turned around and plucked the lighter from his frozen hands. he didn’t realize he was so stunned by what happened that he just… stopped moving.

she lit the joint. “thank you,” then she slid the lighter back in his hand.

she returned to the same leaned-back position she was in before she began teasing him.

she was so pretty when she smoked. her brown-lined glossy lips wrapped around the end, and she sucked, which illuminated the other end of the joint. she removed the joint from her lips, held the smoke for a few seconds, then exhaled. smoke surrounded them.

she had an eased expression with her incoming high. “so how do you want to take it?”

his eyes widened and he stiffened. it was easy to mindlessly flirt in passing, but when it felt so direct and personal, he became subdued. he wanted to do some real nasty shit. but he didn’t want to say that, it would be too forward. instead, he preferred for her to take control.

“h-however you want to, i guess,” is what he stammered out.

she had a twinkle in her eye as she took another hit. “come on, baby. use your words.” she adjusted herself on the bed, now laying on her side and facing him. she was like a panther, having her prey right where she wanted him before she pounced.

to be honest, he wanted to kiss her. he really wanted to kiss her. he thought about it a few times, wondering what lips so glossy and thick would feel like against his. he imagined how his hands would settle above her hips as she straddled him. he saw her dance before — her waistline was insane. so he also pondered how fluid she would grind into him. she had such an effortlessly seductive aura, ino was a bit shocked she was even entertaining him. he was a bit dorky, he ain’t know what to do with allat! he wasn’t going to act like he did. but she asked so…

“well…” he began, setting the lighter down so he could rub the back of his neck. “i kinda want to kiss you.”

her eyebrow quirked up. “do you kinda want to, or do you just want to?”

he cleared his throat. “i want to kiss you.”

she looked at him with low-lidded eyes and picked the lighter up from where he left it. her dark chocolate eyes scanned him as she did a quick one over, taking in his body language and his expression. he was so awkward, bracing himself for rejection but still anticipating her approval. she smiled to this. she loved how her weed-dealing, gun-toting, stoner friend was tamed into a fidgeting, blushing mess.

“come here,” she commanded softly before she drew smoke from the rose joint. he obliged, scooting closer. since her lungs were full, she only indicated with a twitch of her finger than he come closer. he, again, obeyed.

she wrapped a hand behind his neck to bring him face-to-face with her. then her fingers moved from his neck to his jaw, and she gently squeezed. assuming she was telling him to open his mouth, he did as instructed. then she neared him, placing her lips right in front of his. his whole body was on fire as he could feel the ghost of her mouth against his. she was so close, but so far.

parting her lips, she slowly blew the rose-flavored smoke into his mouth. his eyes widened, but he didn’t waste a bit of it. he felt his lungs fill with her essence. he felt so slutted out, buttt… he couldn’t say he minded.

finally, she sealed the smoke in his lungs with a kiss. he froze at the initial contact, then melted into her softness. she returned her free hand to the nape of his neck as she pulled him closer, pressing her chest to his.

after a few moments, she pulled away as he dazedly pushed the smoke from his lungs. what a tease. a cherry-colored shimmer was left on his lips, matching his flushed cheeks. the kiss lasted no longer than five seconds, but he was ridiculously turned on. she knew because her own core throbbed. feeling a mixture of prideful and flustered, she set her joint down in the rolling tray.

“how was it?” she questioned. but from his deer-in-headlights look, she knew she had him.

kissing her was like staring into the sun. her lips were so soft, with a subtle fruity flavor. she didn’t add any tongue, but she didn’t need to — just the pressure of her lips against his had his hands frozen at his sides. ino had kissed people before, but with her, he forgot all motor functions. he almost forgot how to kiss, then he realized he wanted to impress her so he put that work in.

ino blinked a few times. “so good…” he muttered.

“mm,” she hummed, flipping her braids over her shoulder. a few moments of silence passed as they both processed what happened.

she enjoyed kissing him — at first, he was too stunned to kiss back. but once the initial shock wore off, he reciprocated her slow, deep movements. it felt like a french kiss without the tongue. so simple, but so intimate. she had to pull away because she felt herself getting wet. and yet, she regretted removing herself from him. he felt so good, she knew she wanted to kiss his little shy ass at least one more time. and this time? with a lot of tongue and spit.

biting her lip, she looked away from him and began tracing patterns into his bed. “…do you wanna do it again?” asking for herself.

still dazed, ino’s head bobbed slowly. “mhm.”

to this, her darkened eyes settled on him. she sat up, tucking her feet underneath her bum before leaning forward. feeling the bed shift under her weight, ino turned his head to watch her inquisitively. then their gazes met.

not once breaking eye contact, she pushed her braids back behind her head. she smiled a sweet smile. “then come and kiss me, boy.”

#𝒷𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓀𝒻𝑒𝓂𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓈 #𝒿𝒿𝓀𝒹𝑜𝓁𝓁 #˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ ms. takuma ino ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊#black!fem!reader #black!y/n #jjk x reader #x #jujutsu kaisen #ino takuma #black!writer #black!reader

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