#i preferred the urge to slice my arms open and peel my skin off over this

[valleyfthdolls]

The urge to just fucking break down crying over any tiny inconvenience nowadays is just lovely

[imagine-loki]

Can you Keep A Secret

TITLE: Can you keep it a secret?  CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 3 of 4

AUTHOR: ValarieRavenhearst2 ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine working with Loki in some way but you keep your distance because you have a massive crush on him and you tend to always embarrass yourself. Alas you find yourself in need of his help as you need his magic and he’s the only one for the job.

  All the incubators in the lab make it feel like a sauna today, with so many new species needing direct heat, we’ve had to give them their own room. All my specimens look healthy and well after yesterdays’ sampling and I record their status on my iPad. After working by myself for half an hour I make the easy decision to take my jumper off before I start to sweat. As I start to wiggle out of it by easing it over my head, my shirt begins to rise with it and I make that awkward wiggle to try and magically make my shirt fall down without putting my arms back down. Whilst in the midst of my struggle I can hear the keypad being used to unlock the lab door and instinctively I throw myself to my knees to hide as my shirt has risen over my bra. Instant regret. I quickly correct myself on the ground as I hear Dr Banner and another botanist talking idly. The side of my abdomen stings viciously in warning as the material of my shirt goes back over it. I quickly flip it up again to inspect a small scratch now etched over my ribs, ending just under my bra. I hiss quietly in annoyance at my own stupidity as I stand calmly to inspect what I could have scratched myself on.   Dr Banner greets me in surprise, obviously questioning what I am doing on the ground.

“Good morning.” I give them both a greeting smile, “I just dropped my jumper.” I wave it at them as proof and they go back to their conversation whilst I look at the plant specimens in front of me. This odd, black looking orchidaceous plant looks awfully ominous with its long bristly thorns of an olive green hue. It must have been the culprit as none of its neighbours have any type of protruding bristles. With a slight panic spiking in my veins I try to examine it’s ID card but it’s information is mostly blank as it hasn’t begun rigours testing yet. Shit! What if it’s poisonous. Surely it would be in a covered incubator if it was known to be poisonous and over in lab 2 with the others.  I try not to act concerned as I question if the other two know anything about it and the other botanist, Swanson? I think. Says that the whole table is due for testing today by his team. I just nod in acknowledgment and calmly exit the lab. I mean, I feel okay, right? I don’t feel faint and or woozy.  I canter off to the bathroom after throwing my jumper over my chair; I quickly raise my shirt again in the mirror to get a better look. It’s not that bad … I suppose. The thin red slice is only about six centimetres long and it doesn’t look like there’s anything caught in the wound. Honestly, what an idiot. I can’t believe I was so reckless. If bloody Branson found out he’d have my head and he’d carry on for eternity how right he was about me. Oh the ridicule! He’d have me on desk duty till he dies. No one can know! I’m breaking every safety protocol we have but if I am to die from it so be it. I’d rather die quietly than admit my fault to that grumpy old git. After a quick rendezvous with the first-aid box I should be fine. I’ll just have to spy on the other team later to see if they come with anything concerning on the evil looking sucker. Ugh! I can’t believe I just did that.   As I exit the bathroom mumbling curses at myself, adjusting my skin tight black turtleneck, a wisp of black enters my peripheral and I know that the god of mischief has returned to the floor. His eyes find me as I cross the open bullpen to my desk and I let go of the hem of my shirt and make an effort to make the concern vanish from my face. Draped in a navy Asgardian attire, he is what my high school best friend would call a snack. I briefly notice accents of gold and olive lining the leather but I am quick to advert my eyes and look busy. I suppose he would be a nice distraction from the sting in my side but I needn’t the extra embarrassment on top of my slightly spiked anxiety. I can hear Branson’s old decrepit voice engaging with that sultry sirens call as they wander by my desk but I make myself continue typing on my computer as if my life depends on it. As soon as he’s passed me I can smell his cologne lingering to tease me. Do Asgardians even wear cologne or is that just him? I shake my head, determined not to let my thoughts distract me.   As I continue to work at my desk for the day, every time I stretch and move around I check on the other team working in the lab and notice that pointy little sucker is still out in the open so my panic levels have been low and every time I go to the bathroom I check my side; gently peeling off the large non stick plaster to inspect the fading mark. The redness has reduced so much that I have to strain myself to notice the mark.   I steal glances with the God of Mischief throughout the day as he wanders from station to station. I smile politely whenever our eyes meet and always breakaway first to continue working, which I notice earns me a sly grin after the fifth time. See, I knew that tricky bugger was up to something. I just know he purposefully loves to get under my skin. But I am not giving him the satisfaction of watching me blush today. Two can play at that game. Danny surprises me at lunch by bringing me a latte and childish teasing. He sits on the edge of my desk and immediately notices Loki working in the adjacent Lab in clear view of my desk. Trying to be noticeably subtle he continuously taps my shoulder whilst cooing in excitement like a giddy school girl. I shush him and punch him hard in the leg whilst acting like his antics haven’t phased me. I’ve been doing an amazing job of ignoring his presence all morning, he is not going to trick me into actively swooning now.

“Oh he looking.” Danny murmurs whilst turning his head away, tapping my shoulder again.

“Shut up!” I mutter back as I briefly glare at him in warning before retuning my attention to my computer screen.

“Girl he’s definitely checking you out.” He rearranges himself as he opts for standing behind me and leaning over me like he’s studying what I’m doing.

“I’m going to kill you.” I swivel in my chair so that I’m facing away from the Lab. “You’re such a trouble maker.” I hiss and jokingly shove him so not to make a big scene. “Don’t you have work of your own to do?” I question as I make an excuse to walk out of sight by taking my drink bottle to fill it up. Danny follows, chuckling evilly to himself.

“Yeah but this is more fun.” I threaten to throw water on him. “But seriously, he’s definitely watching you.” I could feel it! But I ain’t playing into Danny’s game.

“Yeah right,” I scoff as I begin back to my desk with Danny in tow, “what for? A good laugh if I stumble?” I take my seat but swivel so I’m facing Danny and away from Loki.

“Well no ‘cause I don’t think he’s ever laughed when you’ve embarrassed yourself.” Danny leans against the empty desk adjacent to mine and I gasp at him with forced hurtfulness.

“Are you saying I’m not funny?” I question mockingly and his face grimaces fiercely as he shrugs in agreement.

“Well, either he’s attracted to you or just pities you.” He deduces with his great sleuthing skills. “Which would you prefer?” I scowl so hard at him that he might burst into flames yet his shiteating grin is till carved into his face. I don’t answer, not diving into this ridiculous conversation (not to mention unsafe when he’s so close). With a steady, yet annoyed breath, I exhale loudly before turning back to my computer and turn my concentration up to a hundred and ten percent to block out Loki’s alluring figure in my peripherals.

“I have work to do and if you’ve only come to tease me you can piss off.” I purse my lips together in my best passive resting bitch face before flipping him off. Honestly what an arse – breaking basic friend 101 rules. Don’t joke about the crush in front of the crush.

“So touchy today.” He laughs and kisses me on the cheek before stepping around my desk before I can clock him one. “I’ll see you later.” He teases before leaving and I can feel myself being watched and it is so tempting to look to where that burning urge is coming from but I just know if I make eye contact I’ll blush several noticeable shades. I’ll remain strong, purely out of spite.   I finish all my paper work earlier than expected and manage to send off all my reports just has mid afternoon rolls around. Spite is a good focuser. As I’m scanning through my emails to see if I need to reply to any I get a page from Clint to say that he’s on his way up to check out his new arrow heads. I beam excitedly in remembrance, jumping up from my desk and heading over to Lab 2, where I had been storing them in the cool room at the back of the lab. I had been experimenting and developing  new knockout gasses and combustibles and I thought adapting them to Clint’s arrow heads would be a more challenging task then the standard grenades. Thus far the little project has been a success, they just haven’t had any field time yet.   I notice Loki watching me through his lashes as I swipe into the lab and punch in the code. We’ve already exchanged pleasantries for the day so there’s no need for me to make any form of acknowledgment as I enter. As I enter through the double doors he straightens himself, most likely in expectance that I had entered to speak with him since it’s only he and another botanist in the Lab. But I just walk straight through without a glance which gives me such a surge of power, knowing how  much confusion I was causing him even though his poker face is exceptional. After punching in the security code on the fridge I gently pull out the draw with the arrow tips and remove the tray, taking it with me. I have to make eye contact on my way back since focusing straight ahead would be too obvious and the key is subtlety here if I want to be one up on his intimidating behaviour. My lips curve pleasantly at him but I don’t say anything as I head back to the door. Clint is already at my desk and is glancing around for me. He waves happily when he sees me and opens the door for me so I don’t have to.

“Hey,” he smiles at me and I pass him the tray, “you sure these work?” He questions mockingly.

“Have I ever failed you before?” I coyly quirk my brows in rebuke.

“Want to test them with me?” He nods his head at the door for me to follow him and I do with a skip in my step. I did archery as a child but I got nothing on him. I take my time to relish in the fact that Loki hasn’t taken his eyes off me as I exit through the corridor and I even dare a cheeky, subtly seductive glance over my shoulder just to make sure. Oh it feels good to be bad .. no wonder he loves it.

[winifredsandersonsbitch]

“Radio”

Spike x Summers!Reader

Warnings: S5 spoilers + cursing + violence

Description: You didn’t mean to become friends with a creature of the night. It just happened. But when a demon drives you off the road, the two of you have to develop more than a tentative friendship. You have to trust each other with your lives.

I’m trying to make these all linked, but also as fics that can be read alone? Kind of just can’t commit to doing it as a chaptered series oops

Sometimes, late at night, you and Spike go driving. You make sure to leave a note in case Buffy comes back from slaying early or Dawn wakes up, but you never mention who you’re with. Dawn and Spike get along okay, but Buffy is wary of him even though he’s helped out enough times to proved he’s changed. At least, he’s changed enough so that he’s not an immediate threat. And with all that’s happened, you find yourself so lonely that you almost don’t care that he’s a bloodsucking demon.

It started after your mom died. On the nights when you didn’t work, you would slip out of the house for some solitude and cruise around Sunnydale. Normally, that wouldn’t be the safest idea, especially with Glory around, but your car was stocked with slaying supplies and Willow had given you a charm that you hung from your front mirror, right next to your pair of lucky dice. It wouldn’t protect you from everything, but you figured that anything that wanted to hurt you could just as easily find you at home.

You had driven past the cemetery almost a month ago without any specific purpose in mind. Spike was sitting on top of one of the mausoleums that faced out to the gate, so you pulled into the parking lot. The two of you had been on good terms lately, though it was difficult to gauge how meaningful that really was. You had let him sleep at the house once while you were in class, but only last week he had tolerated the pain from his chip in order to knock the shit out of Xander. You guessed you preferred to live life on the edge.

He hopped down when he saw you coming through the front entrance, tossing the blood he had been drinking out into the bushes. A dribble streaked down his chin, spotting his shirt. Maybe that was why he always wore dark colors.

“To what do I owe the pleasant surprise?”

You couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. You tucked your hands in your pockets to keep yourself from fidgeting.

“I just wanted to say hi.”

Your pasted smile faltered as Spike stepped into your personal bubble.

“Hi.”

You tilted your head back. His face was shadowed, his pupils as wide and dark and gleaming as oilspots. You had the sudden urge to reach out and comb your fingers through his Billy Idol hair. You had always wondered if it was softened by the gel, despite the bleach. Sometimes he tugged on strands of yours teasingly when it was just the two of you, so it seemed fair to return the favor. But something kept your hands glued to your side.

“Hi.”

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way...” He leaned down, his nose almost-but-not-quite brushing yours. “What are you really here for?”

“Do you want to go for a drive?” you blurted. You dangled the keys in front of him. “I’m... bored. By myself. I’d like some company.”

He eyed you like he thought Buffy was going to burst from the shadows and clock him for even considering your offer, but then he shrugged and joined you in the passenger seat of your mud-splattered sedan. Since then, you had been passing by the cemetery more often and he had been throwing rocks at your window. Both of you, it seemed, were restless.

Sometimes you picked up Anya so she and Spike could talk about the good old days when they could kill people. Neither of them would initiate the friendship themselves and you didn’t exactly love the topic, but it was good for them. A kind of support group. Though God forbid that anyone found out that you thought of it like that. Or that Xander discovered how you had facilitated contact between his girlfriend and the person—vampire?—he hated most in the world.

Tonight when you walked outside to your car, Spike was waiting.

“Took you long enough,” he said, sliding into the passenger seat.

It was a cool night, but true to form you rolled your windows down for the ride. You turned the radio on, loud enough so that you could feel the music in your chest but quiet enough that the two of you could have a conversation. Not that you usually did. Sometimes he would ask about Dawn or school and you’d ask about poker and demon hunting, but mostly you drove in comfortable silence. 

When Foreigner came on the radio, you turned the volume up absentmindedly, humming along as the breeze tousled your hair. You loosened your hands on the wheel, tapping on the dashboard. Sometimes you sang along, although it made you a little embarrassed to have Spike watch since you were so off-key. This time he surprised you, matching Lou Gramm’s deep, smoky voice with his own. 

“I would climb any mountain.” You could barely hear him over the wind, which made you wonder if your mind was playing tricks on you. But his mouth was moving in time with the music, forming around the well-loved words. “Sail across the stormy sea.”

Your eyes flickered to the road and then back to him. He was watching you, his lips pulled back in a wicked grin, less brooding than you had ever seen him. He could have been any boy you’d known all your life, engaging in the time-honored tradition of late night carpool karaoke. It was all you could do to remind yourself how dangerous he could be if he ever got the chip out of his head, how bad of an idea it would be to let yourself get wrapped up in the fantasy. You could hang out with Spike, try to humanize him, but he would never stop craving the kill. When he got tired of these games with you—

“If that’s what it takes me, baby, to show how much you mean to me.”

Your heart stuttered. Focus on the road, you told yourself, but it was hard when Spike’s fingers began creeping across the barren land of cupholders in between you. 

“And I guess it’s just the woman in you, that brings out the man in me.”

He unbuckled the seatbelt that you always insisted he wear, despite the deadness, and his hand hovered over yours for a moment before abandoning it in search of another target.

The two of you were usually a little flirty, but this was something else entirely. This crossed a line that you worried couldn’t be redrawn.

“Spike—”

“I know I can’t help myself,” he breathed, brushing a strand of your wind-blown hair behind your ear. He missed a line as he peeled your right hand off the wheel, threading your fingers with his. He placed your clasped hands over his heart almost playfully, leaning close and whispering, knowing you’d shove him off in a second and taking full advantage anyway. If you glanced over, you’d see him smouldering at you in the way only vampires seemed able to perfect. “It feels like the first time.”

“Spike, sit— Oh, god!”

You threw your arm across his chest to keep him from hurtling through the windshield as you swerved to avoid a demon that had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the road. It felt like your arm was going to be jerked out of its socket and he still hit his head hard on the dashboard, but he didn’t black out, which you were taking as a good sign. 

Spike slumped against the seat, dazed, as you pressed your foot down hard on the gas in an attempt to outrun whatever it was. The engine purred and you let yourself breathe a sigh of relief, but it cropped up again.

“I hope my insurance covers this,” you muttered, deciding to hit it head-on, but your car stopped mere feet before the creature. Everything except the radio shut down completely.

Well, at least my own personal horror movie has a great soundtrack, you thought. Then it grabbed at you through the window and you could barely hear the music over the sound of your own screaming.

I have waited a lifetime.

The yak-headed demon wrenched you from the car, slicing through your seatbelt and tossing you out onto the side of the road. You rolled, scraping every exposed piece of skin up on the tar. Before you could stand, it lifted you by the back of your shirt with one clawed hand, leaving you hanging helplessly in mid-air. Then it dropped you. You bent to your knees to soften the impact and then straightened. It caught your foot when you kicked out, twisting your ankle harshly. The bone gave a sickening pop! and you screeched into the night. You had spent the past few years training to be strong enough to help Buffy, but the Slayer strength was unfortunately not genetic, and you still weighed considerably less than a demon that was the size of a grizzly bear.

It yanked you off balance, dragging your body toward it by your ruined ankle as a deep, hoarse laughter bubbled from its throat. Its jaw unhinged, dropping to the ground, as it opened wide.

Spent my time so foolishly.

You didn’t see Spike drag himself from the car due to the crippling fear, but he got its attention when he clocked the demon on the side of the head. You scooted yourself backward in a weak imitation of the crab walks your gym teacher made you do in elementary to avoid being flattened.

If you could make it to the car, you could grab Buffy’s tools, but it was all the way on the other side of the road. You’d have to crawl. God knew you couldn’t stand, not right now. 

You cursed to yourself as you further scraped your tender skin, leaving it raw and bloody where it touched the ground. The demon almost tripped over you, but Spike hauled it off in another direction, trading blows that you could have sworn made the ground tremor. 

“Is that the best you can do, mate?” Spike taunted even as blood dripped down his chin. He flicked his tongue out and licked it up in a motion that could only be described as feral. “Her little sister can hit harder than—”

He was thrown backwards on his ass a second later. When you got out of this, you were going to let him have it for that one.

It feels like the first time.

It hurt like hell to put pressure on your ankle, but you hauled yourself up by gripping the car handle and opened the back door. You kept all of your supplies hidden behind your duffel bag of work clothes in case you got pulled over, in a case that you stashed under the passenger seat. You had a couple stakes, a butcher knife, pepper spray... But nothing big enough to hurt something like this.

“Could use a little help over here, love,” Spike gasped. He clawed against the demon’s grip on his throat, failing to even leave surface level scratches.

You tossed him your tire iron in a panic and he caught it with one hand, but he couldn’t get the strength for a hard blow in his position. As his face reddened, you rushed in from behind to crack the demon on the back on the skull with your industrial strength flashlight.

Most lower level demons had a short attention span, and this one was no exception. You got one more hit in before it sent Spike flying and whirled around to face you. With one swipe, it sent you careening into the car.

Your impact actually left a small dent in the side of the sedan. You could barely see straight, the demon doubling and then tripling in your vision, but now you were pissed. You stumbled to your feet, barely succeeding keeping your dinner from hours earlier down.

“Stay... away... from my baby,” you wheezed.

Spike leapt onto the demon’s back, cutting off its air with the tire iron pressed against its windpipe. “No concern for me? Not very nice, pet.”

The demon wheeled backward and tripped over its own enormous feet. It almost crushed Spike beneath it. His grip loosened for a moment, but then he reapplied pressure and didn’t stop until the demon had been lying stock still for two minutes.

It felt like a lifetime.

“Get this thing off me!” he grunted finally, and you found it in yourself to lumber over. You almost got a mouth full of the pavement because your balance was so shot, but together you eased the beast off him.

You collapsed next to them, the three of you lined up like victims of a very strange and supernaturally diverse massacre. The world was still spinning. You crawled off to be sick in the grass.

A moment later, there was a crunching noise and then he was holding back your hair for you, steadying you so that you wouldn’t fall over into your own sick.

“I think maybe I should drive you to the hospital,” Spike said when you had finished. You shook your head, wiping your mouth on what was left of your sleeve.

“We’ve got a social worker visit this week. I don’t want them seeing the records. Just get me to Willow and Tara.”

“Whatever you say.”

He loaded you into the car, buckling your seatbelt for you. You almost reminded him to clip himself in as well, but then you saw the tattered remnants of the driver’s side and closed your mouth.

He turned the keys in the ignition and the radio came back to life. Spike turned it up, ignoring your complaints that it hurt your head.

“We can’t have you falling asleep before we get you all magicked up,” he said, actually hushing you. There was a surprisingly tender expression on his bruised and bloody face. “I’ll sing again, if you want. If it’ll keep you awake.”

He was only teasing, but you could use something soft right about now.

“Please.”

Mötley Crüe was on. It was hard not to close your eyes to the slower, sweeter beginning. You focused on the sky outside your window instead, dark and deep and inviting. You watched it so you wouldn’t watch Spike’s hands wrapped around the steering wheel or his Adam’s apple bobbing as he sang.

Take me to your heart.

He was willing you to look at him. You could feel it. But if you did, his eyes were going to tell you something you didn’t want to hear.

Feel me in your bones.

It was only after he had pulled into the driveway and you were helping each other up the front steps that you allowed yourself a glance. He caught you in it; of course he did. His arm looped with yours, your fingers pressing against his ribs, tangled up in each other in a messy support system, which was how all of this had started anyway. For a moment, you saw yourself from his perspective. Your hair sticking to the bloody cut on your forehead, your complexion a little washed out, an unhealthy sheen to your skin. You wanted to turn your head to make him stop staring at you, but it came to you in a flash of certainty that he didn’t mind. He had never minded.

Just one more night and I’m comin’ off this long and winding road.

Your body drew closer to his without your own consent. You looked up through your eyelashes at him, breathing shallow but quickening.

You had thrown up not too long ago. You felt like you might throw up again. You couldn’t do this. It was— it was wrong. This went past late night drives. This—

He bent down, unwrapping himself from you for a brief second. You almost sunk down onto the stoop, but then he readjusted his grip.

I’m on my way.

“Summers,” he murmured. “Are you feeling all right?”

It was like having a heat flash. The embarrassment could have killed you.

“I— Let’s get inside.”

“Let’s not be hasty.”

The front porch lights snapped on. Neither of you noticed.

I’m on my way.

“Want me to kiss it better?”

Oh. Oh.

His lips sealed themselves to yours, as the hand that wasn’t keeping you from collapsing traced over the curve of your jaw. You ran your fingers through his hair. It was soft, just like you had thought it would be. When you tugged on it, he sighed into your mouth.

He separated himself from your lips to latch onto your neck. He was careful not to leave a hickey as he ghosted over your shoulder, sucked on your collarbones, bit down gently on your earlobe. He felt so warm and alive and human.

Then the door opened and he dropped you.

“Holy fuck.”

Your breath escaped in a low hiss. Your ankle bent underneath you, shooting with white hot pain. Willow burst from the house.

“(Y/n), is that— Oh, my God, you look terrible! What happened? Spike, what happened? Are you okay?”

Home sweet home.

[thebiasrekkers]

Let Me In | JJK

Requested by Anon

Plot: Unexpected feelings come at unexpected times and in unexpected ways.

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: One-Shot/Drabble | FriendstoLovers!AU | Romance/Fluff

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: Mild Language

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 1,685

A/N: I have to admit, I thought this was really cute. And it actually has the potential to become a series. Will it? Who knows… Probably not though since I have something else lined up in the works for the rest of you lovely people. Enjoy!

“Hey,” he said, flashing his trademark grin at you, “I need a place to stay.”

The sigh that escaped your lips was on reflex. It was the same shit and on a different day. Part of you wondered why you entertained this fiasco at least twice a week, but the other part already knew why. In fact, you’ve always known the answer. It wasn’t like it was rocket science at this point.

It was because Jungkook was your best friend. When have you ever been able to say “no” to him? Nothing’s changed in the last twelve years. It wouldn’t change for the next twelve years, either.

Yet there you stood, gripping onto the doorknob and debating if today would be the day when you finally did, in fact, say “no” to his stupid, charming smile.

But like always, you relented. Stepping to the side, you gave an over dramatic flourish with one arm. He danced across the threshold, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder like he didn’t have a single care in the world. There were times when his nonchalant way of carrying himself could get under your skin. He’d been like that since you first met him in grade school. In fact, you were even a little jealous.

It was sheer luck that his parents happened to be close friends with yours. You were his childhood playmate. It was the same well through your adult years.

You closed the door, shuffling into the kitchen to finish brewing the pot of tea you were preparing. He slung his jacket across the back of the couch, the duffel in its place on the side of it. He’d already kicked off his shoes and was now making his way toward one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

“I want some,” he called out, “make me a cup too.”

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t even like tea.”

He pouted, his brows furrowing as you focused on pouring the hot water over the leaves in the teapot. “That’s not true.”

You give him the look, the one he knew all-too-well. “Since when?”

“Since today.” He flashed a cheeky grin at you and you shrug, pulling out two mugs. Jungkook gave small claps of victory. “You’re the best, Y/N.”

Shaking your head, you focus your energy on making sure that enough hot water is in the teapot. Mentally making a note to let it steep for a few minutes, you turned toward the fridge to pull out the plate of fruit you’d peeled and sliced earlier that afternoon.

Because you worked from home, you had the luxury to do things at your own pace. You’ve always preferred it that way. You knew from a very young age that you could never work for some big company; squared away in a cubicle where people referred to you by an ID number. Your parents said you were foolish for breaking away from societal norms, but Jungkook praised you for wanting to strike out on your own and live your life on your own terms.

Jungkook was already spearing through one of the apples with the dessert fork he squirreled from the utensil cup on the counter. For a while, all you could do was look at him as he chewed. He definitely was a man now, but there was a boyish air that continued to linger over Jungkook in his adult body. He was popular with the women, charismatic enough to draw in the men, and as someone who pursued his dream of painting, he was the definition of “starving, attractive artist”.

It wasn’t fair that he was your best friend. Who asked him to come into your life and stay there? Everyone else left and walked their own paths. It almost seemed archaic and unrealistic to maintain a “childhood friend” sort of relationship. No one was genuine anymore, willing to hide the truth behind plastic smiles and false promises. You expected Jungkook to be the same. People changed. Why shouldn’t he?

Yet there he was…

“So what happened this time?” you asked suddenly, pulling him from his fruit-induced moment of bliss. “Did you tell Marisa that she looked fat in some outfit again?”

“Huh?” Jungkook stopped in mid-chew, a piece of the apple poking out between his lips. “Marisa? We broke up, like, a week ago?”

Why weren’t you surprised?

“Besides, I learned my lesson on that front. Not all people appreciate honesty the way that you do.” Jungkook grinned. “If I said you looked fat in something, you’d either flip me off or make me help you pick something out that flatters your figure.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said as you poured the tea into both mugs, your sarcasm quite evident.

“You don’t fall for my pitiful acts either. In fact, I don’t think I could ever pull a fast one on you.” He tilted his head slightly as he looked up at you. “Is it because you know me so well?”

You scoffed as you hold out the mug of steaming tea toward him. “I can see your bullshit from a mile away. I don’t know how girls keep falling for it every single time.”

He chuckled, cradling the mug between his palms. “Yeah, I don’t either.” Jungkook blew the steam away a few times and then took a sip. He sighed happily.

“You still haven’t told me why you need a place to stay.” You raised the mug up to your face, scrutinizing him. “Again.”

“Oh, that?” He shrugged. “I just got into a fight with my Old Man.”

You slowly raised a brow. That was odd, considering that you knew how well Jungkook got along with his father. In fact, you couldn’t remember a time where they ever fought. Jungkook told you everything. Literally. It would have been a little odd to omit something like that.

“What for?” you asked, sliding into the chair beside him at the table. He passed a dessert fork with a strawberry on top of it.

Shrugging, he laughed as he polished off the apple and stabbed a piece of banana. “Honestly, it was really the stupidest thing. He said I was wasting my life on my art. That my career was too unstable to maintain.” He air-quoted around the words, his brows furrowing in contrast with the smile on his face.

You bit into the strawberry, savoring the juices. It would definitely balance out the herbal flavor of the tea. “Then just marry a rich person.”

The comment was clearly a joke. You knew he wouldn’t take it seriously. But as you lifted your mug of tea up to your lips, you spotted the look on Jungkook’s face. The amusement was gone from his features and he suddenly looked his age - petulant as the gaze was.

“That’s not funny, Y/N,” he said, his tone even and flat.

As the tea slid down your throat, you winced slightly at how it scalded the inside of your mouth. You quickly set the mug down on the table, suddenly uncomfortable with how hard Jungkook was staring at you. Since when did he take anything you said seriously? It actually irritated you.

“I was only joking, geez,” you snapped, tucking some of your hair behind your ear, “what’s your problem?”

“How can you even suggest that?” Jungkook folded his arms across his chest. “I’m going to marry for love, not for convenience.”

“Then love someone who happens to be rich so you can marry them!”

“Then I’ll marry you!”

The anger that was steadily boiling inside of you suddenly deflated. For a handful of seconds, all you could do was stare hard at one another. Finally, you balked at the idea, dissolving into a small fit of laughter.

“Wait, what?” You continued laughing, feeling a slight pain digging into your side. “What?! That’s crazy.” You slowly slid your fingers around your mug, averting his gaze. “You’re crazy.”

Suddenly, you felt his hand around your wrist. Before you have a chance to ask him what he’s doing, he’s already pulled you into his orbit. You had an idea of what you wanted to say to clapback at him, but his lips were already sealing over yours in a heated kiss. Your hand curled into a fist, unsure of what you were feeling at that moment. All you could focus on was the sweetness from the fruit he’d just eaten and the lingering herbal flavor of the tea.

But there was no urge to pull away. Strange. Did you want this to happen? Had you wanted it for some time?

He silently urged your mouth to open wider, wanting to get a better taste of you. In the same vein, you also wanted to taste him. This was your first kiss with Jungkook, after all. Out of all the relationships he’d had in the past, you were starting to get a better idea of why the other girls continuously fell for his nonsense - hook, line and sinker. There was a dark part of you that suddenly despised those other women.

They’d gotten a chance to indulge in his mouth long before you had. It wasn’t fair because you’d known him for almost half of your lives. Shouldn’t this moment have always been yours?

As Jungkook pulled away from you, you suppressed a whine of protest. He must have sensed it because he flashed his devious grin at you; the one that said he already knew what you were thinking. He had a way of being able to read you like an open book. Then again, you had the same skill when it came to him.

That didn’t make his face any less unnecessarily handsome or his kiss any less addicting.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jungkook whispered. He leaned in to press his nose gently against yours, causing your eyes to cross. “…I need a place to stay.”

Regardless of how hard your heart was jack-hammering against your ribs, you laughed. You both did. And then he pulled you in even closer, pressing your chest against his, so that he could kiss you once more.

[chiclet-go-boom]

fracture: look

reylo smut, by request

The door irises shut behind him and he strips off the gloves with a curse. The belt follows, hitting the far wall with a clatter. The heavy overtunic is easy, the tabs are meant to release when he pulls but fuck the shirt, he’s not dealing with it. Grabs over his shoulder and just hauls it off, buttons pinging everywhere in protest. He scatters all of it like morbidly dark leaves as he stalks across the room to the fresher.

He’s smeared with blood, the slash still oozing groggily where it cut the deepest.

There’s many reasons for black clothing and this is not the least of them.

“Reflect,” he hisses and the wall obligingly switches to echo. He inspects the damage. He earned this one, no question, too distracted with his own thoughts to notice when his sparring droids executed an attack sequence they had definitely not been programmed with and he wasn’t prepared to defend against. One had actually slipped through to mark him. No doubt somebody’s amateur assassination attempt and the fact that it actually scored has him in a foul mood.

The slice runs diagonally, a thin start skipping over his ribs under one nipple but starting to gouge on the downward stroke to end in a vicious hook at his hip. The heavy tunic had hidden the damage as he’d walked here so whoever was watching would know they’d failed but his pants are wet and sticky with the aftermath.

Kylo prods at it and growls.

He wipes off the worst of the blood, scrubbing where it’s already dried. Every flex jabs at him. He should probably get the lower few inches stitched but then it won’t hurt as much and what would be the point? Pain instructs. This is something he needs to remember for awhile.

Stripped to the waist, he walks back into the main room with a bacta gel pack in his hands though because regardless of what he’d prefer to do, it can’t stay like this. He has too many other things to do today to be bleeding everywhere while he does it.

With a grimace Kylo peels the slashed material of his pants farther down his hip to fully expose the wound. The gel is cool on his fingers as he starts to swipe it on in long strokes, starting from the bottom. The prickle starts to work its way under the skin, pins and needles and artificial antiseptic calm.

The room echoes with unexpected susurration. Contracts and then painfully expands. He looks up.

She’s sitting on something high, one leg pulled up to her chest in a casually loose clasp, the other dangling. That’s as far as he gets though before her head jerks back and her eyes widen. Color hits her cheeks like a slap.

He freezes at the look on her face.

Her mouth opens. She fixates on his chest and he can feel the touch of it like a hand, it’s so heavy. Her gaze jerks to his eyes for a heartbeat and then raggedly jumps to his shoulders, his arms, before raking down to stab at the exposed flesh of his stomach, lower still. Caught. Fascinated.

His heart hammers sickeningly hard in his chest. He’s aware suddenly that she’s staring at the curl of dark hair leading down to his groin, peeking out from where he’d shoved the material out of his way, the narrow line of muscle that pulls there.

Her tongue flashes out, wetting her lower lip and he feels that as if she’d kissed him where her eyes are.

He straightens, as caught out as she is. He’s already half hard from that alone, the curl of lust tightening as his body reacts even before he can.  

She stares at his cock swelling and only then yanks her eyes away.

“Rey,” he purrs. She says nothing, giving him only a blushing profile. Clutches her knee to her chest. “Rey. Look at me.”

She takes a deep breath then another and then grudgingly swivels her head in his general direction, aiming her gaze somewhere to the far right of his shoulder. Beyond that, she doesn’t move.

Curious, he takes a step forward. She flinches nearly imperceptibly but still doesn’t move to escape like he expected she would. Doesn’t shift back or away or even reply. The last time she’d snapped at him to put something on but this time, nothing.

He looks over his shoulder but of course there’s nothing there but his own black wall. He turns back.

“Where are you?” he asks. “Somewhere you can’t leave?”

She tries to school her face but she’s terrible at it. Keeps staring off to his right as if there’s something infinitely fascinating there. Her breath is shallow, he can see her chest rising and falling in helpless reaction.

“Is the General there? Your friends?”

She shakes her head a tiny bit but the color on her cheeks heightens.

“Yes,” he smiles. “You’re with your friends. Possibly my mother. The Resistance version of High Command? And you can’t leave without people asking questions you can’t answer, so... a meeting?”

Her eyes flick up to his face, very obviously not looking any lower than his chin. She scowls, shifting. Tries to smooth out her expression again with slightly better success this time.

“I can feel you,” he breathes. “That hit you hard. Seeing me. Seeing me open. Do you remember the first time?”

The flicker of her eyelashes is his only answer but that’s all he needs.

He looks again at where she’s looking, trying to figure it out. “I remember the first time too,” he says. “You were angry. So angry with me.” He steps backwards until he impacts the wall, slides over until he’s positioned near where she's staring so determinedly. The front of the room, her commanding officer, a projector for all he knows. The mutinous, panicked expression on her face is worth everything.

He sets his shoulders against the cold metal, widening his stance a little. “I like it when you’re angry,” he confesses to the air. He coats his fingers again with more of the healing gel and tosses the rest of the pack onto the floor to skitter away.

He looks down and starts to smear the bacta again, moving his hand over the wound, stroking higher and higher over his stomach, navel, to his ribs. Her breathing hitches and she’s trying, he can see her trying but her gaze keeps coming back, over and over again to watch. He takes his time, running his fingers over skin, smearing both shine and blood traces along the length of the slash.

He shivers, flesh pebbling, and it has nothing to do with the sting.

“I like it when it looks like you want to fight,” he continues as if he hadn’t stopped. “To argue with me. I think sometimes of you biting me. And I think of biting you back.”

It’s foregone. She fixates again, this time on his mouth. He tenses his stomach and is rewarded twice when teeth indent into the corner of her lip and the pain of the pulled wound flushes over his senses, hardening his nipples.

“Did you want to then, Rey? Do you want to now? Sink your teeth into me, make me bleed a little more?”

Her eyes cut right, startled. “S...sorry? Oh. Uh. Just seventeen. So far,” she says, her tone a little too high, definitely too fast. “Three more by tomorrow. That’s… that’s really all I can guarantee. For now." She nods once, and then again. "Yes. Yes, of course.”

“Well done,” he says after a moment when it appears whatever she’s been asked was enough of an answer. “I wonder what you’re talking about. Speeders? People? Droid repair? No matter.” He wipes the excess bacta on his pants. “I don’t actually care.”

She looks at him helplessly, the urge to bolt writ large on her face. Her fingers are so tight, clutching at her bent leg. He wonders what anyone else would see other than the discomfort. The blush still lingers and he doesn’t think it’s going to go away anytime soon.

“I think about you all the time, you know,” he continues conversationally. “Biting you. Sucking bruises into you, fucking you. My fingers sliding into you, kissing you senseless. The way you’ll move under me. The sounds I want to hear you to make.” He half closes his eyes, staring at her as he slides his hand into his pants. The gel traces on his fingers tingle sharply on the sensitive flesh as he wraps his grip around the head of his cock, pulling it away from the painful position it was in. “The way you’ll feel, convulsing around me. Are you sure you can’t leave?”

He can see the breath she takes, trembling as it is. But she shakes her head and for the first time, deliberately locks her gaze with his. Fuck, that’s hot. He tightens even more, balls drawing up, and the groan he makes is half unwilling.

Fine. Okay. He can do better than this. He shoves the other side of his pants down so he can free himself properly, spreading his legs even more, elongating his body for her. Presses his shoulders hard into the wall.

“Do you see what you do to me, Rey,” he whispers. “And you’re not even here.” He smears the palm of his hand over the head, coating it with himself and then strokes himself down, long and slow. He drops his head back against the wall, hips shifting in reflex because it feels so damned good. She’s watching, she’s watching and it’s all he can do not to speed up.

“Sometimes I think about taking you hard. Up against a wall while you’re angry, while you tell me that you’ll never be with me, never want this from me. And I take you and take you and take you because I can’t help myself.” The words pour out as his hand strokes.  “Those damnably long legs of yours wrapped around my waist. Nails in my shoulders, in my back. Teeth in my ear, in my throat.” He watches her face, wondering if that’s something she’s ever thought about. Maybe. Maybe not. “Look, Rey. Look at how hard I am for you.”

Her eyes cut over again, looking at whatever is in her world but she look back guiltily, watching his fingers as they flash up and down. She shifts once, and then again, her hips moving in a tiny, fretful circle. He can feel it hit her again, the deep sweet that has no answer but touch and motion and frantic heat.

At least he can indulge.

“Sometimes. Sometimes I think about taking it slow.” And he does, slipping the head of his cock between his fingers, teasing at himself. “I think about kissing you. I think about your mouth on me, so desperate. I think about hearing my name as you tremble under me, over me. As you thrash and fall apart for me. Just for me.” His voice drops even lower without thinking about it and he hunches forward with the restlessness that his own words are painting. The sting of his injury just adds to it. She’d be so sweet. Her eyes are perfect as they touch him everywhere, drink up his face, drop again to where he’s eager for her. “I think about what it would feel like to drive into you, again and again and again when you’re not angry. When you’re anything but angry.”

He can see her other hand clench at her side and he swallows and she mirrors him, shifting hard in place. Her gaze slips down his chest, watches his hand as it moves inexorably. He’s hard enough to drill through the wall behind him it feels like. The ache under his heart is no better.

“Drop your leg, Rey. Open yourself, even just a little for me. Let me think about what we’re never going to have.”

He wonders if that’s too far, too much. But she does. Oh, fuck, she does, slides her leg tentatively down from the death clutch against her chest, her eyes wide and hesitant and black. Leans back just a little bit on her hands and she looks away as if she can’t watch him while she makes this decision. Her legs twitch, and then hesitantly move apart the tiniest of spaces.

And there’s nothing to see, absolutely nothing at all, not even if her breasts are tight and aching for his hands because there’s just so much cloth between them, but her body has shifted because he asked her to. He can imagine surging up, three steps, four to shove himself between her legs, put his hands on her waist, pull her into him, onto him rough fast sweet slow and either way he knows, he knows she'll take him to the hilt if she’s feeling even half of what he feels.

So wet. So tight. So fucking ready for him.

He closes his eyes and strains. Tightens his hand at the base of his cock because he could come like this, right now, just thinking about it and not yet, please, not yet. He can feel the hair falling in his face as he pants. Spreads his free hand on the wall, fingers wide as if that can help him stay together.

“Fuck, Rey,” he shudders. “You could ask me for anything right now and it’s yours.”

He opens his eyes just in time to catch the sudden twist of longing and an odd, tangled fury on her face and he throws his head back and laughs. “Okay, not that,” he manages to garble out. “Anything else though.”

And that, suddenly, makes her angry. She sits upright and jerks her knees together, snapping her attention away as if she can deny him, deny them both the deep abiding urge to make this real.

He can see her trying to erase the last few seconds, color again stained like rose on her cheeks. Her fingers bite into whatever she’s sitting on, whitening the flesh of her fingertips as she looks around, desperately trying to drag herself back there instead of here.

He resumes stroking himself. “Still, maybe I would,” he croons, surprising himself. “Want me to turn up on the Resistance doorstep and surrender? They’ll stick a few dozen needles of suppressants in me every couple of hours like clockwork so everyone feels safe enough to spit at my feet, but you can fuck me as much as you like in a jail cell before the execution.”

She still doesn’t look but he can see the shudder, some hard emotion moving like a storm over her delicate features. Her lip curls back.

“Think about it. At your mercy. Chained down, forced to serve. There just for you, and only for you.”

He has no idea what he’s saying, spinning it out between them but then the sense of it hits him, the way it would be, could be, the taste of her above him, riding him, knowing that all that’s left is fucking her and death and he makes a noise of low excitement and his hand strokes mercilessly hard.

“Rey,” he demands breathlessly. “Rey. Look. For you. Just for you. Always.”

The end hits him like a nova and he arches his shoulders against the wall, digging his heels down, everything flexing as he comes. It splashes on his chest hard once, twice and he digs his other hand into his hair to pull, another pain, imagining it's her, that she’s pleased, that the hurt he feels is her nails raking down his chest in encouragement. He milks himself dry, gasping.

Finally he opens his eyes and fuck yes, she’s riveted on him, shocked. He runs his hand down his cock a few more times for echo before straightening lazily, feeling the aftershocks in his legs, the wired tremble of release so deep in his belly. His hair is sticking to his face, his lips and he shakes it away. Looks down and he’s made a mess of himself.

There’s come on the back of his hand and he brings it to his mouth. Sucks it off and watches her.

Her legs are squeezed together so tightly that he aches in sympathy.

“Good luck with the rest of your meeting,” he finally manages to get out.

It takes all he’s got left to turn and walk back to the fresher. He’s bleeding again and he can’t even care.

[liannyeong]

Untitled #1

Summary: Just a compilation of fluffy Jaebum drabbles

Word count: 1475

Pairing: Jaebum X OC

Warning(s): fluff ~

A/N: Some of the scenes are based from requests by professional anon: here and here. It’s been a while since I last written something so hopefully this is good enough. ><

i.

"You should apply some lip balm, Jaebum-ah," she says as she rolls the stick over her own lips in the mirror. "The weather's way too cold now, you wouldn't your lips to peel off all the time." She purses her lips to spread the balm evenly.

"I'm too lazy," Jaebum answers from where he's perched at the edge of the bed. "Besides," Jaebum meets her eyes in the mirror, then lets his tongue dart out of his mouth and slide it over at the seams, "licking it will also keep it moist."

She scoffs, capping the lip balm but not storing it away. She turns around to face the real Jaebum as she states flatly, "Doing that will only dry your lips faster." She holds up the cylinder, urging Jaebum to take it.

Jaebum groans, reluctantly moving closer to her and plucking the object from her hold. But then his eyes dart between her face and the lip balm, and there's a mischievous glint in his eyes. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, and before she can ask why, he's grabbing her face with his hands. He leans forward and ducks his head down to press their lips together. It isn't a heated kiss, for their mouths are closed and just their lips are pressed together. Jaebum doesn't even deepen the kiss, but stays like that for a few moments before pulling away.

"W-wha--?"

Jaebum purses his lips, just as how she did earlier before smirking. "Now I've put on some lip balm."

For a moment, she was confused at the meaning of his words. But when her eyes dart to his lips, there's a faint glossy effect on them and more pinkish in color. She flushes at the realization of what Jaebum had just did.

"You-- Gosh--" she couldn't express her surprise in words, embarrassed to even say it aloud. So all she does is to slap his arm, her head hanging low and her face hidden. Jaebum laughs at her act, allowing her to hit him continuously. But then she's grabbing his arm and burying her face into the cotton material of his sleeve, hugging his arm as if it's a bolster. It's an awkward position for Jaebum, body bent sideways to accommodate the female but he doesn't mind. He laughs again, ruffling her hair out of adoration.

It takes a while before her flustered face finally disappears. But by then, her lips are already dried and his sleeve is stained. Jaebum wasn't even angered at the stain, even though she apologizes for it. So it gives her an idea to repay for his mischievous act earlier. She reapplies the lip balm on her lips, before grabbing Jaebum's face and pressing her lips at an obvious place on his jaw. Jaebum's staring at her, dumbfounded, and she laughs at his expression.

"Now the whole world knows you're mine," she teases.

ii.

It's a Sunday morning, and she prefers to sleep in, lazing around on the bed. But her slumber is interrupted when she feels a tickle on her ear. She rubs her ear, thinking it was just her hair strands tickling her ear. So she tucks her hair back, but the tickle doesn't go away. Annoyed, she peeks an eye and sees Jaebum's face so close to her. There's that mischievous glint in his eyes, and a cheeky smile tugging on his lips before it forms a small 'o' shape and she feels his breath on her cheek.

With a huff, she presses her hand to her mouth, effectively stopping the male from that annoying action. But she should have known better for Jaebum darts his tongue out to lick her palm. Her face scrunches in disgust, wiping away his saliva onto his shirt. Then she turns her body around, back on him.

She feels Jaebum presses his body behind, his chin on her shoulder as he continues to blow at her ear. She rolls her shoulder backwards, hoping the male would get the hint that she doesn't want to be disturbed. But Jaebum knows nothing about giving up. An arm draping over her waist, he pulls her closer, her back flushed against his front. He blows at her ear again, and she has had enough with it. She snaps her eyes open, glaring at the male, but he only returns a smile. He shifts the female to lay on her back, before dropping his head onto the junction between her neck and her shoulder. He nuzzles his face there, half of his body resting atop of hers.

"Seriously?" she lets out, annoyed, but raises her hand to his head, petting him slow.

His arm over her stomach, he presses closer as if he would die without touching her. He lets out a contented sigh against her skin, and she can't help but smile at his clingy behavior. Eyes closed, both of them falls back asleep, heartbeats in tandem.

iii.

"What happened?" Jaebum panics as he rushes into the kitchen in record time. He's already next to her, staring down at the hand she's cradling close to her chest. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's just a cut," she answers as she grabs a piece of tissue paper, wrapping it around her finger and applying pressure to it. Jaebum doesn't back away, his face still crumpled in worry. Her scream had got him scared, and he was scared something would have happened.

"It's just a cut, Jaebum. I'm sorry to have gotten you so worried," she says, noticing the male's face.

"Come here," Jaebum beckons. He takes a hold of her hand, pulling the tissue away so that he could see the cut clearly. It's a long thin line across her palm. He looks at the kitchen counter, where the knife and half-sliced tomatoes are atop of a wooden chopping board. Jaebum sighs as he turns his focus back onto her bleeding palm, applying more pressure with the tissue. "What were you doing?"

"I was trying to cut some tomatoes in some patterned way but the knife slid through the tomato and onto my skin."

Jaebum shakes his head. "You should be more careful."

"I know, I'm sorry. But it's just a cut."

Jaebum shifts away just to grab a piece of band-aid before returning to her. He pulls her towards the sink, running tap water over her palm.

"It's not just a cut," Jaebum says as he peels the band-aid open. Instead of pasting it, he leans down and softly kisses the cut, much to her surprise. He looks at her from underneath his lashes as he murmurs, "It's your hand."

She's at a loss for words, cheeks flaming at how the whole scene turned out. Jaebum appears to be indifferent as he finally pastes the band-aid over the cut. He leans in again to kiss her palm before letting go, but she closes the gap and throws her arms around his neck.

"Thanks," she utters into his skin. "You're always taking care of me."

"As you always take care of me," Jaebum mumbles into her neck, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

iv.

It's not often that they take the subway, but their car was sent to the workshop when it failed to start. They waited until it was after peak hours before taking the train back home, for Jaebum dislike the crowd and being pushed around in a packed train. So they killed time, roaming around the streets, buying desserts and snacks to munch on.

The doors of the train open and she hears Jaebum heave a sigh of relief at the near emptiness of it. He beelines to one of the seats, body slumping in comfort. She shakes her head as she takes the seat next to him, disapproving his sluggish behavior. At this, Jaebum sits up straight, and she ends up laughing, amused at the male's antics. Jaebum smiles back, then leans his head onto her shoulder. She doesn't push the male away. Instead, she pats his head gently, and makes sure his neck is comfortable enough. The last thing she wants is Jaebum having a strained neck.

Jaebum takes her arm, coiling his own around as if he's half-hugging a bolster. He makes their fingers intertwine, before he sighs in content and shuts his eyes. The position doesn't allow her to look at the male, so she stares at their reflection in the opposite window. His lips still bear a smile though his eyes are closed. She can't even help herself as her lips curl upwards too. She tilts her head sideways so that her cheek touches his head, and she tightens her fingers around his.

The ride back home is a long one, but neither complain about it. Not when they're all wrapped in their own bubble, uninterrupted by the world outside.

[thebiasrekkers]

I would like to request “I need a place to stay.” with Jungkook ;)

Requested by Anon

Plot: Unexpected feelings come at unexpected times and in unexpected ways.

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: One-Shot/Drabble | FriendstoLovers!AU | Romance/Fluff

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: Mild Language

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 1,685

A/N: I have to admit, I thought this was really cute. And it actually has the potential to become a series. Will it? Who knows… Probably not though since I have something else lined up in the works for the rest of you lovely people. Enjoy!

“Hey,” he said, flashing his trademark grin at you, “I need a place to stay.”

The sigh that escaped your lips was on reflex. It was the same shit and on a different day. Part of you wondered why you entertained this fiasco at least twice a week, but the other part already knew why. In fact, you’ve always known the answer. It wasn’t like it was rocket science at this point.

It was because Jungkook was your best friend. When have you ever been able to say “no” to him? Nothing’s changed in the last twelve years. It wouldn’t change for the next twelve years, either.

Yet there you stood, gripping onto the doorknob and debating if today would be the day when you finally did, in fact, say “no” to his stupid, charming smile.

But like always, you relented. Stepping to the side, you gave an over dramatic flourish with one arm. He danced across the threshold, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder like he didn’t have a single care in the world. There were times when his nonchalant way of carrying himself could get under your skin. He’d been like that since you first met him in grade school. In fact, you were even a little jealous.

It was sheer luck that his parents happened to be close friends with yours. You were his childhood playmate. It was the same well through your adult years. 

You closed the door, shuffling into the kitchen to finish brewing the pot of tea you were preparing. He slung his jacket across the back of the couch, the duffel in its place on the side of it. He’d already kicked off his shoes and was now making his way toward one of the chairs at the kitchen table. 

“I want some,” he called out, “make me a cup too.”

You rolled your eyes. ��You don’t even like tea.”

He pouted, his brows furrowing as you focused on pouring the hot water over the leaves in the teapot. “That’s not true.”

You give him the look, the one he knew all-too-well. “Since when?”

“Since today.” He flashed a cheeky grin at you and you shrug, pulling out two mugs. Jungkook gave small claps of victory. “You’re the best, Y/N.”

Shaking your head, you focus your energy on making sure that enough hot water is in the teapot. Mentally making a note to let it steep for a few minutes, you turned toward the fridge to pull out the plate of fruit you’d peeled and sliced earlier that afternoon. 

Because you worked from home, you had the luxury to do things at your own pace. You’ve always preferred it that way. You knew from a very young age that you could never work for some big company; squared away in a cubicle where people referred to you by an ID number. Your parents said you were foolish for breaking away from societal norms, but Jungkook praised you for wanting to strike out on your own and live your life on your own terms.

Jungkook was already spearing through one of the apples with the dessert fork he squirreled from the utensil cup on the counter. For a while, all you could do was look at him as he chewed. He definitely was a man now, but there was a boyish air that continued to linger over Jungkook in his adult body. He was popular with the women, charismatic enough to draw in the men, and as someone who pursued his dream of painting, he was the definition of “starving, attractive artist”. 

It wasn’t fair that he was your best friend. Who asked him to come into your life and stay there? Everyone else left and walked their own paths. It almost seemed archaic and unrealistic to maintain a “childhood friend” sort of relationship. No one was genuine anymore, willing to hide the truth behind plastic smiles and false promises. You expected Jungkook to be the same. People changed. Why shouldn’t he?

Yet there he was…

“So what happened this time?” you asked suddenly, pulling him from his fruit-induced moment of bliss. “Did you tell Marisa that she looked fat in some outfit again?”

“Huh?” Jungkook stopped in mid-chew, a piece of the apple poking out between his lips. “Marisa? We broke up, like, a week ago?”

Why weren’t you surprised?

“Besides, I learned my lesson on that front. Not all people appreciate honesty the way that you do.” Jungkook grinned. “If I said you looked fat in something, you’d either flip me off or make me help you pick something out that flatters your figure.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said as you poured the tea into both mugs, your sarcasm quite evident.

“You don’t fall for my pitiful acts either. In fact, I don’t think I could ever pull a fast one on you.” He tilted his head slightly as he looked up at you. “Is it because you know me so well?”

You scoffed as you hold out the mug of steaming tea toward him. “I can see your bullshit from a mile away. I don’t know how girls keep falling for it every single time.”

He chuckled, cradling the mug between his palms. “Yeah, I don’t either.” Jungkook blew the steam away a few times and then took a sip. He sighed happily.

“You still haven’t told me why you need a place to stay.” You raised the mug up to your face, scrutinizing him. “Again.”

“Oh, that?” He shrugged. “I just got into a fight with my Old Man.”

You slowly raised a brow. That was odd, considering that you knew how well Jungkook got along with his father. In fact, you couldn’t remember a time where they ever fought. Jungkook told you everything. Literally. It would have been a little odd to omit something like that.

“What for?” you asked, sliding into the chair beside him at the table. He passed a dessert fork with a strawberry on top of it. 

Shrugging, he laughed as he polished off the apple and stabbed a piece of banana. “Honestly, it was really the stupidest thing. He said I was wasting my life on my art. That my career was too unstable to maintain.” He air-quoted around the words, his brows furrowing in contrast with the smile on his face. 

You bit into the strawberry, savoring the juices. It would definitely balance out the herbal flavor of the tea. “Then just marry a rich person.” 

The comment was clearly a joke. You knew he wouldn’t take it seriously. But as you lifted your mug of tea up to your lips, you spotted the look on Jungkook’s face. The amusement was gone from his features and he suddenly looked his age - petulant as the gaze was.

“That’s not funny, Y/N,” he said, his tone even and flat.

As the tea slid down your throat, you winced slightly at how it scalded the inside of your mouth. You quickly set the mug down on the table, suddenly uncomfortable with how hard Jungkook was staring at you. Since when did he take anything you said seriously? It actually irritated you.

“I was only joking, geez,” you snapped, tucking some of your hair behind your ear, “what’s your problem?”

“How can you even suggest that?” Jungkook folded his arms across his chest. “I’m going to marry for love, not for convenience.”

“Then love someone who happens to be rich so you can marry them!”

“Then I’ll marry you!”

The anger that was steadily boiling inside of you suddenly deflated. For a handful of seconds, all you could do was stare hard at one another. Finally, you balked at the idea, dissolving into a small fit of laughter. 

“Wait, what?” You continued laughing, feeling a slight pain digging into your side. “What?! That’s crazy.” You slowly slid your fingers around your mug, averting his gaze. “You’re crazy.”

Suddenly, you felt his hand around your wrist. Before you have a chance to ask him what he’s doing, he’s already pulled you into his orbit. You had an idea of what you wanted to say to clapback at him, but his lips were already sealing over yours in a heated kiss. Your hand curled into a fist, unsure of what you were feeling at that moment. All you could focus on was the sweetness from the fruit he’d just eaten and the lingering herbal flavor of the tea.

But there was no urge to pull away. Strange. Did you want this to happen? Had you wanted it for some time? 

He silently urged your mouth to open wider, wanting to get a better taste of you. In the same vein, you also wanted to taste him. This was your first kiss with Jungkook, after all. Out of all the relationships he’d had in the past, you were starting to get a better idea of why the other girls continuously fell for his nonsense - hook, line and sinker. There was a dark part of you that suddenly despised those other women.

They’d gotten a chance to indulge in his mouth long before you had. It wasn’t fair because you’d known him for almost half of your lives. Shouldn’t this moment have always been yours?

As Jungkook pulled away from you, you suppressed a whine of protest. He must have sensed it because he flashed his devious grin at you; the one that said he already knew what you were thinking. He had a way of being able to read you like an open book. Then again, you had the same skill when it came to him.

That didn’t make his face any less unnecessarily handsome or his kiss any less addicting.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jungkook whispered. He leaned in to press his nose gently against yours, causing your eyes to cross. “…I need a place to stay.”

Regardless of how hard your heart was jack-hammering against your ribs, you laughed. You both did. And then he pulled you in even closer, pressing your chest against his, so that he could kiss you once more.