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hansolmates · 4 years ago

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jjk; angel’s trumpet [final]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, in this chapter–dry humping but not really lololol w.c; 5.5k a/n; surprise! the finale is here. im a little emotional, i had so, so much fun writing this series. the most fun i’ve had writing in a long, long while. i really hope to all the new readers that you stick around for the other bts fics i have in mind. thank you for being so supportive and loving on this journey, and i hope you enjoy their ending! and pssssttt, the bonus chapter will come next friday, so look out for that! ty @btsghostiewritersnet for the Bingo Bash Challenge and encouraging me to finish my first bts series!

[08] [final] [bonus] -> masterpost

Your family took very good care of your apartment while you were away. The laundry is done, the tables are dusted, and your bed sheets are crisp and smell like lemon fabric softener.

Unfortunately, you can’t say the same thing about your fridge. You can’t recall the last time you’ve seen the back of your fridge, but now it’s completely cleared out save for three cans of soda.

At least there’s ramen you can boil.

Waiting for the water your fingers drum over your countertops, taking in your home. It’s been two months since you’ve set foot in your apartment. You used to hate living in this little box of an apartment, jealous that your other co-workers got to share with others and have grander living spaces. However today, you feel content basking in the intimacy of your home, thankful for the breathing room it provides.

Chilling with your candles on the counter, sits the bottle of angel wine you received that started it all. It looks innocent, sitting next to your Bath and Body Works candles like one of the team. In this scenario, the Angel surely trumpeted you.

The facility they sent you to was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing in disguise because you had time to think and get back on your feet with no repercussions of going “too slow” and the pressures of going back to work. A curse in its own merit because the doctors constantly poked and prodded at your brain, trying to help you process your supposed trauma and get you to remember.

And sure, being sent unwillingly to an alternate dimension as you were practically forced to live another life and fall in love with the boy you already love is definitely trauma in it’s own right. However you’d be crazy to tell them and you’re not trying to end up in the cuckoo house anytime soon.

So eventually you give them the boring, appropriate version. How you were flung meters away from the impact point, feeling like you were seconds away from being dead, every bone in your body protesting as you rolled off the road. Yadda yadda yadda, you said you remembered brief flashes of your hospital room during your coma, catching simple conversation exchanged between your visitors, but nothing concrete. When you woke up, you thought you were in a dream about being in a coma, and once you saw that you’ve actually been asleep for two months, caused a panic which led you to their facility. Everything but the crѐme of the story.

With this utterly basic and blase confession, the doctors deemed you ready to transition and re-acclimate into your normal routine.

“Ow, fuck,” you put too much water in your pot, and it’s now boiled over and some of the water has dripped on your hand. Immediately killing the heat, you decide that you’re not feeling ramen and you definitely deserve a treat meal before facing society head on.

Quickly putting on a large sweater and leggings, you make quick work to the 7-Eleven across the street of your apartment complex. This has to be a ten-minute trip, tops. You start to shove whatever looks edible into your basket, making sure to have an equal balance of sweet and salty foods.

A low whistle from behind causes you to bristle, and you turn around to shove your container of Kewpie mayonnaise into the offender’s chest.

“I promise, I don’t wolf-whistle just any pretty girl at 7-Eleven.”

Your weapon of choice drops into your basket, face softening at the man in front of you. “Hoseok?”

You almost double-take, thinking for just a half-second that you could be dreaming. It’s been so long, but seeing the pearly white grin on his face and the red cap on his head feels all too familiar, and you’re overwhelmed with emotion. Dropping your basket you throw your arms around him, laughing when he nearly stumbles and you two almost topple over the dried foods section.

Heat stains Hoseok’s cheeks, not used to being this close with you. “Didn’t think you had it in you to miss me,” he says lightly, only half-joking.

“Of course I missed you, Hobi,” you admonish, leaning back slightly to adjust the cap that turned wonky once you embraced him. “It’s been what, two months?”

“Almost five, actually,” you can feel him tense up as you try to adjust the bangs on his forehead. This must be really awkward for him, but you made a promise to someone to try to become better friends with him, so why not start now? “But I guess it doesn’t count for you if you were in a coma for two of them.”

“Right,”

Hoseok watches your eyes glaze over, deep in thought. In his haste he grabs your basket, gesturing for you to follow him to the register. You don’t even argue when he starts to pay for you, slipping the bottle of aspirin he wanted to pick up upon finding you in the same aisle.

“Hobi?” you ask, following him outside.

“Yeah?”

“We should hang out,” you say, ignoring the surprise on Hoseok’s features. He wasn’t expecting that, “My family pretty much rearranged my place while I was away, and put in a lot of home workout stuff,” he chuckles at the face you make, “but they left my old tennis racket. I know you used to play so I could use a partner.”

To your utter relief Hoseok nods brightly, “I’d like that.”

You grin, taking your leave as Hoseok follows your trail. You try to hide how giddy you are by hiding your head in your hood, smiling wide at the thought of spending more time with Hoseok. Both of you seem to be headed in the same direction, Hoseok making small talk about what’s going on in his life and what you’ve missed.

He stops in front of the apartment complex, gesturing to the studio he’s currently practicing in. “I should go call Jungkook for you,” he says, “he’s been worried sick about you.”

At the mention of Jungkook, you shove your hands in your burgundy pocket, wringing at the old fabric. “I’ll call him tomorrow,” you say, biting your lip, “I’m not quite ready yet.”

“Of course,” and it looks like he wants to ask more, but out of politeness he doesn’t. He’s always had a vague understanding of your relationship with Jungkook, but it isn’t his business. “But if he asks about you—which he does a lot and it’s super annoying—I’m not lying.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to,” you smile.

“That boy, he visited you every day he could. You know that?” Your heart softens at the confession, and you heat up. Hoseok reaches over to squeeze your shoulder, bending down to send you a smile equally as heartening. “So call him soon, okay?”

The both of you part ways feeling lighter and sweeter. The rest of your way back up to your apartment is peaceful, until you hear someone crying on your floor. Your heart aches seeing your old co-worker slumped up against your door. Her hair has grown in, surprisingly not styled and she looks like she’s just ran a marathon to beat you. When she sees you approach her, she gives you a wobbly pout.

“You bitch,” Sehlyung says with no bite to her tone. She’s teary, and has been sitting against your door because the lock has changed. You must’ve just missed each other, “why didn’t you tell me the second you arrived in the city?”

“I was just going to call you,” you bend down to reach her eyes, “how’d you know I was already here?”

“C-cousin texted me,” she holds up her phone, wiping her face with her sleeve, “she’s a surprisingly good texter for a five-year-old.”

You laugh, offering a hand to pull her up. “I’ve missed you,”

“Fuck, I’ve missed you too,” and she hugs you, squeezing your insides out with every fiber of your being. “I’m so so sorry, baby.”

“It’s not your fault—”

“I fucking know! I know it’s not my fault but just let me be sorry and hug you,” you relent after that, letting her cry on your shoulder as you fumble for the door so you can both catch up comfortably.

You set up the table for your feast, lining up everything from 7-Eleven onto the coffee table as Sehlyung busies herself by pouring you guys cups of tea. She eats quietly, to your surprise. You didn’t realize how much this accident would have affected her, especially being the last person you saw before you left. The two of you exchange simple, mindless talk, with Sehlyung complaining about how much harder work has gotten and how boring your life in the facility, to the point that you wanted to teach the patients English just for the fun of it.

Sehlyung still looks a little weary, as if expecting you to be upset and blame her like she wanted to. You don’t give her that, instead you reach over to pat the black roots of her hair. “Girl, how could you let it grow out like this?” you admonish, knowing how much she hated to see roots after the first two weeks.

“Was waiting for you,” she mumbled between bites of her onigiri, “you’re the only one that does my roots. Can’t have some salon jip me for hundreds of won just because you got into a coma.”

You laugh, patting your knees as you move to your bathroom. “Pretty sure your hair stuff is still here,” you chirp, “let me fix that for you while you’re here, yeah?”

After the day is spent and Sehlyung’s hair is freshly dyed, you two cap off the night with some popcorn and a subpar romance movie. The two of you aren’t really paying much attention to it, instead the focus is on the silent understanding the two of you have as you bask in each other's presence.

Sehlyung leans her head on her shoulder, smelling like fresh conditioner. “Y’know,” she says, “he blames himself too.”

“Jungkook?” you know exactly who she's referring to.

“Yeah, probably because of what he said that night,”

“You two are such softies,” you remark, pulling her closer, “all tough and strong on the outside so no one sees how weak you are to the people you love.”

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

Cleaning up your work locker is like unfolding a time capsule.

Thankfully, everything’s still there (aside from your Caprese sandwich Sehlyung so thankfully remembered to dispose of.) You take great care in putting all your things in your duffle bag, from your extra hoodie in case it gets cold to the soft covered textbooks that are worn from love and overuse.

You thumb your finger over the photograph of you and Jungkook, untacking it from the inside door. You don’t even remember when this was taken, a blurry polaroid of you on his back with sparklers in each hand. Both of you look hysterical, from the manic grin on Jungkook’s face to the slightly panicked face you sport because the sparklers are hovering dangerously close to your faces.

A little part of you feels bittersweet in closing this part of your life, but you have a feeling that this chapter ended long ago.

Making quick work to drop off your locker key among other workstuffs, you manage to catch a glimpse of some familiar faces working. The studio door is open, presumably to air out the seven sweaty bodies that have been working tirelessly. You pop your head open, nose crinkling at the smell.

You barely get a word in as passing staff come to greet you and marvel on your recovery. It’s a little overwhelming, but seeing the relief and relaxation on their faces as they take in your healed body like you’re Jesus reincarnate.

You also notice that Jungkook’s nowhere in sight.

Namjoon bumbles over to you, throwing himself on you like a bear swallowing you whole. “We missed you so much!”

“Ugh, sweaty!” you make a face when his muscle tee is practically transparent, “Joon, you’re like a sauna!”

He fakes a defeated sigh, making an exaggerated gesture of holding his shoulders in a tired shrug. “I get it, you don’t wanna hug me,” he declares, “after months and months, the only person you’re really looking for in this room is Jeon—” you squirm among the staff and the way they mull around the room, seemingly disinterested in your conversation.

But of course, you never know who could be listening in.

Namjoon cuts himself short and squeezes your shoulder, as if to say you know what I mean.

“You actually just missed him. He left his extra clothes at the dorm. If you leave now, you’ll be able to catch him,” Jimin offers. He’s slumped on the ground, regarding you with a secret smile.

“Yeah, and it’s okay if he’s five minutes late.” Hoseok pipes up, downing a water bottle.

“Or ten.”

“Or a day late,” Hoseok finally says, “a day is fine.”

You snort, looking between the three boys. “I wasn’t looking for him,” you scoff, but from the looks on their faces, they already knew. With an exasperated shout and a rushed goodbye, you dart out of the studio, acutely aware of the giggles that follow you out.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

The floor of their apartment took up the entire complex and then some, so you had to get Namjoon’s code to reach that floor. A little part of you knew you also could’ve just texted Jungkook to wait for you, but you had an inkling you would chicken out the second your phone indicated he was typing. The animated (...) always gave you a little bit of anxiety.

But now you’re at their front door and you’re not so sure if you feel ready. You felt ready this morning, when you dressed “comfortably but cute” in an outfit appropriate for cleaning out your previous job’s locker and just so happening to stumble upon Jungkook. That didn’t happen, and now you no longer have the cushion of being at the company surrounded by people.

It would just be him and you, for as long as you two need.

You’re only allowed to dive headfirst into the situation, because suddenly Jungkook is barreling out the door, presumably rushing to get to practice. He’s also equal amounts of sweaty, but at least has a clean shirt on. The white cotton is haphazardly thrown on, the collar so wide that the gap seeps onto his tanned chest.

Said chest barrels into your face, and you go down hard.

He cries your name like a prayer, dropping whatever’s in his hands to kneel to your aid. He’s shaking, unable to register that you’re simultaneously here and not here because he just bulldozed the entirety of his weight into your unsuspecting body.

You’re dizzy, trying hard to focus on him through bleary eyes. Jungkook looks like he’s about to cry. His carmine eyes scan your body for damages, and his one hand cards roughly through his untrimmed hair. The slight curl from yesterday’s salon job has lessened, but still manages to bounce back despite his futile attempts to get his bangs out of the way.

“J-Jung—” dammit, why was it so hard to formulate two syllables? “Oreos.”

“Wha?”

“Your Oreos,” your eyes flicker to the quickly escaping tins that came from his arms, wheeling further and further down the hallway, “running away.”

He scoffs, but you can tell he’s trying not to laugh by the quirk of his lips, “They’re fine. They’re not going anywhere,” he steps back a bit, sitting on his heels to give you some breathing room, “you on the other hand, can’t go anywhere.”

You narrow your eyes, “I didn’t come here to just leave,” you say, “I came here to talk to you, until you so gracefully said hello to me with the entirety of your muscle mass.”

Jungkook deflates, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” so much for a graceful start, “let’s get inside.”

“I uh, I have practice,” but he scrambles to pick up the Oreos and the clothes he dropped, “so we can start talking for a bit and then… ?”

“Ah, Hoseok said you can come to practice tomorrow,” he lights up at the mention of his friend, “I mean, if you want. I don’t know how important this practice is but—”

“It’s not,” he blurts, then sees the shock on your face when he’s cut you off, “I mean, it’s important but not that important. I mean uh, in comparison to now, and your head… and the Oreos.”

“Right.”

Not trusting yourself to get up too fast, you decide to crawl around to gather up the tins of Oreos while Jungkook moves to pick up your bag. With three tins gathered in your arms, you take the proffered hand Jungkook offers you to hoist you up. Your head throbs a little, but you know Jungkook’s got you. You try not to think too hard about the hand in your grip as it switches to hover over your waist as he leads you inside.

The penthouse isn’t as different as you imagined it would be. Then again, you could imagine how little time they spend in here anyway. The granite and dark wood kitchen remains, and your hands hover over the cool material. You’ve always been jealous of their living space, and often grumble about how their kitchen and living room spans about three sizes of your apartment combined.

Jungkook’s nose pokes in your bag as he sets it down, “You picked up all your work stuff?”

“Yeah,”

He gives you a strained smile, “It’s definitely not going to be the same without you at work,” you can tell how equal parts truthful and embarrassed he is, given by the way he breaks eye contact with you. “I mean, we can put in a good word for you if you want to come back?” he offers, “I don’t know if there’s still a position available for teachers but,”

You shake your head, one hand gripping the counter. You want to tell him that it isn’t his job to find him, but your heart is feeling particularly achy looking at the way he does want to help. After all, you two were still very close before your coma and the weeks leading up to your fight, “I think I want to try new things,” you say, “but thanks anyway.”

“Oh-kay,” his eyes look towards where you two should get comfy. The living room is the most obvious option, but the thought of any of his members or staff coming in at any moment terrifies him, “let’s go to my room.”

Unfortunately the Golden Closet isn’t made for two. He blanches as you two appear at his front door, noting the odds and ends of speakers, mixers, cameras and microphones taking up space on the floor and his desk. God, you must think he really doesn’t have his shit together after all this time.

“So, you still sleep on electrical equipment?” you say wryly, climbing up to reach the bed. The only reason the bed is unoccupied is because it’s a half-bunk, high enough to avoid any of Jungkook’s things.

It takes a second for Jungkook to follow you up, and he almost loses his breath at the sight of you sitting cross-legged, waiting patiently for him to sit across from you. It’s like old times, where you’d sleep in his room and wait for him to get back so you can finish another episode of whatever show you two were catching up on. It’s been awhile since he’s slept in his own bed, so the sheets are fresh and it's easy for you to sit on a clean space.

“So,” Jungkook exhales, “what’s being in a coma like?”

He wants to slap himself. Repeatedly.

Your demeanor cracks, and maybe it wasn’t the wrong thing to say because up until now he never realized how much he missed your smile. “Waking up was the awful part, like the truck crashed into me in the middle of the room,” you reel it back when you see Jungkook’s face pinch, as if he thought back to his time watching over you in the hospital, helpless, “but uh, other than that, quite painless.”

“That’s a relief,” and you feel better seeing Jungkook’s shoulders slump in his t-shirt, looking relatively calmer than before. You tilt your head, wanting to gauge his expression by sneaking a glance under his chin, where he’s tucked in his facials. “I uh, about the last time we talked…” In other words, the last time we fought, but he’s still not looking at you, and it’s so unlike him. Jungkook doesn’t like beating around the bush, he’s a man who likes to cut to the chase and get straight to the poison of a conversation.

But it’s been a full thirty seconds and you decide that’s enough, as he’s starting to look like a tortured animal and you feel the need to put him out of his misery.

Placing a gentle hand on his knee you breathe, “It’s okay,” and his eyes flicker to yours, expectant. “I’m not going to push it, push us anymore. That wasn’t fair to you and I’m sorry. But we can still be friends and that’s more important to me.”

And suddenly Jungkook’s face shoots up and he’s panicked. He looks sweaty, scarlet, and on edge all over again, as if you asked him to jump off Mount Fuji without a spotter. “Wait, wait,” he splutters, nearly banging his head on his ceiling. Jungkook tugs your hand back, pulling you to him, “y-you don’t want to try anymore?”

You stare hard at the hand encasing yours, “Like I said, I want to start a new chapter in life.”

“But that’s not what I was getting at.”

You raise a brow, “So then what are you getting at?”

And he clams up again. If you two were in a bigger space, you could imagine yourself tapping your foot impatiently, to the point that it got annoying and Jungkook would snap at you and give you a proper explanation to his weird behavior.

Finally he exhales, “I dreamed about you.”

You narrow your eyes in confusion, “What kind of dreams?”

“Random ones,” he shakes his head, trying to recollect them. “They were of us, but not really us, y’know? It was like a different life, we did all the fun stuff we used to do,” he frowns, thinking he must sound really stupid that he’s betting everything on a couple of imaginations, “and some of it wasn’t. Like we’d be in the city taking pictures, or arguing in a library. But we were so happy,” he stops himself, because now he’s starting to feel silly, “and it made me think of what would happen if I met you under different circumstances, and even though it’s hard under our circumstances I want—a-are you crying?”

You start to whine, displeased with your emotions as you start to think about the past four months. Had Jungkook seen what you lived through? If so, how? Rubbing furiously at your eyes, you shake your head furiously, “Sorry, it’s just been awhile since I’ve cried it out,” you forge up, “pl-please continue.”

Jungkook moves sloth-slow, making sure his actions didn’t hurt you in any way. When he senses your consent, he pulls you over to his side of the bed, wrapping a tentative arm around your shoulder. Your scent engulfs his senses when you instinctively lay your head on his shoulder, your breath lingering between his neck.

“I really hated myself for a while,” he admits, “when I saw you in that hospital bed, I just couldn’t stop thinking about all the things I’ve wanted to experience with you and,” he’s starting to feel a glimmer of what you’re feeling, and he sniffs, resting his chin on your head, “if you’re going to start a new chapter in life, I want to be part of it too because I love you.”

Expecting your shock, he turns his head away for yours to whip up, face centimeters from yours. “Y-you love me?” you echo, mouth open and eyes wide.

He laughs at your expression, “I’m sure you knew that. We’ve been idiots for the better half of the year.”

“I know… but hearing it is different!” you’re caught up in the whirlwind, leaning forward to tug on his collar, “C-can I kiss you?” A little part of you is impatient, a bit too greedy for your usual demeanor but you’ve longed for him so.

Jungkook pouts, “You didn’t even say I love you back.”

“That’s a no?”

“I didn’t even brush my teeth…”

“Jungkook.”

He tries not to smile too hard at your eagerness. As much as he wants to kiss you, he needs to think better and continue on with his apology. It’s the least you deserve. “I’m sorry for not respecting your feelings that day,” he says, running his hands across your body. They stop at the curve of your waist, holding you down flush against him. You feel your body sing in response, but you tamp it down when he continues, “I shouldn’t have made the decision for you by rejecting you like that, it… it wasn’t fair to our feelings.”

“It wasn’t fair at all, and it hurt a lot.” you agree completely, and as much as it pained him to hear it, he needed to. Letting go of his collar, you sit back between his legs, “but I understand why.”

“And the next morning when I woke up, and everyone was crying I—” he’s choked up, tangling a hand through your hair to affirm that you’re really here, and really okay, “I know it’s not my fault, but I felt like I was in a movie. Like one of those crappy romances where one character gets into a really bad accident and the dumb boy finally realizes how much he loves her.”

He looks guilty, as if he wants to tack on how he feels like it is his fault. Jungkook bites his lip, fearful that you’ve realized he’s not good enough for you. No matter how many times he’s fabricated the scenario in his head, he only pictures the disappointment and pain in your features for falling for a guy like him.

But instead, you reach over with bright eyes leaning on your elbows to press a kiss to Jungkook’s mouth. It isn’t even a long kiss, but it feels nothing short of a cool wave washing him in relief. You pull away before he could deepen it, and you giggle when you see his mouth still puckered open like a fish. “You are a dumb boy,” you murmur, “but I still love you.”

You go soft in his grip when his eyes glow, sparkling carmine with nothing but sheer love and affection for you. The feeling comes unbridled, genuine and all-encompassing for the first time in a long time. He doesn’t know how much time he can cherish with you before he’s whisked away to his next activity, but he can surely make the best of what he has now.

It takes no effort for him to pull you in a sitting position, making it so your arms wrap around his trim waist. Snug together, he presses kisses to every part of your face, your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, your lips.

This feeling, this touch is long overdue for the both of you, but you’re languid in your attention, letting it wash over you like the sun on a warm day. You’ve missed him so much, you’ve missed this Jungkook. The man who has been with you through thick and thin for over a year, who’s struggled with the weight of the world and the audience of millions, is in love with you as much as you are him. Jungkook, who sings your worries away and makes you want to become a better person with each passing moment, is holding you like the most precious thing on the planet.

His kisses turn white hot, wetting your neck as he hoists you up to settle neatly on his thighs. A soft, high-pitched sigh escapes your lips when you feel something hard and thick press into your core.

A sense of urgency fills his radar at the press of your thighs locking tighter around his body. “Fuck, babe—” his hands grip the swell of your hips, bucking into you once, twice, so hard that the frame shakes. “You’re so, pretty I—” you moan into his neck, hands running every expanse of available skin, “I love you so, so much, pretty girl.”

You stop to clutch his face with both hands, enjoying the way your thumbs brush his pretty cheekbones and your palms fill with his soft, adorable cheeks. “I love you, too. Now, will you make love to me?”

“Fuck, yes,” and the fondness in your eyes immediately glaze over when he throws all his weight into you again, making you feel weak and wet with pleasure.

“Jungkook,” you drawl, “just like that, please I—AH!”

It isn’t a cry of pleasure. A little too into it, Jungkook thrusts particularly hard, enough for you to come down and the bedframe to soon follow. There’s a sickening crack in the metal, and the both of you immediately scramble as you feel your combined weight sinking into the corner of the bunk. Jungkook clutches your body in a vice, prepared to protect you in the event you two come crashing down. Now Jungkook remembers why he hasn’t been sleeping in his bed as of late.

It’s dead silent, apart from your labored breathing. When your eyes finally refocus, you notice that you two have dipped and you’re looking at Jungkook from a slight angle, your weight tipping. You two broke the frame.

“Kook,” you cry, digging your nails into his shoulder, “you need a new bed!”

He shakes his head, “Don’t think this bed was made for this kind of activity,” he peels the thin mattress, noting the way that two bolts in the paneling have come loose. One panel has already slipped, hanging at the edge and creating a large gap. He shakes his butt experimentally, noting the way the framework swerves with him. “That’s not good.”

“How could you have not noticed the loose bed frame!”

“It’s kind of hard to worry about your bed when you have a job that requires you being awake 25/8.”

“Well, how do we get down without bringing the whole frame down?”

“Uh, I’ll throw you down in that little space by the door. Make sure to tuck in your knees and make a ‘lil triangle with your hands in case—”

“What the fuck—you’re going to take a chance and throw the love of your life down the bunk?”

“Babeeee,” he whines, eyes zeroing in on his precious computer directly under the frame, “there’s expensive equipment down there!”

With a glare, you swivel your hips on his dick and he groans, unable to move. He barely gets a centimeter upwards before the frame moves and squeaks even lower. You don’t bat an eye when Jungkook panics for your safety over pleasure. Payback. “Call Seokjin,” you demand, pulling out your phone from your back pocket, “now.”

There’s something familiar in this kind of banter, and you want to akin this feeling to home. All your tears shed, your longings to go back to this world, all pinpoint to the home that is Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook mutters something under his breath about you being too bossy, punching the numbers in. As soon as Seokjin answers, you send him a sultry wink and move.

It… isn’t sexy. You’re giggling as Jungkook holds his breath, tells Seokjin on the line as tersely as possible that he needs to get here as soon as possible with some help and a new bed frame. Jungkook’s face is read, giving you warning looks as you bounce on him, the metal edging you on in a way that’s simultaneously unsafe and thrilling. When Jungkook hangs up, he sends you a look that says you’re gonna get it but instead presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. The chaste gesture makes you melt in his arms.

Silent, he pulls away and your thumb brushes his shiny lips, smiling at you as you wait it out.

As you lean your head in his shoulder and wait for help, you’re reminded of something. Not long ago, another Jungkook told you that he couldn’t wait to fall in love with you again, and now you’re echoing the same sentiment. You can’t wait to love him, too.

#jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #bts fic #goldenclosetnet #btsghostiebingo #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic

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hansolmates · 4 years ago

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jjk; angel’s trumpet [01]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut in future chapters w.c; 2.7k a/n; after spending an entirety of june on this fic im proud to release it! this story is based on the prompt “I’m losing my mind!” for @btsghostiewritersnet BGW Bingo Bash! I hope you all enjoy this mini series and stay tuned for this wild ride

[01] [02] -> masterpost

“Just give it up!” Jungkook snaps, and you flinch at the sudden raise in voice level. Jungkook is a soft spoken person, only really having the audacity to speak up at the strength of his friends or when his body burns with attention after a performance. The fact that he chooses to use this tone around you, gets you seeing white hot.

“How can I give up something that hasn’t even started?” you shoot back just as stubbornly. He won’t even let you in his room, and it pains you that he wants to fight out in the hallway where anyone could walk in and see. You glare at the heavy arms that bar your way inside, as if he’s creating a barrier for you, both emotionally and physically.

You hate this. For the past three months you’ve hated this version of yourself, manifested between the strained relationship of you and Jungkook. It pains you to see each other like this. Jungkook’s ears are tinged red with fever, simultaneously a little sick and a little annoyed at the fact that you wouldn’t let up.

It wasn’t always mismatched stares and bouts of mixed signals whenever you two entered a room. There was a time when it being in each other’s presence was like a breath of fresh air, a bakery full of nothing but sweets and mouth-watering confections. That’s not to say that your relationship with Jungkook was, or is easy. After all, Jungkook chose a life that is never meant to be easy, no matter how far deep.

But at the crux of everything, deep in your gut, you know that the both of you have that spark.

“We can’t be together.” Jungkook states simply, pressing his coral lips together in a thin line. “My career! The traveling, the media, my crazy schedule, all of this, it doesn’t match.”

It doesn’t match. Like the way a toddler puts a triangle block in a square space. In your opinion Jungkook is pointing out shallow, baseless reasons. You’ve gotten this far together, not quite addressing any officiality but leading to it. If all of his reasons really mattered, you wouldn’t be here right now. Unfortunately, Jungkook’s deciding to cut the line when the two of you have already sunk so deep.

You’re both hurting, Jungkook doesn’t want to admit that.

“But that doesn’t matter to me!” you reason, and you’re crumbling. Jungkook was once a fighter, too. Today, it feels like it’s just you who’s taking a stand, grappling on thin slices of thread that resemble what little confidence Jungkook has in the both of you. “I want to keep you grounded. I want to be the person you come home to.”

Jungkook’s face reaches the final boss: a frustrating shade of scarlet, stunned at how shameless you are. You didn’t care, you know what you and Jungkook feel for each other is real.

In a fit of emotion your hands reach for the crook of his elbow, grappling the black fabric between your fingers. It’s enough to ignite heat in your veins, starved of touch from so many nights apart and text messages that weren’t enough to convey how you truly felt.

Jungkook’s eyes drag from your grip to your face, eyes glimmering. You look so small in the large hallway, empty and echoing between both your heaving breaths. There’s acute control in his expression, as if he’s grappling to reach both an inner and outer peace with himself.

You bite your lip, sealing away your whimper of protest as he takes his hand in yours, untacking your grip. He’s not rough, but not gentle either as your hand pendulums to your lap.

He turns his back to you, and for the first time you’re glad he looks away because the tears have already fallen. “Maybe in another world, we’d work out. But not this one.” Jungkook whispers, slamming the door to his studio.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

“Baby, it’s okay! You’ll find a new person to love!” The neverending flow of liquor and poetics is provided by none other than Sehlyung, a fellow employee you befriended after you got hired as a language teacher.

You barely register Sehlyung’s hopeful smile through your misty eyes. Feeling bloated with liquid and far too tired to reply, you bob your head against the bar table.

Sehlyung is the epitome of a fun time, and the first person you thought of to help quell your aching heart. A relationship that first started off as snide jokes and offhanded work qualms that eventually turned into a deep understanding and care for each other. After a long day of work she pulled through for you, showing up at the bar like a warrior in emerald green pencil slacks and an untucked blouse. At the edge of the bar she absentmindedly winds a lock of pale curly hair, sipping languidly from her electric blue beverage.

“Listen, I get it. You think it’s the end of the world because Jungkook seems like the perfect catch—” the pretty blonde pauses when she notices your lip tremble, “but! He’s not that perfect, y’know. He—he sweats, sweats a lot, it’s like he’s freakin’ Niagara! It takes forever to get outfits on him in-between sets, it’s like clothing a wet noodle.”

You choke back a laugh, shaking your head. “That is one flaw.”

“A-and he’s very,” she starts waving her hands around, plucking the answer out of thin air, “competitive? Remember that one time Nabi said he couldn’t finish that whole loaf of milk bread? And then he accidentally ended up eating the parchment paper?”

That has you in a fit of giggles, recalling how scared he was when his urge to make Nabi regret her words bit him right back in the butt. The hospital’s personal phone became number 8 on his speed dial shortly after.

A fond, tentative smile melts on Sehlyung’s lips. At least you had it in in you to laugh, which Sehlyung knows is a good sign. She runs her fingers over your hair, forehead damp from your previous wallowing and overconsumption. ”You’re gonna find yourself a simple, wholesome partner! One who’s top-tier normie and will have all the time in the world for you!”

You grimace at the thought, despite how uplifting that sounds. You once thought that was the only life for you, a nuclear family with two point five kids (the half point being a puppy, of course.) While you wouldn’t mind that kind of life, after meeting Jungkook you decided long ago that all you ever needed in a relationship was his company and combined happiness.

“Time isn’t the issue,” you slur, voice warped from how your lips fall tiredly against your arm. “This issue is that he doesn’t want to try.”

Sehlyung doesn’t say anything to that, but instead prefers to pour you another glass of liquid despair. Of course, she knew how Jungkook got. Sweet and caring, but headstrong, letting nothing get in the way of his music.

Evidently, you’re one of those things.

“Boys are dumb,” she says simply, swinging her head back.

“I’ll be okay,” you murmur, “it just hurts. There’s no closure, y’know? I feel it, I feel so much love for him. And I know he feels, he feels something.”

Sehlyung bites her lip, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey, I got you a gift.”

That gets you to perk up, your head tipping a miniscule degree. She pulls out a glass, filled with a clear liquid. It’s small, almost vial-shaped, enough for barely two shots. Inside, there’s a young flower shaped like a bellsprout.

“It’s angel wine,” she chirps, pulling your shot glass to give you a hearty pour. “The old lady was selling it when I was getting my mom her ginger wine.”

“Hm, is it like ginseng?” you ask curiously, grabbing the now half-empty bottle where the wet flower sat. The bell shape, despite being bloated with residual wine, still clung vibrantly to the glass. The bumblebee yellow and sunset orange tint looking absolutely mesmerizing. However, you’ve never seen an infused liquor quite like this.

“Think so,” Sehlyung shrugs, “I’m sure you’ll like it though! I told her about how you got dumped and she said you’d need this to cap off your night!”

She snatches the bottle from your hands, making sure it’s sealed tight before slipping into your purse. “That wine’s special, baby,” she winks, “save it for yourself when you get home, alright?”

“Gee, Lyungie,” you deadpan, swirling the fragrant liquid, “I’m so glad my boy drama is spreading to your wine dealer.”

Your friend holds her own drink in a toast, urging you to drink up. You don’t need to be told twice, the floral liquid going down surprisingly smooth. It’s sweet, and your whole body tingles. It’s like the feeling of being outside, and the sun shines over your exposed skin like a warm kiss. For a brief moment, you feel like you’re seeing pink and orange, blissfully satiated.

“Mm,” you hum, licking your lips in hopes the feeling will return to you, “that’s some good stuff, got anymore?”

Sehlyung scoffs, only mildly jealous that you get that particular drink all to yourself. “I wish. An arm and a leg cost me that, my hometown is very far!”

The rest of the night is a haze, a comfortable one. Sehlyung goes off about Namjoon and his countless wardrobe malfunctions, keeping her from going home on time one way too many nights. You talk about how you’re getting into real progress with Soobin’s English, and how he doesn’t complain his head hurts when he speaks in full sentences. Hopefully he isn’t too mad when you send him a pop quiz next Tuesday.

Sehlyung’s cab drops you off first, and she bids you a hug and kiss goodbye. She tells you to come a little early before your first class, because she wants to redesign Seokjin’s blazer for a new shoot and she wants you to pick out the best crystals.

You know she just wants to show off and that your opinion is minimal because most of the decisions are made weeks before, but the gesture is appreciated. From Sehlyung’s knowing gaze, you have a feeling that she’s also doing this because she wants to keep you at arm’s length for as long as possible.

The cab zips away first, leaving you in front of your apartment complex. You’re teetering on your heels like an infant, and you’re surprised that you managed to fake-sober this far into the night.

Speaking of. It’s beautiful outside. With a tired sigh, you wrap yourself further into your burgundy knitted scarf, begging for warmth. You feel a fresh bout of tears surfacing as you look onto the pale yellow moon, shrouded by thick ghosty clouds among the starless sky. You wonder if Jungkook is looking at the same moon, thinking the same thing.

You shake your head and wipe your tears, absolving you of that romantic notion. Jungkook hasn’t had the time to look at the stars in so long. You imagine he’s probably either working or sleeping soundly in his bunk, completely oblivious of the semi-depressing night you’ve had. You don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse that Jungkook doesn’t have the opportunity to dwell on feelings for too long.

The midnight sky starts to flicker, as if night and day are competing for dominance. Either that, or it’s really late in the night and early in the day. Your vision starts to blur, and you wonder if the secretary at the front desk would be so kind as to help you up to your apartment. It’s embarrassing, but it’s better than you cracking your skull open in the middle of the hallway where anyone can find you. You clutch your head, bemoaning on how much alcohol must be running through your blood if you’re hallucinating this much.

Wiping your bleary face, you dig into your purse for your keys. Upon pulling out the key your favorite lip balm rolls onto the street. A little part of you feels like leaving it behind so you can get to bed, but it’s your favorite one and you are so close to finishing it. Muttering a curse at the thought of bending down at the possibility of you vomiting in public, you quickly scramble to the ground. Your knees buck at the pavement, tiny stones digging into your skin. Focusing your gaze on the pink and blue plastic, you reach for the glittery tube.

Unfortunately, you’re not quick enough to notice the moving truck swerve the corner and skid towards your body.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

The first thing you notice is that it’s unbearably bright. Like when you vegetate in a dark classroom watching a movie, and the teacher suddenly flips the lights on without warning and your brain panics from the shock.

You’re also painfully sober, as if you didn’t have a liquor-based dinner. Your bladder doesn’t feel like a small child is sitting on it, and you’re wide awake.

Someone’s yelling at you, their voice shrill from emotion yet gravely from the early morning. Suddenly there’s a whip of hot air against your hair and a harsh skid as the smell of tire on gravel fills your nose. You’re on sensory overload, and you don’t have the capacity to care about your surroundings.

This is probably the third time you have to mentally repeat to yourself that it’s daytime, the sun shining brightly on your fallen form. Your body is splayed out in a half-starfish position, and you quickly close your legs in fear of someone seeing up your skirt. You put up a hand to cover your face, and it’s instantly snatched up by a larger one.

“Hey, hey! Are you okay? I know I turned the corner pretty fast, but you shouldn’t be standing in the middle of the street like that!” the person calling you sounds frantic, frustrated at your lack of response.

Your eyes flicker to the small jet black cruiser strewn across the sidewalk, haphazardly parked. Fingers curling around the person’s hand, you look up at their face and scream.

It’s now their turn to collapse on the floor, eyes wide and terrified. Their soft black hair is fluffy and sweaty from using their helmet, now rolling away from their grip.

“What?” he screams back, as if there’s something on his face. His hand whips up to clutch his collar, undoing the top button because he’s starting to sweat profusely. “Are you really injured? Do I need to call an ambulance or something—”

“Jungkook!” you cry, ripping the woolen scarf from your neck to wrap it around the top half of his face. You scramble between his legs, making sure his piercings, tattoos and any other identifiable part of his body is concealed. You don’t even think about your fight from last night, knowing that it’s miniscule in comparison to Jungkook being swarmed by PR. “Kook, what the fuck? It’s broad daylight, you can’t be out like this without a mask! Where on earth did you hide that bike? Why—are you wearing fucking pastel green? Since when have you added color to your wardrobe?” the boy noticeably pauses at the attention to his outfit, tensing under your ministrations. “Dispatch will have your ass and the devil Min Yoongi’ll kill you again for sneaking out—”

It’s then that Jungkook snaps, two strong arms pushing you away like paper. You don’t expect Jungkook to ever lay a hand on you, and with a surprised yelp you’re painfully shoved onto the pavement.

“Get off of me!” he cries, and throws your scarf on your lap. “Who the hell are you and why do you know my name?”

He’s scared, holding his helmet like you’ve burned him. His doe eyes are glistening and dewy, as if you’re someone he should be running away from.

“Jungkook—” and as you hold out your hand to him, you realize.

I’m losing my mind, you think, clutching your head to double-check no injury has come to your brain. His hair is much, much longer. It waves and falls into his eyes, as if he’s just gotten out of bed. He’s wearing a backpack, and you notice some crumpled post-its sticking out of the zipper. Clipped around his neck is a university ID. Heck, he isn’t even wearing an outfit you recognize. Gone are the cargos and oversized sweats, replaced with professionally tapered dress pants and a plain polo.

Is... is Jungkook wearing khakis?

It’s daylight, you’re sober, and the Jungkook that’s standing in front of you is not your Jungkook.

#jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #goldenclosetnet #thekpopnetwork #btsghostiebingo #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #bts fic #bts fluff #jungkook scenarios

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