#posting ones in million years a jjk art !??

[nothingbizzare]

Burned memory

[httpknjoon]

taking chances | jjk

plot | After taking your chances with Jungkook three months ago, you two cross paths again. This time, the rockstar takes risks to ask Zafiro's royal princess out.

words | 4.7k+

genres | fluff, modern royalty!au, celebrity!au

pairing | rockstar!jungkook x princess!reader

note | a continuation. i made a playlist for this series! feel free to check it out :) I hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as I had fun writing this!

main masterlist | drabble series

“He totally likes you.”

Astrid immediately said as soon as you two were left alone in the palace. You know she has been itching to say that ever since you left Crystalline Stadium earlier. 

“Stop making up such a thing, Astrid,” you replied.

You don’t want to get your hopes high. But by the way that Jungkook acted earlier, your heart skipped with the idea that he might like you. Stop, YN. You warned yourself. This isn’t the first time you felt a brief infatuation with someone. It’s just that you usually took an interest in guys you bond with back when you were still studying. You never had a crush on someone you just saw singing and playing a guitar in a two-hour performance.

Unsatisfied with your response, your sister followed behind you as you walked up the stairs. She continue speaking behind you until you got in your room. She stopped on your room’s doorstep while you ignored her.

“I think everyone who was in that room can tell, YN. Jungkook tried to start a conversation with you! He was interested in you and your thoughts! He asked if you were a fan of their group even though you’re obviously not!  He even kissed your hand!” 

She was almost rapping with how many words she said in seconds. Her index finger points at your hand as if you were not aware of that. You rolled your eyes at how excited she seemed. 

“Can you lower your voice? I’m sure the house staff are already resting at this hour.” you quipped, trying to bury the topic away.

But Astrid was consistent. She went on, “And Mingyu! Mingyu tried to get our contacts. He tried! He also made Jungkook stand next to you before taking pictures with us.”

To avoid waking up other people in the palace, you just pulled her into your room and closed the door shut. A smile was stamped on her lips. You exhaled heavily, your shoulder rising up and down.

“Astrid, why are you pointing out all of these? What do you want me to do about it?”

Out of all the people in the world, you knew Astrid the most. You are each other’s partner in crime even though you have a six-year gap. You can read through her easily. That’s why she ran to you first when she needed help or advice. And based on that suspicious look on her face, her gears are turning for some crazy idea.

She grinned, “Give him a shot! Reach out to him.”

You immediately raised an eyebrow, scoffing, “Are you crazy?! Give him a shot?”

Astrid nods and you continue.

“Astrid, you don’t have to play Cupid for me. You didn’t even ask me if I–”

“Oh, you like him! You like him! I know it. I never saw you so timid and flustered with someone like earlier!” she cuts you off abruptly. “And the chemistry— it was crazy. I promise you, I never felt so thirdwheeled in my life.”

You bit your lower lip to stop yourself from smiling at what she said.

“You still have your Instagram account, right?” she asked.

You acted clueless, “Of course, why would I delete it?”

Astrid slowly squinted her eyes at you, “No, not your official account. You know what I’ve been talking about. Your secret one. The one where you post your art.”

Tired, you nod your head defeatedly. You knew she won’t get off your back until you do something.

“Great!” she clapped her hands. “Now, slide into his DMs!”

You blinked, “Again, are you crazy?”

“Chill! It’s not like he’ll read it right away. He’s in the largest band in the whole world. He has millions of followers and you will be using your Finsta. It’s honestly a needle in a haystack situation.”

She’s right. It’s not like he will recognize you with your secret Instagram account.

“Then, why are we doing this if this is just impossible?” You asked with your hands on your hips.

“I don’t know.” Astrid paused. But then her eyes light up again,  “But let’s just try. Let’s see if destiny plays out.”

“Destiny, my foot.” you scoffed before reaching for your phone.

You sat on the other end of your bed. Your younger sister watched as you think, type, and think again. Less than two minutes later, you showed her your screen,

“There, I messaged him.”

Astrid’s eyes squinted while she scanned your chats to her favorite band’s singer, “Why do you still feel formal even when sliding into someone’s DM?” she teased. “Is this how you flirt?”

“Oh, shut up. Just go out of my room right now,” you told her like you were offended, threatening to throw your fluffy pillow in her direction.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Send it!” she cackled, standing up from the foot of your bed. She turned to you once again, “But in all seriousness though, thank you for coming with me tonight! I had so much fun. I appreciate it a lot.”

“Anything for my favorite sister.” you quipped.

She grinned and enveloped you in a tight hug. And after she leaves and closes your door, you find yourself staring at your phone screen. As if your breathing got heavier and louder.  Is he going to reply? Is he? If not, it’s fine. It’s not a big deal. We only met now. And it’s definitely not. It’s not like I’m hoping for it.

Shaking your head, you turned off your phone to stop your head from having more thoughts. You changed into your comfortable clothes and head to sleep, hoping not to have any special visitors in your dreams tonight.

“What did he say? What did he say?”

As soon as you get out of your bedroom door, your little sister greeted you with elated questions. You looked at her. She was still in her favorite pajamas while you are already ready for your agenda for the day.

“And good morning to you too, Astrid.” you smiled before walking past her and down the stairs. Of course, she followed behind you.

“Oh, my god. Did he reply? What did he say?”

She had her hands clasped on her chest when turned around to answer her. You can tell she had her hopes up high. 

“It was left on read, almost at the same time I sent it.”

The moment you said that, you see how the smile on her lips falls into a small o.

“Oh.”

“Guess, I’m just some needle in his haystack.” you joked, which made her pout. You laughed, shaking it off,  “I’m kidding. It’s fine.”

You entered the dining area of the palace. The staff who were serving your meals and preparing the table greeted you and your sisters. You greeted them back as you sat on your usual seats out of twenty other chairs in this spacious room.

“Rosie, can I ask for lemons and honey for my water?” you asked one of the servants.

“Of course, Your Royal Highness.”

“Thank you.”

You ignored the baffled look on Astrid’s face at the same time you tried to turn a blind eye to that tightness in your stomach when you open your phone this morning. You don’t want to show Astrid that you were expecting so you try to play it off.

Before you can take a bite from your toast, your sister finally said something. “Maybe he thought you were just a random account.”

As much as you appreciate her effort to make everything better, you just want to move on from this topic. You were already sure from the beginning anyways that it was impossible to have such a connection with a world-famous rockstar like Jungkook. It was great to meet and see him perform live anyway.

“Sure, sure, Astrid. Now, let’s just have a peaceful breakfast and go on our day.”

“Turn here!”

“On your left!”

“Princess, here!”

The continuous flashes of lights and clicking sounds of cameras goes along with the requests of the photographers around you. You tried to accommodate their requests, turning your head and subtly posing for their lenses. For a quick second, you glanced around the white carpet, scanning among the unfamiliar faces, and eased off your shoulder when you spotted Nathalie, your assistant private secretary, in the corner. She was just behind you, fixing the tail of your gown as you move.

This year’s Met Gala theme is something along the lines of reimagining fairytales. Anna Wintour exclusively invited five royalties from around the world to come to the event. You and Astrid were among those five invited royalties. But your sister had to withdraw just four days ago due to flu. After learning that news, you almost didn’t want to go. 

You posed for a few more shots before you see Nathalie gesturing for you to go up the carpeted stairs. Before you reached the top, your eyes spotted the designer of your gown, who walked earlier than you. 

“You look magnificent, Your Royal Highness.” she greeted you as you shake hands with her.

“Thank you so much, Maria. This gown is marvelous.” you praised her. “I appreciate the adjustments you made.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Fran and I just knew you would be perfect in that gown. So we accepted the requests you had before.”

The Dior gown was originally quite revealing on the chest part. As a royal, you were often required (but not limited) to wear something modest. So when you saw this yellow gown in the choices your stylist, Fran, presented to you, you chose it with the request to put a fine cover-up for that certain part.

“Anyway, we’re going inside for the tour. Are you coming, Your Highness?” she asked.

You paused, looking at her then to Nathalie, who is now beside you, “I’ll catch up.”

Maria smiled and bid her goodbye. You smiled at her before turning to your assistant. Your smile fades as you asked her,

“Are you really not going inside?”

“Yeah, I talked to other celebrity assistants here. Apparently, we can only stay here outside as we were not invited to enter the venue. Only the red carpet.” she explained.

Your eyebrows scrunched together as you bit your lip. You just air out your frustration through a small sigh through your nose. Nat smiled, handing you your purse.

“Don’t worry, Ma’am. Your phone’s in it. Taking personal photos was not allowed. But give me a call if you want to go after the dinner event. I’ll have our ride ready and I’ll meet you here at the outside.” she assures you, holding your gloved hand. “But please enjoy the night, Your Highness.”

“Astrid should have been here,” you mumbled, sounding like a kid about to throw a fit.

Nat chuckled with you. She knew your worries. This is the first time someone from your kingdom was invited to Met Gala. You are not only representing yourself but also your country. The pressure feels like you’re in a beauty pageant. 

“You don’t have to stay for too long, okay? Just mingle a little, sip some cocktails, and enjoy their dinner there. Then, you can dial me.” she tried to assure you again.

“Okay, okay.” you sighed. “Thank you so much, Nat.”

You began to walk away as she raised her two thumbs up. An event staff, who you mistook for a model who was just standing in the background,  gave you directions on where to turn and go. He said it was only cocktail hour, and the dinner will be starting later. He encouraged you to look around the exhibition. He also helped you with the trail of your gown so you to move more comfortably.

“Thank you–” you paused, waiting for him to say his name.

“My name is Drew, Your Highness.”

You nod as you gave him a smile, “Thank you, Drew.”

“Oh, Your Royal Highness!”

You turned as you heard someone addressing you in the busy background. There, you see the woman of the hour, Anna walking up to you. She was smiling and sans her fashionable sunglasses, different from what you would usually see in pictures. 

“Anna, thank you so much for the invite." you beamed before shaking hands with her. “Astrid sends her apologies for not being able to make it here tonight.”

“It’s fine. We will always have it next year! Let’s talk about this dress, it’s gorgeous!” she exclaimed while making you turn around for her. “The color suits you magnificently. And the tiara, it’s perfect! Who made it?”

“Oh, it’s from Zafiro. It was made by a local jeweler that the King commissioned.” you proudly replied.

With the image of a certain Disney princess in your stylist’s mind, your father gifted you a gold tiara with bejeweled red roses in it. Jewelry and such are Zafiro’s top products. It’s been your father’s goal to make your country known by producing delicate and elegant pieces of jewelry.

“Maybe we can feature it for our editorials in the future.” She suggested and finally, you. “Anyway, have you gone around the exhibition?”

“Not yet. I just got in here minutes ago.”

“You should look around here, Princess. There are a lot of wonderful works here, you’ll love it. I heard you’re an artist yourself too– Do you want some drinks?” she offered when a server passed by, holding a tray of various drinks.

“Sure. Red wine is fine.” you smiled and they handed you one. You carefully took a sip before continuing your talk with Anna, “I just paint and draw in my free time.”

“That’s what being an artist is, Your Highness.” she chuckled.

You two began to walk to the main exhibit. You were silently grateful to have company. She was graceful in describing and talking about the displayed fashion pieces. But of course, she is Anna Wintour. Other guests were approaching her. She then had to go and mingle with one of her favorite models.

“Please, enjoy. I’ll see you at our table later.” she smiled.

“I will. Thank you.”

And almost immediately when she walked away, you felt alone. You looked around and everyone know everyone. They were laughing and chatting while holding their glasses. Holding tighter to your own glass of wine, you took a long slow deep breath.

Just look around.

The place is amazing and if your sister was here, you would probably enjoy it. Still, you decided to look around.

“Do you think we can smoke in the bathroom?”

Jungkook simply chuckled at Mingyu’s mumbled question as they looked around the displays. Tonight was their first Met Gala. Jungkook was invited through Dior while his bandmate was invited through Balmain. They arrived separately but found each other inside the MET.

“Oh, hey, Jungkook! Mingyu!”

Before Jungkook can even recognize the owner of the voice, Louise was already standing in front of them. She smiled before kissing each of their right cheeks.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” she exclaimed, talking to Jungkook only. “I watched your band’s show last week in Nashville with my best friends. You were so good! We tried to congratulate you backstage but your manager said you’re not accepting guests.”

This time, her hand lands on his chest, feeling the texture of his tux. Mingyu was hiding his teasing grin as he take a sip in his cocktail. Jungkook forced a smile before holding the model’s hand. He played it off to remove her hand away as he replied.

“Yeah, I… was kinda sick.”

Louise's eyebrows raised as she awwed, “Oh, how are you now?”

“I’m good. I got better,” he replied awkwardly.

He side-eyed his best friend for a quick second. It was a simple signal for help as Jungkook felt claustrophobic in this current scenario he is in. Louise is no stranger to him. They have met before and became acquaintances, way too far than she claims in interviews. She slides in his DM whenever she can, which in that case is every week. Jungkook always tries to be polite to her, replying to her relentless greetings. But he always finds a way to excuse himself from her invitations to hang out. He’s just not interested.

Mingyu, who is aware of this, butts in, “You know, I think the dinner will be served soon. We should go to our table.”

“Really? Maybe we should.” Jungkook agrees.

Louise seemed to frown for a second before another celebrity greeted her and got her lost in a conversation. Mingyu took the chance to pull Jungkook away, mixing in the crowd.

“The last time you were sick, we were in Zafiro.” Mingyu scoffed. 

Jungkook rolled his eyes and as if it was fated, his eyes landed on someone in a yellow gown. He cannot see properly due to distance and a bit of dim light. But he can recognize who it was.

“Is… that YN?” he guessed, making his bandmate look in the same direction.

"She’s here?!”

You were chatting with a famous celebrity couple. His heart skips when he sees you laugh. To say that you looked wonderful would be an understatement. You were easily noticeable with the color of your gown that suits you absolutely. He wondered if you had been here earlier or later than him. He didn’t know you were making an appearance. But he’s not that surprised that you’re here as you were known to be a fan of the arts too. 

“Let’s go talk to her–”

“Please go back to your seats, dinner will be served.” a staff interrupted them.

Jungkook sees you being guided as well by someone who you seemed to know. He assisted you with your dress and Jungkook quietly eyes you two until he saw you seating at the same table as Anna Wintour and other major guests. 

“Oh, it’s an honor to meet you!”

One of your favorite musicians is now seating next to you. You cannot stop yourself from smiling as she introduced herself. You didn’t mean to be so excited to shake her hands when she offered it.

“Oh, my. The honor’s all mine! I do know who you are! I am a fan of yours.” you exclaimed. “I know jazz isn’t really your main genre. But I really adore every jazz song you performed. You and Tony Bennett were fantastic together when I watched you perform during your tour years ago ”

“Thank you so much, Princess YN.” Lady Gaga replied.

She was so nice as you express your love for her jazz endeavors. You felt more comfortable, sitting next to her. She even made conversations with you and complimented you with your gown. Your heart was happy. You almost forgot she was a co-host of the event if she didn’t mention it.

“I heard this is your first time visiting New York, Your Highness.” 

Another known designer, who was at the same table as you, brought up. Suddenly, everyone’s eyes are on you and you felt smaller in your seat. This is strange.

“It is,” you replied with a small smile.

“How are you enjoying it so far?” an actor asked.

“Oh, I haven’t really been anywhere than my hotel room.” you joked. “I just arrived here this morning.”

Then, everyone starts recommending what you should do and where you should visit. They mentioned popular spots and restaurants. They also added some seemingly fun activities. But as much as you like that, you will not be staying for too long in the country for your duty in Zafiro. But instead of telling that, you just replied:

“I will, I will.”

Throughout the whole dinner, Jungkook tried to remain engaged in whatever conversation was happening in their own table circle. He laughed along to their jokes while also stealing glances in your direction. He sees you mingling and laughing at the beginning of the dinner service.

But as the night gets older and almost everybody began standing up from their chairs to dance along to the music being played in the background, you remained in your seat. Jungkook thought of going up to you to invite you to maybe dance, but he saw you kindly declining a couple of people who tried to do the same thing. You just watched them quietly.

“Hey, JK.” Mingyu, who has right beside him, snapped him out of his gaze at you.

Jungkook turned his head around.

His friend continued, “There’s an afterparty hosted by Stell McCartney at Zero Bond. Let’s go. I think everyone’s coming there. It’s gonna be fun.”

“Yeah, sure. We just can’t stay too late. We still have to perform tomorrow.” Jungkook reminds him and Mingyu nods.

And when Jungkook looks back at the same spot you were at, your chair is already empty. One of his eyebrows raised and his eyes traveled around the place. After a quick scan, he spotted your back going in the direction of the main exhibit.

You don’t know why. But sometimes, being a royal makes you feel a bit isolated. It’s not that no one wants to interact with you– actually, a lot of people did. It’s just that you know every move you do will reflect your country and family.  So, you try to be careful in this large, crowded event. So, here you are, in one of the most significant and fabulous events in the fashion world, sitting on the same chair you have been sitting in thirty-five minutes ago.

Three men had already tried to invite you to vibe along with the fun music but you only smiled and gently reject them. You don’t really dance except for formal ones. 

“She doesn’t really talk much, doesn’t she?”

It was a whispered question that you managed to hear from someone not too close to you. Even though they didn’t mention any names, you knew who they were talking about. You felt glances towards you. So you turned, offering a small smile to them. They seemed surprised as their eyes widened before they smiled back, slightly bowed, and walked away. 

Maybe I should just call Nat.

You sighed, agreeing to that idea. But before that, you get up and silently make your way to the main exhibit. To at least look around one last time before you leave this magnificent museum.

It was quieter in this area. A staff bowed at you when your eyes met as you entered the room.

“I apologize, can I still look around here?” you asked them.

“Of course, ma’am. We just don’t expect someone going in here while the party is still going on there,” she said and you simply smiled.

You felt calmer as you take in the intricate designs of the gowns displayed. Even the suits for men were perfect for the theme. Without many people around, you were given more chances to focus on the displays. You simply examine every design that was brought to your younger years. You used to sketch unlimited numbers of clothes and designs when you got your first crayons and sketchpad. It’s nothing compared to these gowns but it showed your colorful imagination back then. You imagine the four-year-old version of yourself jumping up and down while looking at every fashion gown and suit.

“Enjoying the night, Princess?”

“Oh!”

You almost jumped in your gown when you see a certain man when you turned around. Your hand was clutched on your chest as you blinked.

“Jungkook.” your feeble voice murmured, still in shock at his sudden appearance.

“It’s nice to see you again, Princess YN.”

And once again, he held your hand and planted a small kiss on the back of it. You wondered if he felt how cold it was or how you froze with–again– the unexpected action. Maybe he can hear how loud your heart beats. Or how many butterflies played around in your stomach the moment you felt his lips on your skin. 

Does he really love doing this to everyone he meets?

You don’t want to think you were being treated specially by him through this action, especially since you got no reply after reaching out to him three months earlier. 

“You know for someone who has been attending massive royal events ever since they were little, you seemed pretty flustered tonight.”

Jungkook tried to break the silence. He was scared by your reaction when he looked at you after kissing your hand. You were just staring at him. But after he said that, you gently took away your hand as you straightened up your posture.

“Well, that’s because Zafiro is different from other places like these,” you replied in a joking manner, but you were just being honest.

Then suddenly, silence found its way between you two. It’s not awkward. Nor suffocating. It’s strangely peaceful. There was still this distant sound of the party away but Jungkook found himself in a staring battle against you. And admittedly, he felt conscious when you ran your eyes from his down to his outfit. Then back on his eyes again.

“Is that real?” you asked.

“Hmm?”

“The piercing on your lip.”

“Oh.” Jungkook touched the silver ring on the corner of his lips. “It is. Wanna touch?”

He said it as a joke and he smiled when he saw you finally smile and giggle.

“Thank you for the offer. But I would have to decline that. It looks great on you and so is your suit.” you told him, making him shyly scratch the back of his neck.

“Thank you, I could say the same thing with you. You’re stunning as always.”

As always. That one was embarked in your mind even though you tried to not think much about it. You cleared your throat,

“What are you doing here anyway, Mister? The party is happening inside.”

He slipped his hands in his pants pockets, “I can ask the same thing of you, Your Highness.”

“I’m just taking one last tour around here before I call for my ride.” 

His eyebrows raised, “You’re leaving already?”

“Uh, yes,” you answered, ignoring the question in your head that said: was he sad I’m leaving already?

“You’re not going to any after-parties? I and Mingyu is actually going to one of those. Maybe I can contact you through–”

But you cut him off before you can fully think, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr. Jeon, considering that you didn’t respond when I reached out to you after we met.”

Lines were automatically between his brows as he heard, “What?! I didn’t receive anything from your communication office in Zafiro.”

“You took that seriously?” you scoffed.

“Of course, I did. I thought you don’t really give your number to anyone outside your family.”

“Well, okay. But I messaged you after we met.” you went on.

“What?!” 

“I DM-ed you.”

“What?”

“With my private account. You immediately read it after I sent it. Wait, let me show you.”

Reaching in your purse, you got your phone. You don’t know why are you even doing this. You tapped on your screen quickly, slightly feeling determined. This seems risky. You went straight to your secret account and opened the one and only message you had there. You showed it to the man in front of you and watched his eyes get bigger as read it.

He was fast to explain himself, “Oh my god, I remembered that one! But I was sick and drowsy in the following days later, maybe that’s why I didn’t respond. I forgot. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

You processed everything in your head. Jungkook stood there, waiting for you to say something when an idea popped into his head.

“How about this?” he began. “Our band will be performing for a night here in New York tomorrow. It’s one of our last performances for our tour.  Are you still here by then?”

“I’ll be flying back to Zafiro tomorrow, before midnight,” you replied almost automatically. Like you were programmed to do so.

“Okay, the concert will be starting at eight. It will probably end by ten. Maybe we can still meet backstage. You know… to hang out.” he pursed his lips by the last sentence.

You squint your eyes at him, “Is this a sorry gift?”

“No, just like what you mentioned in your message,  it’s an invitation. But with a backstage pass.”

Nat eyed you through the moving car’s rearview mirror. You were biting off a smile as you looked down, typing on your phone.

“Any plans to tour around the city tomorrow, Your Highness?”

Your eyes remained glued to your screen as you replied, “Maybe. But free up my last six hours here. I’m going to a concert.”

kindly read my taglist rules before u comment about being added to the list. tysm!

taglist rules

THE PRINCESS AND THE ROCKSTAR TAGLIST

@heartjiminie @rbrm094 @rjsmochii @jjkreblog @sugaslittlekookies @saintsugar @thvlover7 @alpha-mommy69 @natalia-rmnva @coralmusicblaze @stupendouscookiehumanmug @namgoogieee @yoonjinhusbands @borahaeb1ch @lilliankoo @gxtwllsn @taechvita @snkyuv @canyon-lwt @hiii-priestess @jksgirlhere @razzletaffy @bbtsficrecs @jnk-pop @jjeonjjk7 @tokkiggukie @cuntessaiii @annoyingcolorfox @kooliv

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd​ @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12

[existwound]

time for an intro post because all the cool people seem to have them

❊ basics: i’m astra, 25 years old and go by she/they

❊ interests: right now i’m super into vld again (after taking a 6 year break lol), ffvii and ffxv, jjk, anime and video games in general

❊ tags: my art is tagged with #my art and my fics are tagged with #my fic. super creative i know lol. and of course. i yap under #astra talks

if any of y’all want to talk or just. exchange brainrot or deal psychic damage. just send me a message or an ask or whatever!! im super down to talk :’)

❊ my fics in overview under the cut <3

to breathe in this mirage - vld - klance

E | 12k+ | 1/4

time travel au - or: Lance unwillingly takes one for the team and wakes up ten years in the future, married to Keith.

it’s obvious (i had enough) - vld - klance

T | 7.9k | Completed

5+1 - or: 5 times Lance unsuccessfully tries to ask Keith out + 1 time Keith asks Lance out

A Million Miles Between Us - vld - klance

E | 65k+ | Completed

Keith-centric canon divergence – or: after getting injured on a mission, Keith gets demoted to being a cargo pilot. Finding himself stranded on a remote planet with no way out was not how he’d expected it to go

Familiar Ways - jjk - satosugu

E | 35k+ | 4/?

band au – or: it’s been five years since Suguru left their band. Of course, it’s now that they find themselves needing a new drummer once more.

[unlikelyjedi]

Jujutsu Kaisen Pride Headcanons

LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOO!!!!

I have waited SO LONG to talk about my latest hyper-fixation, it's unreal!!!

You don't understand how badly I need to talk about how gay the whole cast of characters in in JJK. And for once on these lists I don't think I'm reading too much into it and in many ways, JJK has intended queer readings to its plot and characters. Akutami Gege bless.

I'll try to cover as many people as I can. I know I won't be able to get to everybody, but I'll try my damndest. If you want to hear about somebody I missed, my asks are always open!!

I don't even want to give a fucking disclaimer this time. This is my personal opinion. Art is Subjective. I'm reading it in a gay way. Honestly if you're mad about that, then maybe don't engage with a fucking pride post. I'M READY TO HAVE FUN!!!!!!

For the last day of Pride Month, LET'S GOOOOO!!!

Itadori Yuuji (he/him): Bisexual

I love he!!! But that's beside the point. His celebrity crush on Jennifer Lawrence always cracks me up. I love it! I also like hearing about his little middle school crush on Yuko!

I also tend to read into the relationship of Yuuji and Junpei as romantic, but that might just be wishful thinking on my part.

But let's not kid ourselves. If you know me, you know I ship Itafushi and man they got it down bad for each other!! Let's just hope that nothing bad happens to my sweet boy ever for all eternity.... haha....

Fushiguro Megumi (he/him): Pansexual

Basically Canon.

Although, tbh upon initial rewatches, I just assumed he was gay. It's only upon further rewatches and fandom stuff that I've come to see him as Pan. Of course, Megumi's quote about him liking a person as long as their compassionate doesn't necessarily read as Pan. It could also be read as Bi, or Demisexual, or Ace, etc. etc. It's okay for there to be multiple interpretations. I just like Pan the most!!

I also like the Trans headcanon for him! Like a lot!!! It just works.

Kugisaki Nobara (she/her): Bisexual

A lot of people see her as a Lesbian, which, yeah I can see why.

But I've always felt that she "swung both ways" if you will. Both in her sexuality, and with a hammer.

Mostly with a hammer, actually.

Zenin Maki (she/her): Bisexual

Originally, I thought of her as a lesbian. But then I was introduced to YuutaMaki and I realized "oh they're really adorable" and now I read her as bi.

I believe in Nobamaki supremacy, though! I love them together. They're probably my favorite non-canon wlw ship!!

Inumaki Toge (he/they): Gay

He's gay. Specifically gay for Yuuta. Babes has got it bad.

Panda (he/him): Ally

A bad one, at that. For not seeing that his best friend was clearly in love with Yuuta and trying to set up Yuuta and Maki instead. Honestly Panda, Toge was sitting there pining, and you just had to twist the knife.

Okkotsu Yuuta (he/him): Bisexual, Asexual

Baby boy. Baby. There are, like, a million people that want to hold this man gently, despite him definitely being able to hold his own in a fight. Definition of looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you.

Likes many genders, but only romantically.

Gojo Satoru (he/him): Gay

Another headcanon that I flipped on. I originally read him as bi, but upon further reading and watching, I think he's just gay. Likes men. Gets easily hurt by the men he likes. Rinse. Repeat.

Nobody can physically touch him, but his One and Only leaves him, and he's in shambles for the next ten years.

Don't even get me started on Nanago, because I won't stop-

Geto Suguru (he/him): Gay

I don't know what else to say about the guy who heard a eugenics theory and ran with it.

He's gay. He tops.

Mmmmm Monkey

(I know there's more to his character than that, but this is not the post to do an in-depth character study)

Nanami Kento (he/him): Bisexual

There's a universe where Nanami gets with that bread girl. I believe it.

I believe Haibara and he were a thing before Haibara... yeah.

I also think he'd find himself in an unlikely bond with Gojo. It's not something he saw coming nor particularly wanted, but love is fickle, isn't it.

Ieri Shoko (she/her): Lesbian

Mean Lesbian. Gay protector to her two idiot best friends. Would die for them, but would probably also throw them to the wolves. Likes Utahime, but doesn't go for it because she thinks Utahime doesn't like her back.

Iori Utahime (she/they): Lesbian, Demisexual

Stressed Lesbian. Very Panic. Also very angry. Has a very obvious crush on Shoko but thinks Shoko hates them (because Gojo told them Shoko hated them).

Also she's trans. I didn't put that in the big description, but she's trans.

Zenin Mai (she/her): Bisexual

She discovered she was bisexual once she got out of her oppressive family. We all agree Todo taking her to that idol was her bisexual awakening, yes?

Todo Aoi (he/him): Ally

The most homosexual heterosexual.

A surprisingly good Ally. Helped Mai discover she was bisexual. Looking out for Itadori and being a wingman (unless it's that boring Fushiguro guy). He attacked Megumi not because he likes guys, but because he was just insufferably boring.

He's great. And also annoying. Good character.

Miwa Kasumi (she/her): Sword Sapphic

Disaster. Absolute disaster. Definitely developed a crush on Maki. Falls for someone hard and fast.

Kamo Noritoshi (he/him): Asexual

I don't think Kamo likes anyone in a sexual way. Maybe in a romantic way, though. To be honest, he's kinda got a lot going on and I don't think he realizes he's any type of Queer.

Yoshino Junpei (he/him) Gay

Another reason to get picked on, I guess. Nobody in his close circle has a problem with it, especially not Junpei himself. It doesn't stop the bullying though. I believe Itadori and Junpei could've been a beautiful couple. Yuuji comes back from the dead with a new bf. Would've been great. heh

Sukuna (depends on the vessel): Queer, Genderqueer

I highly doubt Sukuna would care about gender. Despite being born a man, he's a curse. I don't think gender really matters for curses. And along with Sukuna wearing more feminine clothing, it's pretty canon. If Sukuna was inhabiting a girl, she'd use she/her pronouns. Same with a non-binary person, etc. I also highly doubt he's got a gender preference either. It wouldn't matter.

Mahito (any/all): Genderqueer

Same as above. He's a curse. Do you think they really care that much about gender?? She's supposed to represent human fears. Mahito also has a moment of gender non-conformity in the Juju-Stroll, so there's precedent.

Kenjaku (depends on the body): Genderqueer

Same as above. Again. Kenjaku is a curse and takes on the gender of the host he's possessing. This is not rocket science. It's built into the story! I love it!

Choso (he/him): Queer

Choso is GNC as many of the characters in this show are, but I do believe he, too is not straight. He's a curse. Sort of. And a good brother. And I think he'd know he's not straight. And would help out his brother with his love life. Whether Itadori wants it or not.

Really quick I wanted to Mention both Uraume and Hoshi Kirara who both have undefined pronouns and look more androgynous and feminine respectively. I can tepidly say they're both genderqueer, though there is debate on that. I'm hopeful that they both will be canonically queer though!!!

My God! I spent SO LONG on this!!! But I had fun!!! It wan good to do something myself for Pride Month when before I'd only been able to look on with longing as other people did fun stuff for pride! Now I get to put my silly little posts out into the world for a small handful of people to see and it's really fun!

I hope you've had a good month. Let's continue to be proud in the coming months. Especially when it's hard. Even if your version of pride is simply reblogging cute art and making headcanons for silly little characters!

I love you all!!!

[themfchase]

raven unit v (m) jjk

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

‒ raven unit. (m) chapter five: safe house. ✎  [8k words]

genre: political!Au, taskforce!Au, warcrime!Au

warnings: smut, angst, gore, violence, drug mentions, alcohol mention, graphic description of violence, death, oral (male receiving, sorry not that much smut in this chapter) With your life at risk and several people around you dead, your loyal head of security makes sure your safety is taken care of when he’s out of the picture. Three ruthless, dangerous and deadly men take on the task to protect and hide you, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok and the one in command, Jeon Jungkook. masterlist. chapter one. chapter two chapter three. .raven unit: drabble #01 drabble #02 n/a: After a long hiatus due to work, I’m here to finally post the fifth chapter of Raven Unit. The next chapter will be the final chapter of this series and I can only say for now, it’s been a ride. I really hope you enjoy it. It’s shorter than the others and highly unedited, but I just wanted to post as soon as I could. Please, send me messaged, anything, your support and love for this series has been what motives me to keep going and I’ll never take that for granted. Thank you so much. <3 Now onto the chapter. 

You had spotted Jimin and Jin a couple of times as you and Namjoon were quietly still in your corner, watching as the partygoers spoke to each other avidly. The discrete radio in your ear was also dead silent, only to be used in case something changed. The tension had eased a little as you drank a single glass of wine. Maybe you should have eaten more before leaving.  Namjoon remained quiet as he observed the party, eyes now giving away his soldier ways as they sharpened to any sudden movement close to you, and you were thankful for the silence.  Looking around your eyes searched for Jungkook, you hadn’t spotted him after he had threatened Namjoon, you’d feel a lot calmer if you could just see him, keep your eyes on him. Make sure he was safe.  A gasp left you when you felt a warm palm against your own, head turning to look at Namjoon that offered you a comforting smile.  “Loosen up, nothing is going to happen, all you need to do is to be yourself.” He smiled, and you frowned. Be yourself is the last thing you needed to do. “Well, you get the point.” Your lips parted to give him a witty answer when you were interrupted by the sound of a voice.  “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to The Elizebeth Gala.” Your gaze moved to the tall man sporting a fine tailored suit, he had a glass of champagne in his hand and he looked oddly familiar. “I’m pleased to see everyone has adhered to our masquerade theme this year.” He continued, he was young, perhaps a little older than Jin, but still oddly familiar. “I hope you all enjoy the event, dance, enjoy the food and the music, it’s a pleasure to receive you all.” He makes a quick toast, eyes moving in your direction, and for a moment you’re nervous. Once everyone goes back to their conversation, the man is slowly making his way towards you, your eyes slightly building behind the mask and your hand automatically wraps around Namjoon’s arm.  “Mr. Kim, fancy seeing you here.” He stops in front of you both, gaze moving towards Namjoon. “Mr. Wang, I’d say the same, wouldn’t expect you to be out so soon.” Namjoon retorted politely. Your brows furrowed. They knew each other. The handsome man scoffed, eyes rolling as he downed his champagne and placed on a passing tray.  “Well, they can’t keep me locked forever, I have good lawyers.” He placed his hands in his pockets, shrugging. “I guess I owe you one.”  Namjoon chuckled, a melodic laugh that was too unfair to be true.  “Don’t get caught next time or I’m keeping them.” You didn’t understand what they were talking about, your gaze moving from one to the other as they had the cryptic conversation.  “And who might this beautiful lady be?” The man’s gaze shifted to you, eyes boring down your figure, but not in a nasty way.  Namjoon’s lips parted to answer, but you quickly extended your hand.  “Raven, it’s a pleasure.” You smiled at him, finding newfound confidence within you.  The man lifted a brow, taking your hand, but to your surprise he lifted the back of your palm to his lips, placing a kiss to it.  “Enchantée.” He - cheesily added.  “So, Mr. Wang, how do you and Namjoon know each other?” You wrapped your arm back around Namjoon’s arm once again, the man stifling beside you.  “Please, call me Jackson.” The man winked. Too many cliches for one man, but suddenly the name rang clearer in your head. Jackson Wang. You had a faint memory of seeing the news and his name popping up when they announced they had one of FBI’s most wanted under custody “Oh, Namjoon, and I go way back. He’s safe kept some of my... Art a few times when I was... Unavailable.” It all came back to you now, one of the most infamous con artist of all time. Had made million-dollar heists. Art. Banks. Politicians. “But of course, my collection isn’t by far as vast and luxurious as Namjoons, I’m sure you’ve seen it.” His gaze shifted to the man beside you, Namjoon stood silent, looking straight at the other man.  “Oh, I’ve seen it.” You faked a wide grin. “Was quite taken back by the Caravaggio first time I saw it, matter of fact, I think I heard somewhere that It had been stolen a few years back...” You furrowed your brows, bringing one finger up to your lower lip inquisitorially. “Isn’t that right, Joonie?” You tilted your head to look at him.  Namjoon has his tongue poking on the inner side of his cheek, annoyed.  “Oh, the Caravaggio, if he doesn’t take good care of it, I might just sneak in someday and take if for myself.” Jackson continued, but Namjoons brows raised.  “Oh, you can definitely try. But my security is better than the Louvre, my friend, where I borrowed it from, and plus, I don’t mind killing intruders.” Namjoon smiled widely, bringing the glass in his hand to his lips.  “Are you at least going to finally tell me how you breached that?” Jackson lifted a brow.  “Nope,” Namjoon answered, emphasizing the ‘p’ as he took yet another sip from his drink.  “Well, in that case, I think it’s time for me to return to the party.” He chuckled, looking your way. “Raven, it was a pleasure meeting such a stunning woman.” He gave you a slight bow and made his way back to the crowd.  You and Namjoon were quiet for a while, not a word exchanged, but you couldn’t help it, you started shaking your head, dumbfounded by the information you just got.  “A fucking con artist.” You blurted out.  Namjoon quickly pulled to further back onto the boat.  “Keep it fucking down, people can hear you.” He whispered, quickly looking around and bringing one hand up to fix his hair.  You turned in his direction, crossing your arms.  “So is everything about you a pissing contest?” You questioned, and he rolled his eyes, finally a semblance of a non-poised man.  “I just enjoy art.” Was his answer.  “You can just go to a museum and enjoy it there, in case you’re unaware.” You retorted.  “I didn’t steal it, I borrowed it. Besides, the Art Mafia is very real and I assure you more people are safe with some of them in my hands than they are in museums.” Namjoon shrugged.  “I knew there was something fishy about you.” You chuckled, the alcohol making you a little more loose than you’d be.  “Doesn’t my sketchy persona make me even slightly more attractive?” The corner of his lip lifted in a smirk. And you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t attractive as fuck. But the real thing ringing in your head was... Was Namjoon flirting with you? You took in a deep breath. He knew what he did to you, they all knew.  “Maybe, or maybe it just makes you seem lame.” You teased, a tipsy chuckle leaving you.  “Oh, Raven, I can assure you, I’m far from lame.” That sobered you up. He was certainly flirting with you. But unknown to you, someone was listening in, and that someone walked away right before what you said next.  “Don’t start getting ideas, now, Joonie, I’m a taken girl.” You brushed off his flirting.  “Nah, you’re not my type anyway, I just enjoy the chase.” You suddenly felt comfortable around him for the first time, as if a wall had fallen between you both. And you both talked about art and other things you had in common for the next hour. You had even forgotten what your situation was for a moment before something rang in yours and Namjoon’s ear.  “Suspicious movement on level three, keep your eyes open.” It was Hobi, your nerves suddenly spiked, and you were on high alert.  “Hoseok, what’s up?”  You heard Jungkook's question over the com.  There was a beat of silence before he answered.  “Found two bodies in the laundry carts, I think we have company.” That was more than just suspicious movement. That meant they had found you. What didn’t make sense, though, was how? You quickly eyed Namjoon, he only nodded, it was time to move.  Making your way through the crowd, he guided you by the hand, your eyes quickly moving to the waiters, Yoongi, Taehyung they were all looking, one hand hovering perfectly over where their guns would be. And then you saw another face, one you didn’t know, a menacing one, wearing a disheveled waiter’s uniform, a small bloodstain on the corner of the shirt.  Your eyes bulging as the man walked slowly through the crowd, eyes all the faces, looking for you. He slowly made his way towards you and Namjoon, still not looking at you, and you quickly spotted Jungkook, he had spotted the man as well, but he wouldn’t be able to make his way to you in time, the boat was almost over the border. You were almost there, just a few more minutes.  As the man made his way towards you, it was as if things moved in slow motion, Jungkook reaching for his gun, the slow movement of the man’s eyes moving in your direction. You had to make a decision, and you quickly pulled Namjoon back, turning your back to the man and slamming your lips onto Namjoons.  He stiffed in place as your lips met his, but quickly cupped your small face with his large hands, almost covering most of it as he kissed you back. You kept your eyes open, gaze moving as the man went right past you, not even stopping to look at the kissing couple.  As soon as he was out of sight, you pulled away, quickly turning your head to meet a frozen Jungkook. His eyes glued to you then his gaze moving to Namjoon. He shifted as fast as you could think, gaze darkening, featured hardening, and he took one step.  “Jungkook, not here.“ You heard Jin speak over the com and he stopped, but you could almost see the anger bubbling in his features before he took in a deep breath.  “We’re moving.“ He spoke over the com and you followed him with your eyes. Hands quickly lifting to your lips.  “You can worry about that later, Raven, we have to move.” It was Namjoon who bought you out of your screaming thoughts, pulling you in the crowd and walking to the Jackson, that spoke avidly about something with someone.  “It’s time to repay your debt.” Namjoon interrupted the conversation, making Jackson just glare at the person he was talking to, the same walking away.  “Hit me.” He spoke with amusement.  “I need to get off this boat effective immediately, has to fit at least eight people.” He looked around as he spoke, making sure the second possible attacker wasn’t close.  “I have a motorboat in the back of the boat, should fit everyone.” Jackson didn’t even question. “Follow me.”  You were moving the moment Jackson took a step, skipping as you tried to follow their quick steps.  “Back of the boat,” Namjoon spoke over the com.  As you made your way through the large waste boat, one by one the boy’s appeared behind you, your head turning to spot them, and Jungkook in the back with dark eyes, not even looking in your direction. Once you were finally at the back of the boat it was dark, the boys quickly going past you as Namjoon stopped in front of Jackson, the man putting his hands in his pockets.  “We’re crossing the border as we speak. A couple more minutes and you shouldn’t have any trouble,” Jackson informed.  “You have two armed men on the boat, they’re dangerous, keep your eyes open.” Said Namjoon.  “Oh, I already had seven armed men to worry about. Two more shouldn’t be a problem.” He shrugged. “Besides, I could tell the story of how I helped get the president’s daughter to safety at parties in the future.” You furrowed your brows once his gaze met yours.  “Oh, you didn’t think I wouldn’t notice, did you? I can spot fine art from a distance, sweetheart.” Your mouth opened, but you closed it, not really knowing what to say.  “Time to go,” Jimin said, you turned your head and noticed the motorboat was already on the water. “ Namjoon thanked Jackson and pulled you along with him. He helped you onto the motorboat, and soon enough, you were on your way, watching the big boat disappear as water splashed lightly around you from the speed you were going.  The boat was silent, everyone quiet and looking ahead, even Namjoon as the only light source was the moon shining above you.  You sat at the far back of the boat, watching them with their backs to you, Jungkook stirring, sailing. You had a dreading feeling that you had messed up. A dreading feeling that it would be hard to overcome this, but you just hugged your arms as the harsh wind blew your hair, messing it up.  The party was over.  It was back to reality now.  It must have taken an hour for you to finally reach the docks. Not one word spoken once the boat was anchored at the dark, empty docks. You had made it, one step closer to being safe, one step closer.  You almost lost your step once your feet met the rotting wood from the dock, Yoongi quickly gripping on your arm, making sure you wouldn’t fall before he was walking beside you, following the others. Your eyes were trained on Jungkook’s back. It was unusual of him to leave your side when you were out in the open like this, and it made you want to curl into yourself.  You all walked until you stopped in front of three cars, Hobi and Jimin quickly moving to uncover them as Namjoon threw a black backpack over the hood and began to undress. You turned around, looking at Jungkook as he too began to undress.  “Jungkook.” He didn’t look at you, didn’t even react. You sighed. “Jungkook.” You tried again. He continued to undress. Back to you.  Losing your patience you closed the gap between you both, gripping at his arm and he quickly pulled it away from you.  “What?” He questioned sharply. You furrowed your brows, a scoff leaving you.  “You can’t be serious. Jungkook, I had to do it.” You started to argue with him, but he remained quiet. You could feel the other men quickly glance up as they all changed. “Jungkook, fucking talk to me.” You insisted once he finally finished putting his gun in his holster.  “Fine, you wanna talk?” He turned to face you. “Let’s fucking talk, Raven.” He quickly gripped at your arm and pulled you into the back of one of the cars, throwing another backpack beside you before he shut the door.  “I’ll drive with her, you guys go along, I want Jin in front of me, Hobi behind me.” He commanded before getting in the driver’s seat and starting the car. “Get dressed.” He commanded to you before he started driving.  You huffed, almost like a teenager, but obeyed, quickly changing into the clothes inside the bag, the same black cargo pants, and the plain shirt. You took off your heels and put on the heavy boots, undoing your hair, taking off your jewelry, and stuffing it all inside the bag before you crawled into the front seat, sitting beside him.  “Put your seat belt on.” He once again commanded coldly. You did so then crossed your arms and it was quiet. The road was dark, it was mostly dirty all around, you could see Jin’s car in front of you and Hobi behind you through the review mirror.  “Talk.” He said.  “I’m not speaking to you while you’re acting like an asshole.” You shook your head.  “Oh, stop being a fucking spoiled brat.” He spat, not looking in your direction.  “I fucking kissed him, so fucking what, Jungkook, there was a man ready to fucking kill me coming in my direction I needed to think fast.” You argued.  “Ah, I see, think fast, so the flirting before that had nothing to do with you suddenly deciding to fucking kiss not only my soldier but my fucking best friend, one I have fucking history with?” He condescendingly asked.  “Of course not! What the fuck do you think I am? I’m in a life-death situation and you think the first thing that comes into my head is to make out with your fucking flirty friend, fuck you!” You lose your patience.  He’s quiet for a few seconds, then he shakes his head.  “So you admit you two were flirting?” You rolled your eyes, both hands coming up to rub at your face in frustration.  “Yes, we fucking flirted, Jungkook. But not only was it playful, but I also told him to not get ideas because I was taken.” You looked away, out the window to the pitch dark desert. “I’m not fucking Irina, I’m not going to sleep with all your friends, I just want you.” And if you hadn’t seen his expression on the reflection of the window, perhaps you wouldn’t have regretted saying those words. You quickly turned to look at him, his brows deeply furrowed, a look of grief in them as he went quiet.  “I’m sorry.” Your voice was quiet. “I’m sorry you lost someone you loved, someone you let go of.” You reached a hand towards him, placing it gently on his cheek. “But I’m not her, Jungkook... I playfully flirty with your friends, but... I don’t want any of them, and they don’t want me.”  “That’s easy for you to say, I can see the way they look at you.” His voice came out contained. “No... They don’t want me. I know they don’t... They respect you and they respect me. It’s just banter... You don’t have to give me up for anyone.” You leaned forward, the seatbelt making it hard for you to reach him fully, but you placed your lips on his cheek, and his eyes fluttered.  “I wouldn’t...” He spoke softly, stance relaxing. “I wouldn’t give you up... Not you.” He quickly glanced at you, before looking back at the road.  “I’m sorry I kissed Namjoon, but it really was a way to hide my face in an unsuspicious manner.” You apologized, thumb grazing softly at his cheek.  “Motherfucker, now I’m going to have to find a way to deep clean your mouth.” He chuckled. “Did he slip in tongue? I swear to god, I’ll use bleach.” He shook his head, and it was your turn to laugh.  “Mmm, maybe a little.” You teased, and he squinted, looking in your direction. “But I know a better way to cleans my mouth from him.” You tilted your head, one hand moving to unclasp your seat belt. Jungkook quickly furrowed his brows.  “What are you doing?” He questioned, putting his eyes back on the road.  “Cleansing my mouth, commander.” You reached down, hand pressing into his clothed middle, and his lips parted.  “Y/N, we’re in the middle of a mission.” He warned you.  “Nothing is going to happen.” You comforted him as you felt his cock hardening under your palm.  “What if something does happen, am I supposed to just start a shootout with my boner hanging out?” He quickly glanced at you.  “Jungkook, shut up and let me suck your cock.” You started to undo his pants. He didn’t argue. Smoothly, you pulled out his hard erection from his pants, eyes shining once his hard engorged head met your eyes, licking your lips as you started to slowly pump him. His gaze fell to the motion of your hand moving up and down slowly on his length.  “Eyes on the road, commander, I know for a fact you’re good at multitasking.” You leaned down, mouth engulfing his tip and sucking on it gently.  “Fuck.” He whispered out, you could hear the light thump of his head against the seat. The curse gave you more motivation, sinking further onto his length, tongue lapping as you took in as much as you could before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting you to his cock. You pumped him a few more times, noticing his grip tight around the steering wheel, and you looked up at him. Fuck, he was hot. Lidded eyes, slightly swollen lower lip. He must have been biting on it. You decide you want this to be the best head he’s ever had, so you sink back down onto his length, further down until you could feel him in the back of your throat, unable to breathe. Your throat closed around him and he dragged out groan sent a shiver down your spine and straight to your core. Bobbing your head, you repeated the motion a few times, taking him in deep and stilling, hearing him pant just above you. Little grunts and groans leaving him as you did your best to bring him closer to his edge.  Your mouth pooled with drool, jerking off what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, and eventually, you felt a hand rest on the back of your head, fingers threading into your locks before he was gripping. You allowed him to control your motions, understanding that he was a man of control, and he pulled at your head and pushed, setting a pace that made his sounds louder, breathless.  “Fuck, just like that, baby.” He cursed out, and you whined, you wanted to see him. Wanted to see the look of pleasure on his face. His eyes shifting from your head to the road, sharp attention allowing him to drive and edge at the same time.  It wasn’t until you felt yourself choke around his cock at one hard press of your head down that he hissed, croaked out, voice breaking when he spoke.  “I’m gonna fucking cum.” He almost whined out.  And you went faster, bopping your head, drool sticky hands playing with his cock and his groans become more frequent, louder. His grip on your hair tightened until it was painful and he was twitching and spilling into your mouth. Hot spurs of cum coating your tongue and throat as he ground upwards to rise his high.  Like a good girl, you helped him until nothing more came out, swallowing every last bit of his release before you pulled away, sitting up again. He panted, hand moving to the steering wheel again, and you helped tuck him back into his pants before he looked at you.  There was the dangerous, hungry gaze that sent jolts of arousal down your body. You truly felt like he hadn’t shown you just how much he would devour you. And you were eager to find out.  “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He whispered out, hand moving to clean the drool from the corner of your swollen lips and bringing it to his own, sucking the thumb into his mouth.  It was amazing how something as simple as that made you blush, calling you beautiful. It made you forget everything, just like at the party, it made you forget you were being hunted down, chased, that you had witnessed, almost felt death multiple times. Right here, with his warm body just beside yours... You felt like you were already saved.  A few hours went by. It didn’t nearly seem like it while you both talked about things you hadn’t had the opportunity to talk about before. Trivial things, really, but in a setting like yours, it was more than welcomed. You had found out Jungkook was obsessed with games. Mostly shooting games, of course, the soldier would be obsessed with shooting games. He defended himself by saying it had improved his strategy views and you laughed at him. His laugh, though, was truly mesmerizing, when he was free, full-body laughter that made your heart feel like it could stop beating at any second. That boyish smile of his when he made fun of your disastrous prom date. It almost felt perfect, if your mind didn’t suddenly sabotage you with the heavyweight of your duty to the world. Jungkook noticed the shift in your demeanor but decided to let you process that on your own, offering his support by placing his hand on your knee. You took it, interlocking your fingers. Soon enough you were going uphill on a rocky road, the car bouncing, and he took his hand away to have a better grip at the steering wheel.  The safe house was atop a hill surrounded by a deep, large forest. The house looked old but large. It was made out of heavy wood, and you could tell it was well taken care of. As soon as the cars pulled up into the large vast driveway, you could see the sky turn a light blue color, indicating the sun was rising, and you didn’t even notice how tired you were before you saw the change. Everyone parked, and Jungkook turned his head in your direction, a deep sigh leaving him. It was as if he could finally relax.  “Welcome to the Safe house, Raven.” His voice came out raspy, and you offered him a soft smile, reaching out for his hand and taking it. There was a silent conversation going on between you both. Everything you both had gone through to ensure your safety, how close to death you had been, how in the middle of this all you still found a way to find love, even if it was all still so fresh. A knock to your window brought you both back to reality, finally exiting the car. Jungkook walked to you, taking your hand as you both met up with the other men.  Namjoon kept his eyes cast down, hands in his pockets. It was different seeing him in anything other than a suit, but you couldn’t deny that it also fitted him perfectly.  “So... Uh...” He began, Jungkook lifting a brow in amusement. “You’re not mad about the kiss, right?” He finally lifted his gaze to his commander.  Jungkook chuckled.  “Nah, it’s fine. She did what she had to do.” Jungkook nodded. “Besides, you’re free to kiss right now if you want, I wouldn’t mind at all,” Jungkook said, and you looked at him, brows furrowing. He only shrugged. You squinted your eyes.  “She sucked your dick in the car, didn’t she?” Yoongi was the one to ask, Jungkook only smirked.  “Yeah, definitely gave him head in the car,” Hobi added in.  “What the fuck?” You cursed out. “Do you guys really need to talk about me giving Jungkook head or not in the car right now?” You felt your face burn hot. Why were they like this?  “It’s not a discussion, you did give him head in the car, I could see your head moving.” Jimin fixed the straps of his backpack.  “Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes.  “Not the first time Namjoon would get dick breath, though.” It was Taehyung’s turn. Everyone looked at him, silent. “What, too soon?”  You all fell into laughter, it felt like it was finally over, deciding to participate in the fun, you pouted your lips.  “Joonie, give me a kiss.” You playfully said.  “You all are children.” Namjoon crossed his arms.  “Let’s settle in, I’m fucking starving.” Jin finally spoke, taking the first step towards the house.  The inside was dark, yet cozy, it had a big fireplace with a large couch and a few armchairs, Jungkook was quick to walk into a room. You only watched everyone move around as if they were familiar with the house. Taehyung and Jimin quickly starting a fire while Namjoon looked through the cabinets for some coffee, Jin and Hobi sat down on the couch and groaned. Everyone was tired.  You looked around for Yoongi, only noticing him walking back from the same room Jungkook was in and joining the other two on the couch.  “Jungkook put up the motion sensors, it’s safe sailing now.” He slumped on the couch and relaxed. Jungkook finally made his way back, watching you, still frozen in place, looking around. “Love what you did with the place, by the way,” Namjoon commented from the wide-open kitchen on the opposite of the living room. You looked at Jungkook.  “So, this is your safe house?” You questioned him, watching him place his hands in his pockets and make his way to you.   “This is my house.” He admitted. “Your original safe house was meant to be somewhere else, I changed things up last minute.” He said looking at the boys and back at you.  You both were quiet for a while, a shy smile playing on your face.  “So, are you going to show me around, commander?” You looked down, reaching out your hand to tug on his shirt.  He sighed, leaning closer to you.  “You really have to stop calling me commander if you don’t want me to fuck you in front of everyone.” He teased, voice raspy.  “There are literally nine rooms in the house. Get one.” Yoongi shouted from the couch.  You chuckled, Jungkook mimicking you.  Jungkook showed you around the house, Yoongi wasn’t lying there were nine rooms, eight bedrooms, and one control room. You saw monitors that showed cameras that spread all over the forest area, they were all motion-triggered and on the wall, Jungkook had a waste collection of guns. You noticed there were no pictures on the wall. If this was his house, you’d think he at least would have pictures of his friends, but to your surprise there was nothing.  He showed you his room. It was simple, a bed, bedside table, no television. It felt... Lonely. But this was after all his home.  “Do you want to rest, Namjoon made some coffee, we’re taking turns keeping watch for the first week.” He leaned against the frame of his bedroom door, crossing his arms like he always did, muscles bulging out, making you really tempted to “rest” with him for the next hours. But for some reason, you were no longer tired, you just wanted to sit down with them, spend some time with everyone.  “No, it’s fine, I just want to relax a little.” He nodded and took your hand, walking back to the living room.  You all sat down in front of the newly lit fire, everyone with coffee mugs in their hands and quiet, all of them contemplating that we had made it. Finally made it.  The responsibility of what you had to do next weighed on your shoulders. But you just looked at their faces, faces of the men that risked their lives for you, that someone took you in, someone that came from a completely different world than them.  “I found out what Namjoon does for a living.” You said, breaking the silence as you brought your own mug of coffee to your lips.  The conversation spurred on after that, Namjoon telling everyone about how and why he got into being a con artist. Everyone pays attention, Yoongi makes fun of him for it and everyone joins in on the laughter. And soon enough the conversation becomes more serious.  “So, Y/N... Do you know what you’re going to say?” Hobi is the one that asks, you’re head is resting on Jungkook’s shoulder and he has an arm around your waist, playing with the material of your shirt. You think about it for a few seconds.  “I guess I’m just going to tell the truth.” You begin. “If people want to believe me or not, that’s up to them, but I’m going to do my part and it’s probably going to open up an investigation.” You took in a deep breath.  “And after that?” Jin was the one that asked. You moved your gaze to him, remembering the conversation you both had at Seamore. After everything was over, what would you do?  “I... I don’t know. I guess it all depends on the outcome. I’ll go back and continue my duty in my father’s place for as long as the people need me, but... Once that’s over, I think I’m done.” You look down at your fingers, contemplating going back to your “normal” life, leaving these men behind.  “I think you’re really brave,” Taehyung spoke. “You went through hell, held yourself pretty well despite losing everyone you trusted, your family, you could just disappear, be presumed dead. But you’re choosing to set the record straight. To fulfill your duties.” Jungkook sighed beside you, you wondered if he also was thinking of the aftermath of it all.  You nodded, a soft appreciative smile tugging on your lips.  “I know this might sound cliche, but... I lost my family, and I feel like life gave me a new one. You know? Like... Six brothers.” You spoke softly.  “Count me out, I’ve thought about fucking you before.” Yoongi chimed in.  “Yeah, me too, sorry...” It was Taehyung’s turn.  “Well, you did kiss me, so...” Namjoon added.  “If one more person speaks up, I’m bringing out my knives,” Jungkook warned.  The boys chuckled, and you pursed your lips, chuckling right after.  “What about you guys, though? What now?” You asked, wrapping an arm around Jungkook’s middle, looking at them.  “Well, I’m going to need to head back to Red Hawk sooner or later.” Jimin sighed out. “Get back to work.”  “Yeah, Gallaticus has been unattended for a while, I might have to go back too,” Taehyung said.  “I can stay for a while after the first week, but I have a job coming up that I need to strategize, so, not for long,“ Namjoon said while resting his head on his hand.  “Same for me, my men need to come back,” Jin spoke out.  You looked at Yoongi and Hoseok, waiting for their answers, but all they did was look at their commander, they were with him till the very end. Jungkook sighed, letting his head rest back on the couch.  “I guess... We go back to our lives.” He finally spoke. You could tell there was a lot going through his head. Doubts, worries. “But you’re free to stay for as long as you like.” His gaze moved to you. You leaned up, pressing your lips to his softly, his eyes fluttering closed as you kissed him tenderly. It wasn’t an answer, but it was an appreciation.  After another hour, everyone started to retreat into their bedrooms, Jin and Jimin taking the first watch. You knew you were safe here, but Jungkook wanted to be sure, so for the first week, they’d take turns. Jungkook pulled you into his bedroom, he was tired, you could see it on his face. He was in his home, he could finally relax, you were safe.  Once you both changed, you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his middle, resting your head on his back, and taking in a deep breath. He turned in your hold, wrapping his large arms around your tiny frame and walking backward until the back of his legs hit the mattress. He didn’t even mind falling down onto it with you in his arms, he soaked in it. In the feeling of you.  “Thank you.” You whispered out, nuzzling into his neck as if your life depended on it. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You repeated it like a mantra, feeling your throat burn, your eyes burn.  He soothed you, caressing his hand up and down your back, pulling you flush against him.  “You don’t need to thank me. I was just doing my job.” He whispered, pressing his lips to your temple.  “I love you.” You let out in a broken voice, feeling the weight of the world almost lift off your shoulders.  “I love you, little dove.” He searched for your lips, pressing soft, tender kisses to your lips over and over. And then you both stayed like that, in each other’s arms, until you were both asleep.  A routine settled during the first week. Jin and Jimin would take watch during the night and sleep during the day, Taehyung and Namjoon took the day shift. Yoongi, Hobi, and Jungkook decided to continue your training while you were there to keep up not only your strength but their own. It was almost domestic, waking up with Jungkook every morning, soft kisses and morning voices, morning sex - a lot of morning sex - and getting to watch them act more freely with each other. It truly felt like a family. Your new family. Namjoon left once the first week was over. You gave him a long hug, hard and thanked him for everything. He said you were always welcome to come visit him and talk art once everything was over. The second to leave was Jin, not before cooking the most delicious breakfast you ever had and hugging you as tight as he could. You almost cried once he left, but held your tears when he said that you knew what to do now, that he was proud of how far you had come.  Once the second week rolled around Taehyung and Jimin decided it was time for them to leave.  They were both by the door with their backpacks, a lingering sadness on their faces after spending so much time with you.  “I’m going to miss you.” Taehyung hugged you tight. This time you couldn’t help the tears hiding your face into his neck. You didn’t want him to go, you didn’t know when you would see him again. Hugging Jimin, you dried your tears and watched the men say their goodbyes to each other with long lingering hugs and a lot of shared thank you’s.  Once they took off you leaned against the door frame with the three remaining men. The three men that had been with you from the start.  “Hey, Yoongi, and I are going to collect some wood, want to come with us?” Jungkook took you out of your thoughts as you still looked at the empty road ahead of you, where Taehyung and Jimin had left.  “No, I’m fine, I think I’m going to rest for a while.” You said.  “Yeah, I could use a nap,” Hobi added.  “You two get some rest, we’ll be back soon.” Jungkook smiled, leaning in to peck your lips.  Once they’re gone, you sit on the couch, going through all your memories with the men that had left, deciding to lay down you feel something hard underneath you. It was Jungkook’s black notebook. You look at it for a while pursing your lips, your eyes moving to the front door before deciding to take a look.  You weren’t expecting what you saw.  They were sketches.  Some were of people you didn’t know, but you could make out the boys, Yoongi laughing, Hoseok sleeping. Namjoon seated on a rock, Jin with his arms wide open. Jimin doing pushups. Taehyung’s boxy smile. These were all sketches of Jungkook’s family. You flipped through the pages until once sketch caught your eyes. It was you, sleeping against a car window, your pants pulled down your legs. The second was of you smiling in the dessert, a fire in front of you. You flipped through the pages of more and more sketches of you in situations you remembered. Some of only the boys, some of you with them. Your face kept showing up again and again, and you realized why Jungkook didn’t have any pictures around his house.  Because he registered his favorite memories. You found yourself bringing your hands to your lips, more tears filling your eyes.  A knock to the door breaks the moment, your brows furrowing. Jungkook and Yoongi wouldn’t knock, perhaps it was Jimin and Taehyung back because they forgot something. You quickly made your way to the door, opening it without hesitation and a smile on your face, the smile, though, quickly disappeared when you were met with a familiar face you hadn’t seen since the day you met Jungkook.  “Phillip.” You breathed out, surprised by the sudden visit.  “Miss Y/L/N.” He smiled at you. “I’m so happy to see you well.”  You were speechless for a while, still standing at the door.  “Yes... I’m safe.” You said.  “I knew I had chosen the right team to take care of you.” He smiled wider. “Is Jungkook here, I wanted a word with him regarding the mission.” He looked past you, through the door.  “Oh... No, Yoongi and him went to get some wood, but they should be back soon, please, come in.” You made way for him to enter the house.  You shut the door and guided him towards the living room. He sat in one of the armchairs, smiling at you and you sat right across him.  “I can see you guys encountered some trouble.” He said, pointing at the scar on your shoulder, your fingers quickly lifted, tracing the outline of it as the memory came rushing back to you.  “Yes, we had some trouble, but... We pulled through in the end.” You said.  “And have you already decided what to do?” He asked, and you furrowed your brows. “Regarding Jefferson John, I mean, have you decided how you’re going to expose him?” He rested his hands on his lap, the same soft smile on his lips.  “Well, I recorded a video on my first week here... I just haven’t decided what to do...” You started. “Wait... How do you know about Jefferson John?” You questioned, you remembered clearly that you hadn’t told anyone other than the boys about your suspicion. “How do you...?” Suddenly you felt highly suspicious about Phillip showing up, you also remembered Jungkook telling you coming to his house was a last-minute call, how did Phillip know? You didn’t think Jungkook would have told anyone out of the circle.  You suddenly stood up. Backing away from the man, your back hitting the kitchen counter.  He didn’t say anything, instead, he stood and took two steps.  “You have to understand miss Y/L/N, the world is cruel, I’m just doing my job.” He said in a calm voice as if the meaning of those words didn’t indicate that he was going to kill you.  “W-why get a team to protect me, w-why go through all that trouble?” You spat at him, rage fueling in your veins.  “Oh, I had to make sure no one else got the hit, of course.” He said simply.  You blindly patted under the kitchen counter behind you, looking for the gun you knew Jungkook had hidden.  “I selected my best team to make sure an asset as valuable as you were protected, you must understand.” He reached for something on his hip and you heard the click of a gun behind him.  “Hobi!” Your eyes bulged once you saw the man with a gun pointed to Phillip.  “Ah, Hoseok, fancy seeing you here. I guess I miscalculated.” Phillip didn’t even look at him, only pursed his lips, putting his hand back down.  “Phillip, I really don’t want to shoot you,” Hoseok said between clenched teeth.  “That’s why you’re not in charge.” He said before you heard a loud shot come through the window, shattering the glass and hitting Hoseok right on the side of his body.  Your eyes bulged, a loud ripping scream of his name coming from you as you watched him fall unconscious on the floor.  Phillip took out his gun, pointing it at you.  “Stay where you are.” He said, walking backward and kicking Hoseok’s gun further away from his hand. Tears streamed down your eyes as they were glued to your friend’s form, blood soaking through his shirt.  “Now, where were we.” He looked back at you right before you heard gunshots in front of the house. Jungkook was back, you took the moment of Philips distraction to launch yourself forward onto him, hands gripping at his wrist where he held the gun, using your elbow to hit at his jaw and try to disarm him, but he was well trained and you, well, you were barely trained.  It happened fast, Jungkook barging into the house, pointing his gun at the man and you, back flush against Phillip, his arm around your throat and a gun muzzle pressed to the side of your head.  “Let her go.” Jungkook sounded dangerous. He sounded possessed. Sweat dripping down his face and a look of pure rage in his eyes.  “I thought you were smarter than this,” Phillip said, a disappointed tone to his voice.  “I said, let her fucking go, Phillip.” He growled out.  “What are you going to do, shoot me?” He questioned, raising a brow. “You work for me, put your gun down.” He scoffed at Jungkook.  But Jungkook remained in position, ready to shoot.  “Stupid boy.” Was all Phillip said. “Bring him in.” He shouted and from the door came Yoongi at gunpoint, a man in all black with a black mask pressing his gun to the back of his head.  Jungkook’s eyes bulged, looking from you to Yoongi. And right there you understood his internal battle.  “Put the gun down, Jungkook, you’re outnumbered. If you don’t your friend dies.” Phillip grinned.  “Jungkook, don’t put the gun down.” Yoongi warned and hissed when the armed man pressed the gun harder onto his head, spitting out a “shut up”.  He looked at you, ultimate dread in his eyes. And right there you understood what he had said in the desert. When you’re in this line of work, people you love can be used as leverage. Your head went back to the memories you both had shared, to his black notebook. You were happy, he had made you happy, you could see it in his eyes, filling with tears, with dread. Fear, ultimate fear, and grief, one he knew he would feel.  You swallowed the hard lump in your throat as tears streamed down your face.  “It’s ok...” You said. “It’s ok, it’s not your fault.” You reassured him, nodding in the man’s tight hold. “I love you... Thank you for letting me love you, thank you so much for l-letting me love you.” He shook his head, the silent tears falling down his cheek. You could see him tremble.  “Jungkook, please, please don’t fucking do this,” Yoongi argued, receiving a strong hit to his side.  “Put the gun down, Jungkook... It’s ok, I love you.” You watched his stance falter, and you closed your eyes, ready to embrace what was coming next.  You heard the familiar sound of gunshots, the familiar feeling of something hitting you, but not in the head, almost just like the first day, and your body slumped down to the floor, the pain radiating all through your body before you blacked out.  n/a: see you in the next and final chapter of Raven Unit. 

[outroshooky]

waiting for the sky to fall | jjk

⇢ genre: series; part one (i-saw-you-on-the-subway-every morning-this-week-and-i’m-possibly-in-love-with-you!au) (fluff)

⇢ pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader

⇢ word count: 6.3k

⇢  warnings: brief instance of anxiety; probably too much rambling about how pretty jeongguk is when he exists like that

⇢ a/n: a dearest birthday present for the love of my life and platonic soulmate @guksheart. cait, i cannot believe we have been a part of each other’s lives for over a year now. i adore you so so much and i am so proud of the bold, compassionate, wonderfully gay, fierce yet gentle, considerate, accepting, lovely woman that you are. i would not trade our sisterhood for the world, and i still cannot believe that you are coming to new york in a mere matter of months. i can only hope that we’ll have adventures like this one when you do.

this is heavily inspired by the commute i took to visit my friend in the city over the summer!! kudos to columbia university for loaning me some much-needed inspiration, although i never fell in love with anybody on the way there.

part one of the verses and vibes series. part two will be uploaded on december 20, 2019.

“bright star, would i were stedfast as thou art—   not in lone splendour hung aloft the night   and watching, with eternal lids apart,   like nature’s patient, sleepless eremite,”

⤷ “bright star, would i were stedfast as thou art”; john keats

10:57pm.

Call it 11, it’s close enough.

Eleven o’clock in the evening.

A sacred time, those great appreciators of the universe would say. It is amazing how, as the wind caresses your hair with breezy fingers, there are some who walk the city streets below without pause. Some who cannot understand the sanctity of such a time, the security that comes with the blanket of nightfall— if you could call it nightfall in the heart of such a metropolis.

Below you beats a rhythm akin to the one in your soul, beneath the skin of your merely human chest. A home you’d heard so much about, fallen in love with before you’d even met, and god it couldn’t have felt more right. Over the edge of the balcony is utter chaos: taxi cabs honk an irregular staccato, the open! sign of the ramen shop one block over flickers its own neon melody. People shout, brakes screech, doors bang, dogs bark; to anybody else, it would be utter madness but to you- to you, it is simply home.

The ambient light mutes the glow of so many stars that pinprick the sky millions of miles above, arcing across the heavens in so many celestial designs. If you squint, you can pick out Casseopia, maybe even Ursa Major through the dim haze. The stars are far and few between, but it’s a quick glance to your left and right and you’re surrounded by majestic masterpieces, this time of a manmade design.

When you were younger, you used to muse that skyscrapers not only scraped the bright blue sky so far above, but supported the very cosmos itself with the slight curve in their arching backs. They bore the weight of the world, shouldering the immense task of keeping the stratosphere aloft. For a skyscraper to crumble was for the sky to fall, and yet you’d never seen one even waver in the wind.

Later, of course, you would learn that this was not the case. Earth herself kept the stratosphere in good health, and those wonderfully tall buildings existed as testaments to man’s great ability. However, there was a quiet part of you that still entertained the fantasy (as all of us do, in one way or another). And why not? It's moments like this, where you are surrounded by the dizzying breadth of the world out there and you can taste the sweetness of the universe’s ambrosia, that have you thinking twice about it all. Who says that we can't hold up the sky? Who says we don't spend our lives wondering, even if just a little bit, when the pillars will collapse and the sky itself will cave in one shuddering breath? Who decides when the Sun will burn, the Moon will freeze, when life as we know it tumbles to ash and dust?

“Baby?” His fingers interlock over yours, warm against the cool of the balcony railing. “Everything okay?”

His chest is warm against your back, grounding in its familiarity. You could name the planes and angles of his body like you could name the asterisms that freckle the night sky. He smells like cucumber soap when you turn and nuzzle into his neck, the damp locks of his hair tickling your forehead. You usually tease him when he’s post-shower like this, the bangs that tumble past his cheekbones giving the impression of a shaggy mop, but you spare him tonight. He squeezes over your hand, palm flush against your knuckles as your cheeks heat against his neck. 

“I’m fine,” you murmur. “Just taking a moment.”

Jeongguk tilts his head skyward, but he’s already got the universe in his eyes, wide and fawn. His chest rumbles when he speaks, soft velvet, a little gritty. “It's so beautiful out here.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” you raise your head to reply, brushing your nose to the column of his throat.

He’s got good composure but he's blushing now, between the lateness of the hour and the softness of your skin. He may smell of Dove and there’s a pimple dotting his cheek, but you’re stunning in the light and there’s a faint air of something sweet; if it’s your skin or your soul, he can’t decide. Perhaps both but he can’t help himself; his lips find your forehead and your eyes flutter shut. Contentment so simple, so lovely. 

His arm slides around your shoulders and the way you fit into his side is divine insistence. The other half you never knew you had, and yet at one time, it wasn’t this way. Hard to believe, but that’s the reality of it, and you never even knew he filled a gap in your heart until the deed was done, and there was nothing you could do to unplug the hole.

He kisses your temple and you kiss his shoulder, exposed by the dip of his t-shirt. “Come to bed, baby.”

“But it’s so nice out here,” you whine. 

“It’s late and you have class in the morning,” he coaxes quietly, his accented English gentle in your ears. “Come on.” His fingers slip from your own and you sigh, giving in.

“But you have to carry me inside.”

His eyes roll but he’s already stooping, and when he scoops you into his arms to press a kiss to your nose- he just can’t help himself- you poke his cheek and he grins a smile as warm as the lazy afternoon sun. “I love you.”

“I love you twice that amount.”

Jeongguk takes the balcony in stride, nudges the sliding door open with his foot. “Yeah, well I love you fifty times that amount. Squared.”

He kicks it closed behind him as you raise an eyebrow. “Cheater.”

“I’ll throw you on the bed, swear to god.”

“You’re mean,” You retort. 

“No I’m not.” He turns the light off on his way in, bumps the bedroom door shut with his impossibly slender hip. “I’ll be the big spoon if you take that back.”

Bedsheets under your fingertips. “Fine.”

It is hard to believe that, merely a year ago, you would be coming inside to an empty bed. Merely a year ago, your world would be silent, save the busy hum outside your apartment windows. Merely a year ago, you hadn’t a clue that your world was about to turn upside down, flipped on its axis and spun into chaos in ways you’d never even considered possible. Merely a year, but a lifetime spent sitting, waiting, wishing- twiddling your thumbs, chewing on your fingernails, anxiously hoping for something, anything.

And that’s when, exactly three-hundred and sixty-four days ago, the columns gave out in a rush of dust, the cosmos itself unraveling at the seams of early morning.

 Momentary silence, a stifled yawn. “Come cuddle.”

A sleepy, breathy, near-whisper. “Will you be the big spoon?”

Jeongguk chuckles, breath soft. “Always, baby girl. Always.”

one year before

There’s no better alarm clock than a caramel macchiato, sipped through tired lips and bleary eyes on the chaos of a Monday morning in the subway. You are far from a morning person, as evidenced by the death grip on your Starbucks cup, but you feel just a little more human with the help of four espresso shots and a pump of hazelnut. Having an off-campus apartment means it’s a roughly twenty minute subway ride between home and school, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, not when there’s not much of a difference between the two.

To be frank, the city is home- a comfort you never expected, the subject of a thousand love letters never to be written but in the deepest cavities of your soul. The grime of the sidewalks, the gritty rumbling of the subways, artful graffiti and corner bubble tea and a little bit of pride, thrumming in the deepest recesses of necessity. The city in which you grew up is merely a square foot to the square acres that are your romping ground now.

The wires of your headphones snake around your scarf, bundled up around your shoulders. It is that wonderful time before fall bleeds over completely into winter, a lingering cool breath, and arguably the best season of all. Thus, you are perfectly comfortable underneath a warm jacket, backpack slung across your shoulder as you swipe your card, pass through the turnstiles and on to the waiting train just across the platform.

The subway car rattles beneath you with a groan, darkness rushing past in so many variants of orange from the neon lights that dotted the tunnels. Around you, bodies press tight on the morning commuter train; in any other circumstance, it would make you anxious, but there’s an odd feeling of security it grants. The train slows, pulling into the next station, and you focus your attention on the page of Madeline Miller’s latest bestseller.

At the next station, the car decompresses as travelers shift, and you are left a moment to breathe before the train will inevitably fill again, two stops from now. Next to you, a purple jacket brushes your shoulder. Just above the top of your book, a pair of black Timberlands pauses before turning towards you and settling. 

There really is no reason at all why these Timberlands would be special. There's no reason at all why your eyes find it necessary to track upwards, no reason why you should have glanced up from your delightful novel for the sake of one commuter’s settling. No reason at all why, as your eyes followed skinny jean-clad thighs to a leather jacket, and further, further.

His caramel-streaked hair brushes his cheekbones, styled in a way you’d typically call bedhead, but on him looks like art. His brow is soft yet defined, much like his jawline, cutting narrow. His lips are perfectly pink, a gentle pout, and his graceful nose a button. His shoulders are broad, the taper of his waist impossibly slender but hidden under the folds of his ridiculously oversized t-shirt. 

And his eyes- his eyes. 

You have poured over literature for hours upon hours, soaking in poetry and epics and novels alike, yet you have never understood what the poets meant until this very moment.

His eyes are the café au lait you sip on sunny afternoons, the sweetness of a chocolate bar, the warmth of a woolen blanket in wintertime. They glint with the light of a thousand stars but shine with the depth of a thousand galaxies, each and every one a testament to the great work of the universe. It is as if he holds the very cosmos in his pupils, and your breath is stolen from your lungs without a second thought. 

He is stunningly beautiful but goes completely unnoticed by everyone else in the car, it seems, as the train picks up speed. There is no greater punishment than tearing your gaze away from him when you realize you've been staring too long to be socially acceptable. You force yourself to return back to your novel but end up reading the same line five times over, too distracted by the shift of his heels, the way he toys with the straps of his rucksack. 

Part of you aches every time the train car fills, obscuring your view of the handsome stranger. Each time, you’re left wondering if he's moved, but each time, the crowds part to find him still seated on the garish plastic bench, glued to his iPhone. Your stop is the next and you can't help but feel anxious about getting up, about turning face and walking out of the train car. Your heart rattles an irregular tempo as you snap your book shut (still on the same page as twenty minutes ago), gather your things, and carefully stand amid the gently rocking car. He doesn't even look up at your sudden movement, and there's a part of you that is somehow irrationally crushed. 

The train grinds to a halt and the doors slide open, and you spare one last longing look before striding across the grimy tile, minding the gap between the train and the platform. Foolish of you to want to stop your day for the sake of an attractive stranger. Foolish of you to think his day would stop, either. 

With a muffled curse behind you, footsteps thud and voices grumble as a mop-haired boy with a rucksack on his shoulder bursts his way out of the train car, having nearly forgotten that this is his stop, too. When something brushes your arm as you jog up the stairs, you nearly drop your Starbucks with the realization that he is unintentionally keeping pace with you across the stairwell, lost behind the curtain of his fawn locks. 

Anxiety melts to curiosity as you weave through the station, matching pace all the while as you’re spit out onto the street from underground and walk the mere half block to your university gates. He hesitates under them, a touch of nerves, but shakes his head and continues on under the tree-covered path of the quad. You lose him somewhere by the Economics building, heading towards the library as you turn towards Hamilton Hall, but the excited thrill in your veins outweighs any and all disappointment.

You're practically glowing during 8am lecture, dancing on air through your lunch break when you think you spot him across the dining hall, but in fact it's just that guy from your math gen-ed. You’d never admit to a stranger consuming your thoughts, but here’s a nagging feeling at the back of your skull as you zip up your bag at the end of your day and head towards the corner station. 

A typical Monday indeed?

Anything but. 

It was certainly unconventional, the way you launched yourself out of bed the next morning in favor of tripping into a pair of jeans and dashing to fix your hair in the bathroom mirror. You haven't put so much effort into getting ready in months, and factoring in time for a dab of makeup left you skipping breakfast in favor of slinging your bag over your shoulder to rush out the door on time.

An iced Americano restores breath to your lungs, but does nothing to soothe the jitter in your bouncing knee as the train doors shut and a voice crackles over the intercom, unintelligible. A chocolate croissant is light on your tongue, memories of the flaky pastry crossing your mind only to be drowned out by thoughts of the next station and the promises it holds.

With no novel in hand, it is easy for your eyes to flick to the crowd as the train slows coming into the station. Effortlessly, you pick him out even with the white mask across the lower half of his face obscuring his nose and mouth. His visage is scrawled, it seems, on the inside of your eyelids; it danced throughout your Human Behaviors class, teased you through the late night of cramming for midterms. You hoped the concealer would cover the dark spots under your eyes, but you couldn't be certain.

As the doors slide open and the crowd surges forward, you lose him for a moment in the streams and flows of people coming and going. He appears just down the car, button-down rolled at the elbows, and even from a distance you feel your cheeks heat as he finds an empty seat just across the aisle.

Yesterday, his jacket hid him to the knuckles under the security of worn leather. But today, pushed sleeves reveal the ink snuggled tight around his wrist, curling its way up his forearm to snake hidden under the folds of the unbuttoned dress shirt he so casually threw over another plain black t-shirt. Sunflowers and daisies and blossoms you can't even name bloom in color across his skin, geometric designs etching sculpture into living marble. He is a magnum opus through and through, bearing so many works of art on the canvas of his flesh.

The white wires of his headphones leave him oblivious to the world, the galaxies in his pupils twinkling under the stark white light. He is wholly unbothered by a group of high school girls tittering to his left, the judging eyes of the older gentleman to his right. He simply exists in all of his beauty, whether the world wishes to love him or not.

And then his eyes find you.

It is only for a moment, but his gaze renders you breathless, mind spinning, pulse racing. He blinks owlishly, staring only for a second, two, but it's long enough to feel your heart ricochet around your chest, caged butterflies in your chest soar against the crest of your ribcage. They dart in tandem, beating their fragile wings with a fluttering pulse; you swear you’re reduced to a mere teenager at the sight of him, and that’s just ridiculous. The train car around you is suspended; it is hard to believe you are breathing the same air merely a few paces away, but you are and it is him and the depth of his soul is staring you blind in the face.

You don’t know him but you know him, all at once. He says a thousand sweet nothings with the shine of the lights in his eyes, promises commandments to keep when his lashes flutter against the apples of his cheeks. He is a complete stranger but somehow, someway, a known companion. His fingers twitch against the fabric of his jeans and you wonder what they would feel like wrapped around yours, memorizing every divot with a careful reverence. How they would brush your hip when he pulls you against his side, how they would pull at you craving more, more, more— 

A spice of cologne curls under your nose, a little floral, a little sweet. Perhaps it’s his, the scent that clings to his pillow in the morning and his jacket in the evening. The tap of the woman’s foot to your left is the beat of his footsteps on the creaky apartment floor as he announces he’s home, he’s brought dinner; life is simple and content—

He nods his head to the beat that flows quick through his headphones, eyes shut, in his own world. You can’t help but wonder what it would be like to share on your morning commute, fingers entwined with coffee in one hand but music in your heart—

Bodies around you ebb and flow, but the flurry is nothing compared to the images that swirl in front of you. Tracing his tattoos with the lightest touch, laughing till his nose scrunches at a shitty pun, early kisses and late-night touches. The warmth in his eyes when you do something stupid, the comfort in your arms around his shoulders when he’s doubting himself—

It’s a misplaced elbow to your ribs that jolts you out of reverie as the older gentleman seated next to you creaks to his feet. You wince and open your mouth to complain, but not before taking in the empty seat across the train car, devoid of leather and ink and beauty.

Where did he g— 

That’s when the car doors slide shut and you, all too soon, come to a stunning realization:

The handsome stranger whom you have just spent twenty minutes daydreaming about is gone, nowhere to be seen, lost in the crowd of chaos that is the city.

And you have completely missed your stop.

Well, it’s a damn good thing taxi cabs exist.

Your alarm does not go off on Wednesday morning. Perhaps a fatal mistake, because by the time your dreary eyes crack open at the suspicious amount of rest you’re getting for the middle of the week, you are supposed to leave your apartment in eight minutes— shower, breakfast, makeup, and all.

Perhaps there is a god looking out for you after all, because you manage to make it out of the house only two minutes later (although just about all of the above had to wait). Your stomach grumbles as your feet trod down the littered stairs of the station, an insistent reminder that the last meal you had was ten hours ago, and you really need to eat sooner rather than later. No time meant no coffee meant cold hands, an unfortunate consequence, and you’re shivering your way through the turnstiles onto the train as the wind bites cool at the back of your neck.

You’re still drowsy from sleep, a ten page paper having kept you awake, so it is no surprise that you nod off on the train. You’re not sure when your mind clears of soporific fog, but when your eyes flutter open, the one person you’ve been waiting for is seated in front of you with his elbow slung across a backpack next to him, propping up his head as he too drifts off. A raven cloth mask covers his nose and his mouth, his eyelashes brushing the curve of his cheeks, a bit crimson from the chill. A binder slips crooked under his arm, threatening to topple to the floor. Squinting at the train board means you’ve got two stops left and you force yourself upright, rubbing your eyes only to wince at their dryness.

Though your eyes ache and sleep tugs at your bones, he is worth staying awake for as his body sways with the rhythm of the car. Around you, everyone is immersed in their own little slices of the world, completely oblivious to another tired traveler. There’s a scar on his cheek and a tiredness about him, and your heart, two sizes too big, aches for something you don’t quite understand. One station passes without interruption and he is still asleep, draped over his backpack with his notebook slipping further, further. 

The train rounds the final bend, brakes screeching as it pulls into the station. The sudden deceleration is enough to send the stranger’s binder, packed with papers, spinning to the floor of the train just as you stand to gather your things. A few index cards here, some loose green and white papers there, and he is somehow still asleep through all of this, surrounded by oblivious minds and occupied hearts.

You have approximately five seconds to make a decision before the train fills with a swell of new passengers.

You don’t have to think when you’ve already made your choice.

Forgoing the cleanliness of your jeans, you stoop to the floor, scrabbling the spilled contents of paper and a pencil and a spare Chapstick into the mouth of the binder. People are already beginning to spill through the door, but you’re pushing your way through without a second glance, feet pounding the steps underneath you. You follow the beam of light that pours underground, cutting corners and rushing staircases until you are facing a narrow city block and the buildings that reach on tiptoe to kiss the heavens. The sun’s caress is warm on your cheeks as you stride through the gates, ever stony in their stoicism, and find a shady bench to sit and organize the mess in your hands.

It is a simple black binder filled to the brim with notebook paper, neat handwritten ideas that dissolve into simplistic sketches and jotted thoughts. You don’t mean to read it, you really don’t, but as you tuck the pencil into the neon green case looped through the rings, a single form catches your eye: an advertisement for the show in the greater library this weekend, set up by the architecture majors showcasing their designs in conjunction with the fine arts students.

He does fine arts? That must be the sketches in these pages. But perhaps it’s a casual hobby for him? Maybe he’s only interested in it and not actually pursuing it as a major. There’s Korean on this too; is he an international student? How long has he been going here? Why isn’t he dorming on campus with the others—  

A cough in front of you, and when you glance upward, you nearly choke in surprise.

Hazel shines russet when his eyes catch the light that filters through the trees, twinkling with something unknown when they meet your own. His hair is tucked under a beanie, vivid red against the muddy brown of his oversized sweater. His mask is pulled down to his chin as he fidgets in front of you, twisting his fingers with almost a childlike nervousness. His lips part, plush, a little chapped. “Can I have that?”

His English is sweet, accented on the ears, a softer tone than you’re expecting, but you don’t mind it. Curse your nerves and your sweaty palms! “Oh! Yeah, sure!” You nearly shove the binder at him and he blinks owlishly, taking a moment to examine its contents, making sure nothing is out of place while you ramble on and on. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get it back to you on the train, but you were asleep and I didn’t want to bother you, especially since here that’s typically just not what people do, you know how they are- Oh, your pencils and things are inside the pencil case, I figured they would be too much to try to carry around before I found you, you know? And I didn’t want anything to get lost; I hate when things of mine go missing and I tend to be so scatterbrained.” You chortle nervously as he hugs the binder to his chest.

A small smile blossoms on the stranger’s face and you get the feeling there’s more he wants to say, but doesn’t know how. Instead, he bows graciously, a little pink in the cheeks, and states simply, “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem, really! Don’t worry about it. It’s what I’d want someone to do for me and since I’ve seen you only recently on the morning train, I didn’t quite know if you’re new to campus or you’ve been here a while and just moved or something like that-” He’s still staring, eyes wide, and you realize you’ve been talking for far too long. “But ah, I’m sorry! Continue on, yeah? Have a good day!” You ramble, internally kicking yourself. Damn your loose tongue and damn this man for being so infernally, unfairly attractive.

He blushes even deeper, face flushing crimson, and shoulders his backpack. “You too…?” When he trails off, you realize he’s waiting for your name and nearly trip over your own tongue getting the syllables out. He repeats it once and nods, extending a hand. “My name is Jeongguk.”

The way his fingers brush yours is ingrained in the softness of your skin for the rest of your day, in the touch of cologne that lingers in the autumn air long after he’s gone to class. He is the sweetness of your afternoon Starbucks and the freckles of the night sky, dotted through the ambient fog that settles over the city with all the comfort of a blanket. Somehow, someway, there’s a name to the face.

A very handsome face, to boot.

You wake early that Thursday, early enough that you have time to wrap yourself in the fuzziest blanket you own and pad to the window to gaze out upon the city as it wakes slowly, block by block.

The city is sleepy too, rosy glow hanging lazily over the skyline, reluctant to slip into the brightness of daytime. It slumps against the skyscrapers, vibrant fingers brushing the glass with the softest caresses, whispering sweet nothings to the minds that rest just behind the other side. Perhaps dawn enjoys pampering her city like this, with the kindest affirmations and the prettiest, warmest eyes. 

From your apartment window, it is as if first light is melting away, slipping lower and lower as the cracked-egg yolk of the sun leaks over the harbor, spilling over the urban jungle. As you stand, blanket around your shoulders and bathed in the beauty of early morning, a thought strikes you, a minute snippet of profound reality.

It is still on your mind as your feet cross the platform an hour later, effortlessly stepping over the gap into the narrow confines of the train car. It’s busier this morning and thus your usual seat is taken, leaving you to stand and cling for dear life to the pole. A stranger brushes your arm and someone pushes against your backpack, your throat tightening in response. Oh, how you hated busy days. Anxiety blurs your surroundings, swirling in color and breath and heat around you, an unfocused Polaroid. It is blurry and nothing is right, and the doors are opening and closing, opening and closing, and then there’s a new face pressing to your left, and your entire world melts at the very seams.

It is him. Him! He is here and real and in front of you, and has opted to completely ignore his usual (empty) seat in favor of standing with you, a kindly smile gracing the corners of his lips and he ducks his head into your field of view. His eyes flick to yours and the bokeh clears, your heart thrumming happily at the warmth they contain. His fingers grip above your own as he shifts to make sure others can flow around him; you take in that little scar on his cheek, the moles that dot his neck just under the folds of his jacket, the subtle lick of ink that dips into his collarbone. You can just make out the hum that trickles from his headphones over the rattling of the train, a melodic undertone, and his head dips to check his phone.

You’re the one to nudge Jeongguk when it’s your mutual stop, him flinching with surprise when he realizes how fast the ride has gone, and as you follow up through the station, you find that you are no longer trailing him, but instead by his side. He opts to walk next to you; when you tilt your head, asking the silent question, he merely smiles and pushes the pace just a bit. When you’re chasing sunlight on stone, borne out of the street into the mouth of the day, you find yourselves under the university gates, side by side. He takes out his earbuds, fidgeting with the wires as one foot taps the sidewalk. He’s nervous. “I just wanted to say thank you for getting my book yesterday,” he begins. “Properly thank you.”

“It’s nothing, Jeongguk!” You grin, perhaps a little flushed. “Anytime, really.”

Now it’s his turn to redden, shuffling in place. “Ah, is there anything I can do to return the favor?”

“Jeongguk, don’t be silly! Well…” you trail off. “Answer me one question. What’re you majoring in?”

He beams a little at this, glancing at the sidewalk. “I’m studying architecture here for a year; I’m from Seoul. I’m also learning English.” He winces. “Or trying to.”

“Well, I think you’re doing a great job. It’s amazing that you’re learning architecture in an urban environment like this!” You gesture above as a flock of pigeons flutters past. Like a damn Disney film. 

His eyes follow the birds as they swoop above the street, ducking under lamps and through scaffolding. “It’s different from Seoul, but also like Seoul. I like it,” he confesses. “I really like the city. Any city is my city, not just Seoul. You know?”

God, he is so cute, it hurts. Hearing him talk is flowers blooming snug in your chest, winding around your nerves, soothing their live-wire ends. You can’t help but smile at him. “I know.”

“I don’t want to keep you too long…” Jeongguk hesitates as the bell in the clocktower resonates down the commons. “Class starts soon.”

You frown. “Too soon. Want to grab lunch over at Fourteenth?”

His brows furrow. “Fourteenth?”

“Fourteenth and Tenth, yeah. There’s a cute little cafe on the corner, great for people watching and Americanos. And bubble tea. There’s ramen a few shops down, too.”

“Ramen!” Jeongguk practically vibrates in excitement. You swear your face will crack from how hard you’re grinning, from shyness or joy or both. His nose scrunches; your stomach flutters. “Can I have your number? Wait, is that too direct? May I have your phone?” He shakes his head but you’re already handing him your device, a new contact at the ready.

“Text me when you get out of class. I’ll show you how real ramen is supposed to taste.”

Jeongguk raises a hand in farewell, slipping his own phone back into his pocket. You’ll never know that he saved your contact under 귀여운 여행자, nor that he suddenly has a reason to stay awake through his 8am.

And when he spots you sitting there under the Alma Mater a few hours later, his heart skips a beat in its chest. His phone vibrates in his hand.

Ready to eat?

He was born ready.

There’s a poetry book you like to read on Friday morning subway rides, one that filters breath into your lungs and stirs the lyrics in your heart. You soak up the comforts of literature with a mocha in the other hand, lo-fi in your ears, and obnoxiously colored plastic supporting your back. How wonderful life could be in all of its simple joys.

There’s warmth at your side in the form of a boy, a boy with the stars in his eyes and the galaxy in his heart who asked if he could sit next to you and with a pounding in your chest, you gladly accepted, moving your bag to your lap and returning to your Keats, singing cants of yearning all these years later.

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art--

Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night

And watching, with eternal lids apart,

Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,

The moving waters at their priestlike task

Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,

Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask

Of snow upon the mountains and the moors--

No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,

Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,

To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,

Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,

And so live ever--or else swoon to dea—

A note is tucked into your open page, a folded piece of cream-white paper, smooth at the edges, unwrinkled. You glance up at him to find his gaze steadily fixed on a grayed gum stain, knee jumping up and down, up and down as he fingers the rip in his frayed jeans. You unfold the paper slowly, carefully.

Are you busy on Sunday afternoon? Because I’d really like to take you to an art exhibition on campus, and I think you’d look right at home among the masterpieces.

Jeongguk’s focus is on the floor and the floor alone as his stomach twists. Butterflies beat their wings against his ribcage, darting here and there, and he swears that if the train sways one more time, he may throw up his bagel right there and then.

He feels something at his right jacket pocket and flinches, only to notice it is your hand that retreats from it a second later.

He produces a familiar looking scrap of paper from his pocket with trembling fingers, unfolding it anew as he reads a new line of scribbled letters, squinting a little at the cramped figures.

An art exhibition? Sounds like a perfect first date to me.

And that’s how this beautiful thing begins.

an epilogue (of sorts): one year and one day later

There is a thought you had many moons ago, in the heart of a child but nestled in a timeless soul. A thought that was purely fantasy: of mankind supporting the weight of the heavens with the structures that scratch the sky around your tiny little apartment, shared not by one soul, but two. Never before had someone so fallen into your heart like he had, cradling it in his palms with sweet, sweet adoration. Jeongguk was yours and you were his, and that was simply how things were.

You had moved in shortly after you began dating, a decision some criticized but had felt purely natural to the both of you. It was easy to fall into a rhythm with him, easy to let him into the world you had built for yourself now expanding to fit one more.

He introduced you to Korean barbecue and held you when things wouldn’t go your way; you dragged him into the vortex of John Mulaney’s comedy and cried together while binging all seven Harry Potter movies in two days. He taught you some Korean while you polished his English, supplementing it with words he perhaps didn’t need to know, but you couldn’t help laughing when he mashed profanities in brand-new combinations. He loved tea and quiet nights on the couch; you craved the intimate moments high above it all, watching your city rush beneath you in all of its gritty, grimy, wonderful glory. Jeongguk’s pen scratches the page of his sketchbook as you gaze out at the lights that flicker in the apartment buildings seated securely in midtown, downtown, beyond.

We will never know when the sky decides to fall, to come crashing down to earth in all of her heavenly splendor. It is something known only in the fabric of the universe, stitched together in cosmic threads we cannot even hope to unravel. Not yet, anyways. It will come to us eventually, when it is time, comfortably so. In the meantime, you’ll look out over the balcony railing of your little studio apartment uptown, the night air breathing clear, with a blanket wrapped around your legs and Jeon Jeongguk by your side, unceasingly himself.

And that is everything you can ask for in this life and the next.

[todokanai-suishou]

Excerpt of a fic I didn’t know I still had

Vanilla Twilight - an excerpt of what used to be a ceo!JJK AU fanfic written at three AM somewhen in november. I don’t know why I didn’t choose names.

Neither do I know why I’m posting this. Good Night. WC: 2,4k

„As many times as I blink I'll think of You tonight“

It's been what? Three months now? Yeah, it must have been about three months since she told him „I don't want to see you again.“ Three Months since the love of his way too young life just stumbled out of it completely, three months since he's been drowning himself in work,

and yet, only two days since his father told him not to.“You need a break“ he said. „You'll die before you reach my age if you keep overworking like that.“ „Take a leave for the next week or so, the company won't go down in flames because you're missing for a few days.“

But yet it felt like the company was the only thing that held him together anymore. It may have been unhealthy to work that much, but sitting on his rooftop right now and starring at the sun that was setting wasn't any better. The company might not have missed him, but he missed her and if he was wide awake like that, from the lack of work or excercise to keep him from falling asleep as soon as he even saw a bed, it was worse.

There was nothing to distract him now. No means to make up for what he had done and no reason to not think of her this very second

on this very day, that once was so special to them both.

A tear ran down his face as he gripped the magnetic bracelets tighter with his left hand. Two years had passed since he's got his.

„If my heart was a house, you'd be home.“ they'd say. The compasses reacting to each other wildly, needles swinging left to right beneath the glass as the bracelets were pressed together.

At one point, after she left hers at his place that night, he stopped wearing his. Though for the time being, he still looked into the little flowery treasure chest in his closet to see if hers was still with his, Hoping she'd secretly somehow come to sneak in and steal it like she did his heart three years ago, or that it was all a bad dream and he woke up with her next to him like they did on every trip, or back somewhen two and a half years ago when she fell asleep in his apartment after watching some movie he didn't want to watch in first place. He still hoped, wished, dreamed he could go back to that.

And every time it was devastating. It was devastating to see her bracelet next to his, lying there and just pointing at the other as theirs would if they were within a few metres.

But she wasn't. And he had no idea where the hell she was. And it killed him. It killed him when he told her she'd never change, that he made her say good bye instead of letting her into his apartment, when he was the only one she trusted with her deepest thoughts, the only one she felt whole around and when she was the only one he ever really loved that loudly, and he didn't tell her until she walked out of his life,her still saying „I'm sorry“. When, to him, he was always the one that should be saying sorry for the things he said and did that night.

Or maybe they shouldve both just said sorry, talked it out.

He sighed „no.“ She made it clear that she didn't want to talk. She didn't want him to apologize, or at least not accept it. Letting her pride led by the pain get in the way ...and that was just what it was.

He created a hole in both their hearts and for a second he contemplated just throwing both of these bracelets down the 24th floor into the rose planted and flower filled garden, so he wouldn't find them even if he tried - and They could fall anywhere.

Another sigh from him as he clenched his hand tighter around the bracelets, holding them up as though he was ready to throw them as soon as the sun would have fully set.

But he didn't. He couldn't.

He just got flashbacks of that night when she gave it to him.

„I swear to god if you ever lose or break yours, or if I see another person with it, I'll kill you.“ she'd say smiling, but he fully knew she meant it. „There's only two of them“ „They were custom made.“ They were his blessing and now his curse. He looked up into the sky, somehow trying not to cry while it seemed like the same full moon from back then came to taunt him now, laughing at him with „Tsuki No Usagi“ laughing along at how pathetic he was.

But he cried. He cried a lot, clutching both of these bracelets over his heart. He couldn't do anything to them. He knew he wouldn't.

Except for the smell of her perfume on the couch pillow she prefered to lean her head on and hug, they were the only thing of hers that was still with him and he thought that maybe, just maybe...

in another universe he'd still be with her, with these bracelets.

And maybe in this world one day, he'll get her back, give her the bracelets and somehow everything goes back to normal. Despite the trust being broken, the wishful thinking didn't stop. A sillouette to build him up again.

However when  he cried his last, he didn't mean to get up. Something drew him to the stars that night. All he got was a blanket before tiredly making his way back up just to continue whatever he meant to do.

He fell asleep a few hours after getting the blanket she gave him, on the roof that night, in between looking up at the stars, looking up at the constellations trying to find the ones she tried to show him before. Failing miserably, like tonight, two years ago, and almost laughing through the tears he shed, at how she showed him a million times and he still couldn't figure out all that astrology stuff, or how they worked, and so “well”.

All he knew was that looking for even the slightest signs of stars and constellations in the sky, brought him a little closer to her.

Maybe she'd be looking up tonight too, probably in a different timezone, to a different time, he didn't know.

But what the did know was that for a second, while actually finding the little bear, he was happy. „I did it,love, I did it.“ For the first time in forever while thinking about her, he actually smiled.

It was a weird feeling of, not quiet feeling content, but better, a little less sad. Maybe he'd always spend like three hours just ripping strands of his black hair out while trying to find anything in the sky. Texting you like he did that night.

“And love, you won't see it, but, I did it. I found one of the constellations, I bet you'd be so proud now. I'm still lost though. I wish you were here with me. To tell me about all of them. And your days. And you and what I missed And see your probably already new hair do and hear you laugh and rant about your literature professor. I just want to see you. Hear you. Happy. And mostly I want to give you your bracelet. I can't even remember which one was yours though. Please remind me.”

A lie. He knew exactly her bracelet had a little slit on one of the wooden pearls, as he accidentally lost track of the knife while cooking. He was apologizing so many times that night while she yelled about him almost chopping her arm off and he almost had to laugh again. She raged that night, but eventually they'd laugh about it later on.

„JK, I'd never forget“ he wrote below a photo he sent. Him wearing his bracelet for once while looking at how the compasses searched for each other. Knowing well the photo wouldn’t reach her though. That she still had him blocked, yet...

Wondering if one day she'd search for him again. Knowing she'd be the only one who could find him instantly.

„Good Night, flower girl.

I Really Miss you terribly“

„Sincerely, me“ he typed, deleted „yours tru-“ deleted.

„- The dumb ass that almost chopped your arm off about 16 months ago.“

If she could read it, she'd no doubt, be laughing but for now he'd hoped someone else would make her laugh the way he used to.

That she could focus on her studies and not the loss of him and the few grams she no longer carried around with her.

He wished her to be as happy as he can't be right now, as happy as she can be and with other, possibly better people, who would treat her well. Also that she got better at smash bros and mario cart so people wouldn't laugh at her being terribly bad again.

„Maybe I should also take on drawing lessons“ he whispered before tiredly closing his eyes „but I guess if she ever found out, she'd be the one to almost cut my arm off“

slight reminders of her telling him the only thing she was really good at was drawing and how she showed him and he really didn't figure out how anything worked at all flashed in his mind as he calmed.

„I'll teach you“ and only she could.

Well, technically she couldn't. He was a hopeless case and they both knew. Clowns. Clowns in love, for she loved him as much as he loved her, but the words always stayed unsaid. She'd make an impression that she did the night he ruined her, but he was too far gone.

Never from her mind though. He was still what she'd draw on the weekend when she was not in the mood for her theses or working. He. Though painful, was still her healing in some kind of way.

„You're working on that again?“ Her new dorm mate said as she sketched his face from memory. They had a different model in the art class she enrolled in right now but the face portraits still always went back to him. Much like the pictures where someone posed with scrunched up noses or peace signs.

She really didn't mind it though, for some reason, unless she found the initial sketch of their bracelets, drawing him was therapeutic, falling asleep on those pictures was therapeutic.

And her just getting a hick up as she started sketching reminded her „If you get the hick-ups, someone's thinking about you. My mom used to say that.“ She laughed back when she told him one night at one of their week-end trips, half drunk and laughing. Him responding with „Yeah, or someone talks badly about you, my three times divorced and landlord-hated aunt said. She had a hick-up problem.“

More laughter to the backround noise of „if my heart was a house” followed by slurred lines of „sugar we're going down“ and „american idiot.“

She chuckled quietly. „Oh shut up, I want to sleep“ her roommate exclaimed. It wasn't that late though, was it?.

Seven pm, still early, the sun not yet setting. Yet, with the full moon above, she couldn't wait for the sunset, night fall.

She stared at her phone. „Approximately 15 Minutes till the sun starts setting and you usually can't fall asleep until it's getting cotton candy skied, what's wrong this time?“ a chuckle escaped her mouth.

„Bad break up.“ the other girl murmured. „That's the 4th time in 15 days. I think you should get a new guy.“ - „That's also the third in  a month. Love just doesn't work for me, believe me.“

„It will.“ The artist said. „Even if the person you think you'll end up with isn't the one, one day, with the right person, it all will.“

She didn't realize tears were falling on her piece of paper as she switched to his contact on her phone, contemplated unblocking him, but eventually she didn't.

It would be better this way. She said good bye and it was irreversible. It always was irreversible for her. Gripping her empty wrist and letting go of the pen for a while she smiled through the tears and said, in a cheerful yet shaky voice.

“Even if it wasn't him, one day, there's someone who won't leave, who you won't leave. One day, I promise.“

Not knowing if it was to reassure her friend, or herself and not realizing she held her breath, until she felt two arms and a blanket wrap around her signaling that „everything will be okay, precious, everything will be okay“

and for once, even without her telling the context of the story no one really knew about, she started to let down her walls and cry to let out the emotions all the parting had led her to.

Even if her friend didn't know or understand her infatuation with Jeons son. She just held her as though the fragile soul, whining loudly like a child that fell and came running with a bleeding knee, would break if she wasn't there to give her the warmth she deserved and obviously needed in that very second.

„You know, I miss him so much.“ a little inaudible whisper said and her friend didn't understand what she meant, but „shhh, shhh, it gets better.“ Came from her until her roommate fell into a deep slumber.

All she saw was the name on the display that wouldn't go off. The display picture looking quite familiar.

Name saying „Jeon Jeon Jeon“ and the caring one wondered if the girl had been catfished and dreams crushed by that person on screen, and if that was exactly why she blocked that number. Ideas about unblocking him and investigating filling her head but then again, as much as she wanted to. She couldn't just meddle in a broken hearts story, especially not her friends.

So she kept her theoretic, tangled and still curious thoughts, knowing they'd stay just that - and left the blanket above the girl that was fast asleep, closing the book with the drawing of the Jeon boy and replacing it with a pillow to slobber on, instead of the art she created.

„Good Night, lovely“ she said as she went outside to take snapshots of the sky, making sure to get her friends beloved constellations on camera, as the sleeping beauty usually did herself. Sneaking in trying not to wake the other up again.

„Good Night, dumbass“ the artist almost fully asleep whispered as her friend said good night the way he did. Some things wouldn't fade and her roommates complaints the next morning, for insulting her, though accidentally, would be surely be one of those.  

__________________________

It’s 3am and I have no idea why I’m posting this. 

The Idea Of “Vanilla Twilight” is part of a ceo!Jungkook fanfiction I never posted because I usually don’t post my writing for..uh...reasons. 

“If my heart was a house -” fanfiction was created on national novel writing month and is a full on trainwreck that might never be finished. The Name as Well as reasons for the writing & inspiration for the bracelet design is lowkey because “if my heart was a house, you’d be home” by Owl City was kind of their Song since they first met and they do be soulmates so... >-<

Said magnetic bracelets stam from the line “if my heart was a compass you’d be north” and basically have magnets pulling “needles” towards eachother whenever they’re close. (They’re custom made, which is why they’re that special to OC & him. Also expensive as hell and she’s a poor lit/art student.) It was partially brought up by OC in a former chapter after they lost eachother at a fully crowded market and didn’t find eachother again for about two hours despite being like 2 minutes away from eachother the whole time. 

I don’t even know why I’m writing this it’s three AM lord help. Good Night.