Jesper Fahey, sharpshooter… and peak bi fashion disaster.
I am so. SO sorry. My roommate seemed to think he looks snazzy, but that was before I made his pants argyle. I’m so proud of the pearl handles on his pistols and those ridiculous little birds on his lapels, though. also his ascot is tied in a barrel knot did you see what I did there
Jungkook x Reader Genre: Angst, Fluff, BestFriends!AU, Artist!Jeon
Ever since he had seen you play the piano for your music class, he’d been inspired by the complete look of tranquility that conquered your features as your fingered danced across the keyboard. He had made that tranquility his soul purpose of drawing. He dreamt of capturing that expression and gifting it to you.
Late nights, he
was used to.
nights, he was also used to.
But missing you
was something he was not.
were something completely foreign to him. As Jungkook tossed and turned every
night, thoughts of you with him invaded his mind suffocating him. As he
sat in his bedroom alone, his eyes frantically searched the room desperately
trying to find traces of you. However, his effort was pathetic, it had been
months since you’d been in here. Months since you’d seen him and months since
he’d seen you. One would say he could always browse your Instagram or Facebook
to see you but that was his biggest dread. Fear gripped him by the throat at
the thought of stumbling upon a picture of you with him on any of his
at his alarm clock, the glowing numbers letting him know it was just past 3am.
The ungodly hour, you would call it. He smirked to himself remembering how
you’d told him this was Satan’s time to lurk and if he was ever up he should go
straight back to sleep or call you so you could sing him back to sleep.
However, that never happened. It was always him who would sing you to sleep
then he’d fall asleep himself to the sound of your soft breaths, wishing he was
holding on to you instead of the electronic device.
He glanced at
his phone which rested on his bedside table. It had been untouched and utterly
dead for days. No one contacted him after you and he didn’t want to contact
anyone but you. You were—are
his everything. He reluctantly plugged his phone into the charging port. He
should probably contact his family, let them know at least through text that
was he was fine. His family were used to silence from him, he was an artist.
When he was inspired, he would spend weeks attempting to finish his work in
complete seclusion, all distracts turned off or turned away. Everyone was
evicted from his work space, except you.