first i would like to say that @hohomotherfuckers is a quality blog and they made this fuckin banner for me and i just ugh i love you soap! Anywho, i reached 1k! below are some blogs that have made my tumblr experience better!
Request: In which Jungkook swears to always protect you—even if you don’t accept him. Pairing: Jungkook | Reader Genre: Fluff/Angst, Guardian Angel!AU Word Count: 8,681 Author’s Note: oh my god I finally finished this. I don’t know how I feel about it yet, but I hope you guys like it!!
Jungkook doesn’t remember dying.
He actually doesn’t remember anything much about, well, anything. As strange as it may sound, all he really remembers is darkness. Just an endless pitch, devoid of any life, the only thing to keep him company the whispers and remnants of his own thoughts—even though he’s not even sure he’s had much to begin with. It just feels like he’s floating around in some sort of strange bubble of extended unconsciousness, aware of everything and yet absolutely nothing all at the same time.
He isn’t aware of how long he’s stuck in this stage, caught between the realms of the dead and the living, unable to settle in one for too long, before it feels like he’s being pulled down. As if the carpet beneath his feet have been ripped from below him, sending him spiraling until he’s standing within a white room with no doors and no windows.
It all feels a little bit like waking up, embracing some sort of artificial sunlight that takes the form of blinding lights without a source and Jungkook is left alone to walk, touch the walls as the questions spring in his mind like wildflowers. He’s confused, because even though he doesn’t remember dying he knows for a fact that he’s dead and when he pictured afterlife this is certainly not what he had been expecting. Whatever fantasy he may have conjured up in his mind seem a lot more exciting than the confined space of 4 walls, no end in sight.
“You must have a lot of questions right now.”
Jungkook whirls around towards the voice, sprouting from someone he knows could not have been in the room a few seconds ago. But again, he knows he must certainly be dead because how else could someone have appeared within a room with no windows or doors, an eerie quietness drifting and biting at his skin—a previous reminder that he had been alone.
Up until now.
The speaker of the statement is a man behind a desk, hair a short pale blue color and black framed glasses across his face, fingers laced together and folded upon a file. The man is unfamiliar, yet his smile is one of comfort and a vague recognition, and Jungkook could have sworn he’s seen this man before once in his lifetime. Or, at the very least, he trusts this man almost immediately. It could be a naive part of Jungkook’s original nature, but the man has just appeared to him out of thin air, seemingly willing to answer any question Jungkook dare try to speak—and he seems calm.
Jungkook turns to face the man completely. “I died,” He speaks quietly, clearing his voice when it sounds as if he hasn’t had to use it in years, like vocals rubbing against sandpaper.
Fun fact: I had most of these exact clothes and accessories in 2002 during my senior year/early college goth/punk phase. (Though the rest were inspired by my first two boyfriends, who were named, funnily enough, Johnathan and Joseph. Unfortunately not Joestars.)