minorusakura-blog

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“Nevermind, I’ll find someone like” “Jungkook we’re dating, Don’t fin–” “SOMEONE LIKE YOUUUU.”

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bride kook! drabble.

“stop fidgeting.” “don’t tell me what to d-” “jungkook.” “…” biting his lip, jungkook does as he’s told, sits picture-perfect still as seokjin gently ascertains that the minuscule teeth angled into his hair will keep his crown in place. then he draws the fabric forward with equal softness and jungkook is struck – not for the first, and perhaps not the last time – by how kind seokjin is with him. he spaces out thinking about this because the next moment he focuses, seokjin has one hand framing his face, a furrow to his own brow as he peers at jungkook through the translucent material. “you with us?” he asks and jungkook knows he’s just worried. which is also kind of him. though jungkook would rather he not worry at all. “okay then,” he says and then draws his hand away like a whisper. jungkook leans into the phantom warmth, trying to calm himself and not quite succeeding. his hands are white knuckled grips on his knees, ruining the crisp lines of his trousers and it’s all he can do not to want to yell at himself but he knows that will do no one a lot of good. the way he bows his head sends the veil cascading in clouds over his shoulders and it’s beautiful. this, seokjin can see but seokjin can always see jungkook at his core: pretty all the time from the inside-out. it would be a bit of a lie to say something in him isn’t a little sad on this day. but mostly he’s happy. happy for his friends. happy because love is a real thing even if he himself hasn’t found it in this fashion just yet. jungkook looks up and his eyes are so impossibly big that seokjin thinks what he always thinks: unreal. he’s not wrong. “oh,” the utterance is tiny as jungkook presses his hands up and down his moon white jacket, more and more frantic with each half-second until seokjin steps forward to still his movements and stare him down. “you’re panicking.” “i can’t find—” seokjin can hold both of jungkook’s wrists with one hand, so he uses the other to reach into his own pocket, procuring a sharply folded piece of origami paper. “oh,” again. “right.” and then, “th-thanks.” it’s silly in a way. jungkook has all the words on this tiny piece of paper memorized. even if he didn’t, he would have plenty to say about his fiance; but the paper was meant to spare their small and intimate congregation. because jungkook could speak on the fly for actual days about min yoongi; he could, perhaps, talk for weeks but no one has time for that really. even jungkook himself, assuming he wants to remain gainfully employed. so he boiled it down to one sheet of origami paper in the tiniest of handwriting. 

beneath his veil, jungkook feels strangely safe. he knows that there may be some odd looks for the fact that other than the veil and small almost invisible crown it is attached to – more of a circlet truly – he is wearing a white suit. but the veil is more than its physicality. “it was my mom’s,” jungkook explained to a curious seokjin several months prior. back then it was just the draping material, ethereal and originally meant to be affixed in long beautiful hair that jungkook did not have. so seokjin fashioned him a modest crown to weave it along instead, and here they are – seokjin sending him the kind of knowing smile that makes jungkook’s ears turn red to this very day. “you look great,” he says and means: you look perfect. “thank you,” jungkook says and means: for everything. seokjin reaches out to delicately smooth one errant jut of the veil where static has caused it to pitch out a little, hums fondly and says, “any time.” * when yoongi lifts the veil, he does so with reverence and it’s not like they’ve never kissed. it’s not like this is new. but yoongi leans in, angles their mouths together and smiles. and something is different. good different. ‘mine all mine’ different. yoongi kisses him, their hands tangling pressed warm between their chests where their hearts beat fast, faster, fastest; and the veil holds them both in, holds them close like a blessing that makes promises it can keep. “congratulations,” jungkook whisper laughs against yoongi’s lips, and outright giggles when yoongi lowers his mouth to the corner of his jaw. “thanks,” he says and it sounds the way yoongi always sounds when he says 'thank you’ to jungkook – for years now; years –, sounds like: i love you. i love you like i didn’t know i could love someone. so thanks. thanks.

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married and thoughtful drabble in tune with this one

this modern love

“remember that?” in the bend of his arm jungkook is a warm, comfortable weight that shifts just enough so that jungkook can press his nose to yoongi’s collarbone, close his eyes and drift the same as the sun slowly rising overhead. “mm,” he confirms and for a while yoongi thinks that’s all he’ll get (which would be fine; they have time now, miracle of miracles) but then he feels jungkook blink – the delicate drag of his eyelashes along yoongi’s skin, feels him breathe slow deep soft. “of course i remember.” it’s not jungkook’s words so much as the weight of them, how yoongi feels if he were to reach out his hands to grasp them they would bring him to his knees in a hurry. this and the bruised silence has him tugging jungkook up with him until they are sitting, the sheets still an artless tangle half around yoongi and half around jungkook. the balcony of their room is open to the sea but so high up the only paparazzi they need worry about is the sun, the clouds, and the birds in feather-light formations gliding by. yesterday was rainy so the ocean scent mixes with the residual mist of fresh water and it’s relaxing even if his husband’s voice right now isn’t. yoongi curves his hands under jungkook’s elbows to turn him better to face him, ghosts their mouths together in a silent venture to entice jungkook to use more words. over the years they have gotten better at it, and it’s a thing they did not realize for the longest time that they had to improve on in the first place, because their core nature and gravity had come so easily. “i mean,” jungkook says and yoongi’s eyes flicker to the white veil draped with all due respect and love on the hotel dresser. next to it: jungkook’s bouquet which they meant to hang up the night prior but forgot in lieu of being what seokjin affectionately calls “embarrassingly hung up on each other.” lavender, white lilies, white roses, and snowdrops. an unconventional assembly and yet it said everything it needed to say and when jungkook lifted them to press his nose along the myriad petals, yoongi regretted not having his camera; but having both hands so at home on jungkook’s hips more than made up for it. the mind’s eye is the first camera and yoongi never forgets it. will never forget this. so when jungkook says he remembers with such hesitation, he has to pursue. under a sky full of moon, stars, and song, namjoon married them and it doesn’t feel so different but maybe it’s not supposed to. yoongi brushes along the scar jungkook will carry forever, thumbs up to the corner of one doe eye and says, “hm?” “i thought,” jungkook says and stops. yoongi watches: how jungkook bites his lip, how jungkook runs his tongue along his lower teeth nervously, how jungkook loses years and looks younger all over again, how jungkook meets his gaze then runs from it by lowering his forehead to yoongi’s shoulder where he breathes breathes breathes, says softly, “you smell like my bouquet.” the sound yoongi makes is impossibly fond. “because someone braided lavender in my hair. i think it’s still there…” yoongi raises a hand to pat at his own hair experimentally and sure enough he can feel the little additions but he makes no move to unweave them. jungkook inhales heavily and it makes yoongi so warm; so home; so real. the day may never come that he feels he deserves this happiness, but he is old enough now – selfish enough – to admit: he’ll always take what jungkook is willing to give him. after a while, jungkook tries again, twists his hands in the sheets where they’re pooled at the top of yoongi’s thigh. “i thought…” he pauses and scrunches his eyes shut. “ithoughtyoudidn'tlikemeanymore.” there are scarier words. at least these are history. but they hurt anyway; the way backward glances often do. “what?” yoongi leans back so that jungkook has to lift his head and he doesn’t want to force him to do anything he doesn’t want to ever but he has to be able to see him. has to be able to be seen by him. needs. “you wouldn’t talk to me,” the way jungkook speaks is like an apology because he knows where they are now, knows What they are now. knows who he himself is. what he wants. how much. how long. how high the moon. he knows. but he’s already started and to stop now would be no better than a lie. he fumbles for one of yoongi’s hands, brings it to his lips and kisses each fingertip to calm himself between his words. “you were weird,” he says. “but sometimes you weren’t. i kept waiting…” he trails off, his nose flush to yoongi’s wrist where a soap smell is quite strong and makes jungkook feel safe and acknowledged even though yoongi being generally quite hygienic doesn’t have much to do with that. some things just work out. he’s thinking along those lines when yoongi says, “i didn’t mean to be.” when jungkook looks up, yoongi’s eyes are fierce and a little wet and oh. jungkook kisses his mouth with all of his heart, crawls up over him until yoongi is flat under him where jungkook can more easily trail apologies across his cheek throat shoulder arm wrist hand just– –everywhere he has a word for him, which is in fact Everywhere. “it’s okay,” jungkook tells him and yoongi pulls at his shoulders so jungkook brings himself nose to nose again. “it’s not. don’t say that,” yoongi says and wonders if this is how most newlyweds spend their mornings; then decides it doesn’t matter. “we figured it out, is all i mean,” jungkook says and then, blinking down at him, adds, “wait a sec.” he climbs off of yoongi (to yoongi’s discontent, because then yoongi is cold and, worse, shatteringly lonely) only to return fast (as if he knows, as if he always knows.) “sit up.” yoongi listens the way he doesn’t listen for anyone else and is caught off-guard when white flutters down in front of his eyes. “what–” “i just wanted to see,” jungkook says and his smile is that half-smile yoongi loves just as much as his whole smile – the upward tic of his mouth that says not all thoughts are for every person but for You there are maybe a few more worth sharing. the flash of white teeth that can play soft or sharp and yoongi will take all of them; every way. the circlet sits naturally enough on yoongi’s head but the veil obscures jungkook from him which just won’t do. nothing shy of telepathy, jungkook parts the material and it’s such a small motion, the tiniest of things, but the grace is that of a dance or a song and god– –“i love you,” yoongi says in a gasp. it’s apropos of nothing except Being together but the rest he maybe should have said a long time ago, lets his mouth rest in a warm trust against jungkook’s cheek as he says, “back then. before then. now. i fucking love you and i–” he pauses. so many things could go here: i wish i’d handled it better, wish i wasn’t so worried about all of the eyes on us, i wish. but past tense isn’t what he wants this morning to be about. so yoongi raises his hands to lift the veil so that it balances half on him and half on jungkook, the feather white translucence like a whisper turned tangible. he looks into wide eyes and sees worlds and thinks how he would go to every one for this person, says finally, “i. i won’t do that to you ever again.” and, knowing yoongi is not the type to make promises he cannot keep, jungkook feels an old stone in his heart remake itself into an anchor. exhales. minutes pass and outside the ocean is a steady love while inside so are they. eventually, jungkook feathers his fingertips from yoongi’s wrist all the way up to his shoulder, and says, “hey yoongi.” his husband covers that hand with his own, falls a little more in love and says, “what?” jungkook smiles. says, “kiss me.”

and yoongi?  yoongi does.

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HAHAHAHAHAH

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this particular smile, tho.

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💓💕💖💗💘💝💞💟❣️

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this particular smile, tho.

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the tunnel was too short so staff had to push this happy kid on a cart (◠‿◠✿)

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the tunnel was too short so staff had to push this happy kid on a cart (◠‿◠✿)

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he’s so cute when he panics

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lazy afternoon w boyfriend jungkook 🏞

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~

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Give him what he want..

still a baby 🐰

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