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page-isa · 6 days ago

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I will never get over them. Not me rolling and kicking my legs out of excitement...

THE ART OF PRETENDING - JJK | 05

summary. when you and jungkook show up to your much anticipated graduation trip and realise neither of you had the guts to tell your friends about your recent break up, there’s only one thing you can do to keep the trip from falling apart: pretend.

but somewhere between fake kisses and real feelings, you start to wonder if letting go was ever the right choice at all.

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre/warnings: exes to lovers, fake dating, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, (eventual) explicit sexual content, swearing, alcohol consumption, kissing, making out (?), you guys are gonna hate me lolol, reader and jk are both stupid, ft. seokjin, namjoon, hoseok, jimin, taehyung, yoongi + four female ocs

word count: 8.1k

notes: i did NOT think this would take this long, i’m so sorry angels :< as always, like, comments, reblogs, feedback and asks are so appreciated!!! enjoy reading <33

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⤷ chapter five — anything

i don’t wanna talk about anything / i wanna kiss, kiss you eyes again / wanna witness your eyes lookin’

You wake up to warmth.

It takes you a second to realise it’s not the kind that comes from the sun bleeding through the sheer curtains. It’s heavier than that. Warmer. It smells like the detergent he always uses, that subtle citrus blend you used to make fun of for being “too clean.” You shift slightly; not enough to stir anything, but just enough to check.

Yep. That’s his arm, still draped across your waist.

He’s curled behind you, breathing steady, chest rising and falling against your back. One of his legs has somehow found its way tangled with yours. His grip on you is loose, almost lazy, like even in sleep, he doesn't want to let go — but he would if you pulled away.

You don’t.

Your pillow is soft, but his chest was softer last night. You remember the way he just climbed into bed, half-drunk, barely conscious, and slung his arm around you. No hesitation. No asking. Just like nothing had changed.

And maybe, for a second, you’d let yourself pretend that was true.

Now, in the stillness of early morning, there’s something terrifyingly comforting about his hold. About the way your bodies fit together so seamlessly, like no time had passed at all.

And you can feel the small ache in your chest — the part of you that misses him so much you're not sure how to deal with it.

You miss the way he sleeps like he’s protecting you from something. You miss the way his warmth settles over you like a blanket. You miss... him.

Your hand twitches, like it wants to reach for his, but you don't move — you don't want to break the moment.

So you just stay still, letting yourself exist in the space between what was and what could’ve been. Letting yourself remember, even if just for a minute, what it felt like to be loved by him without question.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, eyes half-lidded and mind floating somewhere between sleep and something a little too close to dreaming.

Eventually, his breathing shifts.

Not a lot — just the kind of subtle change that lets you know he’s slipping out of sleep. His chest rises a little deeper, his fingers twitch once at your side, and you feel the slight tension in his leg where it’s tangled with yours.

You keep your eyes closed.

He doesn’t move immediately. In fact, for a second, you think maybe he’s still asleep after all. But then you feel it: the tiniest brush of his thumb against the hem of your shirt.

You hear him breathe in, a little sharper this time. Not quite a gasp, but close. The kind of inhale people take when they suddenly remember where they are, and who they’re with.

Then his voice, low and scratchy with sleep, murmurs near your ear, “Still drool in your sleep?”

You scoff, caught off guard, and shove at his arm without really meaning it.

“No,” you mutter, voice thick, “but you still snore.”

There’s a quiet laugh behind you. It's barely there, a warm exhale more than anything else, but it vibrates faintly through his chest where it rests against your back. It feels nice, but too easy. Like a bad habit.

Then, silence.

Another beat passes, and you can feel the change the moment it happens. Like something clicks back into place for him. His arm retracts slowly, the weight of it disappearing from around your waist. He shifts back a few inches — not a lot, but enough to put space where there hadn’t been any for hours.

You feel the loss immediately.

Your skin feels cooler where he was, your body suddenly too aware of the places that were warm just seconds ago. You don’t move. Don’t look at him. You just stare at the soft curve of light on the wall in front of you and pretend you don’t miss the closeness already.

“Sorry,” he says under his breath, barely audible. “Didn’t mean to... yeah.”

You nod, still facing forward. “It’s fine.”

But it’s not. Not really.

He sits up slowly, the mattress dipping under his weight as he pulls his legs over the edge of the bed. You don’t turn around, but you can hear the way he rubs at his face with his hands, the quiet sound of palms dragging over skin.

“Sun’s already up,” he says, like you hadn’t noticed.

You hum in agreement, but you don’t say anything else.

He sits there on the edge of the bed for a second, then lets out a groan. "Fuck," he mutters. "How much did I drink last night?"

You shift slightly on the mattress, just enough to catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. His hair’s a mess, flattened on one side and sticking up in soft waves on the other. It makes you smile.

“Judging by the way you came in here like a tranquilised bear? Enough.”

He huffs a sound that might be a laugh, head hanging low. “Figures.”

He pushes himself up with a grunt, standing slow like the weight of being vertical is a little too much this early. There’s a faint crease across his cheek from the pillow, another on the side of his neck where the blanket must’ve bunched up under him. He scratches absently at his jaw, eyes still droopy.

You don’t say anything, and he doesn’t look at you.

He just stands there for a beat, arms loose at his sides, before murmuring, “I’m gonna go see if there’s coffee. You want anything?”

You finally roll over, propping yourself up on one elbow just in time to see him standing by the door, his hair messy and eyes avoiding yours.

You hesitate. “Coffee sounds good.”

He gives a small nod. “Okay.”

The door clicks softly behind him, and you’re alone in the room again. The only evidence he was ever there is the indent on the mattress beside you and the faint trace of citrus still lingering in the air.

You sigh, falling back against the pillow.

You hate how badly you already want him to come back.

The small Hello Kitty sticker on the side of Jungkook’s helmet is still there.

It’s barely hanging on now, faded from years of sun and road and rain, peeling slightly at the edge like it's just waiting for someone to come along and pull it off for good. But no one ever has. Not even him.

You remember the day you put it there. It was in your third year of college, and he’d just bought the bike and rolled it into the lot, grinning proudly. He was already talking about road trips; about escaping the city and taking you everywhere just because he knew how much you loved travelling. You’d pulled the sticker from your phone case and pressed it onto the side of the helmet before he could say anything.

He’d groaned. You’d grinned. He kept it.

And now, here you are — arms wrapped around him as the motorbike hums down the road toward town, your legs pressed tight against his. You ignore the overwhelming urge to press your cheek against his back and just relax against him.

The wind is warm, laced with salt. You feel it push through your clothes and tangle your hair, but most of all, you feel him — solid in front of you, body moving in sync with the turns. His shirt is damp with heat, and your fingers rest lightly against the fabric, careful not to hold too tight.

But you want to.

You feel his breath shift when the town comes into view, a small stretch of painted buildings and narrow streets nestled between the coastline and the hills. It’s beautiful — chipped and colourful, with flags strung between rooftops and open-air shops spilling out into the street.

He pulls into a spot near the edge of the square and cuts the engine. For a second, neither of you move. Your arms are still around him. Your chest is still mere centimetres away from his back. The silence settles in like heat.

When you finally slip off the bike, the world feels too bright. You run a hand through your hair, trying to tame the wind-tangled strands, and glance back just in time to see Jungkook unbuckle his helmet and set it on the seat. The sticker catches the light. So does his smile — soft, and slightly crooked as he smoothens the edges.

You take a few steps toward the square, eyes scanning the little street corners and shaded storefronts. There’s a carved wooden sign hanging from a crooked beam, and beside it, a wire rack of postcards spinning lazily in the breeze.

But no sign of Ari. Or Namjoon.

Which is funny because it was Ari who had convinced you to come down here in the first place.

You’d been perfectly content by the beach, book in hand, half-asleep in the sun, but she’d tugged you up and kept begging you to come with her until you finally gave in.

To be fair, she did have a good reason; the house was running critically low on groceries.

Somehow, she’d managed to convince Jungkook too — which honestly, you're glad about because there's nothing you hate more than third wheeling a happy couple — but no one else was swayed enough to tag along.

And now, she's the one that's late.

You shade your eyes with your hand and glance further down the street.

“They said they’d meet us here, right?” you ask, finally.

Your voice is quiet. You’re not even sure if it’s meant to break the silence or just soften it.

Jungkook lifts his phone halfway, thumb tapping the screen like it’s muscle memory. “Yeah,” he says, not looking up right away. “Ah, Namjoon just texted me there. They just got here, so they’re probably still looking for parking or something. He said they'll meet us eventually."

You nod once and step away from the curb, eyes trailing the narrow stretch of market street ahead. Sunlight glints off the tin roofs. There’s the murmur of voices, the occasional clink of glass, and the low thrum of a radio somewhere playing a song you don’t recognise but vaguely like.

Jungkook falls in beside you without a word.

A couple passes going the opposite way, their hands intertwined. You glance down at yours.

“We should probably start,” he says after a beat. “Since they’ll just meet us.”

You shrug. “You have the list, right?”

He unlocks his phone again and scrolls. “Yeah. Ari texted it to me this morning.”

“What’s on it?”

He reads as you both start walking again. “Eggs, lemons, bread. Peaches. Some kind of pasta. And then she added ‘whatever fruit looks pretty.’”

“What's that supposed to mean," you say, amusement lacing your voice.

"No idea."

You break off from the main road, following a shaded lane lined with uneven cobblestones and quieter stalls. The air’s a little cooler here, less crowded, the noise of the market fading to a background hum. You walk slowly, letting your shoulders drop, adjusting the tote bag looped over your arm as it shifts with the weight of everything you’ve already picked up.

So far: a bundle of slightly overripe peaches, a paper-wrapped loaf of bread, lemons, and some fresh mango juice.

Jungkook had gone to find water in some corner café he'd spotted, and you’d just nodded and wandered a little further on your own, not really thinking about where your feet were taking you.

Now, you’re standing in front of a narrow stall tucked between a linen vendor and a rack of second-hand books, and the table in front of you is lined with jewellery.

Nothing fancy — just a board of earrings propped on the table, arranged in uneven rows on pale linen. Some dangle, some are simple studs. Silver, gold, brushed metal, the occasional coloured stone.

You scan them slowly, half out of habit. You’ve been keeping an eye out since yesterday, hoping you might stumble across something like the ones you lost, but nothing here is quite right. Too ornate, too polished, too intentionally handmade.

Though, one pair does catch your eye: small hoops with a single pearl hanging from it. They're pretty.

You don’t pick them up.

Just stand there, letting the edge of your bag dig slightly into your shoulder, the sun hitting your arms in slow patches between the slats of the awning overhead.

The vendor is older, seated on a stool in the corner, half-hidden behind a stack of folded cloth. She doesn’t greet you. Just watches, quiet and patient, a thread of silver hair slipping from behind her ear.

You tuck your hands into your pockets, shift your weight to the other foot.

The earrings catch the light when you shift your stance — just a soft glint where the pearl curves beneath the hoop. You stare at them a second longer than you mean to, thumb brushing the strap of the tote against your hip.

“Pretty,” someone says behind you.

You blink, half-turn.

There’s a guy standing just outside the edge of the stall, arms crossed loosely over his chest, sunglasses pushed up into his hair.

You offer a polite nod.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he says. “You just looked kind of... focused.”

You shrug. “Just browsing.”

He steps closer.

“Any good finds?”

Your hand tightens slightly around the bag handle. “I’m just looking at earrings.”

His eyes flick to the table like he hadn’t actually noticed it until now. “Right. The pearls are cute. I could see them on you.”

You don’t answer. Just shift your weight, subtly angling your body away.

He doesn’t pick up on it. Or maybe he does and doesn’t care.

“You from around here?” he asks, like he’s picking up a conversation that was never started.

You glance down the alley, scanning for a glimpse of Jungkook, but it’s still quiet — just the linen swaying in the heat, a burst of laughter carrying from somewhere across the square.

“No,” you say, clipped.

He smiles like that was the answer he wanted. “Yeah, figured. You’ve got that kind of—” he gestures vaguely. “Not-local look.”

You’re not sure what that means. You don’t ask.

“Vacation?” he tries again.

You glance back at the table, pretending to study a thin necklace you’re not really looking at. “I’m waiting for someone.”

The guy hums, still standing there.

“Boyfriend?” he asks, almost like it's a joke. Like he already knows what he thinks the answer is.

You don’t look at him. “Yeah.”

Another beat passes.

And he says, “Don’t see him.”

You square your shoulders slightly, still not facing him.

“I told you, I'm waiting for him. I don’t need company,” you say.

He lets out a little laugh. “I’m just making conversation.”

You press your lips together and turn, this time fully, eyes meeting his just long enough to say I’m done.

And still, he lingers.

But his smile falters for a brief second, almost as if he’s not used to not being smiled at. Not used to being dismissed.

“Look,” he says again, something shifting under his voice now — flatter, slightly annoyed, like he’s decided you’re being difficult for no reason.

You stay silent, eyes on the earrings, jaw tight.

For a second, you think about just walking away. Heading back through the stalls, finding a different corner to browse that doesn’t come with commentary and unwanted company. You should’ve just stayed with Jungkook. Should’ve waited by the fruit stand like you said you would instead of wandering off like this.

You shift your weight again, about to turn to walk away when you hear the easy scrape of sneakers against stone behind you.

Relief blooms in your chest as the steady weight of Jungkook's palm settles low on your back.

“Hey baby,” he says, voice smooth, a little softer than it needs to be. “Sorry, it took forever.”

You turn toward him instinctively, letting your shoulder brush his chest, relief flooding through you.

Jungkook doesn’t look at you. His attention is on the guy, who’s already taking a step back.

The stranger raises an eyebrow, trying for a laugh. “Didn’t realise she was taken.”

Jungkook’s tone doesn’t change. “She is.”

You don’t pull away.

The guy looks between the two of you — sizing up, maybe, but the math’s already been done. He’s not stupid. He huffs a small breath through his nose and nods, like this was all just a misunderstanding.

“All good,” he says, and turns to walk off.

Only once he’s out of sight do you finally breathe. Jungkook’s hand stays where it is.

“Fucker,” you mutter, glancing back toward the street. “I literally fucking told him I had a boyfriend.”

Jungkook smiles — a quiet, amused curve of his mouth, like he’s holding back more than he’s saying.

“You delivered it well,” he says. “Had me convinced.”

You shoot him a look, but your irritation is already starting to melt at the sight of him.

“I should’ve thrown a lemon at him.”

“You did buy extra.”

That pulls a genuine laugh from you, and he hands you the water bottle like nothing happened at all. His fingers graze yours — not long enough to mean anything, but long enough to notice.

You take a sip.

“Thanks,” you say.

He nods once, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “Comes with the role, right?” He nudges your arm lightly with his elbow. “Acting boyfriend of the year.”

You raise a brow, lips curving. “Please, you’re barely qualified.”

"Uhm, ouch?"

You laugh again, leaning into the teasing by gently nudging his side.

Jungkook shifts beside you, elbow lightly brushing yours as he nods toward the side of the stall. “You know what we should get?”

You glance over at him, the corners of your mouth twitching. “What?”

He tips his chin toward a tray tucked beside the earrings — a neat line of woven bracelets laid out in rows, some beaded, some braided, some with tiny charms strung through the middle like afterthoughts. “Matching couple bracelets.”

Your brow lifts. “That’s bold.”

He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Just saying. That way, if someone else tries to come up to you again, you can just lift your wrist or something. Plus, it'll get Ari off your ass.”

You look down at the bracelets. Most of them are simple. Worn leather cords. Clay beads in dusky colours. A few pale shells strung on white string. The kind of thing you would’ve scoffed at years ago. Now… you kind of like the idea.

Still, you don’t let him off that easy.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you say slowly, reaching out to nudge one with your finger. It rolls in place, beads clicking softly against the table. Then, a beat later, you glance sideways at him. “You know, if you want to match with me… you could just say that.”

He scoffs under his breath, but his mouth curves like you’ve caught him. “I literally just did.”

You smile without meaning to. “No, you disguised it as self-defense.”

He leans a little closer, voice low and casual like he’s letting you in on something. “Well, your safety is my top priority.”

“Sure,” you say, dragging out the word. “Let’s pretend that’s the reason.”

Jungkook holds up both hands like he’s innocent. “Hey, if matching bracelets keep weird guys away and makes us more convincing to everyone else, I think we’ve found the perfect investment.”

You roll your eyes, but your hand lingers over one of the pairs — two braided threads in muted navy and cream. His gaze follows yours, and you don’t miss the way his fingers brush close to yours when he reaches to pick them up.

He turns one over in his hand, quiet for a moment. “These okay?”

You meet his eyes. “Yeah. They’re nice.”

He pays for them — slipping a few folded bills to the vendor without looking at you — and you don’t stop him. You just put out your hand and let him tie it around your wrist, before doing the same for him.

You both linger for a second after the knots are tied, wrists side by side, the new bracelets snug against your skin. His fingers ghost over yours when he lets go.

“See?” he says, voice soft. “Official now.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile tugs at your lips anyway. You’re not sure if it's from the joke or the fact that he hasn’t stepped away yet.

Then his phone buzzes in his pocket, breaking whatever invisible thread was hanging between you.

He pulls it out, thumb swiping across the screen. His eyes flick across the message.

“It’s Namjoon,” he says. “They’re around the corner, by that little gelato place.”

You nod, ready to follow, but before you can move, Jungkook slips his hand into yours.

The movement is so smooth, so casual, like it’s nothing. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His fingers lace between yours with practiced ease, like they’ve done a thousand times before — because they have.

Your breath catches for half a second, but you don’t pull away.

He starts walking, gently tugging you along behind him, navigating through the narrow alley like he knows exactly where to go. His grip is firm but easy, thumb brushing once against the back of your hand as he adjusts your pace to match his.

And fuck, how you've missed this.

By the time you, Jungkook, Ari, and Namjoon made it back from town, everyone had drifted to the beach, bottles already half empty in hand. Naturally, the four of you joined in almost immediately.

Now, the sun hangs low over the ocean, melting slow into the horizon, throwing streaks of deep orange and pale lilac across the sky. The sand beneath you is warm, still holding onto the heat of the day, and the breeze smells like burnt sugar from someone’s abandoned marshmallow.

There’s a bonfire going, and everyone’s settled in a loose sprawl around it, feet kicked up, shoes long since discarded. Blankets are half-buried in the sand, and there's a speaker somewhere playing a random song no one has bothered to skip.

Seokjin and Haeun are curled together near the fire, trading sips of something dark from a flask. Taehyung’s stretched out with his head in Yasmine’s lap, sunglasses still on, despite the sun being nearly gone. Namjoon’s half-asleep, leaning back on his elbows and arguing about constellations with Hoseok.

Jungkook sits beside you. His legs are stretched out, knees bent, one arm hooked around the neck of a bottle he hasn’t touched in a while. There’s a subtle red glow along the edge of his cheek from the firelight. He’s watching the flames, brow relaxed, and you wonder if he’s even noticed how close your knee is to his.

You’re three drinks past tipsy. Four, maybe. Whatever the number is, it stopped mattering after the second time you laughed so hard your face hurt. Your skin feels flushed, limbs loose, everything a little too loud and a little too lovely.

You’re holding a glass in your hand and when you tip it back, only a lukewarm sip greets you. You shake the glass above your mouth, trying to summon more, but you only manage a few drops.

You glance around. Taehyung is still holding a beer, someone else’s drink sits forgotten near a towel, but the vodka — the one you’d claimed earlier, the one you’ve been nursing all night — is gone. Empty. Bottle tossed sideways near Kiara’s ankle.

You frown, squinting at it like it might magically refill if you look disappointed enough.

“We’re out,” you announce.

Your voice comes out rougher than you expect. The circle barely reacts — just a few shrugs, a lazy groan from someone too comfortable to care.

You push your hands against the sand and slowly rise to your feet, not bothering to brush it off your legs. The world tips, then steadies.

“I’ll grab more,” you say, already turning toward the path that leads back up the beach, toward the house.

Jungkook shifts next to you.

His voice is calm, but something in it feels closer. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

You pause, glance over your shoulder. He’s looking at you now, legs still stretched out in front of him, hand still around the neck of the bottle — but his focus is sharp. You tilt your head, expression loose.

“What, you think I’m gonna fall into a bush?”

He raises his eyebrows slightly. “I’m saying I’ve seen you trip over air.”

You roll your eyes, already turning back toward the path. “I’ll be fine.”

Jungkook exhales through his nose — just the smallest huff of a sound — then pushes up from the sand with a groan. He dusts off the back of his jeans, tossing the bottle onto a towel.

“Wait up,” he says, catching up to you in a few easy strides. “I’ll come.”

You pause again, frowning faintly. “You don’t have to.”

“You’re drunk,” he says simply, meeting your eyes like that should be the whole argument.

It kind of is.

You shrug, not really fighting him on it. “Fine. But you’re carrying the new bottle.”

“Deal,” he says, and you’re already walking again, sand shifting under your feet as the last of the sun bleeds into the sea behind you.

The path up from the beach isn’t long, but it stretches just enough to make you feel the weight of your steps. You walk beside him in silence at first, the kind that’s filled with the hush of your own breath and the faint pop and crackle of the fire behind you.

He walks a step behind you at first, and you can feel the rhythm of his footsteps syncing to yours.

“Still think I’m gonna trip?” you mutter, not looking back.

“I’ve seen you fall off a curb while standing still,” he says, casual.

“That was one time.”

He huffs a soft laugh. “Sure it was.”

You glance at him over your shoulder, and his mouth pulls into that crooked grin that used to mean everything to you.

It still might.

When you reach the edge of the porch, you pause to shake the sand from your ankles. He opens the screen door with one hand, letting you step through first without a word.

The air inside the house is cooler, shadows stretching across the walls where the sun hasn’t fully let go. The hum of distant music still trails in from the beach, muffled now, wrapped in layers of wood and silence.

You kick your shoes off at the door and Jungkook follows behind you.

The kitchen light is off, but there’s enough ambient glow from the setting sun through the windows to see. You move toward the counter on autopilot, stepping over someone’s forgotten hoodie on the floor. Your body’s loose, hips swinging slightly as you walk, unbothered by how your tank top’s ridden up a little from the waistband of your shorts.

Jungkook makes a soft noise behind you, like he’s about to say something, but doesn’t. Instead, he goes to the sink, running the tap and filling a glass.

You find the stash of liquor tucked behind the blender. Whoever stocked the place has questionable taste — peach schnapps, a half-full bottle of cheap whiskey, something unlabelled that smells like danger. But the vodka’s there, unopened. Cold from the fridge.

You pull it out with a small victorious sound and place it on the counter with a thud. The bottle’s condensation beads against your fingers.

Jungkook sets the glass of water down beside you and leans his hip against the counter.

“Drink that first,” he says, nudging the water toward you.

You groan, but reach for it anyway, your fingers brushing against his. They linger longer than they need to. You don’t move them.

“Responsible,” you murmur, bringing the glass to your lips. “Since when are you the responsible one?”

“Since you decided to replace dinner with mango juice and vodka.”

You hum at that, taking a slow sip. The water’s ice-cold, and the chill hits your throat all the way down, sharp enough to make you blink.

He watches you swallow, jaw flexing slightly.

“You’re staring,” you say, teasing, eyes glinting under the dim light.

“You’re drunk.”

“You said that already.”

“I’ll say it again if you keep looking at me like that.”

You laugh, short and soft, setting the glass down a little too forcefully. Some water sloshes over the side and you don't even care.

“I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Liar.”

You tilt your head and smile, stepping closer, into his space. Your arm brushes against his. He doesn’t step back.

He smells like sun and sea and a little like smoke, and the sharpness of the scent makes your chest tighten. You lean your hip against the counter, closer now, your shoulder touching his as you both look at the bottle between you like it’s something important.

“You look good,” you say, and your voice is low — blurry with the buzz in your blood, but not slurred. Just honest.

He glances down at you, one brow raising, like he’s surprised but not really. “You’re drunk,” he repeats, gentler this time.

You shrug. “Still true.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything.

Not right away.

He just stands there, eyes still on yours, like he's waiting for something — waiting for you to laugh, maybe. To wave it off. Turn away. But you don’t. You stay close. Too close. The air between you is warm and still, humming with something you don’t want to name. Not yet.

And maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the way the last of the sunset catches in his lashes, turning the brown of his eyes molten — but you swear, for a second, his gaze drops to your lips.

Your heart beats harder than it should. Like it’s thinking louder than your brain.

You shift, just slightly, your hand coming down to rest on the counter beside his. Your pinky brushes his. The silence stretches, heavy and soft, and you can feel your own pulse pressing up against your ribs like it’s trying to claw out.

Jungkook’s breath hitches.

It’s quiet — so quiet you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t already tracking everything about him. The slight shift in the set of his jaw. The way his fingers twitch once, like they want to move but don’t. He’s still watching you, still breathing like he’s trying not to let it show. But his gaze drops to your lips again and you're certain you're not imagining it this time.

“You’re drunk,” he says again, softer this time. Like he’s reminding himself.

You blink, slow and lazy, like the weight of the moment is pressing down behind your eyes. But you don’t move away. Don’t close the gap.

“Not that drunk,” you murmur, and it’s not a defense. It’s the truth, or close enough. You know how you feel. Know what you want.

Still, he hesitates.

His hand lifts like he wants to touch you — your arm, your waist, your jaw, something — but he doesn’t let it land. It just hovers there in the space between you, fingers flexing slightly. Like he’s waiting for permission. Or maybe for you to step back. Like he’s giving you one last chance not to want this.

But you don’t step back.

You hold still and let the silence stretch, taut as a wire between you.

“I don’t want you to regret anything,” he says.

You tilt your head, just a little. The corner of your mouth curls — not quite teasing, not quite sweet. “Then make sure I don't.”

That does it.

Something in him cracks. Or maybe he just exhales, finally, after holding his breath for weeks, months, too long.

He leans in.

And when he kisses you, it’s soft. So soft it makes your chest ache.

His lips brush yours like he’s scared you’ll disappear. Like he’s scared he’ll ruin it if he pushes too hard. His hand finally settles at your waist, the touch almost featherlight. You let your eyes fall shut as your fingers curl against the counter’s edge, your breath catching.

You’re not thinking clearly — not really. Your thoughts are cotton-wrapped and soft at the edges. The vodka, the heat, the way his lips feel on yours — it’s all tangled together now. You should probably be more careful with this. You should probably be thinking harder, asking him the all the questions that have been clawing at the back of your throat since the moment you two ended before letting this happen.

But you don’t want to. Not tonight.

You don’t want to pick this apart or hold it up to the light. Not when it feels like this. Not when his hands are on your waist, not when your mouth still feels like his.

Not when you’re this close to feeling whole again.

So you let it go.

Just for now.

You kiss him back slowly, deliberately, mouth parting just enough to deepen it. And when you do, he melts. A little. Just enough to let you feel the want he’s been trying not to show. The way he leans into you like he’s been waiting for this, needing this, and now that he has it, he’s terrified to let it go.

His hand at your waist grips tighter, pulling you in, and your chest brushes his. You slide one hand up to the side of his neck, your thumb brushing the curve of his throat, and he shivers under it, like the touch unravels him.

He parts your lips with his again, slower this time, and you sigh into his mouth — soft and involuntary and full of everything you haven’t said — and it pull something from him.

Jungkook's kisses turn firmer — still slow, still careful, but less afraid. Like whatever restraint he was holding onto just loosened a little.

You can feel the way his breath catches when your hand slips into his hair. The way he leans into it, barely chasing your touch. His thumb strokes slow, unconscious circles into your waist, and when your lips part again, he meets you there without hesitation.

You kiss him one more time.

Slow, like you’re trying to memorise the shape of it. Like you don’t know when you’ll let yourself have this again.

Then you pull back — not because you want to, but because if you don’t now, you might never.

It’s gentle. Barely a breath of distance. Just enough to meet his eyes, just enough to remember where you are. Your lips still tingle from the press of his, and your fingers stay curled in the fabric at his shoulder, not quite letting go yet.

His eyes flutter open, dazed and soft, and your thumb brushes the edge of his jaw before you drop your hand to your side.

Your lips hover over his, still close enough to feel the heat of him. He exhales, the sound soft and staggered.

“The others are probably waiting,” you murmur, voice low, breath a little unsteady.

His eyes open slowly, gaze heavy-lidded and warm as it settles on you. He doesn’t say anything right away. Just looks at you, like he’s trying to decide if he’s allowed to want this much.

“Let them wait," he mumbles.

You soft giggle leaves your lips at his words and he can't help but smile too, and it's real and a little stupid because of course he’d say that. Of course he’d look at you like that.

Your forehead presses gently to his for just a second, and he doesn’t move, but you feel his hand twitch at your waist, almost as if he’s not sure whether to pull you in again or let you go.

And god, part of you wants to stay. Wants to forget the weight of all the unanswered questions sitting heavy at the bottom of your stomach. Wants to let this keep happening. Just him and you and whatever the fuck this is.

But you don't. Instead, you lean back a little, just enough to get a proper look at him.

He looks dazed. Soft around the edges. His lips are pink, still wet from the kiss, and there’s this look on his face — like you could pull him back in with a single breath and he wouldn’t fight you on it.

Your gaze drops briefly to his mouth, then back up to his eyes before taking a small step back.

Your hand fall from his shirt and you reach for the vodka bottle on the counter. It’s still slick with condensation, and your grip slips slightly before you adjust.

You turn toward the door, feet padding softly against the cool floor, unable to stop smiling.

Jungkook stays behind you for just a breath, before you hear the shuffle of his steps as he follows.

It’s only been a few minutes since you and Jungkook made it back to the fire, vodka bottle in hand and cheeks just a little too flushed.

Now, the two of you sit side by side on a shared blanket, close but not too close, feet stretched out toward the fire. And despite your best efforts, you keep catching each other’s eyes.

It’s stupid. So stupid.

But every time it happens, one of you looks away, smiling.

You’re mid-sip when someone sighs dramatically into the circle, long and loud and theatrical.

“I’m bored,” Kiara announces, collapsing backwards onto a throw pillow someone must’ve stolen from the porch chairs. One arm flops over her face; the other lifts her cup to the sky dramatically

“You’re drunk,” Jimin says, somewhere behind a stack of solo cups. His voice is lazy, amused. “That’s different.”

“Drunk and bored,” she corrects, lifting her head. “Which is objectively worse.”

Someone snorts — maybe Hoseok — and Haeun mumbles something about how this is supposed to be a chill night, how she’s too full to function. You agree — the fire’s burning low, and no one looks like they’re in a rush to do anything.

Except Taehyung, who perks up suddenly, sunglasses still on even though the sun’s been gone for hours.

“We should play something,” he says, too enthusiastic. “Old-school, like we used to. Come on.”

There’s a round of groans — some weak, some performative. A few “nooo”s and a “please don’t make me move” from Namjoon. But Taehyung doesn’t let it die.

“You know what I’m thinking,” he adds, already grinning. “Truth or drink.”

That gets a bigger reaction. Jimin laughs like he’s been waiting for this exact moment all night and Kiara groans and says something you can't quite make out.

Beside you, Jungkook lets out a soft sound that might be a sigh, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You lean back on your palms and squint at the fire.

“No,” you say, not looking up. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on,” Kiara whines, bumping your knee with hers. “It’s for old times’ sake.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung adds, already sitting up straighter, brushing sand from his thighs. “We literally used to play this every other week in college. Don’t act brand new.”

You're opening your mouth to protest and complain some more when Jungkook leans in, voice casual as he says, "I'm in."

You blink, glancing at him just quick enough to catch the faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

With a sigh, you tip the last of your drink back and swallow hard. “Fine,” you say, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. “But I’m not going first.”

Taehyung cheers. Someone claps. The bottle cap twists loose, and suddenly cups are being refilled, rules half-remembered shouted into the dark.

Everyone huddles closer together, and you put out your hands in front of you, letting the warmth of the flame dance across your skin.

Yasmine spins the bottle. It wobbles across the sand, slows, then lands pointing somewhere between Ari and Namjoon.

“Ooooh,” Taehyung says, wiggling his brows. “A couple round already?”

Ari laughs, unbothered. “Hit me.”

Yasmine leans in. “Alright. If you had to kiss someone here who isn’t Namjoon—”

Namjoon throws his hands up. “Wow. First question.”

“—who would it be?”

Ari purses her lips, glancing around the circle dramatically. “Hmm… probably Haeun.”

Haeun immediately covers her face with both hands as everyone laughs, and Seokjin wraps an arm around her, pretending to shield her from further corruption. “Yah, back off,” he says, laughing.

The bottle spins again, this time landing on Jimin.

Ari smirks. “Have you ever made out with someone here and not told the group?”

Jimin lifts his cup halfway with a sigh, freezes, then drinks anyway.

You have a feeling you know who it is, but you don't say anything as Yasmine and Jungkook immediately start yelling over each other.

“Who was it?!” Yasmine demands, eyes wide.

“Seriously, who?” Jungkook adds, pointing his cup at Jimin like he’s about to interrogate him under a spotlight.

"Not telling," Jimin replies in a sing song voice before spinning the bottle.

It slows until it lands squarely on Jungkook.

You glance at him. He doesn’t flinch.

Jimin squints at him, letting out a hum like he’s considering a deep philosophical question. “Alright. What’s your biggest regret?”

You freeze before you can stop yourself.

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. He stares at the bottle. Then at Seokjin. Then, just as calmly, he picks up his cup and takes a drink.

It’s quiet for a beat. Jimin groans. “Lame.”

“Strategic,” Jungkook replies, setting his cup down again.

Without missing a beat, he reaches for the bottle and spins.

It rolls smoothly through the sand before stopping at Kiara.

“Oh god,” she mutters, already bracing herself.

Jungkook’s lips curl into a half-smile. “Weirdest place you’ve fucked.”

Kiara groans, but she’s grinning. “You guys are the worst.”

“Come on,” Yasmine says. “No way you don’t have a good one.”

She sighs, thinking. "Nowhere crazy, just in the back of his car.”

"Boringg," whines Jimin, and Hoseok just laughs as Kiara reaches for the bottle again.

It turns, slowly, then comes to a stop pointed at you.

You tense a little, just for a second. Kiara catches it — she doesn’t say anything, but her smile softens.

She tilts her head. “Would you ever take back an ex?”

You blink.

There’s a beat — just a flicker — where your brain stalls. The question lands soft, not sharp, but it still makes your pulse skip a little. You lean back on your palms and tilt your head toward the fire, letting the heat lick at your cheeks like it might hide the flush.

Then, without much thought, you answer.

“Nah,” you say, casually.

Your tone is light. You smile around the rim of your cup as you take a small sip, and raise your eyebrows at Kiara like it’s a no-brainer. Because, really, what girlfriend is going to say yes to that kind of question when her boyfriend’s sitting two feet away?

Kiara simply shrugs, like she already knew what you'd say and lean forward to spin the bottle. You don't notice who it stops at because you turning to look at Jungkook, a small smile playing on your lips.

You expect him to smile back. Or roll his eyes. Or whisper something stupid, like 'Really? Not even after you made out with him the kitchen?'.

But he doesn’t.

He’s looking at the fire.

His cup is loose in his grip, his thumb brushing over the rim once before going still. He doesn’t make a face. Doesn’t say anything. But there’s something… quiet about him now. Like he’s stepped back from the circle without actually moving.

You blink, puzzled for half a second, but someone’s already laughing at something Jimin said and Kiara’s reaching for the bottle again, so you brush it off and take another sip of your drink.

The fire pops in the background as the questions continue. Someone asks Namjoon what his favourite position is (cowgirl), how many people Haeun has slept with (three), what Yoongi's biggest fantasy it (he chooses to drink).

Eventually, someone mumbles something about calling it, and no one protests. The fire’s burned low, just embers now, and the ocean breeze has started to bite. Haeun's already dragging Seokjin to his feet, Namjoon’s helping Ari brush sand off her pants, and slowly the circle breaks apart.

You push yourself to your feet, arms wobbling a bit as you dust the sand from your shorts. It takes longer than it should. Everything takes longer than it should. You feel warm and floaty and kind of like a loose kite being dragged around by your own legs.

You’d only been asked the one question all night, but you’re pretty sure you’ve had enough to drink for ten.

Jungkook stands next to you. He doesn’t say anything, but when you wobble slightly, the back of his hand brushes yours. You grin down at your feet.

Everyone starts peeling off, drifting toward the cabins in sleepy pairs. Taehyung’s got Yasmine slung across his back like a backpack. Ari’s hanging onto Namjoon’s arm, swaying slightly. Jimin’s halfway through singing something that might be a lullaby. No one seems to care.

You and Jungkook trail behind, still barefoot, shoes forgotten somewhere near the porch.

The path back is quieter than before, but not uncomfortable. You’re humming under your breath — something soft and aimless — and you twirl the near-empty bottle in your hand like it’s a microphone.

Jungkook walks beside you, arms swinging slightly at his sides. He doesn’t say much, but he’s not far. Not ahead. Not behind. Just there. Close enough that your elbows bump once, and you giggle, not even sure why it’s funny.

The stairs creak beneath your feet as you climb up to your bedroom. He opens the door without a word, and you step past him. He follows you in, letting the door swing shut behind him.

The room is dimly lit, and you don't even consider changing into more sleep appropriate clothes before crawling onto the bed.

You hear Jungkook moving around — the soft rustle of his hoodie hitting the chair, the creak of a drawer, the small thud of his water bottle landing on the nightstand beside you. It all feels distant, muffled by your buzzed brain.

You roll over dramatically just as he switches off the light. The room falls into shadows, and then the bed dips beside you as he climbs in.

You grin up at the ceiling.

“This was fun,” you say, voice low but still sing-songy.

Jungkook lets out a little sound in response.

The sheets are cool. The pillow smells like the detergent he always uses. You pull the blanket halfway over yourself and nudge your foot toward his under the covers without even thinking about it.

No words pass between you.

But it doesn’t feel weird. Just sleepy. Soft. Like the good kind of tired that settles behind your eyes after a long night.

You don’t notice how quiet Jungkook’s gone. Don’t notice that he hasn’t moved since lying down. You’re not paying attention to the way he’s staring up at the ceiling, or the way he hasn’t turned toward you at all.

You just let out a small sigh and mumble, “Goodnight, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Then, voice low and barely there, he asks, “Did you mean it?”

You’re already slipping into sleep when he says it — and maybe he’s talking about the game, or something from earlier, or maybe he’s not talking to you at all. You’re too warm, too tired to figure it out, so you just hum quietly and roll over, cheek pressed into the pillow.

He doesn’t say anything else, and the silence settles again.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, the question lingers, but you don’t ask.

You’ll think about it tomorrow.

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#isa yaps ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

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page-isa · 8 days ago

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I am chasing sleep rn. Why can I not sleep when I need to I beg 😓

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page-isa · 9 days ago

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Will you make a story with characters you made someday🤔🤔🤔

I would love to feature some oc's some day (can't guarantee when) but it would be new to me and defo fun to try out <33

#isa yaps ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა #isa’s mailbox જ⁀➴˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

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page-isa · 9 days ago

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Was days ago and still has me tweaking tf out

jungkook new chest tattoo?? i fear im gonna collapse

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page-isa · 11 days ago

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page-isa · 12 days ago

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welcome back namjoon and taehyung

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page-isa · 12 days ago

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taglist - join the taglist here!

@ggukivrse

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏 - 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤

summary: you and Jungkook are no where near being the 'perfect couple', your relationship constantly being on and off. Each time you break up, you always run back to him. Not this time. That is until someone shows up on your doorstep...

pairing: reader x jungkook

word count: 5.2k

content warning: adult characters, fluff, smut (mdni), nipple play, eating out, fingering, arguments, let me know if i missed anything!

authors note: hihi this fanfic is inspired by the song kiss and make up, I really enjoyed writing this one, writing y/n and Jungkook to be really frustrating was so fun (so much that I had to tone it down lol). It's a short one but I hope you enjoy<3

masterlist : taglist : moodboard

Jungkook and you were nowhere near ‘the perfect couple’. You were miles away from being anywhere near the textbook definition. Tension would drip around you like a faulty tap, always playing in the background of your lives. Which never really bothered either of you until it became too much to bear.

When you and Jungkook broke up for the first time, you cried for days on end, devastated at the fact that you had lost the one you had hoped to be with for the rest of your life. Over time, you both decided that you weren't going to last. That didn't stop either of you from making the most of each other, from trips and couple dates to spending all your spare time together.

Of course, the day had gone as usual. Movies played lowly in the living room as you cooked lunch for both of you. The food finished, and you were exhausted, letting your body slump as you both sat down at the table. The crisp bread being cut up filled the room.

Maybe it was the fact that he wore his boots into your apartment, putting dirt on the freshly cleaned floors. Although he was carrying stuff for you, you couldn't help but be irritated.

Or maybe it was the fact that he abandoned you to meet his co-worker. It was halfway through your movie date to meet the girl you never liked – the one you had confronted him about meeting, Lia. The way she kept her hands on his clothes, insisting it was just her “wiping off some dust”. After all this, you still haven't received a thank you for the meal you cooked.

You scrubbed dishes in silence, each squeak of the dishes playing over your anger. The tension was bound to bubble over sooner or later. Like every other time.

“Annoyed again?” he asks. It always feels like he was the one who created the problem, but he never knew what he did. You stop cleaning the dishes and turned to face him. Your eyes worked their way up from the sink. Fixating on his face, clueless and annoyed – annoyed at you, annoyed at you for not saying anything, not knowing what he did. What was there to say? Every single time you did, nothing changed.

“At least try to think about what you’ve done wrong before asking me, or try to apologise for not knowing.” You turn to face him, brows furrowing at his ignorance.

“Is this about Lia again? Come on, love. You're acting like a child. I've told you so many times before that she's just a co-worker I'm close with. Besides, can't there be female and male relationships without anything involved? I never question you and your friends.”

Your mouth automatically gapes. You can't believe him. The ignorance and audacity he has to, for one, not apologise, but two, defend her behaviour. “Are you serious right now? Tell me you're not, and don't call me love.”

“You never had a problem with it before.” Even amid the argument, he still couldn't hide his smirk, playfully resting on his lips.

“Well, now I do.” You have to stick to your argument and not get caught in his trap by teasing you.

“Regardless, I'm not cheating. She's never even done anything wrong, especially to you!” He brushes his hair back, forehead wrinkling in frustration.

“Are you saying you’ve never seen the way she takes any opportunity to brush against you, take you out for meals, and chat you up? God, you must be oblivious to every girl that flirts with you.” You’re sure of it now, he doesn’t care about you. He was a charmer for all those other women. Purely using you as a toy when he was bored.

You notice how he hesitates to respond. The wavering look in his eye and the pause before he speaks. It is clear.

“I can't believe you, of all people, can't even open your mind to platonic relationships. I haven't done anything with her and never will.” He finds no reason to refute your arguments; unable to keep arguing, he stopped everything to focus on you, inconveniencing himself.

“Let's break up. I don't need to deal with you – deal with this anymore.” Your breath jagged as you sigh, accepting this as your undeniable fate. You and Jungkook were just not meant to be. Despite all the times you came to this conclusion, you have always been drawn back to him. No more tears swell in your eyes compared to the past. The number of times Jungkook had shown how little you mean to him, never upset or trying to make amends during arguments, merely accepting you and him breaking up.

“Fine. Don't expect me to take you back when you show up on my doorstep next week.” Scowling at you, like he wasn't the one causing you to break up. Mearley was making time to grab his necessities, which were scattered around the apartment.

“Just get your stuff and leave.” He knew how to get on your nerves, successfully leaving you with a lingering headache for the rest of the day.

The pads of his feet leaving the door replay through your mind, he will never drag you down again, lingers in your brain, and through memories of you.

You make a deal.

No more going back to Jeon jungkook.

________________

The following Monday, when you entered your office, you arrived early and left your handbag at your desk before heading to the canteen. A familiar figure catches your eye at the coffee machine – Supervisor Kim Namjoon.

“Hello, sir,” you mumble, matching the volume in the room, displaying respect before slipping beside him. He gives a slight nod to you, greeting his recent acquaintance. Considering that the two of you lived near the company, both of you were usually the first here. You spark a conversation about his wife and daughter, allowing him to share as many pictures as he could. Fond of his family, he met his wife early after leaving company dinners to spend time with his family. It was truly admirable, and his wife was as beautiful as a lily blooming in spring.

“How have you been ___?” You begin the conversation as usual, small talk evolving to friendly laughter. Even though he knew about your now ex-boyfriend, you don't shy away from telling him about your most recent breakup with him.

“Jungkook and I broke up again, but that's not new or surprising news.” A small chuckle slips from your lips, echoing in the room only filled by a whirring coffee machine.

“Well, I can’t say I’m not surprised, but aren't you just going to get back together in a week or two? Not to be rude, but I don’t know if you have lasted two weeks before getting back together.” You can’t even be offended by what Namjoon said, because it is true. This time is different. You are ready to forget about him. Jungkook was no longer bothering you; he was no longer a part of your life.

“No, I'm not going back to him anymore. It's best if I move on to someone else.”

You should feel happy. Right?

If that is true, why are you feeling so irritated by the silence of having no one to annoy and infuriate you? Perhaps you did miss him, but that would vanish soon.

Your conversation comes to a close as some co-workers enter the room, creating an awkward silence filled with the occasional chatter.

You and Namjoon head to your respective offices, leaving each other with a small wave before starting the long work day. The day felt longer than usual, and after lunch, you were drained. No energy left, maybe it was the silence you sat in at lunch with no messages to respond to, nothing but scrolling on your phone, and drinking an excessive amount of coffee. Which would end up weighing you down, but you didn't care. You needed the energy.

________________

The following weekend, you can't help but think about Jungkook as you browse through the department stores, full of clothes, accessories, and food.

His grin beams at you, helping you change the bedding. It would shape into a friendly wrestling match. It was infectious, and it left your cheeks sore from smiling with him.

You slip your hand through the railings, through the oversized shirts, clothing sets he would've loved when you first met – the camo pattern hurts your eyes, wondering how you have ever fallen for a guy like this. ‘Jungkook would like this.’ or the occasional ‘Maybe I should buy this for him’, almost forgetting you had broken up. This must be the hard part of breaking up, before you move on from him.

It’s insufferable. You never realise how much you miss someone until they're gone, even if they caused you pain. Jungkook was never truly gone, but you were moving on from him. In the quiet moments, watching couples on dates, you couldn't help but miss his presence.

Each simple beat that plays on the radio would remind you of the first time you dated, the simple romantics, letting him sway you around as you made dinner, evolving into full, extravagant concerts he would give you while screaming into the TV remote. His theatrics had successfully charmed you, falling into his trap. Now it's obvious to you that his behaviour was infinitely ingrained in you. Scarring deep into your heart. You were going to be in a lot of pain getting rid of him. It will be worth ridding oneself of any torment. Anything related to him will be gone.

Unlike before, you sit on the sofa, alone. Your carbonara in hand, the one that became your favourite after Jungkook taught you how to make it.

You slip into your pyjamas, remembering every time you wore this with him, putting on facemasks, and sleeping in his arms. You can't help but wonder why you have memories of everything related to him, big or small. Unable to understand why you miss him so much. It's confusing.

________________

When you sit in the quiet cafe that you visit often, editing a presentation that a rookie has slipped up on. You can’t blame them – you still remember when you too were a rookie, slipping up when given work to do, too scared to decline when work was thrown at you by corrupt workers.

You can't help but baby all the rookies, putting yourself in their position. You are left with no choice but to fix the mistakes in numbers, grammar, and design. The coffee cups take over the table, leaving you little space to work. You hadn't planned to spend your evening like this.

Nearing the end of your workload, a hand places another cup of coffee steaming up in the air, the smell enticing you away from your work.

“Hey there.”

A young man with wavy dark brown hair stood looming over you, placing the cup of coffee right beneath your nose. Unable to resist, you ponder his features.

‘He’s pretty handsome.’ You catch yourself off guard thinking absurd thoughts of a stranger, despite your indecency, every time you looked at him, he was grinning at you, eagerly awaiting to talk to you.

“You're gorgeous. I was wondering if you want to go out for dinner sometime?” You are taken aback, considering you have never met this man.

“Sorry, but I have-” The words almost slipped from your tongue; it had become a common phrase if a guy ever asked you out. It seemed so normal to have Jungkook around, but now you have no one to restrain you.

“I would love to, uh, what is your name? Sorry? Do you have a date in mind?”

His face displays everything, clearly preparing to be rejected. His eyes almost bulged out of his head, and you can't help but smile. His face softens into a small laugh. He is cute, you can't help ogling over him, like a fangirl meeting her favourite celebrity.

“Oh. Yeah, it's Hoseok. How does the 15th sound?” He smiles gently at you as you take a sip of the coffee given to you. He is sweet.

“Sure, that suits me. Could I get your number so we can arrange more later?”

For the first time in a long time, you’re excited to try something new, maybe you have stuck with your comfort zone for far too long. The nerves and excitement were indistinguishable. All blurred together into one jittering mess.

Hoseok leaves with a quick exchange of numbers and a warm cup of coffee to enjoy as you finished your work. A smile is on your face as you finish your presentation, walk home, eat dinner, and go to sleep.

A quick notification catches your attention — It is the Hoseok from today.

“I hope you got home safe., I can't wait to see you next week.” A short message, but it stayed with you for the rest of the night.

“I can't wait for it.” A soft reply, giving you butterflies. Over and over again, you can't help but think about how long it's been since you went on a first date with someone new. Hoseok's brown eyes linger in your brain, lighting around his iris. Eyes fluttering closed as you turn over, listening to the rustling of your duvet.

________________

May 15th.

It is finally Friday and the time of your date. In the mirror was your reflection, dressed in a silk black dress and high heels. In your hand was your bag, filled with lip gloss and other random items.

Ping.

A notification from your phone.

Hoseok: “Hey, I'll be outside in 5 minutes. Can't wait to see you.”

Every time a message was exchanged, it felt different. Hoseok was not what you were used to. He was always the one contacting you before you even got the chance.

It felt weird, probably because you haven't stepped outside your comfort zone in a while. He was ready for you at your building, clutching a beautifully arranged bouquet of lilies and baby breath. They were beautiful.

He guides you to his car, like a gentleman opening the door for you. Holding your hand as he drove, sleeves rolled up to his elbow, as he focused. He is dressed head to toe perfectly, in a nice shirt and pants. His watch decorated his wrist well.

The dinner was beautiful, a gorgeous restaurant that left you in awe as you witnessed the display of paintings. The chandeliers captured light perfectly from every angle, illuminating the room with a welcoming warmth. Unsurprised by your reaction, he playfully nudges you with his shoulder. Offering his hand to you.

You both finished your food swiftly. Good to know he was as much of a food fan as you were. Taking a walk along the pier and buying ice cream from a stand, coincidentally open this late. The lights illuminated the water, and the boats moved silently, swaying from side to side slowly.

Was this what you wanted?

You were so happy, He seemed to agree.

You were still unsure.

Why did a guy like him appear in your life now?

You couldn't help but point out the similarities between him and Jungkook.

Both had the same enchanting charms, drawing you in. Time spent joking together, teasingly.

Everything you liked about Jeon Jungkook, you liked about him. It might just be your type, but it was undeniable that they were extremely similar.

You ended the night taking photos, in secret, you both did the same, capturing each other in perfect light near the water. His warm hand leading you back to his car in the same gentle manner as before, holding you tight so you couldn't let go.

The drive back to your apartment was comfortable, your karaoke playing through the streets as you let down the window. Filling the car with a cold breeze, giving you goosebumps, but it felt good. Helping to drown the thoughts.

“Thank you for taking me out tonight. I had a lot of fun.” You weren't lying, the night was so much fun, magical even. He was such a sweetheart, and you found yourself cherishing every moment.

“Goodnight,___, Sleep well,” Hoseok says, watching you enter your apartment, giving him a last wave before closing the door behind you. All that has happened feels surreal.

________________

It's been a week since your date with Hoseok, you have reached out to each other casually, but no plans yet. It’s already the end of the month, and all you can think of is what to have for dinner. Recently, the company has been loading you and your co-workers with projects. Giving you no time to think. Every day you have been working nonstop, now that it is finally the weekend. Fingers bruised from how much they had been abused in the recent weeks.

The soft hum of the TV removes all thoughts from your head, giving you time to sit mindlessly. Not thinking of anything, a peaceful rest. Since your mind had been dragged through the mud in the past month, you had learned to take care of yourself.

Learning new boundaries, making more time for yourself, and even forming new connections with people, you finally felt at peace. Sure, life was still hard, but you were surviving, living, and you enjoyed it.

The cup of coffee, lifelessly placed on the table, had gone cold, making your nose crunch from displeasure as you took a sip.

The steam, no longer pouring into the air of the apartment.

You had taken it upon yourself to refresh your apartment. The incense you placed throughout the rooms pressed into the fabric of your clothes, overpowering everything with a new, refreshing scent.

Your hands pull away from the mug's handle, jaw clenching in annoyance since it feels like you only brewed this cup. The mindless thinking lingered for long enough for your drink to go cold, and for the TV to have changed.

Hands twitch against the cold mug as you enclose it in your palm, silently making your way to the sink, still dripping.

‘I need to call a plumber soon.’ You had taken notice over the past couple of weeks that the dripping water had become more vigorous, sending you into a frenzy every time you heard it. Each drop drives you deeper and deeper. You try to play music over it, yet it seems to linger in your head over and over again.

Each step on the wood floors seemed quiet compared to the dripping of the tap. Somehow, it played over everything. Surely it was your mind. Your mind was destroyed, letting go and losing everything.

You were vulnerable, but surviving. Over the past couple of months, you’ve transformed.

You couldn't help but think about how you haven't talked or seen –

A soft thump against the door of your apartment, knocking you out of your trance.

Then there was another. The silence was eerie; you hadn't arranged any plans with anyone to come over tonight. The dishes were left in their state as you made your way to the door, cautious of who could potentially be out there.

The figure you never expected to see.

Jeon Jungkook.

Standing on your front doorstep.

Not once during your relationship have you seen him like this; it was almost like he was vulnerable?

“What are you doing here?” Maintaining your stern tone, but a piece of you is still attached to the presence of him lingering in your house. A ghost now, but still missed.

“Can we work this whole thing out? Please.” The plea came out quiet, a restrained whine. It was working. He was pulling on your heart, like every other time. He lifted the bouquet to your face, a peace offering.

His face lights up as you shift to the side, allowing him in again.

Yet another mistake.

You take the flowers from his palm, and the drooping petals move with every step. They are truly beautiful, though, each colour perfecting the overall look of the arrangement. You were captivated by them. Never had you seen such flowers curated into a bouquet like this. It was truly unique.

“I appreciate the gift, but I don’t see what we have to work out?” The snipping of the flower stems broke the uncomfortable silence. Laying out each one to put into a vase.

“We haven't talked in a month ___” You knew. You had counted the weeks, days, and hours until the end of the month.

“Oh really? I hadn’t even noticed.” A blatant lie. The stale tone of your voice, targeted at him for everything he did. Though he knew you too well. You couldn’t play him and, from the moment you let him into your life. You had been enchanted. Some might say trapped, others will say safe. You had more good memories than bad ones, but you haven't decided which outweighs the other yet.

“Don't lie to me,___. I'm sorry for showing up now of all times, but this can't wait-”

“Do you have any idea of what you're saying? You should be aware that you were the one who broke up with me all this time, playing me like a toy. Now that I have broken up with you, you come running back? We shouldn’t even be talking right now.”

“I know, but I needed to see you., I was a complete and utter idiot to think that I could ever live without you in my life. Your absence in the past few weeks made me realise that, and I'm so sorry I didn't say anything sooner. I love you so much, ___. Please, I love you truly, and I hope you believe that because it's true. I know I really shouldn't have intruded, but I miss you so much, I swear that no matter what, I will always work to resolve our arguments, and I want to start over. I won't pressure you right now, but I'm glad I got to say it.” He stalls, wishing for a reply.

He was truly desperate, but you had just seen so much good in him right now, so much willingness for you to be his, letting him look after you.

Your eyes stay on the flowers, stems thrown to the side, while the flowers lie scenic in the dim light of the apartment. The squeak of his shoes draws you back. You see his back turning to leave, and in this moment, there's no other thought in your brain than you can't let Jungkook leave.

If he is willing to work on himself this much, you are going to give it a shot. Regardless of how much you have shadowed your feelings away with events in your life, He remained in your heart. Caught on his wire, pulling you closer.

Your heart pulses stronger than ever before, urging you to run after him.

You did.

Your steps chase after him, hitting the floor in unison with his. Finally, you understood that by doing this, you were giving yourself to Jungkook, and he was doing the same with you.

He turned to you for one last time, not expecting you to be so close he couldn't help but flinch. Your arms snake their way to the back of his neck, fingers feeling the tufts of hair on his neck. Twirling them between your thumb and index as your lips navigate their way to Jungkook's, smiling into the kiss. Starting slowly, working into the rhythm you set up.

You pull him closer, and the grip he has on your waist ignites butterflies. The way he spends his time working your lips with his. Creating undeniable friction. Making out with Jungkook was everything you needed; he had the perfect amount of soft but leading demeanor. He was a pro, teaching you everything you needed or even taking charge so you could feel good without moving a finger. This time, you were desperate for more and decided to take initiative to get it.

You needed more. Pushing against him and deepening the kiss, whining as he rubs his hand on your clit, Making you fold into the kiss. Your mouth widening to moan, letting him take advantage of you. He slips his tongue into your mouth, ravishing everything he's missed. Desperately placing more pressure onto your clit, while trailing his lips down every inch of your body. Down your neck and past the sweater he loved. Working his lips down to your pants, slipping them down your legs. Giving him full access to everything.

Working his tongue up and down your already wet pussy, slipping into you from time to time. Your knees buckled at every flick of his tongue; he was savouring every bit of your reactions, your sounds, and even the taste of you.

The sucking and muffled groans as you tug on his hair, fill your mind. His arms wrap around your thighs, caging you as you whimper and writhe at his every touch.

“Please. Please, Jungkook, I'm going to”

Your hand digging into his soft hair, trying to move his head away from throwing you over the edge. His stubbornness exceeds your strength at the moment, quickly followed by your legs trembling. Leaving your juices dripping onto his tongue.

You stood there breathless, shaking under every touch, but to Jungkook, you looked like a Renaissance painting. Every angle of you was perfect. You attracted him with every movement and in everything you did.

The way your hips bucked, eager for more, while you whined how it was too much. He loved it.

Lifting you and placing your legs to rest on his hips as he walks you to the bedroom, the mattress creaking as both of your weights slump against it. His lips tracing over yours, winding their way to your nipple, surrounded by goosebumps that prickled your skin.

Every touch has you shuddering, your every movement feeling weaker than it should be. Despite the warmth of your room, you got chills from every touch. Slowly diving deeper into every touch, losing control.

His fingers run along your lip, gathering slick before pushing you even further. Slipping two digits into you, stretching you out even more. He knew exactly what to do; every flick in a direction was intentional, and the way he controlled you made it seem like he knew your body better than you did.

The sound of his zipper coming undone dragged you back to life; you couldn't help but stare in awe. Lost in his touch, blissfully unaware of how long the night would be. His calloused hands work their way over every part of your body.

Tracing your nipples, the ones he bruised and teased earlier, torturing you under his grasp.

You could feel him slipping the tip of his cock into you as he pinched your nipples, overstimulating you every way as he pushes his length into you starting to move. Tears spill from the creases of your eye,s littering your face. Jungkook takes notice of this, palms running through your hair, littering kisses from cheek to cheek.

“Are you alright? I didn't mean to hurt you, baby, I'm so sorry.” Squeezing you into a hug, pulling you in as close as he could for comfort.

“I’m okay, I just need a second.” Your head falling into place on his shoulder, breathing with him. Your chest, which had been rapidly rising and falling, has slowed. Hands moving to your bare back, running his fingers around your shoulder blades.

“Take all the time you need, baby. You know, all the time we were separate, did I miss you? I even cried.” He chuckled since he was exposing himself.

“I felt lost without you. I needed to make it up with you, and still do. Thank you for letting me attempt to work it out. I'm glad we made up.” You were overwhelmed with emotion, feeling so appreciated with his words, which painted you as some humble deity, but you were thankful.

The soft smile on his face. The small smile lines on his cheeks. He was irresistible. Bru, all yours.

“I love you, Jungkook.” Working your nails over his cheeks before making out, you wanted nothing more than each other on each other. Enjoying each other's presence like it was the last time.

His lips were soft, slower this time. Leading your back with his hand on the bed. His arm slipped around your lower back.

“I'm ready to continue now, if that's okay with you.” Locking eyes, from how long you kept eye contact with him, it seemed like he was unwilling to break any kind of contact with you.

“I’ll move now if that's okay.” Pressing his lips to your forehead. He was truly making the most of you as if it were his last, wanting nothing else in the world right now. It would seem like everything he wanted to do was complete; he made up with you, and everything was perfect.

His cock slowly pushes into you, sending you to heaven and back. Making you grasp onto the bed sheets under you, knuckles turning white from the pressure in your hand.

“Are you alright? I can stop if you want -” You could hear the worry in his voice, afraid he would hurt you.

“No, I'm alright. Please, continue.” He pushes deeper into you, starting slow but picking up the pace as me moves. Your whines and whimpers drive him even further, leaving him wanting more at the sound of you.

“God, please, I need more, it's so-so good.”

Stumbling over your words and the moans pour out of your mouth. Desperate for more, your hips move, attempting to get more friction against you. He was moving at a painfully slow pace, teasing you all over. Placing his hand on your lower stomach, pushing, making you feel everything.

“You're all mine now, okay, love?” As Jungkook lets the last words of that sentence slip off his tongue, he speeds up to an unimaginable pace. Blissfully piercing you, making you feel better than you thought you ever could.

You could feel both you and Jungkook's highs coming, as he began to rut more desperately into you. His thrusts become more syncopated and irregular. Your stomach fills with a sense that you are close, along with your legs shaking.

“Fuck, I need to cum baby.” Begging for you to hold out until he cums, as his thrusts become more desperate and fast. Driving into you.

Toes curl as you come to your climax, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you feel waves of pleasure drown you.

“I love you so much.” Whispering in his ear as he slumps against you. Arms bringing you to the bathroom to clean every bit of your body. Jungkook is taking care of everything as he repeats songs of praise about how much he loves you.

________________

1 month later

“Jungkook? Did you fix the sink?” Looking up at him, eyes flicking from his lips to his eyes.

“Yeah, I fixed it after we got back together, love.” Placing a kiss on your temple as you resume the peaceful rest on the couch.

No wonder life has been so calm the past month.

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