girls Over Flowers

This morning smells like chocolate chip cookies, one of your signature recipes and his personal favorite. Although, he isn’t able to tell you that since Jaehyun’s favorite was your blueberry scones. 

It’s been just over three months since Jungkook buried his brother, and therefore living as him, too. He has a fairly steady routine now, especially after returning to work as CEO of Jeon Industries last month. 

That’s been the hardest assimilation of all because he never witnessed that side of his twin’s life. Thankfully, a common symptom of major grief and depression is memory loss. So, no one questions why he can’t recall certain projects or statistics. Jaehyun was also an avid note taker, giving Jungkook a starting point to pick up where he left off without too many issues. 

In addition, he and his family have finished handling all his belongings and significant possessions. 

Jennie is still running Kookie’s using money from the business account. But the funds are finite and Jungkook’s been brainstorming about where to go from here. He would be more than happy to finance it using Jaehyun’s salary, but Jennie didn’t sign up to be an owner and he refuses to force more responsibility on her than she might want. 

After sorting through and cleaning out his apartment, including putting any sentimental or valuable items in storage, they placed it on the market and it sold within a couple weeks. 

His motorcycle’s currently parked in your garage. You and him have discussed what to do a few times and it takes all of Jungkook’s willpower to pretend it wouldn’t kill him to see it sold.

Living as your husband is the easiest task of all and also the only reason he’s even managing to cope with Jaehyun’s death. You’re thoughtful, considerate, understanding, and loving twenty four freaking hours a day and he’ll never be able to properly thank you for being his saving grace these last three months. 

When he descends the stairs, he sees you lying horizontally on the couch with a new baking tips book. You clearly notice him enter the room because although your eyes don’t leave the page, a small smile appears. 

Just that hint of happiness on your face is enough to make Jungkook’s whole day, maybe even his week. His feelings for you have grown exponentially and honestly, if they got any bigger, love would start bursting right out of him. 

As he rounds the couch, he places one knee between your legs before plucking the book from your hands and laying it flat on the coffee table so you don’t lose your place. 

“Hey!”

“Hey, yourself,” he drawls while one hand loops around your waist and the other finds the armrest behind you.

You squeal as Jungkook effortlessly tugs you closer until he can dip his head to kiss up the side of your throat. The air around you both floods with giggles while he paints you in saliva by trailing his lips anywhere they can reach. When he’s decidedly done, he fake growls and bites the soft spot just below your ear.

“Jae!” You laugh and kick your legs that are sandwiched between his own. 

He lifts his head up with a bright, joyous grin and then steals a quick peck from your lips. 

“Good morning, beautiful.” 

“Nuh uh, get back here,” you demand. 

Your fingers clutch his shirt to pull him completely on top of you, causing Jungkook to chuckle. But he still seamlessly follows the wordless command by kissing you again. While his grip tightens until your bodies are flush, your arms circle his neck so you can sink your digits into his hair. 

The two of you lazily make out, with little care for the pace or precision of your mouths. Your teeth clink together every so often, you both accidentally tug on the other’s bottom lip too hard, and your tongues clash in awkward ways, but neither of you care in the slightest. 

Jungkook’s other hand eventually traces down your curves until he reaches your hip, where he tilts your leg to hook it around him. The new angle makes you moan into his mouth and yank on his hair, a sure sign of how badly you crave him.

The problem is Jungkook can’t give you what you want, or at least, he isn’t ready to. For the last three months, this is as far as you two have gone sexually. It’s the one line he hasn’t been able to cross and he’s thankful you’ve been so understanding. Of course, you believe it's because of grief, rather than him being unable wrap his mind around betraying his brother to that extent.

Sure, maybe it’s hypocritical when his tongue’s already down your throat and his cock’s brushing against your clit through your clothes, but it feels like an entirely different category. 

“Shit, baby,” he rasps once his mental fortitude starts to wane. The heat of the moment is burning him alive and he simply can’t continue no matter how much he wants to. “I’m sorry, I —”

“It’s okay,” you instantly reassure him.

“It isn’t, and I know that, and I promise I’m trying, I just...” He inhales through his nose to slow his racing heartbeat. “I can’t… yet.”

One of your hands slides down to cup his cheek. 

“It is okay, baby.” You smile at him before sitting up just enough to kiss the tip of his nose. “I don’t mind waiting.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“I genuinely don’t care, Jae. We’ve been having sex for a decade and a half. I think I can handle a little dry spell.”

He knows he can’t keep you waiting forever and he’ll eventually have to bite the bullet, but he has no clue when his guilt will allow him to do so.

“Okay,” he concedes.

“Can I ask you something, though?” After nodding his head, Jungkook moves away while guiding your upper body into a sitting position so you’re facing one another on the couch. “What’s holding you back? I mean, it’s not like Kookie would be upset with you for having sex so soon after his death.”

“No, he wouldn’t. It isn’t that.” Jungkook runs his fingers through his hair as he conjures up an adequate reason. “I just don’t think I would be able to focus enough to give you what you deserve. My mind constantly wonders between the grief, sorrow, anger, and whatever other emotions might be plaguing me that day. And if I’m going to make love to my wife, I want it to be all I’m thinking about.”

It isn’t a complete lie. Jungkook truly can’t set his mind on a single track for more than a few minutes no matter how hard he tries. 

In response, you thoughtfully hum while nibbling on your lower lip.

“Well, what if we started small? You know, just a little handiwork here and there or some oral every once in a while. Short bursts of intimacy where you wouldn’t have to focus for too long.”

Dammit, your intelligence will be the fucking death of him. 

Although, perhaps your approach would help solve the actual issue as well. He wouldn’t have to dive headfirst into the deep end and could slowly get acquainted with the notion until he’s ready. 

“I think that’s a great idea, sweetheart.”

“Really?” 

The sight of your eyes lighting up is the only push Jungkook needs. He would do anything to keep a smile on your face. 

That’s the very source of his problems in the first place. 

“Absolutely. Maybe we can, uh, give it a shot over the next couple weeks or so.” 

“I’ll follow your lead.”

“Thank you.” Jungkook leans in for one last kiss. “I love you.”

You giggle as if he doesn’t tell you at least a hundred times a day.

“I love you, too, baby.” There’s a brief pause before you gasp in realization and shoot up from the couch. “You have to try the cookies!”

Jungkook’s hand is immediately commandeered when you yank him off the couch and guide him into the kitchen where two dozen chocolate chip cookies are resting on cooling racks. Beside them is a ceramic cake platter you made with a small sign labeling it “Kookie’s Treats.” It’s where you leave the six extra desserts you bake with every recipe in honor of him. The treats always go uneaten and straight into the trash once you bake something else, but the comfort it brings you is worth the waste. 

“Haven’t I already tried this recipe?” 

“You tried the old one,” you explain. “This one uses brown butter.”

“What makes the butter brown?” 

“Heating it up.”

“Ah.”

With an eager grin, you delicately remove one of the cookies from the rack and pass it to him. Jungkook smiles prior to taking a liberal bite and per usual, it’s one of the best goddamn things he’s ever tasted. 

He moans in delight and his whole face scrunches as he nods to convey its deliciousness to you. After he swallows the last crumb, he shakes his head in awe and disbelief.

“Those taste unbelievable, sweetheart.” When his eyes meet yours again, he finds you looking like a heartbroken deer in headlights and there are even unshed tears along your waterline. “What’s wrong?”

You sniffle and shake your head to stop the droplets from actually falling.

“Nothing, it’s just… sometimes I swear it’s like Jungkook possesses you for a second.” 

Jungkook’s heart drops and almost drowns in his stomach acid. 

“What do you mean?”

“You just made his good food face,” you state.

Shit.

He always tries his best to refrain from doing anything that’s too him, but clearly your cookies were so good it caused him to momentarily forget his responsibilities. 

Thankfully, the idea that he isn’t Jaehyun is so ludicrous you land on spiritual possession first. Naturally. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook mumbles with his eyes tilted down. “I feel that way too sometimes.”

“It’s a good thing.” His eyebrows rise with intrigue. “Makes me miss him a little less when pieces of him come out through you.” 

He sighs in relief along with a sweet smile.

“Me, too.”

You end up offering Jungkook one more treat before separating the spare half dozen and storing the remainder in one of your many cookie jars. 

It’s Saturday so he doesn't have to run off to the office like he does during the week. Although he still has errands, including stopping by the bar to have a conversation with Jennie. 

He’s dreading it, if he’s being totally honest, but he also can’t put it off any longer. There’s less than a month of money left to sustain the bar at full capacity, so it’s now or never.

The problem is she’s his kryptonite. Not only because she’s his best friend who knows him better than anyone with Jaehyun gone, but because she’s his biggest sacrifice in becoming his brother. 

Jennie’s the only person in his life who wasn’t also connected to Jaehyun. So, unlike his parents, family, and other loved ones who he can still maintain a relationship with as Jaehyun, he had to let her go entirely. It kills him not being able to see her or have one of their long conversations about everything and nothing. He misses her more than he can even put into words. Which is why he’s hoping his solution for Kookie’s will lead to them building a new friendship. 

After giving you a lengthy goodbye kiss, Jungkook tells you he’ll see you later and heads to the car. Kookie’s is a bit farther from the house than his apartment was, but at least it gives him more time to rethink his plan over and over. 

He hasn’t told anyone his idea yet since without Jennie’s approval, there’s no point. It’s been rolling around in his head for a couple months and although he believes it’s a great idea, he might be a little biased. 

Upon arriving at the bar, he can see Jennie inside by herself since opening isn’t for another few hours. He takes a deep breath before crossing the street, but by the time he reaches the door she’s already in the back. Rather than waiting and no doubt scaring the shit out of her when she spots him through the glass, he uses the spare key to let himself inside. 

The bell rings overhead as he enters, so he knows it’ll only be a few seconds before Jennie appears from the kitchen. He uses the time to admire the familiar decor and furniture. Nothing’s changed since he was last here, which was also the last night he ever lived as himself. Well, there is one difference: a framed picture of him hanging behind the bar. It was taken by none other than Jennie the day he bought the building. He’s absolutely cheesing next to the sold sign with the keys dangling from his pointer finger. 

The sound of footsteps pulls his attention away and it’s just in time to lock eyes with his former best friend. 

Jennie stops in her tracks with possibly the widest eyes he’s ever seen on her face. He waves and chuckles in an attempt to dispel the awkward energy, but it still takes her a moment to recover.

“I, uh, I’m sorry. I know you’re identical but I guess I just… forgot how much you look like him,” she explains. 

“It’s alright. I hear it all the time.” Her eyes are watery and it shatters Jungkook’s heart. He wants to comfort her like he used to or tell a stupid joke to make her laugh, but all he can do is stand there. “How are you?”

She humorlessly chuckles like that’s the most ridiculous question he could’ve asked.

“Oh, you know.”

Jungkook grimaces.

“Yeah. I know.”

“I’m sorry. This is obviously way harder for you than it is for me and —” 

“No. No it isn’t,” he interrupts her. “There’s no comparison in grief.” 

His assurance seems to help, even if just a little, because a faint smile forms on her lips as she nods.

“You’re right. Sometimes it just feels like I’m, I don’t know, overreacting?”

“Overreacting?” On muscle memory alone, Jungkook steps forward before remembering he shouldn’t and digging his heels into the ground. “Jennie, he was your best friend.”

She clicks her tongue while her gaze drops to the floor.

“He was more than that,” she mutters under her breath.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing, um, it isn’t important.” Whatever melancholia was hanging over her seems to be gone once she lifts her head again and crosses her arms over her chest. “So, what’s up? I mean, I know you technically own the place now, but I wasn’t expecting a visit.”

“Oh, right.” Jungkook has to give himself a quick head shake to refocus on the task at hand. “I came to talk to you, actually.”

“About what?”

He gestures to the space around them.

“The future of Kookie’s.”

They decide to sit down in a booth to chat and Jennie even pours them both a beer. Once they’re comfortably across from each other with a couple drinks in front of them, Jungkook clears his throat.

“So, Kook had about four months worth of savings in the business account. Obviously, it’s been three already. That means you and I have to decide where we want to go from here,” he announces.

Jennie’s brow scrunches.

“You and I? Isn’t it just up to you?”

“Maybe legally, but that’s certainly not what he would want. And I would never ice you out like that.” Jungkook sighs as he watches the foam float at the top of his beer. “Jennie, he…” He inhales. “Jungkook loved you.” After a moment, he realizes his statement needs clarification. “I don’t mean like that, I just…” His eyes flicker up to meet hers. “You meant the world to him.”

To me.

Sharing those sentiments might’ve been a mistake because Jennie immediately tears up again and her bottom lip starts to tremble.

“I know,” she whimpers. “I just wish I’d gotten the chance to tell him how much he meant to me.”

It’s his turn for a confused expression.

“He knew, Jen. I know he did.” 

“No. At least, not the full extent.” Jungkook’s head tilts and he’s about to ask for more information until she continues all on her own. “I loved him so fucking much. I was in love with him. I had been for almost our entire friendship.”

The world suddenly halts like a record scratching on a turnstile. Never once in the ten years he’s known Jennie did he ever suspect her to have romantic feelings for him. He thinks through all their memories together and it makes him wanna be sick. The late nights, weekend adventures, movie marathons, and study sessions. Not to mention the handful of times Jungkook used her body as a stress release without knowing it meant something entirely different to her. 

He wants to lay his head on the table and sob or maybe take Jennie’s hands so he can apologize for being such an ignorant asshole. Her confession kills him because he knows what unrequited love is like and to think he was putting his best friend through it is gut wrenching. If only he could just tell her he’s sorry and that if things were different, if he wasn’t a degenerate in love with his brother’s girl, he would’ve reciprocated without a second thought. 

The problem is he can’t do any of that because he isn’t Jungkook anymore. He can’t even let her see the guilt flood his eyes or his face fall in despair. So, he holds everything in and clears his throat again to mask the pain.

“Why didn’t you ever tell him?” Jungkook asks.

Jennie shrugs while drying her eyes with her sleeve.

“It wouldn’t have mattered. He was already in love with someone else when we met.”

His blood runs cold.

“Did you… do you know who?” When she shakes her head, Jungkook hides his massive sigh of relief. “He never mentioned anyone to me.”

“No, he probably wouldn’t have. He always kept that particular secret close to his chest,” she states before a brief awkward pause. “But, um, back to Kookie’s?”

“Right! Right. Sorry.” Jungkook forces his emotions back into the container where they reside so he can continue the conversation. He’ll sort through them afterwards when he’s alone. “Basically, I’m more than willing to finance the bar, but I can’t commit to the time and resources needed to run it. Now, if you want to, I would be happy to do that. But I also know you never signed up to be an owner and I don’t want to pressure you into staying.” He claps his hands while inhaling through his nose to prepare for the actual proposal. “So, in case you aren’t willing to run this place, I was wondering what you think about me offering it to Y/N to turn into a bakery.”

Jennie’s eyes go wide as soon as he’s done talking and Jungkook’s nerves stand at attention, but then her shocked expression gradually morphs into delight.

“Jaehyun, that’s a wonderful idea!”

“Re — really?”

She enthusiastically nods.

“It’s exactly what Kook would want.”

“You think so?” What a stupid fucking question. Like he isn’t the literal person they’re referring to. “I wasn’t sure if you would think I’m overstepping or something.”

“No, absolutely not. He adored Y/N. Seeing her dream finally come true would’ve made him so fucking happy. I mean, this place was literally named after her nickname for him.”

Jungkook allows his sigh to escape this time as a smile overtakes his lips. 

“I’m so glad you agree,” he admits. “But are you sure you’re alright with not running the bar yourself?” 

“Are you kidding? All this responsibility’s making me go prematurely grey,” she exclaims. “But if I could ask for one favor?” He nods and gestures for her to continue. “Could you ask Y/N if she’ll need help? Just because I don’t want to be in charge doesn’t mean I wanna leave this place behind, you know? And I obviously know the register and how to handle customers.”

As if this conversation could get any better. 

“Absolutely!” In fact, he was already planning on asking if she would want that. He figures if she sticks around to manage the bakery, perhaps they can grow close again as Jaehyun and Jennie. “She’s going to need all the help she can get since it’ll be impossible to bake everything and manage the storefront.”

“Have you spoken to her about this yet?” 

“No,” Jungkook answers. “I wanted to hear your opinion first.” 

Jennie smiles and for the first time today, it reaches her eyes the way it usually does. 

“I really appreciate that.”

The two of them discuss logistics for a while before Jungkook eventually excuses himself so she can finish preparing for the evening. She gives him a quick goodbye hug at the door and he has to refrain from holding her too tight, like how he used to. 

After they part, Jennie steps back and he salutes her with his two first fingers before exiting. He makes it about halfway to the crosswalk until the sound of quick footsteps coming from behind stops him and causes his eyebrows to rise.

“Wait!” 

When he turns around, Jennie’s a couple feet away and although she didn’t have to jog far to reach him, she appears winded.

“What’s up?” He casually questions.

Jennie takes in a massive influx of air while her hands shake at her sides.

“You’re not Jaehyun. Are you?”

Jungkook swears all the action around him ceases like a still life photograph. How come he made it through hours of conversation without her suspecting anything only to fail at the last second? And what the hell did he do to give her that impression?

“Wh… what?”

“You just saluted me.” She does the action herself. “The same way Kook did every time he left this place for the last three years.” 

Fuckkk. 

Goddamn muscle memory and stupid, permanently ingrained instincts. Who knew a single instant in time could possibly unravel everything. 

Honestly, there’s a piece of him that wishes he could just say yes so he can have his best friend back. But even one person knowing his secret could lead to disaster. 

So, lying through his teeth it is.

He chuckles and scoffs like her accusation’s borderline unbelievable.

“We both do it.” Jungkook repeats the salute, but this time slightly different from how he normally moves his hand. “Learned it from our grandfather.” When Jennie still looks skeptical, he throws his arms up in surrender. “I swear, Jennie. Scout’s honor.”

His oxygen remains trapped in his throat until her face finally relaxes and she shakes her head.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. You probably think I’m crazy now,” she laments.

“I don’t.” She sends him a disbelieving glance. “I promise, I don’t. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I can’t even tell who’s staring back at me.”

Her eyes sympathetically wilt, but Jungkook waves the emotion away with his hand. Albeit a little more awkwardly, they wish each other farewell again prior to him leaving for good. 

Once home, he remains in the garage so he can let his mind come to terms with the events of the evening. From Jennie’s confession to her almost figuring him out; the weight of it all is too much to bear. Before he can stop himself, his head drops to the steering wheel as he begins sobbing into the leather. 

He just wishes everything were different. In a perfect world he never would’ve fallen for you, then he and Jennie could be together and Jaehyun might still be alive. Instead, he lives in the universe where the only way he can be with the woman he loves is by pretending to be his dead twin and leaving his best friend all alone with a broken heart. 

As if he didn’t already hate himself enough for having feelings for you. Jennie deserves so much fucking better and he wonders if she’d be better off having never met him. At least then she would be spared from the pain she’s going through now and endured over the last decade. 

Jungkook has no idea how long he stays in the car bawling his eyes out, but it must be a suspicious amount of time because all of the sudden the driver’s side door flies open. 

“Jae?” When Jungkook lifts his head to face you, your eyes expand in concern and you instantly reach out to hug him. “Oh, honey.” 

He has other plans, and as soon as you’re close enough, his arms encapsulate your waist so he can tug you right into the car with him. Your back presses on the steering wheel and causes the horn to honk while your knees land on either side of his hips. But neither of you care; too preoccupied with holding one another so close you can feel the other’s heartbeat. 

As your arms wind around his neck and your fingers comb through his hair, he explores the length of your back like he’s trying to remind himself you’re real. 

“It’s okay, baby,” you whisper with your lips on the shell of his ear. “I’ve got you.” His cries only grow louder at the sound of your voice, because your endless compassion makes his own sins look so much darker in comparison. “I’m right here.”

The two of you stay like that for quite some time, but you don’t rush him in letting out all his emotions. When his cries do subside, you gently guide his head up until you can see his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks. 

“What for?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. Manhandling you, I guess.” 

You smile at him with such adoration it almost halts his heart.

“You can manhandle me anytime, any place,” you assure him. 

A hint of a smile forms before Jungkook buries his face in your neck to inhale your familiar scent. It reminds him of everything good in the world, of everything he loves, and grounds him to reality. 

“I love you, Y/N.” His voice is muffled by your skin, but you still hum in acknowledgment. “I love you so much I don’t think my heart can carry it all.”

“Mmm. Maybe I can crochet you a backpack or something to put the excess in.” 

Jungkook laughs and kisses your throat before gazing at you again.

“No, I don’t think that’ll work.” 

“No?”

He shakes his head.

“I think I have to return it to you somehow,” he claims.

“Yeah? And how do you plan to do that?” 

It’s obvious you’re both on the same page, because by the time Jungkook laces his fingers through your hair to pull your face down, you’re already leaning in. Your lips meet for a messy, passionate kiss that’s all tongue and soft moans. It’s different from the other kisses you’ve shared so far and even the air around you feels charged with a new tension.

Almost immediately, you begin rolling your hips across his lap and grinding down against the tent in his pants. It causes Jungkook’s head to spin and after the day he’s had, he doesn’t have the wherewithal to stop you. 

His arm loops around your waist to assist your movements while you rest your hands on his shoulders to give yourself more leverage. The two of you continue kissing like you need it to breathe, although you’re really just panting and whimpering into each other’s mouths. 

As you pick up the pace, Jungkook’s grasp on your hair turns bruising and he starts bucking his hips up to match your rhythm. 

“Jae,” you whine between smooches. 

“Baby, I…” He groans when all the sensations become both too much and yet not enough. “I don’t wanna fuck you again for the first time in a car.”

“Then just let me make you feel good.” Jungkook tries to shake his head, but you stop him by caressing his jaw. “It’ll help, right? With whatever’s weighing you down?”

You’re staring at him too intensely to hide how much he wants this and despite his better judgement, he nods.

Without another word, you bend over to kiss his neck at the same time your hips regain their momentum. 

Jungkook’s fully aware he’s going to cream his pants embarrassingly fast. You’ve been his dream girl since he was sixteen and now you’re dry humping him in a fucking Mercedes. The thing is he can’t bring himself to care. Not when he needs some sort of release or his brain might genuinely explode. 

The feeling of your lips on his throat and your cunt rubbing against his bulge is driving him insane and it takes all his willpower not to carry you inside the house so he can fuck you like you deserve. By the time he’s done with you, you won’t remember your own name let alone which twin you’re married to. 

Alas, for now all he can do is synchronize his hips with your own so his cock catches your clit every time you press yourself into him. 

While Jungkook’s fingertips dig into your spine and scalp because he’s trying to salvage whatever’s left of his sanity, your mouth trails up his neck until you can nibble and lick along his jawline. The wet sensation elicits a moan from deep within his chest before he uses his grip on your hair to force your lips back to his. 

The kiss is sloppy enough to leave drool all over the bottom halves of your faces. But if anything, it just makes the moment that much hotter. It’s so scorching even the air feels suffocating despite the door still being wide open. 

“Fuck, I’m — I’m close, baby,” Jungkook grunts. “But I need you to come with me.”

You break the lip lock with a mischievous giggle.

“Then you better make me, Jeon.” 

Jungkook almost comes right then and there. He’s never heard you refer to Jaehyun by their surname, but shit, if it isn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever uttered. 

He manages to resist the pressure in his gut before attacking your neck with an onslaught of fiery kisses. He begins thrusting up into you as well, turning you into a whiny, wanton mess while you tug on the hair at his nape and grind down harder.  

It’s clear you’re nearing an orgasm when Jungkook feels your abdomen clench where your bodies are pressed together. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever imagine having the opportunity to make you come, but if he thinks about it too much he’ll finish before you do. 

In all honesty, every muscle and vein in his body is working together to prevent him from letting go too soon. Even outside the physical friction you’re providing, just the idea of finally having you like this is enough to make him bust. 

Not to mention you’re moaning in his ear and Jungkook swears it’s like taking a hard drug. It makes his mind feel hazy from all the lust and pure, unadulterated need. His body’s practically acting on its own at this point because his brain is going haywire.

“Baby, please,” you whimper with a firm yank on his hair. 

He certainly doesn’t need to be told twice, and immediately licks along the side of your throat before biting down on your earlobe.

“Come for me,” he growls. 

You gasp and bury your face in his neck when your orgasm hits you. Then he topples right over the edge a second later, the movement of your body spasming in his lap sending straight into the depths of euphoria with a loud, enthusiastic moan. 

The two of you carelessly grind against one another throughout your highs as the friction from your bodies prolongs the sensation.

It might very well be the nastiest thing Jungkook’s ever done, considering the humiliating amount of cum in his boxers that gets pushed around each time you hump his lap. Yet he can’t get enough of you shaking above him as your own essence soaks through your underwear onto your pants.

By the time you both calm down, it’s as if your energy’s been sucked out by some mystical force.

“Fuck,” you chuckle, prompting him to join you. “Been a while, huh?”

Jungkook laughs again while lifting his head up to look at you.

“You could definitely say that.”

Seeing your responding smile almost recoups all his lost energy in a single instant.

“You remember the first time we did that? Back when I was still in high school?” 

Obviously not, but by god, does he wish he did. 

“Vividly,” he answers.

Your hands slide down from his shoulders to his chest as you lean in to give him another kiss. 

“We should go inside and get cleaned up. I’ll make us dinner after.” Jungkook nods. “Maybe then you can tell me why you were so upset?”

He will once he thinks of a reasonable explanation. It’s not as though he can tell you the truth about his emotions. 

“How about tomorrow? I just want to enjoy my time with you tonight.”

It’s not even remotely a lie. He craves nothing more than to take a nice, hot shower and cuddle with you on the couch. 

“Of course,” you assure him. 

You peel yourselves apart as deftly as possible in the cramped space of the front seat before you head upstairs to change while Jungkook hops in the shower. 

He avoids sparing himself a glance in the mirror afterwards, for fear he’ll see his brother glaring back at him in disgust. Sure, he didn’t actually touch you, but that doesn’t mean a line not previously crossed wasn’t just obliterated beyond repair.

When the sun rises the following day, you roll straight into his arms wearing a blissful smile. It’s easily one of the most beautiful sights Jungkook’s ever seen and it encourages him to kiss the expression right off your pretty, pink lips.

“Morning,” you whisper.

Jungkook’s too busy kissing you to reply. He’s already got a hand in your hair and the other cradles your knee so he can hook your leg around his waist. You two often wake up like this and spend the early morning hours smooching and touching each other to your heart’s content. 

It feels different today, on behalf of your behavior from the night before, but even after taking that leap yesterday, your Sunday morning make out doesn’t lead anywhere. 

“Morning, sweetheart,” he mumbles while traveling one peck at a time across your cheek. “Sleep well?”

“Mmhm.”

You giggle once Jungkook reaches your neck and begins aggressively nuzzling his face into your skin. 

After cuddling and sharing more absentminded kisses for a while, you both leave the comfort of your bed to start the day. You naturally seize the kitchen to cook breakfast while Jungkook takes care of some chores like laundry and vacuuming. 

Ironically, Jungkook’s a great cook because he lived alone for so long, but Jaehyun would burn water if he even attempted a single recipe. Meaning Jungkook has to let you tackle every meal alone to avoid raising suspicion. He’s debated on asking you to “teach” him or pretend to take cooking classes to remedy the situation. 

Following the delicious meal, you plop on the couch together with your legs resting on Jungkook’s. His hand lazily caresses your bare thigh while your fingers fiddle with his own. It’s soft and domestic, and he absolutely adores the small, mundane moments like this.

“Are you feeling better this morning?” You ask him.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Jungkook inhales and nods as his eyes focus on the repetitive movement of his hand brushing against your skin.

“It actually went great. Jennie was really excited about my idea and we worked through most of the logistics before I left,” he explains.

“So, then…”

He grins and pinches your leg, to which you squeak and slap his bicep.

“I’m getting there, nosey!” You merely throw your hands up in surrender. “Jennie told me something while I was there and it just… broke me, I guess.” 

“What was it?”

“She said she was in love with Kook, and had been for almost their entire friendship. And I don’t know, it just shattered my fucking heart. Because Kook never got to have what we have, but Jennie wanted him all this time. And now they’ll never get a chance.” 

When Jungkook glances up to see your reaction, you look like a confused puppy with your head tilted.

“Wait, you didn’t know Jennie was in love with Jungkook?”

His eyes go wide. 

“You knew?”

“Well, duh. It was obvious!” 

“To whom?” 

You giggle and roll your eyes. 

“Only the women, apparently,” you comment. “You never noticed how she looked at him? Like he was the center of her freaking universe?” 

“N — no.” 

Jennie looked at him differently? He never once registered that. Maybe because he was always too busy envying how you looked at Jaehyun. 

The fact you realized her feelings and he didn’t, despite not knowing her nearly as well, makes him want to be sick. She’s his best friend. He should’ve been paying more attention. 

“I honestly thought they were either together and for some reason Kookie didn’t want to tell us or he was just extremely obtuse. Now it’s clear it was the latter.”

All of a sudden your exemplary perception skills cause his stomach to sink. Because if you noticed Jennie’s feelings for Jungkook, is it possible you also picked up on his feelings for you? 

“She claimed she never confessed because he was in love with someone else,” Jungkook adds. “Do you know who that might’ve been?”

“Huh?” The confusion on your face eases his mind. “Kookie? In love with someone?” You shake your head. “No. Who would that even be? He never dated anyone the entire time I knew him.”

“That’s what I thought, too.”

“Wait, doesn’t that imply whoever this mystery person is didn’t love him back?”

Jungkook shrugs.

“I suppose so.”

“That makes even less sense. Jungkook was amazing and unbelievably handsome. I would know, seeing as I married someone with the same face. If he was in love with someone, I can’t see how they didn’t reciprocate,” you explain. “Besides, we know everyone in his life.”

The sheer irony of your logic almost makes Jungkook burst into hysterical laughter, or maybe bawl his eyes out. 

“Maybe Jennie was wrong?”

“That, or the person he was in love with was her and they both just danced around one another all these years.”

“That would be… tragic.”

You nod in agreement. 

“It all is, regardless of anyone’s feelings,” you lament with your eyes towards the ground. 

Jungkook spots the change in your demeanor and places two fingers under your chin to gently lift your head up.

“You know what made me feel better after I thought about it some more?” He waits for you to hum before finishing his statement. “Whether or not Kook knew, or felt the same, he was loved. By us, by Jennie, and by everyone who knew him.”

His proclamation turns your eyes into somber, sparkling oases, but there’s also a contradictory smile on your lips.

“You’re right.” Your hand rises to swipe at the corner of your eye so no tears actually fall. “He was so, so fucking loved.”

After you sniffle a couple times, Jungkook moves his hand to cradle your face and run his thumb across your cheekbone.

“Speaking of people Jungkook loved, I should probably tell you what Jennie and I talked about yesterday,” he states.

“What do you mean?” 

He clears his throat before dropping his hand and encasing one of your own. He rolls your fingers around while mentally hyping himself up, his anxiety about your reaction deterring him from speaking just yet.

“My brother adored you more than he could ever put into words. You were never just my girlfriend or wife to him, but a best friend and confidant. And he believed in you more than anyone else in the world. It was actually one of the last things we spoke about.” He takes a deep breath in preparation for his proposal. “So, because Jennie isn’t comfortable running Kookie’s alone with my financial backing, she and I agreed what Jungkook would want is for you to turn it into your very own bakery.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull, and Jungkook initially takes it as a positive sign, but then you begin vehemently shaking your head.

“No, no, no. I couldn’t. Kookie’s was his baby, I could never just… no. Absolutely not.”

“Y/N —”

“No, Jae.” 

The next thing he knows, you’re standing up and rushing towards the kitchen. 

“Baby, where are you going?”

“What if I fuck it up, huh? What if I do that and it’s a total disaster and I sully the name of Kookie’s forever?” You run your fingers through your hair with a humorless laugh. “Jungkook put his everything into that place. He worked harder than anyone I know to make it what it is. Who the hell am I to step in and turn it into something else?”

He can’t tell you the truth; that you’re who he loves most in the world, second only to his twin. 

“You’re the one person he would want to do exactly that,” Jungkook counters.

“Why don’t I just help Jennie with the bar? Then she won’t be all by herself,” you suggest.

“Sweetheart, you’re a baker, not a manager.” 

“And Kookie’s is a bar, not a bakery.” 

Your steadfast refusals make Jungkook groan and rake his hands down his face. 

“Why don’t you believe me when I say this is what Kook would want? Me and Jennie both think so!”

“Because it’s one of the last things left of him in the world, Jae!” The tears from before quickly return as your voice breaks. “We sold his apartment. His motorcycle’s under a sheet in our garage. He’s buried six feet in the ground. But that building was his and it meant everything to him. I can’t… I can’t lose any more pieces of him.” 

Jungkook’s heart breaks at the sight of you crying over him yet again. You’ve been doing so well lately, but now you’re shaking and helplessly wiping away your tears.

“Baby,” he coos while closing the gap between you. “Can’t you see this is how we prevent that from happening?” When you glance up, Jungkook cups your face in his hands. “Jennie’s running herself ragged trying to handle everything. I can’t possibly manage a massive corporation and a dive bar. But if you breathe new life into it, Kookie’s will flourish into something even more extraordinary than it already is.” 

“But what if I let him down?” 

He reassuringly smiles and shakes his head.

“That’s not possible. Even if it crashes and burns, Jungkook will be so fucking proud of you.”

“Yeah?” 

The slight hint of belief in your voice brings him more joy than he can even express, but it manifests as him pressing his forehead against your own. 

“Without a doubt,” he whispers. 

You reply with a watery giggle before rising to your tiptoes for a hug. Jungkook automatically reciprocates, enveloping your waist and tugging you as close as possible while your cheek falls onto his shoulder.

“Thank you.” After pulling away, you trail your hands down his arms until you can slot your fingers together. “But I want to ask your parents first. It wouldn’t feel right moving forward without their permission.” 

“‘Course, I think they’ll appreciate that.”

Not only is Jungkook right, but his mom begins hysterically crying because she’s so thrilled about the idea. Of course, there are still plenty of administrative details to be sorted out before moving forward. But at least everyone’s on board now, and since Kookie’s is already registered as a food establishment, switching the business license and other legal documents should be easy. 

Him and Jennie agree to permanently close Kookie’s bar in thirty days and from there the three of you will work on transforming it into Kookie’s bakery instead.  

With such a big hurdle off Jungkook’s plate, he can finally focus entirely on his new role as CEO of Jeon Industries. It’s hard to believe he’s going into his second month already. Although he’s gotten a hang of it for the most part, there’s still plenty to learn. 

It certainly doesn’t help when everyone walks on eggshells around him because they know about the recent tragedy he experienced. He appreciates people’s sympathy, but it’s hard to adjust to his new career when most employees run in the opposite direction or dance around certain questions. 

Except for one person.

For whatever reason, a young administrative assistant has gotten the bright idea that a grieving man is more prone to cheat than one who isn’t. 

She isn’t his assistant, although she works on a team of direct reports, so Jungkook can’t necessarily avoid her. He’s spoken to his actual assistant about the issue, but is still hesitant to make a big fuss when he doesn’t know the company culture yet. Since discussing it with Mr. Park, she’s been kept at an arms length by only assigning her to group projects so he can avoid one-on-one interactions. 

It’s not like she outright flirts with him or gropes him in the employee lounge, but Jungkook knows when someone’s eyeing him. Between bringing him coffee and purposely leaning across his desk to incessantly peering inside his office to ask if he needs anything, her crush on him is more than obvious. 

He knows the behavior only began after he took over because he asked Mr. Park if it was normal, under the guise of not having noticed it before, and his assistant vehemently assured him it isn’t. Not to mention, Jaehyun wrote detailed notes about his on and off the clock life and none of them mention her. 

Jungkook’s yet to broach the topic with you because he doesn’t want you to worry or overreact. There’s nothing on earth that could ever make him look at anyone but you, and he’s also hoping the situation will diffuse on its own. 

If that were his only problem, he’d honestly have a lot less headaches. Alas, he has to pretend to know what he’s doing when he’s quite literally flying by the seat of his pants. 

Thankfully, Mr. Park is brilliant and totally understands his situation. Albeit, he believes it’s because of grief and not Jungkook’s complete lack of knowledge about the corporate world. 

The only silver lining is Jungkook’s a business owner himself; he knows all about profit margins, budget cuts, and enterprise risk management. The difference is Jeon Industries is a tech company, so he’s probably the least qualified person on the planet to be running the show. Hell, the computer at his apartment was still from 2009. 

Today’s a tough one in particular. Jungkook’s already been to three meetings and the clock hasn’t even struck noon. Plus, his first quarterly board meeting is this afternoon and one of the members is his very own father. If anyone’s going to see through him, it’ll be him. 

His dad personally trained Jaehyun to follow in his footsteps. So if Jungkook isn’t the absolute pinnacle of professionalism during this meeting, it could ruin everything. 

“Mr. Park,” Jungkook calls for him with a wave about an hour before showtime. 

His assistant saunters in with practiced elegance and it immediately lifts some weight off Jungkook’s shoulders. At least if he’s off his game today, Mr. Park can step up to the plate.  

“Mr. Jeon,” he greets him.

“As I’m sure you can tell, I’m not as prepared as I normally am for this. So, if you could ensure I don’t make a complete fool of myself, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

Mr. Park smiles and bows his head. 

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for, Mr. Jeon.” There’s a moment of silence before he clears his throat. “Actually, there’s something I’d like to add. If I may?” Jungkook nods. “Well, you’ve been back for just over a month, and I know it’s been quite hectic following your absence. Hence why I didn’t mention this before. But… you know you don’t have to call me Mr. Park, right? At least, not when we’re in private.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly recovers with a head shake and soft chuckle. 

“Right. I’m so sorry, Jimin. I think I’ve been overcompensating so much these last few weeks that I completely forgot about our usual decorum.” 

Jaehyun always referred to his assistant by his surname, so Jungkook had no idea they dropped the formality when alone together.

“It’s not a problem, Jaehyun. Just figured I would let you know.” 

Honestly, the sound of his first name, well, not his original one, puts his mind at ease even more. Jungkook isn’t used to strict corporate lingo, so this is much more comfortable and familiar in comparison. 

He and Jimin go over the meeting agenda together so Jungkook feels as prepared as possible before the receptionist calls to inform him the board members have arrived. 

After entering the conference room with Jimin hot on his tail, he pauses to take a few deep breaths. His eyes scan the room until he finds the only familiar face, who smiles back at him like the proudest man in the world. 

“Long time, no see, son,” his dad greets him with a warm hug. 

“Always a pleasure, Mr. Jeon,” Jungkook responds through a lighthearted laugh. 

He proceeds to shake hands with the remaining board members prior to everyone sitting around the large table. 

The first half goes even better than expected and Jungkook believes, for maybe the first time, that he might actually pull this off. But that changes when one of the board members pipes up during a transition between topics. 

“Jaehyun, I think we should take some time to discuss your brief hiatus from the position,” they state. 

Jungkook has to control his face, since his initial thought is how that has anything to do with the meeting.

“Discuss what, exactly?” 

His eyes flash towards his father, who appears equally confused.

“Well, given the circumstances, of which deeply affected not just one, but two members of this board, I believe it’s about time we talk about business continuity.”

“Business continuity?” 

It takes a lot of freaking willpower to keep his annoyance from sneaking into the question.

“Yes. It isn’t exactly conducive to progress if we lose our CEO and head of the board for an extended period of time,” the man explains. 

Jungkook slides his hands below the table before anyone sees him ball them into fists. The sheer audacity of this man to talk about his brother’s death like it’s something impeding their business is outrageous.

“Well, chairman, I don’t believe we have to worry about that considering I don’t have any more twin brothers to lose,” Jungkook sneers, as professionally as he can. 

“Jaehyun —”

“That’s Mr. Jeon… to you.” That sure shuts him up and after an unbearably awkward silence, Jungkook clears his throat. “Shall we proceed, gentleman?”

Everyone nods and although the room is filled with tension for the remainder of the meeting, it continues without any more hiccups. 

Afterwards, while Jungkook mingles with other board members, he notices his dad pulling the problem child aside. He excuses himself to join them, but before he’s able to reach the two men, he sees his dad dig his pointer finger into the man’s lapel.

“If you ever attempt to use my son’s death as a means of furthering your own agenda again, I will see that you never work another day in this industry. Are we clear?” His father threatens. 

“That’s not —”

“No? That wasn’t a soft launch for your family taking over this company if mine were suddenly incapable?” Jungkook’s dad scoffs. “I built this place from the ground up and it will remain in my name, and my name only, until the day it goes under. I’d sooner entrust it to my brilliant daughter-in-law than the likes of you.” He takes a single, daunting step closer to the board member. “Do I make myself clear, chairman?”

“Crystal,” the man flatly replies.

He rushes past Jungkook once the conversation ends as his dad steps closer to him.

“Thank you,” Jungkook says.

“No need, son.” His dad affectionately clasps his shoulder. “You handled it perfectly. I’m very proud of you.”

Following a deep sigh, Jungkook smiles before they decide to divide and conquer the rest of the board members. 

When he arrives home later that evening, you’re still at Kookie’s drawing up floor plans for the new layout with Jennie. It’s been about two weeks since the decision, but you’ve been cruising full speed ahead to transform it into your dream business. 

Jungkook heads straight to the home office beside the master bedroom so he can finish some leftover tasks before you come home. He hates working when you’re around, since he would much rather be spending time with you. Unfortunately, he isn’t even close to being done by the time he hears the door click shut. 

“Honey?” You holler from the first floor.

You appear in the doorway of the office soon after, but Jungkook only greets you with a quick glance and a wave. 

“Sorry, baby, I was hoping to be finished already,” he explains. 

The next thing he knows, your arms are around his neck and your head’s resting atop his. It’s almost comical how much comfort it brings him, as though a physical weight ascends off his shoulders just because you’re near. 

“That’s okay.” Your hands slide down until you can grab his own and hold them to his chest. “I just hope you aren’t stressing out about everything again.”

He chuckles. 

“When do I not?”

Jungkook hears you softly hum in his ear before you drop his hands to turn his head towards you. Your lips immediately land on his and it sets his entire body alight. He pulls you into his lap as his fingers sink into your hair, giving him complete control over the kiss. 

It isn’t heated or rushed, and yet there's more passion behind this lip lock than some of your steamier make outs. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You whisper. 

He shakes his head.

“Just this.”

His mouth conquers yours again, causing you to whimper as his tongue traces the seam of your lips before pushing inside. 

You two continue to kiss for some time, neither of you paying attention to the ticking clock on the wall. Not even Jungkook, who really should be considering he has so much still left to do. 

Eventually, his looming tasks weigh down on his brain enough to pull back and rest his forehead against your own. 

“Fuck, I could do that all night long,” he tells you through a smile. “But I gotta get this done first.” 

“What is it?” 

Jungkook faces his desk again and moves the various papers around so you can see. In turn, you lay your head on his shoulder while surveying all the different files. 

“Budget approvals, board notes, project management,” he lists. “You know, the usual.”

“That’s a lot, baby,” you counter. 

“Yeah, but it could be worse.”

“Are you sure you don’t need something to help you destress? I mean, you could be at this all night.” 

“What do you have in mind?” He thinks it’s a completely innocuous question, but rather than responding, you slide off his lap and onto your knees in front of him. “Woah, woah, wait.”

His eyes almost bulge out of his head as he grabs your forearms to stop you.

“What’s wrong?” 

You’re glancing up at him with the prettiest, shiniest eyes he’s ever seen and he swears his dick’s already rock hard just by looking at you. 

“Baby, you… you don’t have to do that.”

Your face of confusion tells him everything he needs to know before you even reply.

“But I want to,” you argue. “I haven’t tasted you in months. It’s killing me, to be honest.” 

Jungkook damn near whines out loud. He even has to let go of your arms so you don’t feel his hands shaking. He’s dreamed of having you in this exact position for well over a decade and he knows he isn’t strong enough to resist when you’re practically begging him.

This is also the moment of truth, because although he’s seen you naked plenty of times now, he’s been careful to only let you see him shirtless. Therefore, if for whatever reason he isn’t an exact match to Jaehyun, shit will genuinely hit the fan. 

“I know, but I don’t know if I’m ready to reciprocate just yet,” he claims. 

“That’s fine. It’s not a tit for tat thing.” Your hands slide up his legs and Jungkook automatically shutters. “Besides, that mouth of yours is always worth the wait.”

Shit, it’s good to know his brother was a munch. Then you won’t be suspicious when Jungkook eats you out for hours on end like he plans to the first time he gets a chance. 

The feeling of your fingers running up and down his inners thighs is like medieval torture. You look so damn pretty with those plush lips and rosy cheeks, and he doesn’t know how to say no to that face. He doesn’t want to say no.

There’s no reason to, right? For all intents and purposes, he is Jaehyun, and if this is going to last a lifetime, he has to stop being such a coward about intimacy.

He takes a deep breath while observing your seductive expression in order to memorize the sight. It’d be a crime if he weren’t able to recall exactly how you looked before he felt your lips around him for the first time. 

“Okay.”

His approval makes your eyes flicker alive and Jungkook naturally holds his breath as your hands roam to undo his belt. He lifts his hips so you can roll his slacks down, but the sound of his belt buckle meeting the floor sets off his entire nervous system. 

The problem is you’ve been giving Jaehyun head since you were a teenager, but this is a novel experience for Jungkook and he’s terrified his reaction will give him away. Especially considering he probably won’t last more than a couple minutes, if that. Not when it’s you who’ll be sucking him off. 

Clearly, he isn’t doing very well at shielding his anxiety because you pause and glance up just before your fingers graze his bulge.

“Honey, you're shaking.”

“Ye… yeah.”

“I don’t have to do this,” you note. “It’s supposed to help you relax, not the opposite.”

Jungkook mindlessly nods while racking his brain for a reasonable response. In truth, his head feels completely empty at the moment.

“I know, baby. And I really, really want you to. I just, I don’t know…” 

“Look, just take a nice, deep breath.” You inhale so he’ll follow suit. “And don’t focus on anything but me, okay?”

Unfortunately, that’s the problem. 

He takes your advice in part, though, and decides to focus on the sensations instead; how your hands feel on his legs and the way your breath tickles his skin. 

“As if I could ever think about anything else,” he teases to lighten the mood. 

His comment elicits a show stopping smile, but Jungkook doesn’t get to witness it for long because you quickly bend over to place a kiss on his twitching cock. Even through the fabric it feels like a lightning bolt down his spine and he nearly jumps from his seat as his hands ball into fists. 

You snicker while continuing to kiss him over his boxers. It turns Jungkook into a whiny mess, but his temperament seems to be encouraging because you lay your tongue out and glide it along the outline of his shaft. 

“Oh, fu — fuck, baby.” 

Jungkook’s head tips back in ecstasy, which is pretty embarrassing when you haven’t even touched him yet. He could honestly come from this alone, and he’s sure you can tell. So, he implements every ounce of strength he has to keep himself in check. 

Your mouth’s already driving him crazy, but nothing could prepare him for you hooking your fingers into his waistband and tugging his boxers to the floor. 

He sucks in a sharp breath of anticipation as he awaits your possible negative reaction, but you simply hum and slide your hands back up his legs, allowing him to exhale in relief. 

“God, I missed you,” you mumble under your breath before wrapping your fingers around his cock. 

Jungkook almost loses his goddamn marbles from that single touch alone. The sensation of your soft, delicate digits on his skin is incomprehensible and he can only imagine how amazing your mouth will feel. 

He doesn’t have to wait much longer to find out because following a couple languid strokes, you begin kissing and licking his tip. 

You moan over the taste of his precum while circling your tongue across his head. He’s been leaking since you two first kissed and you’re making quick work of swallowing it all. 

Jungkook doesn’t dare lift his head to watch in fear of busting right then and there. Just knowing you’re tasting him for the first time is enough to send his mind spiraling, not to mention actually feeling your tongue on his skin. 

After some time of you slowly jacking him off and teasing his tip, you start suckling on his head with feather light pressure. It’s worse than a death by a thousand cuts, and Jungkook whimpers as one of his hands encapsulates your own on his thigh.

“Sweetheart, pl — please.”

When you giggle, the vibrations shoot down his dick and make him groan like you’ve mortally wounded him.

“If you want me to suck your dick, you gotta watch me do it,” you taunt. 

Lord have mercy.

Jungkook obeys regardless of the danger, and of course, seeing you mere centimeters away from his cock with your hand wrapped around his base almost stops his heart. 

“Oh, my baby,” he sighs. 

On instinct, his opposite hand rises to pet your hair and tuck some behind your ear, letting him fully admire your pretty face and swollen lips. 

You innocently blink up at him like you aren’t holding his sanity in your palm. He wishes he had a camera to capture the moment forever, but he settles on maintaining eye contact until you sever it by licking his shaft from base to tip. 

The wet friction causes him to brutally cry out and he’s forced to squeeze his eyes shut to stay calm. You don’t stop, either, despite your warning about him watching you work. Instead, you repeat the same motion over and over until his whole cock is shiny with saliva. 

“You taste so good, Jae.”

“Fuck.” His chest is rising and falling like he just took a shot of pure adrenaline. “Keep… keep going. Please.”

Jungkook can’t stop his thighs or hands from trembling, but he manages to open his eyes in time to witness you taking his head inside your mouth again. Unlike before, you don’t spend time teasing him and immediately guide him deeper down your throat. 

With every inch you swallow, Jungkook feels his rational slipping further away and his nonsensical noises of pleasure grow even louder. His grip on your scalp also tightens to the point your hair naturally knots around his fingers.

You hum at the sensation as your head continues to descend until your nose is buried in his pubic hair. Once there, you hold still and swallow a couple times so your throat constricts around him. Jungkook gasps and yanks on your hair in response, all while his neck cranes back yet again. 

“Shit, that feels so fucking good.”

His praises must be good motivation because before Jungkook can even wrap his mind around you actually doing this, you begin bobbing at an ambitious pace. 

Gone is any playfulness as you hollow your cheeks and repeatedly envelope his length with expert precision. Each time you complete a lap, you make sure his entire shaft sinks down your throat. You’re also still humming with your tongue pressed against the underside of his dick so it’s perfectly wet and sloppy. 

Speaking of, the sound of his cock moving in and out of your mouth is obscene, especially in combination with his endless panting and moaning. But it doesn’t seem to phase you in the slightest while you breathe through your nose and continue without reprieve. 

Jungkook’s been given his fair share of blowjobs, and even without considering this is something he’s yearned for since he was a teenager, it’s easily the best one he’s ever received. 

Not only is your mouth unbelievably warm and soft, but you know exactly how to keep your lips in a taught circle. Couple that with the tightness of your throat and friction from your tongue, and he’s already a goner. 

This must just be the skillset one acquires after sucking the same dick for fifteen years. 

“Y/N… sweetheart… holy fucking shit.” 

His words may be aimless and partially slurred from how drunk he is off the euphoria you’re providing, but it spurs you on. As soon as he finishes rambling, your head speeds up and you start swirling your tongue around the ridge of his cock every time you reach his tip. 

The new wave of effort sends Jungkook into a tailspin. Both his hands ferociously clench and his teeth grind together with a strained grunt. It feels so amazing he can’t comprehend reality anymore and he knows if he glances down at you, he’ll bust. 

“God — ah, fuck.” 

He’s not even sure how long you’ve been sucking him off; time seems to be simultaneously moving at light speed and standing totally still.

An intense vibration rolls down his shaft when you moan over his senseless praises. Afterwards, you slow down by using the tip of your tongue to trace his thick, pulsing veins and lap up the precum on his slit. 

“Come for me, baby,” you beg between licks. “Make me choke.”

“Oh, sweet Jesus.”

Alright. Time to hold a seance with his brother so he can explain how his sweet, lovely wife ended up with such a filthy fucking mouth. 

Not that Jungkook minds, but his poor balls that are unbearably heavy from how badly he needs to come are demanding an answer. 

You bring him between your lips again with a snicker, sheathing his entire cock deep inside your esophagus. When the action makes you gag and choke, Jungkook whines as his fingernails scratch your scalp. Besides the sound itself turning him on, the sensation of your throat tightening is ethereal. 

It certainly doesn’t take him long to heed your demand. Not when you’re harmoniously bobbing and sucking like your only job all these years was giving head. 

“Y/N, I’m gonna…” The mere hint that he’s close makes you work even harder to break him off, nearly shattering his subconscious in the process. “Holy shit, baby!” 

He squeezes his eyes shut again while using your hair to ground himself. As if anything could possibly save him now. 

When he comes, it’s with an exuberant, broken scream as his thighs shake and his balls pump semen into your mouth. His dick twitches erratically where it’s buried down your throat, but you stay still so you can swallow every last drop. 

Jungkook practically wails in ecstasy while you suck and lick along his shaft until he’s completely spent. In fact, he’s so delirious by the time his orgasm ends he doesn’t even register you pulling back with a wet pop. 

“Jae?” You call when he doesn’t budge for a full thirty seconds.

“I’m… okay…”

His current state causes you to giggle.

“Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel like she did a good job.”

He chuckles, although it’s weak.

“I’m not even trying, sweetheart. I just can’t fucking think right now.”

You rise from your knees before gently tugging his chin down so your eyes meet. 

“That good, huh?” Jungkook slowly nods with a glassy, faraway gleam. “I’m pleasantly surprised. Most of the time I can’t make you come from oral alone.” 

Damn, Jae, didn’t realize you had the stamina of a fucking ox. 

Then again, maybe Jungkook would have the same ability if he’d been getting his dick sucked like that since he was sixteen. Lucky bastard.

“It’s been a while,” he defends.

“Worth the wait?”

Jungkook enthusiastically nods.

“You have no fucking idea.”

His response produces another laugh from you as you bend down to kiss him. 

With him obviously less stressed post-orgasm, you leave him alone with his work so you can start dinner. It takes Jungkook a few minutes to get his head back in the right place for completing all his tasks, but after another hour or so, he files the paperwork away in his briefcase.

Once his work’s done, he spends some time digesting what actually happened. He still can't quite grasp the reality of your lips wrapping around his cock or you swallowing his cum like your favorite drink. Logically, he knows you believe you’ve done so countless times as his wife, but that doesn’t make it any easier for him to compute. 

He also feels a little sick to his stomach, because every time his eyes close he pictures his twin looking at him in disgust. 

Jungkook understands how wrong this all is, but he can’t bring himself to regret his decision. Not when he can see how happy you are. If he hadn’t taken Jaehyun’s place, there’s no possibility of that being true today. 

He just has to remind himself he didn’t do this to get you on your knees. He did it to protect you; to keep you from experiencing the utter torture of losing the man you love. That’s not to say Jungkook isn’t also reaping the benefits of his choices, but whatever positive consequences there are, they aren’t purposeful.

Said benefits only escalate following that evening. Not only because Jungkook’s gradually becoming more comfortable being intimate with you, but due to the increased difficulty of resisting you.

Like this morning, when he wakes up to find you in the skimpiest tank top and short-shorts known to man. At the exact moment he reaches the kitchen, you happen to bend over to pull your treats out of the oven, giving him a perfect view of the light pink, silky fabric riding up and showing off your ass. 

Jungkook genuinely has to bite his fist to keep himself from moaning aloud, but it doesn’t prevent his eyes from rolling back. If he had less moral fortitude, he would slam the oven shut and take you right here and now. Alas, he isn’t an animal, no matter how much you make him feel like one sometimes. 

“Morning, baby,” you chirp after setting the tray down and turning in his direction. “Sleep well?” 

“Mmhm,” he responds through tight lips. When your eyebrows rise in evident suspicion, he fakes a cough. “Sorry, uh, you’re just…” After a second, he decides to simply concede with a laugh and disbelieving head shake. “You’re just so goddamn sexy, baby.” 

“Oh? You don’t say?”

You’re sporting a sly smirk which tells Jungkook you were expecting that reaction and he suddenly gawks at your trickery

“Wait a second. Is this little ensemble on purpose?” 

You shrug and giggle to yourself before turning around to place the freshly baked desserts on a cooling rack so you can move the second batch into the oven. 

The realization you’re actually trying to seduce him almost knocks him onto his ass. For starters, it’s not even remotely necessary, but secondly, you should never feel a need to do so. He’s supposed to be your husband, and if you’re unaware of exactly how much he craves you, then it’s his job to show you.

Hence him stepping forward so when you face him again, he can snatch your waist and effortlessly lift you onto the counter. 

“Woah!” His actions leave you giggling with a faint pink blush on your cheeks. “What do you think you’re doing, Mr. Jeon?”

Jungkook snickers while kissing along your neck and exposed shoulder.

“Well, Mrs. Jeon, I’m putting this pretty outfit of yours to good use.”

As his lips travel across your skin, his hands trail up your inner thighs so he can pry your legs apart and stand in the open space. From there, he inches his fingers upwards until he can feel the heat radiating from your core. 

“And how do you plan to — mmph.”

He silences you with a searing, messy kiss; his tongue slipping inside your mouth and swirling around until you whimper.

“Like this,” he whispers against your lips.

Not even a second later, he thrusts his two middle fingers into your cunt before silencing your zealous moan with his mouth. 

One would assume you’re who will receive the most pleasure from his behavior, but Jungkook’s moan is almost louder than yours. He can’t help it when he’s finally feeling the inside of your pussy for the first time. You’re just as warm, soft, and tight as he always imagined and the sensation of your walls clamping down on his digits is already driving him insane. 

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Jungkook begins curling his fingers so he can explore all of you, and especially find the spots that make you tick. “I almost forgot how amazing you feel.”

You hum between smooches.

“Then maybe don’t wait so long next time,” you tease.

When he smirks at your remark, it momentarily severs your kiss. 

“Oh, it won’t ever happen again. I promise you.”

With that, he forces his fingers deeper inside you and starts pumping them at a rapid pace. The change in tempo makes you gasp and whine as your head drops to his shoulder. Your hands also rise from the countertop so you can hold onto his biceps for dear life. 

You’re not the only one slowly losing it, because Jungkook can barely think straight. Of course, he can’t. Your walls are relentlessly pulsing and every inch of you feels like heaven to touch. Not to mention how reactive you are. Every time he pushes his digits in and makes a come hither motion, you moan directly into his ear. 

If it’s this amazing with his fingers inside you, he doesn’t even wanna think about how wonderful it’ll feel to have your velvety cunt wrapped around his cock. 

Jungkook isn’t the type to focus on his own pleasure, so as much as he wants to stay buried in you forever, he pulls his hand back to massage your clit instead. You immediately cry out and dig your nails into his skin, the taught circles he’s drawing leaving you desperate for an anchor. 

You’re so wet it’s almost too easy, but he still glides his fingers through your folds every so often to gather your arousal. 

“Ja… Jae,” you whimper when he applies more pressure.

“That feel good, baby?” Rather than answering, you keen. “You like it when I stretch you apart with my fingers, huh?” 

“Please.”

“Please, what?” 

His opposite hand tips your chin up so he can see your eyes, which are watery from the intense pleasure he’s providing. 

“Don’t stop.” 

A sinister smile appears as he mocks you with a head tilt.

“What was that, sweetheart?” He instantly retracts his hand and you whine even louder. “Tell me what you want.”

“Jae —”

“Nuh uh. I didn’t ask what my name was.” Jungkook squishes your cheeks to purse your lips. “Tell. Me. What. You. Want.”

When he releases your face, your mouth ends up forming a natural pout. He has no idea if Jaehyun ever teased you during sex, but he loves how cute you look when you beg. 

“Please, baby, I want you to fuck me.”

Jungkook doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to hearing such dirty words fall from your mouth. 

“Yeah? You mean like this?” 

Only his fingertips return to your core as he teases you by lightly tracing your slit, causing you to arch into him and whimper.

“No.” You melodramatically shake your head. “I need more.”

“More?” When his thumb just barely grazes your clit, your whole body lurches forward. “You’re so sensitive, baby.”

“That’s because I need you so fucking bad.”

It genuinely seems like you’ll start crying if he continues, so as much as Jungkook’s enjoying this, he wants you to feel good more than anything else. 

“You need my fingers?” 

He thrusts his middle digits back inside while keeping his thumb on your clit to give you multiple points of friction. 

“Mmhm.”

“And what do you want me to do with them?” Before you can answer, he spreads them apart to stretch your hole even more. “Something like this?” You aggressively nod and it makes Jungkook snicker in satisfaction. “Alright. I’ll take care of my pretty little wife.”

After alternating a couple times between slowly curling and scissoring again, he adds a third finger and marries the pace with his thumb. 

Each time he pushes into you, both a wet squelch and breathy moan floods the air between your faces. Jungkook eventually kisses you so he can drink up every noise you make, but he could listen to you whimper and pant forever if you let him.

It’s hard to focus on the dual movements of his hand and mouth, not necessarily because of the multitasking aspect, but because his brain always goes blank when he touches you. 

He still can’t get over how soft your pussy feels or how warm your mouth is against his own. You’re a real life dream wrapped up in pretty, pink silk that he wants to shred with his bare hands. But this is enough for now; watching you writhe on the counter because of what he's doing to you. 

Just then, the oven timer goes off and you immediately attempt to pull back. 

“Baby,” you mumble into the kiss. “The cookies.” 

“Not until you come for me,” he orders while gripping your face tighter to keep you still. 

His fingers move with even more fervor, causing your moans to grow in volume and pitch. You’re practically yelping into his mouth and it makes Jungkook’s head spin with desire. 

“Fuck, right there.”

“Go on, baby. Make a mess for me.”

You enthusiastically whine when your body tenses and your pussy releases all over his fingers. It’s immaculate, to say the very least, experiencing your walls constrict before totally relaxing again. They become even more swollen and slick after, sending Jungkook’s eyes into his cranium. He honestly believes he could come just from feeling you do so.

“Jae,” you cry as your entire frame shakes against him.

“I know, I know.” 

He continues to fuck you through the orgasm while gently nipping at your lips. His soft kisses are the complete opposite from how he’s spooning essence out of you and using it to rub your clit. It’s the perfect dichotomy between love and lust that he’s certain is only prolonging your euphoria.

Just before pulling his hand away from your core, he lets go of your face so he can fumble around the counter for the pot holder. Once found, he uses one hand to open the oven and yank the treats out so they don’t burn. He then kicks the door shut and flips the heat off in one smooth motion.

As soon as he leaves your cunt empty, you grumble in disappointment while another pout appears on your lips. 

Jungkook giggles at the adorable sight before giving you a quick peck and lifting his hand so he can lick his digits clean. The very instant he experiences his initial taste of you, he groans so loud it vibrates his chest and his eyes close out of pure bliss. 

“Fuck,” he grunts around his fingers. “S’fucking delicious.”

He isn’t even close to being done enjoying your sweetness when you tug his hand towards your own mouth and wrap your lips around his first three fingers. Jungkook’s eyes fly open because of your sudden boldness, but they quickly turn heavy as he watches you suck your cum off him. 

“Like what you see?” You ask after releasing his digits so you can lick his palm instead. 

“Christ, Y/N. You’re gonna make me bust without even touching me.”

You giggle and drop his hand with a final swirl of your tongue around his thumb. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Ah, so he and his twin were both entirely helpless before you. 

Jungkook kisses you again in lieu of a response, mostly because he doesn’t know another way to express how utterly obsessed with you he is. You two proceed to make out for a gluttonous amount of time; far too enamored with one another to stop despite the smell of fresh baked goods wafting in the air. 

Eventually, you manage to separate long enough for Jungkook to help you off the counter so you can check on your creations. 

“Not too burnt, I hope?”

“Nope! All thanks to your little trick.” You wink at him before flipping over the macarons to inspect them. “Little crispy, but nothing I can’t fix. I’m just recipe testing, anyway.”

“How’s the menu coming along?” 

You rest your back against the opposite counter so you’re facing each other.

“Pretty good. I’ll have all my staples down once I nail this recipe.” Without looking, you twist one arm behind you to grab a treat. “I also decided to name each one after our friends and family.”

“Oh?” 

“They’re based on everyone’s favorite recipe of mine. So I’ve got Jungkook’s chocolate chip cookies, Jaehyun’s blueberry scones, Jennie’s banana cream tarts, Y/N’s vanilla cupcakes, my mom’s dark chocolate fudge brownies, my dad’s coffee cake, your dad’s strawberry strudel, and these are your mom’s red velvet macarons.” 

“Wow, sweetheart,” Jungkook cheers. “You’re moving right along.” 

“Oh, yeah. This bakery’s going to be legendary!” You toss a cookie at Jungkook this time. “And I’ll be taste testing so many desserts I’ll probably double in size before the new year.” 

He snorts.

“Yeah. Sure you will, Cupcake.” Jungkook turns around to grab a drink from the fridge following his comment, so he doesn’t witness all your features expanding in shock. It isn’t until he faces you again that he sees your expression. “What’s with the face?”

“You just called me Cupcake, Jae.”

Although Jungkook’s heart sinks into his stomach, he plays pretend by scrunching up his face.

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Yes, you did.”

“You probably just heard me wrong. Sweetheart sounds pretty similar.”

No, it doesn’t, you flippin’ idiot.

As expected, you disagreeably shake your head. 

“No way. I know what I heard. I’ll never forget what that sounds like.”

Alright, onto plan B. Play dumb. 

“Well… maybe I did? I don’t know. I can’t remember. But it must have been a Freudian slip or something.” 

That makes sense, right? You just mentioned the word a moment prior so it would still be fresh in his head. 

Thankfully, you nod.

“For sure. It just surprised me, that's all,” you explain. “I miss hearing it so much. I found this video from our vacation to the States a few years ago and you hear Kookie call me that a couple times. I watch it on bad days.”

“You still have bad days?” You nod again, albeit much more solemnly. It’s a silly question considering he still has them, too. Both of you probably always will, but that’s why having one another to lean on is so important. “Will you show me?” 

With utmost enthusiasm, you whip out your phone and join him on the opposite side of the kitchen. You turn the device horizontally after finding the video in question, which has a little star to show it’s one of your favorites. 

When the video initially begins, you and Jaehyun are staring into the camera while setting it up. Then his face turns towards you with a soft, adoring smile because you’re still obsessively tweaking the angle until it’s just right. 

“Why are we doing this again?” He asks without ever breaking his ardent gaze.

You twist your head to answer him.

“So we can take photos together. We’ll pose in front of this and then screenshot the ones we like,” you explain. 

Jaehyun’s mouth forms an O of realization before he steals a smooch just as Jungkook walks into frame.

“And what are the lovebirds up to?” He calls from the kitchen behind you and Jaehyun.

It feels weird seeing him and his brother on screen together. Sometimes he forgets there were originally two of them. He wasn’t always alone. There was a time not too long ago when he was truly happy and whole. 

“Setting up the camera,” Jaehyun answers him in the video. “Also Y/N made pancakes, but someone slept through breakfast.”

On screen, Jungkook’s mouth drops open before he scurries over to you both.

“You’re kidding,” he huffs. “Cupcake! How could you betray me like this?”

Your eyes crinkle in the corners when you giggle at his antics and even through the phone, Jungkook can feel your joy.

“Well, I know how you love your sleep,” you defend yourself.

He scoffs and theatrically crosses his arms. 

“Yeah, well, I love you and you’re baking much more.” You send him an affectionate eye roll as Jaehyun strolls out of frame, but you can still see your interconnected hands refusing to part until the very last moment. “Will you make some for me?”

“What? It’s almost lunchtime.”

“Please, Cupcake?” Jungkook’s sporting both the biggest puppy eyes imaginable and a deep pout. “For your favorite brother-in-law in the whole wide world?”

“You’re my only —”

“Oop! Still your favorite.”

A good ten seconds passes with Jungkook’s past self waiting in eager anticipation for you to fold. Which you do following an adorable giggle.

“Fine, fine,” you concede. “Because you’re my favorite, I suppose I must.”

Jungkook’s bellowing, proud laugh echoes through the phone as he follows you into the kitchen right before the video ends. 

Once the screen goes dark, a tandem sniffle breaks the silence. You and Jungkook each turn your heads and unsurprisingly, find matching bittersweet expressions that you chuckle over together. 

“He was such a little shit,” Jungkook states while swiping at a stray tear. 

“Yeah, but he was my little shit.” You dry your eyes as well before pocketing your phone and facing him. “Not a single day goes by that I don’t think of him.”

He warmly smiles and tucks some hair behind your ear.

“Me, too.” His fingers trail down until he can cup your jaw. “You wanna talk to him? He’s getting antsy in here.”

Hearing you giggle at his question makes everything feel worth it. Jungkook could listen to your laugh on repeat and still never get sick of it. 

“No, just tell him to keep his voice down. I don’t need any more surprise ‘Cupcakes’ breaking my heart without warning.” 

Jungkook nods and bends down to give you a brief peck. 

“I’ll let him know,” he tells you. 

You proceed to finish up your recipe testing while Jungkook works on the administrative paperwork involved in changing the bar into a bakery. Next month renovations begin, so you two will be a lot busier overseeing everything.

He’s still busy at work, too. Following the board meeting, even more projects and approvals land on his desk until he's practically drowning in files. Being at home smelling whatever dessert you’re currently perfecting would be so much nicer. Alas, he’ll be stuck in this stuffy office for the next thirty or so years. 

At least there’s good coffee in the employee lounge and he can escape his duties to pour himself a cup. He’s only just set his Jeon Industries mug on the counter to grab a snack from the staff pile when he hears someone filling their own cup behind him. 

His head whips around in an instant because he knows there wasn’t enough left for more than one cup. Sure, he was going to start another pot after, but now he’ll have to wait. 

Except once he faces the fellow employee, he realizes it’s the last person he ever wants to encounter. The young admin assistant who’s borderline obsessed with him is standing barely a foot away and she steps even closer to offer him the full mug.

“Here you go, Mr. Jeon,” she chirps. “I figured you could use a hand since you’re so busy all the time.” 

“That’s not necessary, Mrs. Kim,” he flatly responds.

“Ms.” 

Jungkook knows this, but he purposely uses the wrong honorific in hopes it’ll pose as a reminder that he has a missus himself.

“Right.” As smoothly as possible, he side steps around her to create some distance. “I appreciate the gesture, but I’m more than capable of pouring my own coffee.”

“Oh, I know.” Unfortunately, she follows him over to the counter where he’s readying another pot. “But you have so much on your plate already. It’s the least any of us can do to help out.” His blood runs cold when he feels her fingers on his bicep. “Especially considering what you’ve been through.”

He shakes her hand off like it burns before sliding away towards the fridge, and luckily, she doesn’t encroach this time.

“I’m doing just fine, Ms. Kim,” he declares. 

She’s sporting an over exaggerated frown now and although she probably believes she looks adorable, Jungkook wants to yack.

“Well, the whole team is always available if you need anything, even just someone to listen.”

The whole team. Right. 

“I’m very blessed to have a wife who listens to me whenever I need it.” The young woman’s face contorts with deep green envy and it actually makes him feel a little better. She could use a good knock down a couple pegs. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Wait, what about the coffee?” 

The drink still lies in her hands which are outstretched between them and Jungkook’s almost tempted to accept it so he doesn’t have to wait another fifteen minutes. But he also refuses to give off the impression he enjoys her advances.

“No need. I’ll just have Mr. Park bring me one.” 

With that, he bolts from the room as professionally as possible.

He breathes a sigh of relief upon removing himself from the situation. It’s been a while since he’s had to deal with her one-on-one because of Jimin’s clever workarounds, so he isn’t used to fending her off. 

She seems to be growing bolder, and he wonders if it’s about time to tell you about the situation. It would be disastrous if something happens and then it seems as though he was hiding it from you.  

When Jungkook arrives home for the evening, you’re in the kitchen with a romcom on in the background like usual. It’s clear you hear him enter because you throw out a, “Hi, honey!” without looking away from the dough you’re rolling.

Unfortunately for you, Jungkook refuses to be without your attention for even a single second. So, he strolls up behind you so he can engulf your waist and tug you into his chest. 

He immediately begins peppering your neck and profile with kisses while you giggle and squeal in delight.

“Baby!” 

“Oh, I love you so much,” he growls into your skin. “My beautiful, beautiful wife.”

“My hands are covered in dough, Jae,” you warn him.

Jungkook merely snickers and trails his lips back down your throat. 

“Then cover me in it, too, while you’re at it.” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting following that comment, but it isn’t you spinning around in his arms to push your hands into his face. “Ack!”

You cackle relentlessly as you spread the sticky ingredient all over, including getting plenty inside his mouth. 

“You mean like this?”

“Jesus… baby… I concede! Have mercy!” 

Once your hands fall away, Jungkook seizes the opportunity to snatch your waist again and rub his face against your own to transfer some dough onto you. You quickly screech and shove him away, but he’s already mirroring your mischievous laughter from a moment ago.

“Meanie,” you pout while wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“You started it!”

Like the mature adult you are, you stick your tongue out at him. Yet you also hand over a rag so he can clean up his own face. 

“Did it at least taste good?”

Jungkook snickers at your priorities.

“Delicious as ever, sweetheart,” he assures you.

A comfortable silence moves through the room after Jungkook tosses the towel beside the sink and you return to your creation. 

It’s honestly fantastic witnessing your magic. You always look so calm and content when you’re baking. Sometimes he’ll just sit across from you on one of the bar stools with a lovesick grin on his face. 

In fact, Jungkook gets so lost in admiring you he misses the start of your next sentence.

“… so we should go this weekend.” 

Upon realizing he zoned out, he shakes his head. 

“Sorry?” 

You chuckle.

“I said, with renovations starting soon we won’t have much free time, and we haven’t gone ice skating yet this year. So, we should go this weekend,” you explain. 

Ice skating, also known as your and Jaehyun’s favorite winter pastime. You’re both excellent at the sport, since you learned as a child and proceeded to teach Jaehyun. Jungkook was offered lessons multiple times, but never accepted for fear of falling for you even more during your one-on-one time. 

Now the decision’s biting him in the ass because his lack of skill will instantly give him away. He could decline with the excuse of not feeling it this year, given the circumstances, but he knows you’d benefit from some normalcy. Plus, ice skating in particular always makes you happy. 

He’ll just have to find a solution this time and then get private lessons so he’s ready for next year. 

“Sure, baby. Sounds like a plan.”

Now all that’s left is to actually think of a plan.

By Saturday morning, he decides to fake an injury once you arrive at the ice skating rink. That way you can still partake in your favorite activity while he watches safe and sound from the sidelines. 

His acting debut begins the moment you two kiss goodbye so you can each change into your skates in the gendered locker rooms. Jungkook waits with one skate on until he receives a text stating you’re ready. From there, he limps into the arena, aided by the disproportionate weight of the single skate. 

When you spot him exiting the locker room, your eyes widen and you scurry over as fast as you can in skates.

“Honey! What happened?” 

You look so distraught over him being in pain he almost forgets the whole thing in lieu of some lame excuse for the loss of his previously honed skills. 

“I took a tumble trying to walk and chew gum at the same time,” he jokes. 

A half scoff, half chuckle leaves you while guiding him into a seat.

“Are you alright?”

“It hurts, but it’s nothing some rest won’t fix. I twisted it, that’s all.” 

“Well, we should go home and —” 

“What? No. You should still go out there. We came all this way, you’re already wearing your skates, and it’s your favorite sport.” He cradles your cheek with a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, baby. I’ll have just as much fun admiring you from right here.”

“Jae,” you whine.

“Nuh uh. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

He kisses away your pout before you reluctantly agree and help him elevate his “bad” leg. You attempt to stay a little longer, but he gives your ass a nice, firm spank and demands you go have fun already. 

You do as he says, but not without teasing him about staying put on your way into the rink. 

Jungkook’s never actually witnessed you skate, but boy, is it a sight to behold. As you are with everything, the second your blades hit the ice, you look so graceful you could be a professional. And besides your evident talent, you’re sporting the most gorgeous, joyful grin he’s seen on your face in a long time. 

You steal his attention with an endearing wave during your first lap and he eagerly returns the gesture. 

There’s nothing he cherishes more than seeing you like this, and it’s a reminder of why he chose to live out the rest of his life as his brother. To keep that beautiful smile right where it belongs. 

After about an hour of skating in your own little world, along with multiple visits to the railing near Jungkook, you exit the ice with a winded, but content expression.

“Woo, I might be out of practice,” you claim.

“Look who’s talking,” Jungkook counters while pointing at his ankle.

You laugh and bend down to remove your skates before offering your hands to help him stand. He’s already taken off his singular skate, but continues the ruse by limping alongside you en route to the car. 

“I hope you still had fun, even from the sidelines,” you tell him during your walk through the parking lot.

“Of course, I did, sweetheart. I love watching you enjoy yourself.” He disappointedly clicks his tongue. “I am sorry I wasn’t out there with you, though. I know it’s our thing, but I hope you still managed to have a good time.”

Before you’re able to answer, an interruption in the form of someone calling for him ceases the conversation. 

“Mr. Jeon!” 

Even without turning around, Jungkook knows who’s hollering, and his stomach sinks. 

Your hands are currently intertwined, so when you pivot to locate the source, it forces him to follow suit even though that’s the last thing he wants. If he were alone, he would just pretend he didn’t hear anything.

“Hi, Mr. Jeon,” Ms. Kim repeats once she’s closer. “Fancing meeting you here.” 

Jungkook chuckles awkwardly, which causes you to glance in his direction with an arched eyebrow. 

“That it is,” he cordially responds. “Sweetheart, this is one of our admins, Mrs. Kim, and —” 

“Oh, it’s Ms.”

The unnecessary interruption leaves Jungkook gritting his teeth as your second brow rises to meet the other. 

“Right. Ms. Kim, this is my wife, Y/N.”

You outstretch your hand and open your mouth to greet her, but she beats you to the punch with an aggressive hand shake. 

“It’s so lovely to meet you, Mrs. Jeon. I’ve only heard wonderful things.”

“Well, I sure hope so,” you chuckle, although it’s hollower than normal. 

“What brings you two here?” 

He would do literally anything to end this conversation, but not if it’ll make you any more suspicious. 

“Uh, it’s kind of our thing,” he answers. 

“Really? It’s my sister and I’s as well. We come every year.”

“That’s so sweet,” you interject. 

In an act so obvious Jungkook’s eyes almost bulge from his head, she completely ignores your statement by pivoting her body so she’s directly facing him and him alone.

“You know, maybe we could do a work event here. You and I could teach everyone else how to skate,” she proposes. 

If he could hop in Jaehyun’s casket six feet under at this very moment, he would. In what world does this woman believe that's an appropriate thing to suggest at all, let alone in front of his wife?

“The company usually prioritizes events where everyone can participate without needing to be taught.” 

“Oh, right. Well, maybe just you and I could come then. Like, while we’re on our lunch break or something.”

His brain short circuits. Because did she really just ask him out in front of his wife?

It’s clear you also realize how blatantly audacious she is when you scoff and shake your head in disbelief. 

“No, I don’t think so,” he firmly rejects her. “I’ve only got one skating partner, Ms. Kim, and she’s right here.”

Jungkook throws his arm around you, but he feels you shy away from the touch. It sets his nerves on fire and he looks down to check your reaction, but all he finds is a blank, annoyed expression.

“Of course, so silly of me to even ask,” she rambles in embarrassment. “Well, uh, it was nice seeing you, Mr. Jeon, and nice meeting you, Mrs. Jeon.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you reply through a clenched jaw. 

Following an irritatingly cheerful wave, she leaves you two alone to enter the arena. 

The very second she’s out of sight, you turn on your heel and stomp towards the car. At which point Jungkook scrambles after you so he can remedy the situation. 

“Baby —” 

“What the fuck was that, Jaehyun?”

Jungkook blinks a couple times in shock.

“Okay, woah. No need to use the government name.”

“This isn’t funny,” you sneer.

“Sweetheart, she’s just some young, dumb admin assistant with a crush on me. It’s not a big deal. Especially when I think I make it very clear I’m not interested,” he explains.

“Wait.” You throw your hands up while your brain decodes his words. “That sounds like you’ve dealt with her before.” When Jungkook doesn’t deny the claim, your jaw drops. “I’m sorry, are you telling me this wasn’t the first time?”

He has to be extremely careful moving forward. He’s never been in a relationship, so this is technically his first real fight. 

“Yes, but nothing to this extent.” You immediately open your mouth to respond, but he stops you with his hand. “Listen, all she ever does is bring me coffee and spark up surface level conversations, but I already spoke to Jimin. He keeps her far, far away from me most of the time so we only interact in group settings.” 

 You scoff and cross your arms.

“Oh, so you’ve got some pretty young thing hand-delivering you coffee now?” 

Jungkook gawks at the accusation.

“I never accept it!” 

“But it happens enough that you had to talk to Jimin about it? I mean, why does she even still work for you?” 

“Because she may be annoying and naive, but I don’t want her to lose her job. I mean, who knows what her situation is like,” he tells you his reasoning. “She’s harmless, Y/N.”

A head shake is your initial reply.

“No. That was not harmless, it was infuriating.” 

“That was out of the norm, alright?” 

“I don’t care, Jae!” He’s hopeful you’ll present an actual resolution, but you just question him again. “How long has this been going on, anyway?” 

He gnaws on his lower lip, but not because the answer is bad, it’s just painful.

“Since Jungkook died.” Just like his own, your face falls a little. “I think she has this strange idea that a grieving man is more likely to cheat than one who isn’t.”

“Is he?” 

His train of thought comes to a steaming halt as his eyes widen and a deep frown overtakes his face.

“How can you ask me that?” Not only does your question sting, but he feels offended on behalf of his twin. Because the idea of Jaehyun, who loved you more than life itself, ever cheating, is downright preposterous. “I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen, and you think there’s even a chance I would stray for some little corporate girl who uses wedding rings like dating apps?”

When you simply shrug, it breaks his heart.

“It would explain why we haven’t had sex in months. They always say if your man isn’t sleeping with you, it’s because he’s getting it from somewhere else,” you accuse him.

He can’t even begin to comprehend you reaching that conclusion. Isn’t his utter devotion to you as transparent as the sky? Then again, it’s his own fault for not being able to meet your needs and therefore making you think he doesn’t want you.

“Is that really what you believe?” You shrug again. “Y/N, you know why we’ve been slow to start again after everything. I explained why I’m not ready and I thought you understood. I’m trying, baby. I swear, I am, but I just can’t yet.”

The sincerity in his tone in combination with his somber, guilty expression causes your anger to completely melt away. 

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.” Hope soars in his chest when you step closer until you’re only inches apart. “You’re right, that wasn’t fair.” Your hand rises to comb the front pieces of his hair back. “I trust you, okay? I think that little altercation just got the better of me.”

Jungkook sighs in relief while cupping your face in both hands. 

“I’m sorry, too. I should’ve told you what was happening, but I didn’t want to stress you out when you’re working so hard on the bakery,” he claims. “You must know by now I’ve only had eyes for one woman my entire life. And no one could ever pull my attention away from her.”

Despite not being your actual husband, the statement still stands. 

“I know,” you whisper. The two of you exchange matching grins before Jungkook leans in for a kiss. “I love you, Jae. And I’m sorry again.”

He shakes his head.

“No need.” Your lips meet once more like it’s just second nature. “But I love you, too, Y/N.”

An hour or so later, you two stumble into the house with both your lips and limbs intertwined. 

Since Jungkook’s never had a real relationship, he’s also never experienced make up sex, but he always pictured it being like this.

As soon as the front door slams shut, he pushes you against the nearest wall and traces your curves. Upon reaching your hips, he hooks his arms beneath your thighs so he can force you to koala him. Then he pins you in place with his pelvis before grinding into you.

You moan into his mouth and tug on his hair when his semi-hard cock teases your cunt. But neither action is necessary to understand what you need; even through the layers of clothing separating you, he can feel the heat between your legs calling to him.  

Jungkook leaves your lips alone to kiss your neck instead, causing you to whimper and pant something reminiscent of his name. Or at least, the name you believe is his.

“We don’t… we don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for,” you reassure him.

“I know,” he grunts between the hot, sloppy kisses he’s painting on your throat. “Just wanna make you come. You need to know how fucking badly I want you.”

His lips soon descend towards your collarbones while he clutches the collar of your sweater and yanks it wide open to expose your bra. It has a zipper, so he doesn’t actually ruin it, but he absolutely would’ve without any hesitation. 

One hand travels up from your waist to cup your breast as the other shoves your bra down so his mouth can latch onto your exposed nipple. It elicits a desperate whine from the back of your throat and you even begin bucking your hips to gain more friction.

In return, Jungkook’s ravenous with your tits; squishing and squeezing one while sucking on the other until your nipple’s almost painfully hard. He then scrapes the pebbled skin with his teeth before using his tongue to soothe the ache. 

Your enjoyment is obvious and Jungkook’s soul lights up with pride every time he hears a breathy moan above him. Hell, if it weren’t for bills needing to be paid, he would dedicate all his time, even his entire life, to pleasuring you. 

In a perfect world, he’d have the time to fuck you so good and so often your body would react to him solely on instinct. He’d be able to make you come on his hands, mouth, or cock with only a single touch because you would be habituated to the sensation. 

But it’s fun having to work for it, too. He’d love to spends hours, days, and weeks exploring every inch of your body in order to discover what makes your back arch and toes curl. 

Hence why he’s kissing and licking across the swell of your breasts so he can switch sides. His mouth repeats the previous process while he twists your opposite nipple between his thumb and forefinger to keep it erect. Once both nubs are swollen and covered in his saliva, he pulls back to admire his handiwork. 

“God fucking damn,” he curses under his breath. 

Your chest’s heaving from all the adrenaline and it makes you look even more delectable. 

“Honey, please.”

Jungkook’s eyes flicker up to meet your own which are silently begging for more. So, he grants your wish by smashing your lips together as he engulfs one of your tits in his big hand. 

“You think you can come just from this, baby?” 

You enthusiastically nod mid-kiss.

“Yes. Fuck, yes. Please make me come.” 

He doesn’t need any further instructions. 

His free hand glides down your thigh so he can tighten your leg around him, bringing your bodies close enough for you to feel his dick pressing against your core. Once he finds the perfect spot, he starts feverishly rolling his hips as though he were actually fucking you.

It turns your moans into high pitched shrieks of ecstasy as he animalistically devours your mouth and massages each of your breasts.  

In the meantime, you scratch down his back and rake your fingers through his hair like it’ll keep you from drowning in the heat of the moment. To your benefit, even though your mind’s clearly frazzled, you’re still grinding into him at a harmonious pace. 

Jungkook’s going to come soon, that’s for sure, and he can’t believe this will be the second pair of boxers he creams in. Perhaps a younger version of himself would be embarrassed, but today he’d willingly ruin every article of clothing he owns to be with you like this.

“Shit. Just don’t stop and I swear, I’ll fucking bust any second,” he tells you.

You don’t reply besides a noise of acknowledgment he silences with more passionate kisses. 

True to his word, Jungkook’s abs clench, his heavy balls contract, and his hips falter before all his muscles relent and he groans against your mouth. You follow just a second behind with a loud whine while your legs shake around his waist. 

The tandem highs last for quite some time before you slowly stop humping one another. After another minute or so passes, your bodies finally stall and you’re both left panting into the small space between your faces.

Jungkook laughs after catching his breath, a sanguine smile on his lips.

“We didn’t even make it three feet into the house.”

You giggle.

“Eh, that’s par for the course, right?”

Damn, his brother really was the luckiest man in the world. He can’t even imagine all the mind blowing sex you two had over the last decade and a half if this is considered normal. 

“I promise, it won’t be like this forever. I’m sorry it’s taking me so long,” Jungkook states.

“Take as much time as you need, baby.” With a doting grin, you reach up to brush back the hair that fell out of place during your endeavors. “I know it’ll be nothing but pure magic when it finally happens.”

You can certainly say that again. Six months may be a long time, but Jungkook’s waited his whole life to be with you. He’s actually terrified he’ll give himself away if he can’t control his reaction to being inside you for the first time. 

The following Monday, Jungkook tells Jimin to let Ms. Kim go, or at the very least, move her to another team. As much as he doesn’t want to ruin her career with Jeon Industries, he refuses to allow anyone to disrespect you. Plus, if she’s that bold when you’re there, he doesn’t want to consider what she might do if she gets him alone again. 

There isn’t much drama at either work or home after that. Which is great because renovations have begun on the bar and you’re both putting all your effort into finishing the project.

The menu’s complete at this point, although you’re still testing seasonal recipes. Most of the time you work on designing the new interior layout and decor. You’ve already tackled the marketing materials, setting up the business spending account, and filing taxes.

You don’t want to change too much because the whole point is for it to still feel like Kookie’s bar, but there are some necessary adjustments for the business to flow properly. The first obstacle was the massive neon sign on the front of the building. You’re keeping the Kookie’s logo the same, but adding the words “Family Bakery” just below it in a complimentary font. 

It feels fitting because you always saw Jungkook as family, and he legally was. Plus, it highlights the passing of the establishment from one family member to the next. You tell Jungkook you think he’d like the choice since it means both Kookie’s and Jeon Industries will officially be Jeon family businesses. 

Jungkook assures you that you’re right while hiding how misty his eyes are because of your explanation.

You two are heading there today to paint the back office. Everything else is brick due to the building’s age, but Jungkook previously tore down a wall to create a place for all the paperwork and financials. As with most of his personal design choices, he painted the room black. It’s obviously not your vibe, so you’re going with a light, neutral color instead. Since it’s a relatively small space, you didn’t see a need to hire real painters. 

After arriving around noon, you hold the door open while Jungkook lugs the supplies in from the car. Once everything’s set up in the back room, including taping all the moldings and laying a tarp on the floor, he pops open the paint can. 

The light shade of pinkish beige practically screams your name, and it’ll look beautiful with the aesthetic of the rest of the bakery. Even if the room’s only for your use, Jungkook wants it to be nice and most importantly, for you to be happy. 

He stirs the paint with the stick before pouring a liberal amount in the paint tray. After he stands up, you pass him a matching edging brush to the one in your hand. 

“You ready, partner?” Jungkook asks with a gentle slap on the bill of the hat you’re wearing. 

“Let’s do this,” you cheer. 

You focus on the lower part of the room while Jungkook tackles the upper half. It’s an easy decision to make considering you’re rather terrified of ladders and heights in general. 

It takes just over an hour to cover all the edges, at which point you break for a quick snack before starting on the main surface area. Since the walls are currently black, it gives the neutral color some depth you weren’t expecting. You debated on painting it all white first as a base, but the man at the paint store assured you it would be alright. 

“Do you like it so far, baby?” 

Jungkook kneels again to add more paint to the tray so you can coat the large paint rollers you’ll be using for the remainder of the project.

“I do! It looks really pretty.” He stands at the same time you hand him one of the tools. “Thank you for helping, honey.”

With a wave, he rejects your gratitude. 

“Oh, please. We’re in this together.”

“Damn right!” 

You both lean in for a smooch before facing away from each other to begin painting your respective walls. It’s much easier when you’re covering a large area, and you end up meeting in the center of the final wall only twenty minutes later.

Following the final stroke of Jungkook’s roller, you harmoniously sigh while stepping back to admire the job well done. 

“Fuck yeah,” he shouts. 

Your head turns in his direction as you giggle. 

“Easier than expected, huh?” 

“Yeah. In fact, I’m kinda sad it ended so fast.”

“Why? Do you find this kind of activity enjoyable?” 

Jungkook clicks his tongue before gazing at you with a lovesick smile.

“Anything’s enjoyable with you around, my sweetheart.” Cue an adoring eye roll. “But I don’t know. I guess I just thought there would be more opportunities to tease you or mess around.”

“While painting?”

“Mmhm.”

His reasoning makes you chuckle, but Jungkook’s deep in thought. He observes you for a moment while his brain churns for an idea. When it settles on something fun that also won’t be too destructive, his eyes come alive. 

Without you noticing because you’re still staring at the walls, Jungkook bends down and dips his palm in the leftover paint. He then slowly rises to his full height again so you don’t suspect anything. 

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

As soon as you turn, he clutches your face with his paint-soaked hand and slides it over so your nose, brow, and opposite cheek also get smothered in the color.

Your jaw drops with a sharp gasp, contrary to your eyes squeezing shut in clear annoyance. 

“What. The. Fuck.”

Jungkook’s too preoccupied laughing and cradling his stomach with his clean arm to respond. You honestly look adorable despite the massive, pink hand print and smear marks. Especially when he focuses on all your scrunched up, angry features. 

“You look so damn cute, baby,” he giggles.

“Cute? This is cute to you?” 

“Fucking precious.”

You thoughtfully hum while bending down to coat your own palm in paint. 

“Well, I wanna see you looking cute, too.” 

Unlike his approach, which was relatively gentle, you smack your hand right on the apple of his cheek and totally squish his face when you spread the paint around. Jungkook yelps and attempts to shove you away, but you’re merciless. Eventually, he gives up on trying to stop you in lieu of simply returning the favor. 

He grasps your chin again and starts moving his hand everywhere in reach while you do the same to him. The reciprocal antics cause you both to break out into hysterical laughter, but you still manage to continue painting one another. 

Somewhere between the giggles and shrieks, Jungkook gets the bright idea to expand his expedition. While still pushing on your face, he uses his free hand to scoop up more paint. This time, he splatters the side of your neck before dragging the color down your collarbones and chest. 

“Jae!” 

He squeezes your tit for good measure, leaving a perfect handprint on your shirt. 

His opposite arm follows suit to create streaks of pink along your torso and he even travels to your back so he can grab your ass with both hands. By now, you’ve gotten the memo, and choose to dip your other hand in the paint as well. You smear the liquid all across his abs until deciding to coat his throat and shoulders.  

You two are cackling like hyenas as you ceaselessly mark each other. Thankfully, you both wore old clothes for the job, so nothing of importance is getting ruined. 

After who knows how long, there’s a silent, unanimous truce and you slowly back away from one another while your chests rise and fall with adrenaline. 

Jungkook surveys your current state before glancing down at his own body and chuckling at how truly insane you each look. 

“See, wasn’t that so much more fun than just finishing the room?”

Your eyes flicker up with a theatrical glare.

“Oh, yeah. It was a total blast,” you flatly remark.

He knows you genuinely did enjoy yourself, so he taunts you with a playful head tilt and cheshire grin while approaching you one step at a time. 

“C’mon, sweetheart, just admit you had fun.”

“No.”

You cross your arms over your chest, but there’s a hint of a smile on your face that reveals your true emotions.

Once Jungkook’s close enough, he captures your waist and nuzzles his head against your neck. It automatically elicits a bellowing laugh as you return his embrace by rising to your tiptoes.

“I had fun,” you whisper. 

Jungkook smiles and presses a couple soft kisses to your skin before standing up straight. 

“I knew it.”

“But now we have to figure out how we’re getting home like this.”

“Oh… I didn’t think about that.”

“You don’t say?”

Your classic sarcasm makes him roll his eyes, but he also gazes around the room for a solution. He locates one in the form of the extra tarps you brought just in case, which he steals from the floor to present to you. 

“Tada!”

It’s your turn for an eye roll as you snatch the bright, blue plastic from Jungkook’s hands and head towards the exit. 

“You can make up for your shenanigans by cleaning all this up,” you holler from the bar. 

Jungkook doesn’t argue, especially when he was planning on telling you to relax while he takes care of everything, anyway. Once the paint can and tools are all stored away, he leaves the office with the second tarp tucked under his arm.

You two decide the best option is to cover the car seats with the tarp, as opposed to wrapping the plastic around yourselves. It works well enough, and by the time you arrive at home, you and your clothes are still the only things doused in paint. 

The front door clicks shut behind Jungkook as you each carefully remove your shoes and travel towards the bedroom to clean up. 

“We should probably hop straight into the shower,” Jungkook suggests. 

“Agreed. You wanna go first?” 

It takes him a second to answer because he has to work up the courage first. 

“Why don’t we just shower together?”

Your eyes broaden in surprise, but they very quickly become crescents when you smile at the proposal.

“Really?”

Jungkook nods.

“Really. C’mon.” 

He takes your hand to lead you into the en-suite where he instructs you to strip and drop the tainted clothes in the bathtub since it’ll be easier to clean. Meanwhile, he twists the faucet to start the water before stepping out of his clothes himself. 

This is actually the first time you’ll be seeing him fully naked. But even though you’re unaware of that, he feels nervous about turning to face you after placing his shirt and jeans in the tub. 

Of course, there’s no reason to be. Your eyes light up once you see him as a knowing smirk forms on your lips.

“Well, hello, handsome,” you drawl. 

Jungkook attempts to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks by looking away, but it’s absolutely useless. 

“Yeah, yeah. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

It’s the truth by a technicality, since he and Jaehyun are identical. 

“And yet I never get tired of it.”

All he wants is the attention off of him, so he uses your wrist to tug you closer until you’re chest to chest.

“Ditto.”

“You wanna prove it?” 

You send him a challenging eyebrow raise and Jungkook can’t resist smirking in response. 

Rather than answering, he wraps his arm around your waist and begins walking you both backwards into the steam. He uses his free hand to slide the glass door open before guiding the two of you under the water. Once his back hits the marble tile, he cradles your cheek so he can pull you in for a kiss. 

His tongue immediately presses against the seam of your lips and you part them without hesitation. As he licks inside your mouth, you whine and drive your nails into his shoulder muscles. It’s difficult to hear much over the rapid stream from the faucet, but Jungkook soon joins you in zealously moaning the longer you lock lips.

Between the paint, hot water, and undeniable sexual tension, it’s easily the sloppiest kiss you’ve shared as of yet. Streaks of light pink are running down your naked bodies before swirling around the drain and the shower water’s mixing with your spit while your tongues chase one another.

Jungkook’s hands choose to explore your back and neck, but yours seem to be everywhere all at once. He feels your fingertips on his pecs, down his abs, and dancing up his spine. Every single touch gives him goosebumps, although his brain isn’t powerful enough to focus on the different sensations. 

Ironically, it’s easier making out when there’s water involved. It not only allows your lips to effortlessly mold together, but your bodies as well. Your every curve is aligned with Jungkook’s without any room in between and he can practically feel your heart thumping beside his own. 

“I love you,” Jungkook professes when you break for air. His hands return to your face so he can tilt your head up and admire you. There’s still some paint around your nose and eyebrows, but it doesn’t stop you from being the most beautiful view in existence. “So fucking much, Y/N.”

You flash him an infectious smile despite the mundane nature of the phrase. 

“I love you, Jaehyun.”

“You wanna prove it?”

The callback to your earlier comment makes you giggle as you stretch up on your tiptoes for another kiss. 

“And how would you propose I do that?” You playfully inquire. 

Jungkook holds off on verbally replying to grab your waist again and spin you around until you’re the one against the tile. Then he sinks to his knees without ever breaking eye contact. 

“Just don’t ask me to stop,” he instructs. 

Your eyes fly wide open when he hooks his arms around each of your legs and hoists you unto his shoulders. The sudden movement causes you to gasp and clutch his hair for support, but he certainly doesn’t mind the ache. 

He waits a couple seconds but when you don’t protest, he finally glances down at your pretty cunt. 

It’s his first glimpse of you up close, and the sight elicits multiple nonsensical curses as he admires your swollen, wet folds. He’s encountered plenty of pussies in his day, and none of them even come close to you. 

“God, I am gonna fucking eat you alive.” 

That’s the last thing he says before shoving his face between your thighs and dragging his tongue up your slit. His initial taste of you is magical, idyllic, and goddamn mind numbing. He groans so loud you feel the vibrations in your core, evident by how you shiver in his arms. 

After that, he repeats the same motion relentlessly; over and over again so he can swallow every last drop of arousal you’re producing just for him. You’re so sweet it’s like eating candy, or more appropriately, the desserts you create. 

Jungkook can tell the difference between the liquid pouring down around your bodies and your cum. Unlike the shower water, your essence is slick and sticks to his tongue until he’s able to curl it into his mouth. That’s how he knows you’re already soaking wet and it isn’t just from you standing beneath the faucet. 

The amount of essence leaking from your hole fills him with pride and encourages him to keep going so he can swallow more. Honestly, he could just eat you out for the rest of his life and be satisfied. 

Your thighs are shaking on either side of his head and he knows it isn’t from physical weakness, but what he’s doing to you. Especially because he’s got his arms firmly wrapped around your thighs and is even supporting your hips with both hands. 

He loves that he has such a debilitating effect on you. All he ever wants is to make you feel good, writhe in pleasure, and scream so loud your voice becomes hoarse. Although, he plans on going until he’s too spent to continue, regardless of when you surpass those goals. 

“Fuck, baby,” you whine while latching on tighter to his hair. 

Feeling your fingers scratch his scalp makes him moan into your cunt, especially in combination with the sound of your breathless voice. 

Jungkook decides to switch tactics by circling your clit with the tip of his tongue. The change prompts you to yank on his hair and aggressively moan, which is precisely what he was hoping for. He alternates between figure eights, ovals, and short flicks so he can stimulate your nerve endings in multiple different ways. Each one produces a new response, although it’s clear when he flattens his tongue and starts sucking he’s found a winner. 

Your hole clenches around nothing as more cum drips down your folds and coats his chin. The satisfaction it brings him is undeniable, and he continues without restraint while you cry out and mindlessly string curses together. 

“Honey, I’m… holy shit, I’m gonna come.”

He shakes his head when he moves back down so he can thrust his tongue directly into your cunt.

“You don’t have to tell me every time. I assure you, it won’t be your last,” he tells you. 

Your pussy flutters around his tongue as he pushes it deep inside you to lick along your inner walls. You’re gushing at this point, so much that he has to pause every once in a while or else he might literally drown in you. 

Even without your warning, Jungkook knows the exact moment you come. Not only does he feel your muscles clench, but all of a sudden the whole bottom half of his face gets covered in arousal. 

He happily drinks up every last drop while holding you tight so you don’t fall over from the intense orgasm. Your whole body convulses in his arms as you grasp his hair like you wanna rip it right out of his scalp. You’re also endlessly whimpering and it’s music to Jungkook’s ears, both literally and figuratively. 

It’s apparent when your high begins to ebb, and even more obvious how sensitive you are afterwards. So Jungkook stays away from your clit to give your body some time to settle. In the meantime, he lazily makes out with your pussy. Both his lips and your folds are puffy from all the friction, but it only makes the act more enjoyable. He adores how soft and warm you feel against his mouth. 

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he praises while glancing up from between your legs. You look completely fucked out; flushed red from all the adrenaline with watery eyes and parted, dry lips. “Does it feel good?”

You aimlessly nod.

“So, so good.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook twists his head to kiss your inner thigh. “You want more?”

“I want you,” you declare. “Just keep fucking me ‘til the water runs cold.”

His chuckle meets your wet skin as he continues trailing his lips back to your core. 

“The water doesn't have anything to do with it, baby. I’m going until I’m finished with you. Not a second sooner.”

The conversation ends there when he wraps his lips around your clit again. You gasp and instinctively force his face closer to your center, encouraging him to suck harder and flick his tongue over the swollen nerve endings. 

“Fuck,” you sob before muffling yourself with your hand which was previously gripping the wall. 

For the most part, Jungkook just repeats all his tricks but at different speeds and out of order from the first go around. He does try a couple other strategies, like spitting into your hole and then fucking his saliva into you. 

Once his greed surpasses what his mouth can accomplish, he reaches up with one hand to grope your breast. The new sensation causes you to exuberantly moan and arch your back, so he takes it as a green light to continue squeezing and massaging you as well as tweaking your nipple. 

A second orgasm approaches even quicker than your first and before the water temperature even begins to change, you’ve already come a third, fourth, and fifth time. Jungkook isn’t even tired yet, either. He could keep you here all night, but he knows your body won’t allow that.

Following your last climax, you’re nothing more than a ragdoll in his arms. He can’t see your tear stains due to the water, but he can tell you’ve been crying because your eyes are swollen and red. Your hold on his hair is barely existent anymore and your legs haven’t stopped trembling since orgasm number three. 

Jungkook’s currently giving you another break by kissing and nipping at your inner thighs. He definitely doesn’t want to be done with you yet, but if you can’t continue he’ll have to save his insatiable hunger for another day. 

“Can you give me one more, sweetheart?”

“Jae,” you groan like you’re in a trance. “Please.”

“Is that a yes?”

Your hazy, unfocused eyes flit down to connect with his own.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

The last thing he ever wants is to push you past your limit, but he also trusts you to listen to your own body. 

When you nod assuredly, he doesn’t question you and gives your skin one last kiss before diving in again. 

It’s no surprise you come barely a minute later. Your cunt is so overstimulated and sensitive by now almost anything would set you off. 

Knowing this is the end, Jungkook makes sure to swallow everything your body has to offer with lackadaisical kisses and licks through your folds. You taste better than he could ever imagine, and he’s already looking forward to his next feast. 

After he’s satisfied and you’re no longer twitching from all the consecutive releases, he gently returns your feet to the floor and rises to his full height. 

As soon as you two are standing nose to nose again, you collapse into him to lean your head on his shoulder. But he adjusts so your entire body weight can rest against him as he rubs your back and plants chaste kisses in your hair. 

With his free hand, he shuts off the water before enveloping you so you’re safe and sound in the cocoon of his arms. 

“You alright?” He whispers while resting his head on your crown.

“Mmhm,” you hum. “Thank you.”

Jungkook chuckles.

“No, thank you.” His lips find your temple for another smooch. “For the meal, that is.” Despite how weak you are, you giggle at the remark. “C’mon, baby. Let’s get you to bed.”

“It’s not even dinnertime yet.”

“I know, but you need to rest after all that.”

You don’t protest and let Jungkook guide you out of the shower into the main bathroom. He dries your body with a nice, fluffy towel, including wringing out your hair so it isn’t dripping wet anymore. Then he helps you step into a soft pair of pajamas. 

Once you look adorably cozy, he scoops you up bridal style to carry you to bed. You lay your head on his shoulder during the short trek and even though it’s a tiny gesture, Jungkook’s heart flutters all the same. 

He tucks you under the blankets and fixes your hair so it’s on the pillow rather than getting your back wet before stepping away to admire you. 

“Comfy?” You nod and snuggle deeper into the warmth of the bed. “I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready if you aren’t up before then.”

“Hmm? How are you gonna make dinner?”

“I’ll order in.”

All you do is hum in response while your eyes close and your lips part as you drift off into dreamland. 

Unlike the previous sexual encounters you two have had, Jungkook doesn’t find himself disappearing into his own head about everything. You, him, Jaehyun, all of it. For the first time, he just enjoys the experience for what it is and goes about his day. 

He hopes that means he’s one step closer to being able to give you all of him, but he isn’t planning on rushing into it, either. The most important thing is for him to be totally present in the moment with you when you make love for the first time.

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Junior year of high school’s been a slog so far. Between his parents pressuring him to keep his grades up so he’ll be accepted to a nice university and assimilating with the teenage social scene, he’s mentally drained. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to further his education or hang out with his peers, but he’s got plenty of other interests besides those two. 

He wants to draw and paint more, listen to new music, or even practice photography. None of which can happen if he’s stuck in his room studying all night. 

Hence the main reason he and his identical twin brother sometimes pull switcheroos on their teachers and classmates. 

This time around it’s because Jungkook has a chemistry exam tomorrow worth a quarter of his grade. While he personally excels at the liberal arts, STEM classes are a whole different story. Jaehyun, on the other hand, can’t recall historical facts to save his life, but doesn’t even flinch at balancing atoms. 

Knowing this, Jungkook politely knocks on his brother’s door just before sundown. Jaehyun immediately grants him entry and after peeking his head inside, Jungkook finds Jaehyun sitting at his desk with a notebook and his laptop laid out before him. 

“Hey,” Jaehyun greets him while setting his pen down. 

“I need a favor,” Jungkook matter-of-factly declares as he flops onto his brother’s bed. 

Jaehyun chuckles at his twin’s familiar antics before spinning around to face him.

“Like what?” 

“Chemistry exam. Twenty-five percent of my grade. I’ll do your chores for a week.” 

There’s no need for further explanation because the two boys understand each other without words. Jungkook probably could’ve just held up a chemistry book and waited for Jaehyun to give him a thumbs up or down to achieve the same result.

Jaehyun purses his lips and leans back in his desk chair to ponder the quid pro quo, but it’s pretty rare for either of them to deny one another. He’s more likely debating on whether or not it’s a fair deal. 

“No need for chores. I have a better idea,” Jaehyun poses.

“Oh? Pray tell.”

Jaehyun chuckles and to Jungkook’s surprise, a blush appears on his brother’s cheeks.

“So, there’s this girl…”

“No shit!” 

Jungkook shoots up from the bed with a boisterous, eager laugh while his twin throws his hands up to stop him from overreacting. 

“Aish, it’s not like that.” Despite Jaehyun’s protests, Jungkook remains on his feet to await more details. “She’s just, like, the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and we talk all the time because we’re lab partners, but I have no idea if she likes me back.” 

“And?” Jungkook excitedly elongates the syllable. “What do you want me to do?” 

“Well, if we swap places tomorrow, maybe you could give me an unbiased opinion. You know, see how she acts with you and report back whether or not you think she feels the same.”

Jungkook’s eyes light up at the notion of being an undercover wingman. Plus, he gets what he wants without having to do twice the housework for a week. 

“Oh, you’re on.”

Jaehyun can’t resist affectionately rolling his eyes at his brother’s enthusiasm. 

It only makes sense considering Jaehyun’s always chosen school over any sort of love life. To be fair, Jungkook hasn’t had much luck with the ladies himself, but at least he tries instead of keeping his nose in the books.

All Jungkook wants is for Jaehyun to find someone who’ll love him just as much as he does. Despite only being eleven minutes younger, Jungkook looks up to his twin more than anyone else in the world. He knows the sentiment is shared; that Jaehyun wholeheartedly admires all the traits Jungkook possesses which he himself does not. Nevertheless, Jungkook views Jaehyun as his better half and if he can lead someone else towards the same belief, he will. 

“Just grab some clothes for me and lay them on the bed, will you? I’ll do the same once I’m done with this,” Jaehyun requests as Jungkook strolls out of the room. 

“Got it!”

The following morning, Jungkook spends a couple extra minutes styling his hair away from his forehead to appear more like his twin. Jaehyun does the same, only the opposite, by applying some gel so his bangs fall down nicely at his browbone. 

When the two meet outside their respective bedrooms, they both chuckle at the uncanny resemblance to the other’s signature style. Although Jungkook does tsk at his brother upon surveying his outfit. 

“Nuh uh.” He faces Jaehyun to fix the collar of his leather jacket, popping it up how he normally wears it. “There we go.” 

Jaehyun rolls his eyes.

“Well, if we’re being picky.” To return the favor, Jaehyun undoes the top two buttons of Jungkook’s polo so it looks more casual. “I may be a nerd, but I’m not that bad.” 

“If you say so,” Jungkook teases, prompting Jaehyun to nudge his shoulder while the former giggles. 

They head downstairs together and follow their usual routine of grabbing their book bags and wishing their folks farewell. Neither of their parents register the switch as the four of them circle each other in the kitchen before scurrying off in separate directions to leave for work and school. 

Their mom, who works from home as an interior designer, catches Jaehyun’s attention at the last second with a call of his name. 

“Jae, sweetie, you have an appointment this afternoon. Remember?”

Jaehyun peers around the corner with a doting grin. 

“I know, mom. Thank you.”

The only issue is Jaehyun doesn’t look like himself, and when she notices his appearance, she blanches. 

“What — huh?”

“Bye!”

Jungkook smacks his twin’s chest once he returns to his side; a hint of a laugh still on his lips. 

“You doofus. You’re gonna give the poor woman a heart attack.” 

“I forgot, I forgot,” Jaehyun defends himself. 

Once they make it to Jaehyun’s car, which is the vehicle they’re driving this month because they always switch off for fairnesses sake, Jungkook hops in the driver’s side to maintain their ruse. 

A Jeep is Jungkook’s choice of ride and the car he was gifted by his parents for their sixteenth birthday, whereas Jaehyun drives a Mercedes given to him for the same occasion. Even though Jungkook enjoys being high off the road when he drives, he certainly doesn’t mind cruising around in his twin’s sleek sports car every so often. 

Their family is more than well-off, on behalf of their dad being the founder and CEO of a fortune five hundred company in the center of Seoul. Jungkook has no interest in joining the conglomerate after college, whereas Jaehyun’s already preparing to be their father’s successor. 

Thankfully, their dad doesn’t mind that Jungkook wants something different for himself and neither of their parents ever push them towards a certain career path. As long as they both receive a good education and find jobs to keep themselves off the street, they’re satisfied. 

“So, what’s your girl’s name?” 

“She’s not my girl,” Jaehyun corrects him, although there’s a pink hue splattered all over his cheeks. “But her name’s Y/N.”

“Cute,” Jungkook notes with a smirk. 

“You have no idea.”

Jaehyun’s right, per usual, because when Jungkook steps foot in the biology classroom later that day and spots a girl sitting precisely where his brother said she would be, his eyes blow wide and he clenches his jaw to prevent his mouth from dropping open.  

You aren’t just cute. No, cute is how he would describe Jiwoo from second period or Yoona on the cheerleading squad. You’re goddamn ethereal. 

Your hair is falling down your back in pretty waves, although the front pieces are tucked behind your ear. Your pink, plump lips are wrapped around the end of your pencil as you focus on whatever you’re reading. You’re wearing an oversized sweater and loose-fitting jeans which, despite seemingly being for comfort, make you look like a model straight out of a magazine. 

Jungkook and Jaehyun have never shared the same taste in women. It’s just another topic they happen to fall on opposite sides of the spectrum about. So him finding you so attractive is completely unexpected. Yet here he is, paralyzed in the doorway like he’s never seen a woman before in his life. 

He manages to snap out of the trance quickly, but not before a couple classmates shoot him confused glances from across the room. After maneuvering around the labyrinth of chairs and backpacks between him and Jaehyun’s desk, he slugs his bag off his shoulder and sits down beside you.

You don’t look up, which is to be expected when this is an ordinary occurrence for you. Plus, you’re busy scribbling in your notebook after finishing the page you were reading. Once you’re done, you place your pencil down and blow air out of your mouth before shaking your hair loose from behind your ear and flicking the short pieces aside.

“You must be Jungkook,” you nonchalantly profess.

Jungkook’s brow scrunches. 

“Sorry?”

A smile graces your lips as you finally look in his direction. 

“Jaehyun doesn’t have a scar on his cheek.” 

When you gesture to the small mark on Jungkook’s left cheekbone, he lifts his own hand to trace the indentation. No one’s ever been able to distinguish them by that before, not even their parents. Even though Jungkook’s had the scar since first grade after he and Jaehyun fought over who got to use the computer first. 

“There’s no way you noticed something so small that fast,” Jungkook accuses.

You shrug following a short, prideful giggle. 

“Maybe I’m just a genius.” 

Or you have a big fat crush on my brother.

“You must be Y/N, then.” 

It’s your turn in the hot seat and you face Jungkook directly so you can interrogate him. 

“And how do you know that?” 

Jungkook mirrors how you shrugged your shoulders a moment ago. 

“Because Jae told me his lab partner’s super smart and the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. Obviously you’re smart if you clocked our scheme so fast and… well.” 

He gestures to you with both hands, causing a bright pink blush to overtake your cheeks. 

“He really said that?” You ask in a higher pitch with a massive smile on your face. 

“Does that surprise you?”

“Not… exactly. It’s just that Jae’s so smart and sweet. Not to mention considerate, funny, stupidly handsome —”

“You think I’m handsome?” 

“That’s not what I…”

Your voice trails off when you look over to find a shit-eating grin staring back. 

“Gotcha,” he cheers while pointing to his head. “Same face.”

As you roll your eyes and chuckle, Jungkook swears his heart starts pounding faster inside his ribcage. He would do anything to make you do it again; hear you laugh at his jokes or pretend to be annoyed when he teases you. 

“Anyway,” you redirect the conversation. “What’s with the switcheroo?”

“I have a chem exam today and Jaehyun got the brain cell in the divorce.”

You cackle so loud you have to cover your mouth with your hand to avoid getting in trouble with the teacher. Meanwhile, the pride Jungkook feels for prompting such a reaction almost makes him burst right out of his skin. 

Despite your best efforts, the teacher shoots you both a warning glare before beginning his lecture. You and Jungkook attempt to quiet your laughter and focus, but there are still some residual giggles by the time your teacher starts. 

After about twenty minutes, the teacher releases everyone to continue working on your current research project, but since your actual partner is somewhere across the school, you and Jungkook just chit chat until the end of class. 

“So, considering how highly you spoke about my brother, I imagine you like him back?”

His words must pique your interest because you stop writing in your planner and glance up with cartoonishly wide eyes. 

“Back?” You parrot. “As in…”

“Oh, yeah. Jae’s down bad.” 

Your blush from earlier returns with a vengeance and you even cover your mouth with your sweater cuffs to hide the broad smile you’re sporting. 

It gives Jungkook goddamn cuteness aggression and he has to refrain from kicking his feet underneath the desk. 

This situation is uniquely strange for Jungkook. Because on one hand, there’s nothing more important to him than Jaehyun’s happiness, and you’re both clearly smitten. Yet in the opposing corner lies his heart that’s suddenly beating to a new rhythm; one that sounds suspiciously similar to the syllables of your name. 

He can’t deny how badly he wants you for himself, but he would never make a move unless Jaehyun told him it was alright. If he can’t have you, he supposes the next best thing is for his brother to be the one who does. 

“I had my suspicions, but I just… I didn’t wanna get my hopes up. You know?” 

Your cheeks are still a dull pink and you have lovesick stars in your eyes as you talk about your crush. 

“I get it,” Jungkook replies. “But you don’t have anything to worry about. You two are on the same page.” 

“Is he planning on asking me out?” 

“He better be. If he doesn’t, I will.” His sudden candor causes your eyes to widen again until Jungkook raises his hands in surrender. “I’m kidding.” 

I’m not.

You sigh in relief upon hearing his rebuttal and Jungkook refuses to admit how much his heart shatters.

“Well, if he asks, you’re more than welcome to assure him I’ll say yes,” you state. 

Jungkook genuinely smiles at that. 

The thought of Jaehyun finding someone who makes him happy and will keep him laughing is enough to soothe any ache Jungkook may feel because of you. 

“Duly noted.”

“So, Jungkook —”

“Kook,” he corrects you.

“Huh?”

The man in question chuckles.

“Everyone calls me Kook.”

You tilt your head like that’s a foreign concept before disagreeably clicking your tongue.

“That just won’t do. I don’t wanna call you what everyone else does. I should get a special nickname,” you explain.

“You don’t say?” 

The two of you share another laugh while you tap your pencil against your notebook in thought. 

“What about Kookie?”

“Kookie?” Jungkook shakes his head, but it’s mostly to hide the smile and accompanying blush creeping in. “What am I? Willy Wonka?” 

“Oh, c’mon. It’s cute!” 

It is cute, and therein lies the problem. 

Nevertheless, Jungkook purses his lips as he ponders a fitting response. 

“Fine, but I want one for you.” You shrug and show him your palms as though to yield the nicknaming power. “How about…” After aimlessly gazing around the room, Jungkook’s eyes soon land on a doodle in your planner of a sweet treat that feels just right. “What about Cupcake?” 

“Cupcake?” 

“Mmhm. Cupcake,” he repeats while motioning at you before doing the same for himself. “And Kookie.” 

You giggle at his suggestion, but nod your head in agreement a moment later. 

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Kookie.” 

With a charming smile, Jungkook extends his hand towards you. 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Cupcake.”

When you two melodramatically shake on it, Jungkook doesn’t think about the long term consequences. He has no idea how this single conversation will alter the course of his life forever. 

Because Jaehyun does ask you out about a week later, forcing Jungkook to witness you two fall in love and remain utterly devoted to each other for years to come. 

Including standing beside his parents when Jaehyun proposes at your college graduation. You’re a year younger than them, so his twin’s had time to save for a beautiful diamond ring using the paycheck he receives from their father’s company. 

You obviously accept, but not before screaming your head off and nearly tackling your poor boyfriend, now fiancé, to the ground. Jaehyun catches you by the waist before you’re able to take him down and Jungkook doesn’t believe he’s ever seen his brother so happy as he spins you around a couple times before kissing you senseless. 

“I love you,” Jaehyun whispers once your lips part while your foreheads remain pressed together. 

Despite it being the thousandth time you’ve heard the proclamation, you still beam brighter than the sun. 

“I love you, Jeon Jaehyun.”

“Enough to marry me, huh?” 

An infectious giggle fills the air between your faces and makes Jungkook’s heart constrict where it lies dormant in his chest. He even instinctively looks away when you clamp Jaehyun’s head between your hands to emphasize your response. 

“Enough to marry the shit out of you!”

It sucks because it’s not like Jungkook isn’t happy for you two. Quite the contrary. He couldn't be more ecstatic about his favorite people finding their dream come true. But he also can’t help the debilitating, insistent ache he feels inside. 

He never meant to fall in love with you and for a while after you met he hoped his feelings would fade into oblivion. Months went by, then years, but rather than disappearing, his devotion to you only grew stronger until it became a part of his very soul. Something so innate he believes it must transcend this world and bleed into the next. His love for Jaehyun is the same; just as deep and even more integral to his being. 

Which is why it doesn’t matter how much he adores you. You and Jaehyun are perfect for each other, and more importantly, you make one another irrevocably happy. Jungkook would sooner die before he took any part in destroying that. 

He doesn’t want you for himself despite his feelings, but that doesn’t make reality any less painful. 

His attention is yanked from the reverie by his brother’s joyous holler and he refocuses on the present just in time for Jaehyun to throw his arms around him. 

“Fucking nailed it,” Jaehyun cheers while giving Jungkook an excited, brotherly pat on his shoulder. 

“‘Course, you did.” Jungkook returns the affection by resting his chin on Jaehyun’s shoulder. “Congratulations, bro. I’m glad you didn’t choke.” 

Jaehyun scoffs and steps back to reclaim your hand. 

“I never choke,” he argues.

“Um, there was the time you were so nervous about asking me to prom you put the jumbo letters in the wrong order,” you counter. “But I had a wonderful time at ‘rpom’ with you, baby.” 

Your fiancé rolls his eyes at the memory, but there’s a huge grin on his face when he bends down to kiss your cheek. 

“Congratulations to you, too, Cupcake,” Jungkook interjects. “You scored yourself the second best looking, second funniest, and second most lovable man around.” 

“Gosh, I wonder who could possibly be the first?” 

Jungkook sarcastically shrugs with his hands up, but your sweet laugh shatters the act when you lean in to hug him with your free arm. 

“Seriously, though, I couldn’t be happier for you.”

“Thanks, Kookie.” After unwrapping yourself from the embrace, you rest your weight on Jaehyun next to you and he naturally wraps his other arm around your waist. “So, should I start calling you big brother now or…”

The aggressive grimace that contorts Jungkook’s face causes both you and Jaehyun to relentlessly cackle. 

“Fuck, no. Never. I beg you.”

Despite genuinely feeling like he might throw up at the thought of you ever referring to him as that, he joins in the laughter once his expression of disgust fades. 

You and Jaehyun wait almost a full three years to wed so you’re both at least twenty five. Meaning it’s been just over a decade since you first started dating; longer than some marriages even last.

The years following your engagement have been easier for Jungkook to stomach compared to when you were all in school. You two live together now just a few blocks from Jungkook’s apartment and the three of you hang out fairly often. 

One would think it would make the situation worse, but spending more time with you as a couple actually lessens the weight. It gives him a chance to witness the people he cares about most at their happiest, and even though he still yearns for you in ways he shouldn’t, seeing you smile or hearing you laugh is enough. 

On the morning of your wedding, in which Jungkook has the honor of being the best man, things are a little hectic. Jaehyun’s an objectively intelligent, organized, and calm person, but whenever he’s nervous those traits fly right out the window.

Hence why Jungkook’s on his way to your bridal suite across the venue to ask you where Jaehyun’s cufflinks are. His twin swears he put them in the same bag as his suit, but they’re nowhere to be found. The men tried calling you first, but your phone must be tucked away on silent because it repeatedly went to voicemail.

Jungkook knocks first before creaking the door open and calling your name. He peeks his head in to ensure no one’s getting dressed and once he deems the coast clear, he steps inside and lets the door shut behind him.

You stroll out from a separate room soon after his arrival, but before Jungkook has a chance to talk, you shriek and jump behind a floor length mirror.

“What the fuck, Jae! You can’t see me before the ceremony!”

“Relax, it’s just me! It’s Jungkook!”

After a long pause, you peer out from around the furniture to confirm his identity. When you find he isn’t wearing what your groom should be, you sigh in relief and step further into the room.

“Jesus, Kookie, don’t scare me like that,” you scold him. “You trying to give me a heart attack on my wedding day?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond right away, or more like he can’t. Seeing you in your wedding dress with your hair beautifully styled and makeup done to highlight all your best features stuns him into complete silence. He didn’t even realize it was possible for you to look any more gorgeous than you normally do, but by god, have you proven him wrong.

You notice his lack of communication rather quickly and give him a once over to discern the possible reason. Unfortunately for Jungkook, it’s glaringly obvious why he’s standing as still as a statue with his mouth half open.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

You’re being playful, but Jungkook’s far too awestruck to volley your banter.

“No,” he whispers. “Just the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”

The compliment brings a warm smile to your face, but you still shake your head in disagreement while strutting across the room to him.

“You’re only saying that because you haven’t met yours yet.”

He wants to argue, but he can’t explain why that isn’t true without revealing his deepest, darkest secret.

You force him back to reality when your fingers graze his lapel, causing him to shoot you an inquisitive look.

“Your bowtie’s crooked,” you answer his silent question as you adjust the fabric.

“Thanks, Cupcake.”

There’s an earth-shatteringly gorgeous smile on your lips that gives Jungkook actual heart palpitations, especially with you standing so close. He even holds his breath so you don’t hear how wildly the muscle is thumping.

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

Once you finally step back, Jungkook inhales for what feels like the first time in minutes.

“Jae can’t find his cufflinks.”

You affectionately roll your eyes.

“Of course, he can’t,” you chuckle. “That man would be lost without me.”

“Yes, he would,” Jungkook agrees. “He knows it, too.”

“He better.” The two of you share a laugh before you leave his side to find your phone where you have a list of today’s necessities and their respective locations. “The inner breast pocket of his suit coat,” you read out loud from your notes.

“Seriously? I could’ve sworn we checked there.”

“And I know you both well enough to know you definitely didn’t.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn for an eye roll as he grabs the doorknob.

“Well, thank you. I promise I’ll have him in tip-top shape in time for the ceremony,” he assures you.

“Wait,” you request before scurrying back over. Upon reaching him again, you throw your arms around his neck and rise to your tiptoes for a heartfelt embrace. Jungkook’s brain momentarily short circuits despite this being a regular occurrence, but he eventually recovers and returns the affection by enveloping your waist. “I love you so much, Kookie. I can’t wait to finally be family.”

It takes all his willpower to hold back the tears encroaching on his waterline. They’re predominantly on behalf of his deep platonic love for you as opposed to his unrequited feelings. No matter what his heart wants, you’re one of his best friends and someone he can’t imagine living without. It isn’t just because of your connection to him through Jaehyun, either, but the bond you two have built over the last decade.

“I love you, too, Cupcake. Always and forever.” Ironically, once you part, you’re the one with watery eyes that you have to carefully dry. “Hey, hey, no tears. You’ll ruin your makeup.”

“I know,” you sniffle. “I’m just really happy.”

Jungkook smiles.

“Me, too.”

He returns to the groom’s suite after wishing you farewell and of course, you’re spot on. Jaehyun’s lost cufflinks were on his body the entire time, causing Jungkook to lovingly tease his brother as he finishes the final touches to his ensemble. 

The two of them are currently standing side by side in front of the mirror and Jaehyun’s spent the last five minutes fiddling with pieces of his suit that are already perfect. Jungkook chuckles at the familiar behavior before clasping him on the shoulder.

“Jae, I don’t understand why you’re nervous when you’re marrying the love of your life.”

Jaehyun shakes his head while slowly releasing the air from his lungs.

“I just want today to be perfect. She deserves nothing less than that.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue.

“But Y/N’s gonna think it’s perfect simply because she’s marrying you. Don’t you know that?” 

His assurance causes Jaehyun to smile and sigh in relief.

“You’re right,” he concedes. “I guess the problem is being a boyfriend and fiancé is one thing, but being a husband is another entirely.” He glances down to tug on his sleeve. “I have to take care of her, you know? I never wanna let her down or leave her wanting for anything.”

Only someone as magnanimous as Jaehyun, who’s never disappointed you even once in a whole decade, would worry like this moments before walking down the aisle.

“She loves you. You love her. You two have a long life together ahead of you. Both of you are bound to get upset or wish things were different every once in a while, but none of that matters as long as the love is still there,” Jungkook asserts.

Jaehyun’s smile returns prior to him glancing up to meet Jungkook’s gaze through the mirror.

“I thought I was supposed to be the wise one?”

Jungkook shrugs along with a lighthearted chuckle.

“Someone’s gotta pick up the slack whenever your usual characteristics go on leave.”

The twins share another laugh, but then Jaehyun clears his throat and turns to face his brother.

“You make a good point, about picking up my slack,” Jaehyun notes. “Will you promise me something?”

“Yeah, always.”

Jaehyun’s teeth sink into his bottom lip.

“Promise to look after Y/N for me. If, I don’t know, for whatever reason I’m not able to anymore.”

“Jae —”

“Just promise me, Kook.”

Jungkook knows how much this means to his brother, even if he can’t ever envision a world where you two aren’t together. 

“Of course, I will,” he responds assuredly. “I promise.”

It’s obvious a weight lifts off Jaehyun’s shoulders and he immediately pulls Jungkook in for a hug to convey his gratitude. After stepping back, the groom appears much more at ease and even claps his hands together while turning towards the door.

“Okay! You got the rings?”

“Yup.”

“Time to get hitched, then.”

Contrary to moments ago, the pair exit the room lighthearted and laughing as they make their way to the main hall. 

The ceremony is beautiful. Perfect, even, just as Jaehyun hoped. From the moment the doors open to reveal you and your dad, to Jaehyun blubbering like a baby throughout your entire walk down the aisle, to the heartfelt, sentimental vows you and him share, up until your groom dramatically dips you across his body for your first kiss as husband and wife. 

There isn’t a dry in the room and Jungkook’s heart nearly explodes with love for you both. Seeing you two so joyful and knowing you’ll always have each other is all he needs to die without a single regret. 

Cocktail hour, plenty of photos, and a grand entrance into the reception follow soon after and in the middle of all the guests enjoying their meal, the DJ hands Jungkook a microphone for his best man speech. 

He’s rewritten the damn thing at least a hundred times, including a version that went something like, “Fuck it. I’m in love with the bride. I don’t know what to do about it. Have a good evening.” 

The final product doesn’t contain any of those words except the last four, but even without a confession, he’s unbearably nervous. 

“Good evening, everyone,” he announces from his place at the end of the head table. “If it wasn’t obvious already, I’m Jaehyun’s identical twin brother, Jungkook. Being a twin has its pros and cons, as does everything, but no other twin has the perks that I do by having Jaehyun as a brother. Jae is the most kind, considerate, loving, and genuine person I’ve ever met. He’s the best brother in the world and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’ll be the best husband, too. We’ve done everything together up until now, so marriage is the first adventure he’s going on without me. But I know I have nothing to worry about because the person he’s venturing into it with is the best of the best. Ironically, I first met Y/N while pretending to be Jaehyun. I’ve never told her this before, but while Jae’s end of the deal was to take a test for me, I was running reconnaissance on her. Jae had a big, fat crush on Y/N, but he didn’t know if his feelings were reciprocated, so he asked me to go undercover and report back. Our carefully laid plan was immediately thwarted, though, because Y/N clocked that I wasn’t Jae only seconds after I sat down. I knew then that she was going to be around for a long time, and more importantly, that my brother’s heart would always be safe in her hands.” Jungkook takes a deep breath before his final paragraph. “I adore you guys more than I’ll ever be able to properly explain and I couldn’t be happier that you two will have each other for a lifetime to come. I wish you nothing but everlasting love, health, and good fortune. And I love you both so very much.” 

Once he concludes his speech, everyone loudly applauds for a job well done, but Jungkook’s focus is solely on your and Jaehyun’s reactions. Except when his eyes land on the center of the long table, only you’re sitting there. 

An explanation arrives soon enough when his twin forces him into a bone-crushing embrace. Jungkook laughs while happily returning the affection as tightly as he can. 

“Do you have any fucking idea how much I love you?” Jaehyun asks through a sniffle. 

“Of course, I do,” Jungkook sighs. “About half as much as I love you.”

When the two break apart, the sound of heels rapidly clicking along the floor steals their attention. Before they can process what’s happening, you barrel right into them with a gleeful cheer. 

“I didn’t wanna feel left out,” you explain where your head rests between their own. Both men chuckle at your antics prior to you stepping back to face them. “That was perfect, Kookie. Thank you.”

Jungkook bashfully shrugs.

“It was nothing, Cupcake. Just another Tuesday for me, public speaker extraordinaire.” 

“Aish, can you believe he’s drunk already? He thinks it’s Tuesday!” Jaehyun turns towards you to joke. 

You giggle and glance at your husband with the entire galaxy in your eyes. As always, Jaehyun’s sporting a matching expression and it’s only once Jungkook clears his throat that you two snap out of the daze and join him in returning to the head table.

Jungkook passes the microphone to his brother, who’s set to deliver the next speech. It isn’t necessarily common for the groom to talk at the reception, but his father did so in order to honor their mother at their wedding and he urged Jaehyun to do the same. 

“Hello,” Jaehyun cheers from where he’s standing next to your chair. “I’d like to take this time to thank everyone for being here to celebrate our marriage with us. Y/N and I are overjoyed to be surrounded by you all on our special day and we’re frankly overwhelmed by the vast amount of love we’ve received.” Like it’s second nature, he reaches for you and you automatically lace your fingers together. “I also want to spend a moment talking about my beautiful wife sitting here beside me.” Even though he’s technically giving a speech to the whole room, he pivots so he’s staring directly into your eyes. “Y/N, I’ve been hopelessly in love with you since the day we met when I was only sixteen years old. And to this day I still can’t believe you feel the same. You’re radiant, spellbinding, and magnificent, and I’m nothing but a humble admirer. But what’s truly wonderful about you as a partner is that you don’t view me in that light. You see right through me; all my faults and failures, but also my strengths and virtues. And you love me regardless of all of them. So I consider myself the luckiest man alive because I’ll never deserve someone as warm, caring, and compassionate as you are. It’s been ten years since we became a couple and I’ve yet to even come close. But I promise to keep trying, baby, because that’s what you deserve. I’ve loved you for an entire decade and I’ll continue to do so for a thousand more, even though I know the universe isn’t gracious enough to give us that much time together. But with the time we do have, I plan to cherish and worship you every single second of every single day. Thank you for choosing me ten years ago and even more importantly, for choosing me today. I love you so much, my bride.”

You and Jaehyun haven’t broken eye contact once throughout his whole speech, but yours are shimmering and flooded with tears which are slowly cascading down your pink cheeks.

“J — Jae,” you cry, at a complete loss for words. 

Jaehyun doesn’t verbally respond. He just lifts your intertwined hands up to his lips for a kiss before resting them against his cheek. 

Following his lead, you forgo trying to produce sound and tug him into his seat by the hand before grabbing his face so you can kiss the daylights out of him. He squeaks and giggles at the abrupt movements, but it soon becomes a content hum as you ardently slot your mouths together as if you’re the only ones in the room. 

Your foreheads remain together even once you part as a pair of gleaming smiles appear. 

“I didn’t prepare anything to say back,” you complain as your voice cracks.

Jaehyun shakes his head.

“You don’t need to.”

“I love you so fucking much.”

He chuckles and steals another quick smooch.

Everyone else’s been clapping since the moment Jaehyun stopped talking, but you two stay in your own little world until he kisses the tip of your nose and pulls back.

Jungkook’s always known Jaehyun to have a way with words, and he’s spoken about his unconditional love for you at least a million times over the years, but even he’s taken aback by his twin’s profound candor. 

It’s a blaring reminder why Jaehyun’s the one sitting beside you today. His brother’s an amazing person, and only someone as noble as him should have the honor of calling himself your husband.

The remainder of the evening all goes according to plan and everyone seems to be having a great time. Even Jungkook, because despite his heart slowly withering and dying in his chest, he always enjoys spending time and goofing around with you and Jaehyun. 

A couple hours into the reception, he feels a tug on his arm while he’s standing at the bar and upon turning around, he finds you eagerly pulling him towards the dance floor. 

“C’mon. You owe me a dance, big brother.”

“Yuck,” Jungkook overdramatically shouts, but he still allows you to lead him away. 

An early 2000s ballad is playing that Jungkook faintly recognizes as you place one hand on his shoulder and he steals your other so you can sway chest to chest to the beat of the music. Neither of you speak for about a minute or so, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable or awkward. Nothing ever is with you two. 

“Is tonight everything you were hoping for?” Jungkook asks you. 

When you glance up to meet his eyes, your effervescent smile reveals the answer before you verbalize it.

“It’s a dream come true,” you proclaim. “I’ve never been happier in my whole life.”

Jungkook can’t resist mirroring your grin. 

“I’m really glad, Cupcake.”

“I mean, it was basically impossible for today to be anything but the best day ever.” Before you continue, Jungkook drops his hand from the small of your back so he can twirl you around. “I’m surrounded by all my favorite people in the world. I can’t ask for anything more than that.” 

“Let’s see… your mom, dad, Jae, best friend, cousin —”

“You.”

Your interruption isn’t necessarily surprising, but it still mentally stops Jungkook in his tracks, and he has to fight to hide all the emotions swimming in his irises. 

“I don’t know if I’m worthy of such an honor.”

“Of course, you are,” you argue. “You’ve never been just Jae’s brother to me. You know that, don’t you?” Jungkook softly nods. “You’re… my Kookie.”

The idea of being your anything lights Jungkook’s heart on fire. 

“Now that is my greatest honor,” Jungkook sincerely declares.

You two exchange matching smiles at the same time the first song ends and fades into the next. 

“Sweetheart, I’m over here!” Jaehyun calls from across the room, causing you and Jungkook to turn in his direction. Your groom’s sporting a playful grin while posing with his hands on his hips. “Did you get us mixed up again?”

Without missing a beat, you theatrically gasp and clap your hand over your mouth before looking between him and Jungkook.

“Dammit, not again!” You stomp your foot like a child and cross your arms over your chest. “You would think after a decade I’d be better at this.” 

Jaehyun clicks his tongue a couple times along with a disappointed head shake. 

“What am I gonna do with you, huh?” 

His gag comes to an end when he simply can’t resist sending you an affectionate smile that turns his eyes into crescents and paints his ears red.  

You look at Jungkook to ask if it’s alright to conclude your dance so soon, but he’s already nodding towards his brother to give you permission. 

“You sure?”

“‘Course. Go celebrate with your husband,” he tells you.

“Well, thank you for the dance.” As you’re strolling away, you turn around to continue speaking. “You know, most of my bridesmaids are single.” Jungkook’s eyes almost roll out of his skull. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.”

He watches you collide with Jaehyun, who immediately grabs your waist to lift you a few inches off the ground while you both squeal in excitement. 

In truth, Jungkook could use a good fuck right about now. He’s sure one of the single women here tonight would be more than willing to go home with him or at the very least sneak off to the bathroom, but he just can’t bring himself to try. 

Back in college, after accepting his feelings for you were here to stay, he threw himself into the bed of any woman who would pull the sheets back for him. He used sex as an outlet for all his pent up emotions. 

It didn’t work. Even when he was balls deep in someone else, all he could think about and picture was you. To his benefit, he still tried time and time again. His body count reached triple digits before he finally came to the conclusion he needs healthier coping skills. 

He still uses sex to let off steam every now and then, but it isn’t always because of you anymore. Life just gets stressful sometimes and they don’t call it a release for no reason. 

Jungkook’s smarter about his hook ups these days. Rather than fucking to forget you, he hits it from the back while shoving the woman’s face into his pillows so he can pretend she is you. He knows it isn’t right, and that he should probably see a damn therapist, but it helps. 

Ironically, and maybe disturbingly, thinking about you and Jaehyun having sex eases his mind a little. Because what you and his twin look like in the bedroom is exactly what he and you would look like, down to the last DNA molecule. 

It might seem contradictory to others, but his heart’s a convoluted, fucked up labyrinth. 

The last time he sees you and Jaehyun that evening is right before last call. You two are sitting at the head table with your knees touching as you giggle over a shared slice of cake. 

Jaehyun spots Jungkook from across the room, where he’s strolling away from the uncle he’s been reminiscing with for the last twenty minutes or so.

“Kook!” He calls with a wave. 

Jungkook quickly changes directions to greet you both and upon reaching the table, he pulls a chair out to sit opposite you. 

“What’s up, Mr. and Mrs?”

“Night’s almost over. Wanted to make sure you had fun,” Jaehyun states before taking another bite. 

“You kidding?” Jungkook scoffs. “I got to watch my twin brother marry the greatest girl in the world. It was the best day ever.” 

Sentiments aren’t usually Jungkook’s forte. Even his speech earlier was tough to utter out loud. Him and Jaehyun never vocalize their love for each other because they don’t need words to communicate. So, although it couldn’t be more true, it tastes foreign rolling off his tongue. 

“Okay, but besides that,” you interject. “Did you like the cake?”

You point to the dessert with your fork while playfully raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, it was great. Why?” 

“Because I made it,” you proudly chirp. 

Jungkook gawks.

“You made your own wedding cake? Isn’t that against the rules or something?”

When his comment makes you laugh, Jungkook does his best to ignore the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. 

“Well, I’m the best baker I know! Plus it gave me something to focus on besides my nerves right before the wedding.”

If there’s one thing Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re absolutely the best baker. You have been since he met you a decade ago, hence where the inspiring sketch for his nickname for you comes from. Every recipe you create features a little doodle of that particular treat. 

You have a business degree, just like him and Jaehyun, so one day you can achieve your lifelong dream of owning a bakery. For now, you work from your household kitchen and accept orders from friends, family, or people who find you through social media. Since Jaehyun’s now the youngest executive at their father’s company, his salary’s more than enough to cover all the expenses until you’re ready. 

One of Jungkook’s favorite things about visiting your house is the sweet treats always lying around. Not to mention you often use him and Jaehyun as taste testers. 

“Well, shit. No wonder it was so fucking delicious,” Jungkook declares. 

Jaehyun takes that as a cue to pass him an extra slice and Jungkook gladly accepts, eliciting a proud snicker from you. 

Before digging in, Jungkook scoops up a sizable piece and lifts his fork. 

“To the Jeons?” 

You and Jaehyun both flash blinding smiles in his direction before raising your own forks in the air. 

“Jeon Jaehyun, Jeon Jungkook, and Jeon Y/N,” Jaehyun recites. “I sure like the sound of that.”

“Me, too,” you agree while gazing at your husband like he hung the stars in the sky.

The three of you clink your utensils together and eat in perfect sync, prompting a unanimous moan of delight over the taste.

“Fuck, that’s so good,” Jaehyun mumbles with a mouthful of cake.  

Jungkook concurs by aggressively nodding his head along with the signature expression you call his “good food face.”

The familiar sight almost makes you choke when you start laughing prior to finishing the bite. You tell him all the time there’s just something about his forehead scrunching up and his eyebrows pinching together like he’s furious that tickles your funny bone. Especially considering it’s the exact opposite emotion of how he’s actually feeling. 

“You’re lucky, Jae. You get to eat the best desserts in Seoul free of charge for the rest of your life,” Jungkook tells his brother. 

You snort.

“Oh, and I’ll make you pay for them?” 

“You never know!” Jungkook has to dodge when you gingerly chuck a napkin at him. “Listen, when you own some big shot bakery in the city you won’t have time to bake for small fry like me.” 

“Kookie, I literally bake an extra half dozen of everything I make to account for how many you’ll steal,” you retort.

He smiles so big his eyes disappear, making it impossible to continue arguing his point because his heart’s doing backflips and somersaults. The thought of you doing something specifically for him is enough to heal almost all the scars of his unrequited love. 

Almost. 

Because five years later as he’s sneaking into a large banquet hall so no one realizes he’s ten minutes late, his heart still skips a beat when he spots you standing alone near the back. 

As always, you look utterly showstopping in a shimmery, navy gown with your hair styled up in an elegant ponytail. 

You don’t notice him at first because you’re focused on the introduction of your beloved husband for his big speech tonight. Jungkook uses the opportunity to admire you for a moment without any interruptions. You’re not doing anything special or particularly interesting, but your radiant smile and sparkling eyes alone are a better sight than he could ever pay for. 

In the midst of his shameless gawking, you turn your head and discover him by the door. Your face lights up with a wide, toothy grin while you enthusiastically wave him over. 

Jungkook can’t help but mirror the expression as he swiftly traverses the room to reach you near the long tables of refreshments. 

“Hey, Cupcake,” he whispers before paying attention to the stage just in time for Jaehyun to step out from behind the wings. 

Your friendly smile totally shifts when Jaehyun appears; becoming what can only be described as the glow of someone still profoundly in love even after fifteen years together. 

“Hi, Kookie.” 

Despite returning his greeting, you don’t look away from where Jaehyun’s shaking hands with the event organizer and getting comfortable behind the podium. 

His brother then clears his throat and flashes the crowd a cordial, humble grin. 

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he begins. “This is a very new experience for me, so I ask that you hold any hysterical laughter at my expense until the end of the speech.” 

A harmonious chuckle rolls through the room and it’s clear the audience is already charmed by Jaehyun. 

Jungkook can’t blame them. Ever since his twin took over as CEO following their dad’s retirement four years ago, he’s naturally come into his own and become a shining star of the corporate world. He couldn’t be prouder of Jaehyun and that’s the sole reason he’s attending an event like this. 

It’s a fundraiser for a new non-profit organization Jeon Industries is partnering with and even though Jaehyun repeatedly claimed he didn’t need to come to hear his speech, Jungkook wouldn’t miss one of his brother’s achievements for the world, no matter how insignificant. 

“Jae was so nervous beforehand he almost walked out of the house with two left shoes,” you lean over to inform Jungkook. 

The familiar behavior of his twin whenever he’s nervous produces a knowing, affectionate smile.

“Of course, he did.” 

You finally glance over after his reply and even warmly squeeze his bicep. 

“Thank you for coming.” Jaehyun’s speech falls to the back of his mind once it ventures into administrative mumbo-jumbo. “He loves to downplay his accomplishments and the more loved ones I shove in his face, the less he’s able to get away with it.” 

Jungkook chuckles.

“Anytime.” 

After reaching behind him to snag a dessert from the table, he casually pops the pastry into his mouth. Except it ends up tasting so damn delicious he almost moans out loud. 

He settles on just a quiet grunt while rolling his eyes and pointing at his mouth so you understand what’s causing such a response. But once he swallows, he faces you to demand an explanation.

“Holy shit. Where did the company get these?” 

One corner of your mouth twitches upwards. 

“Where do you think?”

Jungkook’s lips instantly form a shocked O as his eyes flicker between you and all the baked goods. 

“No!” You respond with a proud, avid nod. “Oh, Cupcake. That’s amazing!”

“The one you tried is my newest recipe.” 

“Wait, there’s no way you baked all these in your kitchen. Did you?”

The table is drowning in sweet treats and although you and Jaehyun now live in a rather grand estate, all this would demand no less than an industrial-sized kitchen.

“No, the company rented a space for me,” you explain. “I still had to prepare everything myself, though. It was insane.”

Jungkook’s positively beaming while you talk about the process because baking on a large scale is your dream and he can’t believe it’s finally coming true.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” 

When you meet his gaze again, he notices a light pink blush on your cheeks. 

“Thanks, Kookie.”

You both revert your full attention back to Jaehyun as the end of his speech approaches. At least until Jungkook leans over to whisper another comment.

“I should really wear burgundy more often,” he ponders aloud. “Jae looks like a fucking model.” 

As if you haven’t been staring at your husband all night long, your eyes slowly rake over his figure before you lick your lips and nod in agreement. 

Jaehyun’s sporting a sleek, burgundy suit with a navy dress shirt underneath, presumably to match your dress. He certainly fits the appearance of a CEO from the lavish clothes down to his hair that’s expertly styled without a single strand out of place. 

“He got it tailor made.” 

“So you’re saying I’ll still look like a schmuck regardless of what color I wear?” 

You make a noise that’s a perfect mixture of a huff and a chuckle.

“Kookie, you’re the only dive bar owner I know with a face like that. Give me a break.” Another scoff pushes past your lips. “Schmuck,” you tsk. 

He knows his nerves shouldn’t light up like fireworks over you complimenting his features. You’re married to someone with the exact same face, for Christ’s sake. Obviously you find him attractive. It would be slightly concerning if you didn’t.

Alas, no amount of logic can stop his body’s reaction to your comment. 

Just then, roaring applause from the conclusion of Jaehyun’s speech diverts his focus as you both join everyone in clapping for him. 

“Thank you all,” Jaehyun announces. “I hope that wasn’t too painful.” With his formal speech over and done, he visibly relaxes behind the podium. “I also hope you enjoy the remainder of the evening we have planned for you. Please take some time to mingle and help yourself to the wonderful spread of food and drinks available in the back. I especially recommend trying the delicious desserts made by my beautiful wife, Y/N.” 

Your jaw drops at the unexpected shout out, but you quickly force a smile when Jaehyun points at you and half the room turns over their shoulders to look. 

“I told him not to mention me,” you sing-song once the crowd’s attention is off you. 

Jungkook snickers.

“Cupcake, how long have you known him? Has Jae ever missed an opportunity to brag about you?” 

Lo and behold, Jaehyun continues after a moment.

“And if you need somewhere to go after, the best bar in town is only a couple blocks away and owned by my twin brother,” he proclaims. “Say hi, Jungkook!” While you burst into hysterical laughter that you muffle with your palm, Jungkook turns beet red and shoots daggers at his twin, but he still waves to the room so no one notices his ire. “I’m aware it can be confusing. So if you think we’re chatting, but it seems like I have no clue what you’re talking about, it might not be me.” 

Thankfully, Jaehyun’s humor pulls everyone’s eyes away so Jungkook can exhale a massive sigh of relief. 

You’re still giggling at his expense, but he can’t resist smiling despite wanting to throttle his darling brother. He should’ve known better, just as he told you, since Jaehyun always supports his loved ones regardless of time and place. 

By the time your laughter dies down, Jaehyun’s exiting the stage and weaving through the crowd in your direction. He’s stopped by multiple people along his path, but proceeds like a man on a mission by politely excusing himself to all of them. 

Once he’s close enough, he jogs over to you while you place your hands on your hips and shake your head.

“That was some stunt you pulled up there,” you teasingly scold him.

Jaehyun ignores your faux indignation with an adoring smile.

“C’mon, baby, you know I can barely go ten minutes without talking about you.”

He effortlessly scoops you up by the waist and your act falls away in an instant as you giggle and rest your forehead on his shoulder, your own arms circling his neck. 

“I’m so proud of you, honey,” you whisper while running your fingers through the short hair at his nape.

Jaehyun’s smile grows before he nuzzles his face against your throat to make you laugh again. 

“Couldn’t have done it without you, sweetheart.” Your feet soon return to the ground, but Jaehyun still keeps you in his embrace. “Was it alright?”

“It was perfect, Jae.” 

“Yeah? I didn’t talk too fast or anything?” 

One of your hands travels from his shoulder to his cheek.

“Not at all. It was the speech to end all speeches.”

Your reassurance, however playful, causes Jaehyun to breathe a sigh of relief. 

He steals a quick kiss and lets you go, but you two instinctively lace your fingers together so you’re still connected. You both turn towards Jungkook next, who immediately opens his arms for a congratulatory hug.

“You did great, bro,” Jungkook assures Jaehyun with a pat on the back.

After they part, Jaehyun returns to your side and rests his hand on your lower back. 

“Thanks, Kook. I really appreciate you coming out. You didn’t need to.” 

“Like I would ever want to miss all this?” Jungkook gestures to the massive crowd of blue and black suits standing around chit chatting. “You know I just adore the corporate world.” Jaehyun laughs at his brother’s signature sarcasm. “In all seriousness, I couldn’t not be here.” 

“Well, I hope you stay a while and indulge in all the food. There’s no chance the people here will finish everything.”  

“Oh, no worries, I’m about to clean you out of desserts.”

“No, you will not.” You cross your arms over your chest for dramatic effect even though it’s impossible for you to appear intimidating. “I made those for the guests. If you want some, I’ll bake you a separate batch.” 

Jungkook melodramatically clutches his heart.

“You would do that? For me?” 

You roll your eyes. 

“If it keeps you from demolishing my pastries.” 

Before you two can prolong your little skit, Jaehyun grabs your attention.

“Are you ready to schmooze with me?” You nod assuredly and he turns to Jungkook next. “Will we see you once we’re done or do you have to dip?” 

“Nah, I gotta get to the bar,” he answers. “It’s restock night so I need to do inventory.” 

Jaehyun frowns while closing the distance between them for another hug.

“That’s too bad, but thank you again for being here. And please take some food to go. Grab some for Jennie, too.”

“You got it,” Jungkook replies. “We’re still on for lunch tomorrow, right? Same time as usual?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. I’ll pick you up at your place,” Jaehyun confirms. 

Following their farewell, you step forward to hug Jungkook as well. 

“Love you. I’ll see you soon,” you tell him, as always.

“Love you, too, Cupcake.” 

After you unwind yourself from the embrace, you rejoin Jaehyun who’s already reaching out for you to take his hand. He kisses your knuckles once you're beside him again before you stroll away together to interact with all the guests. 

A deep sigh leaves Jungkook’s lungs as he surveys the table of expensive food and beverages. He knows he should listen to his brother and take some with him, especially considering he didn’t eat much earlier because he was too busy ordering new supplies for the bar. Alas, something inside always puts up resistance to the idea of mooching off Jaehyun, or more so his business. 

Perhaps it’s silly, but ever since becoming a business owner himself he feels the need to constantly stand on his own two feet. Even when what’s being offered is just some hors d’oeuvres from a fundraiser. Although, Jungkook does steal a couple more desserts before exiting the hall straight into the cold night air. 

His motorcycle’s currently in the shop for a tune up, hence why Jaehyun’s picking him up tomorrow for their monthly lunch. So, until further notice, he’s stuck traversing the five long blocks between him and his dive bar, Kookie’s. 

Jungkook never really dreamed of running a bar or even owning a business. He only chose to get a business degree in college because it’s the most versatile and he wasn’t sure what he wanted. But after seeing an ad three years ago for a bar going into foreclosure, something just kept nudging him until he finally applied for a loan to purchase the building. 

Now it’s practically his baby, and he does everything within his power to make it the best establishment it can be. He adores his staff, loves the location, and even enjoys mingling with regulars whenever he visits during business hours. 

The doorbell dings overhead as he strolls in from the street and the patrons surrounding the entrance all glance over to see who’s entering. Upon realizing it’s none other than Jungkook, they begin hollering and cheering while some raise their bottles in his direction. 

“Jeon! Didn’t know you were coming in tonight,” a frequent flyer, Felix, declares.

He successfully maintains his composure even though the warm welcome turns the tips of his ears pink. 

As he passes by to reach the counter, he pats Felix on the shoulder.

“I own the place, bro.” 

“True,” Felix chuckles. “But most nights it’s just Jennie running things.”

Jennie’s the bar manager, and also Jungkook’s best friend besides you and Jaehyun. Ironically, they met on Tinder, but when their only date ended in Jungkook drunkenly wailing about being in love with someone he can never have, Jennie unilaterally decided being just friends was the right approach. 

They have hooked up a fair amount of times over the years, though. Usually after a late night at the bar when their decision making skills wane too much to resist, but it never makes anything awkward between them. Jungkook can not only trust Jennie to run his business, but to keep him grounded and lend a shoulder to cry on whenever he needs it. 

He strives to do the same in return and seeing as they’ve been friends for close to ten years, he believes he’s doing an okay job. 

She’s currently at the register counting cash so she can add some to the bartender’s tip jar. It’s a well-known fact people tip more when there’s already money in there. 

Jungkook raps his knuckles against the wood to force her eyes up, which she does with a lighthearted chuckle.

“Whatcha doing here, boss? Thought you had Jaehyun’s event tonight.” 

“I did, but I left after his speech,” Jungkook explains. 

“I told you I can do inventory myself,” she argues.

The register slams shut before she raises a challenging eyebrow at him. Jungkook decides to play cute; pursing his lips, tilting his head, and leaning his body on the bar. 

“Can’t I just miss you?” 

“Ha!” Jennie rounds the counter and shoves his shoulder so he stands up straight again. “If you’re here, then you better get to work.” 

She tosses him the keys to the office and he stumbles back a bit in an effort to catch them. 

Jennie’s objectively gorgeous. Anyone with eyes will come to that conclusion after just a single glance. He’s also certain they’d be great together and could easily make each other happy for the rest of their lives. The only issue is Jungkook can’t bring himself to cross that divide. He cares about her too much to do so when his feelings for you are impermeable.

Even though he’ll never have a chance to be with you, Jennie doesn’t deserve to be anyone’s second choice. 

“Damn, Jen, you’re feisty tonight,” he teases. 

Her feet are already carrying her in the opposite direction, towards the kitchen behind the bar, but she still tosses a reply over her shoulder.  

“You would be too after the night I’ve had.”

Jungkook’s brow scrunches and he immediately forgoes the playful attitude to follow her.

“Hey, wait!” Upon catching up, he gently grabs her elbow to halt her steps. “What does that mean? What happened?”

Jennie’s chewing on her lower lip and Jungkook knows her well enough to understand she doesn’t want to answer, but he’s not about to let up.

“It was this guy. A newbie I’ve never seen before,” she explains. “Let’s just say he didn’t respect me very much as the manager. Or at all.”

“Excuse me?” A flame sparks in Jungkook’s chest. “What did he do? Are you hurt?”

On instinct, the hand on her elbow slides up to her shoulder as his eyes frantically inspect her for injuries. 

She’s plenty used to Jungkook being protective. A female manager in the bar scene isn’t exactly common and it can cause issues when drunk, belligerent men are involved. So, she reaches across her body to push his arm off while sending him a reassuring smile.

“He didn’t touch me, Kook,” she clarifies. “Just acted like a complete asshole.” A grateful sigh passes through his lips. “But his card was already on file so I flagged him in the system.”

“Good.” Jungkook sucks in air between his teeth and pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s good.” 

“Don’t —” 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“— apologize.”

“Jen, I’m your boss. Whether you like it or not, it’s my responsibility if you get harassed at work.”

“Yeah, well, whether you like it or not I’m a big girl who can handle herself.” She sighs and crosses her arms. “You don’t have to treat me like I’m fragile.”

That causes him to hesitate because he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. She’s right, and they both know it, but nothing will ever stop Jungkook from worrying about someone he cares about. 

“It’s not about you being fragile,” he counters. “I would just never forgive myself if something happened to you.” There’s a brief pause before he pivots tactics. “I mean, you’re my best friend. Pardon me for giving a shit.” 

Jennie laughs and her tense features soften a little.

“I appreciate it, Kook. You know I do. But some faith in me would be nice.”

Jungkook disagreeably shakes his head. 

“I believe in you more than anyone, Jen.”

This is a common debate between them. When Jungkook first opened Kookie’s, he asked Jennie to be the bartender since she’d worked as one in college. But once the bar became something more substantial, he needed help with the administrative tasks as opposed to pouring drinks. 

Jungkook wanted to hire someone externally, but Jennie begged him to give her the job instead. She claimed she knew the place front to back and anyone else wouldn’t be as efficient as her, which he truly couldn’t deny. 

He wasn’t hesitant because of a lack of trust in her to run things in his absence, but due to situations like this. Her safety and wellbeing are far more important to him than his business. 

Obviously, he eventually relented, and Jennie’s been the manager for over two years now. She does an outstanding job, but Jungkook still hovers and it makes her feel like he doesn’t find her capable enough for the role. 

But since they’re best friends above all else, they can argue about the same topic over and over again without any love lost. 

“If that’s true, then go home and let me finish the inventory,” she suggests. 

The idea causes Jungkook to click his tongue and rest his hands on his hips, but he knows she’ll throttle him if he doesn’t agree. 

“Alright. You take care of inventory, but I’ll run the front. Just in case that asshole decides to come back.”

“Deal.” They both relax following the consensus, each of them leaning against one of the steel counters in the kitchen. “So, why did you actually leave your brother’s thing early?” 

Jungkook pretends to be clueless by gently shaking his head.

“There wasn't one.”

“Uh huh.”

Although Jennie isn’t aware of Jungkook’s affection for you specifically, she knows something, or someone, in his life leaves him with an unrelenting ache. 

“Whatever. Get to work, subordinate.” 

Jennie gawks and chucks a dish towel at him that he seamlessly catches and uses to give her a noogie. She shrieks in response while pushing his chest, but Jungkook doesn’t stop until her hair looks like she was electrocuted. 

She huffs in frustration while Jungkook merely strolls out of the kitchen with a lingering laugh trailing behind him. 

The night concludes without a hitch, which gives Jennie bragging rights about Jungkook having nothing to worry about. She’s still working on the inventory when he locks the door and flips off the neon “OPEN” sign in the window, but she manages to convince him to go home. 

“You sure you’ll be alright here alone?” Jungkook asks a couple feet from the door. 

“If you ask me that one more time, you won’t be alright,” she threatens with a faux cordial smile. 

He knows she means it, so he sighs in defeat and does his signature two-finger salute before turning on his heel to leave.  

Less than twelve hours later, Jungkook’s waiting for Jaehyun outside his apartment for their monthly lunch. It’s a tradition they erected soon after college once they both entered the workforce. Unlike school, there’s no guarantee of seeing one another so they grab a meal together at least once a month. 

Of course, regardless of their plans, they usually hang out a couple times a week. 

Being a twin has a lot of perks, but the biggest one is having a built-in best friend. 

When a long black sedan pulls up in front of him, he doesn’t bat an eye since Jaehyun drives a sleek Mercedes just as he always has. But then the back window rolls down to reveal none other than his twin sporting a proud smirk.

“Hop in, broski,” Jaehyun chuckles.

Alternatively, Jungkook’s face drops into an incredulous glare.

“You’re kidding.”

Despite being a CEO, Jaehyun doesn’t really conform to the lifestyle of a filthy rich 30-something. For instance, he allows a driver to bring him from place to place for work purposes, but insists on using his own car for everything else. 

“Look, my meeting ran long and I didn’t have time to switch cars.”

“You’re making me look bad, you know. I’m a small business owner. I can’t be seen fraternizing with the enemy,” Jungkook complains. 

Jaehyun laughs again with an affectionate head shake.

“I’ll make my driver park around the block. C’mon.”

Jungkook relents following an overdramatic huff, but he still ducks behind a nearby pole to prolong the ruse that they shouldn’t be seen together. After quickly gazing in both directions and putting his hands up in a gun shape, he scurries over to the car before throwing the door open and front-rolling inside as fast as he can. 

Meanwhile, poor Jaehyun’s nearly in tears from the hysterical laughter overtaking him. 

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” he manages to comment between giggles.

The driver pulls away from the curb while Jaehyun’s busy drying the corners of his eyes and Jungkook’s settling in his seat. 

Even though Jaehyun’s been CEO of Jeon Industries for years at this point, Jungkook’s never ridden in the company car. At least not since childhood when they’d occasionally join their parents for an event. 

He observes the lush interior with wide, curious eyes while running his hands along the leather and buttons. When he presses down on the one right below the lock, a thick piece of black glass rises from between the two front seats and severs their connection with the driver.

“Damn! Even a partition?” He cheers. 

Jaehyun nods and leans back against the corner seat so he can face his brother. 

“Hell yeah. I told you being a company man isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jungkook flicks the glass and the sound echoes, telling him it really is as soundproof as they claim. “Huh. So how many times have you and Y/N…”

His hands gesture towards the partition and then the backseat, and Jaehyun immediately understands what’s being asked. He rolls his eyes like it’s a ridiculous question, but Jungkook just sends him a straight-faced, disbelieving look and soon enough Jaehyun smirks because he knows he’s been caught red handed. 

“About half a dozen. Give or take,” he answers. 

Jungkook snorts.

“Freaks.”

“Yah, you’re the one asking about your brother’s sex life.” The two share a laugh before Jaehyun changes topics. “Did you enjoy the fundraiser?”

“Ehhhhh.”

“Alright, alright,” Jaehyun graciously concedes.

“I mean, you know that’s not my scene. But I loved hearing your speech and Y/N’s desserts were out of this world.”

The mere mention of you pulls an endeared, lovesick sigh out of Jaehyun.

“Weren’t they? She worked so fucking hard and I’m just… in complete awe of her. As always.” 

A bright smile naturally spreads across Jungkook’s face. Whenever he hears Jaehyun rave about you he can’t help but feel cheerful. At least if he can’t have you, the best man in the entire world does. Plus, his twin’s happiness means more to him than both his own or anyone else’s. 

“She’s going to be a big name baker in no time,” Jungkook predicts. 

Jaehyun agreeably nods before a thought causes his head to tick to the side.

“Wait, did you try anything else? You know, the actual food?” Jungkook realizes he’s been discovered and attempts to cover his tracks with a cough, but his brother knows better. “Kook,” he scolds him.

“Listen —” 

“No, you listen.” Jaehyun fully turns towards him by bending one knee and resting it on the seat. “I know you don’t jive with this world.” He points around the car for emphasis. “And I know you equate taking anything from it with accepting charity, but that’s bullshit.” Jaehyun inhales to collect his thoughts before continuing. “We’re both business owners, yeah?” Jungkook nods. “Then it doesn’t matter how much profit our respective places make or that I run a corporation and you own a bar. You’ve worked just as hard as I have regardless of the industry you’re in. In fact, you probably worked harder than me to achieve everything you have now. Sure, I paid my dues at the company, but I was always going to take over as CEO after dad retired. You chased a dream; built something from the ground up that’s absolutely thriving. So there's no shame in possibly needing my or anybody’s help, business related or not.” 

Obviously, this conversation has nothing to do with food. This is something that’s been building for years because of Jungkook’s refusal to accept anything from Jaehyun, their parents, or anybody else since the moment they graduated from university. 

At first, it was because Jungkook felt like he had something to prove. Right after school, Jaehyun joined Jeon Industries while Jungkook floated from one well-meaning job to another. So, he thought he needed to show everyone, or maybe just himself, that he can stand on his own without his family’s wealth. 

Purchasing Kookie’s changed his perspective since there was no longer any doubt, self imposed or otherwise, that he could succeed by himself. But Jaehyun was already CEO by then and so his resistance shifted into something more akin to insecurity. Because while he had to take out a sizable loan to kickstart the business, a single paycheck of Jaehyun’s could’ve covered both the building and renovations. 

Which he offered to do without an ounce of hesitation when Jungkook originally told him his plan. 

Although he knows his brother meant well and he always appreciates Jaehyun’s support, he left the conversation feeling like he would never be enough. It’s not as though Kookie’s will ever bring in even a quarter of the profit Jeon Industries does, and that reignited his determination to prove he doesn’t need anyone but himself.  

Jaehyun doesn’t view the situation like Jungkook does and that’s where this grandstand’s coming from. He believes in both Jungkook’s choices and abilities as a businessman more than anyone and finds it ridiculous to compare two polar opposite careers. He also knows if the roles were reversed Jungkook would never shy away from helping him out.

“You just don’t get it, Jae,” he argues. 

“But I do, Kook. I understand putting your pride first and I’m not asking you to accept any handouts. I just want you to give yourself some grace, okay?” Jaehyun lays a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “You’re a goddamn bona fide success story if I’ve ever seen one and leaning on the people around you will never erase that.” 

Jungkook sighs while fiddling with his fingers in his lap, but soon enough his lips pull upwards into a smile. 

“Thanks, Jae. That means a lot coming from you.”

When he glances up again, Jaehyun’s wearing an identical grin. 

“It shouldn’t. I’m just some new money nepo baby,” he counters. 

The clever deflection leaves them both laughing as Jaehyun pats Jungkook’s shoulder again before retracting his hand. 

Jaehyun’s words resonate with Jungkook despite his prior stubbornness about the topic. He isn’t sure what it is about this specific conversation, but the weight he constantly carries on his shoulders feels a little lighter.

“You know I love you, right?” Jungkook asks. 

His twin smiles so wide his eyes become little crescents and Jungkook instantly mirrors the expression. 

“Always,” he assures him. “And I love you.” 

The two men happily giggle together, but after a moment Jaehyun’s face falls and his eyes grow cartoonishly wide. Jungkook notices the abrupt change right away, causing his eyebrows to kiss with confusion.

“Wha —” 

“Kook, get down!” 

Everything happens too fast to distinguish the proper order of events. All Jungkook registers is Jaehyun tackling him straight to the floor, an ear-piercing crash and the sound of metal scraping, and an unbelievable amount of pressure surrounding him. 

After that it’s just pitch black nothingness. 

A blinding, fluorescent light is what returns to Jungkook’s field of vision first. The bright white color overheard forces him to gradually blink his eyes open in order to accommodate the stark difference. 

There’s also a steady beep and low hum coming from somewhere in the room, but he’s still too disoriented to make sense of left or right, up and down. 

He groans and tries twisting his head, but his neck, and quite frankly, his entire body, feels stiff. When he finally manages to accomplish the task, he notices Jaehyun lying in a bed parallel to his own. 

On sheer instinct, his hand stretches out towards his twin. 

“Ja —” 

“Oh, you’re awake,” someone exclaims. 

Jungkook turns to locate the owner of the unfamiliar voice and finds a young nurse standing at the foot of his bed. 

“Where am I?” 

“You’re at Seoul National Hospital,” she calmly explains. “Do you know why you're here?” 

The fleeting, vivid memory of Jaehyun shouting his name flashes across his mind, but there isn’t much else. 

“Not really,” he answers. 

“You were in a car accident earlier and the paramedics brought you in.” 

“Oh.” That certainly tracks with the sounds and sensations he felt before passing out. “What about my —”

“Sir, I apologize, but there’s something else.” Jungkook looks at her expectantly, but she seems too nervous to speak as her fingers cling to the edges of her clipboard. “Your…” She gulps. “Sir, I’m so very sorry to tell you this, but… but your brother didn’t survive the crash.” 

For a singular moment in time, Jungkook’s mind, the world, and maybe even the heavens go hauntingly silent. 

Then all at once everything becomes total and utter chaos. 

Sirens, warning bells, screaming, alarms, whatever torturous noises may exist in this world all blare inside his skull until he believes it’ll explode from the pressure. He can’t think, hear, or see straight and somehow his body feels both weightless and heavier than a skyscraper. 

“What… what did you… you just say?” He stutters in fear.

“Sir —” 

“No, no. That’s not possible.” An extreme sense of panic is beginning to overtake him to the point he doesn’t even feel like he’s inside his own skin anymore. “That can’t be. He can’t be.”

It isn’t possible because that would mean he’s alone. That his other half, the matching piece of him which makes him whole, the person he shares a soul with… is gone. 

How could he ever survive in that condition? He doesn’t even know who he is without his twin. 

Nothing is the only answer that comes to mind.

“Sir, just try to stay calm. Why don’t you tell me your name?” 

The question completely catches him off guard.

“My name?” 

He’s having difficulty breathing and the room seems to be twisting and turning in different directions all around him, but she’s concerned with administrative details?

“Yes, focusing on something will help,” she claims. “Plus, we need to know for identification purposes. You and your brother’s wallets got thrown around during the crash so we haven’t been able to tell you apart.”

A contradicting mixture of confusion and enlightenment breaks through the black cloud hovering above him as he slowly discerns what that means.

So far he’s the only person who knows what happened. His parents, family, and friends have no idea which twin survived. At this very moment, he exists only in a limbo outside the real world where both he and Jaehyun are simultaneously alive and dead. 

Once he utters his name, the glass will shatter, and he’ll have to face reality. Not just him, though, but everyone. Which means…

Oh, god. You. 

A horrifying vision of you crumbling into a heap on the ground while you scream as loud as your lungs will let you whirls around his mind until it’s all he can imagine. He can picture exactly how your face will contort in agony as salty tears stain your cheeks and suddenly only one notion crosses his mind. 

That he would do anything to ensure that never happens.

“Jaehyun,” he whispers without a second thought. “I’m Jaehyun.”

It’s the stupidest, most reckless, and unhinged decision he’s ever made, but he doesn’t have any other choice. Not when he refuses to let his premonition come true. He has to protect you; shield you from the truth so you won’t ever have to feel the emotions he’s experiencing right now.

“Jaehyun,” the nurse repeats. “So, this is Jungkook?” 

She gestures to the other bed and Jungkook turns to see his brother for the first time since she told him. He honestly just looks to be sleeping, but after focusing more on Jaehyun’s appearance, he notices the cuts and bruises all over his face and exposed arm. 

It almost feels like she’s asking to give him one last chance to correct his original answer; to right the wrong before it’s solidified. But Jungkook doesn’t falter.

“Yes, that’s Jungkook.”

The nurse sighs deeply.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Loss?

No, that doesn’t sound right. The word is far too small to hold the weight of his twin. Then again, no word will ever be enough to describe everything that Jaehyun was. 

“What, um, happens now?” Jungkook tentatively asks.

She offers him a soft smile while stepping closer to his bedside. 

“I’ll go notify your family and they’ll contact a funeral home who will escort your brother to the morgue.” Jungkook grimaces at the thought of Jaehyun in such a cold, lifeless place. He doesn’t belong at a morgue. He belongs with him, you, and their parents. He’s meant to be somewhere warm and inviting just like he is. Or was. “You’re medically cleared so once you’re ready, you can join your family outside. You and your brother’s belongings are in those bags there so please take them with you.”

“What are my injuries? I don’t feel anything but sore.”

“That’s normal. You only suffered some minor bruising and superficial cuts,” she announces. 

That doesn’t compute with Jungkook and he begins shaking his head like it’ll somehow make sense of what she said.

“How is it possible for me to walk away almost entirely unscathed when Jungkook didn’t even survive the crash?” 

The sentence tastes weird coming out of his mouth. 

Her face falls and she starts chewing on her lower lip and flipping through the pages on her clipboard like she’s dreading the explanation. Finally, after a couple seconds, she sighs again and offers him a sympathetic look. 

“According to the paramedics, when they found you…” She pauses to inhale. “It appears your brother shielded you with his body. Between the floorboard and him covering you, it created a pocket of space that kept you safe from the effects of the crash. If he hadn’t, it’s highly unlikely either of you would’ve survived.” 

A harsh, violent sob rips through Jungkook’s chest and causes him to choke. He clasps his hand over his mouth when tears begin to endlessly cascade down his face. His heart feels like it’s being forcibly torn from his body and thrown into an incinerator, leaving behind just a shallow husk that’s drowning in red hot blood from the inside out. 

All he can think of is Jaehyun using his final moments to do the thing he always did best; protecting him. He suddenly remembers his brother’s eyes widening upon noticing something over Jungkook’s shoulder and how he didn’t hesitate for a second before springing into action. 

Jaehyun is only dead because Jungkook is alive. 

But that isn’t right. Jungkook refuses to accept it because Jaehyun’s the one who deserves to live. He has a wife, a massive company where people rely on him, and most of all, a heart full of pure gold. 

After a few minutes of crying so hard his throat hurts, he manages to take some deep breaths and slow the constant flow of tears from his eyes. 

“So, then,” he sniffles. “Am I the only person to survive?”

“That’s right,” she answers. “Your vehicle was hit by a semi-truck while stopped at a red light. The collision caused your car to roll three times before a telephone pole stopped its momentum. Due to the truck’s high speed, it slammed into a nearby building and the driver was killed on impact. No passersby were hurt, though.”

“Then what killed Jungkook was…”

“Blunt force trauma to the head and internal bleeding.”

He’s thankful he and Jaehyun traded places so often growing up or else this conversation would be close to impossible without tripping up. 

“Can I… can I stay here with him before I go?” 

“Of course. Take all the time you need,” she assures him. “When you’re ready, your family will be waiting for you right outside the double doors at the end of the hall.”

Jungkook mindlessly nods before thanking her as she turns to leave. Once she’s gone and the door shuts with a soft click, he attempts to sit up for the first time. 

His equilibrium is still skewed and an intense wave of vertigo gives him pause for a moment, but he eventually manages to swing his legs over the edge of the mattress and straighten his spine. 

His eyes remain fixed on the floor tiles while his mind filters through millions of different thoughts like a jukebox of misery. He starts to wonder if his loved ones know yet and if so, how they reacted. His heart shatters all over again at the idea of his mother and father finding out one of them is gone. They loved him and Jaehyun more than life itself and he can’t even begin to fathom the anguish they’ll be in. 

For a fleeting moment, an ugly, twisted thought occurs to him. 

Will people be relieved? Not necessarily that he died, but that Jaehyun’s the one who survived. 

Will you be relieved? 

You have to be, right? When you found out they were in an accident and one of them didn’t make it, you must’ve breathed a sigh of relief after hearing your beloved husband is alive. 

He certainly wouldn’t blame you if you did.

What Jungkook doesn’t know is that although he’s correct about his parents, he couldn’t be more wrong about your reaction. 

As soon as the nurse uttered the syllables of his name, their poor mother let out a horrific shriek and collapsed into her husband, who was too shocked to do anything but catch her with a face entirely devoid of emotion. Similarly, you screamed bloody murder into your palms before dropping into a chair and pulling your knees to your chest so you could hysterically wail into your jeans. 

It never occurred to you to feel even an ounce of relief because it wasn’t about which twin survived; losing either of them was too much to bear. 

Back in the hospital room, Jungkook finally lifts his eyes up until they land on Jaehyun. His brother still looks perfectly at peace tucked under the soft, white sheet. 

A piece of him wishes he could just remain here forever and convince himself Jaehyun’s only sleeping. In all honesty, he’d rather stay until his twin’s body is nothing but bones than live in the outside world without him. 

But he can’t do that because people out there need him. Well, they need Jaehyun. That’s the reason he’s going to live on as him.

His eyes water again as he observes his precious brother lying just ahead of him and soon enough his chest begins shaking from the intensity of his cries. 

“You’re such an idiot, Jae,” he croaks. “Why the fuck would you do that? Why would you… why would you save me?” Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief. “You have so many people who rely on you. You have Y/N, for Christ’s sake. Why would you protect me when they need you?” His words are coming out muffled due to his forceful sobs, but it doesn’t matter because no one else can hear him. “My life isn’t worth yours, Jae. Not even close.” He methodically swipes at his eyes, but the tears are unrelenting. “You should’ve been the one to survive, not me… never me.” Before Jungkook can even register his body moving, he drops to his knees beside Jaehyun’s bed and grabs his hand. It’s involuntary; like they’re a pair of magnets always meant to attract each other. Jungkook presses his forehead to his twin’s knuckles as he continues to gasp for air. “You. Can’t. Leave. Me.” His vocal chords are rubbed raw and each word escapes between hoarse hiccups. “Please, Jae,” he weeps. “Please, I can’t do this without you. I don’t know how. I’m not… I’m nothing without you. I’m not even a full person.” He switches to resting his cheek against the back of Jaehyun’s hand so he can see his face. “We were supposed to live this life together,” Jungkook whimpers. “It’s meant to be you and me until the end. And… and Y/N. Cheers to the Jeons, remember?” His tears are gradually subsiding, allowing him to finally inhale as his thoughts start to organize themselves. “That’s why I’m doing this. Because you should be here, Jae, and if the universe got it wrong, then I’ll make it right. I’ll let myself die and be the one who gets buried underground, so you can live on through me.” He reaches out to gently push the hair out of Jaehyun’s closed eyes. “I promise to take care of everyone. I’ll look after mom and dad and keep the company running. As for Y/N… I’ll make sure she never feels this. She won’t ever lose you, Jae.” Following a deep sigh, Jungkook rises from his knees and leans over to kiss Jaehyun’s forehead before adjusting his blanket to a more comfortable position. “You won’t be alone for long, okay? I’ll come to the funeral home as soon as I can.” His eyes fill up with tears again, but none fall. “I love you, big brother.”

Jaehyun always teased Jungkook about being eleven minutes older and often claimed he should be respectfully referred to as such. So, he figures he’ll give his twin the satisfaction at least once in this lifetime. 

Once his thoughts and emotions settle into just a dull hum in his ears, he takes another deep breath and gets ready to leave. He dresses himself in Jaehyun’s clothes and slips his belongings into his pockets until there’s none left. His next stop is the mirror, where he observes his own appearance for the first time. 

Frankly, he looks like hell even without extensive injuries. His face is sullen and devoid of light, his eyes have massive bags under them, and his hair is in knots all over his head. But at least he looks like Jaehyun, and that’s what matters. 

It’s a good thing he got a hair cut last week since prior to then the length was about three or four inches longer than his brother’s. 

There’s still one thing, though. 

Jungkook gasps when he remembers the distinct feature only he possesses while running his fingertips across his cheek. The infamous scar which will no doubt instantly give him away is a major problem. Luckily, the accident itself provides a perfect cover story. 

He quickly turns around to rummage through his own possessions for his pocket knife and upon locating it, he grabs an alcohol wipe from a bin of supplies in the room and sterilizes the blade. 

Once in front of the mirror again, he cranes his neck so he can see what he’s doing before placing the tip of the knife at the start of the small scar. 

“Just go slow, not too deep, and do not fuck up your face,” he instructs himself. 

Following a long inhale, he applies pressure and slowly glides the blade down his cheek until there’s a slightly longer, fresh cut hiding the old one. The metal stings as it slices his skin open and he hisses afterwards because of the ache on the left side of his face. 

Jungkook surveys the new mark to ensure it’s sufficient before snagging a bandage to cover the injury. Then he slings the hospital bag over his shoulder and turns towards his brother again.

“I’ll see you soon. Okay, Jae?”

He exits the room and closes the door behind him so no one disturbs his twin and heads for the double doors the nurse spoke of. When he reaches them, he stops to spend a moment counting his inhales and exhales as a means of calming himself down. 

Beyond this point, his whole world changes forever. Not only is it one where his brother doesn’t exist, but once he steps through the doors, Jungkook is dead. 

The life he knew is over and done, but losing his own identity is more than worth it to keep Jaehyun alive. 

After smacking the automatic button, he anxiously waits while the two doors swing open. His eyes flit around the waiting room for someone he recognizes and as if by fate, the first person his sights land on is you standing with his aunt near some chairs. He starts to open his mouth to call for you, but your head naturally turns in his direction first. 

The world seems to slow like a movie effect when you catch one another’s gaze. Your eyes open wider and your mouth forms a soft O, but soon enough all your features wilt as tears begin to pool along your waterline. 

“Jae,” you quietly gasp. 

Jungkook watches you place one foot in front of the other until you’re full-on running to him. He automatically follows your lead by rushing ahead and once you reach each other, he lifts you right off the ground while one hand circles your waist and the other cradles the back of your head. 

You’re already crying into his shirt where your face is hidden and Jungkook instinctively shushes you and pets your hair.

“I was so scared,” you whimper against his skin. 

“I know, baby, I know.” Jungkook twists his head so he can kiss your temple, where he whispers his next phrase. “But it’s all over now.”

A sorrowful, pained whine leaves your lips when you nuzzle yourself deeper into his neck. Jungkook echoes the action, resting his forehead on your shoulder while his fingers slide along your scalp. 

After what feels like both too long and not enough time, Jungkook returns you to the ground and pulls back so you can see each other. As soon as he does, he notices a wave of confusion cross your face. It makes him momentarily panic about the possibility of already being caught, but then the expression disappears just as quickly as it came. 

It’s replaced with the familiar look of devotion you always have around Jaehyun while your hands rise to cup his face. 

“Are you okay?” 

Your fingers delicately graze the bandage on his left cheek and he covers your hand with his own as a wordless reassurance. 

“It’s my only injury,” he answers. 

“What?” 

Based on your expression, it seems you’re experiencing the same puzzlement he did.

“Jungkook…” He pauses both for the sake of his emotions and to ensure he doesn’t mess up. “The nurse told me he protected me during the crash. And I remember him tackling me to the ground right before everything went black. That’s why I’m totally unharmed while he…” His voice trails off when fresh tears start blurring his vision. “It’s all my fault,” he cries.

Jungkook’s already shaking again by the time you force him into another embrace so he can sob into your neck. Just as he did with you, one of your hands slinks up into his hair while the other creates soothing circles along his spine. 

“That’s not true, baby,” you profess in his ear. “And he wouldn’t want you to think like that.” 

The comfort of your voice ironically just makes him wail louder as he clings to your shirt like a lifeline. He’s certain if you weren’t holding him he’d already be on his knees. His grief is inconceivable and the only reason he isn’t drowning is because your arms are around him. 

When he lifts his head again, you immediately wipe away the remaining tears on his cheeks.

“We should be with your family,” you suggest. 

He nods despite dreading the idea of seeing his parent’s faces right now, but before you can lead him across the room by his hand, a new thought occurs.

“Wait,” he calls while grabbing your arm to stop you. “The bar. Does anyone there know yet?”

An image of Jennie flashes in his mind and causes his heart to clench. 

He hasn’t had time to consider all the consequences of throwing his own life away just yet. Including how it’ll affect everyone he loves, because while he’ll get to see all of them again, they’ll never see him. 

His last moments with Jennie will forever be her playfully threatening him if he didn’t stop being so damn protective. It was such a mundane and familiar scene, but now it bears the weight of their entire friendship. 

“No, we’ve only called family so far,” you respond.

Jungkook grimaces. 

“We need to tell them. Jennie, at the very least.”

“I’ll do it.”

“What? No —”

“You should be with your family and she deserves to hear it in person,” you argue.

He can’t refute that, no matter how much he wants you to stay by his side. 

“Okay,” he relents. 

You steal the hand resting on your elbow so you can encompass it between your own and plant a gentle kiss on his knuckles. 

“We’ll meet back at home?” 

Jungkook nods and you leave soon after for Kookie’s, hopefully arriving before the bar opens. In the meantime, he tries to regulate his nervous system and emotions so he can greet his family. He knows it’s technically pointless since he’s going to break down again as soon as he sees his parents, but he has to at least try holding it together. 

Once he rounds the corner from the hallway, he notices a small group of his loved ones gathered together. Most of his aunts, uncles, and cousins are present and thankfully, everyone seems to be okay at the moment. 

His eyes land on his mom and dad near the back of the crowd and the thought of interacting with them for the first time as an only child makes him want to vomit. Alas, he can’t put it off forever.

“Mom,” he softly calls for her. 

Her head instantly whips in the direction of his voice and Jungkook holds his breath in anticipation. 

“Oh, Jae!” 

She scurries over to him like a bullet and Jungkook helps close the gap before throwing his arms around her. His mom hugs him so tight he worries she might crack his ribs, but he doesn’t mind. This is precisely what he needs. 

As expected, he’s already crying again and he can hear his mom sniffling in his ear. It causes all his horrible, overwhelming thoughts and feelings to come roaring back stronger than ever despite her comforting embrace. 

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” she whispers. 

His heart cracks right down the middle and suddenly the deep sobs from earlier return to haunt him.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Shh. You have nothing to be sorry about, sweetie.” 

“He should be here.” Jungkook gasps and chokes on nothing but his crushing guilt. “He’s supposed to be here.” His mom gently tugs him upright so she can caress his face and swipe at his tears. “I’m not meant to be alone. We’re two for a reason. I’m… I’m only half a person. How am I supposed to survive with half of me missing?”

“But you’re not alone,” she assures him. “You’ve got us. You’ve got Y/N. We’re here, my darling.” 

He doesn’t know how to explain what someone else will never be able to understand. No one but him and Jaehyun, and perhaps all the other identical twins in the world, can comprehend what this feels like. It’s like being slowly ripped in half with a dull knife; his very soul stretching across an incomprehensible divide. 

“It isn’t the same, mom.” His tears are finally beginning to wane again and allowing him to speak clearer. “You have no idea. It isn’t possible for you to.” 

She frowns and drops her hands from his face to hold both of his instead. 

“Maybe not, but I think I can come pretty close.” Her voice breaks at the end of her sentence. “I gave birth to two beautiful boys. But now only one’s standing in front of me.” Jungkook’s stomach drops while she inhales to prevent more tears from falling. “You claim you’re cut in half, but I’m in thirds.”

“Mom,” Jungkook cries.

“I’m not telling you that to make you feel bad, sweetie.” She squeezes his hands a few times with a soft smile on her lips. It’s an expression only a mother could manage at a time like this. “It’s so you know we’re in this together.” 

He has to briefly close his eyes to keep his emotions in check, especially when his mom reaches up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His dad approaches them soon after, causing a similar cycle of tears and tight hugs to repeat. 

By the time Jungkook’s spoken to everyone at least once, he’s so mentally and physically drained he can barely stand up straight. His parents drive him home, Jaehyun’s home, and your car’s already there when they pull into the driveway. 

“I’ll come over tomorrow,” he declares. “So we can talk about… stuff.” 

“Alright, darling,” his mom responds, turning around to rest her hand atop his own. 

Jungkook exits the car after a quick goodbye and fishes through Jaehyun’s coat pocket for the house keys as he walks towards the front door. He manages to locate them, but his brother’s key ring has at least ten others dangling from the small, metal loop. 

“Jesus Christ, Jae,” he mumbles to himself while attempting each one. 

Once he succeeds in opening the door, he peers inside before entering the house and turning the lock behind him. 

It’s almost eerily silent in the home. Of all the times he’s been here, there's almost always music playing or a kitchen timer going off. He supposes it’s fitting, though. Without Jaehyun, the world is simply duller.

“Sweetheart?” He calls as he slips off his shoes and hangs his coat on the rack. 

He doesn’t hear a single peep until he nears the master bedroom. 

The door’s slightly cracked, but enough for Jungkook to spot you sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed. You’re crying so hard your breath is skipping every couple seconds as your upper body rattles. It’s heartbreaking to witness, and even more so when he realizes you’re also clutching a picture frame to your chest. 

Jungkook inhales in preparation and then lifts his hand to rap his knuckles against the wood. Your head rises at the unexpected sound and it turns out seeing your somber, tearful expression is even worse than watching you sob. 

“Hi,” you rasp. 

“Hi, baby.” You use your shirtsleeve to dry the tears on your cheeks while Jungkook walks further into the bedroom. He sits down once he’s close enough before sliding over until your shoulders brush. Like its muscle memory, you melt into his side while your body releases all the built-up tension. “Whatcha got there?”

Your eyes drop to the object in your hands and you tentatively pull it away from your chest to rest it on your knees so Jungkook can see. 

It’s a photo from your wedding, one of you and Jungkook taken after the ceremony by your photographer. Besides the bride and groom portraits, you had them capture quite a few pictures of Jungkook and Jaehyun, the three of you, and finally you and Jungkook. 

In this particular image, Jungkook’s hugging you from behind, but he’d tickled you right as the photographer snapped the picture, resulting in an adorable still shot of you two laughing. Just like you always do whenever you’re together. 

Did. Since he’s effectively dead now. 

Jungkook hasn’t seen the photo in a while, even though it’s framed in his office amongst other photos from your wedding day. It’s hung up on the opposite wall to his desk, so he has to make a point of gazing at them when he isn’t working.

The framed photograph automatically produces fresh tears, although they feel happier than his previous ones. 

“I love that photo,” he chuckles while using his thumb to dry his cheek. 

“Mmhm,” you hum with a hint of a grin. “Me, too.” Jungkook watches your fingers run down the glass so you can trace his face in the image. You hiccup and sniffle, but it isn’t enough, and you begin softly crying a second later. “I can’t…” You inhale deeply. “I just can’t believe he’s gone.” 

You’re sobbing again before you can stop yourself and automatically cling to Jungkook by slinging your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shirt. His hands slide around your waist to hold you tight and he even tugs you across his lap so he can gently rock you back and forth. 

He won’t lie and say it doesn’t satisfy something malignant inside him that this is your reaction. His worst fear was that you'd be too happy about Jaehyun being alive to care about Jungkook being dead. But it’s a miniscule piece of him. For the most part, his heart aches at the mere thought of you being sad or in pain.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. “I’m trying to be strong for you.” 

Jungkook’s face immediately scrunches in disapproval.

“I don’t want that, baby.” He trails a hand up your back to lift your head as his mom’s words from earlier echo in his mind. “We’re in this together.” 

You shake your head.

“It isn’t the same for me as it is for you. I’m your wife, I need to be there for you.”

“You are,” Jungkook interjects. “Just by being here in my arms and looking at me like you always do. It’s more than enough.”

Instead of replying, you collapse back into him while tightening your hold. Jungkook follows suit just as vehemently until you two can’t possibly get any closer. 

After a few minutes, you both naturally unwind from the embrace, although you stay in his lap and draw absentminded shapes along his collarbone with your fingernail. 

“How did it go? Is Jennie alright?” He eventually asks. 

“Not even close.” When Jungkook’s eyes tilt down in concern, you elaborate. “I don’t know if I’ve ever heard such a horrible sound before. She screamed like… like I’d plunged my hand into her chest and suffocated her heart. Then she just started chanting ‘no, no, no’ until it mixed in with the shrieking to become this gut wrenching… prayer, almost. I had to catch her, too, because she instantly started dropping to her knees. But she clung to me so tight it brought us straight down to the floor. And that’s where we stayed while she sobbed and whimpered his name until her voice was gone.” 

As you speak, Jungkook has to drive his nails into his palms to keep it together. Because Jaehyun wouldn’t react to that news like he would. 

For him, every word you utter stomps on his lungs with the weight of an elephant. Not only because the vision you’re painting is downright agonizing to imagine, but because it’s all his fault.

In saving you from the heartache of losing Jaehyun, he condemned Jennie to that fate instead. Sure, it isn’t exactly the same since their relationship’s platonic, but she’s still his best friend of a decade.

“She’s not still there, is she? All alone?” 

“Oh, god, no,” you confirm. “Once she calmed down, I helped her hang a sign on the door stating Kookie’s would be closed until further notice and drove her home. I also told her to call me if she needs anything.” 

Jungkook nods along with a sigh of relief before allowing his head to rest on your shoulder. It's becoming increasingly difficult to even hold it up, but it helps when you start combing through his hair and kissing his crown. The sensation of your fingertips on his scalp elicits an appreciative hum and soon enough his entire body relaxes against you. 

“You should get some sleep, honey.”

He shakes his head while lifting it again to meet your gaze. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to,” he admits. 

“Well, let’s at least get you out of these clothes.” 

After standing up, you offer him your hands and he takes them without a second thought so you can help pull him to his feet. You begin to lead him towards the en-suite, but suddenly Jungkook’s paralyzed with a completely new fear. He halts fast, causing you to get tugged back in his direction. 

“Jae?”

“I can’t…” 

“What’s wrong?” You attempt to survey his expression, but he’s staring straight past you into the large bathroom. “Honey?”

“I can’t… um… can’t…” He exhales a shaky breath. “I don’t wanna look in the mirror.” 

Earlier when he was ensuring his appearance would exactly match Jaehyun’s, his adrenaline and determination were guiding him and he didn’t think much about it. But now that his body and mind have had time to settle, the idea of looking in the mirror and seeing his twin’s face staring back is terrifying. 

Luckily, you steal his attention by gently pulling his face down so he’s looking at you instead, freeing him from the anxious reverie.  

“That’s alright. You don’t have to,” you reassure him. 

“How? I mean, there’s one in every bathroom.”

You thoughtfully purse your lips and glance back over your shoulder at the room in question. 

“Give me a minute?” 

Jungkook nods despite not knowing what you’re thinking and sits on the edge of the bed once you leave the room. 

When you return, you have a roll of parchment paper, tape, scissors, and a couple other miscellaneous household items. You hurry into the en-suite before Jungkook can question you and close the door behind you, but he still hears the various noises coming from inside.

You emerge about ten minutes later with a prideful grin and steal his hand to bring him into the bathroom with you. Jungkook’s just about to object in case he accidentally catches sight of himself, but the realization of what you did stops him in his tracks. 

The massive mirrors which hang above the double sinks are completely covered by multiple layers of parchment paper and taped down around the entire perimeter so they won’t budge. Best of all, there’s a small note in the bottom corner that reads “I love you” followed by an adorable smiley face. 

“I’ll take care of the other bathrooms save for one tomorrow,” you state. 

Jungkook can barely hear you because he's too focused on what you’ve done for him. His eyes flicker back and forth across the mirrors as if it’ll all disappear if he looks away. But it won’t, because you’ll make sure it doesn’t until the moment he’s ready to meet his reflection again. 

Tears flood his eyes and cause him to sniffle the longer he admires your work. When you hear the sound, you look at him in concern. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jungkook mumbles between hiccups. “I just don’t deserve you.” 

Your expression melts into one of nothing but love as you reach out to push his hair back.

“You can say that all you want, baby, but it’ll never make it true.”

He shakes his head. For what, he isn’t sure. Perhaps because he disagrees with your statement or maybe he’s just in complete disbelief over how truly wonderful you are.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

You simply shrug with a soft, gorgeous smile.

“There’s no need.”

The two of you proceed to complete your nightly routines side by side. Other than when you head to a different bathroom so you can see what you’re doing while you wash your face and apply products. 

Jungkook finishes first and decides to change clothes prior to you returning. It just feels like the right move, all things considered. Thankfully, he’s spent enough time here to know where Jaehyun keeps his things, such as pajamas.

He’s already in bed by the time you come back and you affectionately grin over how cute he looks snuggled up beneath the sheets. 

“Comfy?” 

The question encourages Jungkook to run his fingers along the edge of the blankets. They’re much softer than the ones back at his apartment. Which certainly tracks considering Jaehyun made well over six figures and Jungkook doesn’t even budget a salary for himself among the expenses for the bar.

“Yeah.”

His meek reply produces a wave of sadness on your face, but you don’t comment on it and head straight towards your closet to find something for bed. When you return, you’re holding your pajamas. Jungkook quickly realizes what that means and looks down to avoid seeing you change. 

He knows he can’t do so forever, but he really doesn’t want tonight to be the first time he sees you naked after being helplessly in love with you for fifteen years. 

The mattress dips as you climb in beside him and Jungkook glances up again now that he knows the coast is clear. You make yourself comfortable by sliding beneath the sheets and lying on your side so you’re facing him. He quickly mirrors you, leaving you two only a couple inches apart in the large bed. 

“Is it a stupid question to ask how you’re doing?” He shakes his head. “Alright. How are you doing?”

Despite everything, including that he’s doing absolutely terrible, he can’t help but faintly smile at you. 

“Honestly?” 

“Mmhm.”

After a deep sigh, Jungkook’s hand finds your own under the blanket so he can lace your fingers together. 

“I don’t know how I would’ve survived without you,” he confesses. 

You squeeze his hand and he swears it’s like someone removing a one hundred pound weight from his back. 

“And that’s exactly how we’re gonna get through this,” you claim. “You just lean on me and I’ll see that you make it out safely.” 

Jungkook genuinely doesn’t know how much more his heart can take. You’re an angel amongst humans, and he feels woefully unprepared to experience being loved by you. 

“I’m kinda heavy, we might need to take a lot of breaks,” Jungkook teases. 

The beautiful, melodic laugh he adores so much passes through your lips and prompts him to join in. 

“That’s alright. No matter how long it takes, I’ll carry you the whole way.” 

More tears prick the corners of Jungkook’s eyes, but you reach out to stop them in their tracks before he can do so himself. 

“You’re… you’re the best thing to ever happen to me, Y/N,” he cries. 

It’s true. Even though you’ve only ever had a platonic relationship before tonight, he can’t imagine his life without you. 

“Me, too,” you whisper while caressing his cheek. “I love you, Jaehyun.”

Jungkook forces his eyes shut while willing himself not to cry anymore, but it's difficult to combat the raging whirlpool of emotions coursing through him. One being the profound sadness of hearing you say Jaehyun’s name. His twin who’s currently lying on a cold, steel slab at a funeral home across town. But that’s the precise reason he’s doing this, because you love Jaehyun, and Jungkook loves you. Enough to throw his whole life away just so you’ll never know the pain of losing the person you love. 

On the flip side, there’s also the guilt slowly eating away at him. Even though his motives are benign, it doesn’t change him lying in bed with his brother’s wife on the evening of his death. 

The worst part is Jungkook never wanted this. No matter how much he loves you, he never once wished you would be with him instead of Jaehyun. You two were a match made in heaven, and Jungkook’s devotion to you both vastly outweighed his desire. Hence his determination to make sure your love lives on. 

But now he’s left with no choice but to end his fifteen years of yearning, with this being the defining moment. 

For the first time, whether you’re aware it’s him or not, he’s able to tell you he loves you. He’s uttered the infamous phrase to you a million times over the years, but only platonically. Tonight he’s allowed to mean it. 

“I love you,” he declares, clear and simple; without an ounce of hesitation. Except once his adoration’s finally out in the open, suddenly it’s all Jungkook wants to say. “I love you, Y/N.” Entirely on instinct, he closes the gap between you by grabbing your waist and tugging you into him. “I love you.” Your arms circle his neck as your body naturally molds to the shape of his own. “I love you.” His opposite hand rises to push your hair back and cradle your jaw. “I love you.” He doesn’t know who moves first, but your foreheads meet in the middle, causing your noses to brush. “Y/N, I love you.”

You’re crying again and he doesn’t realize he is too until your hand slides up his cheek to wipe away the fresh tears. He returns the favor, but it’s useless against the endless raindrops falling from your eyes. 

“I thought I was gonna lose you today,” you confess. “None of the doctors or nurses would tell us anything. But the news was reporting multiple people dead at the scene.” You hiccup. “And I was so fucking terrified, Jae.”

Jungkook shakes his head while soothingly running his thumb back and forth along your cheekbone.

“I’ll never let that happen. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“But I… I still lost him.” Even through the tears, you manage a small, nostalgic smile. “My Kookie.”

He hasn’t heard you refer to him like that since your wedding and it's just as heart stopping as the first time. 

“No,” he disagrees. “Jungkook will always be with us. Him and I were one soul in two bodies. Now we’re just together in this one.” 

The irony is so potent he can practically taste it. 

“Then will you give him a message for me?” 

His eyebrows rise, not expecting your response in the slightest, but he still nods. 

Both your eyes and hand drop to his chest where you trace along the stripes on his shirt. Jungkook can’t tell if you’re simply thinking about what you want to say or are hesitant to vocalize it. 

“Kookie,” you softly exhale. “I’m really thankful you protected the person we both love most today.” A belated tear escapes from your waterline. “But I’m also really fucking angry at you for leaving us.”

It takes Jungkook a minute to process your declaration because his brain’s just one, big, jumbled mess of both him and Jaehyun. Once he manages to, he clears his throat and captures your gaze again. 

“Message received,” he tells you with a smile. 

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, baby.”

Surprisingly, Jungkook’s actually able to fall asleep. He imagines it’s because you remain in his arms all night and your comforting smell, warmth, and touch are enough to keep him in a deep slumber. 

Waking up in a world without Jaehyun for the first time is bizarre, to say the least. Especially considering the moment his eyes open, he’s thrust right back into his brother’s life. 

The scent of sweets is wafting through the house as he rises from bed and twists until his feet meet the floor. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and stretches his body that’s still sore from yesterday before glancing around the room. 

Everywhere he looks are pieces of Jaehyun, but rather than being a reminder of the horrors he faced yesterday, they soothe his scattered mind. Similar to what he told you last night, being in this room makes him feel like his brother’s still here with him. 

After gathering his bearings and changing into something comfortable to wear for the day, he goes downstairs to find you. 

As always, you’re standing in the kitchen sipping from a mug and flipping through a recipe book. He spots you before you notice him because the house’s open concept allows him to see the lower level before reaching the final step. He uses it to his advantage, giving himself a second to admire you uninterrupted.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he greets you while stepping down onto the first floor. 

You glance up at the sound and your entire face glows with adoration. Jungkook doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to that. You’re almost too radiant to look at head on. 

“Hi, honey,” you coo. 

The mug clinks on the countertop when you set it down and round the corner to reach him. As soon as you do, you slide your arms around his waist and place your ear to his chest. Jungkook hopes you can’t hear the jackrabbiting tempo of his heart; something your husband of five years shouldn’t have. 

Jungkook wraps his limbs around your neck in return, letting them lay limp on your shoulders while he bends down to kiss the top of your head. 

“Did you sleep well?” 

He feels you nod against his sternum and a smile immediately spreads across his face. You gaze up afterwards, taking a step back at the same time so you don’t have to crane your neck. 

“How are you doing?”

“I feel… weird,” he admits. “I don’t really know how to describe it.”

“That’s alright,” you assure him. “I’ll still do my best to understand, okay?” His grin grows as he acknowledges your pledge with a nod. “The bathroom mirrors are all covered now except for the half bath near the guest room. But I put a sign on the door so you don’t forget.” 

“Thank you so much.” 

“It’s the least I can do.” You turn on your heel to return to the kitchen while Jungkook follows like a lost puppy. Not only because this isn’t his normal morning routine, but because he just wants to be near you. “I made all your favorites for breakfast.” 

With a gesture at the dining room table, you show off the massive spread of both savory and sweet dishes. Honestly, Jungkook can’t believe what’s seeing. He’s always known you to be a doting, giving wife, but Jaehyun had it fucking made. 

“Baby, I don’t even know what to say.” His feet carry him to your side while his eyes keep surveying all the different foods. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

One of your hands gently tugs on his chin to turn his face back to you. 

“I know. I wanted to do this because I love you. Simple as that.”

“I love you,” he whispers, almost like an automatic, involuntary response. 

“Then will you please eat all the yummy food I made for you?”

He chuckles and nods before sitting at the table and beginning to dig in. A couple minutes later, you return with two mugs and set one down in front of him. His eyes grow with curiosity as he leans over to check the contents, but his face falters upon realizing what it is.

Hot chocolate with mini marshmallows. His brother’s favorite. 

Jungkook loves hot chocolate, too, but he hates when marshmallows are included. He swears they ruin the flavor and turn the entire drink into a lumpy mess. 

But Jungkook’s dead for all intents and purposes, so marshmallows it is for the rest of his life. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

You hum in acknowledgment prior to turning around so you can grab something else. It’s a good thing because after Jungkook takes his first sip, he gags and lays his tongue out to try getting rid of the taste. 

“So, I talked to your mom this morning and she said we’re welcome to come over whenever we’re ready to start working through all the logistics,” you explain while strolling in from the kitchen. 

After coming back once again, you sit down in the seat next to him.

“Do you think we can go to the funeral home today? I promised Jungkook I wouldn’t leave him alone for too long.”

“Well, he might not be ready for visitors yet. If you know what I mean?” 

He really wishes he didn’t. The thought of his brother getting pumped with chemicals to slow the decaying of his body makes him sick to his stomach. 

“Right. Do you think they’ll tell us once he is?” 

“We can always call and ask,” you suggest. 

Jungkook hums before you both continue eating your breakfast in a comfortable silence. 

Following the meal, Jungkook asks you to help him look more presentable since he can’t use a mirror to do so himself. You’ve both already showered and gotten dressed, so all that’s left is to fix his hair and swap out the bandage on his cheek. 

You ask him to sit on the edge of the bed while you grab a hairbrush and the first aid kit. He waits patiently as instructed and once you come back, you stand between his open legs and place the items beside him on the mattress.

The first task you attempt is changing his bandage, which you begin by delicately removing the current one. Jungkook hisses when the tape pulls at his skin, but the pain is brief. 

Afterwards, he admires your face of determination as you clean the cut with an alcohol pad. He expects you to apply some ointment and the new bandage next, but instead you just stare at the small, red mark with a thoughtful expression.

“What is it?” He inquires.

You click your tongue and shake your head like you’re still debating on the answer yourself.

“Nothing. It's just… what are the odds you walk away with only a single injury and it happens to be in the exact spot your brother’s scar was?” 

Jungkook’s heart drops, but he soon realizes you aren’t accusing him of anything and are simply pointing out the coincidence. 

“I noticed that, too,” he responds. “I guess the universe just wanted to ensure I have a reminder every time I look in the mirror.” A hollow, dark chuckle escapes him. “As if my identical fucking face isn’t enough.”

“Oh, but it’s such a nice face.” Your fingers trail down his chin so you can tilt his head up. “So handsome god had to make two of them.”

His responding laugh is instantaneous and bright. He even squeezes his eyes shut as both rows of teeth make an appearance. It prompts you to parrot the sound while lovingly caressing his jaw. 

Once the delightful energy simmers, he ensnares your waist to pull you close and bury his face in your stomach. His hands glide up and down your back as he holds you and you reciprocate by carding your fingers through his hair. 

“Thank you. I needed that.” 

“Always, baby,” you reply with a kiss to his crown. 

You finish with the injury and brush his freshly washed hair before heading to his parents’ place about thirty minutes away. Jungkook drives, claiming the control of being behind the wheel will help with the anxiety of stepping into a vehicle only a day after a life altering accident. 

When you two arrive, your hand immediately finds his as you stroll towards the entrance together. He always saw the same thing happen with you and Jaehyun, but he never realized just how instinctual it is. Even though it’s been less than a day, he has an insatiable urge to touch you at all times. 

His mom meets you both at the door and everyone exchanges warm hugs before entering the house. It seems his folks had an early morning because there's already photo albums and legal paperwork strewn all over the kitchen table. 

“Alright,” his mom announces. “We’ve got a long to-do list, but we also need to make sure we’re checking in on each other. Yes?” You and Jungkook nod in sync. “So, funeral and burial comes first. We need to choose the date and time, casket, and headstone. Along with writing the obituary and sorting through photos. Afterwards, we need to discuss logistics regarding the apartment, the bar, his motorcycle, etc.”

“If you can’t tell, your mother’s coping by running this house like a drill sergeant,” his dad pipes up from behind her.

The lighthearted humor at the time like this is precisely what everyone needs and allows for the air to feel a little less suffocating. 

“I can start on the photos while you all focus on the burial arrangements,” you offer. 

“And I’m going to take care of the obituary,” his dad adds. 

Jungkook’s teeth sink into his lower lip as he observes the table’s contents representing everything that still has to be done. It’s overwhelming enough learning how to survive alone after thirty one years of being a pair, but now there’s a laundry list of other tasks, too. 

“That sounds… good,” he whispers. 

You comfortingly squeeze his hand and it leads him to glance over at you. You’re wearing a sweet, supportive smile and you also lift your eyebrows to silently ask if he’s alright. After he nods, you tug on his arm to pull you closer together. 

“Jae, sweetie,” his mom grabs his attention. “Can you run upstairs and grab the 2001 photo album? It’s the only one missing.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He lets go of your hand at the same time you step into the kitchen to begin sorting photos. It doesn’t really phase him to walk up the large staircase in his home, but once he reaches the top, his heart drops.

Him and Jaehyun’s rooms are directly across from another at the top of the steps, with a small landing separating them. Neither twin has changed the layout or decor since moving out, so they’re still perfectly preserved time capsules of their youth. 

He ventures into his own room first by gently pressing on the door until it swings open. It seems smaller than when he was young, but everything is identical otherwise. His feet carry him around the perimeter a couple times as he runs his hands along the furniture, trophies, books, and collectibles throughout the room. 

This is it, he supposes. Everything that makes him, him, will be buried along with his brother because he’ll never be Jungkook again in this lifetime. It makes his grief even more daunting and convoluted because while he’s mourning Jaehyun, a piece of him is also mourning himself. 

His fist taps the desk a few times as he inhales and lets the air gradually exit through his lips. 

“Goodbye, Jungkook.” A tiny smirk appears. “It’s been fun.”

While walking backwards, he admires the bedroom a little longer before closing the door. 

His next stop is Jaehyun’s bedroom and he has to take in another large gulp of oxygen just to prepare himself. With a push, he opens the door the same as he did his own room and crosses the threshold into the familiar space. 

He doesn’t recall the last time he was in here, but his memories with Jaehyun are present all around him.

Brief flashes and mirages of their time growing up together play on the walls and across the different pieces of furniture. Like the time they tried to pull an all-nighter at the ripe age of eight only to crash at four in the morning with a pile of candy and soda bottles between them. Or when they were chasing each other around at age eleven and ended up breaking the bed frame by jumping on the mattress too hard. And another one from when they were fourteen and play-wrestling on the floor until one of them accidentally kicked the dresser and shattered a lamp. 

They were rambunctious, devious, and fun-loving throughout their entire lives, up until their final moments together. 

Most of all, Jungkook remembers lying on his twin’s bed the night Jaehyun told him about you. It’s strange to think how different the last fifteen years would’ve been if that had never occurred. You’re such an integral part of their lives and as his mind replays the memory, he can’t help but smile. 

It isn’t for long, though, because the more images he sees, the harder he finds it to breathe. Soon enough, he feels the familiar prick of tears and his bottom lip begins to tremble.

His eyes flicker to the mattress and suddenly all he sees is Jaehyun lying still in a hospital bed. 

Jungkook whimpers aloud while trying to stop the influx of emotions before they get the better of him, but it's useless, and he ends up on his knees just like yesterday. 

He pushes his forehead into the sheets as harsh, erratic sobs surge through his body. His hands clutch the comforter like a vice grip, anything to provide some sort of stability. 

“Please,” he gasps. “Please come back to me.” His chest is shaking so much the words are barely audible. “I don’t wanna do this without you, Jae. I can’t be somewhere you don’t exist.” 

It’s uncertain how long Jungkook weeps into his twin’s old blankets, but by the time his body relaxes, he’s got a headache, a sore throat, and his eyes are swollen. 

He’s in a weakened, almost trance when he returns to the first floor with the photo album. It lands on the kitchen table with a loud thump and causes both you and his mom to jump because you didn’t hear him enter. 

When you notice his current state, your eyes widen. 

“Jae?” You call while standing up. 

The sudden sensation of your hand on his shoulder grounds him to reality and he slowly blinks back to normal before meeting your concerned gaze. 

“I’m okay,” he quietly assures you as his hand rises to cradle your cheek. 

You automatically relax into his touch, letting your head rest against his palm. 

“Are you sure?”

A hint of a smile spreads across his lips. 

“As long as I have you,” he whispers so only you hear it. 

Afterwards, his head dips so he can place a light kiss on your forehead. 

The doorbell rings, surprising everyone and pulling all your attention to the entrance. 

“Who could that be?” His dad ponders from the couch. 

“Shit, that must be Jennie,” you answer. 

“Jennie?” Jungkook squeaks in shock. 

His odd reaction earns him a quick, questioning glance from you, but you thankfully don’t pry any further. 

“Yeah. I told her yesterday if she has any photos she wants to include she can bring them here.” You squeeze Jungkook’s bicep before heading for the door. “I’ll go greet her.”

Jungkook’s only thought is that you cannot let her into this house. Jennie, of all people, is the one person who always sees right through him. Not only that, but he won’t be able to keep it together. The guilt of knowing what he’s putting her through is far too expansive. 

Spurred on by anxiety, Jungkook follows you to the entrance, but slips into the foyer nearby so he can witness your conversation without being seen. 

Once the door opens, you smile and wave your arm to usher Jennie inside before giving her a long hug.

“How are you doing?” You ask her.

Jennie tries to send you a reassuring smile, but it looks more like a tight-lipped frown.

“Oh, you know,” she faintly chuckles. “I’ve been better.”

You grimace and reach out to hold her hand. 

“Can I help at all? I mean, with anything.” 

“No, no. I just have to… survive my own subconscious.”

“Well, do you wanna come in?”

“Oh, no,” she objects while offering you the shoebox tucked beneath her arm. “I just came to give you these. Please don’t feel obligated to use them. I won’t be offended.”

“Of course, we will, Jen.” You open it enough to peek inside and whatever photos are in there, they make you grin. “You’re Jungkook’s best friend. You deserve to be included.”

Jennie graciously nods.

“It’s just so strange, you know? One moment he’s here and the next…”

“Yeah,” you concur.

“And now I’m just playing back the last time I saw him over and over again and trying not to regret every little thing.”

“What do you have to regret?” 

“I don’t know, honestly. Probably nothing, right? But that doesn’t stop me from agonizing over it.” She sighs and sniffles while using her coat sleeve to wipe her eyes. “I just thought we’d have more time. I thought I would hear his voice again, or his laugh. See those huge fucking eyes of his go wide because he got excited.”

You both break out into a fit of giggles and Jungkook’s suddenly smiling from ear to ear. Not necessarily because of your conversation, but the vision of his girls looking so happy together. Even if it’s only fleeting.

“God, he was such an enigma. Wasn’t he? Like he owns a dive bar, exclusively wears all black, and drives a motorcycle, but also owns multiple pairs of Iron Man socks and has a pink toiletry bag.”

“Oh, don’t forget the adorable little keychains he used to hang from his backpack in college,” Jennie adds. 

The two of you laugh again before you gesture towards the interior of the house.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come in?”

Jennie thoughtfully nibbles on her lower lip for a moment, but inevitably shakes her head. 

“No, I, uh, I don’t think I can handle seeing Jaehyun right now,” she confesses. “Not because of anything to do with him, of course. I just have no idea how I’ll react to seeing someone who looks just like Jungkook.”

You nod understandably.

“No worries.”

She sends you a warm smile that you mirror before giving one another a goodbye hug. 

Jungkook’s beyond thankful she didn’t want to come in because watching from the shadows is one thing, but actually interacting with Jennie would’ve been next to impossible. 

He watches you wave until the door shuts and then makes himself known by stepping into the main hallway. You jump a little when you spot him and Jungkook tosses his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean to scare you. I was just curious to see how she’s doing for myself,” he explains. 

“Gosh, warn a woman first. Will you?”

Despite your retort, you’re smiling as he closes the gap between you. 

“I can help you go through photos, if you want,” he offers.

“No need, baby. I’ve got it handled. Besides, you need to help decide on everything.” 

Jungkook clicks his tongue and grimaces.

“Right. Except that’s kinda what I was trying to avoid.”

“I know,” you giggle. “You really think I don’t see through all your little tricks by now?” 

Well, there’s definitely one I know you can’t see through.

“I just…” He sighs. “Deciding on this stuff makes it real and I don’t want that. I don’t wanna pick out a casket because he shouldn’t be in a casket in the first place. He shouldn’t have a headstone or an obituary... all of this is just fucking wrong.” 

Clearly the anger stage of grief is beginning to set in because his hands clench into fists while he talks.

“It is.” Your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth as you debate on your next statement. “But if he were to need a casket or a headstone, he deserves the best ones. Doesn’t he?” 

Jungkook shakes his head with his eyes glued to the floor. 

“He deserves to be alive.”

After eliminating the space between your bodies, you cup his face with both hands and force him to meet your gaze. 

“You’re right. But if the universe won’t give him that, then this is the next best thing we can do for him,” you claim.

To this day it still shocks Jungkook every time you’re able to make everything feel okay again without even trying. Whether through words, touch, a smile, or merely your presence, you have a magical way of calming him down and allowing him to breathe freely.

“Yeah,” he whispers. 

“Yeah?”

Jungkook nods and paints a grin onto his face.

You two rejoin his parents in the kitchen and everyone gets to work on their respective tasks. When his dad finishes the obituary, he reads it out loud for a second opinion. Once that’s done, he helps Jungkook and his mom choose the most important details of the day. 

By the time the sun dips beneath the clouds, you’re all mentally drained and decide to call it a day. The funeral won’t be for another week, anyway, so there’s still time. Most of the issues yet to be tackled are what happens with the bar and Jungkook’s possessions, but thankfully, he’s here to help make those decisions himself. 

THIS STORY IS NOT OVER YET, PLEASE CLICK HERE TO CONTINUE READING (due to tumblr's 1k block limit)

“H–He’s gonna stay at our place?”

The logistics are a bit confusing to an outsider. The parents named their sons Chris-topher and Chris-tian, but no one ever calls them by their full names—they are both known as Chris in their respective circles, which seldom coincide anyway. And during the rare times they have to be in the same room, people discern the twins by shortening Christian into Chan. 

Because the older brother has asserted his dominance by being born one minute earlier, and claimed the exclusive rights to Chris.

“Yeah, but only for a few days until his apartment is repainted. It’ll be like I never left,” Chris launches his dimples at you. “I just didn’t want him to waste money on a hotel room, and he can keep you company until I return from my trip. Would that be okay?”

Goodie, WOULD IT?

It’s one of those “I swear it’s true, but I can’t prove it” things, which drives you fucking crazy. The younger one’s vibes are a bit… off, so to speak. He doesn’t smile; he just smirks. He doesn’t look; he eats you alive with his smoldering eyes, and it’s uncanny how it feels like he’s running his tongue all over your body when he just stares at you from across the room. 

And he stares at you a lot.

“Of course, baby. If that’s gonna put your mind at ease…” you reciprocate his sunset smile as if your chest isn’t actively tightening.

You don’t understand how these two men were wombmates raised by the very same family. It’s not like one was adopted, or the other was sent to a boarding school during his formative years. Same upbringing, same schools, same classrooms even, yet the blonde one is giving full Joe Goldberg whereas Christopher is literally the perfect guy you know. Kindest soul. An absolute gentleman. Rare species of a generous lover who makes you scream into the night.

Which is why you keep asking yourself, “What is life?” every time you cross paths with Chan at the Bang house on major holidays. 

To his credit, he’s not doing anything to warrant a formal complaint. At least not in front of people, so you spend half the time suspecting if things are happening for real or just in your head. It’s the way he looks at you that no one seems to notice. It’s the way he only ever talks to you when coincidentally no one is around you—running into you in the hallways, waiting to use the restroom after you, appearing in the kitchen when you’re picking up another bottle of wine to bring to the table.

And when he does…

“If I catch you looking at my lips one more time, I’m getting under that table and eating the shit out of your pussy. I’m warning you.”

Yet he whispers that lunacy so softly that your entire sense of reality distorts. He says it like he’s reciting a love poem about his soul-crushing longing for you, even punctuating it with a barely-there kiss on your ear. You hang onto that bottle of wine for dear life so as not to crash it into a million pieces and alert the household. They should stay blissfully unaware of the blasphemy taking place in the kitchen where the pleasant meal they are having was made with a lot of love.

And your mind has the hardest fucking time registering just how wrong this is because he looks exactly like the man you want to spend the rest of your life with!

Unfortunately for you, the confusion doesn’t stop at the Thanksgiving ambushes. He knows you like working during late a.m. hours, but he also knows damn well Chris might be sleeping right next to you.

Yet the texts he sends in the dead of the night…

Tian halfway through this gram of coke i remembered just how fucking beautiful you are and that im insanely in love with you

Of course you’ve thought about it. You’ve thought about talking to your boyfriend about his brother’s extremely inappropriate behavior that gives you extremely inappropriate butterflies, but seconds after your checkmarks go blue, the texts always disappear. No ‘Message deleted’ or anything; it’s like he’s never sent them in the first place. You’ve even tried screenshotting a few times as soon as you opened a text, just to prove to yourself that you’re not fucking hallucinating things, but all you’d get would be a black screen. 

HOW DOES HE EVEN DO THAT? 

What are you even going to say to Chris without solid evidence in your hands? Whatever you claim, Chan will just deny it, and you will look like the pick-me girl who thinks everyone in the room has the hots for her. 

Yet here you are, about to live under the same roof with the very man that makes you question everything you’ve ever known to be true.

At your boyfriend’s request!

“Welcome, Chr— I mean, Chan.”

“There’s only one of us here. You can call me Chris,” he faintly smirks as he enters through your front door. “That’s what everybody calls me anyway.”

“I think it would confuse me,” you politely smile at him, “so I’d rather stick to Chan if it’s okay.”

“You wouldn’t be confused if you just sat on my face,” he scoffs under his breath.

“What?”

“What?”

You’ve heard it. You’ve fucking heard it! Five seconds he’s been here, and it has already started. You might just have to walk around with a microphone to catch the shit he blurts out on tape, but you’re not even sure if the mic will actually record it. Fuck, he might just be a vampire of sorts, and maybe that’s why he cannot be captured on media in any shape or form!

You should definitely ask him to stand in front of a mirror just in case.

“What you said just now…” you point your finger at him with furrowed brows.

“I didn’t say anything,” he purses his lips, looking at you with slight concern as if to silently ask if you’re okay, then proceeds to carry his bag to the guest room. “Thank you for having me.”

And thus begins the unbearable heaviness of breathing the same air as Chan because it feels like you’re inhaling mercury.

You simply don’t know how to act around him. He looks so eerily identical to his brother that if he covers his hair under a beanie, you just cannot tell them apart. It really feels like you’re having dinner with Chris, and it makes you feel weirdly guilty. You should be able to discern your own boyfriend without leaning on a hair color. You share a bed with this man. You share a life with this man!

“Is there something on my face?” 

No, but you wish there were, and you wish it were something prominent. A freckle. A tattoo. Something. Maybe then you wouldn’t intensely stare at him while playing a spot-the-difference game all by yourself. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head as you chew on your last bite and reach for his empty plate. “If you’re finished with that…”

“I’ll help clear the table.”

All you do is stand next to each other while doing the dishes, and you just cannot figure out why you get this intense urge to touch yourself. Is it because he wears the same cologne as Chris? Is it because he wears the same chains as Chris? Is it because he dresses like his entire wardrobe is sponsored by Chrome Hearts?

Just… WHAT THE HELL IS IT?!

Thank fuck the phone rings before you could even think about doing something thoroughly and utterly stupid.

“Hey, baby! Just checking in,” Chris chirps on the phone. “How’s everything?”

“GREAT!” you uncontrollably scream into the receiver. “We just had dinner. How was the client meeting?” 

“Also great. Not to jinx it, but we’re sooo sealing the deal,” Chris brags, so much satisfaction dripping from his voice that you can practically see him grinning.

“Oh, we’re celebrating the shit out of it when you get back!” you congratulate him enthusiastically. “When are you coming home?” 

“In two days,” Chris responds, his voice suddenly coated with a different kind of contentment. “Did someone miss me?”

He wears that cheeky overcoat on his voice, but it still flares something in your loins. You head to your bedroom with fast steps and close the door, taking your clothes off lightning fast.

“I miss you a lot,” you put the call on speakerphone for full hand-ependence. “Like… miss you miss you.” 

“I miss you, too, angel,” he sighs longingly, his voice deliciously deeper. “God, I’d kill for a few licks from your pussy right now.”

THIS right there is fucking PROOF!

It doesn’t have anything to do with Chan. It never did in the first place because it’s just an optical illusion. If the man you’re in love with, the man whose children you want to have is projected right before your eyes, of course you’re going to react some type of way!

“And I’d kill to have you between my legs,” you sprawl on the bed more comfortably and start teasing your body. “God, it’s like you’ve been gone forever, baby. I need you bad.”

“Mm, how wet are you right now?”

“I’m soaking,” you breathily answer. “You’d slide right in.” 

“Oh fuck yeah, I would. Dip your fingers in there,” he starts listing his demands three. “Get your nipples wet for me, baby. Play with them.”

You close your eyes and do as he says, your fingers prodding your entrance to collect your slick. You slowly coat your nipples, lightly pinching them, imagining it’s Chris’ gentle bites.

“Are you touching yourself, too?” you ask.

“Uh huh…” 

“How hard are you, baby?” 

“Belly bulge-worthy. If I bent you over right now, no fucking way you’d be able to walk straight tomorrow,” he confesses through his heavy breathing. “But it doesn’t feel half as good as your pussy. God, how I wish you were on my lap right now.”

His voice carries a jillion kilowatts, but it’s so soothing. It really feels like he’s with you, whispering his unhinged desires into your ear in this bed that belongs to the two of you.

“What would you do to me?” 

“First, we make out. A lot,” he presses play on his imaginary sextape. “I kiss you deep, and you fucking drip all over me.”

“Mm, keep going,” you play with your breasts just like he wants. “Fuck, you should see this right now. My nipples are so hard, they are begging to be sucked on.” 

“Imagine me holding you. I kiss your neck first,” he speaks with a sultry smile tucked into his words. “The wet kind, just the way you like.”

And imagine, you do. You imagine his lips on your skin, covering you with his wetness. You imagine him being buried deep inside you. You imagine him making little love confessions in between his filthy words, making you giggle midfuck.

“Down to your collarbones… Then your tits… Kissing all over them first,” he lets out a big exhale. “Getting you so horny for me, you shudder when I take your nipples between my lips.”

“Fuck, Chris…”

It’s like you manifest him right next to you through sheer willpower. He paints you such vivid mental pictures that you actually shudder. You actually feel licked. It feels wet.

It feels… wet.

When you open your eyes, the blond demon stares at you like your government-assigned incubus, sucking on your nipples. You inadvertently gasp when you realize that wasn’t a figment of your imagination, and he immediately gestures shush, then keeps licking as if everything’s alright with the universe. And now you’re fucking losing it because it’s…

It’s technically Chris!

“This isn’t enough, baby,” he groans on the other end. “God, I need to fuck your face. I need to put your pussy in my mouth.”

Chan lets go of your breasts and slithers down, kissing his way down to your crotch. You hold your breath as you watch him wrap his arms around your thighs, and when he hits that first lick…

…you WHINE.

“Feels good, yeah? Getting your pretty cunt licked,” Chris speaks like he’s clenching his teeth. “Feel me slurping on that clit… Licking into your oozing hole… Let me fuck that tight little hole with my tongue…”

And that’s exactly what happens.

Chris declares his wishes, and they come true one by one. Chan slurps on your clit as quietly as possible, but you can still hear the wet sounds. He dips his tongue into your entrance, licking you like your arousal is his sole supply of water, then flattens his tongue and buries his face deeper into you. You cannot believe what you’re seeing. This just can’t be real. Nope, you fell asleep in front of the TV, and your confusions as of late are manifesting in your dreams as a porn clip under the “Cheating” category.

“Fuck I need you to ride my face,” Chris’ breathing turns labored on the phone. “Ride my face, baby. Use me. Get what you need from your man.”

Chan stops his relentless licking, extremely proud of how he covered half his face in your slick. He removes his shirt and climbs up right next to you, guiding you to get on your knees and straddle his face. It’s as if you have no willpower whatsoever. You blindly follow your lust, living Chris’ fantasies in live action despite the questionable means.

“Wish I could keep kissing you everywhere,” he sighs. “Hold you in my arms while drowning in your slick, but keep kissing you. Kiss your thighs. Kiss your chest. Kiss your neck…”

“Kiss my neck, Chris…” you moan, holding onto the headboard for dear life.

A shockwave passes through your body when the disconnection tone is followed by an actual kiss on your neck. When you turn around, Chris doesn’t give you a chance to question reality and takes your lips within his, kissing you deep, deep, deep…

But something feels… out of the ordinary. 

“You… kiss different,” you hazily speak when he pulls back.

“I do?” he smiles, pulling you off of Chan and closer to himself. “How so?”

“You never bite when you kiss,” you point out.

“Or,” Chan sneaks behind you, “that’s how he always kisses.”

He holds your chin and turns your face to himself, kissing you the deepest you’ve ever been kissed, and you’re entirely aghast. THIS is the pair of lips you are used to, but when you open your eyes, there is a severe mismatch between what you see and what you feel.

“Ch–Chris?” you hesitantly ask.

“You finally noticed,” he smiles.

“Wha—? Ho—? Y–Your hair…”

“Does it look good on me?” 

You turn and look at the dark-haired man. He looks like Chris, but feels entirely different. It’s as if your actual boyfriend is possessed by a certain demon because you can clearly see a drop of something sinister in those eyes.

“But… you were so convincing on the phone!” you protest.

“When are you going to get this?” Chan gently caresses your cheek. “We are one and the same.”

“Don’t think, baby,” Chris wraps his arms around your waist, quietly speaking into your ear. “Just let this happen.”

Chan moves closer and kisses you, but this time he doesn’t bite. He moves softer than the clouds, wetter than the ocean, and deeper than an abyss, exactly the way Chris normally moves. The intensity amplifies when your man starts composing an obscene love poem about his soul-crushing longing for you on your neck with his lips. Your entire sense of reality distorts. 

You can’t tell who is who or what anything is anymore.

“Tell me you love me, too,” Chan pleads, uncharacteristically sad eyes begging you. “For years I’ve been burning for you. Let me hear it just once.”

“Tell him, baby,” Chris encourages you, running his fingers through your hair. “He has suffered long enough.”

Suffered?

This has to be a dream, right? You look into Chan’s eyes, and one second traces of sinister are glowing neon crimson in there, and they are replaced with indescribable longing in the next. Then you look at your man, and his endlessly comforting eyes have the tiniest blotch of danger in them, something you’ve never ever seen before. When the confusion becomes too much, you say fuck it to everything. You don’t think.

You just let it happen.

“I love you, Chan,” you grant him his wish.

For the first time ever, he doesn’t smirk. He smiles at you so brightly that your chest sizzles. He dives in for another kiss as Chris lays you down, spreading your legs wide.

“Ready for your first taste?” he asks Chan, flashing the signature smirk bespoke to the younger one. He spreads your pussy for him, biting his lips hard at the sight. “Look at this. Sooo fucking wet, you could use it as sustenance for a week.”

Chan thickly gulps, his breathing suddenly stuttering. He slowly moves between your legs as if he’s scared, looking up at you with huge eyes like a puppy as if to ask ‘Can I please?’ The drastic change in demeanor gives you whiplash. It’s like they can swap their personalities on cue. And maybe the insanity has rubbed off on you along the way. 

Or maybe it was sexually transmitted all along, who knows?

“Have at it, fucking psycho,” you snicker.

He makes your chest sizzle again with that bright smile and traps your clit between his plush lips, happily munching away. Chris kisses all over your body, astral projecting just listening to your delightful sounds of pleasure. It makes him hungrier. It makes him greedier. He suddenly feels this intense urge to diminish you into a pile of whimpering mess, then snort the shit out of you to experience the highest high of his life.

“Go lower,” Chris urges Chan. “I want a taste, too.”

As Chan moves down to your entrance, Chris takes over clit duties, lovingly kissing and licking you. He puts one of your hands on Chan’s head and holds the other within his, tightly intertwining his fingers with yours like he wants to anchor you to himself. You look down, and it’s like you’re seeing double. The same voice that sounds like an echo. The same face that looks like a carbon copy. The same texture of skin under your fingertips. The heavy breathing. The relentless hunger. The wet sounds growing louder and louder and louder. 

The fire slowly smoldering within you is suddenly fueled by two tongues gliding on your most sensitive spots, turning it into a river of molten lava that demolishes everything standing in its path. 

“Oh, fuck, I’m— God, yes. Yes, just like that. Like that, oh my god I’m cumming!!!”

The finish line is located so high that it feels like a free fall from Everest. Your climax hits like a thousand car crashes, casualties everywhere like a doomsday cosplay, and you watch yourself get out of your own body. If there were a licensed medical practitioner around, they would pronounce you dead for at least about thirty seconds. 

The wetness reluctantly retreats when you start thrashing with overstimulation. You have ruined your sheets, and the two men seem to notice, judging by the extremely proud looks on their faces. Chan gets on his knees and gives his cock a few pumps, then carefully presses against your soaked entrance. 

“Fuck, I don’t think I’m gonna last,” he stupidly grins to himself, his eyes closed. 

You kinda hope that he doesn’t. It would give you some taunt material for everything he’s put you through over the years. As he slowly sinks in with deep breaths, Chris keeps softly kissing your clit, relishing the way you squirm.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, baby,” he kisses your wrist. “It’s going to feel really good in just a second.”

Your swollen walls swallow Chan whole, and his entire resolve goes out the window. He rams himself into you as hard as he can, incredulous how it can feel like you’re sucking his cock when he’s buried deep inside you. He knows he’s going to blow in maybe ten seconds if he keeps moving that fast, but he can’t help it. He can’t fucking help how incredible it feels inside you. He can’t help sinking his fingers deep into your flesh, moaning your name over and over again, surrendering his soul to you one clench at a time. 

But what’s interesting is that something about the way he fucks feels… 

…familiar. 

“Look at me.” 

He opens his eyes and looks at you when you grab onto his wrists, slowing way down to calm himself.

“This isn’t the first time we’re fucking, is it?” you ask with a lopsided grin. 

The brothers share a look that leaves no room for doubt that they are clearly busted. You expect a stern denial, but it never comes. 

If anything, you hear a direct confession instead. 

“N–No, but… fuck… but l–look how you’re stretching around my cock… See how it’s a perfect fit?” Chan pants. “We were made for each other.”

“We were made for each other. All of us,” Chris repeats, climbing right next to you, and lovingly looks into your eyes. “We love you, baby. Always have.”

“And always will,” Chan adds. 

Chris pulls you into a kiss as Chan runs faster to the finish line. You suddenly feel this huge wave of emotion wash over you. You don’t know what it is, but it sure as fuck isn’t just lust, and when Chan spills inside you with an “I love you” that rips from the depths of his throat, it cements what you’ve been suspecting all along but could never admit even to yourself.

Tonight, you find out you are indeed in love with two men.

“Tired, baby?” Chris plays with your hair, a fond smile on his face, while Chan catches his breath on your chest. 

“Overwhelmed,” you answer with your eyes closed, indeed tired but infinitely satisfied. “It’s… a lot to take in.” 

“It’s okay,” he kisses your forehead. “We always have tomorrow.”

“I just need a few minutes of shuteye,” you kiss his hand. “Then I’m sucking your soul out of you.” 

You let him bury his face in the crook of your neck and keep caressing Chan’s hair on your chest. A very pleasant fatigue envelops you as you listen to the soft breathing melting into heartbeats slowing down. You think about what Chan said to you earlier. You’ve always thought you know the man closest to you, mind and heart alike, but maybe you haven’t known him at all. Strangely enough, it doesn’t unsettle you. There are two bodies tangled up with you in this bed, but even though the suffixes may be different, they are one and the same.

They are just…

Chris.

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「© 2026, cb97percent · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

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"You're fucking kidding me." You stare at the text message. Three sentences that might as well be a bomb dropped in the middle of your living room.

Hey, sorry for the short notice, but I’m moving in with my boyfriend at the end of the week.

I know rent’s due soon, but I kinda already spent my half on the security deposit for our new place.

Good luck finding someone else!

shit

Rent is due in nine days, and your bank account isn’t exactly overflowing.

You’ve never lived alone before. Couldn’t afford it even if you wanted to. And the thought of scrambling to find a new roommate in a week makes your stomach twist.

You're halfway through drafting a frantic "roommate needed ASAP" text to your groupchat when your phone buzzes.

it's one of your few friends who actually bothers to check in.

Heard about your roomie bailing. Absolute bullshit.

Anyway I know a guy. Chill as hell, works freelance, needs a place.

You'd vibe.

You hesitate, thumb hovering over the keyboard. The last thing you want is some rando bringing chaos into your already crumbling life.

But then your landlord's terse "rent due on the 1st, no exceptions" text flashes in your mind.

Fine. Give him my number.

Chan texts you thirty minutes later. His messages are polite. Full sentences, proper punctuation, none of that monosyllabic grunting.

He suggests meeting at the apartment tomorrow afternoon to check the place out, and you agree.

The next day, you're scrubbing the bathroom sink when the doorbell rings. Chan stands in the hallway holding a paper bag that smells like garlic and herbs. "Figured we could talk over lunch," he says, smiling like this isn't weird at all.

Up close, he's so much cuter than you expected, blond hair, unfairly big broad shoulders, dressed in a blank tanktop that showed them off perfectly.

You blink at the take out bag, then at Chan’s easy grin.

There’s no nervous energy radiating off him, no awkward shuffling — just this unsettling calm, like he’s already decided he belongs here. “Uh,” you say, wiping your damp hands on your pants, “you didn’t have to—”

“I know,” he interrupts, already toeing off his sneakers without waiting for an invite. The scent of roasted garlic and rosemary spills into the apartment as he breezes past you toward the kitchen. “But food makes everything less weird, right?”

You trail after him, you don't know whether to be annoyed or charmed.

Chan unpacks the food containers, grilled chicken, some kind of herby rice, roasted vegetables that don’t look like the sad microwave steam bags you usually survive on.

He slides a plate toward you. “Eat first, then interrogation.”

“Interrogation?” You stab a piece of chicken, watching him warily.

Chan shrugs, mouth already full. “Standard roommate shit. ‘Do you snore?’ ‘Are you a serial killer?’ ‘Will you steal my leftovers?’” He swallows, grinning.

“The answer’s no, no, and only if you leave them unlabelled.”

The food is homemade stupidly good, and Chan’s presence is… unsettlingly comfortable.

By the time you’re scraping the last of the rice off your plate, you’ve learned he does something vague with digital marketing (“Basically, I convince people to buy shit they don’t need”), he actually enjoys doing laundry, and he likes to cook.

“So,” Chan says, stacking the empty containers, “you wanna show me around, or should I just start claiming drawers?”

The tour is quick — your apartment isn’t exactly sprawling — but Chan makes appreciative noises at the closet space and tests how sturdy the bed frame is (#whatdatmean).

When you hesitantly mention rent, he waves a hand. “Half’s fine. I’ll pay first and last upfront if you want.”

You stare. “You don’t even know the amount.”

Chan shrugs, leaning against the kitchen counter “Doesn’t matter. I’ve got it.” He pulls out his phone, taps a few times, and, before you can protest, your own phone buzzes with a notification.

It’s a Venmo payment for double what you were about to say rent costs.

Your mouth opens, then closes. “You—what? That’s too much.”

“Nah.” He pockets his phone, grinning at your baffled expression. “Consider it a ‘sorry for being weirdly pushy’. ”

You don’t argue. You can’t argue — not when your bank account is currently breathing its first sigh of relief in months.

A girls got priorities, and he doesn't really seem to mind. it's a win win scenario.

~

The first month was… strange. Not bad, just strange. he was genuinely nice, easy to talk to. it wasn't long till the initial awkwardness — if there was any — wore off. you'd become something sort of friends, and both of you settled into a quiet rhythm.

he'd left cash for rent in a neat stack on the kitchen counter on first of the month, slightly more than his half again.

When you tried to give him the extra back, he just waved you off.

You caught glimpses of his routine. disappearing into his room at odd hours, the low murmur of his voice through the walls late at night.

And then there was the day you came home early.

You weren’t supposed to be back until ten, but your shift ended early, and the bus was miraculously on time for once.

The apartment was quiet when you unlocked the door, just the hum of the fridge and the faint creak of the floorboards under your feet.

You’d barely set your bag down when you heard it — a low noise from Chan’s room.

Your fingers froze on the zipper of your jacket. The sound came again, breathier this time, followed by the slick, rhythmic sound of skin on skin.

you thought it was a girlfriend he never told you about.

The idea punched a weird, hollow ache into your ribs — which was stupid, because it’s not like you had any claim on him.

Still, you stood there frozen in the hallway, his door slightly ajar, listening to the sounds of his pleasure like some kind of creep.

You backed out of the apartment, easing the door shut with just the softest whisper of the latch catching. Your pulse hammered in your throat as you ducked into the stairwell, pressing your back against the cool concrete wall.

The rational part of your brain screamed at you to stop being weird, to just walk back in like a normal person. But the irrational part — the part currently in charge — was too busy replaying the sounds spilling from Chan’s room to listen.

You get out of the building and circle the block twice, three times, counting cracks in the sidewalk. The air smells like rain that hasn’t fallen yet, and you bask in that atmosphere till roughly an hour has passed.

When you finally drag yourself back inside, the apartment is quiet. Chan’s door is shut tight, the shower running, and no girlfriend in sight.

she must've left early.

You freeze halfway to your room when the shower shuts off. your feet are planted still go to your room, go to your room

but you weren't quick enough, and a few seconds later, Chan emerges with only a towel slung low on his hips.

He's startled when he sees you, droplets flicking off his hair as he jerks his head up. “oh hey—” His voice is casual before you cut him off, "shit—sorry!" your face heats up at the sight, your eyes wander, trailing down his toned chest that still had water droplets running down, before snapping your head in the other direction.

was he always this muscular?

and you can't help but notice that there are no hickeys on his neck, no marks on his arms, and surprisingly put together for someone who just had his girlfriend over less than an hour ago.

"no no— you're good." he reassures with a smile, "you're back early."

You swallow hard. “Yeah. Shift got cut."

Chan leans against the doorframe, his damp hair curling at the ends. You try not to stare at the way his towel clings precariously to his hips, but your gaze keeps flicking downward anyway, betraying you.

"Everything okay?" he asks, tilting his head slightly.

"Y-yeah," you stammer, fingers twisting in the hem of your jacket. "Just—uh. Busy day."

Chan hums, nodding. His eyes flick over your face, lingering a second too long on your flushed cheeks before he grins. "Cool. I was just gonna make some food if you’re hungry."

The casual offer throws you off. You were expecting — what? Awkward silence? Averted eyes? Not this easy warmth.

but you just nod dumbly. "Yeah. Food sounds good."

he pushes off the doorframe, padding toward the kitchen. The towel rides up slightly with each step, revealing the sharp cut of his hip bones, and you have to physically bite the inside of your cheek to keep from making a noise.

“You good?” he calls over his shoulder, like he can feel your stare burning into his back.

“Fine,” you squeak, following at a safe distance, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. The kitchen tile is cool under your socked feet, a welcome distraction from the heat crawling up your neck.

Chan hums again, rummaging through the fridge with one hand while the other keeps his towel secured. The muscles in his back flex as he leans forward, and you’re suddenly very interested in the color of your sponge bob socks.

“Leftover pasta okay?” he asks, pulling out a container with a rattle of plastic. You nod mutely, watching as he moves around the kitchen, his bare feet slapping against the tiles.

The stove clicks to life, the hiss of gas filling the silence between you. Chan leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, “So,” he starts, “how was work?”

You blink. “Uh. Fine. Boring.” The words tumble out too fast, your pulse jumping when Chan chuckles. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and suddenly you’re hyperaware of every inch of space between you.

he scrapes the leftover pasta into the pan, the sizzle of garlic and butter filling the silence between you. His towel shifts dangerously low with each stir, but he doesn’t seem to notice — or maybe he does.

The corner of his mouth twitches when he catches you staring, and you snap your gaze to the ceiling like it’s suddenly fascinating.

"You know," he says, voice light, "most roommates don’t freak out when they see each other half dressed." The wooden spoon clinks against the pan as he scrapes the edges.

"I wasn’t freaking out."

Chan laughs, "You literally yelped like I pulled a knife on you." He glances over his shoulder, eyes dragging down your body in a way that makes your knees weak. "Unless you’re into that."

The pasta sizzles loudly in the pan, drowning out the choked sound that escapes your throat at Chan’s words. "I—that’s not—"

Chan turns fully now, abandoning the stove, and the towel dips dangerously low. His smirk is infuriating, "Relax," he murmurs, stepping closer, "Just teasing."

You laugh nervously, the sound too high pitched, too obvious. "I'm just gonna—" You jerk your thumb toward your room, already backing away. "Change into something more... home-y."

Chan raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Home-y,"

"yea—!" your voice cracks "y'know comfortable....home clothes"

Then you gesture vaguely at his towel, your voice cracking slightly. "Are you— uh, gonna put on actual clothes before we eat? Because I'm pretty sure health code violations apply to apartments too."

Chan glances down at himself, then back up at you, "Why?" He grins, tilting his head. "Distracted?"

"Yes—no," you sputter, crossing your arms tightly over your chest like armor. "I just don’t want your—" You wave a hand wildly in the general direction of his hips. "That—near my dinner."

Chan laughs, a full blown laugh, and you take that chance to bolt for your room, shoulders hunched as if that’ll make you smaller, less noticeable.

The door clicks shut behind you with a click, and you press your forehead against the cool wood, exhaling sharply.

"And turn the heat down!" you call out, voice too high,"Unless you want to burn the house down!"

Another laugh, muffled through the door. "Yes, mom," Chan drawls, the playful lilt in his voice making your cheeks burn hotter.

The stove clicks as he adjusts the flame, the sound followed by the soft thud of his footsteps padding down the hall. You squeeze your eyes shut, listening to the creak of his bedroom door, the rustle of fabric as he presumably — finally — changes.

You peel yourself off the door, fingers fumbling at the jacket of your shirt. The fabric clings to your skin, damp with nervous sweat, and you wrestle it off.

Home-y. Right. who even says that?

Stupid stupid stupid.

Your dresser drawer sticks halfway open, You grab the first shirt your fingers brush against, soft from too many washes, and a pair of sweatpants with the elastic stretched out.

'He has a girlfriend,' you think, shimmying out of your jeans. The denim catches around your ankles, nearly causing you to trip.

'Probably. Maybe. Who the fuck knows.'

You yank the shirt over your head so hard the neckline stretches. The mirror across the room reflects your flushed face, your hair mussed from the fabric dragging through it.

You look and feel ridiculous.

You pull up your pants, then pause, fingers hovering at the waistband. Avoid him. Simple. Logical. You can do that.

but it wasn't that easy. after all there is only so much avoiding one could do to someone they live with.

The apartment isn’t big enough for elaborate evasion tactics, and Chan seems to have a sixth sense for popping up exactly where you don’t want him.

Leaning against the fridge when you’re raiding it at 2 am, or lounging on the couch just as you’re about to claim it for a late night tv binge.

So you just ended up being cooped in your room for most of the day.

But Chan isn’t stupid. eventually after days passed by, he’s leaning against your bedroom doorframe when you crack it open after what you thought was a safe half hour of silence.

“So,” he says, arms crossed, voice dripping with amusement, “you’re avoiding me.”

You freeze, one socked foot hovering mid step like a cartoon character caught mid sneak. “No,” you lie too quickly.

Chan raises an eyebrow. “You literally just ducked into the bathroom because you heard me coming down the hall.”

“I had to pee.”

“For the fourth time today?” His grin lopsided, “Either you’ve got a UTI, or you’re full of shit.”

You grit your teeth, fingers tightening around the doorknob. “Maybe both.”

he sighs out laugh, then steps closer, “Listen,” he murmurs, voice dropping to a serious tone, “if this is about the whole towel thing—”

“It’s not,” you answer quickly, too loud, too fast.

“So it is about the towel thing.”

“I’m not—” You exhale sharply through your nose, squeezing your eyes shut. “Can you just—” You gesture vaguely at the space between you. “Give me, like, a three foot radius?”

Chan tilts his head, considering. His gaze drags down your body, before settling back on your face. “Nah,” he says finally, “I like you flustered.”

You bite your lip, eyes darting around, then settle on his, before darting around again.

The silence stretches, until you finally crack under the weight of it. “you—don’t you have a girlfriend?” you blurt, the words stumbling out in a rushed, stuttering mess.

Chan blinks, his smirk faltering for half a second before dissolving into genuine confusion. “A what?” His laugh sounds startled, almost disbelieving.

You press your lips together, suddenly regretting every life choice that led you to this moment.

Chan's eyebrows climb toward his hairline, "A girlfriend?" He repeats, "What, like, some theoretical girl who sneaks in when you're not looking?"

You gesture vaguely at him — the tousled hair, the unfairly sculpted shoulders, the effortless charm that clings to him like a second skin.

"You just—seem like the type." The words tumble out half mumbled, your gaze darting anywhere but his face.

Chan’s laughter echoes through the hallway, loud enough that you flinch—not just from the sound, but from the way it makes your stomach flip.

"Oh my god," he wheezes, leaning against the doorframe like he needs the support. "You thought I had some secret girlfriend sneaking in here to—what, fuck me while you're at work?"

You cross your arms tightly, "It's not that ridiculous," you mutter, but even you hear how weak it sounds.

"First of all, if I had a girlfriend, you'd know. I'm not subtle." His smirk tilts into something teasing. "Second, I'm very single. And third—" He pauses, tilting his head. "Wait. Is that why you've been avoiding me? You thought I was getting laid in there and didn't invite you?"

Your face burns. "No—that's not—"

His grin softens slightly, but the teasing glint in his eyes doesn’t fade. "So," he murmurs, voice dropping lower, "what is it, then?"

You swallow hard, fingers gripping the edge of your shirt so tightly the fabric threatens to tear. "Nothing," you lie. "Just—roommate stuff. Boundaries."

Chan hums, "Boundaries," he echoes, Then, "You know you can just tell me if I’m doing something that makes you uncomfortable, right?"

You swallow hard, "Yeah," you mutter, gaze trailing to his eyes and holding his stare for the first time throughout this conversation "I know."

Chan pushes off the doorframe with a shrug, "Alright then," he says, clapping his hands together like he's wiping the whole conversation away. "Takeout time. You in?"

it's like all this man does is think about food...and make you weak in the knees.

You blink, "Uh. Yeah. Sure."

Chan pulls out his phone, already scrolling through delivery apps, "Thai? Or that new Italian place that opened down the street?" He glances up, eyebrows raised expectantly. "Unless you're feeling sushi again, but last time you complained about the wasbi being too strong."

The normalcy of it — the way he remembers your stupid, offhand complaints about condiments — makes something in your chest tighten.

You clear your throat. "Thai’s good."

~

The weirdness fades slowly, chan doesn’t mention the girlfriend comment again, and you stop bolting like a startled deer every time he walks into a room.

He starts leaving his door open when he’s working, the rhythmic tap of his keyboard drifting into the hallway. You catch yourself lingering in the doorway sometimes, watching the way his brow furrows when he’s concentrating, the way he bites his tongue when he’s stuck on something.

once, he catches you staring and pats the space beside him on the bed without looking up from his laptop. “Help me brainstorm this dumb tagline,”

You perch awkwardly at first, careful not to touch him, but Chan sprawls like he owns every inch of the mattress, his thigh pressing warm against yours. and before you know it, you’re leaning into him, pointing at the screen. “That one’s terrible,”

~

Movie nights become a thing.

The first movie night starts by accident — or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. You’re curled into the corner of the couch, knees tucked under your chin, scrolling through your phone while Chan sprawls across the other end, his laptop balanced precariously on his thighs.

Then the Wi-Fi cuts out.

Chan groans, tossing his head back against the cushions. “Fucking landlord,” he mutters, jabbing at his keyboard like it’ll magically fix the connection.

You snort, watching him glare at the screen like it’s personally offended him. “Guess we’re gonna have to talk to each other,”

“Horrifying,” he deadpans, then grabs the remote off the coffee table. “a movie it is.”

You end up with some terrible action movie Chan insists is a “classic,” but neither of you pay much attention. Halfway through, you catch him watching you instead of the screen, his head turning back to the movie when you caught him.

You brush it off, focusing on the screen, but your pulse jumps when Chan shifts closer, his thigh pressing against yours.

The credits roll, and he stretches. The couch creaks as he shifts, stretching his arms overhead with a groan that does things to your already frayed nerves.

"Well," he murmurs, voice rough around the edges, "that was a cinematic masterpiece."

You snort, grateful for the distraction. "Yeah, if you consider explosions and zero plot development masterful storytelling."

Chan’s chuckles “Plot is overrated,” he says, “Sometimes you just wanna watch things blow up.”

Chan then exhales heavily and stands. “Alright, I’m hitting the shower,” he says, stretching until his shirt rides up, revealing a sliver of toned stomach. You look away — too late — and Chan’s smirk is audible in his voice. “Try not to miss me too much.”

“In your dreams,” you mutter, but your pulse jumps when he pauses by the hallway, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says softly, almost to himself. “Exactly.”

You sit there, frozen, until the bathroom door clicks shut and the shower starts running. The sound of water hitting tile fills the apartment, and you press your palms to your overheated cheeks, exhaling sharply.

Stupid. You’re being stupid. That probably didn't mean anything.

But then your phone buzzes on the couch beside you, and Chan’s name lights up the screen.

forgot my towel. mind grabbing it?

You stare at the message, then at the hallway, Trap, your brain supplies helpfully.

type back,

Seriously?

he answers immediately

dead serious. i’m vulnerable here.

You groan, dragging a hand down your face, but you’re already standing. His towel hangs on the back of his bedroom door, You grab it, then walk out to the bathroom.

You knock once, then freeze when Chan calls out, “Just come in.”

Your throat goes dry. “Absolutely not.”

Chan’s laugh echoes off the tiles. “Relax, I’m decent.” A pause. “Mostly.”

you squeeze your eyes shut, then shove the towel through the gap in the door, arm outstretched as far as possible. “Here.”

Chan’s fingers brush yours as he takes the towel. His skin is warm, damp, and you jerk your hand back like you’ve been burned.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, voice closer than you expected. You can feel his smile through the door. “You’re a lifesaver.”

You bolt back to the living room, collapsing onto the couch with a groan.

too much for your first movie night.

~

just when things were getting normal, It happens again on a monday.

You’re home early again, the apartment is silent. You toe off your shoes, and you were about to shout a "I'm back" when you heard it again.

Low, breathy moans slipping through the crack in Chan’s door.

Your feet root to the floor, ears straining as the noise curls around you.

His voice, thick with pleasure, murmurs something you can’t quite catch — then a wet, rhythmic sound that sends heat flooding your cheeks.

apparently, this man takes his....alone time very seriously.

that's what it had to be right? you can't blame him — you've been there once or twice.

Your breath sticks in your throat, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. The sound— god, the sound — wraps around you, thick and heady, Chan's voice breaking on a moan that scrapes down your spine.

You should move. should bolt to your room, slam the door, drown it out with headphones. but your feet refuse to cooperate.

You tiptoe into the hallway, his door is cracked just enough, and your pulse hammers so loud its drowning out any other coherent thought in your brain.

A peak wouldn't hurt...

The door creaks faintly as it opens another inch, just enough for you to see.

Chan sits on the edge of his bed, but not like you thought. Not hidden, not private. No, this is something else entirely.

A ring light casts a glow over his bare skin, the camera propped on his desk angled perfectly to capture every inch of him. His laptop screen is open with a reflection of him and a rapid stream of comments too fast to read.

Oh.

Oh god.

Your stomach drops, then tightens all at once.

Chan’s head is tipped back, his throat working around a groan as his hand moves lazily between his thighs.

You press yourself against the hallway wall, pulse hammering, thoughts running a hundred miles per hour.

you did not expect this.

His breath hitches, a sharp, punched out sound, and your nails dig into your palms.

Chan’s fingers twist at the base of his cock, his thumb smearing precum in slow circles. The camera catches the way his abs flex as he arches into his own touch, his voice ragged when he murmurs, "Wish you were here." before he bites down on his lower lip. "Could use a mouth right now."

You watch, frozen in place, as his thighs tremble, his free hand fisting in the sheets beside him. The comments on his screen blur into a frenzy of emojis and a bunch of pinging donations. His breath stutters, his jaw clenching as his strokes turn erratic, desperate. “Yeah,” he gasps, voice breaking, “yeah, just like that—”

Then he comes with a choked moan, stripes of white painting his stomach as his back arches off the bed.

Gosh, he’s gorgeous — and you barely register the dampness between your own thighs until Chan slumps back against the pillows, chest heaving.

Chan exhales sharply, his fingers still lazily stroking his softening cock as he leans forward, just enough to tap something on his laptop.

he ends the stream with a wink and a low, raspy comment that you didn't quite catch. The screen goes black, and you barely have half a second to process the situation before your body kicks into motion.

You bolt down the hallway, socked feet silent against the hardwood.

Your bedroom door clicks shut behind you just as Chan gets up. You press your back against the door, lungs burning from holding your breath, and listen.

Water runs in the sink. A towel rustles. Then you hear footsteps.

They pause outside your door.

You purse your lips and hold your breath. Then Chan hums, before his footsteps retreat down the hall.

You slump against the door, exhaling shakily.

Holy shit.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you fumble to pull it out.

you home early?

You stare at the text, thumbs hovering over the screen. Lie, your brain screams. Tell him no. but then how would you fake going into the apartment if you're already inside the apartment?

Just got back

You hit send before you can second guess it.

Cool. Dinner soon?

Your fingers hover over the screen, the weight of his question pressing against your ribs like a stone. The air in your room feels — too thick — and suddenly the idea of sitting across from Chan at the kitchen table, pretending you didn’t just watch him get off on camera, makes your stomach twist.

Gonna shower first.

Your phone buzzes again before you can even set it down,

Can I join?

You nearly drop it, blood roaring in your ears. Then—

jk. don’t use up all the hot water.

You toss your phone onto your bed and drag a hand down your face with a sigh.

You're deeply fucked.

~

That night, you stayed up aggressively googling him till his page came up.

Onlychans? really?

you'd laugh at the username if it wasn't for the videos that popped up when you clicked on his profile.

Chan, shirtless, sprawled across what is unmistakably your living room couch, one hand lazily palming himself through his sweatpants.

Chan, biting his lip as he slicks lube down his cock, the camera angled to capture every twitch of his abs.

Chan, moaning, his head thrown back against the pillows of his bed —your apartment, your shared space — while his other hand works something thick and glistening into his—

You slam the laptop shut.

Your face burns. Your pulse thrums in your ears. The apartment is silent — Chan’s out for a run, or so he’d claimed when he’d left an hour ago.

You open the laptop again.

It’s Curiosity. That’s all.

It starts innocently enough — just checking his schedule, really. A quick glance at his calendar pinned to the fridge.

"For productivity purposes," Chan had joked when you asked.

Then, sure enough, it spiraled.

You memorize the time of his streams, monday nights, Friday nights, he'd timed them perfectly in sync with times he knew you wouldn't be home. that's why you've been blissfully unaware of him filming in different locations around your shared apartment for the past two and a half months.

And the occasional late night surprise session that leaves you fumbling for your earbuds at 1 am. You'd literally be home, but he'd go live anyway. was he into that?

you were into it too, admittedly, because you turned out to be just as shameful as him.

The notification pops up at 1:47 am on a Wednesday 'Chan is live!' (yes, you turned his notifs on) and your fingers freeze mid doom scroll through Instagram.

your room is dark except for the glow of your phone screen, you're supposed to be asleep.

You tap the notification.

Chan’s face fills the screen, his grin already in place as he adjusts the camera. He’s shirtless, propped against the headboard of his bed, one arm draped lazily over his bent knee. The ring light casts shadows along his abs, highlighting every dip and curve.

"Late night surprise," he murmurs, "*Miss me?*" aaaand heat is already pooling low in your stomach.

His fingers work on hinseld, slow and teasing at first, thumb smearing precum in lazy circles while he talks— god, he sure does talk, filthy praises and half formed fantasies spilling from his lips like he’s whispering them directly into your ear. You bite your lip to stifle a gasp, your other hand slipping under the waistband of your pajama shorts.

Chan arches his back on screen, his free hand gripping the sheets beside him. "Fuck, you guys are greedy tonight," he rasps, stroking himself slowly. His thumb presses against the head on every upstroke, just how you’ve learned he likes it — learned from watching, from nights spent with your phone hidden under your pillow, screen dimmed to its lowest setting.

"Fuck, m'close," Chan groans, your fingers moving between your thighs in time with his rhythm, matching the pace, hips shifting under the sheets, your breath coming shallow.

It’s not the first time you’ve watched him like this, but it’s the first time you’ve done it live, with the shaky thrill of knowing he has no idea you’re here.

A whimper almost escapes you when he swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, his breath hitching. You press your palm over your mouth, stifling the sound.

The last thing you need is him hearing you through the thin walls.

The thought alone, him catching you, realizing, sends a sharp jolt between your legs. You squeeze your thighs together, chasing the feeling before it slips away.

His hand speeds up, the wet sound of his skin moving over his cock muffled only slightly by the mic's noise suppression. "God, fuck—gonna come so hard for you," he grits out, his voice cracking on the last word.

You press your free hand harder against your mouth, fingers digging into your own cheek as you watch his stomach tense, the muscles there flexing under the sheen of sweat. Your own movements stutter when he lets out a low, punched out moan, his hips jerking up into his fist.

You’re so close you can’t think straight. The coil in your stomach winds tighter with every stroke of his hand, every filthy sound he makes, matching his rhythm like you’re desperate to prove something— like if you can just finish at the same time, it’ll mean something. Stupid. It’s stupid. But your hips jerk anyway, your breath coming in short, shaky bursts against your palm.

"Fuck, fuck—" His hand stills suddenly, fingers tightening around the base of his cock as he tips his head back, you watch as his body locks up for one second — and then he’s coming, stripes of white painting his stomach, his chest.

Your own climax crashes over you at the same time, so violently you nearly choke on the gasp you swallow down, your back arching off the bed as pleasure burns through you in hot, dizzying waves.

He’s still catching his breath, his free hand dragging lazily through the mess on his stomach, fingers tracing the lines of cum with a slow, absentminded swipe.

His lips curl into that stupid, effortless smirk you’ve seen a hundred times,

"Mmm, fuck," he murmurs, voice rough around the edges, still a little breathless. "You all got me good tonight."

He reaches for a towel off screen, the muscles in his arm flexing as he wipes himself clean. You watch, transfixed, as he tosses the towel aside and leans closer to the camera, cheeks are still flushed, his lashes low.

"Hope that was worth the wait," he says, eyes flickering to the chat before he grins. "gosh you guys are generous with the tips tonight." and you catch a few of the comments.

slave4u: how bout you come and give me that tip

sweetheartonline: gone broke just for you </3

Chan just chuckles, shaking his head. "Alright, alright, I’m done. You’re all insatiable." He stretches his arms above his head, his torso arching beautifully, "Next stream’s friday. Be good for me til then, yeah?"

With one last wink, he reaches forward, and the screen goes black.

You yank your earbuds out, Your chest heaves, your skin still buzzing, your thighs still sticky, and you press the heels of your palms against your closed eyelids until colors bloom behind them.

you find it ridiculous that you're actually enjoying this, perverted thoughts. Stupid. So stupid.

~

Two weeks pass after that. You're hyperaware of Chan’s presence in a way that makes your skin itch. Every casual touch sends sparks skittering up your spine.

You try to act normal, you really do.

But you catch yourself staring at his hands when he cooks, remembering the way they moved over himself on screen, and have to physically shake your head to clear the image.

Chan, for his part, seems to thrive on your discomfort. He leaves his bedroom door cracked just a little wider than necessary, and infuriatingly, he's rarely not shirtless.

it's okay. you're okay. at least you tell yourself that.

till it's Friday morning, marking the beginning of your third month.

the apartment is quiet, still bathed in the soft gold of early morning light filtering through the kitchen window. you hum under your breath as you flip pancakes.

then Chan emerges, shirtless, his sweatpants slung low on his hips, hair still messy from sleep.

He leans against the doorway, watching you with that lazy, knowing smirk. “Morning,” he rasps, voice still thick with sleep.

this feels too domestic for your liking.

“Morning,” you mumble, not turning around.

Chan pads closer, bare feet silent against the hardwood, until he’s right behind you. His warmth radiates against your back, “Smells good,” he murmurs, and you swear his lips brush the shell of your ear.

The spatula clatters against the pan. too domestic.

Chan chuckles, as he reaches around you to steal a piece of pancake from the prepared stack. His chest presses against your shoulder, his skin searing where it touches yours. “Careful,” he teases, popping the bite into his mouth. “You’ll burn them.”

The pancake batter sizzles violently as you stand there, frozen, Chan’s body heat scorching against your back.

His fingers brush your hip as he reaches for the syrup, and you nearly drop the spatula again.

"You’re jumpy this morning," Chan muses, leaning against the counter beside you. "Bad dreams?"

sure, if 'bad' and 'wet' are the same thing. "something like that."

Chan hums, tilting his head as he studies you. "Got plans today?"

You flip another pancake onto the growing stack. "Just groceries later." The words come out steadier than you feel.

His grin grows. "Mind if I tag along?"

You shrug, "It’s just errands."

Chan snags another pancake, leaning into your space until his bare shoulder presses against yours. "Exactly. Sounds thrilling." His fingers brush yours as he steals the spatula, flipping the last pancake with a flick of his wrist. "Come on. I’ll even push the cart."

You huff a laugh despite yourself. "You’ll get bored in five minutes."

"Bet?" He bumps your hip with his, "Loser buys ice cream."

~

The grocery store is exactly as mundane as you predicted, but Chan makes it unbearable in ways you didn’t anticipate — his fingers lingering when he passes you items, his chest pressing against your back in crowded aisles like it’s accidental. By the time you hit the freezer section, your nerves are frayed.

"Pick a flavor," Chan murmurs, chin hooked over your shoulder as he reaches past you to open the glass door. His breath ghosts across your cheek. "I’m feeling generous."

The freezer air hits your face, but it does nothing to cool the heat creeping up your neck. Chan’s arm brushes yours as he leans in, his fingers tracing the edge of a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream. "This one," he decides, plucking it from the shelf. "tastes like toothpaste sometimes, but eh" he said with a shrug.

You snort, grabbing a classic vanilla, but he plucks it from your hands and replaces it with something absurdly decadent, something with caramel swirls and chocolate chunks.

"Live a little," he grins, tossing it into the cart.

The checkout line is agony. Chan stands close enough that his knuckles keep brushing the small of your back, each touch sending sparks up your spine.

the cashier — an exhausted looking college student — scans everything, he pushed your hand aside when you tried to pay, and handed the cashier his card.

he caried all the groceries too, and swatted your hand away when you try to carry any.

it feels like he's your boyfriend.

The apartment door clicks shut behind you both, grocery bags rustling as Chan kicks off his shoes. You’re still fumbling with the laces of your sneakers when he brushes past you with the plastic bags.

You follow, already going to pull things out and putting them in their designated cupboards, Chan’s already rummaging through to find the ice cream, His grin is wide as he holds it up. "Scoops or straight from the tub?"

"freezer" you deadpan, "it's probably melted by now"

his shoulders slump a little, turning around to place the tubs in the freezer.

"and, scoops," you mutter, "We’re not animals."

he snickers, "Debatable."

Chan nudges the freezer door shut with his hip, the ice cream safely stowed away for later. "Movie night?" he suddenly asks, casual as anything, "Haven't done one in a while."

You nod, "Yeah. Okay."

You retreat to your room to change, fingers fumbling with the hem of your shirt before you even reach the door. The fabric sticks to your skin, too warm and you peel it off with a relieved sigh the second you’re alone.

The dresser drawer squeaks as you rummage for shorts and a tank top since its getting too hot, but your hands freeze mid reach when you hear Chan’s door creak open down the hall.

The unmistakable sound of fabric hitting the floor — jeans, probably — makes your throat go dry. You strain to listen, pulse hammering in your ears, as Chan hums under his breath. Something clatters, a belt buckle, and then the soft rustle of fresh clothes being pulled on.

You yank your own shorts up so fast you nearly trip, ears burning. Pathetic.

When you emerge, Chan’s already sprawled across the couch in loose joggers and that stupidly thin white tank top.

"You took forever," Chan drawls from the couch, already eating his way through a popcorn bucket.

"You're picking?" he scoffs, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. "After the garbage you called 'cinema' last time?"

You snatch the remote before he can lunge for it. "You picked Twilight unironically last time."

Chan clutches his chest like you've wounded him. "Bella Swan is a cultural icon."

You scoff, scrolling through the options, ignoring Chan's dramatic sigh as he flops back against the cushions. His knee bumps yours, but you don't pull away.

"Fine," he huffs. "But if it's another pretentious indie film where people whisper for two hours, I'm revoking your movie privileges."

"Fine," you grumble back, scrolling past a dozen of said pretentious indie films with moody black and white thumbnails. "But only because I pity your attention span."

Chan's grin is immediate as he stretches an arm along the back of the couch, fingers brushing your shoulder.

"pick something with action," then wiggles his eyebrows, "Or nudity."

You elbow him hard in the ribs.

"Ow—," Chan wheezes, but he's laughing, catching your wrist before you can retreat. His fingers are warm and rough against your pulse point, thumb pressing into the flutter there. "Violent and kinky," he muses, tugging you closer until your shoulders press together. "I like it."

You yank your wrist free and snatch up the remote again, scrolling through titles.

Chan's laughter vibrates through the couch cushions as you land on something, anything, just to shut him up. The movie starts with a car chase, tires screeching, glass shattering. Perfect. Loud enough to distract whenever Chan shifts beside you.

"Action and nudity," Chan murmurs, nodding approvingly at the screen where some actor's shirt rips open during a fight scene. "You do know me."

You sink lower into the couch, arms crossed. "Shut up and watch."

The first ten minutes of the movie blur into a haze of gunfire and badly timed one-liners, the volume turned up just loud enough to drown out the way Chan’s fingers keep tracing idle patterns against your shoulder.

You focus resolutely on the screen, but Chan’s warmth beside you is impossible to ignore. His knee presses into yours, his bare arm brushing against yours every time he reaches for more popcorn, and each touch sends a jolt of electricity down your spine.

Then, during a lull in the action, Chan shifts beside you, his hand sliding from your shoulder to the back of your neck. His fingers curl gently into your hair, thumb brushing the sensitive skin behind your ear.

"You’re not even watching," he mmurmur.

You swallow hard, refusing to look at him. "Am too."

Chan hums, unconvinced, his thumb stroking slow circles against your skin. "Liar."

His accusation hangs between you, thick and charged, and suddenly the movie feels like background noise.

His fingers tighten slightly in your hair, tipping your head back just enough that you have no choice but to meet his gaze.

His eyes are dark, there’s no teasing smirk now, no playful glint — just hunger.

Your breath hitches audibly.

Chan’s thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Tell me to stop."

You don’t.

His lips crash into yours before you can form a coherent thought, the remote clattering to the floor as your hands fist in his shirt.

Chan groans into your mouth, fingers tightening in your hair as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with so much desperation.

The movie drones on, but all you can feel is the way his hips jerk forward against yours as you press closer. His hands slide down to grip your waist, hauling you halfway into his lap without breaking the kissl.

"You’ve been driving me insane," Chan pants against your lips, one hand slipping under your shirt to trace the dip of your spine. "Watching me, pretending you weren’t—fuck—" His words dissolve into a groan when you grind down against him, the hard line of his cock pressing insistently against your thigh.

He knows you know. he has all this time. The realization makes your eyes widen slightly—but it doesn’t surprise you. Not really.

Not when Chan’s fingers tighten possessively around your hips, his teeth scraping your lower lip like he’s been waiting for this moment just as long as you have.

His palm slides up your ribcage, thumb brushing the underside of your breast through your thin tank top, and your breath stutters against his mouth.

Of course he knew. The cracked doors, the late night streams he timed too perfectly with your schedule. Those weren't just coincidences.

You pull back just enough to see his face, your eyes wide with the realization that just dawned on you.

his lips are swollen from your kisses, panting, “Surprise,” he rasps, voice wrecked.

Chan’s grip shifts, hauling you fully into his lap, and you gasp when his hardness presses against you. His chuckle vibrates through your chest as he rolls his hips up, slow and filthy. “Thought you’d never crack,” he murmurs, lips grazing your jaw.

Your hands fist in his tank top, the fabric damp with sweat where it clings to his chest. “You—asshole” you pant, hips jerking against his involuntarily. “All that teasing—”

Chan's grin widens "All what teasing?" he murmurs, pressing an open mouthed kisses to your neck. "You mean leaving my door open just a little too wide?"

His teeth scrape your skin, "Or maybe streaming at exactly the times I knew you'd be home?" His palm cups your breast through your shirt, thumb brushing over your nipple.

You gasp when he pinches lightly, hips jerking against his. "You're insane," you manage, though the words come out more breathless than angry.

Chan laughs against your throat, before his teeth sink into the tender skin just below your ear. Your nails dig into his shoulders as his hands slide down to grip your hips, guiding your movements as you grind against him. The friction is dizzying, the thin fabric of your shorts doing nothing to dull the heat of him pressed against you.

"Insane?" His breath is hot against your damp skin. "Baby, aren't the one who watched my streams every other night?" His fingers slip under the hem of your tank top, tracing the waistband of your shorts with maddening slowness.

You whine, the sound high and desperate in your throat, and nod before you can think better of it. The admission burns your cheeks, but the way Chan groans against your skin makes it worth it.

"yeah?" he rasps, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes.

Chan’s fingers flex against your waist, his breath hot against your lips. “Every fucking time,” he admits, voice rough “I’d pretend it was your hand on me,” His thumb presses into the dip of your hipbone, “Your mouth.” His gaze drops to your parted lips, then back up, heavy lidded. “You have no idea how many times I came thinking about you watching me.”

Chan exhales sharply, his nose brushing yours. “cancelled tonight’s stream,” he murmurs, lips grazing yours with every word. “would rather beg you to fuck me instead.” His palm slides up your ribcage, fingers tracing the edge of your bra through your tank top.

“You don’t have to beg,” you murmur, lips brushing his as you swing your leg off his lap. Chan exhales sharply, hands gripping your waist tighter like he’s afraid you’ll pull away entirely, but then you’re sliding to your knees between his legs, fingers hooking into the waistband of his joggers.

His breath catches when you tug them down just enough to free his cock, already hard and leaking against his stomach.

gosh he's even bigger than he looks on camera.

Chan's breath stutters when your fingers wrap around him, his hips jerking into your grip before he can stop himself. "Fuck—" His voice cracks, a hand flying to fist in your hair as you stroke him slow, watching the way his eyelids flutter.

He's hot and heavy in your palm, already slick at the tip, and the way his thighs tense when you swipe your thumb over the head is obscene.

Chan’s fingers tighten in your hair when your lips brush the head of his cock, his breath stuttering out in a ragged groan. “Fuck—fuck—” His hips jerk up instinctively, but you pull back just enough to tease, swirling your tongue over the tip without taking him deeper, and you can’t resist glancing up through your lashes to watch his face twist with pleasure.

“So loud,” you giggle, blowing a slow breath over the wetness you’ve left behind. Chan’s thighs tense under your palms. “All those streams,” you continue, stroking him lazily with one hand while the other traces the vein running along his length, “and you never moaned like this.”

Chan’s laugh comes out strained, his chest heaving. “it wasn't you,” he grits out, hips rolling up into your touch. His fingers tug at your hair, guiding you back to him with a quiet desperation that sends heat pooling low in your stomach. “Now stop teasing—”

You swallow him down before he can finish, humming around him just to feel the way his whole body jerks. His moan is filthy, unfiltered, his hips canting up into the wet heat of your mouth like he can’t help it.

You take him deeper, throat working around him, and Chan’s fingers tighten in your hair, not guiding, just holding on for dear life.

“god—” His voice cracks when you hollow your cheeks, tongue pressing flat against the underside of his cock. His other hand fists the couch cushion beside his thigh, knuckles going white. “So good—shit—you take me so fucking good—”

You pull off with a slick pop, lips brushing the flushed tip as you peer up at him, teasing, thumb swiping over the bead of precome gathered there.

Chan’s chest heaves, his abs flexing as he stares down at you, His grip in your hair tightens just enough to sting — a silent warning — but you just grin and duck back down, sucking him deep until his thighs tremble.

Chan curses, his hips lifting off the couch as you bob your head, the wet sounds obscenely loud even with the movie still playing forgotten in the background.

“Gonna—” He's cut off by his own gasp, “Gonna come if you keep—”

You pull off with a wet sound, lips slick and swollen, and replace your mouth with both hands, jerking him so fast his hips stutter off the couch, his breath coming in ragged, punched out gasps.

“Wait—fuck—” Chan chokes out, fingers scrambling at your shoulders, but it’s too late — his back arches off the cushions, muscles locking tight as he spills hot over your fingers and his own stomach.

His thighs shake under your palms, his cock twitching in your grip as you stroke him through it, slower now, milking every last drop until he’s whimpering and oversensitive, his hands weakly pushing at your wrists.

“Turn around,” Chan rasps, chest rising and falling rapidly. His fingers slide from your hair to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing your spit slick bottom lip. “Want you riding me.”

Your stomach flips at the command, but before you can move, Chan’s hands are gripping your waist, hauling you up onto the couch with surprising strength. He settles you over his lap in one smooth motion, your thighs bracketing his hips, and the sudden press of his bare skin against yours makes you gasp.

Chan groans, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as he leans back to look at you, really look at you, his gaze dragging down your body with a hunger that makes your skin prickle.

he hooks a thumb into the waistband of your shorts and tugs, sliding them off, his breath hitching when he finds you already soaked through your panties.

"Fuck," he exhales, dragging the damp fabric aside with one finger, his touch featherlight as he traces your slit. His other hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you down until your foreheads touch, his breath mingling with yours. "You're so wet," he murmurs, voice rough with disbelief. "Just from sucking me off?"

You nod, hips canting into his touch shamelessly, his finger circles your clit —once, twice, before dipping lower, sliding into you, crooking just right to make your back arch. His free hand fists in your tank top, dragging you closer until your chest presses against his, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide the way your nipples harden against him.

His thumb pressing firm circles against your clit, and your vision whites out for a second — just long enough to miss the way his free hand fists in your tank top, yanking it up until the fabric bunches just above your chest. His mouth replaces his fingers, teeth scraping over your nipple through the lace of your bra, and you gasp, hips stuttering against his hand.

“Thought about this,” he pants against your skin, his tongue lapping at the wet spot he’s left behind. “Every goddamn stream—imagined you like this, wet and desperate for me.” His finger curls again, dragging a broken moan from your throat, and his grin is all teeth when he leans back to watch you unravel. “Knew you’d be prettier than I imagined.”

You grab his wrist, stilling his movements, and his brows furrow — confused, frustrated — until you swing your leg over him, straddling his lap properly this time. His cock, half hard again, twitches against your thigh as you grind down, the friction drawing a ragged groan from both of you.

Chan’s hands fly to your hips, guiding your movements as you rock against him, his breath hot against your collarbone.

“Wanna feel you,” you murmur, fingers fumbling between you to grip him, slicking him up with your own arousal. Chan’s head falls back against the couch, his Adam’s apple bobbing as you line him up, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

You sink down onto him with a choked gasp, thighs trembling as he stretches you open inch by agonizing inch. Chan’s hands clamp around your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, but he doesn’t rush you —just watches as you take him deeper.

"Fuck," you whimper, nails scraping his shoulders when he bottoms out, your body shuddering at the unfamiliar stretch. "You’re—god—you’re so big—"

Chan groans, hips twitching beneath you, fighting not to thrust up. "Yeah?" His voice is wrecked, breath hitching as you clench around him. "Feel good, baby? Stuffed full of me?" His fingers trail up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts while you adjust. "taking me so good."

You roll your hips experimentally, and Chan’s head thuds back against the couch, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. "That’s it," he rasps, hands sliding to grip your ass. "Use me—ride me just like you imagined."

The words send heat flaring up your neck, but you can’t deny them, can’t stop the way your body responds, hips rolling in slow circles. Chan hisses between his teeth when you clench around him, his fingers flexing against your skin.

"Christ—fuck—you’re so tight," he grits out, eyes locked on where you’re joined. "Bet you thought about this every night, hmm? Watching me stroke my cock on cam while you fucked yourself on your fingers?"

You whimper, thighs quivering as you lift yourself halfway up before sinking back down, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. his breath stutters, his hips jerking up to meet you halfway, and the sudden shift punches a ragged moan from your throat. "Oh fuck—Chan—"

"Say it," he demands, thumb brushing your clit as you bounce in his lap. His voice is rough, wrecked, his pupils blown wide, "Tell me how much you thought about this, how many times you came imagining me inside you."

You gasp when he pinches your clit lightly, your rhythm faltering, "Every—ah—every night," you admit, nails digging into his shoulders as you grind down harder. "Watched you—touched myself—god, wanted you—"

Chan groans, fingers tightening on your hips as he guides your movements, thrusting up to meet you. "Knew it," he pants, lips brushing yours with every ragged breath.

"Knew you were getting off to me—fuck—your little gasps when I’d look at the camera—" His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing your nipples through your bra. "Bet you came so pretty for me, huh? All quiet so I wouldn’t hear?"

You nod frantically, hips stuttering as his cock hits that spot inside you, the pleasure building dangerously fast. "Y-yes—*fuck*—Chan, please—"

"Please what?" he murmurs, lips curling into a smirk even as his own breathing falters. He slows your movements deliberately, dragging you through each excruciatingly slow roll of your hips. "Need me to fuck you harder, baby?"

You whine, fingers tangling in his hair as you try to chase your own rhythm, but his grip on your hips is unrelenting. "Yes—god, yes—"

he flips you onto your stomach before you can finish begging, his hands rough and sure as he shoves your knees apart against the couch cushions. The fabric burns against your bare thighs when he yanks your hips back, his cock sliding out of you with a slick sound that makes your face burn.

You barely have time to whimper before his fingers dig into your waist, lifting you on all fours with a sharp tug — his chest presses hot against your back, his breath ragged in your ear as he lines himself up again.

he doesn’t give you a second to adjust. He slams into you with one brutal thrust, punching the air from your lungs as your elbows buckle against the cushions. His cock stretches you open deeper than before, the angle hitting deeper, and you choke on a scream when his hips snap forward again, setting a punishing pace before you can catch your breath.

Hands clamp around your hips, fingers bruising as he drags you back onto him with every thrust. The couch creaks beneath you, the sound drowned out by chan’s ragged groans and the slick slap of skin on skin. His rhythm is merciless, no teasing now, just pure, desperate need as he fucks into you like he’s been starving for it.

Chan's grip on your hips shifts — one hand sliding up to fist in your hair, yanking your head back until your spine bows beautifully beneath him. "Fuck, look at you," he growls, his voice rough with something between awe and hunger as he takes in the sight of you spread out beneath him.

His fingers tighten, pulling just enough to make your scalp prickle, before his palm cracks down against your ass, the sound echoing through the room louder than the forgotten movie still playing in the background.

You gasp, thighs trembling as the heat blooms across your skin, but Chan doesn’t give you a second to recover. His hips snap forward, driving into you with a force that has your nails scrabbling against the couch cushions for purchase. "Take it," he orders, voice wrecked, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "God, you feel so good—clenching around me like—" His words dissolve into a groan as he picks up the pace, each thrust punching a ragged sound from your throat.

His free hand slides around your waist, pressing firm circles against your clit, and the dual sensation has your vision blurring at the edges. "That’s it," he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear as his rhythm falters for just a second, "Gonna make you come just like this—spread out, taking me so well—"

His thumb presses harder against your clit, and your back arches involuntarily, a broken moan tearing from your lips as the pleasure crests suddenly, violently.

Chan curses, his grip tightening as you clench around him, your body shuddering through the waves of it. "Yeah, there you go, gonna cum for me?"

You nod vigorously, your fingers twisting into the couch cushions as Chan’s thrusts turn erratic, his breath ragged against your ear. "Cum with me," he rasps, and it’s all you need.

Your body clenches around him like a vice, pleasure crashing over you in waves so intense your vision whites out for a second. Chan groans, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you with a broken gasp, his forehead dropping between your shoulder blades.

Chan pulls out slowly, hissing through his teeth when you clench around him reflexively, oversensitive.

The couch cushions are damp beneath your trembling thighs, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat as you collapse onto your stomach, chest heaving. Chan exhales sharply, running a hand down your spine, before flipping you onto your back, more gently this time.

The shift makes you wince, your body still thrumming with aftershocks, he slides off the couch onto his knees between your legs. His palms skate up your inner thighs, spreading them apart with slowly despite your weak protest. "Shh," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. "Just wanna taste you."

You squirm when his breath ghosts over your sensitive skin, but Chan’s grip tightens, holding you open. "Chan—" His name comes out hoarse, your voice wrecked. "I’m—ah—too sensitive—"

Chan’s fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding you open despite your squirming. His tongue flicks over your clit, just enough to make your hips jerk, oversensitive and trembling.

“You can take it,” he murmurs against your skin, “You’re a big girl, yeah?” His teeth graze your inner thigh, before his mouth closes over you again, and your back arches off the couch with a choked gasp.

You can take it. You do.

Every swipe of his tongue sends sparks shooting up your spine, your fingers twisting into his hair — not to pull him away, but to keep him right there, his mouth working you through the dizzying aftershocks of your orgasm.

Chan hums against you, the vibration making your toes curl, and his grip on your thighs tightens when you try to press them together instinctively. “None of that,” he chides, nipping at your skin before dragging his tongue up your slit again, “Just let me have you.”

You whine, hips caving into his mouth despite the oversensitivity, the pleasure tipping into something almost painful, but you don’t tell him to stop. Couldn’t if you wanted to.

"so sweet," he groans against you, the words vibrating through your oversensitive nerves. His fingers dig into your hips, pinning you down when you try to squirm away from the intensity. "No— stay still."

You whimper, but obey, letting him spread you wider as his tongue delves deeper, circling your entrance before dragging back up in one long, torturous lick.

"Chan—please—" you gasp, but you’re not even sure what you’re begging for — him to stop or never, ever stop.

His response is to hook your leg over his shoulder, angling you deeper into his mouth, and then he’s sucking you in, his tongue working you with precision. You sob his name, your hips jerking uncontrollably as the pressure builds again, too soon, too much—

You choke out his name, fingers scrambbling at his shoulders, a desperate attempt to ground yourself, before your hips jerk violently against his mouth.

“Chan, gonna—oh god—” The warning spills out brokenly, your thighs clamp around his head as you come with a shuddering gasp, your back bowing off the couch as pleasure rips through you.

he groans against you, the vibration wringing another broken sound from your throat, he doesn’t pull away, just laps at you greedily, his tongue dragging through the mess you’ve made of him with slow strokes.

“Fuck,” he rasps against your skin before pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “You’re perfect like this.” His thumb brushes your clit once, testing, and you jerk with a gasp, your body still thrumming with aftershocks.

Chan grins up at you, all dark eyes and swollen lips, before dragging his tongue up your slit one last time.

Chan rises from between your thighs with a groan, his lips slick and glistening with you, you realize with a jolt — before his mouth crashes into yours, the kiss filthy and possessive, his tongue licking into your mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair, sticky with sweat, and he moans into your mouth when you tug — sharp, just to feel him shudder.

You pull away eventually, both of you panting, sticky with sweat and other things, and collapse onto the couch in a tangle of limbs. Chan drags you half on top of him, your head resting against his chest where you can hear his heartbeat still racing beneath his skin.

His fingers trace idle patterns along your back, the movie’s credits roll, forgotten, casting flickering shadows across the ceiling.

You nuzzle into his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat slowing down, the rise and fall of his breath beneath your cheek. His skin is warm and slightly sticky, and you press a kiss to it without thinking, smiling when his fingers pause for a second before resuming their path along your spine.

"Quit staring," you murmur, tilting your head up just enough to catch him watching you with an expression that makes your stomach flip. soft, almost awed, Chan huffs a laugh, his thumb brushing your hipbone where he’d gripped hard enough to leave marks earlier.

"Can’t help it," he admits, voice rough with exhaustion "You’re kinda fucking gorgeous like this."

You snort, but your cheeks heat anyway, and Chan’s grin widens when he notices. He shifts beneath you, rolling just enough to tuck you more firmly against his side, his arm a solid weight across your waist.

The movement makes you wince, your thighs ache in a way that’s equal parts delicious and punishing, and Chan’s fingers tighten reflexively, his smirk turning smug.

"Sorry," he lies, and you bite on his shoulder just to hear him yelp.

his yelp dissolves into laughter, his fingers digging into your sides as he squirms away from your teeth. “Fuck, ow,” he complains, but his grin ruins the effect, “You bite hard—should’ve known you’d be a menace.”

You grin against his shoulder, pressing another kiss to the reddening mark you left behind. “Payback,” you murmur, tracing the outline with your tongue just to feel him shiver. Chan groans, his hips jerking reflexively beneath you, and you freeze when you feel him stirring against your thigh—already half hard again.

“Seriously?” you ask, incredulous, and Chan has the audacity to look proud, his smirk widening as he rolls his hips up against you.

“What?” he teases, voice dripping with false innocence. “Can’t help it—you’re right there, all warm and fucked out—” His hand slides down your back, fingers skimming the curve of your ass before squeezing lightly. “And you bit me. That’s basically foreplay.”

You press a hand to Chan’s chest when he tries to roll you beneath him again, your thighs still trembling from the last round. “Shower,” you mumble, and Chan makes a wounded noise against your collarbone in protest.

“Five more minutes,” he tries, lips trailing up your neck like he’s trying to convince you with his mouth.

You laugh, breathless, and squirm out of his grip before he can distract you properly. “No—shower,” you insist, swatting at his hands when they try to drag you back. “We’re disgusting.”

Chan pouts — actually pouts, like this big hunk of a man didn't just fuck the daylights out of you — and flops back against the couch with a dramatic sigh. “Fine,” he grumbles, but his eyes track your every movement as you stand, snickering when you wobble slightly on unsteady legs.

You stumble towards the bathroom, then you glance back at Chan, sprawled across the couch with his arms behind his head, watching you with that stupid, smug grin, and ask, "When’s your next stream again?"

his grin falters into confusion when your question registers. "Monday," he says automatically, his brows furrowing, "Why?"

You hum, "Just thinking," then you shrug, "maybe I’ll join you next time."

he's caught off guard when you leave him hanging and close the bathroom door behind you, "don't start something you can't finish!"

The next time you see him, it’s approaching midnight. He’s seated on the couch, phone in hand. You walk around the kitchen, opening various cabinets in search of a snack.

“You’re still up?” you ask.

“Yeah. I’m creating a list of content we can make. I’ll share it with—” he stops when he finally looks up.

Your pajama set consists of a grey cropped tank and matching ribbed shorts with slits at either thigh.

It was a deliberate choice. Chan admitting he’s not immune to you means he’s susceptible to temptation. And that made this predicament exciting for you.

But in your defense this set is really comfortable. You have six other pairs because you like them so much. And you had a feeling Chan might, too.

His gaze lingers for another moment before snapping to your face, a sheepish smile pulling at his lips.

“You picked an interesting outfit to wear immediately after asking me if we’re going to be celibate throughout this.”

“Should I sleep in a straightjacket instead, roomie?”

“Do whatever makes you comfortable, y/n,” he smiles a little too sweetly.

“I will.” You grab a bag of veggie chips and take a seat on the opposite end of the couch. “No junk food made it on your grocery list?”

He looks pointedly at the bag in your hand.

“Veggie chips don’t really count as junk.”

He lifts his phone, waving it in his hand, “I’ll make a shared list for that too, then.”

“You’re too organized for your own good.” You roll your eyes, turning on the TV to set up your various streaming services.

The next few days are a learning curve as you navigate living together and acclimate to each other’s routines. It takes Chan exactly four days to realize you’re impossible to talk to before coffee. You quickly pick up on his neurotic neatness—like the mug handles all pointing in the exact same direction. One afternoon, out of pure curiosity, you turn a single mug backward before leaving. By the time you come home, it has mysteriously found its way back. Chan never mentions it. Neither do you.

He doesn’t comment on your pajamas again, either. But when the shared grocery list updates a few days later, one new item has been added: straightjacket.

London Fashion Week is the last big public appearance you and Chan have before the industry quiets down for a few months. The thought provided you with a glimmer of relief, but it didn’t last long. Preparing for your wedding is the next area of focus Lucia has been texting about.

It still feels far enough away that you don’t need to start hyperventilating about it just yet, but the more you stood and posed for pictures with Chan, the harder it was to shake.

“Engaged, huh?” Seungmin asks, the moment he is within earshot—not letting a second go by before bringing it up.

Your eyes flick toward Chan, currently doing a round of solo interviews with Korean based magazines. You’d much rather be off to the side instead of standing there nodding as if you have a clue what’s being said.

“Yep,” you say, showing the ring on your finger.

Seungmin studies you, not the ring.

“And you two have been seeing each other behind everyone’s back for a year?”

You knew the boys would have more questions. Seungmin in particular since you’re closest with him. He’s heard the way you talk about men and dating enough to know the math isn’t mathing.

“Have you seen Felix or Hyunjin?” you ask.

His eyes narrow.

“Felix is somewhere around here with Zendaya, probably,” he replies. “Hyunjin is in tomorrow. When’s the wedding?”

You don’t attempt to deflect again.

“In three months.”

“You pregnant or something?”

Your eyes fly around the room, making sure no one is close enough to hear.

His jaw goes slack, eyes widening.

“No—no!” You whisper harshly, bringing him back from that thought. “I’m not—” your eyes dart around again, “that. Look, it’s been a lot since the announcement. I could just use a normal night with my best friend right now.”

He studies you a moment longer before relenting.

“Okay. You hungry?”

“Starving, actually,” you say.

“Yeah, eating for two I bet.”

You slap his arm, mad that you walked right into that one. But it truly is the most normal, Seungmin-like thing he could have done in the moment, and you find yourself grinning.

He laughs. “Okay, okay. I’m done. We’ll grab dinner after.”

The remainder of the evening passes without a hitch. You slip back beside Chan, your hand naturally finding his whenever another photographer calls your names. By the time the last show wraps, your cheeks ache from smiling.

You exit the venue with Chan, Seungmin and Felix. The latter of which is trying to convince everyone to go to a Mediterranean restaurant.

“We’re in London, Felix.” You scrunch up your face. “That calls for a pub with fish and chips and draft beers.”

“There’s a pub near my hotel,” Seungmin suggests.

“I’d prefer something light tonight,” Chan adds his two cents.

Had this conversation been happening a month ago, there wouldn’t be a second thought to splitting up for the night with the possibility of meeting up later.

But now you’re engaged.

You had yet to discuss this aspect of the agreement. Surely you’re still permitted to hang out with your friends, whether they’re male or female, right?

“We can just go with them,” Seungmin says. “If you two are inseparable now.”

“No,” you say too quickly, glaring at him. “Seungmin and I will go to the pub. You guys go enjoy your Caprese salads or whatever.”

“Okay,” Chan responds easily. “I’ll see you back at the room, yeah?”

You nod.

Chan hesitates for a second before adding. “Don’t stay out too late.”

His tone leaves you unsure if that was meant to be a cute comment for the sake of being in public and needing to keep up pretenses or if he’s insinuating you have a curfew.

You plaster on a smile, “Don’t wait up.”

You take Seungmin by the arm and steer him toward the waiting taxis before anyone can change their minds.

You have your first round of drinks with dinner. That eventually turns into a second round while you insist you can beat Seungmin at darts (you don’t). By closing time, continuing the conversation at Seungmin’s suite with more beer is more enticing than saying goodnight.

You kick your shoes off the moment you step inside and immediately make yourself comfortable on the couch.

For the first time in a week your phone stays forgotten on the table. You’re not thinking about engagement notifications and you’re not pretending.

It’s just you and Seungmin.

“So . . . ” he says eventually.

You groan.

“No.”

“You knew I wasn’t going to let this go.”

“I did.”

“What happened?”

You stare into your drink. “I can’t tell you.”

His expression softens.

“Can’t?”

You nod.

“Not won’t?”

You shake your head.

He leans back in his seat, letting the silence sit.

Then he raises his glass.

“To whatever disaster you’ve gotten yourself into, then.”

You clink yours against his.

“Cheers.”

The swig of beer takes the uncomfortable moment away with it and you know Seungmin won’t ask about it again. And you love him for that.

You glance at your phone for the first time—it’s 2:17am.

“Shit,” you mutter.

He checks his too, yawning. “Want me to call you a cab?”

You consider the offer, looking toward the window.

You still aren’t ready to go back. This is the first night you’ve felt like yourself in two weeks.  

“Or you can stay here,” he suggests as he stands.

“You sure?”

He’s already walking into the bedroom.

“Yeah. Besides,” he speaks loudly so you can still hear him, “I don’t trust you to not get lost.”

“You have so little faith in me.”

“I have exactly the right amount, y/n.”

You laugh.

He returns and tosses you a blanket.

“You get the couch. Goodnight.”

“The couch? You’re the reason they say chivalry is dead, Kim Seungmin,” you call to his retreating back.

He laughs heartily. You can still hear it even after he’s closed the door to his room.

You pull the blanket over yourself, sinking farther into the couch. After setting an alarm for the morning, you toss your phone onto the coffee table.

Sleep comes almost immediately.

Your alarm wakes you at 9:00am.

You sit up on the couch and take a moment to orient yourself. You need to make it back to your hotel, shower and get ready in two hours and right now you feel like doing zero of those things.

You stand with a sigh and hurry to gather your belongings. Halfway to the door, you catch your reflection in the hallway mirror, and your PR training kicks in.

You’re still wearing last night’s outfit.

You can’t leave a hotel where you aren’t staying with your fiancé looking exactly as you did the night before. Add messy hair to the mix and it’s the kind of photo that weird guy from TMZ gets off to. You can imagine the headline now—UNFAITHFUL FENDI: Y/N’S CHEATING WALK OF SHAME.

Couldn’t be further from the truth, but they’d have a field day with it.

You turn around and knock on Seungmin’s door.

“I hope you have clothes on,” you say, turning the handle. “I’m coming in.”

He lifts his head slightly, body covered with the comforter, one eye cracked open.

“I need to borrow some of your clothes.”

He lazily waves you on.

You rummage through his suitcase and change in the bathroom. When you reemerge he lifts his head from the pillow again.  

He huffs a laugh at your appearance.

“Where you off to already, Adam Sandler?”

You glance down at the outfit you pulled together. Baggy sweats, a zip-up hoodie that’s two sizes too large, combined with a hat and sunglasses.

Fuck.

This is Adam Sandler chic.

And you need to borrow a pair of his slides, too.

“We’re attending two of the shows today, so we have to get there early,” you tell him. “I’ll return it all before I leave. Go back to sleep.”

You walk with your head down and don’t risk lifting it until the taxi takes off.

It’s 10:00am when you make it back to the room. Knowing your routine, that’s ample time to be 80% ready, you’ll just have to do your makeup in the car. You’ve become shockingly good at applying it in a moving vehicle since entering this industry.

You don’t see Chan as you pass the living room and enter your private room. You take a shower, allowing yourself a few more minutes than you really have. After, with your robe on, you dart back out to the living room to make a cup of coffee.  

You nearly stumble, seeing Chan on the couch.

He’s already primed for the red carpet. You can’t see much of his outfit, but it’s all black. It’s not much of a surprise that yours is, too, since they love having you match.

“I need coffee and twenty minutes.”

You grab a mug, ruffling the towel beneath it in a rush, and place it under the spout. You rifle through the bowl of flavors, knocking some over the edge before settling on caramel. At the last second, you swap out the mug for a to-go cup then finally start the machine.

You head back towards your room, but Chan stops you just as you reach your door.

“Why didn’t you come back last night?” he asks.

You glance over your shoulder, “I was tired.”

A beat passes.

“You could have text.”

The suggestion doesn’t land well.

It sounds so simple. So reasonable.

Yet somehow it feels much bigger than that.

“I didn’t know I was required to check in with you.”

You enter your room and close the door behind you.

You make quick work of your hair with dry shampoo and change into your outfit for the day. You grab your large black Fendi bag and toss your smaller makeup bag inside of it before exiting the room.

Chan is standing in front of the counter, pouring your preferred creamer flavor into the to-go cup. He’s also put everything back in its place. He pops a lid on it before turning around and offering it to you.

You get to fully appreciate his outfit for the first time—a long, knee-length overcoat paired with wide-legged black slacks. The icing on the cake is the sheer, black, floral button-up shirt, providing yet another teasing glimpse at his torso.

Perhaps he should be wearing straightjackets to these events. That’d make it easier to keep your thoughts in check.

You take the cup and mumble a thanks.

You’d been ready to tell him that cleaning up after you all the time isn’t necessary, but him prepping your coffee with his pecs on display has momentarily thrown you off.

Once in the car, you take a long sip of coffee before setting it down and pulling out your makeup bag. You pass the mirror to Chan.

“Can you hold this?”

He takes it without question and holds it in front of you.

You apply a light layer of foundation, then concealer before blending blush across your cheeks, grateful to have something else to focus on besides the silence hanging between you.

Next is eyeshadow, eyeliner, then mascara.

Still, neither of you say anything.

Only when you’re nearly done with your other eye does he finally speak.

“Did anyone see you going into his hotel or coming out of it?”

“I don’t think so,” you answer.

He lowers the mirror. Your gaze lifts to his face.

“y/n, we have to be mindful of how things like this look.”

“I know that, Chan. That’s why I changed before leaving.”

You grab his hand with the mirror and raise it again.

“Leaving in his clothes isn’t really a good look either.”

“It seemed the lesser of two evils at the time,” you retort. “What else could I have done?”

“Came back at a decent hour.”

You freeze, mascara brush hovering in front of your lashes.

“Nights staying out late or crashing with a friend after drinking aren’t unusual for me,” you tell him. “I don’t think that has to change because of this. I’d like to still have some autonomy.”

“I’m not trying to set a curfew for you. I’m just asking for you to consider how all of your actions impact us now.”

You don’t particularly like his emphasis on the word us.

You finish applying the mascara before taking the mirror from him and toss it in your bag.

“You could have both come back to our hotel and drank until you passed out and this wouldn’t have been an issue,” he continues.

“Wouldn’t it?”

He shakes his head.

“You would’ve been fine with me bringing Seungmin back to our suite?”

“Yes.”

“At midnight?”

“Yes.”

“And if we stayed up talking until sunrise?”

“Yes. The only problem is that you were nowhere to be found and we have somewhere to be for our jobs.”

Us. We. Our.

You sigh.

“So what’s the rule then?”

“Rule?”

“Do I have to clear my plans with you? Share my location?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It sure sounded like it,” you snip as the car rolls to a stop. “Look—you don’t need to keep tabs on me. I had an alarm set so that I could make it back in time. I’m an adult.”

The car door opens and Chan steps out first. He holds his hand out for you and gently guides you from the vehicle.

“We’re not just responsible for ourselves anymore, though,” he says quietly, holding your gaze. “That’s all I’m asking you to remember.”

You press your lips together and say nothing in response.

The conversation has to end there—cameras are already on you.

By the time you’re standing shoulder to shoulder on the red carpet, neither of you has said another word. It isn’t until you join Felix and Hyunjin that you both speak. It’s another rinse and repeat conversation about how well you two hid your relationship. You let Chan take the lead and answer Hyunjin’s questions, though. He seems to accept it as truth almost as easily as Felix did.

The four of you sit together, watching as Seungmin walks the runway in a tailored, charcoal look, giving away nothing of the late night and drinks you shared.

After the show ends, the topic shifts as usual to plans for the evening.

“We’re thinking drinks later,” Felix says.

“You two coming?” Hyunjin asks.

“We’ll head back to the hotel first,” Chan answers before you can. “We might meet up with you later.

You glance at him.

He doesn’t look your way.

It takes nearly everything in you not to retract his statement. But how would it look if you seemed to be fleeing your fiancés company two days in a row?

Back at the hotel, you enter the room first and take your shoes off. Chan closes the door behind you and quietly lines both of your shoes neatly beside his own.

You clench your jaw.

He’s always anticipating your needs. Always taking care of things before you can.

Including this.

“I can be responsible for my own shoes, Chan,” you huff. “Or do you think I’m incapable of that too?”

He furrows his brow, taking off his overcoat and hanging it in the hall closet before entering the living room.

“I don’t think you’re incapable of anything, y/n,” he says, taking a seat on the couch. There’s an earnestness to his tone that implores you to let your guard down, but you ignore it. “Except, maybe, communication.”

Your eyes narrow.

“If we have a work engagement, would a text kill you?” he asks.

“It might,” you mumble. “If I leave a coffee mug on the counter for five minutes, is it going to kill you?”

“No. But it bothers me. I don’t see it as cleaning up after you. I’m just doing it, and I don’t mind.”

You purse your lips, eyes locked on his.

“So no matter what I do, you’ll clean it up?”

You take off your jacket and toss it on the couch next to him.

His eyes flick to it, but he doesn’t answer.

“And why did we tell them we had to come back to the hotel first?”

You take off your bracelets and leave them on the coffee table.

“Really?” he asks, brow quirked.

You remove your earrings and place them next to the coffee maker before walking back to stand in front of him.

“You want to hear me say I’ll text you before I’m allowed out again? Is that it?”

You bring your hands together behind your neck, feeling for the clasp of your necklace.

He suddenly reaches out for your waist and pulls you closer.

You gasp at the unexpected movement, heart beating rapidly as you look down at him.

“Either you enjoy testing my patience,” he muses, “or you genuinely take everything I say as an attack.”

While both of those things may be true, you don’t enjoy him reading you so accurately.

You slide one knee up onto the couch, then the other so you’re straddling him, causing your dress to ride up your thighs.  

“Which would you prefer?” you ask softly.

He takes a moment too long to answer.

You remove your hands from your neck and let the necklace fall into his lap with a soft thud. His eyes drop to it. You hook a finger under his chin and lift his head back up.

A flicker of irritation flashes across his eyes. But instead of answering, he cups the back of your neck and pulls your mouth to his.

A sigh escapes you as your lips meet. You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your body against him. His hand snakes into your hair as your hips begin to rock against his.

You want to stay in this moment, but even as a relief to the tension spreads through you, you can’t help but wonder how long it will last this time before he pulls away. Because, unfortunately for you, he’d probably be content to just kiss you to death if you don’t push further.

You slip a hand between you, cupping his cock as you gently tug his bottom lip with your teeth. You squeeze his, feeling him harden in your palm.

He groans, pressing his lips back to yours and claiming your tongue.

You keep your hand between you, rubbing him through his slacks. It’s also serving as a solid surface to press your clit against.

You moan, reaching for his other hand to bring it to your chest, wanting him to touch you, to feel you. You place his hand over your tit, guiding him to knead it.

And you immediately regret it.

He pulls away, leaning his head against the couch, but he doesn’t remove his hand.

“Tell me it would be deeper than just casual sex, y/n.”

You smack your lips before you can stop yourself.

“Why does it need to be?” you murmur, undoing the first button of his shirt as you continue rocking your hips against him.

“Casual sex is literally just using someone for their body,” he says. “To satisfy yourself.”

“Mutual satisfaction is often the goal, actually . . . ” you undo the next button.

“So you just wanna use me?”

“Respectfully.”

He grabs your hands and removes them from his shirt.

“Use me, then.”

He lifts you at your hips, adjusting you so you’re straddling his right thigh.

“What?”

He uses his hands on your hips to move them forward and backwards, getting the message across quite clearly.

“Use me.”

You bite your lower lip as his hands fall from your waist, stopping the movement.

This is not how you thought you’d reach a compromise on this.

But a sudden numbness spreads across your body at the loss of stimulation against your clit. You rock your hips tentatively to bring it back.

It feels good. And the way he’s looking at you—as if imagining what more he could be doing to you . . . if only you’d concede to a stupid fucking date—takes you to another level.

His hand moves toward your thighs, and your heart nearly skips a beat, getting your hopes up. Instead of touching you, he pushes your dress up higher.

“Move your underwear,” he says.

You lift up slightly and pull them aside before sitting back down on his thigh. You grind against him again. The direct friction of his slacks against your clit sends a jolt through your body, making your breath hitch.

You grind harder, your fingers digging into the thin lace of his shirt as you tilt your head back, eyes fluttering shut. His hands remain rooted on the couch and you want to plead for him to touch you, but you don’t want to make him come to his senses again. You moan, moving your hips faster, emboldened by this act that somehow feels filthy and liberating simultaneously.

Chan’s voice cuts through the haze of pleasure, rough and restrained.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “You’re soaking wet, y/n.”

You can’t deny it. The sound of your arousal is obscene, a wet slicking noise every time you rock against him. His thigh is solid beneath you, the muscles flexing as you ride him, and you can feel the heat of him even through the fabric.

“Chan,” you whimper, lifting your head to look at him.

“You like that?” he asks, voice low.

You nod, eyes locked on his for a moment before he cups the back of your neck and brings your mouth to his again.

You all but melt into him. Your hands caress him frantically, wanting to touch any and every part of him while he lets you do this.

You hadn’t realized how bad you needed this until now.

How will he expect you to contain yourself after this sample?

A sharp gasp tears from your throat at the thought of actually fucking him, while you grind your pussy on his leg. You can see it so clearly. You can almost feel it. His cock sinking into you, his hands and mouth on every inch of your body.

“Yes,” he hisses against your lips. “Fuck my leg until you cum.”

You reach down to pull your underwear even more out of the way, grinding your clit against him with reckless abandon as your orgasm reaches its tipping point.

“Unggh, Chan,” you pant, breaking the kiss. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna—oh fuck.”

You arch your back, expletives flying from your mouth, hips circling with fervor as you cum on his Fendi slacks.

It’s a good thing they give you these outfits to keep.

Even as your body shakes, he still doesn’t touch you. You latch your lips back onto his as your orgasm subsides, moaning softly into his mouth with each jerk of your hips.

When they finally stop moving on their own, he gently tangles his hand in your hair and lifts your head, forcing you to look at him.

“Feel better?” he tilts his head.

You nod sheepishly.

“Good,” he kisses you once, twice, three times. “Now you won’t get mad at me if I pick up all the shit you dropped?”

You snort, trying to hold in your laugh as you look down at the necklace that’s fallen to his side.

“I can pick it up myself,” you mumble.

“I don’t mind.” He says softly.

He kisses you once more, deeper this time, and once again you can’t stop the sigh that passes through your lips.

You have no way of knowing it yet, but this is the man that’s going to teach you that you can unapologetically be yourself—emotional wounds, brattiness and all—and he’s not going to run from it.

The biggest obstacle will be allowing yourself to accept it . . . and opening up to him.

a/n: phew. took a minute to get here, thank you for sticking with me! i hope their dynamics (y/n not wanting to lose herself in a relationship, and chan wanting very much to be everything his partner needs) are clearer now and this first smut scene feels earned. i've not written brat taming extensively but am excited to dive deeper into it.

taglist: @crazyfangirl2020 / @elizalabs3 / @bunbunbl0gs / @unemployedcarat / @geni-627 / @magpir8629 / @firelordtsuki / @tsunderelino / @divineslautr / @anastarsia-00 / @divineslautr / @kaylovesskz / @compersian / @rayraymylove / @mirrorballbb / @lixiestaylovesstraykids / @wolfiesroom / @letstrippp / @victoriaaf / @skyearby

You grab both phones since you’re closer and pass Chan his.

“Have you decided on Los Angeles or New York for your residence?” she asks, as if you’ve had ample time to consider your impending shared living arrangement and not just twenty-four hours.

“We haven’t talked about it yet,” you say, glancing at Chan.

“L.A. would make it easier to see my family.”

A pang of something you aren’t ready to deal with stabs at your chest.

His decision is based on family.

You were prepared to base your decision solely on weather.

“I’m good with that.”

“Perfect.” Lucia says. “We’ll send over a few options and schedule the engagement shoot there, too. Keep your phones close.”

She starts to close the door, then stops to add:

“And don’t forget to interact with some of the posts. Likes, comments—you know the drill.”

It isn’t until you and Chan verbally confirm you will that she closes the door.

You exhale heavily as the car takes off to the hotel, feeling absolutely drained from the evening. If it weren’t for this, you would have been on your way to the after-after party. But you can no longer attend such events on a whim by yourself without it being seen as trouble in paradise.

The shackles are already firmly in place.

And as your phone continues to ping with notification after notification, that fact really starts to sink in.

You’d much rather not acknowledge any of this right now, but you don’t have a choice. Maintaining this façade is now part of your job. So, you open Instagram and a video of you and Chan on Elle Magazine’s account is the first thing that greets you. The caption overhead reads: LOVE & FASHION IN THE AIR.

“You two left quite an impression on the runway. What was that moment?” the interviewer asks.

“I’d like to see anyone do better after turning around and seeing Chan in that outfit,” you answer with a small chuckle. “I was a little caught off guard, in the best way, and it doesn’t help that I had a lot on my mind . . . ”

You watch yourself step into Chan, pressing your side against him, and place your left-hand square on his chest.

You can still remember the rapid beating of his heart beneath your touch. How heat radiated from the spot on your waist where his hand rested.

She audibly gasps. “When did that happen? Unless I missed something, I didn’t even know you two were dating.”

“We worked hard to keep it between us until we were sure,” Chan answers. “The engagement was recent . . . I’m very lucky she said yes.”

You glance up at him.

He looks down at you and presses a quick kiss to your forehead.

It baffles you how natural it all comes off.

“When is the wedding?”

“All will be announced soon,” you smile coyly.

“Well, we look forward to hearing it. Congratulations,” the interviewer says. “Mind if we get another look at the ring?”

You pause the video there—you don’t need to see that part.

The damned thing is still on your finger.

You open the comments, wondering if the good or bad ones are having their turn at the top of the algorithm.

It turns out to be a mixture of everything.

OMG I'M SCREAMING 😭😭😭

Congratulations to her but I am currently in mourning

That forehead kiss was everything. Chan is so sweet. y/n is so lucky

THE RING?? HELLO??

Need somebody to explain this timeline to me

Their babies will be perfection

The way she smiles when he talks about her 🥰

Chan I'm free tomorrow if this doesn't work out

Y/N. GIRL. YOU WON.

If only they knew.

You double tap on the video out of pure obligation.

“It looks like you’ve got some backup options if this doesn’t work out,” you muse, setting your phone down, already over it.

Chan snorts, putting his phone down too.

You turn slightly to face him. This is the first time you’ve been alone since leaving the storage closet. The first time either of you have had a moment to think about all that’s coming next.

“Are we—”

“I know we—”

You both begin at the same time before pausing.

“You first,” you tell him.

“I know we have different reasons for not wanting this, but I think we should look at it as a business deal . . . a partnership with each other, if you will.”

Oh.

That’s not what you expected.

You wanted to ask how many rooms the apartment should have and call dibs on the master bedroom.

“There’s a lot of very real legal shit hanging over our heads and if we focus on that, we’ll be miserable,” he continues. “I don’t want that. We were friends before this and I’d like to say the same when this is over, yeah?”

You nod slowly, letting that sink in for a moment. The sentiment is certainly nice to hear after all that was said in his hotel room yesterday.

You probably wouldn’t have addressed it at all.

Chan clearly doesn’t have a problem expressing himself, though. And you can tell by the way he’s looking at you, he expects you to do the same.

“What are we telling our friends?” you ask instead.

He takes a beat before responding. “They get the same story as everyone else.”

“They wouldn’t tell anyone . . . ”

“I know, but we can’t risk them talking about it and someone overhearing. It’s easier to keep the narrative intact with fewer people knowing the truth.”

You can get away with lying to Seungmin via text, but you aren’t sure it will hold up in person.

“Okay,” you agree. “If they have follow up questions, I’m telling them to call you.”

Your phone vibrates again. Then again. And again.

Another article and a new round of commentary.  

“It’s a good thing, y/n,” Chan reminds you. “We keep them talking, we keep Fendi happy, and Lucia stays off our back.”

Thousands of strangers discussing your personal life, even if contrived, doesn’t feel like a good thing. In terms of your current predicament, though, he’s right.

Keeping Lucia at bay is probably the only thing you have any control over right now. You can at least use that as some sort of motivation.

Between traveling, packing, choosing a new apartment, and fielding texts about the engagement, you’ve hardly had a moment to just breathe in days. Everything feels like it’s moving at warp speed and you’re just being pulled along on the ride.

Seungmin already called bullshit on the whole ordeal. You promised you’d explain more in person to buy yourself some time, but you have no idea what you can tell your best friend to make him believe this.

Your mother, on the other hand, is just dying to know when she’ll meet her future son-in-law. It doesn’t shock you that she asks nothing at all about him. Her main concern is how this will elevate your platform and, in turn, her social status amongst the other moms in the neighborhood.

That’s all any of your accomplishments have ever meant to her.

By the time you arrive at the high-rise residential building in Los Angeles that will be your home for the duration of the contract, you’re running on fumes.

You head to the 25th floor and stop at the front door, hands poised in front of the keypad as dread fills the pit of your stomach.

When Lucia sent a list of fully furnished rental options, you didn’t think you and Chan would ever come to an agreement on one. He wanted a place with ample kitchen space—you’re a DoorDash kind of girl and didn’t care too much about it. You wanted something in the city, he was okay living on the outskirts of town.

It was your first test of compromise as a fake couple.

Picking the place was easy. Actually being here? Not so much.

This is where you will live with Chan.

You’ve lived with roommates before.

Never a fiancé.

This is a new kind of domestic cohabitation.

“You just gonna stand there or you comin’ in?”

You jump at the sound of Chan’s disembodied voice disrupting your thoughts. Your eyes dart to the Ring camera on the side of the door.

He’s already connected to it?

You squint at the camera.

He laughs. “Shoes off, yeah?”

 “Acting like you own the place already?”

You unlock the door and step inside, taking your shoes off as requested, before walking through the short hall and into the open living space. The afternoon light streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows. To your right is a couch, coffee table, and TV. And to your left, the kitchen.

Which is where Chan is.

“What are you doing?” you ask, bewildered.

He has all the cabinets open and every plate, cup, pot, pan on the island.  

He glances over his shoulder. “Putting away the dishes.”

“Weren’t they already in the cabinet?”

“Yeah . . . but not the right ones,” he explains, resuming his task.

You inwardly flinch. Your mother is the only other person you’ve known to believe that some cabinets might be more correct than others. Everything has a place, she had always said. She ran a strict program, and you do not want the next few years to feel like you’re living with her.

You walk to the refrigerator. “I can order some food—"

You open it to find it fully stocked.

“You bought groceries already?” you close it and lean against the island.

“My bad. I knew your flight was coming in later than mine,” he says, putting a stack of plates in a cabinet near the stove. “Your boxes came. I put them in your room.”

“You didn’t unpack them for me?” you tease, brow quirked.

“Nah, that’s all you. But I will make dinner.”

You know it’s not his intention, but within the first few minutes of being here, it feels like you’re moving into his home.

You leave him to his organizing and walk back down the hall, entering the master bedroom on the right.  All of your boxes are lined along the wall—a box cutter resting atop one of the stacks.

Of course he'd left one for you.

You slice through the tape on the nearest box and begin unpacking. Every so often you hear movement from the kitchen—cabinets closing, running water, the beeping of appliances.

By the time you’re halfway through the stacks, the smell of garlic and butter wafts into your room. Your stomach immediately growls.

To hell with unpacking. The boxes aren’t going anywhere.

You return to the kitchen. The island is now free of clutter and Chan is pan searing two steaks.

“Almost done,” he says. “Have a seat and I’ll bring it over.”

You opt for the seat facing the window and a few minutes later Chan is setting a plate down in front of you. The steak has already been sliced, with asparagus laid beside it.

The setting sun spilling through the windows is the kind of thing that would be romantic for a couple sharing their first night in their new apartment.

But the conversation over dinner is the opposite of that. It’s mundane and mechanical. You talk about household chores, preferred thermostat temperatures, your schedules, upcoming public appearances, and the type of content you can create for engagement.

On that note, he pushes his empty plate away and asks, “Where’s your ring?”

“In my room,” you answer. “We aren’t in public . . . ”

“Can you go grab it for a sec? We should probably take a picture.”

Your notifications had just started to quiet down.

You push away from the table reluctantly and go to your room. You find your purse and fish it out from the side pocket amidst bobby pins and gum wrappers. You slip the ring on as you return to the living room—stopping in the kitchen when you see Chan at the sink already rinsing your plates and putting them into the dishwasher.

He turns off the water and dries his hands before taking out his phone and walking to the window, motioning for you to join him. He takes your left hand in his, bringing you to his side. The gesture is smooth and feels natural, but that doesn’t stop a wave of heat from rolling through you at the contact.

He raises your hand, pointing the camera at it with the L.A. night sky as a backdrop. He then brings you to stand in front of him, hand still outstretched with the ring on your finger angled at the camera.

“Is my face in this?”

“Yeah, it’ll be out of focus, though.”

You both slip with ease into your professional personas. He snaps away, moving the camera around for higher and lower angles as you pose.

He airdrops you the photos when your mini photoshoot is over.

“We should probably talk about expectations and boundaries too,” he says.

“Like what?”

“Like how to make sure we’re both comfortable in public. Some level of PDA will be required.”

“You say that like you haven’t already shoved your tongue down my throat, Chan.”

“That was one time,” he flushes. “In private.”

You’ve been so caught up in packing for the move and lying to anyone who asked you about the engagement that you hadn’t thought about that aspect of shared living.

Okay, that’s not true.

You definitely thought about it a few times.

But what’s tripping you up is the way he said one time.

As if it won’t happen again.

“Will there be more of that in private?” you ask.

The question throws him. His flush deepens.

You weren’t sure if Bashful Bang had disappeared forever, but there he is.

You take a step closer as your preferred kind of tension fills the space between you.

“You do know what husbands and wives do, don’t you?” You take another step, wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders before pushing up onto your tiptoes. “Or are you expecting us to remain celibate this entire time?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“You.”

You lay your feet flat on the ground.

“If we have sex, it can’t just be casual for me.”

Well fuck.

Casual is exactly what you were hoping for. It has rules and doesn’t require anything more of you.

“Isn’t that smarter since we know it won’t last?” you ask, stroking the nape of his neck.

He places his hands on your hips, holding you firmly.

“Wouldn’t it be better if it meant something either way?”

You shrug.

He pulls you to him, pressing your body flush against him. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Believe me, I know it would feel good, too,” he begins softly. “And I’m not immune to you, y/n. But if we start adding sex to this, it could get messy without some level of mutual respect and trust holding it together.”

“Is this a hard line for you?”

He doesn’t answer.

His hands remain on your hips, thumbs absentmindedly brushing against the fabric of your shirt.

You’re not sure if he’s thinking or reconsidering.

Either way, he’s taking too long.

You rise up onto your tiptoes again, letting your lips brush against the corner of his jaw.

“You said kissing was okay before, right?” you murmur against his skin.

A quiet laugh escapes him.

“I did.”

Emboldened, you trail another kiss just below his ear.

His grip tightens ever so slightly.

“Let me take you on a date," he whispers.

You pull away from him, eyes locking with his.

For you, if you start adding that to the mix is when it would get messy.

It appears you’ve reached your second test of compromise.

And this one won’t be as easy to get through.

[ forever x fendi photobook ]

[ read chapter five here ]

a/n: he wants it, she wants it, WE want it...ugh. sorry this is so short! we're going to push chans buttons and see seungmin in london for their fashion week next chapter. more coming soon :)

how are ya'll feeling with the world tour announcement? i'm so excited. i saved money this time around 😂

taglist: @crazyfangirl2020 / @stephanieeyang / @tsunderelino / @elizalabs3 / @bunbunbl0gs / @unemployedcarat / @geni-627 / @magpir8629 / @firelordtsuki / @angrygardendeer / @anastarsia-00 / @divineslautr / @kaylovesskz / @compersian / @rayraymylove / @mirrorballbb / @lixiestaylovestraykids / @wolfiesroom

The bass thuds, the lights flash, the club is smokey, just like every Friday night when you work. Suddenly the lights go down, plunging the crowd into darkness before strobes of light cast onto the crowd and a man’s voice comes alive on the speakers. 

“Please welcome back to the stage…. Diamond!” He announces and you walk up, a picture of innocence and sex appeal combined in one; heels tall and hair done up.

The crowd is shaded in pinks and reds from the lights and dollars that start flying as your hips move when the music starts. The pole to the center is an anchor, both to dance and bend down to grab the cash. You look over the crowd, winking, smiling, blowing kisses. 

But what you don’t see is the man on the upper floor, towards the back. He’s sitting with a few people, but when his eyes find your scantily clad body, his breathing stops and his hand clenches the whiskey glass to the point that his knuckles turn pale white. 

Your top falls away, and immediately he sets the glass down with a hard click. He notices how guys and even a few ladies fawn all over you while you dance, throwing money at you. It grates on his nerves. 

You continue the dance, the lights harsh and warm against your skin. As you turn you get a view of each side of the stage, faces are blurry, only a few are distinguishable. Strangers with a look of lust.

You tease the strap of your underwear, pulling it down before letting it go back up on your hip with a flirty smile, biting your manicured nail. The whole time, Chan is up on the upper level, grinding his teeth, the muscle in his jaw jumping with every clench. He finally downs the rest of the drink and slams down the glass with a harsh clink. He goes to the bar down stairs, the whole time, his eyes are on you.

The song is coming to an end, and judging by the amount of bills on the stage floor, you made a decent amount. You end in a sexy pose once the music stops and applause erupts, more money being tossed as you smile innocent but flirty. You pick up your top, quickly tying it up in the back before collecting your bills. 

“And that was Diamond! Give her another round of applause!” The announcer smiles over at you and you wave sweetly with a wink. You give one last wave to the crowd as you finish collecting your money and head back to the dressing room. 

You put your stage money in your bag in your locker before you lock it up. Music continues to play and the lights flash still as you walk out onto the floor, a sea of strangers walking around along with other dancers. 

“Diamond!” 

You look in the direction of the voice, and you see the manager waving you over. A polite smile finds itself on your lips and your feet carry you over to him. 

“Hey, Zeke! What’s up?” 

“Baby girl, that was a great set. So good in fact, someone has requested you for an hour, paid in advance.” 

A wad of cash is flashed in front of you and your eyes light up. 

“What room?” You reach for the cash and Zeke points to the hallway with doors on each side. 

“Last door on the left.” He winks at you and once you’ve secured the cash you quickly lock it up in the back and walk down the hallway. The door opens under your hand, the room is bathed in dim warm lighting. You notice the mask on the guy's face. His eyes are visible, but his nose, mouth, and chin are covered. He sits on the plush couch, legs spread and eyes following you closely. 

“You shy, sweetheart? Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” you wink and he sits there, motionless. It’s almost eerie, but the $1,000 in your wallet causes you to push forward. His hair is done up nice and neat, the button up tight against his skin.

An odd feeling twists in your gut but you ignore it. The sultry music begins and you walk over, a pole sitting in the middle of the room. You start dancing, the silence is thick with tension. 

“So why do you do this?” His voice comes out gravelly as he pulls out his wallet. More cash is produced and your eyes raise.

“I need the money,” you say vaguely. 

“Why?” He pushes. 

“I uhm.. I just do.” You smile, politely. 

“Why you wearing that mask?” You get into his lap, making the dance more personal. 

“Because I need to.” he answers with the same vagueness you do. 

“Touche,” you smirk and grind. 

“Am I allowed to touch?” 

“Normally, no… But… you can hold my hips.” 

“I’m special then.” He says it like a statement, not a question. 

“Maybe you intrigue me.” You flirt as you press your chest into his face. His eyes flutter closed as the heat radiates from your body. 

You continue the dance and his hands find your hips. As you grind down you can feel the effect of your performance through his pants. You stifle a soft embarrassed giggle and continue dancing. 

The song comes to an end and he leaves a generous tip on the couch. 

“You work tomorrow night too?” 

“Why? Wanna come back and see me?” 

“Absolutely,” he admits. A furious blush pushes its way upon your cheeks.

“Yeah… I work tomorrow.” Your voice is now drained of confidence, it’s now a shy sweet tone. Something that makes his heart skip a beat.

“I’ll see you then.” He’s out the door before you can even say goodbye. 

-

That night you go home, your mind is consumed with the masked client who promised to show up tomorrow. His hair and eyes haunt you. His voice, deep, serious and sweet. The way he looked at you, you don’t know how, but it was different. 

Only time will tell if he shows up the next night. 

- 

The music pulses and while you try to forget about your masked client. Every time you see the front door open, you look hoping to see him, but you never do. Each time a twinge of disappointment courses through your gut.

The time comes for your stage dance, and the whole time you search for him, both on the 1st floor and the 2nd floor. 

The earlier part of the night went, no sign. You don’t let it affect your performance, especially when you see normal clients. You put on the same mask as every work night, the flirty smile, the sparkly eyes and sweet voice. 

The stage dance ends and you’re pulled left and right. Mostly regulars, but a few new people. 

Finally as the night is about to conclude, Zeke approaches you. 

“Diamond, you wanna take one last dance? He paid up front again.” Your stomach clenches as he flashes the same wad of cash from last night. You smile and take it, locking it away the same as last night. 

As you walk in, there he sits, in a black tank top and black pants, mask to match. Your eyes roam, seeing the definition in his arms.

“I didn’t think you’d show up.” 

“I told you I would.” His voice is so casual. 

“My shift is technically over. I’m staying over for this.” You inform him. 

“Let me make it worth your while.” He flashes double the amount he paid you. 

“You don’t have to-” 

“I know,’ he shrugs and throws it down on the table like it’s nothing. The music starts. 

“I want a lap dance.” His voice, his tone, the air around him tells you he’s not big on being told no. And he did pay… very well. 

“Alright darlin.” You give him a flirty wink.

“So, you wanna tell me what you do for work?” You ask as your hips move in his lap. His hands find their way back, like they belong there, and it feels strangely like they might. 

“I’m a business man.” His tone is short, but casual.

“What kind of business?” 

“Classified information, sweetheart.” 

“Mysterious.” you smirk but continue the dance.

“Did you have a good day before work?” Your movements falter for only a brief moment. He notices.

“Uhm, y-yeah. I did.” 

“What’s the matter?” 

“Nothing, just.. No one asks about my day. It… caught me off guard.” 

Something about that makes Chan’s blood boil. Anyone should count themselves lucky to even be in your presence. His hand goes up your back pulling you closer, forcing a small gasp from your lips. 

“Let me take you out to dinner, Diamond.” Your eyes widen slightly.

“I don’t date my clients, sweetheart. It muddies things. I’m paid to be a performer.” 

“So that’s a no?” 

“Unfortunately, handsome,” you nod slowly. He nods his head, but you can tell he’s thinking. 

“Then I guess I’ll settle for this.. For now.” he says. The rest of the dance is more tense. The music ends, but his fingers flex against your hips. 

“Dance is over, sweetheart-”

“Do you have to go?” his voice sounds strangely vulnerable.

“My shift is over.” 

“Just to talk.” 

“I should get home..” You get up off his lap with a polite smile. 

“Y/N,” you freeze, eyes wide. No one in this establishment knows your real name… So how does he?

Tags: @breakmeoff @thelovelybireader @ot8butinlovewithlixie @velvetmoonlght @hwangjoanna @princesskrystix @snowyquokka @wavetohannie @swariechan143 @rainychaoscreation @nightmarenyxx @jeyelleohe @hyunjinswife4ever @channieshands143

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the end !

note: haha.. jk no it's not the end. jus realised i forgot to add the part where y/n tells lexi that he took her to a restaurant first and then gave her the album. mb. and also, i am sorry about the messy chapter. i know this chapter was a little all over the place, i genuinely have way too much going on in my life right now and i’ve been extremely tired lately, but i still tried my best to execute this chapter properly and make it enjoyable </3