Catie

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[likecatie]

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[swanlakebaby]

SEEN - MASTERLIST

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ch.2 — ᨳଓ .

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ch.4 — ᨳଓ .

[wintrbears]

The Wife Trap: Part II | JJK

Summary: Jungkook's been living as his twin for three months without too many hiccups or blunders, but he can't keep you waiting to be intimate again for much longer. Not to mention all the other obstacles which keep constantly appearing in his path.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Jungkook’s Twin x Reader, (Slight) Jungkook x Jennie

Genre: Twins AU, Unrequited Love, Brother-in-Law/Friends to Lovers?, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Slow-Burn, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 31.8k

Warnings: intense grief, depression, manipulation, lying, betrayal, violation, gaslighting, crying, panic attack(?), unwanted advances, unrequited love, self-hatred, yearning, depression inner-monologue, bars, drinking, jealousy, accusations, mild arguments, business jargon, technology, the corporate world 😩, public speaking, twins, trading places, tricking people, mentions of death. SMUT: dub-con (she consents to the acts but is unaware of his real identity), kissing, shower sex, drying humping, fingering, oral sex (both receiving), missionary, vaginal sex, crying during sex 🥲, titty play, spitting, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, car sex, sex on a counter, dirty talk, subspace, creampie, alrighty that’s all!

Author’s Note: wow, you guys, I don’t know how to put into words how grateful I am for all the love I’ve received for this story so far. not just the amazing reviews and comments, but the thoughtful theories and ideas in my inbox. when I wrote this story I genuinely believed no one would wanna read something so sad and it would just be for me 🫣 I truly can’t thank everyone enough!! this part is WAY less dark than the first part, so hopefully it’s an easier read. also, I know what you’re all gonna say after this chapter: “how can she not tell it’s JK?” and to that I’ll just say I promise everything will be answered in due time! I can’t wait to hear everyone’s thoughts and predictions once you finish so please let me know either by commenting or sending in an ask! love you all sooo much. I hope you enjoy this one ☺️

-> The Wife Trap Masterpost

Jungkook’s grown accustomed to waking up to the smell of baked goods wafting up the stairs from the kitchen. He’s even gained the ability to distinguish the different scents depending on which recipe you’re following. 

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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[wintrbears]

The Wife Trap: Part II continued...

Weeks go by in a flash as the renovations, stacks of paperwork, and lengthy to-do lists gradually get completed one by one. Now you’re only a few days away from the grand reopening. 

Besides Jennie, you also hired a fellow baker from college to help out and after a few months, you’ll reassess if you need more employees. 

You’re glowing these days because of the upcoming event on the forefront of your mind, and Jungkook loves being able to watch from the sidelines. You’ve always worked in the shadows; perfecting your craft over the years without ever showing it off. Now you’re about to shine for all of Seoul to see. 

Plus, witnessing you in a leadership role is amazing in and of itself. You always treat the people helping you with utmost kindness, but while still maintaining firm control of your vision. It’s obviously a natural position for you to be in, considering you’re thriving despite the pressure of opening your first business. 

Jungkook decides to take the latter half of the week off so he can assist with any finishing touches. Hence why it’s ten in the morning and he’s only just now getting in the shower. In contrast, you woke up a couple hours ago for the final walkthrough of the building. 

His phone dinged while he was showering, no doubt with a text from you stating you’re on your way back. Soon proven when he hears you rummaging around the bedroom after turning the water off. Which leads him to quickly dry off and wrap a towel around his waist so he can greet you. 

You’re facing away from him digging through your jewelry box on the dresser, but you must notice the door open because you make a noise of acknowledgment without looking up.

“Morning, beautiful,” he whispers with a kiss on the top of your head.

“Sorry, just one second. I need to find these earrings.”

Jungkook chuckles and heads across the room to find some clothes.

“Take your time.”

Upon locating the desired items, you turn in his direction while putting each of the earrings in. 

“Hey, since when can you sing?”

The question totally catches him off guard and he pauses like you’re controlling him in a video game as the shirt he just grabbed dangles from his fingertips.

“What?”

“You’ve never been able to hum a single correct note, but you were putting on a whole concert in the shower,” you explain. 

Jungkook’s instincts take over and he disagreeably shakes his head. 

“I think you were just hearing the music.” 

You chuckle.

“No, baby. It was a female singer and I heard a male voice.” 

“Right, I just meant it probably only sounded good because there was music playing.” It doesn’t seem like you buy the justification. Especially not when you tilt your head and flash a lopsided smirk that tells him you absolutely know he’s bullshitting you. “Alright. I… I took music lessons. Earlier this year.” 

The best lies are made up of half truths.

“Huh?”

“It’s our parents' 35th anniversary next year so Kook and I wanted to sing the song they danced to at their wedding during the party. Kook can hold his own just fine, but as you so kindly mentioned, I can’t sing for shit. So, I paid for some lessons.” 

The truth is the two of them really were planning on performing the iconic duet at their parents’ party and Jaehyun was actually going to get lessons, but they wouldn’t have taken place until a couple months before the event.

His explanation leaves you awestruck and you even shake your head like it’ll help you comprehend the new information.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because it was supposed to be a surprise!”

“Are you still planning on going through with it?”

Jungkook shakes his head.

“It was meant to be a duet, but there’s only one of us now.”

You frown and cross the room so you can take his hands.

“I’m so sorry, honey. I’m sure it was going to be amazing and your parents would’ve loved it,” you assure him. “But at least you’ve got a new talent under your belt. Maybe you can show it off for me sometime.”

He smirks.

“You want me to serenade you, baby?” There’s a shy smile on your lips when you enthusiastically nod. “Alright. Just name the song and place and I’ll be there.”

A giggle of delight serves as your response before you pivot to finish getting ready for the day. 

Jungkook’s thankful that not only is he quick witted, but you trust him, or trust Jaehyun, enough not to poke holes in his sometimes shaky excuses. 

His twin being a terrible singer is a fact of the universe, so there’s no reason he should’ve ever been caught singing on key in the shower. He’s gotten a little too comfortable these last couple months, but he has to remember even the smallest detail could blow the whole house of cards away. 

On the actual morning of the grand reopening, in a stark contrast to your demeanor over the last few months, you’re more nervous than Jungkook’s ever seen you. 

You two are about to leave for the ribbon cutting ceremony prior to the opening and you’ve yet to stop pacing around the living room once in the past thirty minutes. Jungkook’s been trying to soothe you with encouraging words and calming mantras, but nothing’s working. 

“Sweetheart, we’re prepared for this. We’ve been ready for weeks now,” he reassures you. 

“But what if something goes horribly wrong or all these people show up and the desserts taste terrible? What if the lines are too long so everyone leaves or they think my speech is awful?”

“None of those things are gonna happen.”

“You don’t know that, Jae,” you argue.

After one final lap around the couch, Jungkook stomps over to halt you in your tracks by the shoulders. It forces you to meet his gaze, which is simultaneously stern and supportive.

“Even if all that happens, it doesn’t take away from how hard you’ve worked.”

You grimace as your lower lip anxiously trembles.

“But what if I let him down?” 

Those simple words alert Jungkook as to where your true nervousness lies. Now that he knows, he can better help you safely return to earth.

“You won’t. You can’t. There wasn’t a day of Kook’s life when he wasn’t immensely proud of you and today’s no exception. You could accidentally set the building on fire and he would still think the world of you,” he sincerely proclaims.

“Are you positive?” 

Your expression is a mixture between pitiful and downright terrified, and he’ll do anything to fix it. 

“You want me to ask him?” The idea grants him a small grin when you nod. “Alright. Give me a minute.” Jungkook closes his eyes and straightens his posture before nodding and humming as though he’s listening to someone on the opposite end of a metaphorical phone. “Uh huh. Yeah. Heard.” He hears you laugh and it automatically brings a huge smile to his face. After a few more seconds, he clears his throat and meets your anticipatory gaze. “He says if you don’t stop doubting yourself, he’ll have you smited.” 

Another giggle escapes you along with a loving eye roll.

“That’s such a Kookie thing to say.”

“Wait!” He throws his hand up and closes his eyes again like he’s intercepting another message. “He also says he couldn’t be prouder of you if he tried. And he loves you.” His eyes open as he sends you the softest, warmest smile. “So, so much, Cupcake.”

Your own eyes turn into massive pools of emotion, and although you don’t cry, you have to blink back the tears on your waterline.

“Thank you. I think I really needed to hear that,” you confess.

“Anytime. Now, c’mon. We’ve got a bakery to open.”

Jungkook steals your hand to physically tug you across the room and out the door. Everything’s already set up at the building so all that’s left is to show up, give a speech, and let the crowds roll in. 

When you arrive, Jennie, your friend Maddie, both sets of your parents, and some other loved ones are already gathered around the podium in front of the door, which is currently roped off by a big pink ribbon. The new neon sign is also covered by a sheet so it can have its own big reveal. 

You and Jungkook walk hand in hand across the street from the parking lot to join everyone, who all give you loving hugs and words of encouragement.

“Are you ready?” Jennie asks while clapping in excitement.

“Well, clearly you are more than me,” you tease.

She smiles before comfortingly leaning her head on your shoulder.

“It’s gonna be great. I just know it.”

As you reciprocate the affection by resting your own head atop hers, Jungkook can’t resist cheesing like a clown. Seeing his two favorite women in one place, sharing such a special achievement together, is beyond precious to him. 

The crowd is growing larger by the minute, with a handful of journalists from the press, a group of Kookie’s regulars, and bakery enthusiasts coming to survey the new establishment. Unfortunately, the more people who arrive, the more nervous you become. By the time there’s less than five minutes ‘til showtime, Jungkook has to squeeze both of your hands between his own to stop them from shaking. 

Once the clock strives twelve, a hush falls over the crowd and Jungkook turns to you for a final pep talk. 

“You got this, baby. The desserts are gonna speak for themselves and you’ve rehearsed your speech millions of times. It’ll be perfect.”

You slowly inhale while nodding your head.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got this,” you confidently declare.

Jungkook drops your hands to cup your face instead.

“I love you. I’m so damn proud of you. Now, go.” 

He bends down for a brief, ardent kiss before smacking your ass to send you on your way. You jump from the unexpected sting, but it also leaves you giggling as your nose scrunches.

“Alright, alright. I love you, too.”

You exit the alleyway you two were hiding in and step up onto the podium. He follows closely behind, planting himself just off to the side along with Jennie and his folks. 

“You nervous?” Jennie whispers to him.

“Me? Why?” 

“Like, on her behalf.”

Jungkook’s mouth forms a small O of realization, but he inevitably shakes his head.

“Nah. There’s nothing she can’t do,” he wholeheartedly replies. “Or you, for that matter.” Her eyes expand, clearly not having expected a compliment. “Kook would be so fucking proud of you, Jennie. And seeing you this happy…” He sighs. “It’s all he ever wanted.”

His words leave Jennie’s irises sparkling with emotion, but there’s also a smile gracing her lips.

“Thank you.”

He returns her grin before the sound of you tapping the microphone to check that it’s working ends their conversation as they both turn their attention back to you. 

Despite how anxious you are, you look positively radiant and completely relaxed. Your infectious smile, pink cheeks, and captivating eyes are all Jungkook can focus on while you place your notecards down on the podium. 

For a split second, it causes him to recall the last night you, he, and Jaehyun were ever together. It was Jaehyun’s job to give a speech that evening and Jungkook knows without a shadow of a doubt he’s watching over you right now feeling nothing but pride. He wishes the roles were reversed today; for your actual husband to be the one supporting you while he observes from another plane of existence. Alas, the world isn’t kind enough to grant that request. 

“Hello, everyone,” you cheerily greet the crowd. “I’m Jeon Y/N, the new owner of Kookie’s. I feel like it’ll be helpful if I begin by explaining how that came to be.” You pause to straighten out your cards and take a deep breath. “The original and previous owner, Jungkook, was my brother-in-law, and funny enough, the name ‘Kookie’s’ comes from my nickname for him. I claimed sole use of the moniker on the day we met before he proceeded to coin the nickname ‘Cupcake’ for me. And if it’s unclear why that’s so fitting, you might be in the wrong place,” you joke. “For those who don’t know, our family lost Jungkook almost six months ago in a car accident. Thus leaving not only a massive hole in all our hearts, but a vacancy in the ownership of this beloved establishment behind me.” Jungkook hears a quiet sniffle and when he turns his head to check on his parents, he sees his dad wiping a tear from his mom’s cheek. “It’s been really hard because whenever I tell someone, they give me this look like, ‘Oh, that's not so bad. It’s just your brother-in-law.’ I mean, some people don’t even like their brother-in-law, so I suppose it’s a safe assumption. But I was lucky enough to have the best brother-in-law in the world, and in fact, referring to him as such doesn’t even feel right because he always meant so much more to me than that. We met when I was only fifteen and he…” Your sentence fades when your emotions get the better of you, but you simply take a moment for yourself before starting again. “He was my best friend,” you admit through shaky vocal chords. “Which is kinda embarrassing because I don’t know if most people’s best friend is their brother-in-law, but it’s the truth. Kookie was the kindest, warmest, and most loving soul I’ve ever known, and the world is so, so much darker without him in it.” 

You’re crying at this point, but thankfully the silent tears aren’t impeding your speech too much. 

Meanwhile, Jungkook doesn’t really know what to think. You never practiced around him because you wanted it to be a surprise. Of course, he’s heard you share similar sentiments about him in the past, but it feels different when you’re proclaiming it to an audience of strangers. 

He knows the biggest emotions swelling inside of him are unadulterated pride and adoration, but he can’t deny the hint of guilt present as well. 

Hearing you speak so highly of him, as you always do, when he spends everyday telling you one lie after another just feels wrong. Even though he’s doing all this for your sake, it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. 

But this is meant to be a celebration. You deserve this, regardless of him or Jaehyun. Today’s about your dreams and achievements, so he’ll stomach his own inner turmoil in order to cheer you on.

“That’s precisely why I’m standing here before you today. Because my family and I believe we can return some of that light, his light, by rejuvenating the place he poured his entire heart into. And since none of us could ever hold a candle to his liquor expertise, we decided the next best option is desserts!” You seem to be doing better as you pivot away from the more sentimental notions. “Kookie loved sweet treats, and not to brag, but he especially loved mine. He also loved stealing them, which is how I came to start my tradition of always baking half a dozen extra desserts just for him. I still do so to this day, and inside you’ll see a small cake plate that reads ‘Kookie’s Treats.’ I have a matching one at home and we thought it would be a fitting place to showcase our weekly specials. We’ll explain the rest of the landscape once we’re inside so everyone has a smooth buying process. And for the time being, samples of all our menu items will be on the first counter along with a numbered tab you can take for each item you wish to buy. Then you’ll simply hand your tabs to our lovely cashier, Jennie, and she’ll check you out. We’ll eventually transition away from that once both we and our customers become better acquainted with the flow of things. Samples will still be available, of course, but only upon request. When you enter today, we ask that you remain in a single file line and please limit yourself to one sample per item. If you return anytime after today, which we really hope you do, you’re more than welcome to roam as you please and steal all my samples.” The crowd clearly adores you, given they chuckle every time you say something even remotely funny. “Now, without further ado, I would like to officially announce the grand reopening of Kookie’s, whose new formal name is Kookie’s Family Bakery. Because that’s what Jungkook was to me and that’s how I want to continue his legacy.”

Following your proclamation, staff from the signage company remove the sheet covering the new design. Just as you envisioned, the original name is right where it’s always been, but beneath it are the words “Family Bakery.” There’s also a large chocolate chip cookie with a single bite taken out off to the right; your very own doodle which you decided to use as the official logo. 

The whole crowd cheers upon seeing the sign, and like the pair of best friends they are, or were, Jennie and Jungkook begin hooting and hollering in perfect sync.

You take a couple small bows after stepping out from behind the podium before waving goodbye so the city workers helping with the event can move the podium aside for the ribbon cutting ceremony. 

Jungkook waits with bated breath and once you’re within reach, he ensnares your waist and tugs you straight into his chest. His lips immediately find your cheek so he can pepper your skin with endless kisses. It makes you laugh unabashedly while your body curls against his own as though you’re melting into the embrace. 

“I am so fucking proud of you!” 

You snicker and turn your head for a real smooch. 

“I totally killed it, right?” 

“You deserve life in prison, baby!”

A blinding smile appears as you untangle yourself from his arms so you can hug Jennie as well as both his and your parents. 

Once everything’s set for the next occasion, the workers hand you a cartoonishly large pair of scissors. You pull Jennie along to do the honors and you each hold one of the handles before loudly counting down from three and cutting the ribbon in half together. 

The audience cheers again while you and Jennie adorably hug and jump around in a circle. Jungkook pretends like it doesn’t make his heart wanna burst right out of his ribcage. 

You wave your loved ones over to enter the bakery with you for the first time and after Jungkook reaches your side, you snatch his hand so you can press multiple quick kisses to his knuckles.

“You excited, sweetheart?” He asks as everyone filters in.

“Yes, but also somehow even more nervous than before because now I have to actually serve all these people,” you confess. 

Jungkook reassuringly smiles while brushing back some stray hair from your eyes. 

“You’re gonna do great. Just keep breathing and everything will work out.”

He remembers when Kookie’s first opened, and although there wasn’t a ceremony like this, the initial wave of customers who came through the door scared the shit of him. All he could think about was what if he accidentally serves a minor or gives out a drink containing something a person’s allergic to.

It’s rare for someone’s worst fears to actually come true, plus he has complete faith in you. You’ve truly got nothing to worry about, but he still understands where your nerves are coming from. 

Just as he thought, everything goes according to plan. You and Maddie stand behind the first counter with all the samples and chit chat with everyone tasting the different baked goods as Jennie mans the register. It’s organized, efficient, and the whole place feels full of life and good vibes. 

Additionally, the regular patrons of Kookie’s all leave impressed with how much the original business still shines throughout the bakery. 

The small group of your friends and family relax and mingle in the booths while also asking customers their opinions. As predicted, there isn’t a single complaint about any of your desserts. Quite the opposite; every person they speak to raves about how delicious the baked goods are. 

You only serve people for three hours, but the bakery will open again for regular business operations on Monday morning. It gives you a day off before you have to get into the swing of things full time. 

Once the final patron leaves, you practically collapse onto the stool behind the counter. Similarly, Jennie and Maddie both slump forward until their heads meet the wood.

“Holy shit,” you sigh. “We did it.” Jennie lifts her head just enough to gaze at you. “We actually fucking did it, Jen.”

She smiles and starts aggressively nodding. 

“Yes, we fucking did.”

A harmonious, high pitched squeal echoes through the building as you both stand and meet in the middle for another celebratory hug. 

Jungkook’s standing beside his mom watching you two with an endeared grin. But he can feel a familiar set of eyes on him and when he glances over his shoulder, his mom’s admiring him with a knowing smile of her own. 

“What’s with the face?”

His mom chuckles and shrugs.

“Oh, nothing,” she answers. “This was a wonderful idea, sweetie. Not only did you make Y/N’s dreams come true, but your brother would be so happy to see this.”

He mirrors her smile even though the comment almost brings tears to his eyes.

“I hope so.”

She leans over for a hug and Jungkook responds in kind by throwing his arm around her and kissing the top of her head. 

“Wait, wait, we need to take a picture,” someone suggests, grabbing their attention.

“I can take it, if you guys want one with the whole family,” Maddie volunteers.

You thank her before calling everyone over to the counter.

“Where do you think we should take it, sweetheart?” Jungkook poses to you.

“Well, there needs to be enough room for all of us,” his dad muses.

“If this is a family photo, then the entire family should be included,” Jennie claims. 

She then points at the picture hanging directly behind the register. It’s the same photo Jungkook found you clutching to your chest the night of the accident. You had a copy blown up so it could reside somewhere everyone who walks through the door will see. 

All of you agree and do your best to align yourselves in the snug space behind the counter. Maddie snaps a few photos, but while everyone else is genuinely delighted to be together, Jungkook has to fake a smile because he’s the only one aware someone’s still missing.

Goodbyes and congratulations are shared afterwards until it’s finally just you and Jungkook left inside. Now you’re lounging in a booth with your head back while he locks up the place. 

“Thank you, honey. I’m so tired I’d probably unlock everything by accident,” you joke.

Jungkook chuckles while slipping the keys in his pocket and resting one knee on the seat. 

“Well, we wouldn’t want that. Now would we? Can’t have this place getting robbed before its first full day.”

That earns him a weak giggle.

“What would they steal? The croissants?” 

His eyes turn into little crescents as he affectionately shakes his head and kisses your temple. 

“C’mon, boss lady, time to go home,” he orders

You melodramatically groan while Jungkook pulls you up to your full height. 

“Can we grab coffee? I should not be this tired before eight pm.”

“Sure, but there’s still one last item on today’s to-do list.”

“Huh? Like what?” 

Your half annoyed, half exhausted expression elicits a warm smile from Jungkook before he turns to grab something from his coat lying on the counter. 

When he faces you again, your eyes go straight to his clasped hands where something is obviously being hidden. Not only is it to shield the small box from you, but also so you don’t see his hands shaking.

This is his first gift as your husband, and despite you not knowing that, he’s so nervous he can hardly think straight. He only needs you to like it, even just a little bit. Although, deep down he’s hoping you absolutely love it. 

“I mean, I couldn’t not get you a gift to celebrate your big day,” he explains. 

Your face blanks.

“Jeon Jaehyun, that better not be something worth half your monthly salary.”

“Would a full month be alright?”

“You —”

“I’m kidding, sweetheart, I’m kidding.” He takes a deep breath before passing the box to you, but with one hand still covering it. “I wanted to get you something meaningful related to the bakery and I originally thought a cupcake would be perfect, but that still didn’t feel personal enough. I proceeded to spend days and weeks pondering what would make it complete. Then it hit me.” After lifting his hand, he waits a moment for your eyes to survey the gift nestled inside. “There’s only one physical attribute Kook and I didn’t share, and that’s these.” He wiggles his fingers. “Our mom took our fingerprints when we were young for keepsakes and stuff, so I was able to have this custom made for you.”

Resting against a cream fabric is an elegant, sparkling necklace with a gold chain that disappears into the bottom of the box. The pendant itself is a small, upside down trapezoid featuring four pink diamonds in a semi circle at the top to resemble a strawberry cupcake. But the most important aspect is the fingerprint engraved in the gold. 

“Is this…” You gulp. “Is this Jungkook’s fingerprint?”

It might seem disturbingly narcissistic to give you something with his own fingerprint on it. But no matter who he really is, the person you’re grieving is still Jungkook. Something belonging to Jaehyun won’t bring you comfort because from your perspective, he’s standing right in front of you. 

“Now he really will always be with you,” he answers.

A harsh, gut wrenching sob shatters the air in the room as you slap a hand over your mouth and plummet straight into the booth. You immediately curl forward while cradling the present to your chest and weeping into your palm. 

Jungkook’s eyes nearly pop out of his head from shock before he drops to his knees so he can be eye level with you. 

“Y/N?”

He’s hopeful your tears are ones of happiness, but his stomach’s in knots as awaits your response.

“Thank… you…” you rasp.

When you finally raise your head, there are tear stains all over your face and your eyes are swollen. 

“Oh, my baby.”

He reaches out with both hands to clear away the droplets, but more and more just replace them. 

“It’s so beautiful, Jae, but I… I don’t even know where to start putting my thoughts into words. I’m just… fucking speechless.”

“That’s alright.” 

“This is the most wonderful gift I’ve ever received. Thank you so much.”

Seeing you cry is Jungkook’s least favorite sight in the world, but he also can’t help beaming with pride as he listens to you. 

“There’s no need, sweetheart. I’m just happy if you’re happy.”

Jungkook’s smile grows before he nods towards the gift still resting above your heart, prompting you to hand it back to him.

He’s careful not to tug too hard and upon freeing the entire chain, he sets the box aside as you lift your hair off your neck. Jungkook bends over to give himself a decent view, then delicately opens the clasp and connects it behind your head. 

You two return to your previous positions and your hand naturally falls to your clavicle so you can explore the foreign piece of jewelry. 

“How’s it look?”

Truthfully, you wearing something so special that he gave to you, produces such an immaculate feeling he can’t even describe it. So, he settles on complimenting you instead.

“It’s gorgeous, but not nearly as radiant as you,” he remarks.

You surprise him again by surging ahead until your lips crash into his own. He grunts from the unexpected force, but very quickly begins matching your pace while cupping your cheeks. 

Just like always, the kiss is slow and reverent as your open mouths push and pull each other. His hands drag upwards into your hair so he has more control, which he uses to hold your head in place. It allows him to shamelessly relish in your taste while your tongues twirl together inside your mouth. 

When you inevitably have to break for air, you part with a tandem gasp before pressing your foreheads together. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook mumbles to himself.

“Jae,” you call at the same moment your eyes open and lock onto his.

“Yeah?”

He’s still panting, but it’s more from you making the blood in his veins pump faster than a lack of oxygen. 

“If you don’t make love to me the second we get home, I’m going to be very, very angry with you.” 

A small smile creeps in.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that. Now would we?”

The subtle callback in combination with his approval causes you to smirk and steal another kiss. 

You’re clearly someone who means what they say because the front door isn’t even shut yet when you practically maul Jungkook. 

You two stumble through the living room and kitchen as your lips compulsively meet over and over for rushed, haphazard kisses. The stairs are a challenge, but Jungkook holds your waist so neither of you fall while he treks backwards up the steps and guides you along with him.

It’s a flurry of movement once you reach the top floor. The master bedroom is only a few feet away, but you two are so desperate you might just enter the first room you come across instead. 

Jungkook’s spine forces the door open and after another couple steps, the backs of his knees hit the mattress. Rather than letting himself fall, he spins around before laying you down and crawling over you, all without ever breaking the crazed lip lock. 

“I need you inside me,” you pant while your fingers work on the buttons of his shirt. “Right now.”

“I know, I know.” 

He can’t think of a single cohesive thought to save his life. All he knows is he needs to get you naked before he physically combusts. 

His hands skim beneath the bottom of your shirt before he yanks it off over your head. You proceed to unclip your bra from behind your back while he undoes his belt and tosses it somewhere on the floor. Your fingertips create goosebumps across his shoulders as you trace his muscles prior to shoving his shirt off so it lands alongside the rest of your clothes. 

With you both topless, Jungkook leads you towards the center of the bed while sandwiching his knee between your thighs. You pull him down for more kisses, but his hands busy themselves with slowly tracing your curves and massaging your warm skin.

“Baby, I genuinely don’t know if I’ll last longer than five minutes,” he confesses. 

The statement causes you to laugh, thus severing your kiss. 

“That’s what happens when you wait six damn months.”

He smiles at your retort while beginning to kiss across your cheek and jawline.

You make a great point, except it isn’t even remotely close to the real reason. Because it hasn’t been merely six months for Jungkook. He’s been waiting for this exact moment for fifteen goddamn years. 

From being a hormonal teenager in his room jacking off to the thought of you, to a young adult who threw himself at anyone he could in order to forget about you, to his adult years when he would fuck strangers but picture you instead. His entire life’s been leading to this and as much as he wishes he could savor and prolong it, he knows he won’t be able to hold back. 

“Well, no matter how quickly I fill up your pretty cunt the first time, I’m planning on making up for lost time all night long.” His hands locate the buttons on your jeans while his tongue drags down the side of your throat. “You’re not leaving this fucking bed until we have to get ready for work on Monday.”

“Oh, baby. You know better than to talk big if you’re not gonna back it up.”

Jungkook lifts his head and what he finds in your gaze is a silent challenge flickering alive like a flame. 

“That I do.” 

Those three little words are all he needs to convey how serious he is about following through. And you clearly understand because you smirk and join him in continuing to strip each other. 

You lift your hips after he finishes unbuttoning your jeans so he can roll them down your legs and throw them out of sight. His own pants soon follow and within a few minutes, both your panties and his boxers are tossed aside. 

It’s with shaking hands that Jungkook explores your naked body beneath him for the first time. Sure, he felt you against him when you showered together and he’s caressed your bare skin plenty by now. But hovering above you with your legs tangled, chest to chest and nose to nose, on the bed you share, means infinity more than all those other moments combined. 

Despite the rush to get here, he takes his time gliding his fingers up, down, and around every stunning dip and curve of your frame. Your skin feels scorching hot and yet hundreds of tiny goosebumps appear in his wake. If he wasn’t so damn insatiable, he would simply do this all night so he can witness your body reacting to his touch. 

Alas, you’re both more than ready to become one and there’s nothing left between you now but the tension-charged air. 

You grab his attention by cupping his cheek, so he pries his eyes away from your body that’s practically calling for him. 

“This is okay, right?” You quietly ask. 

The gentle question is a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the room and electricity urging your bodies closer. 

“It’s much more than that.” Jungkook kisses you so softly in comparison to earlier it pulls a lighthearted, content hum out of you. “Besides, I don’t think I could lose focus even if I wanted to.” 

A dazzling smile forms as you comb through the front of his hair.

“Oh yeah? All these years and I still hold your attention?” 

The question makes him scoff.

“Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since the moment we met. Nothing could ever occupy my mind the way you do,” he declares. “My every word, thought, and deed is you.” His own feelings are so intense it sends a shiver down his spine. “You’re my everything.”

Your eyes expand as multiple different emotions flash across your face; love, devotion, reverence, and so many more. Then the hand in his hair slowly moves down until you’re able to cradle his jaw and run your thumb along his cheekbone. 

Jungkook wishes he could capture your awestruck expression forever, even if only in his mind. Not simply so he can remember it, but to remind himself why it’s so important to always tell you how much you mean to him. 

“I…” You sigh and chuckle. “Now I can’t say it back or it’ll just seem like I’m copying you.”

The two of you burst into laughter and you’re so close you can feel the other person’s chest rattling. Although it’s a tender, serene moment, it gives way for the uncontrollable lust from earlier to return all at once. Perhaps it’s because your bodies are ready to communicate what you aren’t able to with words or maybe the sensation of your warm skin brushing together is reigniting your desire. 

No matter the reason, Jungkook finds himself silencing your joy with a fervent kiss as he plants one hand beside your head and grasps your waist with the other. Similarly, your fingers dive into his hair while your opposite hand wraps around his dick to guide him towards your center.

“I love you,” Jungkook whispers right into your mouth. 

“And I love you.” It’s then his cockhead kisses your entrance for the first time and his body automatically goes rigid above you. He tries to take some deep breaths to fight off the reaction, but it doesn’t help. “Hey, it’s alright.” When your eyes meet, your familiar, adoring gaze seems to cast a calming spell over him. “It’s just me.” 

Who would’ve thought a phrase so simple could both melt all the ice and douse every flame inside his veins. 

It is just you. His best friend, partner in crime, lifeline, and solace. He wouldn’t be here without you, and not just physically in this bed with you. You’re the only reason he survived losing his other half and only you make him feel whole again.

He smiles and laughs to himself.

“Yeah. It’s you.” His hand on your waist sneaks around to the small of your back to pull you closer. “My you.”

Jungkook decides it’s now or never and time to take matters into his own hands. So in a single breath, he stops thinking about everything else and thrusts into you. 

You gasp and bite his shoulder to relieve the immense pressure in your core while Jungkook groans so loud it echoes throughout the otherwise silent room. 

“Fuck,” you whimper into his skin. 

He can feel your pussy clenching and swelling around him in an effort to adjust to the sudden intrusion. As if you aren’t already unbelievably tight. The sensation is impossible to explain, especially when it isn’t solely the physical aspect causing him to lose his mind. 

Besides the feeling of finally being nestled deep inside you, his brain is playing a constant loop of “I love you” over and over like a broken record. 

It’s all too much, and he fears if he opens his mouth his guts will come spilling out. 

The only option he can think of is to hide until the wave of overwhelming emotions passes. So, he nuzzles his face against your neck and tries to focus on your scent. 

You notice it first; the sound of sniffles and his upper body shaking above you. Jungkook doesn’t even realize it himself despite the taste of salt slipping onto his tongue. 

“Jae?” Your fingers repeatedly card through his hair to grab his attention. “Honey?”

His cries only intensify in response to hearing your voice and before he knows it, he’s desperately weeping into your skin. 

“I’m okay,” he assures you.

“You should get off me.”

“No, it isn’t that.” He lifts his head so you’ll see he’s alright before drying his face with his bicep. “I promise they’re happy tears.” You look skeptical, leading him to squeeze your waist a couple times as a silent guarantee. “I just missed you, that’s all.”

“You were just sobbing while buried balls deep… because you missed me?” 

“Yah, have you ever been inside you? It’s absolutely an experience worth crying over.”

A bright laugh escapes from your lungs and you rest your forehead on his shoulder as the giddiness rolls through you.

“You’re so ridiculous,” you snicker. 

He turns his head to kiss your temple.

“I really am okay, sweetheart.” You let your head fall onto the pillows so you can glance up at him. “And I’d really, really like to make love to you now.”

“You gonna start blubbering again from how tight I am?”

“I might.” To tease you, he rears back just an inch before sinking himself inside your cunt again. The act causes you to keen and tug on the hair caught in your grasp. “But it’ll be nothing in comparison to how you’ll be crying for my cock.” 

Your eyes roll into your skull followed by another wanton moan. 

“Fuck, baby, please put your money where your mouth is before I totally lose it.” 

It’s not as though Jungkook has the willpower to deny you. So his hips tilt back until he’s just barely resting inside your entrance. He waits in that position for some type of reaction, whether it be you begging or merely squirming for more.

As soon as he hears a breathless whimper, he spears you with his entire length again. 

You don’t gasp for air like before, but the fullness still leaves you clawing at his scalp and shoulder blades. It’s an unbelievably snug fit; as though you were made just for him or your bodies are puzzle pieces perfectly cut for one another. 

The feeling of your pussy pulsing around his cock is everything he’s been waiting for and more. He always knew no one else would be able to compare, but even then it’s far better than he ever imagined. 

“Ah, god,” Jungkook rasps before pulling out again. 

He starts off leisurely, much slower than he prefers, but he wants to appreciate the feeling of your walls expanding to accommodate his presence inside you. 

His head dips so he can kiss your neck as his hips continue to guide him in and out of your cunt. He plans to focus on your pleasure by venerating your body from head to toe. Not only because you deserve to be worshipped for hours on end, but it’ll ensure he doesn’t blow his load too soon. If he’s busy making you feel good, he won’t be paying as much attention to his own body. 

“Holy shit, I… I think I forgot how big you are,” you whine. 

Jungkook smiles and graciously pecks the soft spot below your ear. 

“How about I remind you, huh?” 

Despite wishing he could fuck you slow and deep all night, the horny gremlin in his brain is screaming to put you through the goddamn mattress. 

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before the hand around your waist joins the one beside your head. With his elbows bordering your ears and his forearms in an upside down V, it gives him ample leverage to pound into you until you can’t recall your own name. 

When he switches to an allegro pace without any warning, your nails violently drag down his spine and mark his skin with bright red streaks. It causes him to loudly grunt in your ear, but the sting is addictive and encourages him to pump into you even harder. 

You mewl and arch your back as his thick cock stretches you open and repeatedly kisses your cervix. Jungkook can hardly believe how well your body reacts to him. The intense warmth surrounding all his most sensitive nerve endings is unreal. Not to mention you’re tightness or that you’re absolutely soaked. 

Every time his dick leaves your pussy it comes out covered in creamy, white slick. The sight’s so intoxicating he genuinely believes he could get drunk off it and the sound is the same. Besides your tandem moans, the clapping of skin and loud squelch from him entering you again and again is echoing throughout the entire room. 

“Feels… feels so… so good,” you stutter, because his tempo is preventing you from completing a full sentence.

Jungkook laughs before leaving your neck alone with a final smooch. Upon witnessing you beneath him, quite possibly looking as gorgeous as he’s ever seen you, one of his hands shifts to pet your hair.

“Worth the wait?” 

“Mmhm.” There are tears pricking the corners of your eyes and he can’t help but feel prideful. “Just please don’t ever keep me waiting that long again. I need your cock, baby. Need it so fucking bad.” 

“Jesus, you’re gonna make me bust if you keep saying shit like that.” 

His statement lights a fire in your eyes and a sinister smirk forms before you lean up to whisper in his ear.

“Maybe that’s what I want. Maybe I want you to fill me up with so much cum it’ll drip down my thighs for days.”

Your teeth nip at his cartilage and Jungkook literally has to clench his abdominal muscles to prevent his seed from spilling into you. His hips falter, breath catches, and his fingers twist around the sheets all in an attempt to stay in control.

You merely giggle at his predicament while continuing to lick and nibble on his earlobe. 

“C’mon, honey, make a mess of your pretty pussy. It’s been so long,” you theatrically drawl.

“Y/N,” he warns you through gritted teeth.

“Stuff your cum into me. Please, Jae.”

“You little…” 

Jungkook growls along with a harsh tug on your hair as he pulls out and sits back on his heels. He proceeds to push your knees into your chest before pinning both of your hands to the mattress high above your head. Once you’re helpless underneath him, he mercilessly penetrates you again while pressing his full body weight down on you. 

The new position causes you to scream as the tears from earlier break free and cascade down your cheeks. Not only are you basically folded in half, but his strokes are even faster and harder than before.

“If you’re gonna act like a brat, then you’re gonna get fucked like one, too.”

“Holy shit,” you shriek.

“Nuh uh. You wanted this, sweetheart, so take this fat fucking cock like the good little wife you are.”

Besides your taunts spurring Jungkook on to fuck you with all his might, he had no choice but to leave the warmth of your cunt or else he would’ve involuntarily granted your wish. 

This angle somehow makes you feel even tighter and Jungkook alternates between grunts and pants while your cunt pulsates around him. It doesn’t help that every time he propels himself deeper, your velvety walls clamp down, bringing him the most remarkable pleasure he’s ever experienced. 

You’re not faring much better, evident by your body shaking beneath him as you moan and sob incoherent phrases.

The hands trapped under his own are holding onto his wrists for dear life, but even that small, mundane connection is driving him wild. It also makes him realize he wants more; needs to feel your skin and your touch everywhere possible. 

His epiphany leads him to rise just enough to hook your legs around his shoulders instead, allowing you to be chest to chest. He’s able to kiss you in this position, too, which he does with utmost enthusiasm. 

You whimper into his mouth when his tongue slips past your lips, but even in your shrouded mental state, you still manage to partake in the familiar, sensual dance. 

The two of you making out with your fingers intertwined above your heads and your bodies moving as one feels beyond euphoric. Sure, burying his dick inside you as deep as it can go is amazing, but nothing compares to being entirely surrounded by your presence. Everything from your scent, your warmth, your soft skin, and your airy voice are turning his brain to mush. 

“Baby, you’re so big,” you whine between smooches. “I won’t last much longer.”

“Me… me either.”

Jungkook decides to finish by turning the heat down. His hands roam your arms while he rises so your legs can return to his hips. The adjustment brings you two even closer, leaving him completely on top of you as you lock your ankles behind his back. He rests his weight on his forearms so he doesn’t crush you, but there’s still less than a millimeter of space between your bodies.

Feeling your sweaty chest rubbing against his own once he changes to an andante rhythm sends metaphorical sparks flying. Despite slowing down, his strokes are deeper and more intentional, causing the air around you both to seemingly crackle with electricity. 

You’re also still making out, tongues battling in each other’s mouths and muffling your harmonious moans. 

When Jungkook feels your cunt forcefully clench as more sticky cum coats his length, he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip and tugs until you cry out. After it snaps back into place, he shoves his tongue inside your mouth again and swirls it around to make you repeat the noise. 

“Come on this cock, baby. I gotta feel you let go before I fill you up,” he instructs. 

“Ha — harder.”

Your demand surprises him, but he’s certainly not going to complain. He doesn’t speed up at all, just begins rolling his hips with excessive force to sheath himself within your walls. His tip meets your g-spot like a damn magnet while the repetitive movement supplies your clit with the perfect amount of friction. 

“Like that, yeah?”

Rather than responding, you nod as best you can when your lips are still chasing after one another.

Soon enough, he feels your pussy constrict more than it has before, warning him of your impending orgasm. In fact, it’s only a matter of seconds before your muscles tighten to the point he can barely move as your arousal soaks his dick. 

Your climax triggers his own, and his fluid motions halt in an instant when the release leaves him convulsing above you. 

Jungkook buries his face in your neck with such an avid groan even your skin doesn’t quiet it. His balls contract and his dick swells before he floods your cunt with hot seed. He truly doesn’t know if he’s ever come this much or this hard. The sheer intensity almost causes him to black out as white dots appear in his vision. 

“Holy fuck,” he gasps while falling limp on top of you. 

You chuckle.

“Yeah.”

After a long time of simply catching your breath together, Jungkook sighs and rolls off of you. He despises the sudden lack of warmth, already wishing he could be inside you again. 

Based on muscle memory alone, he travels to the en-suite to grab you a soft towel. He’s attentive and gentle as he cleans your folds and inner thighs while you’re starfished on the mattress with your eyes closed. 

You look utterly blissful despite how exhausted you are, making Jungkook’s heart soar with love and pride. 

“Let’s get you to bed, sweetheart.”

He guides you underneath the covers and pulls them up to your chin before tucking the sheets in around your body so you’re comfortable and snug. 

“I… love… you…” you whisper so softly he almost doesn’t catch it.

Jungkook sits on the edge of the bed and combs through the front of your hair while watching your face slowly fall into a deep slumber. 

“I love you, Y/N.” He bends down to kiss your forehead, where he confesses his next phrase. “More than you possibly know.”

He heads back to the bathroom to clean himself up and upon stepping onto the marble floor, he glances in the mirror like usual. Except tonight, for the first time since Jaehyun’s death, he doesn’t find his own reflection. No, there’s no doubt his brother is the one staring him down through the glass. 

Logically, he knows it isn’t Jaehyun, but nothing he’s done in the last six months has been logical. 

It’s clear to him why he’s seeing his twin in the mirror at this very moment. Even without the visual, the overwhelming guilt sitting like a barbell on his chest is enough to understand the reason. Not only for what you two just did together, but earlier at the bakery and possibly everything else he’s done since Jaehyun died. 

Jungkook fucked you. Laid you down beneath him and filled your pussy with his semen. His brother’s wife. It’s so goddamn twisted he finds himself white knuckling the counter while he tries to avoid his reflection. 

Then this afternoon, he listened to you speak about him like he hung the stars in the sky. He stood there and let your words fill him with warmth as though he hasn’t been lying to your face for months. 

For Christ’s sake, you’re currently wearing a necklace with his fingerprint on it. If he were any more selfish and venomous, he’d be a Greek myth. 

Before Jungkook realizes, tears are falling down straight into the sink below. He quickly covers his mouth with his palm so you don’t hear him wailing as his ribcage begins to rattle from the astronomical force of his emotions. 

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I’m so fucking sorry, Jae.” 

His eyes finally meet the twin pair in the mirror again, but it absolutely shatters him. He can’t stomach looking at the person who trusted him more than anyone, and who he’s betrayed in ways which can never be undone. 

He collapses against the marble when his cries become too much to withstand. From there, he turns around and slides down the cabinets until he reaches the floor. His knees come to his chest as he buries his face in them and continues to desperately weep. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

The chant repeats and repeats until his voice is too hoarse to keep going. 

Jungkook ends up crying himself to sleep on the plush carpet, but he thankfully wakes up before you notice. He has to utilize all his energy just to stand so he can join you in the bedroom, although a massive part of him doesn’t even want to. 

How can he after what he’s done? Not just to his brother, but to you. He used your body for his own pleasure while you remain clueless to who he really is.  

He’s a monster, that’s for certain after this. The problem is there’s no going back even if he wanted to. All he can do is live with the decision, with his raging guilt, and move forward as Jaehyun like he’s been doing for half a year. 

So, he climbs into bed behind you and pulls you towards his chest. You hum in your sleep and instinctively nuzzle yourself closer while he places delicate kisses along your shoulder. 

Yes, he’s a monster, but he’ll gladly accept damnation if it means keeping you happy. 

-> Part III

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[spideyjimin]

it took me a while to read this whole part, but man, i’ve enjoyed every single word!! as for the previous part, i’ll just rant about this below the cut thingy, not to spoil anyone ☺️

honestly, reading this through jungkook’s perspective is heartbreaking at all levels 💔 outside the fact that he has to deal with the grief, seeing how guilty he constantly feels is hard! and the part with jennie was so so sad 😭😭 for sure, what he did is a bit twisted, but somehow, the fact that it is explained makes it understandable in some way. as i was reading this part, i wanted to genuinely know what oc thinks and feels because i still wonder if she hasn’t noticed it was jungkook 🫣 this fic is sooooo intriguing and bless your brain for creating this!! and the way you write it is so so good! it’s been super funny too to read everybody’s little theories, but i genuinely don’t know what to think 😅 thank you so so much for writing this and can’t wait to read the last part 💕

[softygloss]

Fashionably Late

Warnings: shy husband Yoongi, mature themes, suggestive content, sexual tension, teasing, party setting, mild language, oral sex (f m receiving), vaginal sex, possessive undertones, late-night intimacy.

Words count: ≈4000

Summary: Yoongi and Yn show up late to a party after getting very distracted at home.

Inspired by: @yeskookii ideas

Yoongi stood in front of the full-length mirror in their bedroom, adjusting the collar of his black button-up shirt. The fabric clung neatly to his slender frame, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing the faint veins along his forearms. He ran a hand through his dark hair, trying to tame it into something presentable for the party. It was one of those casual gatherings at their friend’s spacious house on the edge of the city like music, drinks, laughter, the usual crowd from their old circle.

Behind him, Yn was anything but ready. She had slipped into a slinky emerald dress that hugged every curve like liquid silk, the hem riding high on her thighs and the neckline plunging just enough to showcase the soft swell of her breasts. But instead of finishing her makeup, she was pressed flush against his back, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder as she watched their reflection with dark, predatory eyes.

“You look too good,” she murmured, her voice dripping with that familiar, shameless hunger. Her hands wandered without hesitation, sliding up his chest before dipping lower, fingers boldly tracing the buckle of his belt.

“This party is going to be absolute torture for me, baby. All night I’ll be soaked, thighs rubbing together under this tiny dress, fantasising about dragging you into a quiet corner and swallowing every thick inch of this cock down my throat until I’m gagging and drooling for you.”

Yoongi’s breath caught sharply, his dark eyes widening in the mirror. A deep flush crept up his neck and across his cheeks as he froze under her touch. “Y-Yn…we promised we’d go. They’ve been planning it for weeks.” he whispered, voice already husky and shy, barely above a breath.

She smiled against his neck, lips brushing the sensitive skin just below his ear. “Then we’ll be fashionably late.” One hand boldly cupped the growing bulge in his trousers, squeezing with shameless delight. “Mmm, feel that? Your cock is already waking up for me. So thick and pretty. I’ve been wet since I zipped this dress up, imagining how it’s going to stretch me open.”

Her words were filthy and unfiltered, spoken right against his ear as she palmed him through the fabric. Yoongi’s breath hitched, but he only sighed, leaning back into her touch ever so slightly. He never stopped her. Never pushed those wandering hands away. Instead, his own fingers found her hip, gripping the curve there as if to steady himself.

“Fuck… you’re going to kill me,” he muttered, voice cracking slightly.

Despite his shyness, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning back into her, hips twitching forward into her hand. He was utterly obsessed, addicted to her insatiable hunger, the way she could say such dirty things without a hint of shame. It made his cock throb painfully against her palm.

In moments, the careful preparation unravelled. Yn spun him around and captured his mouth in a deep, demanding kiss, tongue sliding against his with needy insistence. She backed him towards the bed, her hands working open his belt with practised ease. “Need you now,” she whispered between kisses. “Can’t wait another minute. My pussy is aching for your tongue and that gorgeous dick.”

Without another word she took him deep into her mouth, sucking greedily, hollowing her cheeks as she bobbed her head. Obscene wet sounds filled the room as she worked him with shameless enthusiasm, one hand stroking what she couldn’t fit, the other slipping between her own thighs to rub her dripping folds.

Yoongi’s head fell back against the mirror with a soft thud, one hand gently threading into her hair, not pushing, just holding on as if she were the only thing keeping him grounded. His cheeks were burning, breath coming in shy, ragged pants. “Y-You’re so… fuck, you’re insane” he whimpered, the words broken by another moan when she took him even deeper, nose brushing his pelvis. “I can’t… I can’t believe how much you want me.”

She pulled off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her swollen lips to his glistening cock. “I’m always this wet for you, Yoongi. All day. Every day. I touch myself thinking about your cock, your tongue, your hands pinning me down while you fuck me senseless.”

He let her push him down onto the mattress, the party forgotten as she hiked her dress up around her waist and straddled his face without ceremony. No underwear underneath just bare, glistening folds already slick with arousal. She lowered herself onto his waiting mouth with a loud, satisfied moan.

“Fuck, yes...lick me, baby, devour me”

She gasped, grinding down. Yoongi groaned into her heat, lapping at her slickness with broad, hungry strokes. He worshipped every inch: the swollen, puffy lips, the sensitive hood of her clit, the tight clench of her entrance that fluttered against his tongue. His hands kneaded the soft flesh of her arse, pulling her impossibly closer as he sucked and licked with quiet fervour.

Yn’s moans were immediate and unrestrained, filling the bedroom. “Your tongue is fucking perfect....right there, baby. Suck my clit harder. I’m so fucking wet for you already.” She rode his face with abandon, hips rolling, juices coating his chin and dripping down his neck.

“Your tongue feels so fucking good. Deeper, Yoongi. Eat this dripping cunt like it’s your last meal.”

The vibration of his low hum sent her spiralling. She was soaked, juices dripping down his throat as he sucked her clit between his lips, flicking it relentlessly. Her first orgasm hit fast and hard, back arching as she cried out, loud enough that the neighbours might have heard. But she didn’t care. She wanted to be heard.

Before she could fully come down, she slid down his body, freeing his flushed, leaking cock from his open trousers. “Look at you,beautiful” she breathed reverently, stroking the thick length. “So hard and perfect,ready to ruin me. Veins pulsing just for me.” She sank down onto him in one smooth glide, taking every inch until her arse met his hips.

A guttural moan tore from her throat. “Fuck...you stretch me so perfectly. Every vein, every inch… I’m obsessed.” She began riding him with deep, rolling movements, her breasts bouncing freely in the loosened dress. The wet sounds of her soaked pussy sliding up and down his shaft echoed loudly.

They lost themselves in the rhythm. Yn leaned forward, bracing on his chest, her moans turning into filthy praise. “Your cock is hitting so deep, right there, baby. I’m addicted to this feeling. Could fuck you every hour of the day.”

Yoongi’s cheeks were burning, breath ragged, but his hips bucked up to meet hers, letting her set the frantic pace. He was obsessed too, the tight, velvety heat gripping him, the way her walls fluttered and clenched, the heavy sway of her breasts, and especially those loud, melodic cries that drove him wild.

His phone buzzed on the bedside table. Once. Twice. Then it rang properly. The familiar ringtone reserved for the group chat friends.

Yn’s eyes lit up with wicked delight. She didn’t slow down. If anything, she rode him harder, grinding her clit against his pelvis on every downstroke. “Answer it,” she whispered breathlessly, a mischievous grin spreading across her flushed face.

Yoongi shot her a flustered look, but reached for the phone anyway. He swiped to answer, bringing it to his ear while trying to steady his voice. “Yeah?”

On the other end, Hoseok’s voice came through, cheerful and slightly loud over background music. “Yoongi-ah! Where are you guys? We’ve been waiting, food’s out, drinks are flowing. You said you’d be here by now.”

Yn clenched around him on purpose, rolling her hips in a slow, devastating circle. She leaned forward, her breasts brushing Yoongi’s chest, and moaned loudly and deliberately right beside the receiver. “Ahh fuck, your cock is so deep inside me right now!” She sat up straighter, bouncing vigorously, the slap of skin on skin unmistakable. “Tell them we’re busy, baby. Tell them I’m riding this perfect dick and I’m not stopping until I’ve creamed all over it.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened, ears turning bright red, but he didn’t pull away or end the call. He simply tightened his jaw, thrusting up into her with more force while trying to maintain some composure.

Hoseok paused, then laughed awkwardly. “Wait… are you two...? Seriously? Come on, man, we’re all here!”

Yn cut him off with a shameless, pornographic wail as she slammed down harder. “Yes! I’m getting fucked so good right now, oh my god, Yoongi, right there! Pound my greedy little cunt!” Her voice grew louder on purpose, echoing through the room and clearly carrying down the line. “Your thick cock is hitting so deep, stretching me wide open. I’m dripping down your balls, baby. Can you hear how wet I am?”

The sounds were filthy: skin slapping, her slick arousal coating his shaft, her unrestrained cries growing louder on purpose. She pinched her nipples hard, head thrown back in ecstasy, riding him with frantic, sloppy movements. The bed creaked beneath them. Her moans escalated into a continuous stream of filth: “I love this dick. It’s mine. Fill me up, want your cum leaking out of me all night. Fuck the party, I need you to wreck this pussy!”

The phone lay abandoned on the sheets, muffled voices and laughter filtering through, but it only spurred Yn on. She leaned back, one hand braced on Yoongi’s thigh, the other wildly rubbing her swollen clit as she chased release. Her inner walls began to flutter uncontrollably around him, gripping and releasing in rhythmic pulses.

Yoongi’s control snapped. He sat up suddenly, wrapping strong arms around her waist and flipping them with surprising force so she was beneath him. He drove into her with deep, punishing thrusts, hips snapping relentlessly. His face was buried in her neck, breath hot against her skin, but he let her voice carry everything.

“Yes...yes...fuck me harder!” Yn screamed, legs locked around his waist, nails raking down his back. “I’m so close...your cock is throbbing inside me. Cum with me, baby. Flood my pussy!”

The intensity built to a fever pitch. Every brutal thrust sent jolts of pleasure through her body. Her breasts bounced crazily, nipples aching. Her clit throbbed under her fingers.

Then it hit...an earth-shattering climax that tore through her like lightning. Yn’s entire body seized, back arching violently off the bed as a raw, guttural scream ripped from her throat.

“I’m cumming...oh fuck, I’m cumming so hard on your cock!”

Her walls clamped down like a vice, spasming uncontrollably, gushing slick heat around his pistoning length. Wave after wave crashed over her, thighs quaking, vision blurring, toes curling as the orgasm seemed to stretch on endlessly.

The feeling like her pulsing, fluttering heat, the sheer force of her release soaking his cock and thighs pushed Yoongi over the edge. With a low, broken groan, he buried himself to the hilt and erupted. Thick, hot ropes of cum pulsed deep inside her, filling her to overflowing.

He kept thrusting through it, prolonging the intense contractions, milking every last drop as her cunt continued to squeeze him rhythmically.

Yn’s cries tapered into breathless, whimpering moans, her body trembling beneath him in the aftershocks. She clung to him desperately, legs still locked tight, as if she could fuse them together.

Yoongi finally ended the call with a shaky hand, collapsing onto her sweat-slicked body. His face burned like fire, breath ragged, but his arms wrapped around her possessively. He pressed soft kisses to her neck, utterly spent yet already feeling the familiar stirrings of renewed hunger.

Yn smiled lazily, still clenching around his softening cock, cum slowly leaking out around him. “They can wait a little longer,” she whispered, voice hoarse from screaming. “I’m nowhere near finished with you tonight.”

Yoongi sighed, long and fond, but his fingers were already tracing the curve of her spine, ready to let her lead wherever she wanted next. The party could wait. She was his obsession, loud, insatiable, and completely, perfectly his.

༺༻

The drive to the party was mercifully short, though the air inside the car still hummed with the remnants of their earlier frenzy. Yn sat in the passenger seat with her legs crossed, the emerald dress barely covering her thighs, a satisfied little smirk playing on her lips every time she glanced at Yoongi. He kept both hands firmly on the wheel, cheeks still dusted with pink, occasionally adjusting his collar as if it might hide the fresh marks she’d left on his neck.

When they finally stepped through the door of their friend’s large house on the city outskirts, the party was already in full swing. Warm golden lights spilled across the open-plan living area, bass-heavy music pulsed from hidden speakers, and the scent of grilled meats, spicy snacks, and sweet cocktails filled the air. Laughter echoed from every corner.

The moment they appeared, conversations dipped. Heads turned. A few knowing smiles spread across familiar faces. Hoseok spotted them first, his bright grin widening into something positively mischievous as he bounded over with two drinks in hand.

“Well, well, well! Look who finally decided to grace us with their presence,” Hoseok announced loudly, drawing even more attention. “We thought you two might have gotten lost in traffic… or, you know, lost in each other. Again.”

A ripple of chuckles went through the group. Someone in the back whistled.

Yn simply laughed, bright and unashamed, slipping her arm around Yoongi’s waist and pulling him closer. “We were busy,” she said cheerfully, accepting one of the drinks. “Very busy. Yoongi’s cock was buried so deep I couldn’t think about anything else.”

Yoongi made a strangled noise, ears flaming red as he stared at the floor. “Yn…” he mumbled, voice barely audible, but there was no real protest in it. He was mortified, yet the way his hand settled on her lower back, fingers pressing lightly into the silk, showed how helplessly obsessed he was.

Hoseok nearly spilled his drink laughing. “On the phone, man! We all heard it. The whole group chat went silent for like ten seconds and then exploded. Yn, you’re a menace. Poor Yoongi sounded like he was fighting for his life.”

“He was,” Yn replied with a wink, taking a slow sip of her cocktail. “Fighting to keep that thick cock inside me while I rode him like I was trying to break the bed. You’re welcome for the entertainment.”

More laughter erupted. Yoongi hid his burning face against her shoulder for a moment, but when she tilted her head up to kiss his cheek softly, he relaxed. The teasing didn’t bother them for long. The group had known them long enough to expect this kind of chaos from Yn, and Yoongi’s shy endurance had become something of a running joke they all adored.

Despite the initial ribbing, the night quickly turned into genuine fun. The food was incredible with tables laden with Korean barbecue, fresh seafood, crispy fried snacks, and colourful desserts. Yn piled a plate high and fed Yoongi choice pieces with her fingers, licking sauce from her thumb while maintaining eye contact that made his breath hitch. They moved through the rooms easily, chatting with old friends about everything from new music projects to ridiculous travel stories. Yn’s laughter was infectious, her hand rarely leaving Yoongi’s body resting on his thigh, tracing his forearm, or slipping into his back pocket.

On the dance floor, she came alive. The music shifted to something slower and sultrier, and Yn pulled him into the centre of the crowd. She pressed her back against his chest, rolling her hips in time with the beat, grinding subtly but intentionally against him. Yoongi’s hands found her waist, holding on as if she were an anchor. His shyness made him keep the movements modest at first, but Yn kept coaxing him, turning in his arms to drape hers around his neck and kiss him deeply, tongues sliding lazily while bodies moved together. The heat between them built steadily.

They were in the middle of a lively conversation about a recent film when Yn’s hand suddenly tightened on his arm. Her eyes had that wild, glassy look again.

“Bathroom,” she whispered hotly against his ear. “Right now. I need you.”

“Yn, we just got here properly” he started, voice low and hesitant, cheeks already flushing again.

But she was already tugging him through the crowd with single minded determination. Jimin caught sight of them disappearing upstairs and shouted after them, “Round two already? Save some energy for the rest of us, Yoongi-yah!”

They didn’t care.

The guest bathroom on the upper floor was spacious and dimly lit, with a large marble counter and a lock that clicked satisfyingly shut behind them. The second the door was closed, Yn turned feral. She shoved Yoongi against the wall, dropping to her knees on the cool tiles and yanking his trousers open with impatient fingers.

“Been thinking about this since we left home,” she breathed, freeing his half hard cock and taking him into her mouth in one smooth motion. She sucked him eagerly, messily, saliva dripping down her chin as she worked him to full hardness with expert strokes of tongue and hand. Yoongi tried to fuck her face.

“Fuck… you’re hungry” he groaned quietly.

Yn pulled off with a wet pop, eyes shining. “Only for you.” She stood, turned around, and braced her hands on the counter, hiking her dress up and arching her back. “Quick and dirty, baby. Fuck me like you mean it.”

He couldn’t resist. Gripping her hips, he pushed into her soaked heat in one deep thrust. They both moaned. The angle was perfect, allowing him to hit that sensitive spot inside her with every stroke. Yn pushed back greedily, meeting him thrust for thrust, her moans growing louder despite the party happening downstairs. Yoongi, shy as ever, tried to muffle her sounds with his hand over her mouth, but that only seemed to excite her more. He fucked her harder, the slap of skin echoing off the tiles, until she came with a muffled cry around his fingers, clenching rhythmically around him. He followed soon after, spilling deep inside her with a quiet, broken moan of her name.

They cleaned up as best they could, exchanging soft kisses and shy smiles in the mirror. Yn’s cheeks were glowing, her lipstick smudged, but she looked happier than ever.

The rest of the party passed in a delightful blur. More dancing, Yn teaching him silly moves that had them both laughing until their sides hurt. Deep conversations in quiet corners about dreams and fears. Plates of food shared under the stars on the terrace.

Yoongi slowly loosened up, stealing kisses of his own initiative and even making a few dry jokes that had their friends howling. Through it all, Yn’s energy simmered just beneath the surface, stolen touches, whispered filth, and heated glances that promised the night was far from over.

༺༻

It was past two in the morning when they finally tumbled through their own front door. Yoongi was exhausted, muscles pleasantly sore from dancing and the earlier exertions. His eyes were heavy, but the moment the door closed, Yn was on him again, kissing him with renewed desperation, hands roaming under his shirt.

“Bedroom,” she demanded between kisses. “I need you so badly it hurts.”

“Baby… I’m exhausted,” he admitted softly, voice raspy, even as he let her pull him down the hallway. “You’ve already worn me out twice tonight.”

“Then lie back and let me take care of you,” she purred, pushing him onto the bed. “But I know you. Seeing me like this always wakes you right up.”

She was right.

Yn stripped slowly this time, peeling the dress off her body like a second skin and revealing every curve, every mark he’d left on her earlier. She crawled over him, kissing down his chest, taking her time to worship every inch until his cock was hard again despite his tiredness. Then she sank down onto him, taking him to the hilt in one smooth glide.

A deep, guttural moan left her. “God, you fill me so perfectly.”

She rode him with slow, deep rolls of her hips at first, savouring the stretch. Yoongi’s hands gripped her thighs, eyes fixed on where they were joined, mesmerised. But as her pace quickened and her moans grew filthier, something primal stirred in him. The sight of her head thrown back, breasts bouncing, face contorted in pure pleasure ignited fresh hunger.

The sex turned sloppy and raw. Sweat slicked their bodies. The sounds were obscene wet squelching, skin slapping, breathless curses and praises mixing together.

“Harder,” Yn begged

“Fuck me deeper, Yoongi. Ruin me.”

He gave her everything he had left. Long, powerful strokes that hit the deepest parts of her, grinding against her clit on every thrust. The bed creaked violently. Yn’s nails raked down his back, leaving red lines. She grew louder, more desperate, body trembling as another orgasm built.

When it crashed over her, it was spectacular. Her back arched sharply, mouth open in a silent scream that turned into a raw cry. Her walls clamped down around him like a vice, and then she gushed hot, clear fluid squirting around his cock, soaking his stomach, his thighs, and the sheets beneath them. Wave after wave of it, her entire body shaking uncontrollably as the orgasm tore through her.

The sight and sensation pushed Yoongi over the edge. With a low, shy groan muffled against her neck, he buried himself as deep as possible and came hard, pulsing thick ropes of cum inside her spasming heat. He kept moving through it, drawing out every last tremor until they were both spent and trembling.

They collapsed together in a sweaty, sticky tangle of limbs. Yoongi pulled the ruined sheets over them anyway, wrapping his arms around her possessively. Yn nestled into his chest, pressing soft kisses to his collarbone, her breathing slowly evening out.

“Love you,” she whispered, voice hoarse and content.

Yoongi smiled tiredly, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “Love you too. Insane as you are.”

Exhaustion finally claimed them both. Bodies heavy, hearts full, and utterly satisfied, they drifted into deep, peaceful sleep tangled together, two opposites perfectly, obsessively matched. The world outside could wait until morning. Tonight, they had given each other everything.

[kooppss]

To Whom It May Concern (This Is An HR Violation) - Part 2

Gorgeous art by @3-aem on tumblr and twitter

You are fighting for your life to finalize the Osaka project logistics. Gojo Saturo is fighting to get you to look at him. So he shows up at your hotel room door, determined to ruin your professional reputation, with champagne, zero boundaries, and a very inappropriate bathrobe. 

Series Masterlist Previous

genre: rich heir Gojo x reader, coky billionaire very on brand Gojo, cold-ish reader, office AU, coworkers to lovers (?), workplace romance (?), he fell first and harder, hotel room shenanigans, bath shenanigans, HR is crying, mutual pining (over her dead body).

warnings: semi-toxic relationship, inappropriate workplace behavior, Gojo is full of red flags if anyone behaves like that- run away, sexual activity of various types, also in a bath. also, a lot of nonsense business/corporate talk that makes no sense.

words count: 5.8k

a/n: Part 2 is here, and things get hotter as Gojo gets more annoying. This was probably the most fun I've had while writing in a while. I hope you'll get to feel it through reading. Also, I know nothing about Love Island, don’t come at me. I just know there are a lot of versions, and I literally googled ‘best season of Love Island’. And looked at the key point of the season. (It’s called writer’s research.) And as always, I hope you'll enjoy reading 🥰

…for a nano second you actually consider it–

Loosen up just for a moment.

Some champagne.

A bath.

Him. 

…

A faint mechanical click.

The lock.

Turning.

The door opens.

You both turn.

And there, standing just inside the room, Anna, holding a keycard, and the other guy from finance or whatever. Both look mortified. 

They freeze.

You freeze.

Gojo, notably, does not.

The silence is heavy.

Absolutely unbearable.

Your friend’s gaze flicks from you - to him - to the bathrobe - to the lack of it - to the champagne.

“…oh,” Anna says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interru–”

“It’s not–” you start, stepping forward, hands already lifting in a useless attempt to fix this. “This isn’t–”

Which, of course, could only make it worse.

Gojo sighs, loudly, exaggerated and deliberate. Sounding annoyed more than anything.

Then he steps in smoothly. “Change of plans,” he says, tone calm and authoritative. A complete one-eighty from the man barging into your room seconds ago. “We’ll take that meeting tomorrow.” 

What meeting? What does he talk about? Meeting? 

While in a robe? barely covering his upper body?

Your coworkers blink.

You blink.

“We weren’t–” you try again.

He doesn’t even look at you.

Just rests a hand on your back and steers you toward the door.

“You can grab whatever you came for,” he adds over his shoulder. “We’ll be unavailable.”

And just like that–

He walks you out.

You don’t say anything until you’re away from your room.

You don’t think you can.

This is bad.

This is bad bad. 

Horrible bad. 

Your-whole-career-is-fucked-up bad. 

If it gets out…

It’s not your fault. It’s his.  

You stop, heels digging into the floor as you whip around to face him. “What was that?!” you hiss.

He leans back slightly, arms crossed over his chest, completely at ease. “A rescue.” 

“I didn’t need rescuing!”

“You were about ten seconds away from making it worse.”

“I was not–”

“You were.”

You open your mouth.

Close it.

He smiles, just a little. “You’re welcome.”

You exhale sharply, covering your face. “This is a disaster.”

“It’s fine.”

“It is not fine.” You look at him, eyes sharp. “They’re going to talk.”

“Let them.”

You stare at him, not believing that this is happening right now. “That’s easy for you to say.”

“It is,” he agrees. “I don’t care.”

“I DO!” you whisper-shout at him.

“I’ll make sure they don’t talk. Fine?” He grabs your hand, pulling you away. 

Why the hell does he sound annoyed? He has no right to be annoyed. He’s the one who caused this whole mess to begin with.

You reach the elevators, and he takes out his keycard, holding it to the reader before pressing the button for the top floor. His hand stays tightly wrapped around yours, only letting go once the elevator doors close. 

“Relax,” he says, voice easy. “You look like you’re about to file a complaint.”

You let out a short breath. “I might.”

“You won’t.”

You turn to look at him. “Confident.”

“I usually am when I’m right.”

The elevator dings.

The doors slide open.

Directly into his suite.

He steps out, and you follow after him before you can really think about it. Why? You don’t know. Your brain is too much of a mess to process anything right now. 

You get to the main room, with floor-to-ceiling windows all around, overlooking the city lights stretching endlessly into the distance. Everything here looks expensive. 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment.

Just walks around like he’s done this a thousand times, like having you in his room is nothing unusual.

He disappears briefly, crouching behind the bar at the side of the room.

When he comes back up, he’s holding a new, expensive-looking bottle of champagne. How many of those does he even have here?

You exhale slowly, still standing exactly where he left you, arms crossed tightly like you’re holding onto the last scraps of your dignity.

“Seriously?” you call after him. 

“You look like you need this,” he replies easily, still busy at the bar, not looking at you. 

He reaches for two tall glasses, setting them on the counter before popping the bottle open. Champagne fizzes as he pours.

Then he walks back over and holds one glass out to you.

You don’t take it.

One of his brows lifts.

“Poison?” he offers.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You stare at him.

He doesn’t drop his hand.

Doesn’t push it closer either.

Just… waits.

God, you hate that.

You take the glass with a huff.

Not because you want it.

Just to end the moment.

“Good choice,” he says lightly, taking a sip.

“I can’t believe you,” you say. “Do you even understand what just happened?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And fuck them.”

You look at him wide-eyed, disbelieving. “Fuck them?”

“Yeah. Way to ruin my moment,” he says, but it sounds more like a grumble. 

“That's what's bothering you?” you snap.

He watches you, pissed, pouting, like a child. 

“Yes.” He says sharply. 

But then his tone shifts, like he can’t believe he needs to explain that. “They walked in,” he shrugs slightly. “They saw something they shouldn’t. That’s all,” he says with a sigh, like he’s so over talking about them.

Your hand curls slightly at your sides. “This matters, Gojo. Not everyone gets to just.. ignore things like this!”

“I know. But I can.”

“But I’m not you!” You’re getting frustrated. He doesn’t get it.

“You think I don’t know how this works?” He raises a brow at you. “I’ll make sure it won’t touch you.” 

“And how exactly are you planning to control that?”

His gaze flicks to you, sharp for just a second. “Don't worry about it.” 

“This is exactly what I mean,” you mutter. “You just… decide things. Like everything bends for you.”

“Not everything.”

You glance back at him.

His gaze is on you again.

“That’s kind of the problem,” he adds, something irritated slips into his tone.

You frown slightly. “What is?”

“You.”

You let out a short, incredulous breath. “You don’t even make sense.”

“It makes sense to me.”

You throw your hands.“Of course it does.” 

He huffs a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair, something in his posture shifting, just slightly.

Less polished. Less effortless.

“You make it difficult,” he says.

“You’re the one who showed up in a bathrobe,” you shoot back immediately.

“Yes, I did. That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?”

There’s a pause.

He looks at you like he’s deciding something.

Like he’s been holding something back, and is getting tired of it. He drags his hand over his face, fingers squeezing his cheeks for a moment. 

“Look,” he starts, exhaling through a crooked, tired smile, “I’m beyond desperate now, obviously, so I’ll just say it clearly.”

You freeze.

“I don’t really get why you fight this so much,” he continues, quieter now. “I can see you’re at least somewhat into this. Into me.”

Your breath catches. The glass feels heavier in your hand.

“I’m not stupid,” he shoots, a little fed up. “I can see it on your face.”

Your instinct is immediate.

Deflect. Deny. Shut it down.

“But you keep pushing me away like I’m some kind of plague,” he finishes, gaze fixed on you. “And I just don’t get it.”

Silence.

Your heart is beating faster than it should.

You hate that he said it out loud.

You look away.

Of course you do.

“That’s not–” you start.

And stop.

Because what are you even going to say?

He watches you.

Doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t fill the silence.

Just let it stretch.

“You don’t get it,” you say finally, quieter now.

“Then explain it to me,” he says simply, not harshly, but something frustrated tints it. 

You shake your head. “It’s not that simple.”

“It could be.”

“It’s not.”

“Why?”

You let out a breath, exasperated, but not at him.

Not entirely.

“This is against so many HR protocols.” 

“I’ll change them.” 

“People will judge me.”

“No one needs to know.”

“Someone always finds out.”

“So I’ll fire them.”

“You can’t do that.”

He raises his brow, like he’s silently asking, ‘Are you kidding me?’ 

“Any more issues you need me to address?” he asks, tone lighter now, like this is some kind of game for him.

He starts walking toward the couches, the city glimmers behind them, glass buildings and sparkling lights. 

You don’t follow. “Stop doing that,” you say.

He pauses, half-turning back to you.

“Doing what?”

“Fixing everything like it’s that easy.”

“It is easy,” he says. Then, after a beat, “For me.”

You don’t reply with words, but an irritated frown paints your face. 

“Yeah,” he says, softer now. “I get that.”

The room falls quiet.

He looks away, exhaling slightly as he sets his glass down, before flopping on the larger couch.

“Come here,” he says, not looking at you.

It’s not a command. But it’s not really a suggestion either.

You hesitate. For obvious reasons. This is not a good move. 

Your brain is still running through consequences, through risks, through everything that could go wrong.

And yet, you move slowly towards him.

Stopping a step away instead of sitting.

A faint smile tugs at his mouth.

“You act like I’m going to bite,” he says.

You squint your eyes at him. “You might.” 

“Tempting.” He smirks.

You glare at him.

He giggles in return, leaning back into the couch, one arm stretched along the backrest like he’s completely at ease again.

He looks up at you, a small smile on his face. “Come on. I’ll play nice.” He pats the cushion beside him. “I swear.” 

You look at his hand, then at him.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter.

“I’ve heard that.”

You don’t move right away.

Something about the way he’s watching you now from below, less teasing, more… patient. It makes it harder than it should be.

“I’m not sitting next to you while you’re like this,” you say, gesturing vaguely at him.

He glances down at himself. “Comfortable?”

“Barely-dressed.”

“I don’t see a problem.” He says as he looks once again down at his bare chest. 

You let out a short breath, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“Yet you’re here.”

“I can still leave,” you say.

His smile drops, and he doesn’t say anything for a moment, breaking the back-and-forth you had.

“Please don’t.” 

It’s the desperation in his voice that makes you nod. You swallow hard as you sit on the same couch as his. Not too close to him, a careful amount of distance between you.

He doesn’t comment on it. Doesn’t close it either.

Just shifts slightly, settling deeper into the couch.

“See?” he says lightly. “That wasn’t so hard.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“No promises.”

You sit in silence for a while, watching the world outside the window. Waiting for your heart and your breath to calm down. 

He leans forward to grab his drink. 

“You haven’t touched your glass,” he comments as he takes a sip. “You don’t like champagne? I can order you something else.” 

You look down at the glass in your hand like it just appeared there out of nowhere. You didn’t even remember that you’re holding it. 

“No, that’s okay.” You shake your head as you raise the glass to your lips. The drink goes down smoothly, the bubbles tingle. It’s good. As expected. 

“Sure?” he asks again. “I have here some other drinks as well.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I like it.” 

“Okay,” he nods. And you think you see him a bit relieved, as he takes a longer sip.  

You watch him for a second.

“You’re weird,” you say.

He glances at you sideways, one brow lifting. “That’s not new.”

“No, I mean–” you shake your head slightly. “You’re acting weird.”

He turns his head a little more toward you, studying your face like you’ve just said something genuinely interesting. “Define weird,” he says finally.

“You’re…” you hesitate, searching. “I don’t know. Paying too much attention if I like my drink? That’s weird.”

He snorts softly. “I always pay attention.”

“Not like this.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like–” you gesture vaguely between you, then give up. “I don’t know. Just–”

He watches you for a second longer. Then, a small smile. 

“Oh,” he says. “You mean I’m being nice for a change.” 

“That’s not what I said.”

“It is what you meant.”

You roll your eyes, taking another sip just to avoid answering.

He shifts slightly beside you, stretching his legs out. He’s really freakishly long. 

“Don’t worry. I don’t mind that. But just so you know, I’m very nice.”

You stifle a laugh, and he turns to you immediately. 

“What’s so funny?” he asks, incredulous.

“I think I can find some people – a lot of people, actually – who’d beg to differ.” And you giggle at his scandalized face. 

“What? Who?” he fully turns to you, leaning sideways on the backrest.

“Like that poor guy with the merging proposal. I don’t think he can recover from that.” 

“He’s just an idiot.” He says dismissively and puffs out air.

“And the team that dared to suggest delaying the due date to allow more adjustments at the site.” 

He frowns as if the mere mention irritates him. “Like I would ever approve this type of bullshit.” 

He clicks his tongue and stands up to bring the bottle from the bar. He sits back down where he was and holds the bottle towards you silently, waiting for you to give him your glass to refill it. Though you only drank half of it. Then, he fills his own empty glass. 

“I just can't deal with incompetent people,” he says as he puts down the bottle. “If you can’t do the job, you shouldn’t be here.”

You hum and take a sip. “I get that.” 

“I don’t need slackers to hold me down.” He sounds genuinely heated. “I just hate it when I need to work with people that I didn’t hire myself,” he adds with a huff.

“You didn’t hire me,” you point out, teasing slipping into your tone. 

“You’re different,” he smiles at that. “That’s why I like you. You take zero bulshit.” 

“Are you trying to sweet-talk me?”

“When am I not?”

You let out a small laugh.

“To be completely honest, I might have threatened to collapse the company when my uncle said he had someone for the head of your department.”

You laugh for real this time. “Collapse the company? Isn’t that a bit excessive?”

“It’s not. I hate stupid people. I told you.”

“What made you change your mind?” You take another sip through a smile.

“Uncle told me to trust him.” 

“And how did that turn out?”

He narrows his eyes at you like you’ve asked something absurd. “Do you really need to ask?”

You lift your shoulders slightly, still holding back a smile.

Then his expression shifts subtly, but noticeably. 

“You know I’m talking about you, right?” he says, a little quieter now, like he’s suddenly unsure you understood him correctly. 

You nod, because you do. And you kind of hate how much you like it.

Because if there’s one thing you know you’re good at, it’s your job. You have plenty of shortcomings—you’re impatient, cold, you work too much, and you don’t really have a life—but you take pride in what you do right. And hearing that acknowledged, especially by someone like him, feels… good. 

Like a quiet pat on the shoulder.

Because, for all his idiocy and general annoyance, Gojo is a big shot. Not just because of his family. He could sit at home, do nothing, and never worry about money or work a day in his life.

When you first met him, that’s exactly what you expected. A placeholder. Someone kept around for appearances, with other people doing the real work behind the scenes. 

But he’s not.

He works. A lot. More than most people you’ve met, actually. 

There are nights you send emails late, long after working hours, expecting to deal with it in the morning, and he replies immediately. Sometimes, even later than that, messages are waiting for you when you wake up.

And no matter what you bring to him, he knows what he’s talking about. Company policy, past projects, stakeholders - he’s already thought three steps ahead.

You hate admitting it, but working on a project is better when he’s involved. 

“What got you all quiet all of a sudden?” he asks, finishing his drink and setting the glass down beside the bottle. 

“Just thinking.” You say, taking another sip. “About work.” 

“You think about work too much.” He claims, looking serious. 

“And you don’t?”

“Not when I finally have time to talk with you.”

“We only talk about work.”

“Ugh, I know it’s the worst,” he sighs. “At the office you’re all–” he straightens a bit, mock seriousness, voice harsh–“‘as per the projections, we should consider—’”

You shove his arm lightly. “Shut up. I do not sound like that.”

He dissolves into giggles. “You absolutely do.”

You shake your head, but there’s a small smile pulling at your mouth.

“And you’re any better?” you shoot back. “Walking around, terrifying everyone?”

“I don’t try to terrify them.”

“That’s worse.”

He laughs quietly at that.

“I just… expect things,” he says with a shrug.

“Yeah,” you say. “Perfection.”

“Not perfection.” He glances at you. “Competence.”

You raise a brow. “That’s a high bar.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

You huff a small laugh. “You’re exhausting.”

“What can I say? I have high stamina.” He says with a smile.

“That is not what I said.”

“Potato patata,” he shrugs. 

You shake your head, taking another sip, trying to ignore him.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. 

He leans forward to grab the bottle, refilling yours without asking, then his glass.

“You know,” you say, almost absently, “that team earlier? The one asking to delay?” 

He glances at you, still holding the bottle. “Yeah?”

“They’re going to try again tomorrow. The Osaka rollout is still behind schedule.”

His expression shifts immediately.

Not sharper.

Just… focused. Like he shifted modes. 

“Oh?” he says, setting the bottle down, and his eyes go back to you immediately. 

You nod slightly. “Logistics on the northern supplier chain. They’re delaying approvals again.”

He exhales through his nose, like he already hates them on principle.

“Of course they are.”

“I think they’re overestimating transport capacity,” you continue, slipping into it more easily now. “If we adjust timing by even three days, we can avoid the bottleneck at the site without affecting--”

“You already ran the model?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

It’s immediate. No hesitation.

You take out your phone, scroll through the data, angling it toward him. He leans in slightly, not too close, just enough to see properly. 

He studies it for a moment. Quietly, intent.

“Yeah,” he says finally. “I think you’re right. Let's schedule a meeting with the suppliers and the logistics team.” 

You’re about to continue, move into the next point, the next adjustment–

When he leans back suddenly, exhaling long and loud.

“Ugh. Can we not talk about work right now?”

“I get you alone,” he says, gesturing rapidly between you, “in my very nice suite–” You narrow your eyes slightly.

“--and you’re still talking about supplier logistics.”

“I didn’t–” you start. 

“I get enough of that in meetings,” he continues, stretching his arms behind his head. “If I hear one more person say ‘synergy’ unironically, I’m terminating someone on the spot.”

“That’s illegal.”

“Maybe.”

You laugh under your breath despite yourself.

He glances at you, satisfied.

“At least try to enjoy the view.” He says with a grin, eyes drifting down. Making sure you know he’s not talking about the view outside. 

“Oh yeah. The city looks pretty at this hour.” 

A beat. He doesn’t even glance at the window. He just looks at you, mouth slightly open.

“…you’re unbelievable,” he says.

You shrug lightly, taking another sip. “You told me to enjoy the view.”

“That’s not the view I meant.”

“I figured.”

“Then why pretend?”

“I’m not just going to give you what you want that easily,” you say, like it’s obvious. 

“When was this supposed to be easy again? Because from what I see, I’m sweating balls, trying every trick I know, and nothing seems to work so far.” 

“Maybe that’s your problem.”

“What is my problem?”

“All these trying, tricks, gimmicks.”

“Oh, so you’re telling me to just be myself?” He smiles as he takes a sip, not waiting for your answer. “Yeah, like the young, hot, billionaire heir act will work on you.” 

He swirls the drink in his glass, still not looking at you as he says, “You’re not the type of woman that this would work on.”

You lift your glass a bit, “You’re not wrong about that.”

He leans toward you slightly, elbow resting on the backrest, glass hanging loose in his hand. “So maybe tell me what would work on you?”

“And ruin all the fun for you?”

He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“You think I’m having fun?” he asks.

You raise a brow. “Aren’t you?”

He tilts his head, studying you like he’s reconsidering that answer.

“I will be,” he says finally.

You narrow your eyes slightly. “Confident.”

“I told you,” he shrugs. “I won’t get tired. High stamina.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling again despite yourself.

He notices.

“You’re enjoying this,” he states.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“This is not the worst.” This is as far as you’re willing to admit. 

“Oh my god, baby! We’re making so much progress.” He says so dramatically that you can’t not laugh at him. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“Oh? Not your thing?” he asks immediately, leaning back, head resting on his palm. 

“Absolutely not.”

“Noted.” He nods seriously. A beat. “What about sweetheart?”

“No.”

“Darling?”

“Worse.”

“Wow,” he whistles. “Tough crowd.”

You take another sip, trying to hide your smile. “Maybe you’re just bad at this.”

He turns to you fully now, one arm draped over the back of the couch.

“I don’t think that’s it,” he says.

“Oh yeah? What is it then?”

“You just like making it difficult for me.”

You hum. “Maybe you deserve it.”

“What for?”

“Just being you.”

He grins. “You mean hot, rich, and charming?”

“Obnoxious, actually.”

“And here I thought I was doing great,” he continues, feigning disappointment. “Got you in my suite, got you laughing–”

“I’m laughing at you.”

“I’ll take it,” he says easily. “Still counts.”

He reaches for the bottle again, but stops midway.

“You’re slowing down,” he notes.

“I’m pacing myself.”

“Good,” he says. “Stay longer.”

“Can you at least try and be subtle about it?” you say.

“Why would I be?”

“Most people don’t just say things like that.”

“I’m not most people,” he shrugs.

“You’re too sure of that,” you murmur.

“Rude,” he mutters.

Then, glancing at you. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

You frown slightly. “Why?”

“Because,” he shrugs, “I know all your work stuff already. That’s boring.”

“It’s not boring.”

“It is.”

“Why would I tell you?”

“If you won’t, I’ll only talk in your meeting voice again.”

“I don’t have a meeting voice.” 

“You sure do.” He smiles and changes his tone again, “If I can have your att–”

“Shut it!” You shove his shoulder this time, actually pushing him back a little. 

He laughs, catching himself on the couch, clearly pleased.

“Fine,” you say. “Something you don’t know…” 

You hesitate, thinking. Then you shrug. “I hate flying.” 

He blinks. “You what?”

“I hate flying.”

“You were completely fine on the plane.”

“I was not,” you scoff. “I just don’t make a scene about it.”

“Huh,” he says. “Didn’t expect that.” 

“Why?”

“You don’t seem to be afraid of anything.”

“Of course I do.”

“That’s very.. Human of you.”

You tilt your head. “Well, I am human.” 

“Apparently,” he giggles. “What else?”

“I gave you one thing.”

“Not enough.”

You sigh, but you can’t say no to him when he looks at you like that.

“I like bad reality shows,” you admit.

He lights up immediately. “No way.”

“Yes.”

“Which ones?”

“Don’t judge me.”

“I’m absolutely judging you.”

You laugh, “Then why would I tell you?” 

“Because I asked,” he says, and he gives you what you believe he thinks is his attempt at puppy eyes. 

Those eyes are more trouble than you expected.

“Love Island,” you answer. Like he knew you would.  

He goes completely still for half a second.

“No way,” he says again, but this time like it’s serious.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t.”

“Which season?” he leans in immediately, way more invested than he should be. “UK? It has to be UK. You don’t seem like a US person.”

You blink at him. “Why do you sound like you have opinions?”

“I do have opinions,” he says, offended. “Answer the question.”

You stare at him.

“Season five…”

He slaps his hand against his knee, looking delighted. “Knew it.”

You squint at him. “You’ve watched it.”

“Obviously.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying,” he insists, leaning closer, eyes lighting up. “I need you to tell me something important–” he lowers his voice slightly, like this is confidential– “what is your stance on the whole Casa Amor situation?”

You choke on a laugh. “Oh my god.”

“Don’t ‘oh my god’ me,” he points at you. “This is serious. It can change everything between us now.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He laughs, but doesn’t deny it.

You roll your eyes, but you play along. “Your turn. Something I don’t know about you.”

He seems to think, or calculate, what he’s going to say. Meanwhile, his hand settles a little more naturally behind you.

Not touching, yet. But close enough that if you leaned back, it would.

And you notice this now, that sometime during the evening, he’s gotten closer. Close enough that if you shifted your leg even slightly, it would touch his.

Then he looks at you again. Not teasing this time, more steady.

“I think you already know that,” he says quietly, and he leans in, slow. “But I’m crazy about you,” he continues, voice lower now. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”  

Your mouth goes dry. You wet your lips without thinking, and his gaze drops to them immediately. Then back to your eyes.

“When you act all cold and sharp,” he murmurs, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “it drives me insane.”

He pulls himself closer. “I love it.”

He leans closer, and he stops for a moment, like he’s giving you one last chance to stop this. 

You don’t. 

Your heart is beating too fast.

You know this is a bad idea.

And you still don’t pull away.

You let him get closer and closer, until his face is almost touching yours.

“Let me take care of you.”

And you let him, as he closes the distance. 

His lips meet yours.

Warm.

Sure.

Not rushed.

Not hesitant either.

For a second, you freeze.

Just feeling it.

Processing.

But before you know it, you kiss him back.

He lets out a soft groan against your lips. He moves his hand, fingers closing on yours. 

He grabs the forgotten glass you still have in your hand. Blindly, putting it on the table. 

And then something shifts.

His hand moves from behind you to your waist, pulling you closer, not rough, but firm enough that there’s almost no space left between you.

You let out a quiet breath against his mouth.

Your hand finds his shoulder, then higher, fingers brushing into his hair.

He hums softly. Pleased.

Very pleased.

You pull back just slightly, barely enough to breathe.

“This is a bad idea,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, not sounding concerned at all.

His thumb brushes lightly against your cheek.

“Really bad.”

“Mmm,” he agrees.

And then he kisses you again, deeper this time.

Less careful.

He leans into you, his hand firm at your waist, keeping you close. His tongue brushes your lips, and you part them, meeting it with yours. 

He exhales softly against your mouth, something between a laugh and a sigh, like he’s not quite believing this is happening.

Your balance shifts as he leans back further into the couch, his back against the backrest, pulling you with him, both hands on your waist now. And you end up half turned toward him, your knee riding up the couch, then sliding against his thigh as you settle. 

Your hand slips from his hair to his shoulder, then down his chest without thinking, and he inhales sharply.

“Yeah,” he mutters softly, more to himself than to you.

You huff a quiet laugh against his mouth, but it melts into another kiss before it fully forms.

Slower this time. Lingering. Less teasing.

There’s a shift in it.

Like you’re both starting to actually get into it instead of just reacting.

His grip tightens slightly at your waist, like he’s holding you in place. 

Then his hands slide from your waist to your hip, to under your thigh. 

Pulling a bit. Without force. Just guiding. 

You get the hint. 

Your knee moves over his lap, your balance shifting as you adjust, one hand bracing against the couch beside his shoulder, and his hands help you find your place. 

A quiet breath leaves him. Half surprise, half satisfaction. 

You settle more comfortably against him, your hands finding his shoulders again, gripping just slightly as you lean down.

He responds immediately.

His hands slide from your waist, slow, deliberate, up along your sides, then back down again. Mapping the curve of your body like he’s memorizing it. 

Your fingers tighten in his hair again, and this time he reacts more visibly, his breath catching, fingers flexing where his hands rest on you. 

His lips get sharper. 

Still controlled. But more persistent. Demanding. 

His hands pull you a little closer, arching your back toward him.

Your hands travel down from his hair again, over his shoulder, across his chest, snicking under the robe, feeling the tension there. He exhales softly at the contact, head tipping back just slightly before he catches your mouth again. 

You move from his pecks to his biceps, nails digging in the firm flesh for a moment.

And he retaliates by catching your lip with his teeth, giving it a small bite, before releasing.

He trails down to your jaw and moves down to your neck. Peppering small kisses along the way, stopping every few inches to give the skin there an open-mouthed kiss. 

You lean your head to the side, giving him more access. A breathy exhale leaves your lips, and you scratch lightly up and down his biceps under the robe as you feel them flex. He moves you a bit, adjusting your position on top of him. Adjusting himself as well.

He lets out a shaky breath as his arms circle your middle. And he settles his head in the crook of your neck. Breathing you in. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, resting your head on top of his. 

And you stay there, neither of you moves nor says anything for a long moment. 

You enjoy this, even if you know the bubble will burst eventually, you just let yourself be in this moment.

 He under you, you in his arms. 

Breath slowing down, getting in sync. 

“This is nice,” he murmurs into your skin. 

When you don’t say anything in return, he pulls back. Eyes burning into you.

“This is nice,” he repeats, looking at you as he awaits your response. 

You giggle at him. “It is.” 

And you can see him visibly relieved. 

The fact that he’s only in his robe and you're very much perched on top of his lap comes to your mind. And you make a move to wiggle out of there. 

He doesn’t let you. His arms tighten around you, looking at you like he's offended you tried to go away. 

“You’re troublesome,” you murmur with a smile, no bite left in you, pulling back just enough to look at him.

He smiles, soft, a little crooked.

“You came to my room,” he points out. “What did you expect?” 

“You showed up half-naked to mine.”

“Fair,” he concedes easily.

A quiet beat settles between you again.

Not awkward.

His hands are still resting at your waist, thumbs moving absently.

“You said you were going to take a bath.” 

You blink. “…what?”

“Your plans,” he clarifies, tilting his head slightly, watching your reaction. “You said you were going to take a bath.”

Oh.

Right.

Well, that was the plan… But look where you are now…

You let out a small breath, half-laugh. “Yeah. Before you invaded my room.”

“I didn’t invade,” he says mildly. “I was invited.”

“You were not.”

He shrugs, as if to say he doesn’t care right now.

His fingers press a little more firmly at your waist.

“Anyway,” he continues, like this is a completely normal train of thought, “you still can.”

Your eyes narrow slightly. “I can?”

He nods with too much force, his hair flying around, tickling your face. And you can see in his eyes that he’s scheming something.

You blink. “Here?”

“Why not?”

You let out a short, disbelieving breath. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

“You just invite people into your suite to take baths?”

“Just you,” he says with a wink.

“If you won’t, I might.” He adds, and it sounds too planned.

“Aren’t you going to be all chummy and say that you’ll join me?” you tease him. You know it’s a dangerous game. 

“You want me that bad, baby?”

You stare at him. “You’re insane.”

“I’ve been told.”

“You just–” you gesture vaguely between the two of you, still very much on his lap. Not really sure what you’re trying to say.

“Yes.” There’s not even a hint of hesitation in his voice. 

You let out a disbelieving laugh. 

Then his hands shift slightly at your waist, adjusting you more comfortably against him. 

“Come on,” he says. “Let me give you a tour, at least.”

He leans in just slightly, just close enough that you feel it.

“I have a better tub,” he adds.

And with that, he shifts up onto his feet, pulling you up with him in one smooth motion.

You let out a startled sound, hands immediately grabbing onto his shoulders for balance.

“Gojo!” 

He laughs under his breath, clearly pleased with himself, and he wraps your legs around his waist. 

His hand shifts slightly against your thigh, adjusting his hold, as the other slides firmly around your back, securing you against him. 

“Relax,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.” And he starts moving toward the bathroom. 

“Gojo.”

“No.”

“Gojo.”

“Almost there.”

Back to series masterlist

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[likecatie]

ooooh now you got me hooked!! i’m definitely eager to see what’s going to happen 👀 this gojo—even though he’s very much trouble—is absolutely hot!! 🔥 this was really good, love & i can’t wait to read the next part 💕

[wintrbears]

The Wife Trap: Part I | JJK

Summary: There are two boys but only one girl, leaving Jungkook hopelessly in love with someone he can never have, and doesn't want to have, because that would mean taking you away from the person he loves most. Then suddenly there’s only one boy and one girl, but it's the wrong one.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Jungkook’s Twin x Reader, (Slight) Jungkook x Jennie

Genre: Twins AU, Unrequited Love, Brother-in-Law/Friends to Lovers?, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Slow-Burn, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 28.9k

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. I’M SERIOUS. major character death, intense grief, depression, suicidal ideation, vehicular accident, dead body, injuries, medical jargon, self-harm (not by definition — he gives himself a cut for appearances), hospital, nurses, doctors, fear, anxiety, panic attack, crying, funeral, mention of burial, planning funeral arrangements, mention of morgue, funeral home, casket, headstone, obituary, unrequited love, self-hatred, unhealthy coping mechanisms, drinking, bars, business jargon, mentions of wealth, jealousy, secrets, wedding, high school and college, exams, work, public speaking, insecurity, lying, manipulating, betrayal, violation, misogyny 😔, twins, trading places, tricking people, drunkenness, rudeness, depressive inner monologue, yearning, dub-con (I’m not sure if this counts — she consents to the acts but is unaware of his real identity), kissing, touching, titty fondling, cuddling, and that’s all!

Author's Note: guys I don’t know what demon possessed me when I wrote this but I worry I might be a sadist. this shit is SO sad and so dark. I really caution you to read all the warnings if there are topics which can easily trigger you. you might need therapy after this one, lord knows Jungkook needs some. and a lot of it!! he does not make good decisions in this fic and I don’t condone any of his actions. he’s the definition of morally ambiguous so hopefully you all vibe with that. also I know nothing about science or physics so if there are any inaccuracies, mind ya business lmao. I personally love this story despite it being so heavy, because it’s got so much heart, and I hope you all will too. ILY :)

-> The Wife Trap Masterpost

Jungkook and Jaehyun trade places often, which is coincidentally how Jungkook ends up meeting you for the first time. 

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?” 

“Becaus 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. 

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[wintrbears]

The Wife Trap: Part I continued...

The morning of the funeral arrives faster than anyone can wrap their head around. It’s been non-stop planning and sorting through photos or paperwork for a straight week, but it was honestly a great distraction. 

Now it’s time to face the music and say the final goodbye no one’s looking forward to. 

It’s different for Jungkook compared to everyone else. Not only because it’s his twin who died, but because he’s the only one aware the person they’re eulogizing is Jaehyun. Ironically, after days of discussing his own funeral, a part of him almost forgot he isn’t the one getting buried six feet under. 

Especially because he’s been living in Jaehyun’s skin at home with you for a full seven days and each one is easier than the last. Loving you is effortless, as it always has been, and it’s also the only reason he made it through. 

A couple hours before the funeral, you’re combing gel through his hair with your fingers since Jungkook still doesn’t have the courage to look in the mirror. His eyes map your visage while you work as his hands rest loosely on your hips. He keeps rhythmically tapping the sliver of skin beneath your top, making you smirk each time. 

“I wish you could see yourself,” you note. “You’re so stupidly handsome it makes me sick.”

He chuckles.

“Maybe later today. I think getting over this hurdle will help a lot,” he muses.

“I hope so.”

“What about you? I feel like we’ve been so busy we haven’t even had time to check in with each other.”

You nod in agreement at the same time you step back to survey his finished hair. 

“I’ve, uh, been pretty much burying my feelings and saving them all for today,” you confess.

“Baby —” 

“I know, okay? But if I’d actually allowed myself to feel everything, I never would’ve survived the week.” Jungkook steals your hand to soothingly run his thumb across your knuckles while you gather your thoughts. “I just miss him so fucking much,” you whimper. 

There are tears lying in wait in your eyes, but none fall just yet. 

“Me, too,” Jungkook sighs. 

“Every time I think something won’t remind me of him, it somehow does. My recipe book, the color black, rainy days… fucking bunnies.” The two of you share a dry laugh. “It’s like he’s everywhere but here.”

As Jungkook watches the immense grief contort your features, an idea sparks in his mind.

“Close your eyes,” he quietly instructs.

“What?”

“Just trust me.” 

Following a questioning glance, you take a deep breath and do as he asks. 

“Do you remember what I said? About us both being in this body with me?” After a tentative nod, Jungkook rests your hand over his heart. “Just picture Kook, yeah? Not me. Right in front of you.” 

“Oh… okay,” you breathe. 

He admires you for a moment before slowly inhaling.

“You feel that heartbeat?” 

“Mmhm.”

Jungkook squeezes your hand.

“That’s me. I’m right here, Cupcake. I’ll always be here. I promise.”

A single beat passes before a gut wrenching sob forces you forward until you crash into him, throwing your arms around his neck while you soak his shirt in pure sadness. 

“Jungkook,” you cry, almost too softly to hear. 

He doesn’t think you’re saying his name as a response to his words, but more like your voice is joining your eyes in releasing all the pent up emotions. 

His own limbs cradle you to his chest as one hand holds the back of your head and the other travels up and down your spine. 

“Shh, it’s alright,” he whispers with his lips pressed to your temple. “Just let it all out, okay? You don’t have to be strong for anyone.” 

Neither of you know how long you stay like that; tangled together while you weep in his arms. It’s not as though Jungkook minds. He’ll hold you forever if that’s what’ll heal your heart. 

Once you do part, he assures you he can do that whenever and however often you want or need. Ironically, you respond by asking him how it felt to call you Cupcake, since Jaehyun never uses that nickname.

Immediate family all come to the funeral home an hour early for a private farewell before everyone else arrives. It’s unanimously agreed that you and Jungkook will go last, right after his parents. So you two wait in a quiet, cozy room for your turn. 

His parents emerge following their time looking rightfully sorrowful and you both instantly hold your breath in anxious anticipation. Jungkook isn’t sure who does it first, but you also squeeze one another’s hands as a source of comfort at the exact same moment.

“Are you sure you want me to come with you? I’m more than happy to give you some alone time,” Jungkook asks. 

You shake your head, your eyes locked on the door to the private room. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it by myself.” 

“Alright.” He reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, causing you to glance his way for the first time. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

After a hesitant nod, you and Jungkook stand up together and enter the room hand in hand. 

Once the door shuts, you turn into a statue with wide, petrified eyes. Unlike Jungkook, who obviously saw his brother at the hospital and again earlier this week when he came with his parents to speak with the funeral director, you’ve yet to see him.

Jaehyun, that is. Not that you’re aware. 

Your breathing’s shaky and so are the fingers threaded between Jungkook’s. He wishes he could do something, anything to make things easier for you, but this is an obstacle you have to overcome on your own.

“Does he look like himself?”

“Mmhm. You can’t even tell he was in an accident.” 

This isn’t the first dead body you’ve seen. He knows because he and Jaehyun accompanied you to both your grandparents’ funerals growing up. Alas, he understands there's no comparison to a situation such as this. 

You surprise him by taking a single step forward, enough to see Jaehyun’s silhouette. 

“I’ll, uh, go up by myself and let you know if I need you. Is that okay?” 

Jungkook nods.

“Of course.” 

In all honesty, he’s nervous, too, because he knows it’ll be almost impossible to see you hurting without being able to stop it.

His hand remains intertwined with your own until you’re too far away to keep holding on. Upon reaching the casket, the sound you produce is a cross between a gasp and a tormented whimper. Your fingers latch onto the edge like it’ll somehow ease the pain, but you both know it won’t. 

“Oh, Kookie,” you cry as your head dips to rest on the wood. 

Loud sobs begin to rattle your chest and it takes all of Jungkook’s strength not to move to comfort you. It also unexpectedly gives him pause. 

For the first time since he took his brother’s place, watching you cry over Jaehyun’s body makes him wonder if it was the right choice. Throughout the week, everything you, him, and his parents spoke about was only theoretical. Planning his funeral, choosing a casket, and designing a headstone were all just ideas he could wrap his head around. 

But now you’re in front of the man you’ve loved since you were fifteen and you have no idea. You’re heartbroken and grieving, but your tears are being used for the wrong person. It feels sinister for Jungkook to be standing behind you while you weep over him when Jaehyun’s lying inches away from you. 

On the flip side, the sound of you choking on air and whining like you’re physically injured reaffirms his decision. If this is your reaction to Jungkook’s death, he can’t even fathom what it would be if you knew the truth. 

You look up after a little while, once your sobs become quiet whimpers. It seems like you’re admiring Jaehyun, which Jungkook hopes means you’re steadily starting to cope.

After inhaling to catch your breath, you reach up so you can fix a couple pieces of displaced hair on his forehead. 

“Do you remember when we met?” You ask while grasping one of his hands. “You were so surprised I immediately noticed you weren’t Jaehyun. It was the first time I got to see that adorable, shocked face you make. You know the one where your eyes look like they’ll pop right out of your head?” You chuckle. “I couldn’t believe how different you and Jae were. I mean, Jae’s always been like water to me; soothing, calm. So I expected you to be somewhat similar, but you were all fire, Kookie. Not a roaring, uncontrollable flame, but a hearth. You were comforting, warm, and made every room you entered brighter.” You thoughtfully sigh before clicking your tongue. “And I know you were flirting with me that day. Which, when I think about it, is actually pretty sweet considering you were doing reconnaissance for Jae. It was a test, right? Because if I flirted back, then clearly I wasn’t the right woman for your brother.” Your head falls forward as you scoff. “I don’t even know where I’m fucking going with this. I just… I guess what I’m trying to say is every moment with you meant something to me, Jungkook. Every second we spent together was special and I’ll never forget a single one. Not for as long as I live.” A sudden, harsh cry leaves your lips. “I love you,” you wail. “Jungkook, I love you so much, and I’m not ready to say goodbye. If you could just… just call me Cupcake one more time, then everything would be okay. Please, Kookie, I just need to hear you say it one last time. Or see that shocked expression or your good food face. I mean, who’s going to eat the extra desserts I make if you aren't there?” You press your forehead to your conjoined hands. “I’ll still do it, anyway,” you softly announce. “I’ll bake half a dozen more than every recipe calls for even though you won’t be there to eat them. Because whether or not you are, they were always meant for you and you alone.” 

You lift your head again and spend a second taking some deep breaths to calm yourself before leaning over to give him a gentle forehead kiss. Then you return his hand to its previous position on his stomach and slowly back away. 

When you turn around, you find Jungkook in the same spot you left him. Except he’s covering his mouth to quiet his brutal cries. His eyes are also squeezed shut as salty tears cascade down his cheeks.

“Honey?”

He makes a noise of acknowledgement while shaking his head, which he hopes you interpret correctly as him being okay. To be fair, he isn’t even close to alright, but he doesn’t want you to know that. 

Your words cut through him like a knife, leaving him feeling torn to shreds and raw. He’s loved you so fiercely for so long, and although it isn’t romantic, your love for him is clearly just as reverent. You’ve told him what he means to you countless times, but this was something so profound his heart couldn’t handle the weight of it. 

“Jaehyun,” you call while moving closer so you can pull his hand away and cradle his face instead. “Talk to me.”

“I…” Jungkook’s still crying, but he tries to focus on explaining. “That was so beautiful, Y/N. I just wish we could all stay together like we were meant to; for the rest of our lives.”

Your fingers lightly graze his cheeks to wipe away any tears. 

“It’s like you said, we will be. Just maybe not how we originally hoped.” He nods and sends you his best attempt at a smile. “I’ll go so you can talk to him in private?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

You dismiss his gratitude with a head shake before exiting out the door behind him. 

With only him inside the room, the energy’s completely different. Not only because he’s alone with his brother, but because he’s the only person saying goodbye to Jaehyun today instead of Jungkook. The truth leaves a heavier aura in the atmosphere than with the previous visitors. 

He walks towards the casket with much more ease than you, given this is his second encounter with Jaehyun since the accident. He’s also always comfortable being around his twin no matter the circumstances, agony and grief be damned.

Jungkook believes it’s partially due to their deep, inherent bond, but also because he views the situation like he told you before. He’s carrying both their souls inside his body now, which makes living as Jaehyun that much easier. 

Of course, Jungkook knows it’s not literal, and that he’s only playing pretend with you and everyone else. But if it helps him and his loved ones cope, is it so wrong?

“Hey, Jae,” he greets his brother. “Look, I know letting Y/N express her feelings for me just now instead of you was fucked up. I understand doing any of this is morally abhorrent, invasive, and a complete betrayal of trust. I get all of that and I’m so fucking sorry. But I don’t know what else to do.” He shakes his head with a scoff. “The world needs you in it, not me. I know people will miss me, but it isn’t the same. I own a dive bar while you run a company that spreads innovative technology all across the globe. Our family company, as a matter of fact, which without you would have no connection to us anymore. I’ve never had a single serious relationship, but you have the most amazing, loving wife in existence. I mean, this is the only thing that makes sense to me, Jae.” Following a long sigh, he rests a hand on top of his brother’s. “You have every right to be angry with me and if you wanna kick my ass as soon as I join you up there, by all means. I just hope you know I’m not doing this because of my feelings for Y/N. I do love her and I always have, but I was content going my whole life without ever having her like that. You’re the only one who deserves her and that’s why I have to keep you alive.” 

He pauses to squeeze Jaehyun’s hand while his eyes map every aspect of his face. Even though it’s identical to his own, he wants to remember everything about his brother down to the most minute detail. 

This is the last time he’ll ever see him besides the mirror and that thought alone constricts his airway. Per usual, tears well up in his eyes before he even begins his final farewell. 

“Jae, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to turn back the clock so I could be the one who saw the crash coming. If it were possible, I would literally trade places with you and hop inside this casket right now. The funeral staff can bury me alive for all I care. I’d let the semi-truck hit me at full speed exactly as I stand if it meant bringing you back. But none of that’s possible and that means… it means this is goodbye.” His voice breaks over the last word as his cries grow louder and more forceful. “There isn’t a single second of the day when I won’t think of you. There isn’t a sunrise or starry night I’ll witness and not see you in. You weren’t just my other half. Hell, you weren’t even just my best friend. You were the most amazing person to ever walk this earth. Maybe that’s why this happened… because you were just too good to live among the rest of us.” He has to stop again so he can catch his breath, but it’s still practically useless. “I can’t thank you enough for being the best brother in the world. You didn’t have to be and yet you always made sure you were. And I hope I was able to reciprocate even a fraction of that throughout our time together.” Before continuing, he readjusts his grip so he’s holding his twin’s hand. “I love you so fucking much, Jaehyun. I’ll miss you everyday for the rest of my life, but I promise no one else will have to bear that weight but me.” His head drops to plant a kiss on Jaehyun’s knuckles. “I’ll see you on the other side, okay? Save me a seat.”

After letting his heart, mind, and body relax by focusing on his breathing and drying his face with his sleeve, he returns Jaehyun’s hand to his stomach.

He walks backwards across the room so he can see him until the very last second before pausing in front of the exit. 

“Goodbye, brother.” 

With a final glance, he steps out of the room and shuts his eyes until he hears the soft click of the lock. That mundane, simple sound means his twin is truly gone. In a few minutes the funeral director will close his casket and that’s all Jungkook will see of Jaehyun until he’s buried underground. 

Although this week was a test run, his new life as Jeon Jaehyun officially begins now. 

As if the universe is confirming his thoughts, the first thing he sees upon opening his eyes again is you standing by the entrance with some family members. He approaches without a word, allowing his hand on your lower back to alert you of his presence. 

You jump a little when you feel his fingers on your spine and look over your shoulder to investigate. When you realize it’s him, your eyes grow wide and you spin around to give him your full attention.

“How are you doing?”

Jungkook smiles just a hair and nods.

“I’m okay, baby.” Your eyebrows rise in suspicion, so he reaches out to smooth the fresh crease on your forehead. “I mean it.”

It looks like you still don’t believe him when you begin pouting, but Jungkook ignores the expression and takes your hand so you can stand side by side to greet everyone.

The funeral is a gauntlet, to say the least, but it’s also a beautiful service and more people than Jungkook can even comprehend show up. It’s certainly bizarre being eulogized and mourned all day long, but it also helps trick his brain into playing the correct role. 

Jennie comes, of course, but thankfully still seems apprehensive about being around him and they only exchange brief pleasantries while she offers her condolences. He hopes one day they can form some type of relationship, even if it’ll never be what it was when he was himself. 

His parents both give wonderful eulogies that bring everyone to tears, and the two speeches conclude the funeral on a heartfelt, bittersweet note. 

By the time the burial’s over, Jungkook’s beyond exhausted and all he wants is to be home with you in your nice, cozy bed. You must feel the same because you fall asleep on his shoulder while his parents drive you back to the house. 

Upon arriving, Jungkook kisses your head and whispers your name to wake you. Your eyes gradually blink open, but you’re still half asleep when you glance over at him. 

“C’mon, baby. We’re home,” he informs you.

“Oh,” you drowsily chirp. “That was quick.”

Jungkook chuckles.

“Yeah, you would think that if you slept the entire time.” 

You shoot him an overdramatic glare as you two slide out of the car and wave goodbye to his parents. 

He leads you by the hand to the house before opening the door and gesturing for you to enter first. You two immediately begin your nightly routines, with you moseying into the only bathroom with an uncovered mirror to remove your makeup. 

Jungkook’s yet to allow himself to see you without clothes on, although you’ve seen him shirtless a few times. He figured you won’t notice him not being around while you get undressed, but it’d be strange for you to go multiple days in a row without seeing him. 

Tonight he’s too tired to even think about it, hence him getting his first ever glimpse of you naked after you return from the bathroom. 

While he’s busy unbuttoning his shirt, you stroll in behind him and unzip your dress before letting it pool on the floor at your feet. Jungkook’s too focused on his own task to notice, so when he turns around and sees you in only your underwear, it stops him in his tracks.

His fingers stall with a couple buttons still left, his eyes fly open into even bigger saucer’s than normal, and his mouth becomes a desert. 

Obviously, you notice the reaction, because Jaehyun’s seen you naked thousands of times over the years. This shouldn’t be anything new for him. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

It takes Jungkook’s brain a moment to kickstart back to life, but he eventually snaps out of the hypnosis. 

“I, uh, so — sorry,” he stutters. “I think it’s just been a long day.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you counter. “It just looked like you’ve never seen a woman before for a second there.”

He laughs while his hands finish undoing his shirt. 

“That’s because sometimes I forget how fucking breathtaking you are.”

A pretty, pink blush appears on your cheeks that nearly halts Jungkook’s heart. 

“You wanna remind yourself?” His blood immediately runs cold and you must see him go stiff because you elaborate a moment later. “I didn’t… I am not implying we should have sex on the day of your brother’s funeral, I just meant —”

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he assures you. After a brief silence, Jungkook realizes he doesn’t have the willpower to reject your offer. Besides, if this is supposed to be forever, he’s going to need to familiarize himself with your body at some point. “C’mere.”

You close the gap in an instant, leaving Jungkook holding his breath. But despite his mind going haywire over finally witnessing the sight he’s longed for since he was a teenager, he rests his hands on your hips. 

That simple touch produces a massive sigh of relief, as though his fingers belong on you and are celebrating being home. His eyes follow the movement as he slowly caresses your waist and ribs, traveling up your body at a snail's pace so he can appreciate the skin he’s never had the honor of feeling before.

He skips your breast for now, letting his hands land on your shoulders before sliding them up and down your arms. You hum in content and even close your eyes when he traces along your collarbones and neck. Upon realizing how much you enjoy the sensation, he repeats the motion and applies more pressure to soothe any aches or pains. 

The blissful smile on your lips almost distracts Jungkook from the fact he’s actually touching you. He’s dreamed about this more times than he can count and it’s even more exquisite than in his imagination. Eventually, his eyes drop from your face to your breasts and he holds his breath again while trailing his fingers down until he’s able to cup them in his hands. 

“Oh,” you softly moan as your head tips back. 

Your reaction’s a good thing, otherwise you’d notice Jungkook’s eyes practically bulging out of his head while he bites his lip to refrain from making any noise himself. 

He stares like he’s in a trance at how your skin moves beneath his fingers while he massages and squeezes your tits. They’re just as perfect as he always assumed; round, plump, and so damn soft. 

Your whole body’s a masterpiece. Even without being as thin or smooth as you were when you were younger, with stretch marks, scars, and extra skin you wish would disappear. None of it changes how perfect every curve and line is. 

“You are…” He can’t help but let out a disbelieving laugh. “So insanely beautiful.” 

His compliment makes you giggle as your eyes open again. 

“You having fun? Some boobie therapy just what the doctor ordered?”

Jungkook loses it, throwing his head back with a loud laugh that vibrates his sternum.

“And if they prescribed me some for everyday use, would you indulge that request?” 

“Mmm, you might have to pay a pretty hefty copay, but I think it could be arranged.” 

If his heart could beat any louder, it would sound like a drum. You light up every situation no matter how dark and Jungkook truly can’t imagine surviving a single day without you.

“I love you,” he professes.

A stunning smile appears before him.

“And I love you.”

He wants to kiss you more than he’s ever wanted something in his life, but neither of you are wearing enough clothes to even attempt it. So, he drops his hands before passing you your pajamas on the bed.

“Thank you. Sometimes all I need is to just feel you.” 

“Anytime,” you reply with a wink.

While you throw on your favorite nighttime set, Jungkook ventures into the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed. 

The brown parchment paper covering the mirrors is staring at him while he brushes his teeth and although it was previously comforting, it seems to be taunting him tonight. 

His brother’s buried and he’s already said goodbye, and he certainly can’t avoid his own face forever. 

Without giving his brain time to convince him out of it, he pulls at the tape on the bottom corner where your note is. He gently tugs until there’s enough to rip the section off so he can keep it. Once the small square’s safe in a drawer, he throws caution to the wind and rips the rest off in one swoop. 

Despite finding the courage to remove your handiwork, his eyes remain closed rather than facing himself right away. After what feels like an eternity, he inhales and counts down from ten. Then he exhales and opens his eyes.

Jungkook doesn’t really know what he was expecting, but the person in the mirror is just… him. The only discernable difference is his hair’s pushed back how Jaehyun wore it and his fresh cut’s on display since it’s healed enough to not need a bandage. 

He finds himself twisting and turning in front of the glass like perhaps the man will move separately, but that never happens. 

“Alright,” he whispers to himself while maintaining eye contact with the man in the mirror. “Hi, Jae.”

It isn’t nearly as terrifying as he predicted. That’s not to say his heart doesn’t hurt seeing his reflection, but he isn’t running away or hiding like he worried he would. 

“Honey,” you muse from behind the door.

Jungkook’s about to answer when a burst of light shines in as you appear in the doorway. You gasp upon noticing the parchment paper is gone, but once you realize it was intentional, your eyes expectantly flicker towards Jungkook. 

“I did it!” He cheers.

You giggle with a proud smile. 

“You did it!” The accomplishment clearly means a lot to you because you throw your hands above your head like your favorite team just scored a goal. “How do you feel?” 

“Like I’m looking in the mirror, surprisingly enough,” he quips. 

An affectionate eye roll serves as your initial reply while you step closer to him. 

“Well, I’m very proud of you.” 

“Thank you, baby. I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

You shrug your shoulders with an adorable grin that makes Jungkook wanna squish your cheeks and never let go. 

“Now, c’mon. Your baby’s tired,” you complain before snatching his hand. 

Jungkook follows you without another word, but then a thought appears in his head he just can’t shake. It spawned earlier and he managed to resist, but you’re both clothed now besides his open shirt. It might still be difficult refraining from taking things too far, but he’s willing to risk it.

He’s wanted to kiss you since the moment he walked into your classroom in high school and he doesn’t believe he has the wherewithal to hold back anymore. 

“Y/N,” he calls to stop you. 

You hum in acknowledgment and start to turn around, but Jungkook surges forward before you even fully face him. 

His hands grasp either side of your head and sink into your hair at the same time his lips smash into your own. The unexpected action causes you to squeak as your fingers wrap around his wrists to steady yourself. But kissing your husband is commonplace and you quickly synchronize your mouth with Jungkook’s. 

Meanwhile, Jungkook has to work off pure muscle memory because his brain’s screaming and running around like someone set it on fire. He can’t even begin to comprehend that he’s finally kissing you after all these years, something he never thought he’d have a chance to do. 

Your lips taste and feel exactly how he always pictured; soft, moist, warm, and sweet like the treats you bake. He moves his mouth with utmost intention, but also achingly slow so he can memorize every sensation. Despite the pace, the kiss is desperate and passionate as his fingers cradle your scalp like you might disappear. 

“Jae,” you gasp between smooches, but Jungkook doesn’t let up for a second. 

In fact, he uses his grip to crane your neck so he can continue devouring you. His tongue slips in between your teeth and you moan as the muscle circles your mouth. You don’t even utilize your own to fight back, instead letting him conquer you entirely. 

“I fucking love you,” he whispers before twisting his head in the opposite direction and repeating the same motions.

Hearing such a proclamation mid-makeout has you giggling, but you manage to keep up with his fervor. But then the sound elicits a smile from Jungkook as well, and suddenly the steamy kiss turns clunky when your teeth clash and lips miss their targets.

Jungkook stops following a deep, content sigh, but leaves his forehead against your own while catching his breath. 

“Took you long enough,” you tease.

A joyful grin overtakes his face.

“I’m sorry for neglecting you, baby. I assure you it’ll never happen again.” 

“It’s alright if it does, as long as you kiss me like that after.” 

Rather than responding, he steals another smooch before you both step back. 

There’s clearly been a shift with the funeral behind him, just as he hoped. In contrast to merely oscillating around you at a safe distance, he’s standing chest to chest with you now. 

This is the life he chose the moment he said his brother's name instead of his own and there’s no point in holding back when he’s already jumped off the deep end. That’s doesn’t mean he’s going to make love to you tomorrow or act perfectly comfortable in Jaehyun’s skin right away, but the sooner he believes his own lie, the easier everything else becomes.

-> Part II

Permanent Taglist continued: @svnk1ssd @noookiiieee @sslaira @hoofymalone @jooniesreal1 @jjkszn @pinklasagna04 @mar-lo-pap @imjustcrabby @applerpi @sadiayn @dim18 @irenaisboring @songbyeonkim @smilyoongi @cupcakkesvagina @chimcake @mninotjungkook @m4aimm @misshale21 @jungkookslefttesticle @coletaehyung @bo-rimmy @moonprincesskoo @spenceatiny18 @itssskimiiii @psychicdazestrawberry @urmotherlvr @mikrokookiex @shynotded @yoanalovesyouuu @nayaheartskth @aurorraaaa @allthoughtsmindfull @bjoriis @luvjimii @gaylittleboi69 @audreyny @dasweetestgirlintown @matchacake2 @hoemeprazole @hyyhwriter @whoa-jo @chaostudee @akl3223 @bobathi @jkgivinsleeplessnites @dna-black-and-blue @nikkinikj @connnn

[spideyjimin]

sooooooooooooooo, here goes my little review after reading this masterpiece & i'll put it below the cut thingy to avoid spoiling anyone who might want to read it (little spoiler alert: this fic isn't for the weakest 🫠)

ALYSSA!!!! you've broken my fragile little heart and run over it again and again! tbh i don't know what i was expecting but for sure, it wasn't this... as i have a sister i'm very closed to, every scene after jae's death made me cry like a baby because it was too heartbreaking to picture it and damn, it was painful to read how jungkook feels after losing his twin brother 💔 i haven't cried this much in years while reading something so it just proves how damn talented you are!! also losing people i was close to made it honestly hard to read, especially the funeral part... 💔

now honestly, i'm wondering if oc didn't recognize that it's jungkook 🤔 if she instantly noticed it when they switched places years ago, it would be weird if she doesn't now, especially since they've been together for fifteen years and she grew up with both of them. maybe jungkook's very good at taking his brother's place, but i guess that in the long run he won't be able to keep hiding it from her forever (at least that's my perspective), but in any case, i'm just curious to see how this will keep going 🤗

this is genuinely one of the best things i've read lately and i'm not even sure i'll survive the next part if it is as intense as this first one! thank you for writing this and sharing it with all of us even if it's devastatingly heartbreaking, but it just shows how talented and brilliant you are! i'm here for the next two parts, you have me hooked!! 💖

p.s.: some years ago i stumbled upon a similar kind of fic but it was wayyyy too dark (if i remember correctly, jungkook took his brother's place selfishly and honestly, he wasn't a great guy at all), and i never finished reading it, but anyway, your fic is just soo great so far!! thanks again for creating this masterpiece!! 💖

[kooppss]

To Whom It May Concern (This Is An HR Violation) - Part 1

Gorgeous art by @3-aem on tumblr and twitter

You are fighting for your life to finalize the Osaka project logistics. Gojo Saturo is fighting to get you to look at him. So he shows up at your hotel room door, determined to ruin your professional reputation, with champagne, zero boundaries, and a very inappropriate bathrobe. 

Series Masterlist

genre: rich heir Gojo x reader, coky billionaire very on brand Gojo, cold-ish reader, office AU, coworkers to lovers (?), workplace romance (?), he fell first and harder, hotel room shenanigans, bath shenanigans, HR is crying, mutual pining (over her dead body).

warnings: semi-toxic relationship, inappropriate workplace behavior, Gojo is full of red flags if anyone behaves like that- run away, sexual activity of various types, also in a bath. also, a lot of nonsense business/corporate talk that makes no sense.

word count: 2.5k

a/n: almost three months since I last posted something... we can say it's been long overdue. Hopefully, this marks the return of me writing ☺️ This part is the shortest, an introduction to them and their dynamics. The next part is ready and will probably be out next week. Have fun and have a lovely weekend 🥰

The first time you realize something is wrong is when no one stops you on your way to his office.

That alone should’ve been a warning.

Normally, getting anywhere near the executive floor required at least two approvals, one polite interrogation, and a lingering sense that you didn’t belong there. 

But for you, though, the assistant at the front desk barely glances up when you give your name.

“Go ahead,” she says, like this is routine.

It’s kinda is at this point. 

You hesitate for half a second outside the door, large, polished, dark wood, intimidating in that effortless, expensive way everything up here is.

Then, from inside, before you get to knock–

“Come in.”

You push the door open and step into the office of Gojo Satoru.

Floor-to-ceiling windows. Minimalist decor. A desk that probably costs more than your rent for a year. It smells like wood, and leather, and clean linen, and..

And him. Leaning back in his chair like he owns not just the room, but the entire building.

Which, technically, he kind of does. Well, his grandpa does. 

He looks up when you enter.

And then he smiles.

It’s immediate. Unfiltered. Like he’s been waiting for this.

“Well,” he says, voice light, almost indulgent. “This is a surprise.”

You blink, a bit confused. “I had a meeting scheduled.”

“I know,” His smile stretches just slightly. “Still a surprise.”

“A good one,” he adds quickly. Too quickly, too childish for this whole setting. 

You clear your throat, stepping forward with your tablet clutched just a little tighter than necessary. “I wanted to go over the projections for the Osaka branch before the trip.”

“Mm.” He gestures lazily to the chair across from him. “Sit.”

You do.

You start talking.

Numbers, forecasts, timelines - things you know. Things you’re good at. Fuck that, things that you excel at. This is why they hired you.

But it’s… difficult.

Because he’s watching you.

Not in the distracted, half-listening, one-eye-on-their-phone way most executives do. Not even in the sharp, critical way he watches other employees in meetings.

No, this is different.

Focused.

Interested.

Happy.

Like you’re saying something far more entertaining than quarterly projections.

You falter, just for a second.

His smile widens.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he says. “I’m enjoying this.”

“…the report?” you ask, skeptical, narrowing your eyes slightly.

“Oh, yeah,” he says like it’s a joke. “Among other things.” He adds low, like a whispered confession.

You stare at him.

He doesn’t look away.

Something warm, and dangerously close to flustered, creeps up your neck. But you shake it off. 

Like you always do with him. 

Because this is not why you were hired. 

Just to clear things up – he hasn’t interviewed you, you haven’t even met him till months after you started working here. It was a connection you had, who knew his uncle, and recommended you for the job. This whole - whatever this is - was not part of your way in this company. And definitely not how you climbed up to this position. 

You worked hard and diligently, like you always do, and got to this position. And only then were you formally introduced to each other. 

He’s just your colleague. Well, not exactly. He’s in a higher position than you, but he’s not your boss. It’s just that your department needs to be coordinated with what the division he oversees works on, and there’s no escape from working on projects together. 

Especially one like the huge, important one you’re really trying to conclude all the details for right now. 

You look back down at your tablet. “As I was saying, the Osaka rollout is projected to-”

“You’re coming on the trip, right?”

You pause again. “…yes,” you say slowly. “I’m part of the team assigned to–”

“Good.”

You look up.

He’s still leaning back, still relaxed, but there’s something a little more intent in his gaze now.

“It’ll be more fun that way.”

You frown. “It’s a work trip.”

“Is it?” he tilts his head slightly, like he’s genuinely considering that. “I was thinking of it more as a… getaway with some light administrative obligations.”

You almost laugh.

Almost.

“Some of us actually have work to do.”

“So do I,” he says easily.

You glance around his office. “Right.”

He grins, completely unbothered. “You wound me.”

You don’t respond to that.

You try, very hard, to steer the conversation back to the data you need from him. 

“So, you see,” you try to get his attention back to the graph on your tablet. 

And he leans in on his elbows, over his desk, too close for it to be normal. Why is he so freakishly huge that he can just hover above this giant desk like that? You ignore the smell of his delicate, expensive perfume as it gets more intense the closer he gets.

You clear your throat before you try to continue talking, and he seems to catch on that. A gleeful grin spread across his face. But you don’t react, and continue to talk about financial performances and revenue figures.

And through it all, he keeps looking at you like that.

Like this is the highlight of his day.

The trip starts early.

Too early.

You go to the office to close some last-minute details before heading to the airport.

You’re running on barely enough sleep and airport coffee when you arrive at the hotel. The kind of place where everything is covered in polished marble and soft lighting. 

Your room, while not extravagant, is still far nicer than anything you’d book for yourself. You barely have time to take it in before your schedule pulls you into meetings, briefings, and an endless string of responsibilities. You jump from an introductory meeting with the local team to location visits to late-night analysis over budgets and management decisions. 

You see him occasionally.

Across conference tables. In passing conversations. Once in the lobby, where he’s surrounded by people who look like they’d rather be anywhere else than under his scrutiny. Another time at the local offices, stringing out tasks with military-level detailing to a team of people in suits. 

He’s different there.

Sharper. Colder. Expectations high, patience thin.

You watch him dismantle a proposal with precise, effortless critique, and the person presenting it looks like they might evaporate on the spot.

On day three, you sit in your room after another exhausting day, when your phone pings.

Gojo Satoru [09:17 pm]: I barely saw you around

Gojo Satoru [09:17 pm]: if not for this idiotic proposal meeting, I wouldn’t know you’re here

You [09:18 pm]: some of us have work to do

Gojo Satoru [09:18 pm]: you like saying that

Gojo Satoru [09:18 pm]: I also have work to do

And you know that he does. Probably even more than you. 

You see the three dots appear and disappear a couple of times. 

Gojo Satoru [09:20 pm]: but it’s important to take breaks

You [09:20 pm]: Indeed. Good night then. 

Again, the three dots appear and disappear. Very unlike the man you saw in the last few days, in a sharp suit and sharper tone. He doesn’t seem like someone who would hesitate about anything. 

Gojo Satoru [09:21 pm]: come hang with me in the lobby 

Gojo Satoru [09:21 pm]: it’s finally empty 

The hotel lobby is constantly full of the company people, pacing through the space while talking tightly into a phone. Groups of people huddle together over a tablet, making multi-million dollar decisions. So full that one might think that it’s owned by the company. Well, it actually might be, who knows? 

You [09:22 pm]: what for?

Gojo Satoru [09:22 pm]: I’ll think of something 

You roll your eyes despite yourself.

You don’t say yes.

You also don’t say no.

You just go through your night routine and order room service. 

The next two days are almost worse. 

You have barely a minute to rest. 

Or eat. 

Or breath. 

So much so that you almost, almost, don’t notice him.

Of when he walks into a room.

Of the way conversations shift around him.

Of how easily he commands attention without ever raising his voice.

And, more annoyingly –

Of the way his gaze keeps finding you.

Across meeting tables.

Through glass walls.

In passing moments that are just a second too long to be accidental.

You ignore it.

You want to believe you’re very good at being unbothered.

It’s late again by the time you’re heading back up. 

You get into the elevator already mentally planning to take a bath, order food, and watch something that you’ll probably fall asleep not even half through. 

You lean back against the elevator wall as the doors are closing, when a hand slips in between–

And he steps in.

Of course he does. 

You don’t react immediately. 

“Busy day?” he asks, like he didn’t watch half of it unfold.

You exhale softly. “You were there.”

“Mm.” He leans back against the wall beside you, hands in his pockets. “Still. I like hearing you say it.”

You glance at him. “Why?” 

“Because you always sound a little annoyed.” 

“I am annoyed.” 

He smiles, pleased. “I know.” 

The elevator doors close. 

For a moment, it’s quiet again. 

“You didn’t come to the lobby.” 

You stiffen, just slightly. “I didn’t say I would.” 

“You didn’t say you wouldn’t.” 

You turn your head, giving him a look. “That’s not the same thing.”

“It is if you’re optimistic.”

“You’re not optimistic,” you say flatly.

“Yes, I am.” He objects with a pout. 

You don’t have a response for that.

So you look forward again.

The numbers tick upward till they stop.

Your floor. You step out.

You expect him to stay in the elevator.

He doesn’t.

Of course, he doesn’t.

He follows you into the hallway like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“You’re going the wrong way,” you say, glancing back at him.

“My room’s upstairs.”

“Exactly.”

He doesn’t elaborate.

You sigh, stopping near your door. “What do you want, Gojo?”

He tilts his head slightly, studying you like this is an interesting question. “Nothing complicated.”

You don’t say anything, just look at him, patience running low. 

His gaze flicks briefly above your head to your door, then back to you.

“You look less busy now.”

“I’m done for the day.”

“Good.” A pause. “So am I.”

You narrow your eyes slightly.

“What are your plans for tonight?” he asks, and excitement glimmers in his eyes. 

“I don’t know?” You don’t have the patience to see where this conversation is heading. 

He still looks at you like a puppy, and you see him about to suggest something you definitely don’t have the energy for– 

“I was going to take a bath,” you blurt out quickly. Just to say something before he does.

That was a mistake. A tiny fracture in your armor. The kind that shouldn’t mean anything. 

A small, quiet pause where neither of you moves. 

His eyes sharpen.

Just a tad.

He smiles.

Slow.

“Oh, sounds nice.”

“Yeah, you should try it too,” you add without too much thought. 

“Mm.” 

You turn away from him and unlock your door, pushing it open just enough to slip inside.

“Good night, Gojo.”

“Mm.”

You start to close it.

“See you,” he says before you fully close it. 

You stare at your closed door for a second.

Then shake your head.

Ridiculous.

Ten minutes later, your phone buzzes.

Gojo Satoru [10:08 pm]: still awake?

The fuck?

You [10:09 pm]: yes

Gojo Satoru [10:09 pm]: good

 

Pause. You don’t know if he’s expecting you to reply to that, because you won’t. 

Gojo Satoru [10:11 pm]: you said you were taking a bath

You stare at the screen. What does he want from you?!

You [10:11 pm]: I said I was going to

Gojo Satoru [10:11 pm]: same thing

Another pause-

Gojo Satoru [10:15 pm]: so…

Gojo Satoru [10:15 pm]: what do you say about helping me with the bath suggestion?

Uh? He needs help with how to run a bath? Can’t he call room service to set it up for him or something?

Rich people are weird… They really can’t do anything alone.

You [10:16 pm]: okay?

You expect to receive another message about how to turn on the tap or how to use bath bubbles. You toss your phone onto the bed, shaking your head as you head toward the bathroom to fill up your own bath. 

The water is running for not even five minutes when there’s a knock at your door.

Anna? coming to take back her laptop? 

You don’t give it much thought when you open the door–

And there he is.

Barefoot.

Hair messy and slightly damp.

Wearing nothing but a white bathrobe.

Holding a bottle of champagne like this is perfectly normal.

You just stare at him.

“…what,” you say slowly, “is this?”

He glances down at himself, then back at you. “You said ‘come by.’”

“I did not say–”

He hums, unbothered. “Felt implied.”

“It was not implied.”

“Agree to disagree.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

He steps past you anyway.

Like he belongs there.

You turn, incredulous. “You can’t just…walk into my room dressed - undressed -  like that!”

“I knocked,” he points out, already moving inside, opening drawers and closets. “You let me in. That feels like an invite to me.”

“That is not what that means.”

He laughs softly. “Well, I’m already here.” 

“So?” you ask, incredulous. 

He turns to look at you, a big smile on his face. “Let’s make the best of it.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

He straightens up, and the robe is sliding off his shoulder, revealing more of his chest than you ever planned to see. Is he seriously wandering around wearing nothing but a bathrobe? Unbelievable. 

You definitely don’t notice how surprisingly tuned he looks underneath. 

Yet he definitely caught your gaze drifting. Because when you look back up at him, he’s already smirking. 

“Come on, loosen up a bit.” 

“You must be kidding me,” you’re furious now. “Loosen up?! Easy for you to say.” 

He lifts the bottle in his hand, causing the robe to completely slide off his shoulders and almost all the way down to his impressive sculpted torso. 

“That's why we have the champagne!” He smiles brightly like he’s a genius and you’re an idiot. And you probably are, because for a nano second you actually consider it–

Loosen up just for a moment.

Some champagne.

A bath.

Him. 

…

A faint mechanical click.

The lock.

Turning.

The door opens.

Back to series masterlist Next Part

[likecatie]

oooh i can’t wait for the next part!! it’s so so good and i’m so eager to know what will happen next!! even though gojo’s behavior is a bit borderline, it’s kind of funny how he showed up at her room 😅 thanks for writing this love, i really love it 💕

[kooppss]

To Whom It May Concern (This Is An HR Violation)

Gorgeous art by @3-aem on tumblr and twitter

You are fighting for your life to finalize the Osaka project logistics. Gojo Satoru is fighting to get you to look at him. So he shows up at your hotel room door, determined to ruin your professional reputation, with champagne, zero boundaries, and a very inappropriate bathrobe. 

genre: rich heir Gojo x reader, coky billionaire very on brand Gojo, cold-ish reader, office AU, coworkers to lovers (?), workplace romance (?), he fell first and harder, hotel room shenanigans, bath shenanigans, HR is crying, mutual pining (over her dead body).

warnings: semi-toxic relationship, inappropriate workplace behavior, Gojo is full of red flags if anyone behaves like that- run away, sexual activity of various types, also in a bath. also, a lot of nonsense business/corporate talk that makes zero sense.

word count: 10k+

a/n: I had a dream... a year ago. About Gojo. Coming into my hotel room and... you'll see. I don't know what possessed me to finally write that. I'm not that into Gojo (my subconscious will argue). And I'm so late to the JJK train. But I had so much fun, and I love love love their chemistry and their "puppy vs cat" energy. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I did writing it ❤️

Part 1 (TBD)

Preview

He turns to look at you, a big smile on his face. “Let’s make the best of it.” 

Part 2 (TBD)

This is bad. This is bad bad.  Horrible bad.  Your-whole-career-is-fucked-up bad. 

Part 3 (TBD)

“Aren’t you having the best time ever?” he asks with a huge grin. And you’re thinking that, maybe, he’s being serious.

Comment below or send me an ask/dm if you want to be informed when I post the fic 🥰

[likecatie]

CANT WAIT TO READ THIS!!! I know it’s going to be soooo good ❤️

[seokbite]

WATERBOY ﹒⟢ j.jk

─── COME HERE WATERBOY! ﹐✶ watching her from across the field, he couldn't help but notice every little thing about her. the way she moved, gracefully─ her flexibility was hypnotizing, her laugh like a sonnet. her wanted her, but what business does the head cheerleader have with the nobody nerdy waterboy, anyway?

🏈 *◞ jeon jungkook x f ! reader ﹐☆ waterboy jungkook & cheerleader reader jungkook's kinda creepy (he watches her) jungkook wears glasses sex on a football field masturbation oral (m. rec)  it's sloppy as fuck cum swallowing makeouts dry humping doing the splits on it doggystyle rough sex missionary squirting ➜﹒minors do not interact 

▹ word count ✶﹐8k

The afternoon sun blazed across the football field, turning the air thick and sticky with heat. Jungkook crouched beside the large orange cooler on the sidelines, his black-rimmed glasses constantly slipping down the bridge of his nose from the sweat gathering there. He pushed them back up with his index finger for what felt like the tenth time in five minutes, then returned to filling water bottles one by one. The players were grunting and slamming into each other during drills, but Jungkook’s attention had already wandered, like it always did; straight to you.

A burst of light, flirty giggles floated through the humid air, and his head lifted immediately. There you were, sitting on the metal bench in your tiny red-and-gold cheer uniform, legs crossed so the short skirt rode enticingly high on your thighs. Kim Namjoon, the star quarterback, leaned in close beside you, his broad frame nearly crowding yours as he whispered something directly into your ear. Whatever he said made your lips curve into a slow, knowing smirk. You bit your lower lip, tilting your head slightly to give him better access, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Jungkook’s grip tightened around the water bottle in his hand, plastic creaking under his fingers. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He never could when it came to you. The way Namjoon made you blush and giggle like that… it twisted something sharp and hot in his chest. He wished it was him sitting there instead, him making your cheeks flush that pretty shade of pink, him earning those soft, breathy laughs. He imagined what it would feel like to have your full attention, to be the one you leaned into so willingly.

He screwed the cap onto another bottle, movements slowing as he kept watching. Namjoon’s hand rested casually behind you on the bench, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder. The quarterback was murmuring again, low and intimate, and the way your smirk deepened told Jungkook everything. It wasn’t innocent. Nothing about the two of you looked innocent.

Unable to resist, Jungkook grabbed a few filled bottles and walked closer under the excuse of handing them out. His heart pounded harder with every step. He just needed a glimpse. Just a few seconds of their conversation.

“…bet you’re so fucking flexible,” Namjoon was growling quietly, voice thick with lust. “All those flips and splits you do? I’d have you in my bed with your legs over my shoulders, fucking you deep until you’re screaming my name. You’d take every inch so well, wouldn’t you, baby? So wet and bendy just for me.”

Jungkook’s stomach clenched. Heat flooded his face and neck as the vulgar words sank in. His cock twitched traitorously in his shorts despite the sharp sting of jealousy. He had imagined those same filthy things about you, late at night, hand wrapped around himself, biting back your name while picturing you in that uniform, underneath him, moaning because of him.

You let out a sultry little laugh, voice low and teasing. “Mmm, big talk, Joon. You think you could really handle all this flexibility? I don’t make promises… but maybe if you play really well today, I’ll think about it.” Your tone dripped with heat, playful yet noncommittal, leaving him wanting more, just like you always did. Then you rose gracefully from the bench, stretching your arms overhead so the crop top lifted and exposed even more of your smooth waist. Jungkook’s gaze traced every inch of you helplessly. As you turned to leave, your eyes swept across the sideline and locked directly onto his.

Time seemed to stop. You knew. You knew he had been standing there listening. A slow, wicked wink fluttered from you, your lashes lowering playfully before you turned away like nothing had happened. Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat. His glasses slid down his nose again, but he didn’t push them up. He was too stunned, face burning, pulse roaring in his ears.

Namjoon noticed him then. The quarterback stood up with a scoff and roughly yanked the water bottle from Jungkook’s hand. “Move it, waterboy. Stop staring and do your job,” he muttered dismissively before jogging back toward the field.

Jungkook barely felt the bottle leave his grip. His eyes stayed glued to you as you walked away toward the rest of your squad, hips swaying with that confident, hypnotic cheerleader strut. The short skirt flirted with the curve of your ass with every step, your ponytail bouncing lightly, sunlight catching on your skin. He watched the gentle flex of your thighs, the confident swing of your arms, completely mesmerized.

He pushed his glasses up one last time with a shaky finger, trying to force himself to look away before anyone else noticed how obviously affected he was. But he already knew he’d be replaying that wink and every filthy word he’d overheard, for the rest of practice. For the rest of the night.

You knew he was watching. And something in that wink told him you liked it.

Practice had finally ended. The sharp blasts of the coach’s whistle faded into the distance as the football players trudged off the field, helmets tucked under their arms and pads clanking. The golden evening light stretched long shadows across the grass while the cheerleaders began wrapping up their own routines nearby. Jungkook moved through his usual cleanup ritual, collecting stray water bottles, dragging the heavy cooler toward the sideline cart, and gathering scattered equipment. Every few moments, though, his eyes drifted back to you.

You were near the 50-yard line, surrounded by your teammates and friends, finishing your cool-down stretches. Your body bent and arched with effortless grace, one leg extended high in a standing split, the short cheer skirt riding up dangerously and revealing the smooth curve of your ass and the toned muscle of your thigh. Jungkook swallowed hard, glasses slipping down his nose again as he stared. The way your crop top clung to your chest from the sweat of practice made his mouth go dry. He watched the gentle bounce of your breasts as you switched sides, the way your ponytail swayed, the soft sheen of sweat glowing on your skin in the fading sunlight.

You caught him looking.

For a brief second your eyes met his across the field. Instead of glaring or ignoring him like most people did, you smiled, slow, knowing, and a little playful. The same kind of smile you’d given Namjoon earlier, except this one was aimed directly at him. Jungkook’s face burned instantly. He whipped his head away so fast he nearly dropped the stack of cones in his arms, heart hammering against his ribs. Shit. She saw me. Again. Embarrassment flooded through him, but underneath it was a sharp thrill that made his stomach tighten.

He busied himself with the cart, pushing it toward the locker room entrance with more force than necessary. The cheerleaders were finishing up now too, gathering their pom-poms and bags, their chatter and laughter filling the air. Jungkook kept his head down as he made another trip back onto the field to grab the last few water bottles, cheeks still warm. By the time he returned, the girls were slowly heading toward the parking lot or the gymnasium. Their voices grew fainter with every passing minute.

Ten minutes later, the field was blissfully empty.

Jungkook let out a long, shaky sigh of relief as he stood alone near the sidelines. The only sounds left were the distant hum of traffic and the soft rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. No more grunting players. No more giggling cheerleaders. Just quiet. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the hem of his black t-shirt, revealing a sliver of his toned stomach, and leaned against the cool metal railing for a moment.

But the peace didn’t last long. His mind, traitorous as always, wandered straight back to you. He kept replaying what he’d overheard earlier, Namjoon’s low, filthy voice describing exactly how he wanted to bend you, fuck you, make you scream. The images flooded Jungkook’s brain like molten lava. He imagined himself in Namjoon’s place… you underneath him, that same flirty smile replaced with something desperate and needy. He pictured you begging for him, pretty voice breaking as you moaned his name, legs wrapped tight around his waist, hips rolling up to meet every thrust.

His breathing grew heavier. He thought about how your perky tits would look bouncing with every hard snap of his hips, nipples hard and begging for his mouth. The way your tight cheer skirt would stay pushed up around your waist while he fucked you right here on the field, or in the locker room, or anywhere he could get his hands on you. He imagined the wet sounds your pussy would make around his cock, how flexible you really were, legs over his shoulders, folded in half beneath him while he pounded deep and whispered how long he’d been dreaming about this.

“Fuck…” Jungkook whispered under his breath, voice hoarse.

The ache between his legs had become impossible to ignore. His cock strained hard against the front of his athletic shorts, throbbing with every dirty thought. Glancing around quickly to make sure the field was truly empty, he pressed the heel of his palm against the thick bulge, rubbing slowly over the thin fabric. A low, shaky groan slipped from his throat at the small bit of relief. He palmed himself firmer, eyes fluttering half-closed as he leaned harder against the railing, mind still flooded with visions of you.

You moaning his name. You creaming around his cock. You looking up at him with those same playful eyes while you begged him to cum inside you. His hand moved a little faster, breath coming in short pants behind his glasses as the empty field stretched out silently before him.

The empty field felt dangerously quiet now, the distant sounds of the campus fading into nothing more than a low hum. Jungkook’s breathing had grown ragged, his palm no longer enough to satisfy the aching need burning through him. After another nervous glance around, scanning the bleachers, the far end of the track, and the locker room entrance, he convinced himself he was truly alone. His heart hammered wildly as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his black athletic shorts and underwear, tugging them down just enough to free his throbbing cock.

It sprang out heavy and flushed, already leaking at the tip. Jungkook wrapped his hand around the thick length with a shaky exhale, eyes fluttering as he gave the first slow stroke from base to head. “Fuck…” he whispered, voice barely audible. His mind immediately filled with you again, this time far more vivid. He imagined how warm and tight you would feel wrapped around him, how your slick walls would squeeze his cock as he pushed inside you. He pictured your flexible body taking every inch, legs spread wide for him, that tiny cheer skirt bunched up around your waist while he fucked you deep and slow.

His strokes grew steadier, slick sounds barely masked by the breeze. He leaned back against the metal railing, one hand gripping it tightly for balance while the other worked his cock faster. In his fantasy, you were moaning his name— breathy and desperate— your perky tits bouncing with every thrust, nipples begging for his tongue. He imagined gripping your hips, watching the way your pussy would stretch around him, creaming down his length as you begged him not to stop. “Jungkook… please…” he could almost hear you whimpering in his head.

His glasses fogged slightly from his heavy panting. Sweat beaded on his forehead and slid down his temples as he pumped his fist quicker, thumb swiping over the sensitive head on every upstroke, spreading the precum that kept dripping out. He was getting so close already, thighs tensing, balls tightening, the coil in his stomach winding tighter and tighter—

A sharp squeak of surprise suddenly cut through the silence.

Jungkook’s eyes flew open in panic. His hand froze mid-stroke as his head snapped toward the sound. There you stood, only a few yards away, wide-eyed and frozen in place. Your gym bag was clutched tightly in one hand, your cute pink water bottle in the other. You were still wearing your full cheerleading uniform, the red and gold fabric hugging your body, but your hair was now down— long, slightly messy waves cascading over your shoulders after you’d taken out your ponytail. The surprise on your face was unmistakable, lips parted, cheeks flushing as your gaze dropped involuntarily to his exposed cock still held tightly in his fist.

“Shit—!” Jungkook choked out, face burning crimson. He fumbled desperately to cover himself, yanking his shorts back up but only managing to make the situation more awkward as his hard, throbbing length strained obscenely against the thin fabric. “I-I’m so sorry— I thought— I didn’t know anyone was still here— fuck, I’m really sorry—”

He kept stammering, words tumbling out in a panicked rush, one hand still half-covering the massive bulge in his shorts while the other pushed his glasses up his nose. He wanted the ground to swallow him whole. Of all people to catch him like this… it had to be you.

But you didn’t scream. You didn’t run away or call him a perv.

Instead, you slowly shook your head, eyes still wide but now sparkling with something entirely different, curiosity, amusement, heat. You took a slow step toward him, then another, your hips swaying gently in that cheer skirt as you closed the distance. The evening light caught in your loose hair, making it glow softly.

You stopped just a couple feet away, tilting your head slightly. “Jungkook…” your voice was soft, almost teasing. “Was that my name you were whispering just now?”

He froze, mouth opening and closing uselessly for a moment. His cock gave a helpless twitch in his shorts at the sound of your voice saying his name. The embarrassment was overwhelming, but the way you were looking at him, not disgusted, but intrigued, made it impossible to lie. His cheeks burned hotter as he swallowed hard and gave a small, reluctant nod.

“…Yeah,” he admitted hoarsely, voice barely above a whisper. “It was.”

A slow, beautiful smirk spread across your lips. You took another step closer, then one more, until you were standing right in front of him. Jungkook’s breath hitched sharply in his throat, his back pressing harder against the metal railing as if he needed something solid to keep him upright. You were so close now that he could smell the faint sweetness of your perfume mixed with the light scent of your sweat from practice. His eyes widened behind his glasses, darting across your face, your loose hair, and the way your cheer uniform still clung to your body.

The smirk on your lips never faded. It only deepened as you looked up at him through your lashes. “What were you thinking about in particular, Jungkook?” you asked softly, voice laced with curiosity and something far more dangerous.

His brain short-circuited. “W-What…?” he stammered, barely able to get the word out. His cheeks were burning, and his cock was still painfully hard, straining against the front of his shorts like it had a mind of its own.

You didn’t let him hide. Tilting your head slightly, you looked him dead in the eyes and asked with shameless clarity, “Were you thinking about fucking me, Jungkook?”

The directness of your question hit him like a tackle. Jungkook’s mouth opened, but no words came out. All he could do was nod, a small, helpless, eager bob of his head, because he didn’t trust his voice not to crack or moan. His breathing was ragged, chest rising and falling quickly as he stared down at you in pure disbelief and overwhelming want.

Your smile turned sweeter, almost affectionate, as you tilted your head the other way. Without another word, you gracefully sank to your knees right there in front of him on the grassy sideline. The sight alone nearly made Jungkook’s knees buckle. Your cheer skirt fanned out around your thighs as you settled between his legs, looking up at him with those bright, mischievous eyes. You placed your hands on his thighs, slowly running them up and down the tense muscles, feeling the way they trembled under your touch.

“Is this what you were thinking about?” you asked innocently, batting your lashes while your palms stroked higher, teasing the hem of his shorts. Jungkook could only nod again, lips parted, mouth half open in awe. His glasses had slipped slightly down his nose, but he didn’t dare move to fix them. He was completely frozen, mesmerized by the sight of you on your knees for him.

You let out a soft, delighted giggle at his stunned expression, the sound light and sweet, but it sent another throb straight to his cock. Without breaking eye contact, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his shorts and underwear again, tugging them down just enough to free his aching length. It sprang out heavily right in front of your face, flushed dark and glistening at the tip.

Your hand wrapped around him a moment later, warm, soft, and confident. Jungkook let out a choked groan as you started stroking him slowly from base to tip, twisting your wrist gently at the head just right. Your grip was perfect, slick from how much he had already leaked while thinking about you. You pumped him with long, deliberate strokes, watching every reaction on his face with that same smirk playing on your lips.

Your hand kept moving around him in smooth, steady strokes, thumb gliding over the sensitive head every time you reached the top, spreading the constant leak of precum down his thick shaft. Jungkook’s hips twitched forward involuntarily into your fist, his breathing ragged and shaky as he stared down at you like you were some kind of dream he was terrified of waking up from. “How long have you been wanting to fuck me, Jungkook?” you asked sweetly, eyes locked on his face while your hand twisted expertly around him.

“A while…” he whined, the words coming out breathy and broken. His voice cracked slightly, sounding embarrassingly needy. “F-fuck… a long while…”

You let out a soft, delighted laugh that sent vibrations straight through him. The sound was so pretty, so teasing, and it only made his cock throb harder in your grip. “Really?” he breathed out, genuinely surprised, eyes wide behind his fogged-up glasses, as you told him you'd been thinking about it just as much “You… you’ve been thinking about it too?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding as you looked up at him with that wicked little smirk. Your hand suddenly quickened its pace, stroking him faster, tighter, wet sounds filling the quiet evening air. “I’ve thought about it a lot, actually. About you fucking my tight little pussy… stretching me open with this big cock.” Your voice dropped lower, filthy and sweet at the same time. “I always figured the quiet ones like you knew how to fuck so good. All that pent-up energy… I bet you’d ruin me and still be so sweet about it.”

Jungkook moaned loudly at your words, knees nearly buckling. His hand shot out to grip the railing tighter for balance as pleasure shot through his body like electricity. You leaned in closer, warm breath ghosting over his aching cock. You guided the swollen head to your lips, smearing the shiny precum across them like gloss before tapping the sensitive tip against your tongue a few times, light, lewd little taps that made wet sounds. Jungkook shuddered hard, a broken moan ripping from his throat as his hips jerked forward.

Then you took him into your mouth. The blowjob was immediately sloppy and nasty. You sank down on him with wet, greedy sounds, taking him as deep as you could while your tongue swirled messily around the underside. Spit dripped from the corners of your mouth, running down his shaft as you bobbed your head faster, hollowing your cheeks and sucking hard. You didn’t hold back, gagging softly when he hit the back of your throat, pulling off just enough to gasp for air before diving back down, jerking the base of his cock with your hand while your lips and tongue worked the rest.

Thick strings of saliva connected your mouth to his cock every time you pulled back, only for you to spit on him and take him even deeper. The sounds were filthy— wet gurgles, sloppy slurps, and your soft, eager hums vibrating around his length. Jungkook’s knees were actually shaking now, thighs trembling as he fought not to thrust too hard into your warm, perfect mouth.

“F-fuck… oh my god…” he whimpered, one hand hovering like he wanted to touch your hair but was too nervous to do it. His glasses were completely fogged up, chest heaving, abs clenching tight under his shirt as you sucked him like you’d been starving for him.

You didn’t slow down. If anything, you took him even deeper, sucking him with messy, eager enthusiasm. Wet, obscene sounds echoed softly in the open air as you bobbed your head faster, spit dripping down your chin and onto your cheer top. Your tongue pressed flat against the underside of his cock, tracing every vein while you hollowed your cheeks and sucked hard.

Jungkook’s hand trembled as it finally moved from the railing to your face. His palm cupped your cheek gently, thumb brushing over your skin as he felt the way his thick cock bulged inside your mouth. The intimate touch made you hum around him, the vibration pulling another broken moan from deep in his chest. “You’re so… fuck— you’re so pretty like this,” he panted, voice whiny and wrecked. “Your mouth feels so good… so warm and wet— ahh, I’ve dreamed about this…” His praise spilled out between shaky breaths, eyes half-lidded behind his fogged glasses as he watched you worship his cock.

You fluttered your lashes up at him sweetly, locking eyes while you took him even deeper, gagging softly when he bumped the back of your throat. The look you gave him, innocent yet so fucking filthy, made his knees buckle again.

After a few more deep, sloppy strokes, you pulled off his cock with a wet pop, strings of saliva still connecting your swollen lips to the glistening head. You tapped his heavy length against your tongue a few times again, loving the way his eyes fluttered closed and his breath hitched every single time the wet slap sounded. “Are you close, Jungkook?” you asked teasingly, voice slightly hoarse as you stroked him fast with your hand.

He whimpered pathetically, nodding frantically. “Y-yes… I’m so close— please— I can’t hold it…” You smiled and dove back down immediately, sucking him harder and faster than before. One hand pumped the base while your mouth worked the rest, sloppy, nasty, and relentless. Jungkook’s hand stayed on your cheek, thumb stroking your skin as his hips started twitching uncontrollably.

With a choked, broken moan of your name, he came hard.

Thick ropes of cum spilled deep into your mouth, pulse after pulse as his cock throbbed against your tongue. You kept sucking him through it, milking every last drop while he shuddered and gasped above you.

When he finally finished, you slowly pulled off, keeping your lips sealed around him until the very end. You tilted your head back slightly, opening your mouth to show him the mess he’d made, your tongue coated in his cum, some of it dripping down toward your throat. Jungkook stared down at you with wide, dazed eyes, completely stunned and still breathing heavily. Then, while keeping eye contact, you closed your mouth and swallowed visibly, the motion smooth and deliberate. A soft, satisfied hum left your throat as you licked your lips clean.

Jungkook was still panting, eyes glassy and wide with disbelief as he watched you swallow. Something inside him finally snapped. He reached down, hands trembling but determined, and gently pulled you up from your knees. The moment you were standing, he cupped your face with both hands and kissed you, deep, urgent, and surprisingly bold for how shy he usually was.

You gasped softly against his mouth, surprised by the sudden intensity, but you melted into it almost instantly. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pushed back against him, kissing him harder. What started as a passionate, grateful kiss quickly turned sloppy and messy. Tongues slid against each other, wet and eager. Soft moans spilled into each other’s mouths as you tilted your head, deepening the kiss. Spit slicked your lips and chins while you devoured each other, breathing heavily through your noses, bodies pressed tight together on the empty sideline.

Your hands moved frantically, tugging at the hem of his black t-shirt. Jungkook helped you pull it over his head, revealing his surprisingly toned chest and abs, skin glistening with a light layer of sweat. He returned the favor immediately, his hands sliding under your cheer top and peeling it off your body. The cool evening air hit your skin as he tossed the top aside. His hands were greedy but reverent as they cupped your bare tits, squeezing the soft, perky flesh with a low groan.

“God… they’re even better than I imagined,” he whispered hotly against your lips before breaking the kiss to duck his head down. His mouth latched onto one of your nipples, sucking hungrily while his hand kneaded the other breast. His tongue swirled around the sensitive bud, teeth grazing lightly before he sucked harder, moaning against your skin. You let out a shaky moan, your hand flying to the back of his head, fingers threading through his soft dark hair and gripping tight as pleasure shot through you.

“Mmm— Jungkook…” you moaned, back arching to push your chest further into his eager mouth. He switched to the other nipple, giving it the same wet, sloppy attention, sucking and licking like he couldn’t get enough of you. His free hand roamed down your back, squeezing your ass through your short cheer skirt while he continued worshipping your tits.

The air between you was thick with heat and desperation. After a few more moments of his mouth on your chest, you pulled his head back gently by his hair, forcing him to look up at you. Your voice came out breathy and needy. “Do you want to fuck me, Jungkook?”

His eyes widened, pupils blown with lust. He nodded so eagerly it was almost pathetic, fast, desperate little nods while his hands squeezed your waist. “Yes… fuck yes, please,” he breathed, voice hoarse and wrecked.

You smiled at his eagerness and gently pushed him down onto the soft grass. Jungkook lay back, chest heaving as he watched you with pure hunger. You stood over him for a moment, then slowly straddled his lap, knees sinking into the grass on either side of his hips. Your short cheer skirt fanned out around you as you reached down, pushing his shorts further down his thighs. His cock, still hard and slick from your mouth, rested heavy against his stomach.

You hovered above him, grinding your soaked panties against his length teasingly as you looked down at his flushed face and fogged-up glasses. Jungkook’s hands gripped your thighs tightly, fingers digging into your soft skin while he waited for you, completely at your mercy and loving every second of it.

You settled fully on top of him, your soaked panties pressing against his hard cock as you began to grind down slowly. The thick length slid between your folds through the thin fabric, the friction making you both moan. Jungkook’s hands tightened on your thighs, fingers digging into your soft skin as he looked up at you with pure desperation, glasses slightly crooked on his flushed face.

“Mmm, look at you,” you purred, running your hands slowly up and down his toned chest, feeling every ridge of muscle tremble under your touch. “So hard for me already… even after I just swallowed all your cum. You really have been wanting this, haven’t you?” You rolled your hips in slow, teasing circles, pressing your clit against his cock with every movement. Soft, breathy moans fell from your lips as the pleasure built, your wetness soaking through your panties and coating his shaft.

Jungkook panted heavily beneath you, hips twitching up instinctively to meet your grinding. “Yes… fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long,” he groaned, voice strained. His eyes were glued to your body, watching the way your tits bounced lightly with every roll of your hips.

You moaned louder, arching your back as you dragged your hands up to your own chest. You cupped your tits, squeezing them together and playing with your nipples right above his face while you kept grinding on him. The sight made Jungkook’s cock throb hard between your thighs. Your moans mixed with his desperate pants, the wet sounds of your grinding filling the quiet evening air around you.

“Please…” he finally begged, voice cracking. “Please put it in… I need to feel you. I can’t take it anymore— I need to be inside your tight pussy. Please, baby…” You let out a soft, amused giggle at how wrecked he sounded, still grinding teasingly over him. But you took mercy on him. You reached down between your bodies, pulled your panties to the side, and lined up his thick cock with your dripping entrance. Without any more warning, you sank down onto him in one smooth, eager motion.

The stretch was intense. A loud moan tore from your throat as he filled you completely, thick and deep in one go. You didn’t ease into it, you started riding him hard and fast right away, hips slamming down roughly with every bounce. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, bordering on too much, but you loved it. Every brutal thrust sent sparks shooting up your spine as his cock dragged perfectly against your walls.

“Fuck— yes!” you cried out, bracing your hands on his chest for leverage as you rode him with wild abandon. Jungkook’s head fell back against the grass, a loud, guttural moan leaving him.

“Oh my god— you feel so fucking good,” he groaned filthily. You grabbed his big hands and yanked them up to your bouncing tits, pressing them firmly against your chest.

He immediately groped at them greedily, squeezing the soft flesh while his thumbs rubbed over your hard nipples. “Thank you… fuck, thank you,” he panted desperately between moans, voice breaking. “Your tits are so perfect— so soft. You’re riding me so good, baby. Your pussy is so tight and wet— shit, I’m losing my mind…”

You kept riding him with relentless energy, slamming your hips down over and over again. The wet, filthy sound of your pussy taking his thick cock filled the empty field as you moaned his name like a chant. “Jungkook… fuck, Jungkook—” Each bounce made your tits jiggle in his hands, your cheer skirt bunched uselessly around your waist. The stretch was perfect, his cock hitting so deep inside you that stars burst behind your eyes with every rough descent.

Feeling bold and wanting to completely ruin him, you decided to show off just how flexible you really were. You slowly extended one leg straight out to the side, then the other, sinking down into a full split on his cock. Your thighs pressed flat against the grass on either side of his body while his entire length stayed buried deep inside you.

“F-fuck—!” Jungkook whimpered loudly, the sound breaking into a desperate moan. His eyes rolled back, mouth falling open as uncontrollable whimpers and moans spilled from his lips. “Oh my god… it's so deep— I can feel everything. You’re so fucking flexible— shit, it’s too much—”

His reaction made you grin through your own moans. Your thighs started trembling from the intense stretch and the overwhelming pleasure as you began rolling your hips again in this new position, grinding and bouncing on him with short, powerful movements. “You like that, baby?” you panted, voice dripping with lust. “You like feeling how deep you can get inside my tight pussy? I bet no one’s ever taken you this deep before, have they?”

Jungkook’s hands slid down from your tits to grip your asscheeks hard. He pulled them apart roughly, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he started thrusting up to meet your movements. The new angle made you both cry out. His cock drove even deeper, the head rubbing against that perfect spot inside you with every snap of his hips. Your moans grew louder and more desperate, thighs shaking violently around him as the coil in your stomach tightened unbearably. “I’m gonna cum— Jungkook, I’m so close—!” you cried out, head falling back in ecstasy.

“I’m close too,” he groaned, voice strained and breathy. His thrusts became erratic, hips snapping up harder as he chased his release. “Where… where do you want it?”

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you rode him through the building pleasure. “Inside,” you begged, voice breaking. “Please cum inside me, Jungkook. I want to feel you filling me up— please, please cum deep in my pussy.”

That was all it took. With a loud, broken moan of your name, Jungkook thrust up hard one final time and came deep inside you. Thick, hot spurts of cum flooded your pussy, pulse after pulse as his cock throbbed violently. The feeling of him filling you up pushed you over the edge right after him. Your thighs shook uncontrollably as your orgasm crashed through you, walls clenching and fluttering around his cock, milking every last drop while you moaned loudly, body trembling on top of him.

For a long, hazy minute, you both simply breathed together, bodies slick with sweat and still buzzing from your shared orgasm. The evening air felt cooler now against your heated skin. You eventually rolled off Jungkook with a soft, satisfied sigh, collapsing onto the grass beside him. When you turned your head to the side, you found him already staring at you. His chest was still heaving, lips parted, fogged-up glasses sitting crooked on his nose, and his dark eyes held an intensity that made your stomach flutter.

A lazy smile tugged at your lips. Your gaze slowly traveled down his body— past his toned chest, down his abs, until it landed on his cock. He was still rock hard, flushed dark red, and glistening with your combined release. A breathy giggle escaped you. “Jungkook…” you teased, voice playful but laced with surprise, “you’re still so hard.”

He let out a shaky, embarrassed laugh, one hand coming up to push his glasses back into place. His cheeks were burning, but the hunger in his eyes didn’t fade even a little. “I know,” he panted, voice hoarse and raw. “I… I want to go again. Please.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, mildly impressed by his stamina. Most guys would’ve been tapped out after that, but here he was, still throbbing, still desperate for more. You bit your lip, heat pooling low in your belly again at the thought. “Alright,” you said with a smirk, “then you’re doing the work this time, waterboy.”

Jungkook let out a low, breathless chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. The sound was surprisingly confident. Without warning, he moved. In one fluid motion, he rolled over and flipped you onto your stomach. Strong hands gripped your hips and yanked your ass up high into the air, forcing you onto your knees with your chest and face pressed against the cool grass. You gasped at the sudden shift in position, instinctively arching your back and gripping the soft blades of grass tightly in both fists.

For a moment, he just admired the view. His large palms smoothed reverently over the curves of your ass, squeezing and kneading the plush flesh. He spread your cheeks apart slowly, groaning deeply at the sight of your puffy, cum-dripping pussy. His cock, still slick and heavy, slid up and down your slit in teasing strokes— dragging from your clit all the way back to your entrance, coating himself in your wetness but never pushing inside.

You whined loudly, growing impatient. Your hips wiggled back against him desperately, trying to tempt him, trying to force him in. “Jungkook… stop teasing me,” you begged, voice already shaking. “Put it in already—”

He didn’t make you wait any longer. In one sharp, powerful thrust, Jungkook buried every thick inch of his cock inside you. The sudden stretch made you squeak, but the sound quickly melted into a loud, broken scream of pleasure as he immediately set a brutal pace. There was nothing gentle about it. His hips slammed against your ass with wet, punishing slaps, driving his cock so deep you felt it in your stomach. Each thrust forced the air out of your lungs.

You collapsed forward even more, face turning to the side and pressed into the grass as he fucked you senseless. “Oh my god— Jungkook!” you sobbed, voice cracking with every brutal snap of his hips. The pleasure was overwhelming, almost too intense, but you craved every second of it. “It feels so good… your cock is so fucking big— you’re so deep—”

“Uh huh,” he groaned behind you, voice low and rough, completely different from the shy, stammering waterboy you knew from the sidelines. “Fuck, take it. Take all of it like a good girl.” You were shocked by the filthy dominance pouring out of him, but it only turned you on more. His hands gripped your ass tighter, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks as he pulled you back onto his cock with every thrust. The wet, obscene sounds of skin slapping skin and your dripping pussy taking him filled the empty field. Your thighs trembled violently, moans turning into broken sobs as he completely rearranged your insides.

Jungkook leaned over you, one hand sliding up your back to grip your shoulder for better leverage while the other stayed on your ass, spreading you open so he could watch his thick cock disappear inside you over and over again. His pace never faltered, sharp, deep, and relentless. Your mind was melting. Every brutal thrust punched the air out of your lungs and turned your thoughts into complete nonsense. You were babbling incoherently into the grass, broken moans, whimpers, and half-formed words spilling from your lips as Jungkook fucked you mercilessly from behind.

“Jungkook— ahh— fuck, fuck, it’s so deep— oh my god—” you cried, voice hoarse and shaky. His hands slid from your shoulder down to the hem of your tiny cheer skirt. He fisted the red and gold fabric tightly in both hands, using it like a handle to yank your body back onto his cock with every powerful thrust. The force of his hips made your entire body jolt forward. Your tits swayed heavily back and forth beneath you, nipples brushing against the cool grass with every punishing slam. The wet, filthy sound of skin slapping against skin echoed loudly across the empty field.

Jungkook was panting hard behind you, sweat dripping from his forehead onto your back. His voice came out rough and breathless between thrusts. “Tell me, baby… how good does it feel?” he groaned, yanking your skirt harder to pull you deeper onto his cock.

“So fucking good!” you sobbed loudly, tears of overwhelming pleasure pricking at the corners of your eyes. “It’s so deep— you’re hitting everything”

He let out a low, satisfied growl and leaned over you, hips never slowing. “Is this the best you’ve ever had?” he panted, voice dark and hungry. “Am I fucking you better than anyone else ever has?”

You nodded frantically against the grass, eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy. “Uh huh— uh huh— uh huh—” you cried out repeatedly, the words falling from your lips like a desperate chant with every thrust. “It’s the best— fuck, Jungkook, it’s the best I’ve ever had— no one’s ever fucked me like this—”

Your thighs were shaking violently. You were so close again, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter with every deep stroke. Your walls fluttered wildly around his thick cock, gripping him desperately as your second orgasm hovered right on the edge— But suddenly, Jungkook pulled out.

You let out a loud, pitiful whine at the devastating loss, your pussy clenching around nothing. “Nooo— Jungkook, please—” you begged, voice breaking.

He didn’t leave you empty for long. In one swift movement, he flipped you onto your back. Before you could even finish your whine, he hooked one of your legs up and pressed it against your chest, folding you in half. He lined himself up and plunged back inside you in one hard, smooth thrust. You screamed in pleasure as he filled you again, the new angle letting him sink impossibly deeper.

Jungkook braced himself over you, one hand holding your leg firmly against your chest while the other gripped your hip. He immediately started driving into you again, hard, fast, and relentless. His hips snapped forward with powerful strokes, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. Your tits bounced wildly between your bodies from the force, and your face twisted in overwhelming pleasure as he fucked you straight into the grass. “Look at me,” he panted, eyes dark and wild behind his glasses. “Want to see your face while I fuck you.”

Jungkook didn’t slow down even for a second. He kept you folded beneath him, your leg pressed tightly against your chest as he drove his cock into you with deep, punishing strokes. The new position let him hit even deeper, rubbing against that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. Your head fell back against the grass, mouth open in a constant stream of broken sobs and babbles.

“I love your cock— fuck, I love it so much” you cried, voice hoarse and shaking. “It’s so big… stretching me so good, Jungkook, I love how deep you are— don’t stop, please don’t stop—” Tears of overwhelming pleasure slipped down the sides of your face as you kept babbling, completely lost in the feeling of him.

Jungkook’s face hovered above yours, sweat dripping from his brow, glasses fogged and slightly crooked. His breathing was ragged and desperate as he panted, “You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?” His voice was rough, almost commanding. “Tell me. Are you gonna cum on my cock?”

“Yes!” you sobbed loudly, nodding frantically. “I’m gonna cum so fucking hard Jungkook, I’m so close— please, please—”

He groaned at your words and doubled down, fucking you even harder. His hips slammed against you with sharp, relentless force, driving his thick cock as deep as physically possible with every thrust. Your thighs began to shake violently around him. The pleasure became almost too much, overwhelming every nerve in your body as the pressure built higher and higher. Suddenly, it snapped.

Your orgasm crashed through you like a tidal wave. A loud, broken scream tore from your throat as your entire body convulsed. Your pussy clenched hard around his cock before you started squirting all over him, hot, clear fluid gushing out around his thrusting length, soaking his abs, his thighs, and the grass beneath you. Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, eyes rolling back as wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through you.

The feeling of you squirting around him pushed Jungkook over the edge right after you. “Fuck— I’m cumming—!” he moaned loudly, voice breaking. He buried himself as deep as he could and came hard, thick ropes of cum spilling deep inside your pulsing pussy. His cock throbbed violently with every spurt, filling you up until you felt impossibly full. He kept shallowly thrusting through both of your orgasms, panting and moaning your name like a prayer as his body shook on top of you.

Eventually, his movements slowed, then stopped. He collapsed forward, carefully letting your leg down as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Both of you were panting hard, bodies trembling and slick with sweat and other fluids, hearts racing wildly against each other. You both stayed tangled together for a long moment, breathing hard and trying to remember how to exist as normal human beings again. Jungkook’s face was still buried in your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin while his cock gave one last lazy twitch inside you. Your fingers lazily played with the damp hair at the nape of his neck as the aftershocks slowly faded.

Eventually, he lifted his head just enough to look at you. His glasses were completely fogged up and crooked, hair a total mess, and his face was flushed bright red. He looked thoroughly ruined in the best possible way. “…So,” you breathed out with a lazy, satisfied grin, still gently clenching around him. “Does the waterboy always hydrate the cheerleaders this well, or am I just special?”

Jungkook let out a breathless, embarrassed laugh and dropped his forehead against your collarbone, hiding his face as his ears turned even redder. “I— I can’t believe I just fucked you on the practice field,” he mumbled, voice muffled against your skin. “I’ve literally brought you water like fifty times and now I just… filled you up like a hydration station.”

You burst out laughing, the sound bright and airy as you gently shoved his shoulder. “Oh my god, you did not just make a hydration joke while you’re still inside me.”

He groaned, half-laughing, half-cringing as he finally pulled out of you with a wet sound that made you both wince. “I’m sorry, that was terrible. Post-nut clarity is hitting me like a linebacker and I’m apparently still an awkward nerd.”

You grinned up at him, reaching up to fix his glasses for him. “A very well-endowed awkward nerd, apparently. I think I’m gonna need a lot more water from you during games from now on.”

Jungkook shook his head, smiling shyly as he collapsed beside you on the grass, pulling you into his side. “If you keep wearing that uniform, I’m gonna need to start bringing the whole cooler.”

You snuggled closer, resting your head on his chest while the cool night air brushed over your sweaty bodies. Both of you lay there quietly for a moment, hearts still racing, before you muttered playfully: “…We should probably leave before someone finds us. Or before you get hard again and we end up christening the entire fifty-yard line.”

Jungkook let out a soft whine. “Don’t say that. I’m trying to recover here.”

You just laughed and kissed his jaw. “Too late, waterboy. Practice is definitely over.”

perm taglist ﹐ → @merakoo @rpwprpwprpwprw @littlejeanskirt @mikrokookiex @chwrryppie @sugak00kie134340 @alondra6011 @stars4kooo @namgimini @b-tangkitten

[likecatie]

WHAT HAVE I JUST READ!!! this was honestly sooo hot and wild 🔥 i absolutely adored this sooo thanks for sharing this with us all 💕

[wintrbears]

Pretty sure Jungkook’s the first celebrity to ever confirm all their fanfiction allegations ☠️

I mean… you just can’t make this shit up.

[sugaplvm]

are you sure?! s1e4 ♡

[tarathetic]

—❥ BREAD AND BREATH (📂EP-10) —✿

CLICK HERE FOR DETAILED STORY SUMMARY

SERIES MASTERLIST || EP-11

Wc: 15k

AN: Sorry… and not sorry. Oh my God, Jungkook in this chapter is so frustrating—I swear I wanted to punch him through the screen while writing some of his scenes. If you feel like ranting about his behavior, please do… it’s completely valid. Honestly, I’m right there with you. But also… we still love him, don’t we? That’s all I’m going to say for now—trust the process. Because at the end of it, this is one of those stories where she fell first… but he’s going to fall harder.

…

Then, the world broke.

The laughter was cut short by a sound that didn't belong in that peaceful, sun-drenched kitchen. It was a sharp, guttural cry—a sound of raw, physical shock that ripped through the air like a blade. Hazel’s hand flew to the underside of her stomach, her fork clattering against the floor with a sound like a gunshot. The first contraction didn't ripple through her like the "practice" tightness she had felt in the weeks prior; it slammed into her like a tidal wave, a crushing force that pulled the air right out of her lungs and left her gasping, her body arching involuntarily against the back of the chair.

"Jungkook!"

The name was torn from her throat, a desperate plea for a solid ground that was about to be swept away. He was at her side before the kettle could even whistle. The speed at which he moved was a blur of pure instinct, the soldier and the protector in him waking up with a ferocity that stripped away every bit of his icy professional mask. He didn't ask for a report. He didn't check a chart. He saw the way her body was taut with agony, the way her eyes blew wide with a primal terror that shook him to his very core.

"Breathe," he commanded, though his own voice was tight with a panic he was fighting to suppress. He dropped to his knees beside her chair, his hands hovering inches from her, wanting to touch her, wanting to pull the pain out of her body and into his own, but afraid of breaking the fragile moment. "Hazel, look at me. Focus on my voice. Breathe with me."

She lunged forward, her fingers searching for anything solid to hold onto as the second wave hit. She grabbed his forearms, her fingernails digging deep into his skin through the thick fabric of his dark sleeves. She didn't care about the pain she was causing him; she only cared that he was the only thing in the universe that wasn't moving. Another wave hit, harder and more relentless than the first, a crushing pressure that felt like her body was being torn in two from the inside out. Through the haze of agony, she looked up at him, her voice a broken, desperate whisper.

"Don’t... don’t let go," she gasped, her eyes searching his with a naked reliance that laid him bare. "I don’t care about the medical steps. I don’t care about the sequence. Don’t let me float away into this."

Jungkook felt the sting of her nails as they breached the fabric as if the blood began to draw from his shoulders, but he welcomed the pain. It was a physical anchor, a way for him to share the burden she was carrying. He leaned in closer, his forehead almost touching hers, his hands finally coming up to firmly grasp her upper arms, providing the physical resistance she needed to push against the agony.

"I am here," he growled, the ice in his voice replaced by a raw, protective heat. "I am not moving. Focus on the rhythm. In for four. Out for four. Just breathe."

As he spoke, a sudden, warm rush of fluid splashed against the floor, soaking through the hem of her dress. The sound was distinct in the silent kitchen—the breaking of the dam. Hazel let out a scream then, a high, terrified sound that seemed to tear through the very foundation of the house. It wasn't just a sound of pain; it was the sound of the end of her old life and the violent beginning of the new one.

Jungkook’s heart felt like it was being squeezed by a giant hand. The sound of her scream vibrated in his chest, a jagged, terrible noise that made his vision blur for a fraction of a second. He saw the water on the floor, the clear sign that the timeline had just collapsed. Every plan he had made, every Protocol of Care he had designed, was now secondary to the raw reality of the woman in his arms.

He stood up in one fluid motion, reaching over to the counter to snap up a water bottle, twisting the cap off with a sharp, violent motion and handing it to her. "Drink. You need the hydration for what comes next." That was a quick sip.

He didn't wait for her to answer. With a precision that was terrifying to behold, he moved to the hallway where the emergency bag—the one he had kept packed and ready for three weeks—was already waiting. He didn't fumble. He didn't hesitate. He grabbed the bag and the folder containing every medical record, every blood test, and every scan they had ever taken.

"Give me your hand," he said, his voice dropping into a low, commanding register that didn't allow for fear.

Hazel reached out, her hand trembling so violently she could barely lift it. Jungkook took it, his large hand completely enveloping hers, the heat of his palm a stark contrast to her cold, sweat-slicked skin. He didn't pull her; he supported her, his body becoming a living crutch as he guided her toward the door. Every step she took was punctuated by a moan of pain, and every time she stumbled, his grip on her hand tightened until his knuckles were white, his own body tensing as if he could absorb the shocks traveling through hers.

He ushered her into the car, his movements a blur of controlled urgency. As he slid into the driver's seat and ignited the engine, the sound of the car’s roar was the only thing that could compete with the sound of Hazel’s heavy, rhythmic gasping from the passenger seat.

Jungkook gripped the steering wheel so tightly that the leather groaned under his hands. His focus was laser-sharp, his eyes locked on the road ahead, but his ears were tuned entirely to her. Every time she let out a sharp intake of breath, his foot pressed harder on the accelerator. Every time she whimpered, his jaw tightened until his muscles ached.

"We are ten minutes away," he said, his voice a low, steady anchor in the middle of the storm. "We are almost there."

He could feel her eyes on him in the dark of the car—a gaze full of a desperate, terrifying trust. He didn't look back. He couldn't. If he looked at her now, if he truly saw the pain she was in, the last of his icy walls would crumble, he needed to get her to the finish line.

As the lights of the hospital appeared on the horizon, glowing like a beacon in the winter fog, Jungkook felt a single, cold bead of sweat roll down his temple.

The clinical white of the hospital was a jarring, sterile contrast to the warm, wood-toned safety of the villa. Here, time didn't move in hours; it moved in the rhythmic, jagged peaks of the fetal monitor and the low, urgent murmurs of the medical staff. For the first three hours, Hazel was caught in the relentless tide of active labor. The contractions were no longer waves; they were earthquakes that shook her entire being, leaving her breathless and trembling in the brief, silent valleys between them.

Jungkook remained in the hallway, a dark, motionless silhouette against the bright fluorescent lights. He had checked her in with a surgical efficiency that had left the admissions desk speechless, handing over her perfectly organized medical folder and ensuring she was placed in a private suite before the first nurse could even ask for her name. But now, he was outside the line of the Protocol. He paced the length of the waiting area, his hands clenched at his sides, his mind calculating every possible variable, every risk, and every outcome. The sound of her muffled cries from behind the heavy door kept tearing him down.

Inside the room, the doctor surveyed the monitor. "The contractions are consistent, but we need to wait for full dilation. We are at eight centimeters. It won't be long now."

Hazel was barely hearing the words. The pain had become her entire world—a crushing, physical weight that made the lights seem too bright and the air too thin. Her hair was damp with sweat, clinging to her forehead, and her knuckles were white from gripping the side rails of the bed. Every time a new wave hit, her body arched, her voice a low, guttural moan of sheer exhaustion.

"I need..." she gasped, her eyes searching the room frantically. "I need him. Jungkook. Please."

The nurse looked at the doctor, then checked the chart. "The policy is only for immediate family or a spouse in the delivery room during the final stage. The person outside... he’s the guardian?"

Hazel didn't have the strength to explain the contract, the villa, or the silent bond they had built in the shadows. She just nodded, a tear tracking through the salt and sweat on her cheek. "He’s..."

The nurse stepped into the hallway. Jungkook stopped mid-stride, his gaze snapping to her with a ferocity that made her hesitate.

"The patient is asking for you," the nurse said, her voice softening. "The doctor is allowing it. Only the husband or a primary support person is typically permitted, but she is adamant. Please, follow me."

Jungkook didn't correct her. He didn't explain that he wasn't her husband. In that moment, the label didn't matter. He stripped off his jacket, revealing the dark sleeves still stained with the faint, dried marks of her struggle from the kitchen, and followed the nurse into the sterile heart of the labor room.

When he stepped inside, the environment changed instantly. He didn't look at the medical equipment, the monitors, or the doctors preparing the sterile field. His eyes went directly to Hazel. She looked smaller in the middle of the large hospital bed, her face pale and glistening with sweat, her expression one of raw, primal exhaustion.

He was at the head of the bed in two long strides. He didn't offer a hollow "it’s going to be okay." He simply sat on the low stool beside her head and reached out, his large, steady hand finding hers and gripping it with a strength that was absolute.

Hazel’s eyes snapped to his. The moment she felt his hand—the familiar heat, the solid reality of his presence—the panic in her gaze began to recede. Her breathing ragged.

"You're here," she whispered, her voice broken.

"I am," he said, his voice a low, vibrating anchor. "I am not moving. Look at me, Hazel. Just me."

The final stage began with a sudden, urgent intensity. The medical team moved into position, their voices becoming a background hum to the singular focus between Jungkook and Hazel. He didn't look down. He didn't look at the mechanics of the birth. His entire universe was reduced to the expressions on her face—the way her jaw tightened, the way her eyes squeezed shut in agony, the way her chest heaved as she fought to find air.

He watched her suffer, and for the first time in his life, he felt a pain that no logic could explain. Every time she screamed, he felt it in his own marrow. Every time she pushed, he braced his own body as if he could take the strain for her. He stayed focal, his eyes locked on hers, providing the silent, unwavering confidence she needed to survive the storm.

"Last one, Hazel," the doctor commanded, the voice sharp and clear. "Full strength. Now!"

Hazel gripped Jungkook’s hand so tightly he felt the bones in his palm complain, but he didn't flinch. She threw her head back, a final, earth-shattering cry leaving her throat as she gave everything she had left to the moment.

Then, suddenly, there was a vacuum of silence.

The room seemed to hold its breath. The ticking of the clock, the hum of the monitors—everything stopped for one, singular second that felt like an eternity.

And then, it broke.

A sharp, thin, beautiful cry pierced the air. It was a sound of life, raw and demanding, filling every corner of the sterile room.

Hazel’s head dropped back against the pillow, her body going completely limp as the tension finally, mercifully snapped. She was drenched in sweat, her breath coming in shallow, sobbing gasps of relief. She looked up at Jungkook, her eyes wet and unfocused.

He was looking back at her, and for the first time, there was a profound, quiet awe in his expression—an appreciation for the sheer, terrifying strength she had just displayed.

"You did it," he whispered, his voice thick with a respect that went deeper than words.

The nurses moved quickly, cleaning the infant and checking the vitals. Within minutes, a small, warm weight was placed directly onto Hazel’s bare chest. The baby was a shock of pink skin and a tiny, fluttering heartbeat, its small hands reaching out blindly. Hazel’s arms folded around the child instinctively, a tired, trembling smile finally touching her lips.

Jungkook immediately shifted back into his role as the guardian, though the edge of his professionalism was now softened by the reality of the small life in the room. He watched as the clinical requirements were carried out. Got her reports.

Typically, for a healthy, uncomplicated delivery, the hospital stay is 24 to 48 hours. During this time, several critical steps are required:

Connection: This had already begun—the skin-to-skin contact to regulate the baby’s temperature and heart rate.

Clinical Monitoring: Hazel would be monitored for postpartum bleeding and uterine recovery every few hours.

Newborn Testing: The baby would receive Vitamin K, eye ointment, and a series of screenings (hearing, blood spot, and jaundice checks) that usually take a full day to complete.

The First Feed: Nurses would assist Hazel in ensuring the baby was latching and receiving the necessary colostrum.

Jungkook sat in the chair by the bed. He watched the way Hazel looked at the baby—a look of such pure, uncomplicated love that it made his own heart feel heavy and light all at once.

"The discharge papers will likely be ready in thirty-six hours," Jungkook stated, his voice returning to its calm, factual tone, though he didn't look away from her. "I have already arranged for the villa to be deep-cleaned and the nursery temperature to be locked at twenty-two degrees Celsius. The car is fitted with the specialized infant carrier. We will stay here tonight and tomorrow to ensure all medical benchmarks are met."

Hazel nodded, her eyes half-closed as the exhaustion finally began to pull at her. "Thank you, Jungkook."

"You did it, Hazel," he said quietly.

He stayed in that chair all through the night, watching the two of them sleep. He didn't touch them, but he was there—the silent, icy architect who had finally realized that some structures aren't built of stone and glass, but of breath, blood, and a love that he still didn't know how to name.

…

The hospital room was a blur of white noise, the rhythmic beeping of monitors, and the sharp, antiseptic scent that had defined the most intense hours of Hazel’s life. But as the time for discharge drew near, the air in the small room shifted. It felt thinner, more fragile, as if the walls themselves knew that the safety of the institution was about to be traded for the unpredictable reality of the world outside.

Hazel sat on the edge of the bed, her body feeling like a strange, hollowed-out shell. The nurses moved around her with practiced efficiency, finalizing the paperwork and offering a final round of advice on nursing. When they left the room to allow Hazel a final, quiet moment to feed Suhwi, the silence that rushed in was absolute.

Jungkook was standing by the window. He had been like a statue for the last hour, his back a broad, unreadable expanse of dark fabric. He didn't speak. He seemed to be holding his breath, his eyes fixed on the parking lot several floors below. To anyone else, he looked like a soldier on watch, but Hazel could see the tension in the way his jaw was set—a rigidity that went beyond professional duty.

"Jungkook," Hazel whispered, her voice sounding small and brittle against the sterile tiles.

He didn't turn around immediately. He took a slow, deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling in a heavy, labored rhythm. When he finally looked at her, his face was a mask of cold concentration, but his eyes were dark with a chaos he couldn't suppress. He looked at Hazel, then at the baby, and then quickly at his own boots. The shyness was no longer a gentle awkwardness; it was a wall, thick and suffocating.

"The vehicle is positioned at the nearest exit," he said, his voice a low, mechanical rumble. "I have confirmed the climate control for the baby. We should... we should begin the movement now."

He walked over and picked up the car seat. He handled the plastic handle as if it were made of thin, spinning glass, his large, tattooed fingers appearing startlingly dark against the cream-colored fabric of the swaddle. He didn't offer a lecture on safety. He didn't cite a single fact. He just stood there, waiting, his presence a heavy anchor in the room.

The final nursing session before leaving had been a long, quiet struggle of patience. Hazel had focused entirely on the tiny, rhythmic tugging of the baby, her mind a complete blank. Every time Suhwi’s tiny hand—the size of a postage stamp—brushed against her skin, Hazel felt a jolt of raw, terrifying love.

When it was over, and the nurse helped her into a wheelchair for the mandatory exit protocol, the transition felt like a snap. One moment they were in the safety of the ward; the next, they were moving through the corridors toward the double doors that led to the "after."

Jungkook pushed the wheelchair with a slow, agonizing precision. He didn't look left or right. He was a human shield, his eyes scanning every face they passed, every open doorway, every cleaning cart that rolled by. He didn't say a word, but the air around him was vibrating with a protective energy that made Hazel feel both entirely safe and strangely isolated.

In her heart, Hazel felt a cold prickle of fear. The hospital had been a fortress of experts. Now, the fortress was disappearing. She looked at the top of Suhwi’s head—at the soft, rhythmic pulsing of her fontanelle—and her mind felt like a white room with no furniture. How do I do this? she wondered. How do I keep her alive when I can barely walk?

Jungkook’s mind was a darker storm. He looked at the woman in the chair and the tiny life she held, and the contract felt like a heavy stone in his pocket. He felt raw, his emotions stripped bare by the sight of the baby’s tiny, translucent fingernails. He wanted to say a thousand things—about how he wouldn't let the wind touch them, about how he would watch the door all night—but his throat felt like it was full of dry earth.

They reached the car, and the movement of getting Hazel into the seat was a silent, focused dance. Jungkook helped her in first, his hand steady and firm on her waist, and then he spent an eternity making sure the car seat clicked into the base. He checked the harness three times, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he smoothed the blanket.

The drive home was the quietest hour Hazel had ever known. The world outside the window was moving at its usual, indifferent pace—commuters in their cars, birds in the trees—but inside the vehicle, time was a stagnant pool.

Suhwi was the only one making noise. She made tiny, wet sucking sounds in her sleep, her little mouth working as if she were still nursing. Occasionally, she would let out a soft, sharp "meh" sound, a little squeak of a protest against a bump in the road.

Jungkook’s eyes never left the road, but his grip on the steering wheel was so tight his knuckles were white. Every few minutes, his eyes would flick to the rearview mirror, checking the reflection of the car seat.

"Is she... is she still breathing?" he asked, his voice cracking like dry wood. That’s an absolute dumb question.

"Yes, Jungkook," Hazel whispered, leaning back as much as her sore muscles allowed. "She’s fine. She’s just sleeping."

"She’s so quiet," he muttered, shaking his head. "The silence is... unexpected."

Hazel watched the side of his face—the sharp line of his jaw and the way he looked like he was bracing for an impact that wasn't coming. She felt a deep, aching pull in her chest. They were both in over their heads, two people who had been brought together by a cold legal document and bonded by the heat of a new life.

When they pulled into the driveway of the villa, the sun was casting long, orange shadows across the white stone walls. The house looked like a sanctuary, but it also looked like a finality.

Jungkook killed the engine. The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the ticking of the cooling metal.

"We are here," he said, his voice a rough murmur that barely carried in the small space.

He got out and walked around to Hazel’s side. He didn't open the door immediately. He stood there for a second, his hand on the handle, staring at the front door of the villa. He looked like he was standing at the edge of a cliff.

He helped Hazel out, his arm wrapping around her with a strength that made her feel like she was part of him. Then, he turned to the back seat. He unclipped the car seat and lifted it out, holding it with both hands as if it were the most fragile thing in the universe.

They walked up the path together. Jungkook cleared a single stray leaf with the toe of his boot, his eyes never leaving the ground where Hazel was about to step. He was clearing the path, just as he always had, but now the path felt infinitely more precious.

At the entrance, he stopped. He pulled out his key and turned the lock, the sound echoing in the quiet evening air. He pushed the door open, but he didn't go in yet.

He looked down at Suhwi, who had just opened her eyes. She was staring up at the ceiling of the car seat, her little face scrunched in a moment of curiosity. She let out a tiny, high-pitched yawn, her tongue flicking out for a second, her little arms jerking in a startle reflex.

Jungkook’s breath hitched. He looked at Hazel, his expression raw and completely stripped of his usual mask.

"She’s awake," he whispered, his voice thick with a sudden, overwhelming vulnerability.

"She’s home," Hazel replied.

They stepped into the hall. The warm, amber light of the foyer lamp was already on, casting a soft, protective glow over the wood floors. The house smelled of jasmine and the clean, fresh scent of the nursery upstairs.

Jungkook set the car seat down on the floor and stood up, his height filling the hallway. He looked around the house—the place he had guarded so fiercely—and then he looked at Hazel.

He leaned down and unbuckled the straps. He moved with a slowness that was breathtaking. He reached in and scooped Suhwi up, his large hands supporting her back and her head perfectly. He held her right against the center of his chest, her tiny weight resting directly over his heart.

The baby nuzzled against the dark fabric of his shirt, her tiny nose pressing against his skin. She let out a soft, contented sigh and closed her eyes again, her little body relaxing completely into his strength.

Jungkook stood there, frozen. He looked down at the tiny girl in his arms, his eyes shimmering with a depth of feeling that was terrifying to him.

But as the silence of the house settled around them, a heavy, cold realization began to sink into his chest. He looked at Hazel, then at the baby, and then at the walls of the villa.

The contract was complete.

The mission—the care of the mother and the delivery of the child—was technically over. According to every rule he had ever lived by, his role here was done. He had fulfilled every clause, cleared every stone, and guarded every breath.

A wave of profound sadness, mixed with a jagged, biting confusion, washed over him. He felt rude for even thinking about the logistics now, but his mind was spinning. What is the next step? he wondered, his heart hammering against the baby’s heart. Do I leave? Do I stay? Who am I to them now that the paperwork is finished?

He felt like a man who had reached the end of the map and found only an abyss. He looked at Hazel, his face pale in the amber light, and for the first time in his life, the Great Sentinel didn't have a plan. He was just a man holding a child, wondering if he was still allowed to call this place home.

…

The first night back in the villa felt like standing in the center of a vast, silent cathedral. The air was no longer charged with the electric anticipation of labor; instead, it was heavy with a new, quiet weight—the weight of three heartbeats existing in a space that had only been designed for two. Suhwi had finally drifted into a deep sleep in her bassinet after the feed, her tiny face peaceful and still, blissfully unaware of the storm of confusion swirling between the two adults who stood over her.

Jungkook stayed in the nursery long after the baby’s breathing had evened out. He stood by the window, watching the moonlight filter through the curtains, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. For the first time in months, he felt like an intruder in his own skin. He looked at the medical supplies he had so carefully organized, the stacks of diapers, and the soft blankets, and all he could see were the terms of a contract that had reached its final page. He had fulfilled his duty. The delivery was successful. The mother was safe. By every legal and professional standard, his reason for being in this house had expired.

His mind was a battlefield of logic and heartache. He thought of the husband Hazel had lost—the man whose name was still etched into the legal documents of this house. Jungkook felt a sharp, biting guilt for the way his heart had hammered against his ribs when he held Suhwi in the hallway. He told himself it was an invasion of privacy to remain here now, a transgression against the sanctity of a woman who was supposed to be mourning, not finding comfort in a hired shadow. He was just a sentinel, a man hired for a season of crisis, yet the thought of walking out the front door felt like a physical tearing of his chest.

Across the hall, Hazel lay in her own bed, staring at the ceiling as the shadows danced in the dim light. Her body was a map of aches and strange, new sensations, but her mind was anchored entirely on the man in the nursery. She found herself trying to summon the face of her husband, trying to feed the memory of the man she had loved once, but the image felt strangely translucent. It was like looking at a photograph that had been left in the sun too long—the edges were curling, the colors were bleeding into a pale, distant gray.

She felt a wave of crushing guilt for this fading. She tried to force herself to remember his voice, his touch. But when she searched for the sense of a soft corner and protection, her mind didn't go to the past; it stayed right here, in the present, on the man whose presence filled the villa. Whatever she had felt for her husband was real, but it had never felt like this. It had never felt like this raw, grounding, and terrifying reliance she had on Jungkook. Her past felt like a story she had read in a book, while Jungkook felt like the air she was currently breathing. The memories weren't gone, but they were being quietly overwritten by the man who had actually held her hand when she felt like she was breaking.

The morning arrived not with a bang, but with a soft, rhythmic series of sounds that defined their new, awkward reality. Suhwi woke at dawn, her cries small and questioning. Jungkook was in the nursery before Hazel could even sit up, his movements silent and practiced. He didn't call for her; he simply lifted Suhwi with a tenderness that seemed to grow more profound with every passing hour. He changed her with focused precision, his large fingers moving deftly over the small snaps of her onesie, his eyes never leaving her face.

When Hazel finally limped into the room, she found him standing by the changing table. The air between them was thick with an unspoken tension, a shyness so heavy it felt like they were speaking different languages. Neither of them looked directly at the other. They navigated the small space like two ships in a fog, hyper-aware of each other’s presence but unable to find the words to bridge the gap.

"She’s... she’s hungry," Jungkook murmured, his gaze fixed on a point just above Hazel’s shoulder. He moved toward her, his movements stiff and formal, and handed the baby over as if he were handing back a precious, fragile relic.

"Thank you," Hazel whispered. She settled into the rocking chair and looked down at the infant. "Is my little Su-ya hungry? Are you ready for your breakfast, Su-ya?"

Jungkook felt a pang at the nickname, the soft "Su-ya" sounding so intimate and domestic that it made his lungs tighten. He immediately turned his back, his posture rigid. "I will prepare the morning nourishment for you. Your iron levels require replenishment." He walked out of the room without waiting for a reply, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his own confusion. He didn't know if he was allowed to stay, so he did the only thing he knew how to do: he worked.

The routine of the day settled into a pattern of silent, high-stakes care. Suhwi became the center of their orbit. She was a tiny marvel of movement and sound. She would stretch her little arms over her head with a dramatic sigh, her fingers splayed like delicate petals. She would root for Hazel’s chest with a frantic, rhythmic bobbing of her head, her little mouth making wet, smacking sounds that filled the quiet house.

Hazel watched Suhwi’s every move with a mixture of awe and exhaustion. She noticed how the baby’s eyes would track the light from the window, and how she would go perfectly still whenever Jungkook’s deep voice rumbled in the hallway. Hazel found herself calling out to her daughter just to break the silence. "Is my little Su-ya sleepy?" she would coo. Every time she used the name, she felt like she was building a new world—one that didn't have room for the ghosts of the past, even as she tried to keep them alive.

Jungkook, meanwhile, was obsessed with the details of Suhwi’s existence. He didn't just watch her; he studied her. He noticed the exact moment her eyelids would start to droop, indicating the onset of sleep. He noticed the tiny, reflexive twitch of her right foot whenever she was startled by a loud noise. He spent hours in the kitchen, preparing meals that were soft and easy for Hazel to eat, his mind constantly circling back to the same question: When do I leave? Every time he looked at Suhwi, he felt a surge of possessive love that terrified him. He felt like he was stealing a life that belonged to a ghost.

By mid-afternoon, the awkwardness had reached a peak. They were in the sunroom, the golden light spilling across the floor where Suhwi lay on a soft quilt. Hazel was sitting on the sofa, her legs tucked under her, watching the baby practice "tummy time." Suhwi would lift her heavy head for a few seconds, her face turning pink with effort, before dropping back down with a frustrated little huff and a tiny, wet bubble at her lips.

Jungkook was standing by the bookshelf, pretending to organize the volumes he had already straightened three times. He was watching Suhwi out of the corner of his eye, his heart swelling when she managed to push herself up for a record-breaking four seconds.

"She’s strong," he said suddenly, the words escaping him before he could stop them.

Hazel looked up, her eyes meeting his for the first time that day. The shyness was still there, but beneath it was a shared pride that made the room feel smaller. "She is," Hazel replied softly, a small, knowing smile touching her lips. "She has your stubbornness, I think."

Jungkook flinched as if she had struck him. He looked away, his jaw tightening as he fought to maintain the distance he believed he was required to keep. "She should have her father’s strength," he replied, his voice dropping into a low, somber tone that lacked its usual steady rhythm. "I am only a temporary observer." The words came out of his mouth like a false a statement that his heart denied. Every word he spoke was laced with a sense of discomfort.

The air in the room went cold. Hazel felt a sharp sting in her chest, the sadness of his words cutting through her like a blade. She wanted to tell him that he wasn't just an observer—that he was the reason they were both here, safe and whole. She wanted to tell him that she had been desperate for him to be there—not because of a contract, but because he was the only thing that felt real when the world was falling apart. But the weight of his "temporary" label hung between them, a barrier she didn't yet know how to tear down.

Evening brought a return to the hushed, ritualistic care. Suhwi had her first real bath in the small plastic tub Jungkook had placed on the kitchen counter. It was a scene of intense, focused cooperation. Jungkook held Suhwi’s head with a hand that covered nearly her entire back, his touch so light it was like he was holding a soap bubble. Hazel washed the baby’s tiny, wrinkled legs, her movements slow and careful.

Suhwi didn't cry. She looked up at the two of them with wide, curious eyes, her little toes curling and uncurling in the warm water. She splashed a tiny bit, a drop landing on Jungkook’s cheek. He didn't wipe it away. He simply blinked, his gaze softening into something so tender it made Hazel’s breath catch.

In that moment, the contract felt like a distant, meaningless noise. They were just two people, a man and a woman, caring for a life that they both loved. But the moment passed as soon as the baby was dried and swaddled. The shyness rushed back in, a tide of professional boundaries and unsaid goodbyes. Jungkook immediately retreated to the kitchen to scrub the counter, his back turned to her once again.

As night fell again, the villa returned to its state of silent vigil. Jungkook sat in the library, the light of the amber lamp casting long shadows across the floor. He had his bags packed in his mind, but his feet wouldn't move. He felt like a man standing on a bridge, unable to go forward and unwilling to go back. He thought of Hazel, of the way she looked when she was nursing Su-ya, and he felt a profound, aching sense of loss for a future he wasn't allowed to have.

"Who am I to them?" he whispered to the empty room. He felt like a ghost haunting a life that was finally finding its rhythm. He worried that his presence was an invasion of her privacy, a disruption to her grieving process. He worried that the more he stayed, the more he was helping her forget the man she was supposed to remember. He felt rude for staying, yet the idea of Suhwi waking up and him not being there to hear her cry felt like a failure of the highest order.

Hazel, meanwhile, was tucked into the corner of the sofa in the nursery, holding a sleeping Suhwi. She was thinking about the "aftermath." This was the reality she had been terrified of. The baby was here. The danger was gone. But the man who had seen her through it all was drifting away, lost in a fog of his own nobility.

She looked down at Suhwi, tracing the line of her tiny jaw. "We need him, Su-ya," she whispered into the baby’s hair.

She remembered how she had clung to him in the labor room, how she had told him he was her ground. She realized then that she didn't want him to leave because the contract was over; she wanted him to stay because he had become the foundation of her new life. She still cherished her past married life—she would always feed those memories—but those memories were like stars: beautiful and bright, yet millions of miles away. Jungkook was the sun. He was warm, he was close, and he was the only reason she was still standing.

The clock in the hall ticked away the seconds of their new life. Jungkook eventually rose and walked to the nursery door, his hand resting on the frame. He watched Hazel rocking Su-ya, her head tilted back in exhaustion, and he saw the way she looked at the child.

He didn't go in. He didn't say goodnight. He simply stayed in the shadows, a silent guardian who was no longer sure what he was guarding. He worried about the post-delivery, the postpartum phase—the sadness that could strike, the physical toll, the loneliness. He wanted to be the one to bring her tea, to hold the baby while she slept, to clear every stone from her path. But he didn't know if he was still the Sentinel, or if he was just a man overstaying his welcome.

Everything was moving at a slow, agonizing pace. The villa was full of the scent of baby powder and the unsaid words of two people who were terrified of losing each other. Suhwi slept on, a tiny anchor in a sea of confusion.

The morning light arrived with a cruel, piercing clarity that seemed to mock the exhaustion lingering in the corners of the villa. It was the third day—the day when the adrenaline of birth finally ebbs, leaving behind the raw, stinging reality of the "after." For Hazel, the morning didn't begin with a soft alarm or the scent of coffee; it began with a sound that tore through her chest: the high-pitched, desperate wail of Suhwi.

Suhwi was hungry. But more than that, she was frustrated. Hazel had been awake since four in the morning, her body aching and her breasts feeling heavy and engorged, a physical pressure that mirrored the emotional weight in the room. She held the infant against her skin, trying to remember everything the nurse had whispered in the quiet of the hospital ward. She adjusted her position, moved her pillows, and cradled the small, dark-haired head, but every time she tried to guide her toward the breast, the baby would root frantically, let out a sharp cry of defeat, and arch her back.

Suhwi was so small—impossibly small. Her mouth was a tiny, delicate rosebud that couldn't quite seem to find the right angle to latch onto the fullness of Hazel’s breast. It was a biological mismatch; Hazel’s milk supply had come in with a vengeance, making the tissue firm and difficult for a newborn's small jaw to compress. Every failed attempt was a serrated edge against Hazel’s nerves. She felt a hot prickle of tears behind her eyes, a sense of failure that felt more painful than the labor itself.

Jungkook was in the room before the second wave of crying began. He didn't knock; the urgency of the sound had overridden his internal map of boundaries. He stood by the nursery door, his hair slightly disheveled and his eyes dark with a lack of sleep. He didn't look at Hazel’s exposed skin—his gaze stayed strictly on the infant’s face—but the tension in his shoulders told her he was acutely aware of the struggle.

"She has been vocalizing for twenty-two minutes," Jungkook said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated in the quiet room. He walked toward the rocking chair, his movements stiff. "The nurse indicated that if the latch is unsuccessful, the infant’s frustration will create a feedback loop. Her cortisol levels will rise, making the next attempt even more difficult."

Hazel looked up at him, a stray tear finally escaping and rolling down her cheek. "I know that, Jungkook. I’m trying. But she’s so little. She can’t get a hold of it. I can feel the milk, I know it’s there, but she’s just... she’s starving, and I’m right here, and I can't help her."

The shyness that had defined the previous day was still there, a thick, invisible curtain between them, but the desperation of the moment was starting to tear holes in it. Jungkook knelt beside the chair.

"Hazel," he said softly, his eyes fixed on the baby’s flailing hands. "The tissue is too firm for her to grasp. You are... you are engorged. The anatomy of the newborn jaw is not yet developed enough to create the necessary vacuum on a surface this tense."

The conversation was clinical, yet the air in the room was thick with a heavy, intimate heat. To discuss the mechanics of her body with the man who had been her sentinel felt like a strange, beautiful transgression. Hazel shifted, her face flushing. "What do I do? If she doesn't eat soon, she’s going to lose weight. I can't just let her cry."

Jungkook hesitated, his hand hovering near the baby’s blanket. "There is a mechanical solution. The breastfeeding machine—the pump—that was delivered yesterday. If you use it to express a small amount of milk, it will soften the tissue. It will relieve the pressure and allow the nipple to become more pliable. Once the initial tension is gone, Su-ya will be able to latch with less effort."

He stood up and moved to the corner of the room where the specialized equipment sat in sterile packaging. He began to assemble the pump with the same focused precision he used when cleaning a weapon. He didn't look back at her as he spoke, giving her a modicum of privacy even as they discussed the most private functions of her motherhood.

"We will use the machine to take the 'edge' off the supply," he continued, his back to her. "But the skin-to-skin bond is still the priority. Once she is halfway through her feed and her initial hunger-panic has subsided, we will try the latch again. It will be a practice session. She needs to learn the rhythm of your body, and your body needs to learn hers."

As he brought the equipment over, the topic shifted into even more dangerous territory. Jungkook set the pump on the side table and then paused, his gaze dropping to the floor. He cleared his throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated awkwardness.

"The nurse also mentioned... the support," he began, his voice dropping an octave. "The compression of your current garments. If upper cloth is too restrictive, it will impede the milk ducts. If it is too loose, it provides no relief for the weight." He paused, his ears turning a shade of red that Hazel could see even in the dim light.

Hazel felt a dizzying rush of heat. To have this man—this warrior who had guarded her life—discuss her bra size and the fullness of her breasts was a moment of such raw intimacy that it felt like they were already tied together by more than a contract. She looked down at herself, at the way her body had transformed to sustain the life in her arms.

"I think... I think I’ve gone up two sizes," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Everything feels... too small."

"I will order the correct specifications immediately," he replied, his voice tight. "I have the measurements from the hospital records. I will calculate the necessary expansion."

He turned away quickly, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was a man who lived by facts, but the fact of Hazel’s body, the fact of her vulnerability, was becoming a weight he didn't know how to carry. He felt rude for knowing these details, yet he felt a fierce, possessive need to ensure she was comfortable.

The hour that followed was a slow, rhythmic process of trial and error. The mechanical sound of the machine filled the room, a steady, pulsing beat that seemed to calm the frantic energy.

When the pressure had finally eased, Hazel lifted a now-calmer Su-ya back to her chest. This time, with the tissue softened and the milk flowing more easily, the baby’s mouth found its mark. There was a moment of tense silence, then a soft, rhythmic click-swallow-breath sound that filled the room.

"She’s doing it," Hazel breathed, a look of pure, ecstatic relief breaking across her face.

Jungkook looked. He couldn't help it. He saw the tiny infant anchored to her mother, the most basic and beautiful biological circuit completed. He saw the way Hazel’s entire body seemed to melt into the chair, the tension leaving her shoulders for the first time in days. He felt a lump form in his throat—a jagged piece of emotion that didn't belong to a sentinel.

Hazel looked at him, her eyes wet with tears. "Thank you. I wouldn't have thought of the pump. I was too panicked to think."

"That is why I am here," he said.

But as the words left his mouth, the weight of the "Contract" returned. The milk was flowing. The baby was fed. The crisis was managed. The reason he was here was officially over.

As Su-ya reached the halfway point of her feed, Hazel followed Jungkook’s advice. She gently broke the latch and held the baby against her bare skin, her hand supporting the small back. Su-ya didn't cry this time; she was full enough to be curious, her little eyes blinking up at Hazel in the morning light.

"We’re practicing, Su-ya," Hazel whispered, her voice thick with love. "Just you and me."

Jungkook heard them from the hallway, , and the sadness that had been brewing in him since the hospital arrived in a cold, crushing wave. He stood up, his height casting a long shadow across the nursery floor. He felt like he was hovering over a life that no longer required his guardianship. He looked at his hands—hands that were built for violence, yet had spent the morning assembling breastfeeding equipment—and he felt a profound sense of displacement.

He walked to the window, staring out at the garden where the jasmine was beginning to wilt in the heat of the rising sun. He knew he had to speak. He knew he had to offer her the "out" that the contract provided, so he went in after an hour of struggling with his inner voice.

"Hazel," he said, his back still turned to her. His voice was different now—hollow, stripped of its grounding resonance. "Now that the routine is established... now that the nutritional requirements are being met... we should discuss the transition."

Hazel froze. She tightened her grip on Su-ya, her heart skipping a beat. "The transition?"

"The contract," Jungkook said, the word sounding like a death sentence. "The final clause. My presence was mandated for the safety of the pregnancy and the security of the delivery. Both milestones have been surpassed. You are... you are capable now. The villa is secure. I should not... I should not continue to invade your privacy."

He turned to face her, and for a second, he tried to put on a mask of professional concern. He tried to make his voice sound sweet, almost fake in its clinical detachment. "I want to ensure you are fully supported, of course. I can arrange for a nursing assistant to take over the daily tasks. I can ensure the perimeter is monitored remotely. I am only concerned for your well-being, Hazel."

But Hazel saw right through it. She saw the way his fingers were trembling against the fabric of his trousers. She saw the way his eyes weren't actually meeting hers, but were searching the room for an escape. She noticed the sweetness in his tone was a shield—a way to make his departure seem like a benefit for her, rather than a loss for him.

She thought back to the previous night, to the hours she had spent staring at the ceiling, convinced that he was already gone in his mind. She had been so sure that he was ready to leave, that he was bored with the domesticity of diapers and milk. But looking at him now, she realized she had been wrong. He wasn't bored. He was terrified. He was terrified of being a ghost in a dead man's house.

She looked down at Su-ya, then back at Jungkook. She couldn't let him go. Not yet. Not ever.

"Jungkook," she said, her voice steady and calm, masking the desperation she felt. "Are you okay?"

He blinked, taken aback by the question. "I am... I am functioning at peak capacity, Hazel. My health is not the issue."

"You haven't slept," she said, her gaze narrowing. "And you’re talking about 'remote monitoring' like I'm a client in a skyscraper, not a woman who just had a baby in your arms."

She shifted, adjusting Su-ya so she could look him in the eye. She needed a reason. She needed a cover-up story that would appeal to his sense of duty, something that would give him permission to stay without admitting the heartache they both felt.

"I can't let you go yet," she said, her voice dropping into a soft, serious tone. "The doctor... she mentioned something at the hospital. About the 'post-delivery' complications. My blood pressure hasn't stabilized yet, and with the baby being so small, she’s worried about my recovery time. She said I shouldn't be alone for at least another month. Especially with the stairs and the... the weight of the equipment."

It was a half-truth at best, a desperate exaggeration of a routine warning, but she saw the effect it had on him instantly. The "Soldier" in him snapped back to attention. The confusion in his eyes was replaced by a sharp, focused intent.

"She said this? Why was I not informed of the blood pressure fluctuations?" he asked, stepping toward her, the sweetness of his voice replaced by the raw, grounding authority she loved.

"It was during the final check," Hazel lied, her heart hammering. "I didn't want to worry you. But I’m feeling... dizzy. And with Su-ya being so difficult to latch, I can't manage the pump and the meals and the monitoring on my own. I need someone who knows the 'sequence,' Jungkook. I need someone who already has the trust of the infant."

Jungkook stood there, processing the information. He looked at Hazel—really looked at her—and saw the exhaustion and the vulnerability. He didn't see a client; he saw a woman who was asking him to be her ground again.

The sadness that had been suffocating him began to lift, replaced by a fierce, renewed sense of purpose. He wasn't a ghost. He was a necessity.

"If there is a medical risk, my departure is out of the question," he said, his voice returning to that deep, certain rumble. "I will stay. I will monitor the blood pressure readings every four hours. I will handle the sterilization of the equipment and the meal rotations. The transition will be delayed until your health metrics are within the optimal range."

Hazel let out a breath she felt she had been holding for days. "Thank you, Jungkook. I... I don't think I could do this without you."

"You won't have to," he said.

He walked over to the bassinet and began to straighten the sheets, his movements no longer stiff or awkward. He looked like a man who had been given a second life. He looked at Su-ya, who was now drifting back to sleep, her little tummy full and her hand curled into a tiny fist.

"Su-ya is resting," he murmured. "I will go and prepare the iron-rich breakfast now. And I will finalize the order for the new garments. We cannot have you in restrictive clothing if your recovery is compromised."

He walked out of the room, and for the first time since they had returned from the hospital, the villa felt like a home again. The shyness was still there, buzzing in the air like a live wire, but it was no longer a barrier. It was a bridge.

Hazel sat in the rocking chair, listening to the sound of him moving in the kitchen below. She looked down at the baby in her arms, at the tiny, perfect life they were both guarding. She knew she had used a cover-up story. She knew she had played on his sense of duty to keep him by her side.

But as she felt the steady beat of her own heart, she realized it wasn't a lie. She did need him. She needed the way he looked at the baby. She needed the way he cleared the stones from her path. She needed the man who got her a breastfeeding machine because he couldn't bear to hear her cry.

…

The clock in the hall had long since passed the three-o’clock mark, that hollow hour where the world feels suspended in ink and the only sound is the settling of an old house. In the nursery, the air was warm and heavy with the scent of baby powder, the metallic tang of recovery, and the exhaustion that hung in the corners like dust. For Hazel, the timeline of her life had fractured; she no longer measured days by the sun, but by the rhythmic, demanding cycles of Suhwi.

It had been five days since they returned to the villa, a blur of physical adjustment and emotional whiplash that felt like five years. Hazel sat in the rocking chair, the low, comforting glow of a small amber nightlamp casting long, dancing shadows against the walls. The "post-delivery" reality was far more visceral and consuming than any book had promised. Her body was a landscape of healing; the lochia—that heavy, constant, and messy postpartum flow that the body required to mend itself—was a relentless physical reminder of the trauma she had endured to bring this new life into the world. It made her feel raw, vulnerable, and physically drained in a way that sleep couldn't fix.

Su-ya was finally asleep, her tiny chest rising and falling in a shallow, perfect cadence that brought a temporary peace to the room. The nursing session had been a long, arduous battle. The "latch" was still a painful work in progress; Su-ya’s mouth was so impossibly small that she often struggled to anchor herself, leading to frustrated, piercing cries and frantic rooting. Hazel had spent the last hour alternating between skin-to-skin practice and the mechanical, pulsing hum of the breast pump Jungkook had set up, a cycle of biological labor that left her drained of every calorie she possessed.

As she carefully laid Su-ya back into the bassinet, Hazel felt a sudden, sharp, and all-consuming pang in her stomach. It wasn't just a simple hunger; it was a desperate, primal craving. The act of breastfeeding and pumping felt like it was pulling the energy directly from her marrow. She needed to eat, and she needed to move, to assure herself she was still more than just a source of nutrition.

She threw the matching silk robe over her shoulders, though she didn't tie it, letting it hang open as a protective but fluid layer. She felt like a ghost haunting her own home as she stepped out of the nursery, her bare feet, slipped into plush, white furry slippers, silent on the cold hardwood floor.

The hallway was a tunnel of darkness, save for the pale, cold moonlight filtering through the high windows. Hazel moved toward the stairs, her mind entirely focused on the kitchen and the possibility of a satisfying snack. She didn't turn on the lights, her eyes well-adjusted to the gloom.

She didn't notice him at first.

Jungkook was sitting in the high-backed velvet chair tucked into the alcove directly outside her bedroom door—his permanent "post." He had fallen asleep, his head tilted back against the dark fabric, his arms crossed over his chest. In the deep shadows, he looked like a statue carved from obsidian. The sharp, serious line of his jaw was slightly softened by sleep, and his chest moved with a deep, steady rhythm that calmed the silence. He had discarded his tactical jacket, wearing only a thin, black compression shirt that showed every corded muscle of his torso and the subtle movement of his breath.

Hazel froze, her breath catching in her throat with a soft, involuntary gasp. She had thought he had retreated to his own quarters hours ago, respecting the invisible boundary that had re-established itself once they were home. Seeing him there—guarding her even in his sleep, maintaining his vigil over her recovery—sent a jolt through her chest that had nothing to do with fear. She stood there for a long, lingering moment, watching him. The consuming shyness that usually governed their brief daytime interactions was gone in the dark; she allowed herself to look at the pulse in his neck, the way his eyelashes cast long, delicate shadows on his cheekbones.

She shouldn't have stayed. She knew that. But the magnetic pull of his presence was stronger than her hunger. In that moment, she was desperate for his awareness, to be recognized as the woman she was before the baby, before the 'postpartum phase.' She eventually forced herself to look away, creeping past him with the stealth of a thief, careful that not even the swish of her robe could wake him.

The kitchen was cool and smelled faintly of the jasmine vines that climbed outside the window. Hazel began to ruffle through the pantry, her movements hurried and slightly frantic, guided only by the soft glow from the digital clock on the stove. Her hands were shaking slightly from the drop in her blood sugar. She was so entirely focused on the sound of packaging—the rustle of a bag of pretzels—that she didn't hear the footsteps until it was too late.

"The nutritional intake you are seeking is entirely insufficient for your current caloric expenditure."

Hazel let out a muffled shriek, the bag of pretzels slipping from her hand and clattering onto the marble island, the sound deafening in the quiet. She spun around, her hand flying to her chest, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

Jungkook was standing in the doorway. The dim, intimate under-cabinet lighting she had just turned on hit him from below, casting his features in sharp, dramatic relief. He was fully awake now, his eyes dark and alert, scanning the room for danger before they finally, irrevocably settled on her.

And then, he went perfectly still.

His gaze traveled from her face down to the deep midnight-blue silk of the dress she wore. He saw the way the delicate black lace was detailed along the V-neckline, emphasizing the swell of her breasts in the low light. He saw the matching silk robe, also trimmed with that expansive black lace along the wide bell sleeves and the sweeping hem, cascading open around her legs. For the first time in all the months he had known her, Jungkook looked truly, deeply unnerved. The professional "Sentinel" mask didn't just crack; it shattered. His world of contracts and biological sequences was suddenly overridden by a raw, devastating physical attraction. He realized this wasn't the thick, functional cotton he was used to. This was sophisticated, luxurious silk, highlighting her femininity and reminding him, with brutal clarity, that she was a woman.

"I... I was hungry," Hazel stammered, her face turning a deep, burning crimson that she was grateful the dim lighting somewhat masked. She tried to pull the open silk robe shut, but the material was slippery, and her hands were still trembling from the double shock of his appearance and his intense gaze. "I didn't mean to wake you. I thought you were in your room."

Jungkook didn't move. He didn't look away. The silence in the kitchen became so heavy it felt like a physical weight pressing down on them. The standard shyness between them had transformed into something much sharper—an electric, agonizing tension that made the air feel thin. He saw the black lace trim tracing her collarbone, a seductive contrast to the smooth satin.

"I was on watch," he said, his voice dropping into a low, rough register that made the hair on her arms stand up. He cleared his throat, finally forcing his eyes back up to hers, though the effort was visible in the tightening of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils. "You are experiencing a metabolic deficit, Hazel. The pumping session you completed at 02:45 removed approximately five hundred calories from your system. Pretzels will not stabilize your levels, nor will they aid in your recovery."

He stepped into the kitchen, his massive presence instantly shrinking the intimate space. He didn't ask for permission; he simply walked past her to the refrigerator and began pulling out eggs, spinach, and a loaf of artisanal sourdough bread.

"I can do it, Jungkook," Hazel whispered, though she made no move to stop him, her hunger now coupled with a desperate need to keep him in the room.

"Sit," he commanded. It wasn't the voice of a guard following orders; it was the voice of a man who was frustrated by his own inability to look away, yet who was simultaneously determined to care for her. "You are dizzy. I can see the instability in your stance. That is not an acceptable risk."

Hazel sat on the high barstool at the island, her massive midnight-blue silk and black lace robe cascading around her lap, providing a strange sense of coverage even as it highlighted her silhouette. She watched him work. There was something hypnotic about the way he moved—the absolute efficiency of his hands as he cracked eggs, the way he moved the pan with a practiced, powerful flick of his wrist. He didn't turn on any more lights, preferring the intimate, low-glow of the under-cabinet lighting.

"You're making a lot of food," she murmured, watching him whisk the eggs with a focused intensity.

"Your body is currently a factory, Hazel," he said, still not looking at her. "You are producing life-sustaining fluid. To do that efficiently, you require high-quality protein and complex fats. I am making an omelet with spinach and , avocado with toasted sourdough. You will finish it all."

"You don't have to do this," she said softly, watching the muscle of his forearm flex as he stirred the pan. "It’s four in the morning."

"I am aware of the time," he replied. He turned to plate the food, and for a second, he looked at her again. His gaze was intense, searching, and full of a profound sadness he couldn't name. The contrast between the simple domestic task he was performing and the intricate black lace of her dress that kept shifting in the light seemed to torture him. "I am also aware that for the last five days, you have barely eaten a full meal because you are so focused on the baby’s latch. You are neglecting the source to protect the result."

After several minutes he pushed the plate across the marble toward her. He had even made her a cup of warm, comforting herbal tea, the steam curling into the dark, silent air.

Hazel began to eat, and the first bite felt like pure heaven. She hadn't realized how truly famished she was until the warmth hit her stomach, the calories instantly stabilizing her shaky system. Jungkook didn't leave. He stood on the other side of the island, leaning his lower back against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes staying on her.

The embarrassment of her outfit was still there—the lace and deep silk feeling far too refined and personal for the simple snack she had sought—but it was being slowly replaced by a strange, quiet comfort. They were alone in the dark, the rest of the house asleep, sharing a midnight meal. She felt seen, not as a recovery statistic, but as Hazel.

"Is the latch getting better?" he asked after a long, comfortable silence.

"A little," Hazel said, her mouth full of toast. She swallowed and looked up at him. "The skin-to-skin helps. But she’s just... she’s so little, Jungkook. Sometimes I look at her and I’m so afraid I’m going to do something wrong. That I’m not enough for her."

Jungkook watched her, his expression softening in a way that made Hazel’s heart ache. He thought about the five days he had spent watching her—watching her struggle with the pump, watching her physical pain, watching her pour every ounce of her soul into the child.

"You are more than enough," he said. The words were simple, but the unwavering weight of certainty behind them was immense. "The way you look at her... it is a biological imperative of love. She knows you are her world. She doesn't care about the latch, Hazel. She only cares that she is against you."

Hazel felt the tears prickling again. "I wanted you there, you know," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator. "In the delivery room. I know it wasn't part of the plan. I know I was desperate and rude to ask..."

"You were not rude," Jungkook interrupted, his voice sharp with a sudden, fierce intensity. He stepped closer to the island, his hands gripping the edge of the marble, leaning toward her. The expansive black lace border of her robe swirled on the floor as he moved. He was agonizingly aware of the intimacy of the admission. "You were in the center of a storm, Hazel. And you asked me to be the ground. There is no greater honor for a man like me."

They stared at each other across the island. The cool air was thick with the scent of eggs and detailed silk and the heavy, electric weight of the unsaid words of two people who were terrified of what was happening between them.

Jungkook looked at her—really looked at her—and saw the woman he had spent months guarding. He saw the strength in her physical exhaustion and the breathtaking, intricate beauty of the deep blue silk set she wore. Every detail of the lace, the way the satin shimmered in the low light, was now branded into his memory. He realized that this domesticity—the middle-of-the-night feeds, the shared meals, the watching over her—was consuming him, making the contract seem like a joke.

He wanted to stay. He wanted to stay in this kitchen, in this villa, for the rest of his life. He wanted to be the one who made her midnight meals and helped her with the baby’s latch. But the memory of the Contract, the professional line he was supposed to draw, was still there, a cold ghost in the warm room.

"Hazel," he began, his voice rough. "About what I said yesterday... about leaving..."

"I know," she said quickly, cutting him off. She couldn't hear it again. She wasn't ready to lose him. She had spent the entire night agonizing over it. "But like I said, the doctor... she’s worried. And I’m still... I’m still having the physical issues, Jungkook. The bleeding hasn't stopped, and it’s normal, I know, but it makes me so incredibly weak. I can't manage the stairs and the pumping and the meals on my own. I need you to stay. Just until things are stable."

She used the medical excuse as a shield, a cover-up story that she had rehearsed in her mind, a way to keep him close without having to admit that the thought of him leaving made her feel like she was being torn apart.

Jungkook looked at her, and for a split second, she thought he was going to see right through it. He was a man trained to spot lies and deceptions, trained to trust facts over feelings. But then, his gaze softened. He chose to believe her—or perhaps, he was just as desperate for a valid reason to stay as she was for him to remain.

"I will not leave you while you are at risk," he said firmly, his professional voice returning to provide them both with the armor they needed. "I will stay as long as the recovery requires. My duty to you and Suhwi is not yet complete."

Hazel finished her meal in silence, the warmth of the food and the grounding presence of the man across from her making her feel more at peace than she had in weeks. When she was done, Jungkook took the plate from her, his large, scarred fingers brushing hers for a fleeting, electric second. They both flinched but didn't pull away instantly.

"Go back to sleep," he said, his voice a low command. "I will handle the clean-up. I will be in the hall if the infant wakes."

Hazel stood up, the massive black lace border of the deep midnight-blue silk robe cascading around her white furry slippers. She looked at him one last time—the Sentinel in the dark kitchen, the man who had assembly-lined her pump and now cooked her midnight meals, the man who had become her home.

"Goodnight, Jungkook," she whispered.

"Goodnight, Hazel," he replied.

As she walked back up the stairs, Hazel felt the profound weight of his gaze on her back. She knew they were playing a dangerous game. They were lingering in a domestic space that didn't technically belong to them, caught between a contract that was finished and a love that was just beginning to breathe. She went back into the nursery and checked on Su-ya, who was still fast asleep. She climbed back into bed, the scent of the midnight omelet still on her breath and the feeling of the refined silk against her skin more vivid than ever.

In the hallway, Jungkook sat back down in the velvet chair. He didn't close his eyes. He stared into the darkness, the detailed image of Hazel in the midnight-blue silk with the intricate black lace burned into his mind. He knew he was overstaying his welcome, invading a privacy he was supposed to respect. He felt like a ghost haunting a life that was finally finding its rhythm. But as he listened to the quiet breathing from the room next door, he knew he wasn't going anywhere.

…

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of the villa, painting the nursery in soft, pearlescent hues of gold and cream. For Hazel, the morning ritual had become a sacred, private sanctuary. Today, the air felt different—thinner, yet charged with a quiet, domestic electricity that she was both afraid of and addicted to. She sat on the edge of the changing table, the tiny form of Suhwi resting before her like a delicate, living doll.

Hazel reached into the cedar chest where she had stored the Homecoming Collection—a set of clothes she had purchased in a haze of hopeful anticipation months ago. She pulled out a tiny, hand-knit romper in a soft, dusty rose, featuring intricate, scalloped ruffles along the shoulders and delicate pearl buttons down the front. Accompanying it were a pair of impossibly small, cream-colored socks, each topped with a tiny, knitted bear ear that stood upright.

Her fingers trembled as she dressed the infant. Suhwi was a bundle of soft, warm weight, and as Hazel maneuvered the ruffles around the baby's tiny arms, she felt a profound, aching sense of fulfillment. Suhwi was changing—the newborn fuzz on her head was darkening, and she had started to track objects with a newfound, singular focus. When Hazel pulled the tiny socks onto her feet, Suhwi let out a small, satisfied sigh, her little legs kicking with a newfound strength.

The door clicked open. Jungkook stood on the threshold, his posture as rigid as a soldier’s, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of something far less disciplined. He still wore his black tactical shirt, the fabric stretched tight across his shoulders. He stopped mid-step, his gaze landing on the baby.

He didn't see the contract, or the security risk, or the professional boundaries that were supposed to keep him in the hallway. He saw a tiny, ruffled flower of a child, dressed in rose and cream, looking up at him with wide, unblinking eyes. A ghost of a smile—soft, genuine, and devastatingly tender—tugged at the corner of his mouth before he could force it down.

Hazel was watching him. She had caught the shift, the way his shoulders dropped just an inch, the way his gaze turned from intense to luminous. She felt her heart stutter. "She’s ready for the day," Hazel said, her voice sounding breathless to her own ears. "Do you think the ruffles are too much?"

Jungkook cleared his throat, his expression snapping back into a mask of stoic professionalism. He looked at the floor, then at the bookshelf, then anywhere but at the tiny, heart-melting sight of the baby. "The structural integrity of the knit is sufficient for her mobility. It... it is appropriate."

"Appropriate," Hazel teased gently, though her pulse was hammering. "You’ve been staring for ten seconds, Jungkook. You don't have to be a guard to look at her."

"I am observing the environment for potential hazards," he replied, though his voice lacked its usual steel. He walked over to the changing table, his movements cautious, as if he were approaching a landmine. He reached out, his large, scarred index finger hovering over the tiny, knitted bear ear on Suhwi’s sock. He didn't touch it—he was clearly afraid of crushing the delicate wool—but the way he watched her, with such profound, quiet reverence, made Hazel’s chest ache.

"She’s been sleeping differently," Hazel said, watching him watch the baby. "She’s restless at night. She keeps waking up, searching for something."

Jungkook looked up, his eyes meeting hers. "Is the temperature inconsistent? I can adjust the thermostat to a more stable range."

"It’s not the temperature," Hazel said softly, holding his gaze. "I noticed something last night. When I put her in the bassinet, she cries. But when I tuck her into that blanket you used in the hospital—the one that still smells like the cedar and pine from your jacket—she settles down instantly. She seems to... crave the security."

The air in the room suddenly felt very thin. Jungkook looked at the blanket draped over the side of the crib, then back at Hazel. His mind went into immediate, painful overdrive. Is she saying she (suhwi) wants me? The question burned in the back of his throat, but he didn't dare voice it. He clung to the logic of the situation like a drowning man.

"The scent of a familiar presence acts as an olfactory anchor for the newborn," he said, his tone clinical. "It is a standard survival mechanism. It is not... it is not indicative of anything beyond a search for stability."

"Is that all it is?" Hazel asked, her voice a low, challenging whisper. "Just survival? Because I think she knows. I think she knows who makes her feel safe."

Jungkook felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine. He stepped back, putting distance between them, though the room felt far too small to house the tension between them. "I am a temporary variable, Hazel. It is not healthy for the infant to form an attachment to a variable that will be removed from the environment."

"And if I told you the variable wasn't being removed?" Hazel asked, her voice dropping.

Jungkook didn't answer. He couldn't. He stared at the bear-eared socks, his jaw set, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Room filled with the cries of Suhwi, they moved to the sunroom, a space where the morning light was blindingly bright. Hazel sat on the sofa, cradling Suhwi, while Jungkook stood by the glass doors, watching the garden. The baby was restless, her tiny hands kneading at the air, her face twisting in a small, adorable pout. Hazel lifted her, settling the infant against her chest.

Suhwi immediately calmed. Her little hand curled into the fabric of Hazel’s dress, and she pressed her ear against Hazel’s heart. The rhythm of the baby’s heartbeat began to sync with Hazel’s own, a deep, primal connection that seemed to fill the room with a heavy, rhythmic peace.

Hazel watched Jungkook, observing the way he subconsciously mirrored the baby’s restlessness. "You know," she began, her eyes tracing the line of his spine, "there’s a specific kind of heaviness that comes with holding her. It’s like the world just stops. You can feel the exact moment her heart starts to beat in time with yours. It’s the most intimate thing I’ve ever experienced."

Jungkook stood frozen, his eyes fixed on a distant tree. Her words were like a physical touch. He could imagine it—the warmth, the weight, the heartbeat. He could imagine Hazel’s skin against his own, the way she would look if she were pressing her heart against his. His body reacted with a sudden, violent surge of desire, and he felt a wave of shame wash over him.

"It is a biological necessity," he said, his voice strained. "The synchronicity of heart rates is a documented phenomenon in mother-infant bonding. It is designed to ensure the survival of the offspring."

"Is that all you see, Jungkook?" Hazel asked, her voice filled with a quiet, devastating sadness. "Just mechanics? Just survival?"

He turned then, his eyes dark with an emotion that was far from clinical. "I see a life that I have no right to occupy," he said, his voice vibrating with the strain of his restraint. "You talk about intimacy, Hazel... you talk about heartbeats and closeness... and you do not realize that every word you speak is a reminder of the chasm between us. I am the guard. You are the life. The lines are drawn for a reason."

"The lines were drawn by a contract," she countered, her voice trembling. "And that contract is over."

"The contract is over," he repeated, his gaze dropping to the floor, "but the consequence of my presence remains. I am not the father she was supposed to have. I am the man who came after the storm. And I have no intention of becoming a ghost in this house."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Suhwi shifted in Hazel’s arms, letting out a small, huffing sound as she drifted into a deeper sleep. Hazel looked down at her daughter, feeling the weight of the baby against her chest, and then looked back at Jungkook.

He was standing there, a man built to hold the world on his shoulders, yet he looked utterly fragile. He wanted to be the ground for them—she saw it in the way he stood, in the way he protected, in the way he cared for their tiny domestic needs—but he was too afraid to claim the life he was already living.

"You aren't a ghost, Jungkook," Hazel said softly, her eyes pleading. "Ghosts don't make omelets at four in the morning. Ghosts don't stare at a baby's bear-eared socks like their heart is breaking. You are here. You are solid. And I don't know how to tell you that I don't want you to be anything else."

Jungkook looked at her, his expression a battlefield of logic and longing. He wanted to walk across the room. He wanted to take the baby from her arms, not because she was a risk, but because she was theirs. He wanted to press his forehead against Hazel’s and tell her that the sentinel had fallen in love with the life he was supposed to defend.

But he didn't move. He remained the barrier.

"The recovery metrics," he said, his voice thick with a forced, robotic detachment, "indicate that your blood pressure is still volatile. I will maintain my post. I will handle the infant's care requirements. But we must maintain our focus. The child... Suhwi needs structure. She does not need the chaos of our... of this."

"You think this is chaos?" Hazel asked, a small, sad smile touching her lips. "I think this is the first time I’ve felt like I’m actually breathing since the delivery."

Jungkook looked away, his jaw tight. "I will prepare the noon meal. You should attempt to sleep while the infant is resting."

He walked out of the room, his footsteps heavy and measured. Hazel stayed on the sofa, holding the weight of her daughter, feeling the echo of his heartbeat in the room. She knew he wouldn't go far. She knew he would be sitting in that velvet chair, watching the door, guarding her, loving her, and denying it all in the same breath.

She looked down at the tiny, rose-colored ruffles of Suhwi’s romper. "He’s stubborn, isn't he, Su-ya?" she whispered into the baby’s hair.

Suhwi didn't answer. She only stirred, her tiny hand curling tighter around Hazel’s thumb, anchoring them both to the moment.

…

The silence that Jungkook left behind was not empty; it was pressurized, like the air before a thunderstorm. Hazel remained on the sunroom sofa, the sunlight now sharp and uncompromising as it hit the cream-colored rug. She felt the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of Suhwi’s breathing against her collarbone—a tiny, physical anchor in a world that felt increasingly unmoored.

She thought about his words. He saw himself as an intermission, a placeholder between a tragedy and a future he wasn't permitted to participate in. It was a martyrdom of his own making, a self-imposed exile from the very life he was protecting. And yet, she could still feel the phantom heat of his gaze when he had looked at the rose-colored romper. He wasn't just observing the baby; he was memorizing her. He was building a library of moments—the way Suhwi’s feet curled, the specific tint of the wool, the way her hair smelled—to sustain him for the day he would inevitably walk away.

Hazel stood up slowly, the transition of weight causing a small, sharp ache in her abdomen—a reminder that she was still mending. She moved to the nursery, placing Suhwi into the bassinet with the precision of someone handling a relic. As she smoothed the blanket over the baby’s legs, she noticed it: a small, dark sweater, folded neatly on the changing table. It was one she had meant to put on Suhwi earlier but had forgotten.

She picked it up, and the scent hit her instantly. It was faint—a mixture of cold air, cedar, and the sharp, clean scent of the tactical gear he insisted on maintaining. He had held this. He had moved it, probably to check if it was safe or clean for the baby.

Two hours later, the kitchen was a different world. Jungkook had returned to his standard sentinel persona—efficient, detached, and surgically precise. He was prepping lunch, his back to her as she entered the room. He had laid out a salad of arugula and grilled chicken, the colors vibrant and fresh.

Hazel walked to the counter, her movements slow. She sat on the stool, and Jungkook approached with the medical cuff. This was the most functional part of their day, the only time their physical boundaries were officially allowed to blur. He knelt, his height bringing him to eye level with her as he fastened the cuff around her upper arm to check her blood pressure.

He was so close that she could see the tiny, almost invisible scar near his eyebrow—the one she had traced with her thumb in the chaotic, adrenaline-fueled haze of the delivery room. He focused entirely on the screen of the blood pressure monitor, his expression unreadable.

"You are tense," he noted, his voice low.

"I'm tired, Jungkook," she replied, her eyes locked on his profile. "I'm tired of the monitors. I'm tired of the schedule. I'm tired of the way we act like we're strangers sharing a hotel room instead of two people living in a house that’s overflowing with... with everything."

He finished the reading and began to unwrap the cuff. His hands were steady, always steady, but as he moved to take the device away, he paused. He stayed there for a second too long, his hand resting on her arm, his thumb hovering just a hair’s breadth from her skin.

"We are not strangers," he said, his voice dropping into a register that made her breath hitch. He finally looked at her, his dark eyes searching hers with a desperate, raw honesty. "If we were strangers, I would have left four days ago. If we were strangers, I would not know that your heartbeat speeds up when I enter a room. If we were strangers, I would not be able to recite your recovery schedule backward in my sleep."

Hazel’s breath escaped her in a ragged sigh. "Then why? Why the masks? Why do you still follow as per the contract?"

Jungkook pulled his hand away as if he’d been burned, standing up abruptly. "Because the moment the masks fall, the reality remains. You have a past, Hazel. You have a history that is etched into the legal documents of this home. I am a man without a home, a man who lives in the shadows of other people's lives. I do not have the right to ask you to invite me into the light."

"I am inviting you," she said, her voice rising, though she kept it controlled. "I am standing here, in this kitchen, at two in the afternoon, telling you that I don't care about the shadows. I care that you are the only person who knows how to make me feel safe enough to sleep."

"Safety is a temporary condition," he retorted, his voice tight. "My role is to manage risks. My role is to ensure you survive the transition. Anything beyond that is a distraction I cannot afford."

The tension was shattered by a sharp, thin cry from the baby monitor sitting on the counter. Suhwi was awake.

The spell was broken. Jungkook immediately turned toward the monitor, his posture shifting back into that of a protector. "She requires attention. I will check the diaper while you prepare for the feeding."

He was already moving, his stride long and purposeful, leaving Hazel in the quiet, empty kitchen. She grabbed the counter to steady herself, her heart feeling like it was being squeezed in a vice. He was running again. Every time the truth got too close, he used the baby as a distraction, a shield, a reason to retreat into the professional hierarchy of their lives.

In the nursery, the scene was chaotic. Suhwi was wide awake, her little face scrunched up, her tiny legs kicking with impressive force. Jungkook was standing by the bassinet, his expression one of mild panic—not because he didn't know what to do, but because he was so clearly enchanted by the small, demanding creature.

"She is... she is quite vocal today," he said, his voice sounding uncharacteristically boyish. He was trying to soothe her by dangling a small, soft-textured toy near her reach.

Hazel walked in, watching them. The sight was enough to bring her to her knees.

"She’s just hungry," Hazel said, walking over and taking the baby into her arms. She moved to the chair and began the process of settling in. She looked up and saw Jungkook watching her, his eyes tracing the line of her throat, his expression stripped of all the clinical distance he’d been trying to maintain.

"You look..." he started, then stopped, his jaw working as he tried to swallow the words but couldn’t.

"Exhausted?" she finished for him.

"No," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Different. In a way that is... distracting to my duty."

The room went deathly quiet. The only sound that mattered was the sudden, sharp intake of breath from both of them. He had finally acknowledged that she was more than a charge, more than a patient, more than a contract. She was a woman who was unraveling him, thread by thread.

"Jungkook," Hazel said, her voice a plea.

He held up a hand, his face pained. "Do not ask me to continue this conversation, Hazel. Not when you are holding her. Not when I am standing here."

He looked at her, his eyes burning with a dark, intense heat. "I am a man who is trained to calculate outcomes, and every outcome I calculate leads to the same conclusion—that I should be miles from this house. But I cannot make my feet move. That is the only reality I am interested in addressing."

He turned on his heel and walked out of the room, his shadow lingering in the doorway long after he had gone.

Hazel sat in the rocking chair, her heart feeling both shattered and completely, terrifyingly full. He had admitted it. He had admitted that he was trapped—that his duty was fighting his own mind.

She looked down at Suhwi, who was now drifting back into a milk-drunk slumber, her tiny fingers clutching the lace of Hazel’s nursing gown.

"Did you hear him, Su-ya?" she whispered into the baby’s hair. "He thinks he’s a ghost. But he’s the only one here who’s truly fighting to stay."

She leaned her head back against the chair, closing her eyes. She knew what she had to do now. The medical excuse was a start, but it was just a stall tactic. She needed to break down his walls, layer by layer, until there was nothing left for him to hide behind.

She looked at the small, dark sweater he had touched, still resting on the changing table. It was a sign of his presence, a proof of his care. He wasn't leaving. He was fighting his own restraint, and for the first time, Hazel felt like she was finding the gaps in his armor.

Outside, the sun began to set, casting long, orange ribbons of light across the nursery floor. The villa was quiet, but the air inside was vibrating, the tension now officially at its breaking point. They were two people standing on either side of an invisible line, both waiting for the other to finally, finally move.

The night would come soon. And tonight, Hazel decided, she wasn't going to hide in the shadows of a kitchen pantry. She was going to find him. And she was going to make sure that the sentinel finally understood that his watch didn't end with a contract. It ended when he decided to stay—not as a guard, but as the man she had been waiting for.

…

Taglist: @amorsarasstuff @jkgivinsleeplessnites @ivykeanna @ceellliiinee @applepli @slxtforkoo @lovingkoalaface @emmie2308 @annpeachy @xohellokitty12 @jkxlvrr @mikrokookiex @jksusawife @jjkkkk15 @ianeaniee @brokebitch-101

[jeonstudios]

anatomy of a vampire. jjk | 01

a young man returns to a small town he hasn't seen in years, and a house he hasn't lived in since before the last president was born, only to find that a stray cat has given birth to kittens in his closet.

pairing: vampire!jeongguk x nerdy f veterinarian!reader (with a special interest in the science and biology aspect of the supernatural lol)

genre: sorta scifi-ish, fluff, minor angst, some smut later on

word count: 4.7k

warnings: none in this part (maybe anatomy talk/vet talk?), but there's gonna be like... inspection kink-stuff later on 🤪 more detailed warnings to come <3

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 1/? 

<previous | next>

© anatomy of a vampire is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

You’re halfway through your lunch when Namjoon pokes his head into the break room, a stethoscope around his neck and thick-rimmed glasses low on his nose.

“Reception just got a call about a home visit.”

“Today?” you ask, your mouth full of chicken sandwich as you glance at your wristwatch. You and Namjoon are way too close for you to care about being ladylike.

“Mhm.”

You pause. Not many clinics in your small town offer home visits, and even fewer do it on short notice. For your clinic, it’s usually about an old dog being put to rest at home—incredibly sad, but not an emergency. 

“Is it urgent?”

“Not on the minute, but needs done today.”

You glance at the patient chart on the table in front of you. “I think this’ll be quick. I’ll go after this one.”

“You sure?” Namjoon asks. “Technically, it’s my turn.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. You should see Oakley when he comes; he’s not very fond of me.”

Oakley, a returning patient with chronic stomach issues, has managed to spray paint you a yellowy brown on three different occasions. From both ends. It’s like he aims.

Namjoon snorts. He hasn’t been hit once.

Checking your watch again, you push the last bite of your sandwich into your mouth, chewing it while you grab the chart. Namjoon is already on his way to greet another patient and their owner, and you take a second to swallow and wipe any crumbs off your scrubs before you follow his lead, heading into the waiting area.

“Millie?” you call, smiling when a young woman rises from a chair, her red dachshund's nose practically glued to the clinic floor.

It’s two-thirty when you pull out of the clinic parking lot, the clinic’s old station wagon rattling faintly as you steer onto the main road. The address in the confirmation email is farther out than you expected but still technically within the town limits, and you watch the short apartment buildings give way to larger, more spaced-out houses as you drive.

You don’t often find yourself in this part of town these days, although you’re very familiar with at least one house here. Many Halloweens were spent here back in the day, kids dressed up as various creatures daring each other to fight through the overgrown lawn and peek inside the dark windows. Countless stories were told about the abandoned house, each one slightly more insane than the last. Of course, you were like… eight, and a large, seemingly empty white house with a big, black gable was doomed to be haunted.

Still, you’re very surprised when you stop at the red pin on your phone’s screen, and it’s outside that very house. Momo, who works the reception, must’ve forgotten to fill out the pet owner’s name on the confirmation form she sent you, so all you have is this address and a brief line of patient info.

Even though the sky is gray—fittingly enough threatening September rain—it’s not as scary as you remember. Probably because it’s not a dark Halloween night, and you’re not a kid anymore. It also doesn’t actually seem to be abandoned. To be fair, it was never really run-down aside from the lawn, but now there’s a big black SUV parked outside. 

Getting out of the car, you grab the rectangular veterinary kit bag, accidentally shutting the trunk a little too hard. The sound echoes down the quiet street, letting anyone who wasn’t already aware know of your arrival. A chilly breeze has you pulling your softshell jacket tighter over your light blue scrubs as you lock the car. When you turn back to the house, you pause to take it in once more. It’s a pretty house—two-story, painted white probably a long time ago but still holding up surprisingly well. Black shutters frame the dark windows, and the tall, black gabled roof reaches impressively toward the gray sky. The lawn has either been trimmed within the last few years, or your childhood imagination really exaggerated it because you can clearly recall it looking more like a thicket with tall grass than just… an overgrown lawn. You distinctly remember more... shrubs.

Climbing the shallow steps, you stop in front of the black-painted door and raise your hand to knock. As you wait, you tilt your head back, once again letting your gaze linger on the house. Who exactly are you here to meet? Maybe it’s some introverted old woman who rarely leaves her house? Or a grumpy old man? But then again, the SUV looked awfully modern. Maybe the ancient resident has a grandchild visiting?

A short moment later, the door opens with a slight creak.

It’s not an old lady; it’s a young man. A tall young man—probably the most attractive one you’ve ever seen—looking down at you. He’s broad-shouldered and lean, visibly fit even despite the thick, black hoodie and baggy jeans he wears. You try not to stare at the shadow created in the fabric between his pecs, or the way the oversized hoodie still somehow manages to cling to the top of his bicep as he keeps one hand on the door handle. His black, relatively straight hair doesn’t look styled, just like it naturally falls into its part, the sides of it a little shorter than the top. Everything about him screams effortless, like he just wakes up looking like that.

One thing’s for sure: he wasn’t who you expected to open the door.

“Uh, hi,” you introduce yourself, telling him your name, “Did you… call for a vet?”

For some reason, he looks almost as surprised as you. “Hey. I did, yeah. I’m Jeongguk.”

Though he smiles politely, he doesn’t offer his hand for you to shake. It’s not something you dwell on. Quite a few of the pet owners you meet prefer not to shake hands.

“Come in.”

You nod and step inside, having to almost squeeze past him in the narrow hallway as he shuts the door behind you. Like always when you enter a strange man’s home alone, you say a little prayer in your head. If it came to it, you’ve got a bunch of pointy things in your bag, but you’d still prefer it if he wasn’t crazy to begin with.

As you move past him, you’re almost surprised that you don’t… smell him. Men—at least in this town—are very fond of their colognes and sprays, but you don’t catch even the slightest whiff of him. You wouldn’t say that you particularly enjoy the strong… scents, but the total lack of one from a hunk like this is almost disappointing.

When you go to slip your shoes off, he stops you. 

“Keep them on,” he says, voice kept low due to the distance. Or rather, the lack thereof. “It’s… not very clean.” 

There’s something in the casual smile he gives you besides an attractiveness you’ve never seen before. Maybe it’s a tad of… sheepishness? It doesn’t matter; your skin still heats under his gaze

“Oh, okay,” you say, trying to remain unbothered and professional while waiting for him to take the lead. Luckily, you don’t think he notices.

Even with the heads-up, you’re not sure what surprises you more as you follow him into the house—the layers and layers of dust, or the Edwardian, neoclassical interior design. The faded, beige walls are paneled, and as he leads you toward a staircase, you catch a glimpse of what appears to be the living room through an open archway. In it, you spot a pale green velvet sofa and two upholstered armchairs, fitting right in. There’s also a rectangular fireplace, a gold-framed mirror above it, and what catches your interest the most: a chandelier. Its size is impressive, and so is the fact that it looks like it was made for real, live candles. The same goes for the brass wall sconces placed on either side of the fireplace. You’ve only ever seen those in movies.

“They’re up here,” he says, and you nod, reaching for the wooden railing as you follow him up the stairs.

The steps creak loudly beneath your weight—another reminder of just how old this house probably is. At the landing, he turns, leading you to a bedroom. It’s surprisingly small for a house this size, but it’s cozy and warm in a way you weren’t expecting. You guess the clouds outside have eased up a little because the smallest ray of sunlight filters through the practically sheer beige curtains and highlights the dust particles floating in the air.

The four-poster bed is made from dark wood, its canopy rails bare and the headboard curled softly. Like most things, the white sheets appear pretty much untouched, and the only real signs of life are the footsteps disturbing the dust on the floor. You've followed a path all the way from the door, and when you look closer, you see paw prints venturing outside it.

Noticing your lingering gaze, Jeongguk scratches the back of his neck.

“I haven’t been here in a while.”

You figured. It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here since… the late 1800s. Although it’s certainly a stylistic choice—and one you wouldn’t have expected from someone so young and otherwise modern-looking—it has its charm. Even if you’re not sure there’s even electricity or running water.

“I arrived earlier today and found them here,” Jeongguk continues, approaching a standalone wooden wardrobe placed against the wall. One door is already slightly ajar, but when he carefully opens it wider, you see them. The cat with kittens. “I read that you’re not supposed to move them.”

The mother cat, who looks to be all black, has made a little nest on top of a crisp white shirt that’s fallen from its hanger above.

“Oh,” you breathe, crouching slowly to get a better look. “They’re brand new.”

“Yeah. And I think one is smaller than the others.”

Your eyes travel over the small beings, each with varying patches of white to go with the black. None of them, from what you can tell, have even opened their eyes yet. The mother cat stops licking one of the kittens to give you a warning hiss. You listen, rising to your feet and turning away, a plan already in mind.

“Okay, I brought some food that might help lure her out,” you say, setting the bag down on the floor and crouching to reach into it. “This stuff’s usually pretty irresistible…”

But when you look back at the man—a jar gripped in your hand—he’s already holding the mother cat. Just straight around her middle, as if he’s never held a cat before. She doesn’t seem to mind very much, just hangs there, looking around.

Jeongguk looks at you, a little surprised too.

“Oh, okay. She seems to like you better,” you smile. You can’t help but think that he looks… sweet. A big, clearly very muscular and attractive man who’s liked by animals? It’s definitely both a green flag and a personal weakness for you.

The food goes back into the bag, and you reach for the equipment you’ll need instead. With a stethoscope around your neck, a small kitchen scale, and a thermometer, you kneel in front of the wardrobe. In the meantime, Jeongguk sits down on the bed, the cat perched on his lap. He keeps his large hands around her, gently keeping her in place in case she changes her mind.

Very gently, you reach for the smallest kitten first. It squirms in your hands, mouth open and paws sticking out in a silent protest. 

“Sex is notoriously tricky to tell on kittens, especially this small, so I’m not even gonna try,” you say with a smile, giving the kitten a general once-over before focusing on its face. It’s a sweet little thing, crying a little as you inspect it. This one is mostly black but with two white front paws.

“Well, I’d definitely say they’re only a day or two old. This one has a suckle reflex but hasn’t opened its eyes yet. That usually happens between day five and fourteen. The umbilical stump is still attached too, and that usually falls off around day two to four.”

“So that’s… good?” Jeongguk asks, and when you look at him, the mother cat is bumping her head against his abdomen. He peers down at her on his lap, extending his veiny hand in a wordless offer. She accepts it, rubbing her head against his palm and letting him pet her.

“Yeah. That’s normal.”

You return your focus to the little being in your hands, carefully looking into its mouth again to check its gums and palate. 

“Pink gums and no cleft. That’s good, too.”

With one hand, you grab the stethoscope from your neck, putting the earpieces in place. Getting a clear heart or lung reading on kittens this tiny isn’t easy. Their heart rate is fast, making it easy to miss abnormalities, and their small, wriggling bodies make it hard to even position the chestpiece properly in the first place.

Focusing, you hold the kitten still, placing the stethoscope on the left side of its chest just behind the elbow. Then you listen closely, trying to ignore the soft purring from the adult cat.

It sounds… good. Alright, at least. Shifting the stethoscope slightly, you first listen to one lung and then the other. You don’t notice anything abnormal there, either.

“Heart and lungs sound okay,” you declare, slipping the stethoscope back around your neck.

“What’s next?”

“Temperature,” you answer, reaching for the digital thermometer.

“What should their temperature be?”

“Somewhere between thirty-six and thirty-six point five degrees Celsius.”

“Isn’t that a little low? I mean, compared to a human?”

“Adult cats are more similar to humans, but kittens generally run a little colder,” you explain, focusing on getting the reading right. “They don’t have the ability to regulate their body temperature properly for the first couple of weeks.”

The thermometer beeps.

“Thirty-six point two,” you mumble. “So that’s within the range. A little low, but not necessarily dangerous.”

With one hand, you reach for the kitchen scale, setting it on the floor in front of you. It powers on, and once it’s ready, you place the kitten on it, keeping your hand floating above in case the little animal tries to wiggle off the tray.

The number settles, and you read it out loud. “Eighty-one grams.”

“Too small?” Jeongguk wonders.

“On the lower side, but not dangerously so. At least not yet.”

You take the kitten and carefully place it back in the makeshift nest for the moment. Before reaching for another kitten to examine in the same way, you grab a small notebook in your bag, quickly jotting down the numbers so you don’t forget them.

Jeongguk looks on as you inspect the rest of the four kittens, occasionally asking another question. It’s not unusual for pet owners to ask questions, but considering these aren’t even his cats—and from what you gathered, he only found them today—it makes your chest warm. Not everyone would go to such lengths for stray cats. It also doesn’t help your growing soft spot that you get to talk about animals and their anatomy to someone who seems to want to listen. After all, you’re a bit of a nerd, and this is your number one fascination.

One by one, the kittens get their clean bill of health and are placed back on the shirt, and then you shift your focus to their mother. She’s standing on Jeongguk’s lap, still headbutting his chest. While she’s preoccupied, you quietly reach into your bag for the microchip scanner, but the moment you try to get close, she notices and hisses. 

“Give it a try, please?” You hold the scanner out to Jeongguk, keeping as much distance as you can. “Press this button and move the scanner over her, focusing on her neck and back.”

Jeongguk takes the scanner from your outreached hand, doing as you instructed and pressing the button. It beeps, and he begins to move it over her.

“Like this?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed almost angrily as he focuses.

You nod encouragingly. “Yeah.”

“Is it to see if she has an owner?”

“Yes. But sometimes, even if they are microchipped, there's not a registered owner. But we can hope.”

He continues to search for a chip, but when nothing happens, he looks at you with those dark eyes, silently asking what to do.

“Try her belly and even her legs. Sometimes, they migrate.”

Adjusting his grip on the scanner, he moves it lower.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” he says a moment later, handing the scanner back to you.

“Yeah,” you sigh, taking it to put it back in the bag. Although disappointed, you’re not surprised. “Would you mind helping me check her out? She seems to really like you. A whole lot better than she likes me, at least.”

He matches the soft smile you give him. “Sure.”

“Okay, well, she seems to be in okay condition, but I need to rule out any birth-related injuries. 

“What do I do?” he asks, scooting closer to the edge of the bed, the cat still happy to receive his attention. 

“Just… hold her like that… Yes, exactly. And with your other hand, move her tail away for me?”

A little awkwardly, he follows your instructions again, and while you don’t think the cat particularly enjoys it, she doesn’t fight it. You move closer, trying to get a better look while doing your best not to stare at his veiny hands instead. In any other setting, they’d be way too much of a distraction, but knowing that this cat depends on you to evaluate her health, you divert your gaze.

“Alright… I don’t see anything... unusual, no swelling, no blood, no discharge. If she were injured, you’d usually spot it, but she’s not thrilled with me, so I won’t push it,” you chuckle, leaning back.

Having animals dislike you is unfortunately part of the job. Sometimes, it hurts your heart a little, but when you remember that it’s easy for an animal to associate the scrubs or equipment with something unpleasant and maybe even painful, it makes more sense. Briefly, you wonder if this cat has ever been to a vet or if her dislike for you stems from something else. It’s definitely normal for new mothers to have a bit of an attitude, but you’d think that would include every human in the room. Or maybe she doesn’t dislike you in particular; maybe she just really likes Jeongguk. Which... you know, fair.

Almost as if sensing that the examination is over, the black cat jumps down from Jeongguk’s lap, leaping past you to get to her babies. 

“Alright,” you say, wiping your hands on your pants before you stand up. “It’s important not to disturb them too much, but they’ll still need some supervision—especially the small one—just to make sure they continue to eat and grow. And they’ll need a better place to nest, somewhere a little warmer, softer, and less… dusty. No offense.”

Jeongguk chuckles, standing up as well and brushing some cat hairs from his hoodie. “None taken.”

“So, if you want me to, I can take them with me. We have a foster program and a few great volunteers.”

Jeongguk looks down at you, his brows furrowed in confusion this time. “I thought they were too small to be moved?”

“Yeah,” you nod, bending down to quickly gather the rest of the used equipment and put it back in the bag. “Ideally, they wouldn’t need to be. But I understand if you can’t or don't want to look after a stray cat and her kittens.”

“No, it’s… uh… It’s fine,” he says, appearing to land in a decision and sticking by it, his eyes traveling to the little bodies nestled into the white shirt. “It’s not that hard, right? Just keep an eye on them? If you think I can do it, of course. I already have a litter box.”

You blink, a little surprised. “You just happened to have a litter box?”

“No, I asked some neighbors after I called you. I figured you'd have some tips about the other stuff. Like food and such.”

Your smile grows as you watch him. He is… oddly endearing. “Yeah. Of course,” you say, your voice softening. The fewer cats and kitten taking up the very limited space at the volunteers', the better. “Okay.”

You begin drafting an email to send to him. It includes everything you've talked about plus cat food recommendations for the mother cat and a link to a cat bed that’s cheap but comfortable enough for a nursing litter. While you write, you talk him through everything again, like what to watch for, when to weigh them, and what to do if anything seems off.

He asks a few questions, making it very clear—if it wasn’t already—that he doesn’t really have any experience with animals. While he’s never appeared scared or nervous during your visit, you can tell that he’s not quite sure what to do. He moves slowly, almost a little awkwardly around the cats, but it’s more like he doesn’t want to scare them.

“You really like animals,” he points out, watching you tuck your notebook back into the bag.

You glance up at him. His tone isn’t mocking but more... curious. Still, you nod, a little self-conscious of how nerdy you can be.

“Yeah, animals are incredible. Not only because they’re such good companions—some of them at least—but, they’re so fascinating? How they function and how they’ve evolved.”

But there’s something else in his curious gaze that you finally pick up on, and it dawns on you.

“You think I’m a freak too, don’t you?” you say with a smile, pulling the stethoscope you’d forgotten to pack from around your neck and tucking it into the bag as well.

“No, no,” he shakes his head.

You lift an eyebrow. “But you know about it? My paper?”

His eyes are so dark. “Yeah…”

You look away, trying not to let it affect your professionalism. Speaking about it brings up memories you’d rather not be reminded of. “I thought you said you hadn’t been here in forever?”

It’s weird, right? If he doesn’t live here and hasn’t been around in a long time, how would he know the gossip?

“Town called a few years ago. About the electrical wiring needing to be upgraded. So I came here to fix it.”

Oh. That makes sense, you guess. A few years ago was when it first happened. That’s probably also why the yard looked different from what you remembered.

“And you heard about it?”

He smiles apologetically. “Yeah. It’s a small town, I guess.”

“It’s not like I think Ariel is real. Or that dragons roam the sky or that Dracula lives in a dark castle somewhere, wearing a black cape over a white, frilly shirt,” you defend, slinging the bag over your shoulder. “I just wrote about how much we don’t actually know about the living organisms around us and how some of the 'supernatural' traits aren't really that crazy, anatomically speaking.”

“No, I get that,” he assures, sounding like he genuinely didn’t mean to upset you. “I found it very interesting.”

“So is that why you looked so surprised to see me? Because you recognized me?”

“No. Or… well, yeah. I spoke to the receptionist, and she told me a man’s name—Namjoon, I think—would come.”

“Oh.”

“But I did also vaguely recognize you, I think. From the image.”

Lifting your wrist, you glance at the watch. “I should start to head back. Lock the clinic up.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Jeongguk says, and when you meet his dark eyes again, he looks genuine. “I don’t think you’re a freak, I promise.”

“It’s alright,” you say, offering him a quick smile. “I’m not supposed to be out this long anyway. I have to get back and finish up the bill. I’ll email it to you along with the advice, is that okay?”

He nods, clearly accepting that he did in fact upset you to some degree. “Okay. Thank you for the help.”

You smile again, relaxing your shoulders and taking a deep breath. Maybe you should cut him some slack. Technically, he wasn’t even the one to bring your paper up; that was all you. And besides very, very handsome, you haven’t once thought of him as anything other than sweet.

"No problem."

The drive back to the clinic is quiet. You don’t even turn the prehistoric radio on. It doesn’t matter because your thoughts are loud enough anyway, circling back to one thing. One thing and one person.

The paper you wrote in vet school was a mistake. Not that it was bad per se—it was a perfectly science-based paper, focused on the more unusual biological traits found in the animal kingdom. 

Unfortunately, you made the grave mistake of connecting some of those traits to various mythical creatures and their ‘unbelievable’ biology. Some of your peers—predominantly men—found it absolutely ridiculous and teased you for it. The more you tried to defend yourself, the funnier they thought it was.

You’d think it at least would’ve stayed within whatever small circle vet med is, but when your small town happens to be known specifically for the vet med program, a surprisingly large chunk of the population has some connection to it. You’re lucky that not many wish to stay in town after graduating, or you would’ve been last on the list to get a job. You still remember your current boss’s inspecting eyes as she interviewed you, trying to make sure you weren’t actually batshit crazy. That was maybe five or so years ago, and you haven’t really had to think about the paper in probably at least a year. 

Until today. Again, it wasn’t Jeongguk’s fault, you don’t think he even meant for it to be brought up. It still caught you off guard, though, because even if you don’t know him, he didn’t give off the same vibe as the people who laughed at you. And now, you can’t stop thinking about him. About his build, and how the oversized clothes hung off his strong, muscular body. Or his large, veiny hands as he gently pet the mother cat. His dark eyes, sharp jaw, and strong eyebrows. Even his nose—with its straight bridge and softly rounded tip, creating such a striking, masculine profile—had a way of completely mesmerizing you.

Not only is he probably the most attractive man you’ve seen in a long time—maybe ever, but he seemed… warm. You wouldn’t expect a man like him to care for a stray cat and her newborn kittens, much less call a vet out to help, but he did.

Back at the clinic, you take a seat in front of the desktop computer, typing your notes into the chart and updating the bill. Besides the obviously tragic parts of dealing with sick and injured animals, the worst part is probably billing the owners. You need money to live just like everyone else, but you’ll always feel wrong charging worried owners to care for their family members. Even now, as you’re adding the services to… Jeon Jeongguk’s bill, you think about how the cats don’t even belong to him.

The cursor hovers over his name. Who is he? How did he come to be the owner of that house, and why own it if he’s not living there or at least visiting regularly? Why bother even fixing the electrical wiring if it’s just gonna stay empty? And just how long had it been empty?

The questions whirl in your head. Though it’s not really any of your business why he returned, maybe you could’ve at least asked him where he’s from? It would’ve been acceptable small talk, right? Could you also have asked why he felt the need to take care of the cats, even when you offered to take them off his hands, or would that have been rude? 

Realizing that you’re not getting anywhere, you bill him for a standard home visit of half an hour—even though you stayed closer to one—and for the gas just so you don’t lose money on the visit. You don’t add the same day fee or charge him for the used materials.

<previous | next>

author's note: i hope you liked it and are excited for the rest because i think it's gonna be good!!! i also had some moodboard pics of the house made so let me know if you'd like to see them <3

[itsvminkook]

MAKNAE LINE BTS - "2.0" official MV

[gukcnt]

‧˚꒰ HIS DOLL, ALWAYS ୭ ˚. JJK ᵎᵎ {smau}

long distance love gets messy when jungkook's jealousy kicks in, and he'll go to any lengths to win you back.

pairing — bf!jungkook x gf!femreader

genre — established relationship, slice of life, comedy, romance, smut, fluff, angst

warnings/tags — 18+, explicit smut, possessive!jungkook, fake texts, argument, miscommunication, longing and yearning, silent treatment, confrontation, sexting, love confessions

status — completed. (✓)

「 MASTERLIST | READ ON WATTPAD 」

ᥫ᭡ index :

╰┈➤ 01. 02. 03. 04. 05 ˎˊ˗

© GUKCNT — all rights reserved. | divider by @/angeliicide

[likecatie]

honestly this little smau was reallly good!! i absolutely loved it 🫶 i may or may not have read this in the wrong way and started with the last part 🫣 thanks a lot for writing this and sharing it with us 💜

[heybaetae]

🧠 + 💾 = ❌

[jung-koook]

jin’s reaction to tae asking armys to date him lmaoooooo (cr. movewithsope)