#drummer hoseok

[glossdebut]

PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ 01

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SERIES SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.

✧ SERIES TAGS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fake/pretend relationship (not main couple), rockstar!yoongi, model!reader, guitarist yoongi, singer jungkook, bassist taehyung, drummer jimin, manager namjoon, yoongi & maknae line are in a rock band, reader & seokjin are best friends, yoongi & hoseok are best friends (sope duo ftw), yoongi has a tongue piercing, reader is a brat

✧ CHAPTER WARNINGS: recreational drinking, yoongi is an asshole (see series masterlist for series warnings)

✧ CHAPTER WORDCOUNT: 6.1k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: NEW ERA NEW ERA NEW ERA! whew!!! i’m excited for this one! this is going to be a loooong ride, so buckle up and enjoy! please note the slow burn tag on this one, because i’m not joking around with it. trust me, it’s going to hurt me just as much as it hurts you.

a HUGE thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for continuing to beta read for me <3 your commentary never fails to make me laugh and your edits save my life.

P.S. everything i know about the korean music industry is informed by my years as a kpop fan. i don’t know much about the rock scene there, so expect inaccuracies galore going forward. i do my due diligence where i can, but that can only help so much.

CH. 01: ALL YOU PEOPLE ARE VAMPIRES!

You aren’t entirely sure when you stopped feeling at home in places like this. There has to be some kind of defining event, some kind of indicator of The Before and The After, but every time you try and figure it out you come up short.

In The Before, not all that long ago, you would be scrounging for the bus fare rattling around in your pockets to get to a place like this as soon as you punched out from your shift at the Speedy Mart.

During your short stint in college, your friends didn’t understand your obsession. Music venues, to them, were fun for a weekend’s night out. The thrill of flashing a fake ID, of flirting with the musicians after their set, of getting said musicians to buy them drinks—it was a satisfying rebellion, a fun story to tell people at school and hide from their parents.

But you were there every day, even after classes and graveyard shifts under fluorescent lights, always racing to the nearest show without even changing out of your polo. It was never a rebellion to you. The lights, the thumping bass, the secondhand smoke—it made every nerve ending in your body light up.

You were born in this smoke, as far as you’re concerned.

Maybe it’s different now because it’s work to be here. But what isn’t work, these days? Your life is micromanaged down to the minutiae—the meals you eat, the products you use in your hair, your goddamn piss breaks. There’s no clocking out for you, no gasp of relief that comes after. Such is life for one of Seoul’s many playthings.

Even in the dead of winter, your stylist, Hyerin, has you in a dress that begs to be pulled down every five minutes like clockwork. 

You learned a long time ago to bite your tongue on matters like this. The brands you work for pay you for the exposure you give them, after all. The chill that settles in your bones from the ten steps you take from your paid car to the venue door will be well worth it next time you count the zeroes in your bank account. At least, that’s what Hyerin told you as she pushed you out of the car and into the cold.

Wasteland looks the same as it did the very first night you ever stepped foot inside. Same red, glowing guitar sign above the entrance. Same shitty overpriced drinks. Same sticky floors. It’s nice that some things never change even when you do.

You’ve never been on the balcony, though. You’ve gotta hand it to Jeongguk—he’s really pulling out all the stops. To your knowledge, the balcony is normally reserved for VIPs. Close friends and family of the band, other celebrities, lucky and well-connected fans. Significant others. You suppose you fall under more than one of those categories now.

The crowd gathered on this side of the stage buzzes incessantly around you, waiting for the set to start. The excitement is palpable, and you understand why. It’s the very last show of Burn The Stage’s very first world tour following the release of their third studio album, and they’re ending it here: in Seoul. At Wasteland no less, the venue that housed the show that got them signed in the first place. Of course people are excited.

If you were the same person you were in The Before, you would be, too. 

Instead, as the stage lights go down and the crowd roars around you, you down the rest of your drink and pray it’ll do its job and calm your fidgeting. For a split second, the thought that maybe you shouldn’t be drunk tonight passes through your brain, but it disappears as quickly as it comes. Your hopes of making a good first impression were squandered as soon as Hyerin zipped up your dress. 

Besides, it’s not as if Jeongguk picked you for your shining reputation. More like the opposite.

With a flash of lights and a cacophony of sound, Burn The Stage launches into their first song on the setlist. The crowd roars around you, but you’re not here as a fan, so you try to remember everything Jeongguk taught you in preparation for tonight.

If you weren’t already close, most everything there is to learn about Jeon Jeongguk himself could easily be found with a simple Naver search.

Not only is Jeongguk the lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist of Burn The Stage, but he’s also the de facto face of the band, and he couldn’t be better suited for the job. He’s beautiful. Like, seriously beautiful. Well-built and knows it, sings songs about love and sex and anger with the sweetest voice known to man, covered in tattoos and piercings that eommas everywhere pretend to disapprove of when they’re actually ogling just as much as their daughters. He’s a teenage girl’s wet dream, and with that comes hordes of them using the deductive skills of the NIS to figure out the last time he took a shit. Very little in his life is a secret, whether he likes it or not.

The rest of the band, in turn, gets the luxury of a little bit of mystery.

Park Jimin, the drummer, and Kim Taehyung, the bassist. Jeongguk’s best friends in the world. You’ve met them both in passing before, at industry events here and there, and they both seemed nice enough. 

Jimin has a bit of a reputation for being temperamental, angry, but the way Jeongguk describes him paints him as something gentle. Childhood friends who’ve known each other since scraped knees and runny noses. 

It’s public knowledge that Jimin wanted to be a dancer, before this—that when he was in college, he suffered an injury that ended his dancing career before it even started. One moment he was one of the most promising ballet students in Seoul, and the next he was retired at nineteen. He doesn’t like to talk about it, but every time the band is interviewed the question is inevitably asked. Do you have any regrets? You’ve watched the videos, seen the way he shakes with anger even as he answers with a saccharine smile. You have a feeling getting along with Jimin won’t pose any challenges for you. You know a thing or two about regrets.

Taehyung is a bit harder to figure out, but not in any way that sparks concern. He’s just an interesting guy that way. 

He was the last to join the band, the first to answer a ‘BASS PLAYER NEEDED’ ad posted around the city. Apparently, he was so good that they didn’t feel the need to call anyone else.

He lives in his own world, does his own thing. Posts very artistic photo dumps on his Instagram with concerningly cryptic captions. He’s quiet when he’s around people he doesn’t know, but when he’s put in a room with Jimin and Jeongguk he becomes the loudest person there. He’s kind, caring, always seems to know the right thing to say even if it’s delivered in the strangest manner possible.

Jimin and Taehyung won’t cause any problems for you. Jeongguk assured you that they’d be easy to win over, that as long as Jeongguk likes you, you’re in with them. 

The real wild card is the guitarist. Min Yoongi.

According to Jeongguk, Burn The Stage wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for Yoongi. When the band formed, they were just dumb kids with a shared dream, but Yoongi was the one to set it all in motion. 

When they didn’t have anywhere to practice, Yoongi convinced the ajumma he worked for to let him cram as much equipment as he could fit into a tiny noraebang room. When venues wouldn’t book them without the guarantee that they would draw a crowd, Yoongi burned hundreds of CDs and stood on the streets of Hongdae begging people to listen. When shady entertainment companies started offering them laughable contracts, Yoongi found Namjoon and somehow convinced him to manage them for dirt cheap. When they finally got an offer worth taking, Yoongi made them mull it over for as long as they possibly could. Weigh the pros and cons and decide if it was what they really wanted.

If Jeongguk is the face of the band, Yoongi is the heart. Unfortunately for you, this particular heart is very well-guarded.

Yoongi takes his privacy seriously. He refuses to answer interview questions he deems too personal, he doesn’t use social media. When asked why, his answer is always that he wants the music to speak for him. 

Because that’s another thing: every single song that Burn The Stage has ever released has been penned by Yoongi. To his credit, it’s kind of what they’re known for. His lyrics have a raw honesty to them that’s gotten the band into trouble more than once. 

You finally tune into the show that’s unfolded below you, the words spilling from Jeongguk’s lips loud and clear in your ears now that you’re paying attention.

​​Well, I ain't got no dollar signs in my eyes That might be a surprise but it's true Said, "I'm not like you and I don't want your advice Or your praise or to move in the ways you do and I never will" 'Cause all you people are vampires And all your stories are stale And though you pretend to stand by us I know you're certain we'll fail

It’s rock music. It’s polarizing, controversial, edgy. Biting the hand that feeds them—especially in the eyes of the executives lining the band’s pockets, you’re sure. And yet everyone eats it up. 

Still, Yoongi wouldn’t get away with half of it if he wasn’t attractive, you’re sure of it.

Because he is. Attractive. They all are, and he’s no exception. He checks all of the boxes annoyingly well. The long hair, the signature smirk, the little silver barbell on a tongue that he seems all too happy to flash at a moment’s notice. Too bad he seems like one of those pretentious, tortured artist types that take themselves way too seriously. That’s never done it for you.

Jeongguk is the one singing Yoongi’s words, and he might as well be Korea’s sweetheart—if it weren’t for all the tattoos. He conveys the message of Yoongi’s songs exactly as intended, but he doesn’t have to act like an egotistical gatekeeper to do it.

Maybe it’s a preference on your part. You’ve always had a thing for sweetness.

★ ★ ★

After the concert, you’re ushered off of the balcony by one of the band’s security guards. It’s the same guy who escorted you up when you arrived, and you note to yourself that he’s very polite. Eunwoo, according to his nametag.

It tracks, given Burn The Stage’s reputation for making sure the women at their concerts feel comfortable in the crowd. You’ve heard stories about them stopping mid-song to have handsy men kicked out, and it’s nice to know their commitment extends to the people they employ for themselves.

Eunwoo offers you his hand palm-up as you descend down the balcony stairs, and you take it with a grateful smile. You’re feeling wobbly in these shoes, and the drinks you’ve downed since your arrival aren’t helping matters. Even with the assistance, you still feel like a baby giraffe as you step down, but thanks to Eunwoo, you don’t eat shit.

Eunwoo dutifully guides you backstage, to a grimy, graffitied hallway housing the dressing rooms for Wasteland’s talent of the night. Jeongguk waits outside of one of them, guzzling down a bottle of water as a female staff member dabs sweat off of his forehead with a pristine white towel. She’s only there for a moment before slipping back through the dressing room door. Finally noticing your approach, Jeongguk turns his head and grins at you, and you feel your nerves ebb away instantly. He’s good at that.

As you get closer to Jeongguk, you turn to smile and nod at Eunwoo in thanks. He smiles back politely, wordlessly falling back to give you some privacy.

“Daaaamn, YN-ah,” Jeongguk says, whistling lowly as you reach him. “You’re going to cause a bloodbath in there.” He nods his head towards the dressing room door, and you roll your eyes despite the heat building in your cheeks.

“I know, I know,” you say, smoothing your hands over your dress. “It’s not exactly a meet-the-family outfit, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Nah, it’s cool. You look hot,” he says, grabbing your hand and making you do a spin, forcing a surprised laugh out of you as you try not to trip over yourself. Jeongguk keeps you steady, though, with a hand on your shoulder. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you say, although you’re sure your face gives away how terrified you are of what awaits you on the other side of the door. ���Maybe you should’ve picked an actress for this, though.”

“I trust you,” he says softly, squeezing your shoulder. “It’s not too late to back out, though. I’ll understand…”

You believe him, of course. Those doe eyes don’t lie, and even so, he’s already told you over and over how bad he feels for asking this of you. But you don’t want to back out. Jeongguk has given you so much since you’ve met—it’s only right to try and repay him for it.

“I want to do this,” you assure him, reaching up to squeeze his hand on your shoulder. “I’m just worried I won’t be able to pull it off.”

“You will,” Jeongguk says, smiling down at you warmly. “Don’t sweat it too much, okay? We’ve got this. It’s not like I have to pretend to like you.”

Right. You wish Jeongguk’s words did what they were meant to and instilled some kind of confidence in you, but what they actually do is make your chest ache uncomfortably. Pull yourself together, you think. Now’s not the time.

You smile good-naturedly, hoping Jeongguk doesn’t notice the way it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “Let’s get this over with,” you mumble.

“That’s the spirit!” he laughs, sliding the hand on your shoulder around to the other one so his arm is slung around you. You hate the way your heart flutters, despite the fact that you’d prepared for this. Dumb bitch.

Jeongguk cracks the dressing room door open just enough to ensure that all of the men inside are decent, and then he’s guiding you inside, your hands flying down to smooth your dress over again, just in case. 

The dressing room is bustling with more people than you expected, people you recognize from the balcony and staff alike. There’s a fast-paced rock song playing over a bluetooth speaker, almost loud enough to drown out the chatter. 

Everyone seems to be in celebration mode after the last show of the tour. There’s a large sheet cake on a cart in the middle of the room emblazoned with the band members’ faces in frosting, plastic champagne flutes littered around the room in varying states of fullness. Judging by the bottle in his hand and the way staff members wipe at his face fussily, it seems like Taehyung took the liberty of pouring champagne over his head to cool off.

You’re used to having lots of eyes on you—it comes with the job—but something about the way Jeongguk’s bandmates immediately stop what they’re doing and take notice of your presence startles you, puts you on edge.

“Jeonggukie! You missed the cake,” Jimin calls, standing up from where he sat on the couch. He holds out a slice of the sheet cake to Jeongguk, tilting his head at you as he approaches. “Where do I know you from?”

Jeongguk removes his arm from your shoulders to take the plate, snorting at the image of his decapitated cake-head staring up at him. “Hyungs,” he says, grabbing a plastic fork and digging into the slice. “This is YLN YN.”

“Oh, we’ve met before! The model, right?” Taehyung pipes up from where he’s still being wiped down, and you nod politely. “I saw your Innisfree campaign last month. I couldn’t remember whether your skin was really that nice in person.”

You watch as he extricates himself from the staff, ignoring their protests as he walks away from them.

Taehyung gets close to you, close enough to inspect your pores like he clearly intends to, and you fight the urge to instantly recoil. Jeongguk seems too busy stuffing his face with cake to interfere, and you want to make a good first impression. So much for your personal bubble.

“It is,” he says, nodding sagely to himself.

“Th-thank you?” you stammer. Beside you, Jeongguk finally tunes back in.

“Jeez, hyung,” he says around a mouthful of cake. He chews for a moment, swallowing thickly before continuing. “Let her breathe.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung says sheepishly, backing out of your personal space, and you let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, shaking your head.

“It’s fine,” you say, mustering a polite smile. 

You note that despite his initial (albeit subtle) acknowledgement of your existence when you walked in the door, Yoongi now seems entirely disinterested in interacting with you. He hasn’t moved from where he’s planted on the couch, focused intently on strumming his guitar. How he can even hear what he’s playing over the noise is beyond you. It’s not even plugged into an amp. 

You’d be a little annoyed that he hasn’t even bothered to greet you, but you reason that he must be pretty worn out from all of the fanfare surrounding the show tonight. Introvert recognizes introvert. You try not to take it personally.

“Do you know Jeongguk-ah well?” Jimin asks, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes bounce between you and his bandmate. He seems to be putting the pieces together, so you glance at Jeongguk, wordlessly passing the question his way.

Thankfully, Jeongguk seems to get the hint. He tosses his plate in the nearest trash can before sliding over to you again, his arm slipping around your waist easily, betraying nothing.

“Hyungs,” he starts, glancing at you and nodding once. Let the show begin. “YN-ah is actually, um… my girlfriend.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi sit up. That got his attention, it seems. 

A hush falls over the room, even the eyes of the staff members within earshot widening in response to Jeongguk’s announcement. Oh shit, you think. Please let this go well.

“Since when?” Taehyung asks, curiosity piqued. Thankfully, though, he doesn’t seem upset by the new information. At least, not as far as you can tell.

“Well, um,” Jeongguk starts, tonguing nervously at his lip ring. He pulls you closer so you’re practically curled against his chest now, and you silently pray that the way you’re looking at him reads as sweet and not like you’re about to jump out of your skin. “It’s actually been a few months now… Since right before the tour, actually.”

“Right before the tour?” Jimin asks, his brow furrowing in obvious confusion. “So you’ve been doing long distance?”

Jeongguk glances at you, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, it was bad timing on my part,” he says, his eyes fixed on yours. Damn. If he didn’t have such great pipes, you’d say he should’ve gone into acting. He’s male lead material. “I just couldn’t leave without telling her how I felt.”

You wish that you could do or say literally anything useful instead of just clinging to Jeongguk’s side like a barnacle. This is supposed to be a joint effort, but you feel frozen in place, unable to find your voice. It’s a good thing Jeongguk seems to be pulling it off all on his own.

“So cute,” Taehyung coos, bumping his shoulder against Jimin’s conspiratorially. “Our Jeonggukie’s all grown up and in love.”

“He’s always been a romantic,” Jimin joins in, miming at wiping fake tears as if he’s a proud parent. He reaches out and grabs your hands, startling you. “Please take care of him.”

“Hyuuuungs,” Jeongguk whines, tearing his arm away from you to whack Jimin and Taehyung on their heads simultaneously. “You’re going to scare her away!”

“Doubtful,” Yoongi says from where he’s still seated on the couch. Oh, so he does speak. It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice all night. It’s low, raspier in person than in the videos you’ve seen online. His words are directed at Jeongguk, but when you turn your head to look at him you find that his gaze is fixed on you. Your pulse spikes at the discovery. “I don’t think anything could scare her away from you, Guk-ah.”

The words themselves are innocuous, even supportive, but something about the way he says them makes your gut twist. Nobody else seems put off by it, but you can tell something’s not right. You have to say something, to open your mouth and speak. You have to pull this off, for Jeongguk.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, forcing a smile. You manage to tear your gaze away from Yoongi, looking back at Jeongguk. He’s grinning down at you, and it’s real, even if the pretense of it isn’t. Your smile becomes a little less forced in return.

★ ★ ★

Jimin and Taehyung are insistent that you stick around and celebrate for a while, so you do. You end up enjoying yourself, despite the weird moment with Yoongi. 

Jimin and Taehyung are fun to be around, just like Jeongguk said they would be, although conversation between the three of them becomes a little hard for you to follow sometimes. They just talk so fast. 

They ask you questions about your job, your friends, your family. They also tease Jeongguk relentlessly in front of you and seem all too thrilled to find out that you’re their noona. You find it surprising how easily you open up to them, but it just… happens. Just like it did with Jeongguk when you first met.

You relax enough to convince yourself that your perceived pointed nature of Yoongi’s words earlier was all in your head. Surely, he couldn’t have a problem with you when he doesn’t even know you. Jeongguk told you himself that Yoongi’s a quiet guy. Maybe that was his own way of telling you he approves of you. He hasn’t said or done anything since to make you think otherwise. Granted, he hasn’t said or done anything, period.

Once he arrives, you meet Namjoon, Burn The Stage’s manager. Jeongguk told you a little bit about him, but it was mostly just thinly-veiled thirsting. Now you see why.

He clarifies right off the bat that he already knows who you are, which saves you the anxiety of having to go through the whole routine again, and then he apologizes for being late.

“I was talking to reporters. I wanted the guys to be able to celebrate without having to do any interviews,” he explains as he shakes your hand with a dimpled smile. Damn. Yeah, you don’t blame Jeongguk one bit.

After a while, the champagne catches up with you and you have to excuse yourself to the bathroom.

The staff member that was dabbing Jeongguk’s sweat earlier—Minji, you learn—directs you out of the dressing room and to the nearest women’s bathroom further down the hallway. 

You try to make it as quick as possible, much tipsier than you thought and all the more unstable in these shoes because of it. After one last check of your hair and makeup in the mirror, you make your exit, focusing down at your feet as you go.

Unfortunately, you run headfirst into someone’s chest in the process. Hands come up to grab your elbows, steadying you before you fall flat on your face. For a second, you think maybe Minji had been waiting to escort you back to the dressing room, but these are not a woman’s hands holding you up. Wait a second, you think. You definitely saw these ring-clad fingers displayed on a huge screen earlier. Strumming at a guitar, perhaps?

In a moment of amazing mental clarity on your part considering the state you’re in, you realize that these are Min Yoongi’s hands, and your head snaps up to look up at him.

“Yoongi-ssi! I’m so sorry!” You quickly right yourself to the best of your ability, pressing your hand to the wall next to you for support.

Once he’s sure you can hold yourself up without his help, Yoongi instantly retracts his hands, crossing his arms over his chest. “I should’ve been looking where I was going,” you add, doing your best to bow in apology without losing your balance again.

Yoongi tilts his head at you as if he’s assessing you, his gaze inscrutable. Man, for a lyricist this guy isn’t big on words. You’re just about to politely say goodbye and head back to the dressing room when he finally speaks.

“I’ve spent the past hour trying to figure out what your angle could possibly be, but I’m coming up short.”

Um. What?

“Huh?” you manage, blinking at Yoongi like he’s suddenly grown a second head.

“It’s not like your career’s in any trouble. Nobody thinks you're Korea’s angel or anything, but your shit reputation hasn’t stopped you from getting brand deals,” Yoongi continues, scoffing to himself. “Are you just bored? Is this what you do to amuse yourself?”

Uh oh. He knows. He knows for sure, and even worse, he thinks that you’re the mastermind.

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, forcing your voice to remain level. You don’t even try to defend your reputation. It’s not like he’s wrong. 

“Right,” Yoongi says, leaning in a little closer, like he’s about to tell you a secret. “Well, a word of advice. If you want people to buy that you’re really in love with Jeongguk, you could try to look less like you’re going to throw up when he touches you.”

FUCK. You thought you pulled it off. You thought you pulled it off, and now here’s Jeongguk’s goddamn hero telling you point-blank that you didn’t. You wrack your brain trying to think of anything you could possibly say to defend yourself, to get this guy off your ass, because this cannot be your fault. You’d never forgive yourself.

“I—”

“Or,” Yoongi starts, cutting you off. “You could just cut the bullshit and leave Jeongguk alone.” He pauses, rubbing his chin as if he’s pretending to think about it and then nodding once. “Yeah, let’s go with that one.”

Jesus Christ he’s a piece of work. You feel your fists clench at your sides, your nails digging painfully into your palms. You just got your nails done, and there’s a strong possibility you’ll draw blood, but it’s all you can do not to strangle this asshole right here and leave Burn The Stage without a guitarist.

“Yoongi-ssi,” you say, your words dripping with fake politeness. Fuck this guy, actually. “I don’t know what I’ve done to give you such a bad impression of me, but I assure you that Jeongguk and I are very much in love.”

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t buy it?” Yoongi asks, voice tinged with impatience. “You may have everyone else in that room fooled, but not me, and if you hurt Jeongguk I can guarantee it won’t end well for you.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you snap. “Again, I don’t know what the fuck I’ve done to make you think so poorly of me, but I meant what I said in there. I’m not going anywhere.”

You need to remove yourself from this interaction right now before you do something stupid like burst into tears. You take the opportunity to push past Yoongi before he gets a chance to say anything else, making sure to essentially shoulder check him in the process because again, fuck this guy.

You stalk down the hallway, feeling much more sober now. It’s as if all of the alcohol got forcibly drained from your system in the face of total fucking disaster, and you’re honestly thankful for it, because the last thing you need is this asshole seeing you actually fall.

For a moment, you’re fooled into thinking you’d successfully ended the conversation, but of course he needs the last word.

“I know more about you than you think, dollface.”

Dollface? The fuck?

You chance a glance behind you and you immediately regret it. Yoongi leans against the wall where you left him, an amused smirk spread over his face, and the sight immediately fills you with dread, a type of primal panic you haven’t felt in four years flooding your senses.

He doesn’t… He couldn’t know about that. There’s no possible way. Jeongguk doesn’t even know about that. Nobody does, because you’ve done everything in your meager power to keep it that way.

You whip your head back around to face front, your heels clacking on the crusty linoleum beneath them as you continue down the hallway. Don’t look back, you think. He doesn’t know. 

You’re thankful that you brought your bag with you to the bathroom, because you’re very much not in the mood for a party now. Once you’re safely outside, you call your car and send a text to Jeongguk explaining your sudden escape. You felt sick, you tell him. 

It’s not like it’s a lie. 

Yoongi loves being on stage.

Over the past few years, there’s been a noticeable change in his demeanor. He’s become passive, apathetic to the normal day-to-day that comes with being a celebrity. Nothing really wows him anymore.

He remembers the way he reacted to the accommodations the band received when they first got signed. He was way too scared to ask for things at first, but the label gave it all to him anyway.

For instance, Yoongi’s always been particular about his stationery. The first time he filled a notebook after getting signed, he didn’t even think to consider it a company expense. Why would he? He was fully capable of buying his own shit, even if he had to save up for it. Sure, every time he had to write a lyric down on the back of a receipt his eye would twitch, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before.

But the label guys noticed. Before he even had a chance to buy his next batch of notebooks and pens, he was sat down in a spacious meeting room and asked point-blank what he needed. When Yoongi gave them specifics—Leuchtturm 1917 unlined hardcover pocket journals and a fuckton of Uni-Ball Jetstream Premier pens—they didn’t even bat an eye. When he—rightfully—warned them that he might strangle someone if he’s handed a gel pen instead of a ballpoint, they just assured him that wouldn’t happen.

Ever since then, there’s been an endless supply of exactly what he needs, always within reach. He’s still grateful for that, of course, because he goes through those fuckers fast. But it’s just a fact of his life now. It’s not special to get his fucking Leuchtturms anymore, not when he could douse his entire supply with gasoline and burn it on a whim and still have a fresh one in his hand within mere minutes.

And it’s not just journals and pens.

Namjoon is the band’s representative. Yoongi picked him personally long before there was any contract, or even hope for one, and if everything were to go to shit tomorrow, Namjoon would still be there. But after the single from their second album charted on the Billboard Hot 100, a label-equivalent to Namjoon was hired, as if anybody could ever be equivalent to Namjoon. Park Hyunseok. Park Hyunseok, whose sole duty is to buzz around Yoongi and his bandmates like a pesky fly and “make sure they’re happy.” They quite literally want for nothing.

Yoongi remembers when his skin used to buzz with the emotions simmering just under the surface. He was fiery in his youth, pissed off and ready to prove a point. He felt everything strongly, fully.

Not so much these days. Anger is only marketable for so long, or so he’s been told.

For the past year, Yoongi’s felt numb to the world. And he’s dealt with it, of course. That’s what he does. The album did great, the tour sold out, the boys are happy. That’s really all that matters. He just doesn’t know how he’s going to write another fucking album if he’s got nothing to write about anymore.

Still, he loves being on stage. There’s nothing like it. It never gets old, never gets boring. He still hasn’t gotten used to the feeling of stepping onstage and feeling a crowd scream his name, scream his lyrics right back at him. Lyrics to songs that he wrote in his shoebox apartment when he was eighteen and it felt like nobody gave a fuck about him. Funny how things change.

Nobody can take that feeling away from him, even if they’ve taken all the other ones.

It’s been a good night. It feels good to be back in Seoul after being away for months, feels even better to be on this particular stage again. Yoongi always feels keyed up after a good show, itching to do something with all of the energy thrumming through his body, and tonight is no different. He’s almost giddy with the opportunity to celebrate this tour with his bandmates and Namjoon and then go home and crash. Home. Fuck, it’s a good night. He has a hot date with his king size bed.

But then you.

It’s been years since you’ve even been a thought in Yoongi’s brain, and he liked it that way. Unfortunately, it’s apparently true what they say: all good things must come to an end.

Yoongi sees right through you. He's met so many of your type in his life that even if he hadn’t met you before he would’ve been able to sniff you out the second you walked backstage. Users. Social climbers. The bored and braindead looking for their next toy. The exact kind of person he’s been trying to protect Jeongguk from this whole time, and now you’re on his arm. 

And whatever, a hookup is one thing. Yoongi frankly doesn’t give a fuck where Jeongguk decides to stick his dick. The less he knows the better on that front. But a relationship? No, it isn’t real. Yoongi knows that much. Maybe it is for Jeongguk, but not for you. He's never even heard Jeongguk, hopeless romantic extraordinaire, talk about you.

Jeongguk introduces you as his girlfriend, and suddenly it’s like Yoongi’s watching a car crash in slow motion. He prays that he’s not alone, that Jimin and Taehyung have caught on to your piss-poor acting skills—seriously, you look like you’re about to pass out—but it looks like Yoongi’s entirely alone on this one. You have them wrapped around your little finger with minimal effort. He has a feeling that comes as naturally to you as breathing.

Of course, Yoongi has the added displeasure of having met you before, way back when. When you had the chance to be somebody, before you pissed it away, to what? To pout in front of a camera for a living? He thought he’d run out of ways to be wrong about you four years ago, but clearly you just can’t help yourself.

And of course you don’t remember him. Why would you?

Yoongi knows Jeongguk better than anybody. He also knows that thing people say about teenagers is true. If you tell them not to do something, they’ll only want to do it more. Jeongguk may be a grown man now, but he’s stubborn as fuck, and he never grew out of that. If he goes to Jeongguk and flat-out tells him that his girlfriend is a piece of human garbage, Jeongguk will only date her harder.

He tries to control the infection at the source by confronting you directly, but it’s clear the fire that he thought you lacked is, in fact, there, if only to piss Yoongi off.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say.

Okay.

If that’s how you want to play, Yoongi can fucking play. He’s going to make you wish you’d left Jeongguk alone when he gave you the chance.

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[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 01 - Hotel Room Sex]

Pairing: Good Puppy!JK + Soft Mistress!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Rockstar!Jungkook

Kinks: porn with plot cause it's my demisexual ass, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, nipple play, nipple sucking, hair pulling, passionate pegging in missionary, use of a buttplug, lube, frotting, handjob, orgasm control, multiple orgasms (m.receiving), overstimulation, he pisses himself because it feels so good, subby boy tears, praise, dirty talk, possessive talk, muscle kink, cuddly and giddy aftercare

Wordcount: 9.2k

a/n: i can't believe i'm actually insane enough to do kinktober. besties, we're in for a ride :) this is based on this ask 💙

Jungkook sings about sex and drugs and getting drunk. He sings about the girls he fucks and kisses and how they all worship him. And he isn’t wrong. They worship him by the base of the stage, stretching their arms to him and screaming their throat raw, as if he was their god. 

You don’t blame them. Jungkook looks good. Way too damn good. He is the lead singer and guitarist of his band Black Omens, a rock band known for its enchanting vocals and heavy guitar riffs. He has a certain style of singing and of playing the guitar which drives the fangirls wild. The stage is always lit in red shades and you will always find him in tight leather pants and tank tops. Sometimes he wears no shirt, showing off his tattoos and piercings. His hair is always a certain kind of wet on stage, hanging into his sexy face messily which truly fits the lewd topics he sings about. 

And the girls go wild. He sings about being their master, their devil twisting their world all while he fingers the guitar and makes sultry eye contact with the crowd. They love it, you watch from the back with a knowing roll of your eyes. If only they knew.

The concert ends after the second encore with roaring applause and screeches. Tears are spilled and way too many undergarments thrown at the band. What a bunch of weirdos. You are jealous of them. Well, maybe not jealous but threatened. Jungkook promises you that he is loyal, that what he sings about isn’t how he truly feels, but with each concert your devotion to trust him shrinks. He asked you to come on tour with him, not wanting to be away from you again for months on end. You quit your old job two months ago because your manager decided to slip his hand under your colleague’s skirt and you broke his nose for it. Fair enough, you didn’t quit, you were fired, but you left with your head held high, knowing that your actions also resulted in your manager losing his job. And so you were unemployed and therefore had free time, so you agreed to come with Jungkook on his tour and postpone the job hunt until after. You had enough money saved up to live comfortably after the tour and while on tour didn’t need to spend any because the band budget paid for everything. Of course you agreed, but you slowly started to regret it. Jungkook sings about sex and drugs and getting drunk, he sings about all the women he dominates while thousands of willing women scream at his feet in hopes of being picked. You are only that strong in your belief that Jungkook is loyal before it finally starts to affect you. 

Tonight was an especially bad night. While the band was saying goodbye, Jungkook brushed hands with a few fangirls – all of the band did – and it made you furious. The way they looked at him, how they grabbed him and basically begged to be his next willing thing to dominate made you furious. 

The band leaves after their goodbyes, talking to each other as they jog down the stairs. 

Hoseok, the drummer, and Yoongi, the lead guitarist, share a water bottle. They’re the first by your side, followed by Taehyung, the bassist, and Seokjin, the keyboardist. 

“Alright now guys, good job up there. The crowd went wild for you tonight”, Namjoon, the manager and their good friend, says, appearing beside you as well with his phone in hand. He is always busy, always networking, always socialising. The guys jokingly call him their secret leader because he does all of their social tasks. He always accepts the teasing with an exasperated sigh and a “you’re not wrong you know? You’d be lost without me.”

“Thanks man. We felt pretty pumped up there. Fuck, it feels good to make music with you guys”, Yoongi says, boxing the air in a release of good adrenaline.

“Man, the ad-libs you did during Chained Up were fucking fire man, no lies”, Hoseok praises him.

“Says the right one. You were on fire during Spit. You and Taehyung. Man, your solo was great.”

Taehyung smiles, patting his back, “thanks man. I only followed Seokjin’s cues. You were lit, my man.”

“Man thanks seriously”, Seokjin says and accepts a bottle of water from Namjoon, downing it in one go. 

Jimin, the third guitarist and second vocalist, finally comes backstage. He can scream really fucking well. He showed off the skill multiple times tonight, driving the crowd wild. Following Jimin, is Jungkook, smiling drunkenly from the successful night. Outside the crowd is still screaming for them. You can barely even look at him. He is a cheater, you just know that he is. 

“Man, what a show”, he comes stumbling, arm falling around your shoulder. “Hey baby. Did you like the show?” he lulls, leaning so he could kiss your lips. He is sweating a lot, which you normally don’t mind but tonight it annoys you.

“You’re sweaty”, you say coldly, taking a step back. 

Jungkook brushes off the embarrassment with a confused laugh and his eyes exchanging confused looks with the others. They aren’t any wiser. 

“Did you all hear how I screamed during Save Me tonight?” Jimin tries to change topic. The others gladly take it, continuing to talk about the concert as you make your way to the greenroom. Jungkook tries to hold your hand when no one is looking, but you refuse him. 

“What’s wrong?” he whispers. 

“Nothing”, you refuse him answer, painting a crease of displeasure between his brows.

The guys get ready and unready in front of you. Of course they don’t get fully naked, but you have seen every single one of them in their underwear before. You are mostly on your phone or doodle in your notebook when they do because you don’t care to see their nude bodies. They are mostly talking about the concert and whether or not they should go for some beers later. You don’t partake in the conversation, sulking like an immature girl. You are aware that you are being immature, but you also can’t stop. Just hearing Jungkook’s voice makes your blood boil tonight. The latter keeps glancing at you with his brows furrowing more and more.

They are already dressed when the security guards come. You loathe this moment. 

“Derek, hey man”, Jimin greets him.

“Hey, so uhm, there’s some fans outside who wanna see you.”

The insinuation is clear to everyone and you can’t stand it. Now granted, you like all of them, they are amazing and wonderful people and you are happy when they get a fun night if that is what both parties want clearly. They don’t allow anyone under the age of twenty six because that’s the age where most humans actually know what they want and they also have a clear rule that the people need to be completely sober and clear headed. There are contracts involved, ensuring the safety of both parties so the consenting women knew they wouldn’t be forced to do anything out of their comfort zone. It was an honest deal, still a little weird, but honest and safe, but you hated it nonetheless. Because Jungkook always went with the others. Not for sex because not every fan was here for that. Some just wanted a picture or an autograph and he wanted to make those fans happy and yet you still always dreaded the moment, thinking to yourself “what if tonight is the night he finally has enough of me and goes back to the hotel room with another girl? Will I have to sleep on the streets then? Will he make me watch knowing that it will hurt me?” 

You never had such thoughts before, but this tour has been truly making you go crazy.

Tonight, Derek’s arrival made your stomach churn painfully and you almost threw up the enchiladas you ate earlier. 

The guys leave the greenroom chatting with each other. You know that Yoongi and Seokjin won’t go home with anyone because that’s not in their comfort zone. They will pose for pictures and thank the fans for their support. There is a fifty-fifty chance that Taehyung might leave with someone, depending on the vibes. Jimin will most definitely leave with someone, no hesitation. Hoseok is only there for pictures unless there is someone his taste (he leaves with someone at most locations, he is just trying to act like he isn’t a fuckboy). Sometimes there are people for Namjoon as well, who he always declines with red cheeks. Jungkook, well, frankly you don’t want to think about him. 

He follows the others, laughing and joking.  Most are out of the door when he stops and looks back at you. 

“Baby?” he queries. 

“Mhm”, you hum, not looking up from your phone.

“Wanna come with us? Meet some of our fans?”

“Go and meet them yourself, maybe one of them can Suck It, Lick It, Ride It”, you throw back his own lyrics which he sang to the crowd as his hand was on his clothed crotch.

“Huh?”

You jump to your feet to stomp away, but Jungkook catches your wrist, tugging gently but with strength.

“What’s wrong? Why are you saying that?” 

“Let go of me, I don’t wanna be touched.”

“Sorry.” He lets go instantly, studying you intensely. “Talk to me. What’s wrong, baby?”

“JK, you coming or what?” Hoseok asks, sticking his head back into the greenroom. 

Jungkook looks at you pleadingly. 

“Tch”, you scoff, turning your back to him. 

Jungkook’s features tighten in confusion, panic and heartbreak. He forces a smile on it.

“Coming, don’t worry”, he says and leaves with Hoseok after giving you one last look over his shoulder.

Just like you had predicted, the known guys leave with someone while the others only take pictures. You all leave for the hotel room together, sharing cars. Yoongi and Seokjin share the car with you and Jungkook. Namjoon is with you as well, on his phone of course. The others take the other car.

Because of the missing privacy, Jungkook can’t talk to you, destined to sit next to you while you refuse to be touched by him.

You booked rooms on the seventh floor, saying your goodbyes on the hallways before disappearing inside your rooms.

The door closes behind Jungkook.

You slip out of your shoes and then you are already gone from the entrance, fleeing into the living area of the big room. 

You sit down in one of the chairs and open the room service menu. You aren’t hungry, but don’t know what else to do.

“Can we finally cut the crap and talk?” Jungkook enters the room. 

“Do you want room service?”

“No. I wanna talk to you about what’s bothering you ‘cause something clearly is.” 

You lower the menu, glaring at him. He is glaring back with his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“Nothing’s bothering me.”

He throws his hands in the air and drops them, letting them slap against his thighs as a gesture of complete defeat. It makes a loud sound of impact on the leather pants.

“Very mature of you, seriously”, he says with annoyance in his voice, “I’m taking a shower, maybe you wanna talk about it afterwards.”

You don’t move from your spot during the time he takes to shower, sulking and feeling embarrassed. Jungkook isn’t wrong. You know that being a sulky girl isn’t very grown-up of you to do, but you just can’t help it. What if you speak up and he confirms it? What if he says that it’s just sex, babe? You love him so much, but what if he doesn’t love you in return?

Jungkook, who notices that you haven’t shifted one bit in the chair even after almost forty minutes, stops in his tracks to sigh in defeat. 

“What’s the matter? Just talk to me.”

You glance at him. He is only in his towel now, carrying his clothes under his arm. His hair and face are freshly washed, vast of any product or makeup. This is the kind of Jungkook only you get to see. The real, unfiltered human. It should be enough to make your heart see that you are everything he needs, but it’s not.

“Nothing, I don’t know”, you murmur, looking away 

“___ please. I know something is wrong, please let us fix it.”

You throw your hands over your face to muffle the sudden sob you want to let out. 

Jungkook drops his clothes and hurries to you. He sits down on the chair opposite of you, dragging your hands away.

“Talk to me, my love. What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you homesick?” 

You shake your head.

“Is it the rooms we stay in? I know they’re not the most comfortable sometimes and-”

“No, not that.”

“Well, what then baby?” he asks softly, wiping your tears.

“I’m scared.”

“Scared of what? That I’ll overdo it? I promise those days are over. I’m twenty seven now, I learned from-”

“No, the girls.”

“The girls? Why are you scared of girls?” He scoots closer, takes your hands and speaks in a serious voice. “What happened in Jakarta won’t happen again. I promise. We upped the security, so nobody can climb on stage again and try to kiss one of us. I promise I’m gonna stay safe.”

“And loyal too?”

Jungkook is silent. In shock and confusion. Very obviously not in caught panic. He is merely lost for words, trying to make sense of what you just asked him. 

“What did you just say?” 

“You heard me. How can I know that you’re gonna be loyal?”

“Because I took you on this tour with me.”

“And if you hadn’t?” 

“I would have called you each night.”

You search for words, studying his face.

He clicks his tongue and speaks your name as softly as possible, cradling your face, “oh my sweet love, why are you feeling like this all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just…” You sigh in defeat. “I’m just tired of hearing you sing about dominating countless girls when I know I could never give you that. And then they, they scream at your feet as if you were their god with such actual, pure devotion in their eyes. I can’t compete with all of them.”

“But you don’t have to compete with them. I love you and that won’t ever change.” 

“I can’t be like them.”

“Good. I’m in love with you, not them.”

A smile hushes over your face. Jungkook smiles back at you, closing the distance to peck your lips. You accept it with a whimper and a tremor. 

“Aw baby, don’t cry. I’m here”, he says, hugging you against him. 

You hug him back, sniffling into his neck.

“Why are you feeling like this all of a sudden? Was it something I did?” he asks. 

“No, it’s just that it’s been a lot, actually, watching you have thousands of girls at your feet each night. And, and then when they come backstage I get so scared. I keep thinking what if tonight is the night he finally has enough of me and goes back to the hotel room with another girl? Will I have to sleep on the streets then? Will he make me watch knowing that it will hurt me? I’ve been feeling so insecure lately and scared that one of them will be more your type than me.”

“No, I’m sorry, my baby. You don’t have to feel this way, I love you and only you.” He gives you a tight squeeze. “Please believe me. I love you so, so much. You’re not in any kind of danger, I mean it. I see these people as fans of our music, nothing more. You’re my everything. Okay?”

“I am?” 

“Yes, you are.”

“Thank you for saying that. I love you too.”

“Is that why you were being cold to me? Because you felt too insecure?”

“No, I guess…I’m sorry for being like this. I try not to be, but it’s hard. It’s just that my voice never mattered to others and if I spoke up I was ridiculed.”

“Don’t apologise, baby. I understand. Thank you for talking to me, I know that wasn’t easy.” 

“No.” You sniffle, squeezing him. “No, it wasn’t.”

“There, there”, he rubs your head as he talks, “it feels better now though, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, very.”

“For me too. I was really hurt when you ignored me. It makes me really anxious and I would really like it if in the future, you could maybe give me a short notice if you still need time to be ready to talk.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to tell you if I still need time in the future.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry for giving you reasons for doubting my loyalty to you. What do you need me to do in the future?”

“I don’t know. I know the image you guys have is kinda detrimental to your success and I don’t want you to lose the connection you have with your fans. I know they matter to you.”

“Yes, as fans. You matter to me as my partner. I want to make you happy first and foremost.”

“Maybe, I don’t know, maybe you could be cuter with me?”

“Cuter? Then I have an idea. I’ll dedicate at least one song to you each gig. Alright?”

You giggle.

“Yeah, you like that. I like it too, my muffin.”

You nudge him away.

“Don’t call me that.”

He grins boyishly, earning himself another nudge.

“I’m taking a shower, you egg. If you wanna order room service, go ahead”, you tell him and stand up to leave. 

“Yes okie. Are you hungry?” 

“Not really, but you can eat something.”

Jungkook is lounging on bed when you come outside.

“Did you order something?”

“No, I-”, Jungkook’s words get stuck in his throat.

You wear the towel around your hips, forcing him to do a double take because he definitely didn’t expect the view. With a content sigh, you drop onto the mattress beside him. You aren’t blind to the way his eyes gawk at your tits. 

“Like what you see?” 

“Bouncy”, he gets out and gulps.

You laugh, “yes, boobs tend to do that with movement.”

“Ah, so pretty”, he closes the distance and buries his nose into your side boob with a cute hum. His tattooed arm is around your waist like this. He kicks his feet happily, humming cutely as he nuzzles your boob.

You snicker, enjoying the attention to the fullest. He lifts his head and grins up at you.

“You know, I was thinking”, he says, tracing your side with his fingertips.

“What were you thinking?” 

“We could order room service a little later and I’ll show you my devotion first.”

“Your devotion?” you ask, feeling tingly. 

“Mh-hm”, he nods his head, lowering it to your chest afterwards so he could mouth at your tits. He does it softly and very teasingly. “You know me. How I really am, what I really want”, he speaks between his kisses, speeding up your breath with it. His pierced lips brush over your nipple, forcing it to harden and tingle. 

“But I feel like you’ve started to forget that”, he whispers, darting the tip of his tongue out to trace your nipple. 

You squirm on the sheets. Jungkook ends the slow feast with a gentle suck and then he is already back to feather light kisses all over your chest. He even climbs between your legs for better access, raising your breath to quickened levels.

“Which means, I gotta let you put me back in my place.”

He lifts his head, lips so very close to kiss and sultry eyes getting lost in yours. Your heart is racing like crazy. You are so attracted to him.

“Peg me, my goddess. I’ve been acting out of line, I need to be curbed again.”

“Kook…”

“Please?”

You gulp. He makes puppy eyes at you. His temptation is powerful, you must admit. Pegging him tonight would definitely cure your insecure heart. There is nothing more sensual than being inside him and he looks so, so good taking it. You like to argue that this is when he looks best. The temptation is unbearable, but you can’t give in yet. He has to work a little harder for his reward.

“Yah”, you slap his chest gently, “you can’t just do that to me.”

“Why not?” he chuckles.

“Because you’re being unfair with your techniques. You wanna be pegged? What about me? You think I’ll let you get everything after what you did?”

Jungkook mewls, sagging his shoulders in defeat. You are already playing into it. This is both real, but also meant to rile him up.

“Of course not, I’m sorry. I, I shouldn’t have suggested that”, he says and bows his head, using it as an opportunity to begin licking your breasts again. He places his hands under your armpits, dancing them down your sides and up again. 

You close your eyes, melting into the pillow with a slight scoot forwards. 

“Can I make it up to you, Mistress?” he asks, mouthing at your right nipple. 

“Yeah…”

“Thank you, wow, thank you”, he gets out. 

He sucks on your nipple one last time then takes on another journey. He uses his tongue for it, swirling it down the middle of your stomach. You follow it with an arch of your back, sighing his name. You are so addicted to his touch. 

“You’re the most beautiful woman”, he rasps, supporting his words with needy kisses all over your lower stomach. You are sensitive there so this is riling you up like crazy. 

“Kook, no teasing”, you mewl, thrusting your hips up desperately. 

“Mhm.” He fumbles with the towel. “Can I open it?” 

“Yeah, quick.”

He chuckles, opening it with a skilled tug. He sits back on his feet as he unravels you, smoothing the towel out on each side of your hips. His eyes are mesmerised by your pussy, tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

“Wow, I’m just…wow.” 

You prop your legs up and part them. Jungkook gulps and moans afterwards. 

“I can’t believe you’re real”, he whispers.

“I taste good too, you know?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. Oh my Mistress”, he murmurs and lies down on his stomach, arms wrapping around your thighs and fingers digging deep into your softness. He buries himself in your warmth with a needy mewl, instantly beginning to attack your clit with eager sucks and quick licks. 

“Oh”, you let out, twitching in surprise. “Woah.” You croak, grabbing his hair to twist it. 

Jungkook mewls into you, enjoying the burn on his scalp and the overwhelmed throbbing of your pussy. He knows that he went for it rather aggressively, but he had to. You are doubting his devotion to you. He needs to show you that he starves whenever he isn’t between your legs. You need to know that your taste is all he ever wants. 

“Holy fuck, you’re being - ah - shit, Kook fuck ah, you’re being ah rather, ah, rather aggressive, mhhhm, wouldn’t you say-aah?” You somehow get out, writhing under his mouth.

He nods his head and moans his words against you. “All I want is you. I was so starved.” His tongue glides through your folds, filling your walls for a change. Not that your clit is getting a break. He uses his pretty nose for it, sinking into your sweetened scent as he grinds his nose into your clit while he tongue fucks you quickly. 

You growl deeply and roll your eyes back sensually, arching your back. Your legs fall open weakly, now held only by Jungkook's strong arms and his needy hands. 

“You’re insane, holy fuck.” 

Jungkook hums and breaks away sloppily. He talks as he kisses your pussy. “Yeah, insane for you. My fucking goddess, my everything, my life. Fuck, I want you.” He takes your clit between his messy lips and uses his skilled tongue on it. 

“Oh god, stay there ah!” 

Jungkook mewls in understanding, gazing up at you with darkened yet devoted eyes. You are so loud. Your chest is lifting and rising quickly. Fuck, your tits are so sexy. Jungkook slides his right hand from your thigh to cradle your tit instead. It takes him a second of fumbling and then he has your nipple between his fingers, rolling and massaging it just how you like it. 

“Kook, baby”, you keen, holding his hand and twisting his hair at the same time. You don’t stop him, you just want to hold so much of him. He makes you feel so good and you need to make sure this is real.

Jungkook purrs into you, closing his eyes sensually. You are writhing so happily, moaning because of him. Are the others hearing you? Are they hearing that he makes you feel good because he is yours? A part of him hopes that they can. Especially the women going back to the hotel with his friends. He furrows his brows, suddenly feeling angry at them. How dare they make his woman feel insecure. Hopefully they hear how good you feel right now, hopefully they get the fucking message that Jungkook does all of this for you. 

“Slow down, ah, Kook slow down you’re being so, ah fuck, so aggressive”, your squeaks rip him back to reality. He has been pressing his mouth into your pussy as tightly as possible, almost licking your clit raw. Fuck, he was so angry at the world that he was too rough with you.

He whimpers, lifting his mouth, “I’m sorry. Fuck, I can’t exist without you, I’m sorry I was…I just love you so much”, he lulls, kissing your clit as apology. 

“You’re such a munch, ah fuuuuck”, you sigh, opening your legs even further. You guide his hand to your other nipple for a change because even that he rubbed raw. Jungkook switches arms for it quickly, moaning when you hold his new hand as well. His right hand he guides down to your pussy, burying his two longest digits in your dripping warmth. 

“Jungkook!” you yelp, thrusting your hips. 

“Yours. I’m yours”, he mewls, connecting his puffy lips with your clit so he can lick you again. Up and down, up and down, up and down. You like this the most, walls throbbing around his digits as he uses them to stimulate you from the other side as well. You clench down on him, making it feel so much better for you.

“I can’t hold back anymore.”

Jungkook mewls and opens his eyes. He needs to watch you break apart. First you throw your head to the side and lift your brows. Then his name falls off your tongue and your mouth stays open. Next a loud moan and your back lifting off the sheets. Finally the rhythmic throbbing begins and Jungkook knows that he has you orgasming on his tongue and fingers. 

He whimpers into you, feeling high and trying to do the best job at keeping the touches perfect for you. 

“Wow, holy fuck”, you come down with a curse, flinching when he overstimulates you with needy licks. You tug on his hair. “No more, puppy.” 

Jungkook mewls sadly but obeys. He slips his fingers out and drops your nipple, placing both hands on your thighs instead so he could guide them to his lips. He needs more of you. Now that you deny him your sweet cunt, he needs to find relief in the softness of your thighs. He sucks and kisses the tender flesh, listening to your voice as you talk to him.

“You were fucking insane tonight. What the hell?” 

You writhe in the aftershocks. Jungkook changes thighs, worshiping it with throaty mewls. 

“I can’t tell whether I came with my clit or my g-spot or my fucking nipples. Oh god, Kook.” 

He whimpers, humping the mattress. Good. That’s good. He did this to you. It’s all he wanted.

“You’re insane, seriously.”

“I love you, couldn’t help myself”, he lulls and dares to kiss your pussy. Gently. 

“Ah”, you gasp and chuckle, burying your hands in his hair to ruffle it, “stop it, you munch.”

Jungkook mewls, shaking his head as he places more kisses on your well eaten pussy. You smell so good after a high. He is delirious between your legs, floating on cloud nine. 

But you are sensitive and so you pull him up with a gentle tug to his hair.

“Be a good puppy.”

He finally comes up, letting out a sweet sigh of your name. His lips are glossy from your orgasm, his damp hair sticks to his forehead. He lays himself down over you, gazing at you dreamily.

You brush his hair out of his face, cradling his cheeks. He mewls, lowering his eyes droopily as he leans into your touch.

“This was amazing, thank you.”

He shakes his head, “thank you for letting me taste you, Mistress.”

“Gosh you sweetie. Wanna have a reward?” 

“Yes please”, he whimpers, eyes glassy in devotion.

“I knew you would like that. Get ready for me, yeah?”

“I already am, Mistress.”

“What?” 

Jungkook breaks out of your touch to turn his back to you. He is kneeling between your legs, lowering himself to his elbows so his back is arched and his butt lifted into the air. The towel is still covering him. 

“What do you mean? Are you wearing a plug?” you ask, sitting up to tug the towel from him. It falls on the sheets, revealing his sweet bubble butt to you and the big plug lodged right between his cheeks.

“Jungkook, what the hell?” you get out, gawking with parted lips and widened eyes.

He whimpers cutely, wiggling his hips. You still them with a hungry grip, making him moan just for you. He looks over his shoulder at you, carrying nothing but submission in his pretty eyes.

“I put it in before the concert. I planned on asking for your strap after the show, but then we had this fight and I gave up on it.” 

“Holy fuck….” 

“I’m yours for life, Mistress.”

Your eyes meet. He is honest. You gulp, squeezing his hips as your eyes switch back to the plug. It is black in colour and has a round base. The silicon is made of the highest quality, sitting so perfectly in his hole. 

“You performed with it in?” you ask, voice croaky and frail because he has you so weak. 

“Yeah. It was so difficult sometimes. I kept thinking of you and trying not to get hard.”

“Holy fuck and I was being fucking jealous…”

“It’s okay, Mistress. I was yours all the time.”

“Holy shit”, you whisper, soaking the towel with your excitement. “I can’t believe you held a concert plugged up. This is so hot, I can’t process it.”

“Just for you, Mistress.”

“Kook, wow. And when we talked?”

“No, it wasn’t in.”

“Did you take it out in the shower?”

“Yeah. I hid it in my clothes but then, then we made up again and I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry Mistress, I put it back in.” 

He mewls and sticks his ass closer to you, revealing more of it. He is such a natural at arching his back. Holy fuck, you are dripping like as a fucking river. 

“Please, can you be inside me? Please, I need you inside me, please”, he begs.

“Fuck, you’re so hot”, you get out, giving his buttocks a spank each.

He flinches both times, moaning sweetly and fingers twisting the sheets. The impact was just harsh enough that his skin reddens a little where you struck him. Not much, it is but a cute little flush.

“You’re blushing now, puppy”, you tease him, rubbing the tender spots. 

Jungkook curses under his breath, burying his face in the sheets with a sensual roll of his eyes.

“Hm, cute”, you smile, giving his tailbone a kiss before straightening up. “Stay like this for me, okay?” 

“Yes, Mistress.” 

You get everything you need to make him yours, putting it on next to the bed. Tonight isn’t the first night you peg Jungkook on this tour or in general for that matter. Anal sex is quite the regular thing between you and him and tonight it feels especially hot. 

To think that he performed plugged up. You might need to rearrange his guts for it. You place the lube bottle in the sheets and climb back onto bed behind him, running your palms along his butt. Jungkook’s breath quickens, he squirms a little. You know that he is so, so excited right now. 

“Mhm, you’re tempting me being like this, you know?” 

He mewls, arching his back.

“So pretty. Makes me wanna pound you like we’re two fucking dogs in heat.”

He moans, heavy cock twitching between his meaty thighs and hole moving the plug needily. It gets him off like crazy when you talk rough with him.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” 

He nods his head vigorously, giving you a sweet cute moan.

“Of course you did. It’s a shame that I don’t want this.” 

“Huh?” he peeks at you pleadingly but gulps when he sees the dirty smirk you are sporting. 

“Get on your back, puppy. Now.” 

Jungkook obeys as quickly as his wobbly knees allow him. He flips right where he is, head facing the foot end of the bed and feet the pillows. 

“That’s it”, you rasp, lying yourself down over him with your hands on each side of his head. 

He gulps, gazing at you in devotion. He reaches up and grasps your wrists, arching his back just for you. His dark hair is ruffled on the white sheets.

“That’s what I want. I wanna look at your pretty face as I make you mine.”

“Mistress…” 

“Yeah, you like that too, don’t you?”

“So much”, he whimpers, nodding his head vigorously. He lets out a little sob, “please I’m so horny, Mistress.” 

“Of course you are. You can sing about being a girl’s Master all you want, but that’s not you, is it? You don’t get off to that, do you?”

“No, Mistress”, he shakes his head, pouting in desperation, “no, I’m Mistress’ puppy. You, you get me off.” 

“Yes, I do. You’re mine. Mine to form and command and own.” 

He moans, thrusting his hips up which results in your strap to rub against his cock. He whimpers and does it again. 

You glance down and chuckle.

“Would you look at that”, you sit up, kneeling with his legs slung around your thighs. You pick up his cock and yours, squeezing them together in a sensual handjob. 

“Holy fuck”, Jungkook croaks and rolls his eyes back, head digging into the sheets and arms reaching high above it to twist the sheets. He arches his back, toes curling on the sheets and cock throbbing against yours. The power you have over him is so obvious to you and it’s getting you off like nothing else. He might have thousands of girls screaming at his feet, he might be singing for them but in your hands, he is turning into a pretty puppy with just the first touch. Only you get to make his body move like that. Only you get to make his face pull this expression. And only you get to make him sing in such ways.

“That’s what I mean. That’s the fucking view I want, puppy. You’re mine, aren’t you?”

“Yourssss”, Jungkook mewls, dragging out the word in a sweet moan as his body writhes on the sheets against his will. Because when he is in your hands he has no own will, no own thoughts. You control him, everything he does, every movement his body makes. 

“Mhhm mine, all mine”, you purr, looking at your cocks so close together.

The dildo you have strapped into the harness is translucent because there is something incredibly arousing about seeing it inside Jungkook. It makes his hole look so pretty. It also looks very pretty against his cock. 

You open the lube bottle with your other hand and tilt it over your cocks to squirt a good amount down on them. Jungkook reacts in a mewl of your name and his cock throbbing against yours. 

“Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck”, he curses repeatedly under his breath, lost in the frotting with closed eyes and an agape mouth. His throat looks so sexy like this. 

You spread the lube on your cocks, doing a good job with it. You even break them apart for a bit to jerk them off with one hand each. Jungkook kicks the sheets, voice cracking in the back of his throat.

“Stay still, puppy.” 

“I’m sensitive”, he mewls, kicking again despite trying not to.

“I know you are. You always are. Just try for me, okay?” 

“Oh god”, he whispers, following it up with a desperate keen. He tenses his thighs, forcing his legs to stay still as best as possible. His abs rifle as well, trying so hard to keep his hips from squirming.

“There we go. Good puppy”, you praise and press your cocks together again. You wrap both hands around them, using them to pump you from the bases all the way to the tips.

“A-a-ah”, Jungkook lets out loudly, squirming instantly. 

“Puppy”, you warn in a laugh.

“I’m sorry I- oh!” he sits up as best as possible and grabs your hands tightly. 

“Hm?” 

“Stop, holy fu- wait please. Let go.”

You let him pull you away, gawking at his face so you wouldn’t miss the grimace of agony he pulls. He frowns, gritting his teeth and curling his lips back. He looks so angry like this, but you know better. He was one second away from orgasming. 

“What’s the matter?” you feign your ignorance.

“Close, fuck”, he growls and pushes your hands to your sides, so he can cradle your face instead. He kisses the first spot his lips touch, breathing all over your face. “___ oh my god.”

You chuckle softly, caressing his waist. You can feel how heavily he breathes.

“Why didn’t you let go?”

“I can’t. Not yet. If I let go, I get too tight and…”

“And you can’t get tight yet. Oh puppy, you’re such a good boy. Wanna stay loose for Mistress, mhm?” 

“Yeah”, he mouths at your nose. “So loose. Oh god Mistress, please can you be inside me?” 

“You’re so perfect. Lie down again, okay?”

Jungkook follows your instructions. You touch his thighs and he is already propping his legs up to give you easier access. 

“Very good.” 

You turn away for a second to grab a pillow, turning back to Jungkook already having lifted his butt. 

“Look at you. You’re so obedient tonight.”

“I’m always obedient.” 

You laugh, “no, sometimes you’re being a little brat.”

“That’s only when the concert was really fun. I’m too hyper afterwards.”

“Yeah, I noticed this too. You’re an egg, you know?” 

He huffs out air, “why do you get to call me egg, but I can’t call you muffin?” 

You smile and place yourself atop of him, lowering yourself to your elbows to brush your lips against his’.

“Because I say so.”

“Holy fuck, please kiss me” he breathes, mesmerised beyond saving.

“Mhm, soon”, you tease and straighten up again. 

You run your palms down the inside of his thighs, calling his attention to your touch. 

“Are you comfortable like this?”

“Yeah, really.”

You brush your hands past his cock, speeding up his breath because he knows what will come next. You trace the plug, meeting his eyes.

“Relax for me.” 

He exhales shakily, nodding his head.

“There we go. So good.”

You pull the plug out slowly, making him moan with a throbbing cock. You moan with him, almost drooling at the view. The plug is huge. At least four inches in length and with a diameter as girthy as your strap. His hole barely wants to give it up, stretching around it as you free him from it. 

“Holy fuck, you walked around with this inside?”

“Yes, oh god Mistress oh god, oh god.”

“This is so sexy. Fuck…Kook…you’re so sexy.” 

The plug slips out, forcing his hole to squeeze out hot lube. Thankfully you laid out a towel under his butt because he is already making a mess. 

“I hate this, oh god I wanna be filled up”, Jungkook mewls, squirming in agony.

“Soon, puppy.”

You place the plug aside and spread new lube in your palm to cover your cock with it. The excess you spread on his lose hole. 

Jungkook calms down at the touch but only because it means that he will get your cock soon. He glances at you as best as the position allows. 

You smile at him, scooting closer. It happens naturally that he drapes his legs over yours so your thighs were under his propped up legs and you could be so much closer. Your skins are melted together like this, sharing warmth. It feels so good to know that only you get to experience his body heat this way.

“Are you ready?” 

“So ready, oh god.” 

“Take a deep breath in for me.”

He obeys your command.

“Good, hold it in for three…” you guide your cock to his hole, “..two…” you touch his hole with your tip, “...one, release”, you push inside. 

Jungkook release the breath in a squeaky moan, fingers gripping your thighs instantly and head rolling to the side. You stop with his rim around your tip.

“Look at me.” 

He obeys.

“There we go. Keep looking at me as I slip it in. I wanna see how handsome you look.” 

You move again, pushing your cock further into him. It is so easy to fill him. There is no resistance, just utter willingness to take you.

Jungkook lets out one sound - one breathy, beautiful sound - and then one tear spills from each of his eyes, running down his temples. 

“Hey, are you okay? Does it hurt?” 

He shakes his head, furrowing his brows as he croaks his words.

“Just love you so much.” 

“Oh.” You bottom out. “I love you too.” 

“___ oh god” he chokes out and rolls his  eyes back, squeezing them shut. He spills new tears like this, dimpling your thighs from how needily he holds you. 

“Try to breathe, okay?” 

He nods his head, throwing it back a moment later when you begin rolling your hips into him. He moans your name with no hesitation, arching his back as if it was the best feeling he ever experienced.

“Is this good for you?” 

“It’s the best I ever felt, oh god.”

“Shit, my stomach’s so tingly because of you. You say the hottest shit.” 

“Keep moving please, oh…oh!” 

His hole moves around your cock. He is so flushed on his rim and so pink inside. You see both. Just as you see his cock twitch each time you bottom out. He is trembling so much, moaning so loudly that you want to keep moving just so he doesn’t stop. Is he loud enough that the others hear him? Do the fans hear him? Is it finally enough to show them that he is yours and only yours? Parts of you hope that they can hear him moan on your strap. 

You roll your hips into him, burying your cock deep in his dripping walls. You stay there, writing your name. Jungkook’s moans rise in pitch, he arches his back and curses against his will.

“Am I hitting it, mhm?” 

He nods his head vigorously, leaving nail marks on your skin. 

“Yeah? Right there?” 

You place the flat of your palm on his lower stomach and press down. Your cock hits your palm through his stomach. Jungkook wails up, reaching up to press his hands into his eyes and twist his hair at the same time. His sculpted arms are flexed like this. The noises he makes are like music to your ears. 

“Right there, I know. I can feel myself inside you, puppy. You’re so filled up with me.” 

You don’t expect Jungkook to answer you. His helpless, drugged out noises are everything you need. He is such a good singer, so talented and perfect but he sounds best when you make him moan. The range he shows during such moments is impressive. How can go from deep growls to the highest squeaks and he never sounds off. Honestly, you could get off just listening to him. You really could. 

“Right there, good puppy. You’re taking me so well.”

You draw circles with your palm as you fuck yourself into him. You need him stimulated from as many angles as possible. You need him to feel stuffed and feel every fucking one of your long, drawn out thrusts. You aren’t fucking him right now, you are making sweet possessive love to him. You need every second to feel like endless ecstasy to him. 

And oh how it does. How you mess him up. How weak he is in your hands. 

You can feel it in his stomach first then watch it in his face.

“Is this good, mhm?” you taunt. 

“I have to cum.”

“Don’t let me stop you.”

Jungkook sobs your name, pulling his own hair back as he breaks around your strap. He becomes restless, but you push him down with your hand on his tensing stomach. 

“There we go. Let that pressure go, such a good puppy. Cumming so good with your ass”, you talk him through it, watching in fucking obsession. 

You are making him cum without touching his cock. He needed to have your strap so badly that he can orgasm just from it. Oh you are going to make him scream once he calmed down. 

You give him a few moments to catch his breath after his high, allowing his hole to relax around you.

“How was that?”

Jungkook squeaks and mewls weakly, nodding his head.

Knowing he is too ruined to see, you spread more lube on your cock then finally lay yourself atop of him. 

One hard thrust is all it takes. Jungkook rips his eyes open, taking it with a squeal and his brown eyes so big. 

“You’re not done. Hear me?” You rasp, thrusting into him deeply and harshly. 

“___!” He yelps, grabbing your shoulders.

Your eyes are darkened and widened in craze, pinning him down until he feels small and tiny. His hole is throbbing, his insides are so sensitive. Jungkook’s toes curl against his will, he hears his own pulse in his head. This is so overstimulating and he can’t escape it. 

Another deep thrust forces him to slip closer to the edge. You chase him, using the momentum to drill your cock into him until his ass connects with your thighs in a loud slap. His back bends, his feet fly into the air and collide with your lower back. 

“Yeah, that’s it. Wrap your legs around me”, encourage him in a growl, twisting the sheets beside his head. His weakened fingers fall from your shoulders, grabbing his own hair again as he cries under you. 

“Mhm look at your arms like this, so fucking sexy”, you rasp, licking along his biceps before you end it with a deep thrust. The kind which shakes him to his very core and drags an ecstatic moan from his tongue. 

You lick his other arm as well, rewarding his very presence with another thrust. Jungkook shakes under you, stomach convulsing and hole desperately trying to push you out. Not that he wants you out. It happens against his will. You fuck him so good that his body reacts by trying to push. It brings the most sensitive parts to the surface. The parts which are soft and tender and so easily stimulated. Jungkook keeps switching between clenching and pushing, having no control over it as you have him under your spell. 

All he can do is make whatever kind of noises you fuck out of him and pray that he will survive this night. You are so assertive in your thrusts, so possessive in the way you claim him. Granted, you always get a little possessive when you peg him, but tonight it is the main motivator for each of your skilled thrusts and it’s ruining him.

“You’re mine. Holy shit, you’re mine.”

Jungkook wants to say it back, but he can’t. He rarely loses his ability to speak, but he has no words left tonight. You never felt like this before. You never fucked with such force, such depth and craze. And he never felt so frail before. He is so much stronger than you and yet he can’t use any of it right now. His legs tremble around your waist against his will, his arms feel like useless noodles as you lick and bite them repeatedly and his torso is on fire from the constant pleasure you shoot up his body. 

He is yours. Don’t be mistaken. He is yours and yours and yours. He just can’t say back. He physically can’t talk. 

“All of this is mine. Shit puppy, I love you like fucking crazy. I need help.” 

You bite his biceps especially hard, making him sob and drop his arms weakly. His flesh slips from your teeth, his messy face comes into your view. He looks ruined. Teary, snotty, sweaty and flushed. You lower yourself to your elbows and cradle his face, resting your forehead against his’ while your hips chase his depths.

“All mine. For life”, you whisper.

“You’re making me cum”, he sobs, orgasming on your length a second later. He reaches for your face and cries, whimpering your name like his last call for saving. But there is no saving him from the kind of high you give him. He has to get through it even if it feels so good that he loses himself to it. Even if it is so hot that his body is burning. Even if it digs so deep that he actually feels every single nerve in his body make sense of it. 

And because you are you, you make it even better by picking up his cock and jerking it off quickly. 

Jungkook screams, fleeing you until his head falls over the edge and tangles in the air. You chase him, drilling his throbbing hole in quick rolls of your hips while your hand milks his cock.

“Give me everything, puppy. Every single drop.” 

“I have to pee! Please too much! Too much. I’ll piss myself, please!”

“Don’t hold back. Let it happen, puppy. Fucking piss yourself for me.” 

You twist your hand around his cockhead and fuck his swollen prostate, sealing his fate. The stimulation is too much, the pleasure too big. Jungkook gets set off one last time, finally orgasming with his cock. He shoots a huge load of creamy cum at first, covering his own torso and parts of the sheets. Then it happens just as he had said. He spurts sweet pee everywhere, crying like a pathetic boy as you help him get reborn. 

You climax like this with him, spilling tears from the beautiful view in front of you. You own him to the point where you control his bodily functions. He pisses himself for you and screams your name as he does. This is like heroin to you. 

Jungkook tightens up painfully after his high. He reaches for you with one hand, using the other to hit the mattress in his safety gesture. 

You let go of him instantly, stilling your hips.

“Out please out.”

“I am. Relax and breathe. Breathe.”

You slip out of his painfully tight hole, soothing it afterwards with soft rubs.

“Breathe baby, it’s already done.”

“Holy fuck, oh god”, he croaks and then the next moments are filled with sounds of you and him catching your breaths. 

You know that he needs this and you need it too. You can’t stop looking at him and the puddle he left on his own torso. His own cum mixes with it. His sweat does too. He did this for you. Because you told him to. You really don’t have to worry, do you? 

Jungkook comes back to you, trying to sit up.

“Ah, everything hurts”, he gives up, head still tangling over the edge. 

“Wait. I’ll wipe you down and then help.”

He lets you clean him. 

“Wrap your arms around me.”

He obeys, giggling in surprise when you tug him up moments later. Like this, you and he are facing each other, legs tangled together and bodies so close. You cradle his neck and rub his upper back, gazing into his beautiful eyes. 

He has his fingers in your hair as deeply as possible, eyes lost in yours. 

“I love you”, you whisper.

“I love you too”, he breathes and spills tears.

You wipe them instantly, “don’t cry.”

“I’m happy. You made me feel so good.”

“Yeah? It felt so good for me too. Oh Kookie”, you cradle his cheeks, resting your forehead against his’, “you peed yourself for me.”

“I would do it again. It’d do anything for you.” He hugs you, face hidden in the safe crook of your neck. “I never experienced something like this before. Not with anyone. I can’t believe this happened to me. Thank you, ___. It felt so good, you have no idea.” 

“Mmh no I think I’m getting an idea.”

“You do?”

“You’re making me squirt regularly, remember?” 

He snickers, nodding his head. 

“I know how you felt.” You hug him tighter. “I’m so glad you felt this way. Shit baby, I feel so giddy. This was so perfect for me.” 

“Yes, it was perfect. Thank you for being like this. I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

He nuzzles and sighs. There is no more bad blood between you and him. You love him and he loves you, it is finally clear to both of you again. This is all that you needed tonight. Oh, how wonderful it is to be together. 

“So, about room service. I was thinking. We could order two things from the menu each and then share it. So we get to try lots of food.”

“I get that the pegging made you hungry?”

“Mhm, you basically fucked a new stomach into me. I gotta fill it.”

You laugh loudly, breaking away to look at him.

“It’s stuff like that which makes you an egg. You say the weirdest stuff. Only an egg can do that.” 

He laughs.

“Well, only muffins complain about this which makes you The Muffin of all the muffins.” 

“Oh Kook, you cutie. I’m so happy with you”, you giggle, pulling him back into the hug. One which he falls into gladly and with a fluttering heart. “Don’t ever break my heart. Hear me?” you say, plead even. 

“I wouldn’t even dream of it. Your heart is safe with me. Actually, I’ll build it its own cozy home and make sure it’s always taken care of. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. If your heart was a flower, I would water it each day and give it sunlight so it won’t ever have to wither away.”

You melt with him, spilling tears on his naked shoulder. 

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook.”

“I love you too, ___.”

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 1 | jjk

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers / fluff / angst / smut (in later chapters)

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, SLOW BURN

words: 7.5k

chapter 1 ► when i open my eyes to the future, i can hear you say my name

There was virtually not a single person left on the entire fourth floor of the company building, despite it being a Monday afternoon. Normally, two other managers worked in offices adjacent to yours, so the noise in the hallways never settled below a pleasant hum: producers, promoters, and publicists – the three cursed Ps – shuffled in and out, heels clicking urgently against the marble floor.

This funeral silence was unusual, but you knew it was only a calm before the storm.

Rated Riot were going on their first-ever European tour in two days to promote their sophomore album – named aptly, “ready, set, RIOT” – and today was the final day of meetings. Evidently, the executives at Jett Records assumed that the band deserved to have a whole floor to themselves, so everyone else got a half-day, leaving you and the Floor Administrator, Rue, all by yourselves until the band got here.

This unsettling silence was exactly why you heard them arrive as soon as the door of the building opened four floors below. Rated Riot lived up to their name by making themselves heard before they were seen.

As soon as the sharp ding! of the elevator reached you in your office—your door was always open on meeting days, because the four members of one of the most promising rock bands in the world at the moment lacked any sense of direction—you could immediately feel the atmosphere lighten, the previous silence long gone.

“Rue! The apple of my eye!” Hoseok, the drummer and the de facto mood setter of Rated Riot, exclaimed as you listened to the familiar sounds of the band as they exited the elevator and, based on the repeated clicking of shoes in the lobby, momentarily got disoriented.

“Always looking good, Rue!” Jungkook, the vocalist, as well as the new Golden Boy of Jett Records followed after.

“Good to see you again,” Taehyung, the always well-mannered bassist, said. Silence followed and you assumed he shook Rue’s hand.

“Hello,” Yoongi, who was, technically, the guitarist of the band, but, really, played any instrument he could get his hands on, was the last to speak. He’d always been very well-spoken in songwriting, but quieter and more careful in most everyday conversations.

“Welcome, guys,” Rue greeted them. You couldn’t see any of them from where your office was located, but you’ve been in a similar situation countless times before and you could imagine what was happening without needing to witness it first-hand.

Rue would stand up from her seat and point her right hand down the hallway, reminding them—yet again—that they needed to walk down the hall and take a right turn. The members of Rated Riot, in turn, would walk down the hall. At least one of the four of them would turn left instead, causing a pause as the group gathered back together, exchanging confused glances. Then, they would turn back to Rue—who would still be standing there, her right hand extended like a helpful Statue of Liberty. They’d laugh at themselves, nod at Rue, and take the correct turn.

If things were going well, they’d find your office on first try—they’d just need to find the open door and peer inside; your desk was right in front. More often than not, however, they stumbled around, knocking and chuckling to themselves as they continuously interrupted the offices of everyone else, but you.

They were special. Not just because they looked like loose ducklings, separated from the Mother Duck, whenever they entered the company building, but also because, in spite of their own lack of coordination, they still managed to get things done.

And they brightened the day of everyone they came across. Which was almost ironic—as you realised by watching the four of them enter your office—considering the effortless rockstar aura that surrounded them.

Jungkook walked in first. That was typical because he usually did: sometimes because he was the only one who remembered where your office was, but usually because the other members offered him as a sacrificial lamb when they went knocking around every office on the floor in search of yours.

He was dressed in all-black—always—adorned with silver chains and necklaces that often gave you a start when you looked up, because he had a very specific way of entering the room: he seemed to make sure to position himself in just a way that the light, coming in from the window behind you, always reflected off his jewellery and momentarily blinded you.

Sure enough, you blinked, cringing into yourself as the brightness hit your eyes, and when you opened them again, he was already grinning.

“Hi,” he said and the rest of the members followed in after him—a brighter palette of colours.

Even Yoongi, who was the only one who could have given Jungkook a run for his money if you had to count which one had more black items of clothing in their closet, was wearing a beige, loosely buttoned shirt.

Despite that, however, you could tell they were rock artists as soon as you looked at them—all tattoos, piercings, intense eye make-up behind sunglasses, and old band tees—and you stood up, excited to let them know that, finally, every last loose thread had been found and tightened. They’d get to introduce their artistry on a different continent, and you’d make sure it’d go smoothly.

“We’re leaving for Prague tomorrow morning,” you told them once the five of you settled down at the round table in the back of your office. “So, if you were planning a going away party, I strongly advise against it.”

“We weren’t,” Yoongi said, lifting his glass of lemon water—there was a jug on the table—and giving you a reassuring look. “This is the strongest drink I’m having tonight.”

“Thanks,” you said paradoxically enough, but being grateful when the members of the band you managed didn’t get drunk before an important day was part of the job. “I’d also appreciate it if—”

“Hold on a second, though,” Jungkook interrupted—you’d been anticipating it. “I’m going to a gig tonight, Reconnaissance are in town again. And there’s obviously an after-party—”

Despite Reconnaissance being, arguably, one of the most popular rock bands in the world right now, you were definite when you cut him off, “No.”

“—so, I—wait. No?” he paused. “I never miss their shows, you know that. And I don’t get drunk easily. You know that, too.”

“That’s why you drink so much,” you rebutted. The rest of the band members got their phones out, knowing well enough at this point that this would take a while. “And then I have to come get you out of trouble.”

“You absolutely do not have to do that,” Jungkook insisted. “We’ve been through this.”

“Have we?” you argued. “Because I keep telling you it’s my job to keep you from passing out in a dirty bar bathroom, but you don’t care enough to hear me.”

“Well, you’re not very convincing. What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll wake up again.”

You were used to having this conversation with him—you’ve argued about this way before he became a singer and you ended up as his manager. And yet, the lax way he said this made you clench your fists.

Despite being mostly introverted, Jungkook did enjoy getting drinks with friends: even if said friends enjoyed his celebrity status more than they enjoyed the drinks.

“And if you don’t?” you threatened. “Rated Riot’s vocalist gets his stomach pumped. A catchy headline.”

“Yeah, man,” Hoseok interjected, putting his phone screen down on the table and crossing his arms. “Doesn’t go well with the vibe we’re going for. Don’t get your stomach pumped.”

“Fine, I—”

“What he meant was, don’t drink so much that you’d need your stomach pumped,” you clarified because Jungkook moonlighted as a Loophole Finder.

“I never have!” he insisted. “Seriously, you treat me like I’m still nineteen. Have some faith.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the other members of the group look up from their phones. The band had only formed a few years ago, so you were the only person in this room who knew what Jungkook was like when he was nineteen. You never spoke about it – that was likely why everyone was so curious.

In any case, Jungkook was wrong. You did have faith—that’s why you spent so many of your off-duty nights driving down deserted streets to pick him up after his asshole friends convinced him it was a good idea to try the biker bar on the outskirts of town, and he’d gotten in an altercation with a burly redneck that was twice his size.

There was no time for that now, not when he was supposed to be on stage in Prague in three days.

“Well,” Taehyung spoke up. “I was thinking of going to the show as well. Not so much the after-party, I have better plans. But, uh, I could come, after all.”

You appreciated the offer, but you knew that these better plans involved him spending time with his girlfriend, Luna, who was going to join him for a few weeks of the European tour, but after that, the two of them were going to be apart for several months.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you said, not trying very much to hide the hopeful undertones in your voice. Jungkook’s friends felt intimidated by all the members of Rated Riot; they’d be on their best behaviour if Taehyung was there.

“No, I think it might be fun,” Taehyung said. You exhaled quietly and he could sense your gratitude without words. He turned to his younger bandmate. “Should we go together?”

Jungkook groaned and mumbled under his breath, “not if I have to third-wheel again.”

“When have you ever third-wheeled anyone?” you asked rhetorically, but he was already opening his mouth to reply. Quickly, you added, “be careful, is what I’m saying, okay? I am complaining about having to pick you up from all kinds of holes, but if you need me to bring NDAs, I will bring them. So, ask.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but chose to stay quiet. He knew better now – the one time he did not make anyone sign a non-disclosure agreement after an impromptu, drunken busking session in New York, pictures of him, half-dressed and giving a lap dance to a random, equally as drunk, groupie, were on every rock page on Instagram. Accompanied with detailed retellings of how it came to happen, of course; all of them more ridiculous than the next. Your personal favourite story was that he was recruiting members for a sex cult.

“We’ll call you,” Taehyung gave you a nod, “if we have to.”

“Perfect,” you said, glancing at Jungkook again, even though expecting him to confirm that he, too, would call you if he had to, was wishful thinking.

Every time you reminded him how he needed to start going out with a less destructive crowd, he’d treat his phone like a poisonous snake – and he’d been doing that even before you became his manager. His friends seemed to get their pleasure fix from watching you arrive and rip him a new one, so they were the ones who called you most of the time, always laughing into their phones like true accomplices.

It was funny how Jungkook was the only one who passed out or got so wasted, he ended up on a ferry to Martha’s Vineyard. His friends always walked away unscathed and, usually, only called you by the time they were back in their bedrooms – “when we left, he was ordering mint and honey daiquiris, you should probably go over there and check up on him.”

It was like they loved pushing him into danger and purposefully bringing the two of you together again, and Jungkook either didn’t realise or didn’t care anymore. It’s been a while, after all.

You and Jungkook had been broken up for almost two years when you got the unbelievable offer to manage an up-and-coming rock band. This was over two years ago now and you were only twenty-four back then. Up until that point, you had worked as an assistant manager for various indie artists, so that offer was massive.

You figured the downside that your ex-boyfriend happened to be in this particular band was worth it, considering the huge leap in your career you’d make by accepting this job.

And, for the most part (excluding the first two months that were pure chaos of repressed feelings), you and Jungkook both made this work, drawing a strict line between your relationship before Rated Riot (back when he still had your phone number saved as “❌”) and after he met you again as Rated Riot’s new manager (ironically, now your name on his phone was “❌❌❌”).

You’ve managed Rated Riot for almost exactly two years now, and if you’d asked the band – which you wouldn’t, partially out of humbleness, but also because you were scared – you’d know that they loved working with you as much as you loved working with them. So, in the end, it all really had been worth it.

“Check your emails for the descriptive itineraries,” you continued smoothly enough. The guys at the table put their phones down and returned their attention to you. “Now, who else is coming with us?”

Technically, the band wasn’t supposed to bring anyone – the label was explicitly clear about that. They wanted the first European tour to go “without a hitch” (meaning, without distractions), but you held a more liberal view here.

You didn’t think loved ones coming on the road were a distraction; if anything, they were a firm support mechanism that made touring easier for the artists.

“I know Luna’s staying until the Barcelona show, yeah?” you asked, double-checking the notes on your laptop.

Taehyung nodded, a small smile on his lips at the mention of the girl. “She flies out the next day, yeah.”

“Okay. Who else?”

“Well, Sid and Jude are coming,” Jungkook spoke up and, after seeing your eyes roll back, added, quieter, “and Minjun isn’t sure.”

The three musketeer-wannabes – Sid, Jude, and Minjun – were on speed dial on your work and personal phones, because if Rated Riot had a performance and the vocalist wasn’t there, it was likely those three who were to blame. They were the only ones who knew Jungkook longer than you did, and they seemed to take pride in the fact that they had successfully been causing you headaches for seven years now.

“Sid and Jude,” you repeated, “aren’t worried they’ll lose their jobs if they travel to Europe abruptly?”

“No, they’re cool,” Jungkook shrugged, not catching the mockery in your voice—both Sid and Jude worked for their families, which really meant that they got paid to occasionally show up at the shareholders’ meetings on behalf of their parents. “I’ll text Minjun right now. Maybe he’ll come when we’re in Poland…”

“I needed confirmation by last week,” you reminded him. “At the latest.”

He glanced at you from his phone and then went back to texting. “So, why’d you ask now?”

“To double-check,” you said. “They’re going to have to book the hotels themselves. Or sleep on the street. Honestly, I don’t really—”

“So, uh,” Yoongi interrupted before another argument could begin, “how many hotels this time?”

“Prague, Amsterdam, and Paris. And some nights in London, depending on our flight time,” you said with an apologetic smile. “Bring your favourite blankets. We’re living on buses for the next three months.”

None of them minded – if anything, you could see a little glitter in their eyes as they listened to you. Being on the road and having to sleep on the tour bus every night was an experience they’d missed. They hadn’t gone on an actual tour in almost a year – as someone who thrived on live performances, they had obviously missed this.

Really, you’ve missed it, too. Rated Riot may have been a riot to look after as their manager – pun fully intended – especially on tour, but they were your riot to deal with.

You liked your job and the challenges that came with it, because, in the end, you overcame most of them: starting with your previous relationship with Jungkook (no one in the band had a problem with it, and the label miraculously seemed not to know about it) and ending with your relatively young age (Jungkook was the only one who had a problem with you being his age, but he had a problem with almost everything).

Hopefully, one day you’d manage to overcome the challenge that was getting Jungkook to open his eyes and realise that the people he surrounded himself with were more groupies than his friends. But all in due time.

“If you have questions,” you said as the meeting approached its’ conclusion, “go right ahead.”

“Wake-up calls,” Yoongi said. “Any possibility of arranging those?”

You smiled – this had been traditional practice ever since you started to work with them.

“I’ll call,” you said and then remembered a particularly frustrating way in which this had backfired. You added, “and keep you on the phone until you’re out of bed.”

Back when you were an assistant manager to a different band, this had been your main task. And, you supposed, if Rated Riot had assistant managers, they’d be the ones making wake-up calls, too – however, the band had only started to live up to their potential now. Before you booked the European tour for them, Jett Records thought they barely needed one manager to begin with.

You’ve made it this far. If the tour went well, maybe you’d get to expand your team as the band gained popularity.

Jungkook felt giddy the whole night. The Reconnaissance show with Taehyung and Luna was a lot of fun, as expected—he’d seen the band five times before tonight, and they never failed to let him down.

When he arrived at the after-party, he was nearly vibrating with excitement—on top of everything, he was going on tour tomorrow and he knew he might lose his mind over it—and this was usually the time when he tended to get reckless.

He did drink a little too much to retain a completely sober mind, but he stayed true to his word and did not wander anywhere or caused any—serious—trouble. You would have said that’s because Sid and Jude weren’t with him, but Jungkook was convinced it was because he simply had great self-control when he put his mind to it.

The only place he went to after the party was his family’s house, so he could say goodbye to his grandma. She probably wouldn’t even hear him—and if she would, then she probably wouldn’t recognise him—but he couldn’t leave to Europe without saying goodbye to her.

He thought he’d take his Katana to the house, but then remembered immediately the last time he got on his motorcycle drunk – his grandma had, literally, smacked him on the back with a rolling pin, yelling about how careless he was. She didn’t say that she hit him out of concern for his safety—that was obvious—and, instead, she focused on how hard he’d worked on restoring the bike after he’d bought it; his first purchase with the money that he made off Rated Riot’s music.

“Don’t you want it to last?” she had said then. She’d been the only person who believed he could bring the bike to life, despite it not having a single properly functioning part, least of all the engine. “You worked so hard on it. Do you want to wreck it in one night?”

Tonight, however, everyone in the house was asleep when he arrived. It was quiet, so he tried to be silent as he went up the stairs to her room—and then knocked over a picture frame after his feet fumbled on the carpet in the hallway. But no one went out to check who was making the noise—which was dangerous, he realised for a brief, semi-sober second; but the house had security, so he figured they were safe from outsiders—and he gently lowered the handle on his grandma’s door, peering inside.

The room was painted in blue hues from the night light next to the bed where his grandma was sleeping. He approached—really trying to be quiet this time—and carefully pulled her comforter up, so she wouldn’t get cold, even though the room felt warm.

It was always warm here and Jungkook had to bite his lip when he realised how much he missed sitting here as a child while dozens of his cousins ran around the house and wreaked loud, childish havoc. How much he missed his grandma reading him books—never children’s stories, he always insisted she read him the thickest, most boring books he could find on her shelves, just so he could stay in her room longer, listening to her soothing voice and feeling her comforting warmth.

Sniffling quietly, he leaned closer to her and brushed a strand of white hair from her face, listening to her soft breathing as she slept, unaware of his presence.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised in a whisper as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. She didn’t wake. “We will talk again then.”

He knew he’d keep this promise even if she didn’t hear it, even if she didn’t remember. But leaving her room felt painful and he was far less excited now. The alcohol had begun to wear off and heaviness settled in his chest instead. This happened sometimes when he was left alone with his thoughts, especially after he visited his grandma.

He'd come back, he knew he would. But as he glanced at his grandma’s sleeping frame one more time—remembering how she hadn’t called him by his name in months; not one glint of recognition in her eyes when she’d see him—he wondered if he’d have anyone to come back to.

Surprising exactly no one, Jungkook was the only one who did not answer your wake-up call the next morning. Having foreseen this, you’d already called Hoseok, Yoongi and Taehyung – in that order, because the first two took the longest to wake up, and by that time, Taehyung was already awake on his own – and only then attempted to reach the one remaining member.

Fifteen minutes later, you were already dressed and ready to drive over to his house and personally wake him up with an icy bath in bed. And just then, your phone rang – his name as the caller’s ID.

“Look who—”

“Okay, okay,” Jungkook’s groggy voice cut you off before you could greet him with the appropriate sarcastic remark. “I’m awake. Halfway in the shower.”

“I don’t hear running water.”

He responded with a groan first, then shuffling. You waited patiently, balancing the phone on your shoulder as you unlocked the door of your apartment. Finally, you could hear the water start running on the other end of the call.

“Happy?” Jungkook asked, always the brightest of all rays of sunshine in the morning.

“Ecstatic,” you replied, equally as enthusiastically. “Sending a car to pick you up in half an hour. Don’t be late.”

“I can drive myself—”

“No driving when you’re hungover,” you said, not for the first time. “In fact, don’t even go near your Katana.”

He considered several ways to respond to you; first and foremost, defending his beloved, navy-coloured Suzuki Katana with a matte coating, custom-made leather seat covers, golden rims, purring engine, and—anyway. He ended up choosing to respond with a question, “how do you know I’m hungover?”

“I’ve known you for almost ten years,” you replied. “If you go out drinking the night before, you’ll wake up hungover.”

“Well, how do you know I drank that much last ni—?”

“Listen,” you cut him off, hoisting your suitcases over the threshold of your front door. You fixed your phone against your cheek and continued, “how about you take that shower, and we’ll resume this nice little Q&A at the airport?”

“No,” he replied and, in a purposefully exaggerated breathy voice said, “I simply can’t stop talking to you.”

“Hanging up now.”

Jungkook laughed as he listened to the beep, indicating the end of the call. Putting his phone on the side of the sink, he took his shirt off and was about to continue undressing when his phone vibrated and nearly fell off the sink.

Scrambling to catch it, he smacked it against the cupboard and exhaled in relief when he saw that the screen hadn’t cracked. He was expecting a text from you – a threat, in case he’d go back to bed – but it was actually Sid, asking for the time of his flight.

His friends were taking a separate flight out to Prague – they weren’t happy about it and neither was he, but at least they’d get to hang out in Europe eventually – and, obviously, they wanted to know what time they’d meet up and where.

He double-checked the itinerary you’d emailed him, got confused about the time zone difference and texted Sid back.

“Gonna be there the day before the show,” his text said, “jetlag. Sleep. Maybe beer? Catch u there.”

Sid was, of course, delighted to hear the mention of beer and Jungkook snickered to himself before he resumed undressing for his shower—knowing from experience that you wouldn’t be above shipping him to Prague in the cargo section on the plane if he was late to the airport.

As it turned out, for the first time in his life, Jungkook was so terribly jet-lagged, that he did not feel like doing anything – not even drinking with friends – but sleeping.

He slept through the whole layover in Paris – and, consequently, through Taehyung and Luna’s stories about the 5 minutes they got to spend in front of the Eiffel Tower before rushing back to the airport (never mind that it was about 2 AM) – as well as the flight to Prague.

He only woke up on the bus ride to the hotel when he felt something nudging his lips and opened his eyes to find an open bottle of Coca-Cola in your hands as you held it by his face.

“Did you just—” he started to say, but his voice sounded brittle, more a croak than a voice, really. He cleared his throat and tried again, “did you just wake me up by making me sniff soda?”

“It worked,” you replied, nudging the bottle at him again. “Drink. You need sugar. You didn’t eat anything on the plane here.”

“I had that bagel on the flight to Paris,” he mumbled, but sat up properly and took the bottle from you.

“That was a croissant,” you clarified. It was almost cute to see him barely awake. “And I warned you about flying with a hangover. You did this to yourself.”

“I’m fine,” he replied after taking a big gulp of coke. “Not sure which day it is, but other than that, I’m perfect. Do you have anything for headaches?”

Snickering, you nodded. “Yeah, give me a second.”

You went to fetch your carry-on bag and returned with ibuprofen, which allowed him to go back to sleep until you arrived at the hotel. The other members were also in and out of slumber, but that was their own fault. You and the other girls on this tour, which, really, only meant Luna— Taehyung’s girlfriend—and Maggie—the tour photographer—had planned ahead and taken sleeping pills as soon as the plane took off. Meanwhile, every man on this trip thought too much of himself.

By the time you arrived to the hotel and checked in, it was already lunchtime. If this had been your first time travelling with Rated Riot, you would have been beyond surprised to see what effect food had on them: they looked like they'd just returned from the most refreshing vacation in the Caribbean. Lively conversation and cheerful laughter echoed around the table – no one would have guessed that they’d just spent over 13 hours on airplanes. Their recovery was nearly always miraculous.

And, naturally, since they were feeling better, they wanted to do something as soon as the first rehearsal was over. You had far too many things to do before the show tomorrow, so you couldn’t babysit them – again, an assistant manager would have been life-saving – but you knew you’d still have to keep an eye on them.

Taehyung and Luna went sightseeing, but they were the sort who kept you updated on their adventures through pictures, which you were endlessly grateful for. There was never a reason to worry here; if you were a teacher who had to pretend not to have a favourite student, Taehyung would be the student you were pretending about.

Yoongi and Hoseok, initially, went to a record store together, but then split up – one of them returned to the hotel for a nap, and the other one went café-hopping. Those two were also fine – they usually took some members of the crew with them anyway, so you knew that in the worst-case scenario, you’d still have several people you could call to reach them.

Now Jungkook was going to meet up with Sid and Jude, both of whom had, most unfortunately, successfully landed in Prague. The Diabolical Duo would take him out drinking, you had no doubt about it – and this was where you’d have to step in with another warning. You weren’t the angry mother, dragging her children by their ears, but you felt it necessary to remind Jungkook of what was at stake if he allowed his friends to be their usual, obnoxious selves tonight.

However, you didn’t want to ask, so you had to figure out where to find them yourself. You didn’t even have to use the seven years that you’ve known them to deduce two logical, universal-for-all-assholes things: one, Jungkook’s friends wouldn’t be nearly tired enough not to want to drink. Two, they’d be too jet-lagged to look for their usual hole-in-the-wall spot that sold drinks. Therefore, they’d have to settle for the bar of the hotel.

And when you exited the elevator on the ground floor later that night, your assumption was confirmed – you could hear their laughter from where you were standing in the lobby.

You’d texted Jungkook as you arrived, hoping he’d leave his friends and come see you at the back of the bar for a minute, but unfortunately, Sid and Jude noticed you and waved you over with loud cheers.

Embarrassed as the people in booths around you began to turn to look, you swallowed and walked towards the front where Jungkook and his friends were sitting by the bar.

“Wow, it’s been so long!” Jude exclaimed as you approached. In your opinion, it wasn’t nearly long enough, but you only lifted the corners of your lips and did not comment.

“Jungkook, a moment?” you said instead.

“Let’s get you a drink!” Sid suggested as though you hadn’t spoken and extended a hand, clicking his fingers to get the bartender’s attention. “Hey! Can we get some Margaritas here?”

You cringed watching this, but, again, restrained yourself. They could behave like pricks all they wanted; it wasn’t their reputation that you had to protect. Someone else would, hopefully, teach them a lesson.

“Sure,” Jungkook said to you, sliding off the stool. He seemed sober enough to walk without any sort of waddling or stand without swaying, but you could tell by the relaxation behind his eyes, that he was already tipsy.

His friends patted him on the back and whistled as he followed you to a quieter spot in the back of the bar. He shook his head at them—but had a grin on his face, and for that alone you wanted to punch him.

“Can I count on you to take it easy?” you asked, once the two of you were out of earshot. “Not because you’ll make my job much harder if you don’t, but because you have a rehearsal tomorrow at eight, and that’s hard with the jet lag alone, but add a hangover into the mix, and—”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, but you’ve heard this song many times before. It was one of his top hits. “I’m actually tired, so I might have a few and then go straight to bed.”

“Okay,” you said, choosing to believe him, because that was easier than making him sign a contract, swearing not to wake up in a dumpster. “Can you text me when you’re back in your room? So I know you’re not lost somewhere in Prague with Dumb and Dumber.”

His lip twitched in an almost-smile at the nickname, but he resisted – a loyal friend, even if they didn’t deserve it – and gave you a nod.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll text you. And I won’t get lost.”

“Okay—” you started to say and then squinted your eyes at him, realizing. “I meant don’t go wandering the city streets while drunk.”

He snorted and placed a hand on your left shoulder. Gazing into your eyes, he enunciated very dramatically, “I will not get into trouble. Promise.”

You pursed your lips. “You’d better not.”

“I realise what that would mean, believe it or not,” he said, straightening. “Tomorrow is an important day. I’d never do anything to ruin it.”

“I know,” you said. “I trust you to make smart choices. I don’t trust them.”

You pointed at the twosome by the bar – both of them watching you like you were the entertainment of the night – and Jungkook turned to look. Sid and Jude both immediately waved at him. Jungkook waved back and, when he looked at you again, he was smiling softly.

Clearly, he genuinely enjoyed hanging out with those two. You’d never believe that there was anything about them that was bearable—let alone enjoyable—so Jungkook’s weird attachment to them had to come from some sort of weird destructive force inside of him.

“I’ll keep them in check,” he said and then, possibly prompted by the skeptical frown on your face, he felt the need to explain, “they help me relax. If it weren’t for them, I’d probably be shaking from anxiety all the time. Kind of like you are.”

He winked as he said that last part, grinning at his own wit, but you rolled your eyes in response.

“Goodnight,” you said then. “Don’t forget to text me.”

“Are you going to stay up late waiting for my text?” his tone was humorous and it stopped you from leaving.

“Hopefully not,” you said, ignoring the flirty comment that was obviously meant to rattle your composure. “But it’d do you well to remember that I can make life very difficult for you if you disobey me.”

He lifted his eyebrows at this, but did not lose the grin. “Oh? Will I get punished if I—”

“Goodnight, Jungkook,” you said again—louder—and turned away.

You glanced over your shoulder when you reached the archway leading to the lobby and caught him watching you leave—he was still beaming, but he composed himself and nodded when he caught your eye. You nodded back.

Maybe he really would be fine tonight.

And, truly, Jungkook had meant what he’d said – he couldn’t wait for tomorrow and there was nothing he’d do to ruin that. Not even if the smirking faces of his friends prompted him to laugh as soon as he returned to his seat by the bar.

“What do you want, assholes?” he asked, punching Jude on the shoulder as he walked past his friends. As soon as he sat down, leaving Sid in the middle, he took a big gulp of the beer he’d left waiting; only his third one tonight.

“We don’t want anything,” Jude said, still smirking. “What did she want? Another moral how you’re not being a good boy?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “No—”

“I was always curious,” Sid interrupted. “Was she like that when you dated, too? You know, always in charge?”

Even before you and Jungkook had settled into a steady enough rhythm of working with each other, neither of you spoke to others about your relationship. Not while you were dating, and not after you broke up. So, all your friends—real friends and whoever the hell Sid and Jude were—essentially knew nothing of your relationship.

And there was nothing he’d tell them now.

It’s been four years since you broke up—plenty of time to move on. Not to mention, you were both (trying to be) professionals. There was no point to bring back the past; there never had been.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jungkook teased, managing to keep the banter going without revealing how the question irked something inside him.

“I would. That’s why I asked,” Sid replied, laughing haughtily. A few heads turned his way. Sid sounded very much like an entitled heir—or an elephant high on helium—when he laughed, especially when there was nothing funny going on. “I mean, you never talked about her to us. Was it getting rid of her that made you who you are today?”

Jude snorted, slapping Sid on the back in a half-supportive, half-warning manner. Jungkook knew that the level of your patience for his friends ranged from Sid (no patience) to Jude (case-by-case), to Minjun (bearable)—and he could see why.

“I didn’t get rid of her,” he said, an edge to his voice. “We broke up and moved on. Did you hear from Minjun?”

Sid laughed again—even louder than before; the glasses behind the bar seemed to clatter.

“Look at him, trying to change the topic!” he wheezed, looking at Jude over his shoulder.

“Leave him be, man,” Jude said and nodded at Jungkook. “So many girls around us and this dumbass is still hung up on your ex, huh?”

Jungkook finished his beer and held the liquid behind his cheeks for a second before swallowing. He caught the bartender’s eye and lifted his empty glass, indicating a refill.

“I don’t think I’m the one who’s hung up,” Sid said with a very knowing look in his eye.

Jungkook looked at him and raised his eyebrows—surprised and momentarily distracted from his drink. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you come to her as soon as she calls, like a puppy,” Sid replied. “So, you tell me.”

“I have to come when she calls,” Jungkook defended. “She’s my manager.”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Jude said, slapping Sid on the back of the head this time. “She’s his manager.”

Jungkook suddenly found himself smiling when he realised that you’d probably consider this the reason why Sid acted the way he did sometimes – permanent brain damage from Jude’s incessant slaps.

“Well, then someone,” Sid said, angrily accentuating the word—the anger was clearly directed at Jude, but the pronoun at Jungkook, “has a fucking crush on their manager.”

“I don’t have a crush—”

Sid spoke over him, “I bet you could never get her to go out with you again.”

Jungkook saw the bartender approach to pour him a drink and he heard Jude scoffing, but he could only blink, taken aback by what sounded like an accusation.  “Why—why would I even—why—”

“Oh, see, see?!” Sid screeched, turning to Jude with a triumphant expression. Jude gave him a pitiful look—and looked about ready to give him a black eye, too. “He knows I’m right, it’s why he’s stuttering!”

“Dude,” Jude said slowly. “You are yelling.”

Jungkook cleared his throat, nodding at the bartender as a thank-you and then bringing his refilled glass to his lips. “And I’m not stuttering.”

“You so are, my man,” Sid taunted, patting Jungkook on the shoulder with so much force, the beer nearly spilled from the glass and from his mouth. “Your ass is so whipped, you’re going to be singing at her wedding to some random producer.”

Suddenly hyper-aware that there were several producers on tour with them right now, Jungkook put his drink down and straightened in his seat.

“I’m not fucking singing at weddings,” he said.

“Not yet,” Sid pointed out, grinning. He knew he'd gotten under his skin.

“Okay, come on now,” Jude interjected, leaning back in his seat to be able to see Jungkook. “You promised you’d sing at my wedding.”

“As if anyone would ever marry you,” came Sid’s snide.

“You shut the fuck up,” Jude snarled, but there was no malice behind his bark. “I have more chances of marrying someone than he has of marrying his manager.”

“He—oh, fuck!” Sid was about to argue, but then burst into laughter—so loud and thunderous again, that the bartender was forced to glance over at the security guards by the entrance to the bar. “That’s good! You’re so right!”

“Both of you are fucking idiots,” Jungkook spoke. The edges of his vision were red. “I could get her to go out with me again if I wanted to.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” Sid nodded, wiping invisible tears from his eyes. “Big talk.”

“Jungkook, no offense, my dude,” Jude said, leaning forwards this time. “Let him have this one. Sid may be dumber than box of rocks, but he’s got a point here. Forget about her.”

Another insinuation that had Jungkook throwing his head back in frustration.

“There’s nothing to forget!” he groaned. “What the fuck are you even talking about? I just fucking told you I moved on.”

“So why are you getting all riled up, then?” Sid smirked, more and more satisfied with each curse that he provoked out of him.

Jungkook felt even angrier, because he was getting riled up, but he had a good reason for it. He enjoyed banter as much as the next person, but he did not enjoy mockery at his own expense—especially not the kind that involved you.

He snapped back, “because you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

His friends snickered at this – convinced that his irritation only proved the point they were both making – and Jungkook clenched his jaw, annoyed.

“If anything,” he added sharply as he picked his beer up—as if that could somehow distance him from this conversation, “it’s her who’s still hung up on me.”

That was a cheap, childish defence, and everyone by the bar knew it.

“Yeah, right!” Sid cried out, but resisted from laughing again. “We’ve heard her yell at you more times than we can count. You fucking wish she was still hung up on you.”

“Okay, to be fair, Sid can probably only count to five,” Jude added—Sid finally punched him on the shoulder—as he toyed with the paper umbrella on his fourth cocktail; the Margaritas they’d ordered were long gone. “But he’s right, you know? You’d never get her to go out with you again.”

There was pity in Jude’s voice—as if he felt sorry that Jungkook lived in denial, chasing after you and convincing himself that it was only a matter of time before you’d come back to him.

This made Jungkook’s temper vile, his face red, hot, and angry. He slammed his beer back on the table, forcing some of it to spill. “Yes, I fucking would!”

Sid was hiccupping as he laughed.

“Okay, okay, listen—let’s make a proper bet,” he managed. He picked up a napkin from the bar top, then looked around for something to write on it with—not finding anything, he stood up from his seat and leaned over the bar, grabbing a pen before the bartender could notice. “$1000 says you can’t get her to go on a date with you again.”

He glanced at Jude for approval—Jude shrugged.

“I’d suggest $500,” he said. “We don’t want to rob him blind.”

Jungkook’s face remained stoic, prideful.

“Fine with me. But you have no idea what you’re getting yourselves into,” he bit.

“Oh, that’s right, he’s been awfully cocky about the whole thing, hasn’t he?” Sid spoke, addressing his rhetorical question at the bar. He wrote something on the napkin and then lifted it to show the number “4000” to Jungkook. “How about this: Jude and I each pay you $2000 if you win. But if you lose, you give us your Katana.”

Jungkook lifted his eyebrows, the sudden mention of his bike catching him off-guard. Sid came from old money, he could afford fifteen brand-new motorcycles with the change he found in his suitcase, probably.

“How is that fair?” he asked. “Do you even know how much a Suzuki costs these days? It’s not $4000, I can tell you that much.”

“Why should you care?” Sid asked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You were so confident about winning the bet just a second ago. Scared you’ll lose after all?”

In his defence, Jungkook did hesitate for half a moment. But there was a shit-eating grin on Sid’s mouth that he wanted to wipe off more than anything else, and he downed the rest of his beer in one big gulp—a showcase of his determination.

“Not at all,” he said then. He wasn’t sure if he was lying as he said this, but he had no time to figure that out. He extended his hand at Sid. “Get your money ready.”

Here, he was putting up a front – this wasn’t about the money at all. It was more a thing of pride; they were teasing him, purposefully making fun of him—and he wanted to prove them wrong, regardless if they were actually wrong.

Smirking, Sid shook his hand—cementing the bet between all three of them, as Jude was busy finishing off his cocktail—and was about to say something when Jungkook jumped off his stool.

“Have to go now,” he said, always a show-off with his overly creative comebacks when he was tipsy. “My horoscope predicts a date and a big fortune in my near future. Got to prepare.”

chapter title credits: sleep token, “rain”

special shout-out & thank you to @eleni-cherie who delivered the much-appreciated kicks in the ass, so that i would keep writing. the odds were really against me, so if it weren't for you & our in-depth fanfic discussions, i definitely wouldn't even be writing this note right now, let alone finally starting this story 💜

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[livingformintyoongi]

Get to know the life of the members of Bring On The Night! The pop/rock band of the moment that has a whole generation addicted to their music, lyrics and performers.

| Kim Seokjin: The Bassist

You were Jin's childhood friend, the one who always went to all his bass practices, the one who went to all his mini concerts, the one who tested the songs before he played them live, you were even the first person he ran to tell the news that his band had been dominated to his first award.

The problem with this? You were always just that to Jin, the typical childhood friend he wouldn't give up for anything in the world, but would never see as anything more.

A few months ago Jin started dating yet another girl, a certain Yeji, whom he had met in college.

You were starting to feel how awful it was to be just another friend, and you wanted to give it your last try before giving up forever with Jin and moving on with your life.

| Min Yoongi: The Producer

You had been in a fully sexual relationship with Yoongi for over 5 years. Yes, you went out on the occasional date in secret, but nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that would make the public think you were a couple, or sex partners.

You had never had a problem with this, until little by little you noticed how you started to feel things for him that definitely had nothing to do with your fully sexual relationship, so you did what you did best.

You ran away.

-> Drabble 1 [Request]: How did they meet?

| Jung Hoseok: The Composer

You met Hoseok in a dance class you had during your last years in college. The two of you hit it off perfectly and decided to stay in touch.

You talked to him when he won his first award, he talked to you when he heard you got a permanent contract at your current company. You called him when you found out he had landed a fairly well known girlfriend in the middle, he congratulated you on finding your fiancé.

Now, 2 years after that, you had no idea how to tell him that your husband and his fiancée were fucking in your bed.

| Kim Namjoon: The Drummer

You were Bring On The Night's manager since their debut. You had taken good care of them, always tried to give them a reasonable schedule, always talked to interviewers before interviews, always tried to keep them safe without asking for anything in return. That's exactly what made Namjoon fall at your feet.

From the beginning he always had eyes for you, he always drowned in his feelings thinking about how annoying it might be for you to stay on the job knowing that he had feelings for you.

However, this same attitude not only attracted to him, but to other guys who worked in the same industry. It was this very thing that made Namjoon decide to fight for you, even if it would destroy your working relationship and friendship.

| Park Jimin: The Keyboardist

You were Jimin's girlfriend during his pre-debut era. You would go to support him at practice, bring him food, water, sometimes even a change of clothes. You loved the way he loved his job, but love wasn't always enough to overcome the adversities that made life as a star. That was made clear to you by the Ceo of Bring on the night's discography.

You broke up with him shortly after his debut, you didn't give him any explanation, you simply told him that you didn't want to be with him anymore and you left.

Years later, in the present day, Jimin had become a world star, famous for his talent on the keyboard, and you, for your part, had achieved your goal of becoming a critically acclaimed actress.

What you never thought was that, as you were both on the same level, you would inevitably meet at events such as awards shows, and, to be honest, you didn't think you could ever say no to Jimin again.

| Kim Taehyung: The Guitarist

For the first time in your entire career as an artist you had gotten into a scandal, and one of the worst scandals there could have been. A rapper whose name you didn't even know had told hundreds of gossip channels that the two of you were in a solely sexual relationship.

Now, with no excuse to give because no one would believe you without proof, you and your manager decided to make a completely risky bet; talk to Kim Taehyung, the guitarist of BOTN and ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend. To your surprise, he didn't hesitate to accept.

The deal was clear: neither would have feelings for the other, neither would meddle in the other's relationships, and neither owed the other any explanations.

At first you thought it would be simple, just another performance, just like you did for your music videos.

How wrong you were.

| Jeon Jungkook: The Vocalist

Jungkook considered himself a very tolerant person. He tolerated Jin with his horrible jokes, he tolerated Namjoon breaking his stuff by accident from time to time, he even tolerated Jimin stealing his stuff, but there was one specific point where he would never tolerate any bullshit.

That point was you.

The day he found out the idiot you were dating, he almost broke his phone from how hard he smashed it against the wall. He believed you deserved better, no, he knew you deserved better, no doubt about it, and he was more than willing to show you what would be the minimum point you should accept in a man.

[foxymoxynoona]

Over the Falls Ch. 2: Bomb

Sexy Banner & bar by @borabae-gx

Summary: Jungkook sees a lot of things as a pool tech. It’s…  fine. It pays the bills between mornings on the water and evenings  rocking out with his garage-band. His favorite thing to see on the job has been Grace Birch –older but a hottie, wealthy but nice, and  unfortunately very married. At least until Grace learns what her husband  has been up to behind her back. Now that she’s free, Jungkook finds  himself wondering: what does it take for a guy like him to catch the eye of a woman like that?

Genre: Poolboy Jungkook x Rich Divorcee OC

Tags: Age gap (older woman), socioeconomic gap, Surferboy JK, drummer/guitarist/vocalist JK, Wealthy divorcee OC, househusband

CW: Mature/Explicit,  Infidelity (not between JKxOC), language, alcohol, recreational drugs, lots of explicit sex, ageist/racist/classist remarks down the road, outdoor sex, beach sex

Chapter One | Masterlist | Chapter Three

“You’re pursing your lips!” Taro called back to Jungkook. His attempts to unpurse them failed beneath his glare; he pursed them tighter, then squeezed his eyes shut accidentally while trying to relax his lips. Thinking about it all caused him to drag the rhythm and Yoongi abruptly stopped.

“Fuck off,” Jungkook scowled at Taro. “Who cares what my mouth is doing when I’m not singing?”

“I care, it doesn’t look cool.”

“Well stop looking back at me and you won’t see it. The audience is that way,” Jungkook said, pointing with his stick to the front of the garage where Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok, and Corri chilled with beers on cheap folding chairs. They weren’t paying any attention to the rehearsal, certainly not to anything Jungkook’s face was doing behind the drums. 

“Yeah but–”

“No one cares what his fucking face does,” Soyoon agreed with him. “They care whether he nails that tricky rhythm.”

“Thank you–”

“If he looks like a muppet, so what?”

Jungkook’s grateful grin slid into a scowl. Soyoon smiled. 

Yoongi’s voice sounded equally as deceptively supportive as he suggested, “Maybe more like a tarsier.”

“I was thinking tree frog,” Taehyung called over. 

“You’re all fucking assholes,” Jungkook huffed and did a run on the drums as loud as he could as punishment. They were unfortunately unbothered. As unbothered as they should have been about whatever concentration face he made as he drummed. They had no idea the coordination and focus it required! 

“Don’t listen to them,” Hoseok insisted as soon as the cacophony died down. “You’re handsome no matter what face you make, that’s why they’re being like that. They’re jealous. You look so cool when you drum, you’re stealing the show.”

It was too over the top. Jungkook sighed and let his head hang as his friends got their laughs out. 

“What? What did I say?” Hoseok mumbled as Jimin patted his arm and shushed him. Hoseok was the only one of their group to say something like that and mean it sincerely, but no one could take it seriously. Alas.

“Let’s just take it from the top,” Yoongi said. “Last song of the night and I’m out.”

“Out? Why out? We’re performing this weekend,” Taro instantly argued. Jungkook saw the twitch of Yoongi’s lips, only the faintest sign he ever showed that he was annoyed.

“Yeah, so we had the extra rehearsal.”

“I just want us to do well,” Taro insisted. “This isn’t a normal performance. It’s a competition.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the snicker, “For Aughts Coverbands. It’s not that deep, Taro, you don’t have to be a bitch about my face.”

“Gee, can’t imagine why you can’t get laid lately.”

“The fuck do you know about it? I can get laid whenever I–” Jungkook sputtered. Really? She had to say that right in front of Corri?!

Soyoon sighed noisily, “We all know you want to win, we all know Junky can get laid, can we just do it already?” God he hated that nickname, if anyone besides Soyoon called him that he’d lose his shit, but somehow she’d always been able to use it as a hook to draw him back. He rolled his eyes at her, as expected, and she grinned and thumbed a line on the bass.

“Winning is fun,” Taro huffed. “I thought at least Jungkook would agree with me.”

“You’re talking shit about my face! We aren’t going to lose because of my face!”

“Only when you purse your lips like that.”

“I’m just concentrating.”

“You’re supposed to make it look effortless.”

“You wanna drum?” he asked, standing from the stool and holding the sticks out. She rolled her eyes and looked away. She’d once tried to pick it up and failed miserable, she lacked the coordination and muscle for it. And Jungkook had taken the high road and not teased her (too bad) about it. Her inability to play any instrument didn’t matter; she was a kickass lead vocalist and frontwoman, even though she sucked before any performance she deemed important. Yeah, Jungkook wanted to do well in a competition, obviously, but it wasn’t supposed to be a source of stress. They were a mostly-covers band, not some music act out to change the world. It was just supposed to be fun. Jungkook had managed to calm down the hyper-competitive streak of his younger days and wasn’t interested in getting all wrapped up in it again. 

“I’m just trying to help you get laid,” she mumbled.

“Why are you so worried whether he’s getting laid?” Taehyung asked, just as loudly as before, as if Corri hadn’t already heard all of this. Corri, one of the women uninterested in laying him despite their past lays.

“I’m not. I just think he seems frustrated.”

“Yeah because our vocalist keeps talking shit about my concentration face.”

Yoongi started to play the chorus, a not-so-subtle sign he was bored with the bickering banter. 

“Yeah I’m frustrated but not about… whatever, just play the song,” Jungkook huffed. Corri’s obvious avoidance of looking in his direction suddenly embarrassed him, when he usually could shrug off teasing no problem. He didn’t care that Corri didn’t want to fuck anymore, it wasn’t like they had been a thing, it just was embarrassing for someone you weren’t a thing with to tell you they wanted to be even less of a thing… Suddenly he wondered if Corri and Taro had been talking about him….

Before anyone (Taro) could escalate further, Soyoon scolded, “Elizabeth. Sing the damn song so I’m not late to teaching.”

Taro —real name Elizabeth– scowled in Soyoon’s direction this time and Jungkook settled back onto his stool. He flexed his fingers and cracked his neck to get ready for the final run-through of all three songs they would play at the competition: “Misery Business” by Paramore, “All Around You” by Flyleaf, and “The Real Mothers” by Screaming Females. Jungkook could have done without Flyleaf but Taro had gotten to choose the final song after a cutthroat tournament of rock-paper-scissors. Granted, Jungkook would have preferred to cover at least one male-led song, but he wasn’t going to go there. 

Instead he did his best to keep his face neutral and un-pinched as he played, his best effort to be above reproach. Yoongi was who he cared more about impressing though; Taro was a great vocalist but when it came to musical talent, Yoongi was their lead with Soyoon not far behind. The two of them wrote and composed all their original stuff and did the arrangements for their covers. The two of them could have gone pro, really, but they had their reasons for being in this hobby band, just like Taro did, just like Jungkook did. 

Fun. It was all supposed to be fun. 

Usually he liked rehearsal, but Taro was right about one tiny thing: he was frustrated. But it wasn’t about sex! Or at least not about his sex. It was about a particular video sitting on his phone that he had no fucking clue what to do about. He had hoped to ask Yoongi what he thought but then felt stupid about it as they kicked off rehearsal and there wasn’t any time afterwards. As soon as the set was done, Soyoon and Yoongi both split for their evening gigs. 

Taro’s face went through a tornado of emotions before she finally put her hands on Jungkook’s shoulders and said, “Sorry. Your face is fine. I just want us to look good but I didn’t mean to be a dick about it.”

“Whoever you have coming to the show isn’t going to fuck or not fuck you because of what my face does.”

She growled, “Come on, I apologized. Don’t be a shit.” But it was allowed. That’s how things were between them, had been for the ten years they’d known each other since their first pick up performances as teens, back when she was just Beth and not the artist known as Taro. He grinned and she pinched his cheek and that was the end of it; she and Corri disappeared with only a backward wave.

Jungkook expected to be on his own for the last bit of cleanup but Jimin and Taehyung and Hoseok shuffled around the garage helping with it. They’d done their best to waterproof the garage but after a leak had come a little too close to an amp, Jungkook was too nervous to leave anything of value on the ground ever again. He’d built a shaky wooden platform for his kit, made sure all the cables and amps were on shelves and hooks against the windowless wall, and kept the other instruments inside the house. Yoongi’s garage had been nicer and at the top of a hill but after his neighbors called the cops on them twice, they’d moved to Jungkook’s garage. His neighbors didn’t give a shit; everyone was noisy here. They usually played with the door open anyways because it got hot as fuck in there with only a couple fans and sometimes people would sit out on their porches to listen. Jimin had the great idea of adding an air conditioner but with what fucking money? Someday. Maybe with the prize money if they won the competition! The 2000s were the worst decade of music as far as Jungkook was concerned, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t win…

He felt the stirrings of ambition and squashed it.

“Paramore and Flyleaf,” he mumbled as Jimin and Taehyung sang lyrics over each other while they looped cables. 

“What’s wrong with Paramore?” Hoseok asked. “Besides that you’re too young to remember them.”

“I’m not too young. I remember “Ain’t It Fun,” that album. And I remember these songs! I like them. The drumming is good, and they’re good for Taro’s voice.”

“But… you’d rather be playing something else?”

“I just don’t like the competitions,” he admitted. “I’d rather be doing our usual set for our usual stage. No stress, no worries–”

“Yeah you don’t like it because you’re a sleeping competitive asshole,” Jimin snickered.

Jungkook looked around for anything left down as he demanded, “What does that mean, sleeping?”

“It means you want everything to think you’re chill. Surfer life, ya?” Jimin teased, making two shaka gestures. His mockery was idiotic considering he surfed almost as much as Jungkook did, although he hadn’t gone as much lately. Work. “We’ve known you too long. We know you like to crush the competition.”

“Nah, man, that’s not me anymore.”

Jimin and Taehyung shared a look. Jungkook backhanded Taehyung in the stomach because he was closest, then motioned for them to get out so he could drag the garage door closed. The clicker had been broken for a while and every time one of them tried to fix it, it just broke again. Handymen they were not despite their best efforts, Jungkook in particular. He just didn’t have the knack for it, so he was learning, that was all. Their landlord didn’t have to be such a shitbag about his attempts gone awry. If he’d just call the fucking plumber or contractor or whatever it was on time, Jungkook wouldn’t have to take matters into his own hands! Or worse, Taehyung or Jimin went after it. 

“What are we doing for dinner?” Taehyung asked as they kicked their shoes off by the back door. Jungkook ignored the question, assuming it was intended for Jimin or Hoseok, or at least not him. Briefly looking at his phone with the thought of delivery –followed by the painful reminder of his bank account– nudged his attention back to the video. The video. The one currently living in the Recently Deleted folder on his phone, chilling in limbo for 30 days until he either restored it or let his phone delete it for good. He felt no closer to making a decision on what to do with it. Forget he knew this and let it disappear? Give it to Mrs. Birch because she deserved to know she was married to an epic dipshit? 

“JK?” 

“Yeah episode four, I don’t know.”

“Huh?”

“Are we talking about what to watch?”

“What show are you even talking about?” Jimin laughed at him. “We’re talking about food! Dinner!”

“Oh. Uh…”

Taehyung snickered and nudged him with an elbow as he passed through the door, “He’s thinking about the video.”

“Grossss.”

“I’m not— I’m not thinking about the video,” Jungkook argued. It was a lie; they could tell it was a lie. He didn’t appreciate their joke of making it sound like he was thinking-thinking about it, rather than stressing about it. Stressing wasn’t his style.

“Just delete it, man,” Taehyung said. “You don’t need some guy’s nut on your phone. No offense to the gays in the room.”

“None taken, I don’t want some asshole’s nut on my phone either,” Jimin snickered.

“Yeah but….” 

Jimin, still grinning, countered, “Stop being a puss and just tell the wife what you found. She deserves to know and once she’s done being heartbroken, she’ll appreciate it,” Jimin countered. “Maybe a lot.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Jungkook deeply regretted having drunkenly shared a Mrs. Birch fantasy with Jimin just one time, which Jimin would now never ever forget.

Their “advice” was too much like teasing. It didn’t feel serious and had already put him in a bad mood when they first acted like this when he told them yesterday. Not everything was a joke. He wanted to live like that too, sure! But he had a real moral conflict here and he didn’t appreciate them making it sound like he was getting some kind of sick pleasure –either out of having a fucking porn video of that spaghetti-dick Tim or of hoping to get into Mrs. Birch’s good graces as a hero. He didn’t feel like this was heroic. He felt like a fucking creep to have taken it in the first place. He felt like it was infecting his phone. He felt like he was holding a bomb that was going to blow up a marriage and really hurt a good person. 

Not that he really knew her and whether she was a good person. For all he knew she had Nice White Lady Syndrome for “the Help” and was an entitled privileged bitch elsewhere. She’d married that fucker, after all, so she had to be like into that kind of guy and lifestyle and all that. Maybe she had her side pieces too, for all he knew! And it just wasn’t him! He didn’t want to insert himself into what could be a really sick, fucked up marriage.

“What if the dude comes after me?” he mused. He flopped down on the couch, instantly comforted by the broken-in cushion that nearly swallowed him. “He could get me fired. Sue me. Ruin my life. I dunno.”

“For exposing his cheating?” Taehyung’s face crinkled up. “Then we fuck him up.”

“He’s rich.”

Jimin tapped his chin and pointed out, “Ah, it’s true, it probably wasn’t legal for you to take that video, right?”

“Huh?”

“You filmed a guy having sex in his own house,” Jimin said. “I just mean… having the video is probably a risk. You should either pass it along or get rid of it, but only if you know the wife won’t turn on you. Rich people… you gotta be careful with them.”

“She…” Jungkook started to say she wouldn’t… but he didn’t know. He didn’t actually know her at all. And now Jimin and Taehyung were making him more scared than guilty. He couldn’t get sued. He didn’t have money! He didn’t have time for court. And his family wouldn’t be able to handle the shame. Who would watch Max when Yoojin got called into work without warning? Who would help his dad set up literally any new electronic device or go grocery shopping with his mom so she didn’t have to carry all the bags into the house because Yoojin was busy with Max and his dad worked a lot and Haewon didn’t live at home anymore? His parents needed him more than ever now, he couldn’t go to jail just because he was trying to do something “good” for a woman he didn’t even know! A thing she probably wouldn’t even appreciate!

He turned to Hoseok, hoping for some meaningful insight from him. Hoseok was a few years older and easily the most mature, experienced person in the house right now. Aside from his choice in dating Jimin, he tended to demonstrate good taste and clear judgment. Jimin and Taehyung could be hit or miss on their advice but Hoseok had a knack for people. Jungkook rebelled at their stirring of the pot, making him so nervous. He wasn’t a nervous guy. There had to be an easy, simple solution.

But Hoseok, who hadn’t said a word this whole time, nor when Jungkook first stupidly told these guys about the video two days ago, just read from his phone, “Kalasha is doing a free delivery special to celebrate the new restaurant. Chicken? Egg sandwiches?”

“Yeah, chicken!” Taehyung quickly agreed. Jungkook understood: they were done talking about this, and he sure wasn’t going to be the needy baby demanding more advice that he didn’t even appreciate. He was both relieved and annoyed. This was his mess. He had to figure this out on his own. But he could have used some good advice.

“Egg sandwich,” he said. “Is there one with chicken too? I’m gonna hit the gym later tonight and surf in the morning so I need that protein, yo!” There, Jungkook back to himself, and his friends readily accepted it. 

The crash of the waves against the shore drowned out all else. Early mornings had a cool humidity to them, leaving a cold sweaty feeling on Jungkook’s skin, his hair wild and crunchy from the salt. The warm water lapped his ankles, sand sucking out from beneath his toes as the water swirled and then retreated, only to be overrun by the next impatient wave. It was a beautiful morning to be out, perfect surf conditions, beach not yet overrun by the tourists who would flock here once they’d finished their brunch and mimosas at the nearby resort.

Jungkook shook the wet hair out of his face and closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the breeze off the water. The scent of salt and fish, sharp and pungent, was home to him. He breathed in deeply and tried to let everything else in the world sift from his mind. That was the beauty of surfing, it took all of you, for a brief time you were nothing but a fleck of energy carried by the water. That was what he liked about drumming too. He liked things that consumed him.

Surfing early in the morning had many advantages, when the tide worked out. Nice weather. Quieter beach. Fewer rookies. 

“How’s the break, bro?” Carver asked, coming up behind and slapping him on the shoulder. Jungkook saw Missy trailing further up the beach, board perched on her head. He took his eyes off Hoseok only for a second to answer,

“Yeah, bomb breaks today.” He slapped Carver’s back in return. “You’re late for dawn patrol though, eh?”

Carver rolled his eyes, “Someone couldn’t get out of bed this morning.” He jerked his thumb at Missy. Jungkook’s eyebrows raised but he said nothing, knowing he’d be awkward. Carver and Missy had been dating a year now or something like it, and for at least a year before that Carver had trailed along behind her like a lovesick dickhead while Missy didn’t have the time of day for him. Jungkook had spent many a daybreak catching waves with her but she’d seemed unbothered by any of his attempts at flirting –until suddenly one day she took a liking to Carver and now they stayed up all night fucking so she couldn’t make it to the beach on time. Jungkook hated that he knew that. He was fine that she’d never given him a chance but he was bummed to see less of two people he enjoyed. 

And also that they were just so happy together.

Fuck, he just knew too much about other people’s fuck lives without having one of his own to occupy his thoughts.

He gave a wave to Missy and headed out to the water just as Hoseok slid smoothly onto the beach. He sure didn’t let his bedmate keep him from catching those early breaks under the first streaks of light. His hair spiked and his smile glowed as he took those first heavy steps off the board and then immediately turned around to drag it back into the water a few yards behind Jungkook.

“I’ve only got time for one more,” he called, voice swallowed by the surf but Jungkook still heard and remembered he’d said that earlier, he had an earlier shift as a manager at the resort. It was a really demanding job, and he busted his ass. But he was still here! Unlike Taehyung. Jimin was practically a hodad at this point anyway so it didn’t really matter if he was here since he just distracted Hoseok anyway.

Jungkook walked until he had to glide and paddle. The sun was steadily heating up on his back but the water felt cool by comparison, drenching the thin fabric of his rash guard. He kept his eyes on the horizon where sea birds flitted and landed, and a couple fishing boats in the distance seemed to hover. Greenish fish darted beneath the shadow of his board. A shadow of a cloud passed over but otherwise the sky was clear and would no doubt be scorching later. Work was going to be hot today. He had three pools to clean, and then had promised Yoojin he’d take Max in the evening. She was being cagey as shit about why she needed the sitting, which probably meant she had a date and she knew very well how Jungkook felt about that. Yoojin’s taste in men was as shitty as her cooking. Max was the only good thing her ex had ever done in his life, and he wasn’t even still involved except for an occasional miniscule child-support check.

When he got far enough out, he straddled the board and waited as first one and then a second mushburger made him bob. Too gentle to ride. Sitting in the lull was peaceful though and gave Hoseok time to catch up. Jungkook breathed the breeze and watched his friend sit up several yards away. As the first one out, Jungkook had wave priority, but he knew Hoseok had somewhere to be.

“You want the next one?” he called.

“Nah bro, you’re first!”

“I can wait. I’m floating.”

“No no it’s fine, you first.”

“Eh…” Jungkook sighed as a totally surfable swell raised beneath them. Neither of them took it, just watched as it peeled. “Damn, would’ve been perfect.”

“Take it,” Hoseok insisted. “I can chill.”

Jungkook briefly considered it. Felt his muscles tense as another swell began to rise behind him. But being out here was soothing, and he felt tendrils dragging at his mind again that he wasn’t willing to face once he went back to shore. Out here he was nothing, nobody, just a piece of driftwood on the sea. Back on land, he had a job to do. The Birch pool was on his roster today, and he was no closer to figuring out what to do with the video in his trash folder. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back as the wave once again passed them and broke.

“Bro,” Hoseok called. “You ok?”

“What do I do about that video, man?” Jungkook sighed, shouting to be heard over the distance. “I just don’t know… I gotta face her today and what, know her husband is fucking around and that she probably doesn’t know? But damn I don’t want to be tied up in some rich person bullshit…”

Hoseok shook his head, “Yeah, you can’t get into that shit. Richies will rip you up, they don’t give a shit you were trying to do a good thing.” Of course, Hoseok saw lots of shitty rich people in his resort job. Jungkook had briefly worked there as a cabana boy too. He remembered. Oh boy, did he remember.

“Yeah but…” Jungkook sighed. They were all right. He knew they were right, and his family would give the same advice if he asked –which he wouldn’t, because he would never talk to his family about personal problems like that. They had enough of their own and he was the eldest now so it was his job to help them. 

But he also just had this painful twist in his stomach at the idea of Mrs. Birch being married to that piece of shit. Probably the fucker was going to catch something and give it to her and that’s how she’d fine out. He’d get some other chick pregnant. She’d walk in on it and be traumatized. Maybe she was secretly as shitty as the rest but if she wasn’t, didn’t she deserve to know the kind of man she married? Since apparently she hadn’t already figured it out on her own? But it wasn’t Jungkook’s job to tell her…

“I see that look,” Hoseok laughed, splashing Jungkook to get his attention. “You want to do it. That’s why I don’t like to give you advice. You just do what you’re going to do anyway.”

“The thing is, I would want to know,” Jungkook said.

“You aren’t her. You should be worried about yourself. She doesn’t care about you.”

It hurt to hear. It was true. He didn’t like to hear it but appreciated the honesty.

“I know but… otherwise what, I keep cleaning their pool and keep knowing and don’t say anything? That’s not who I am. I want to be an honest person no matter what.”

“No matter what,” Hoseok laughed. “It’s admirable but sometimes not the best.”

Jungkook let out a noisy sigh. 

And then had an idea.

“What if it’s not me that tells her?” he said, slowly turning his board after it drifted. “What if I just give her the video anonymously? Then she knows but no one knows it’s me.”

Hoseok’s face screwed up, “How would you even do that?”

“Burn a dvd. Leave it in her mailbox?”

“They probably have cameras all over the place. Or they’ll data mine the DVD or whatever…”

But Jungkook was onto something and he knew it. Fine, a USB stick, and he didn’t think it had to be that secure because he hadn’t seen anything that made him think either of the Birchs was that technically smart and they were going to have bigger things to worry about anyway, right? Like divorce. Divorce that would bring that piece of rich-ass shit to his dry, wrinkled knees.

“Nah bro, this will work!” Jungkook beamed. He felt an instant lightness swell within him that had nothing to do with the lift of another wave beneath the board. “Ya, ok, it’s a plan. Let’s get it!”

“Wait, but JK–”

“I’m taking this one!” he called, ignoring Hoseok’s concerns. There was no good path forward but this was the best one. Probably Mrs. Birch would be hurt but at least no one could trace it to him and he wouldn’t have to admit to her he’d been the one to record it and no one could sue him for what pennies he had to his name.

He caught the next wave, leaping to his feet at the lip of it as he drew in a deep, joyful breath. This was the best part. Flying. Adrenaline coursed through his body, just the right amount to make him feel like a beam of sunlight, the rough board beneath his feet the only thing left to ground him as he cut his board across clear water that sprayed in his face. No barrels big enough to pull into this morning but the drop left his heart thumping in his chest and his head spinning. Nothing beat the high of a bitchin’ ride. 

Suddenly the wave closed out, sending Jungkook tumbling into the water. The slap to his chest left him winded but he surfaced only a moment after his board bobbed, tugging his ankle by the leash. He flipped his hair back and lifted his face to the sun as he swiped the salt water from his eyes. Didn’t matter that he’d grubbed it, the ride had been excellent until then. Grubbing it was just part of the game.

With a lighter heart and a clear mind, Jungkook sloshed his way to shore to put his plan into action.

The orange envelope was on the front porch when she got home that day, tucked between the storm door and the wooden door as if the mailman had dropped it off. They often did that, even though Tim had built a big stupid UV box for packages. She couldn’t blame the mailmen for not wanting to open the lid of a heavy-looking mysterious box just to leave her latest pantry tupperware from Amazon or Tim’s Razor of the Month club or whatever, despite the insistent sign. She tried to always be the one to bring the mail in so she wouldn’t have to listen to Tim rail about packages left on the ground. He worried about that kind of thing. He thought he was the kind of person important enough for someone to send Anthrax to in the mail.

She’d grabbed the envelope on her way out to get the mail from the box, and tossed it all onto the kitchen counter since Tim was out of town and not here to gripe at her for even briefly making a mess.

“It’s unfair of me to be so critical towards him,” she scolded herself as she looked in the fridge to see what the personal chef had left her for dinner. Tim had actually been very pleasant lately. He’d finally agreed they ought to redecorate the bedroom (as long as it stayed white and gray), praised the dinner she made on a day the chef didn’t come, greeted her with daiquiris after she’d been swimming and asked her about her day as he untied the strings of her bikini. 

Look, she knew those things shuffled over a low bar when listed out of context. But the context was that he’d been working hard and stressed for a while now. The latest acquisition was so close to signing and he was sweating it but the fact he was making an effort even in the midst of that meant a lot to her. It reassured her that once they were to the other side of this period of work, things were going to even out again. Tim would go back to being a bit less of a cranky asshole. She would go back to feeling less resentful, a little more charitable about the moodswings of her hard-working husband who was doing his best to succeed in a cutthroat industry. He wanted to make a name for himself beyond what his own father had accomplished. She admired that.

While the oven preheated, she flipped through the mail, mostly junk. When she got to the envelope though, she realized it was just addressed to Mrs. Birch, no mailing address, no stamp.

Her first thought was that a friend must have dropped something off for her, only to instantly consider it would be really weird for them to address it to Mrs. Birch. None of her friends called her that. 

A client? But she never gave her personal address to anyone she worked for, there was no need for it anyway, she just had things mailed to the office space she kept.

Maybe she had forgotten something somewhere? Her license would have her name and address on it, but the salutation of Mrs. would be odd because how would the person know she was married? Unless she dropped something and they googled her? Her address was supposed to be unlisted but people had ways of searching public records.

She tore the end of the envelope open and out tumbled a CD in a jewel case. Her brow furrowed. Certainly not something she owned and left somewhere. Nothing was printed on the CD. She checked inside the envelope for any evidence of marketing material and found a folded piece of paper with a printed sentence:

Your husband is not who you think he is. He’s a fucking asshole.

Grace’s blood ran cold. 

Tim’s involved with something bad. That felt like the immediate and obvious thing. Tim worked in business and he was constantly trying to get ahead, always working upstream and feeling behind. It made sense that he might have taken what looked like help in a moment of difficulty and wound up in over his head with something. Or someone. He could be short-sighted, she’d always secretly thought that about him.

“Oh god please don’t let it be something illegal,” she murmured, hand shaking as she turned the CD over in her hand. Just how bad could it be? Extortion? Money-laundering? Murder? No. No, Tim wasn’t capable of murdering someone, what a ridiculous thought.

But dirty business, with the confidence he wouldn’t be caught….?

The fact was that in the moment, at just one sentence prompt from a mysterious source, Grace’s trust in her husband tumbled like a tower of toothpicks. Instead of debating who would be out to malign her husband, Grace fretted whether this CD was safe for her to look at, or if simply by seeing whatever was on here, she might become an accomplice. What if he’d already done things to implicate her? 

Grace was not going to prison for Tim!

Her heart pounded in her chest so painfully she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She set the CD quickly down on the counter and backed away, already contemplating whether she ought to wipe her fingerprints off. But no, no, it would make sense she opened an envelope addressed to herself. It didn’t mean she’d committed any crime–

And this didn’t mean Tim had either! She leaned against the counter and pressed her hand to her forehead.

Fuck, I’m a bad wife.

This was Tim, for fuck’s sake. He could be an asshole, the anonymous sender was right about that, but it didn’t mean he was doing anything illegal or dangerous or immoral. Probably this was some business thing, some colleague of his pissed about a move he’d made and trying to undermine him starting at home. 

…But what if it wasn’t?!

Grace’s family had been in possession of significant money for several generations. Old money. 19th century American money funded by 18th century European money. She’d been raised with warnings and stories, not paranoia but awareness that sometimes the presence of money made people think you were an easy victim. Maybe Tim wasn’t the target here, maybe she was. 

She grabbed her phone and placed a call and after only a few rings heard her father’s deep voice over the line, greeting, “Grace? What’s up, honeybell?”

“Hi Daddy, there’s a thing… it’s making me nervous so I wanted to ask…” She trailed off, realizing immediately how stupid she sounded. She should have pulled her thoughts together before calling.

“What’s the matter now? Something is what?” She could tell he was distracted over the line. Mid-day like this, he was probably out golfing, or at least at a friend’s house for the afternoon. Her dad was a creature of habit, an introvert who’d carved his safe places out over the decades they’d lived in Winnetka, Illinois. His days were predictable. 

“Sorry, Dad, I just got spooked. Someone left a weird envelope at my house with a CD and–”

“Wait, who did what now?” he interrupted. Grace felt the shudder across her shoulders at that tone in her father’s voice, even knowing it wasn’t aimed at her. He’d been casual before but pulled himself into lawyer mode in only an instant.

“I’m just being silly,” she began. That’s what her mother would say. Calling her dad, interrupting his afternoon plans, because someone left a CD on her porch and she was freaked even though she didn’t even know what was on it.

“Someone left something on your porch? What did they leave?”

“I don’t know, a CD and a printed note that says, um…” She grimaced. “It says my husband isn’t who I think he is.”

The line was silent for a moment. Grace’s father had grown to love Tim. He’d be pissed at slander aimed her husband’s direction. He’d be furious about baseless accusations.  

“You know who sent it? You know what’s on it?”

“No,” Grace said. “I called you right away.”

“Is Tim there?”

“He’s out of town.”

“All right, Grace, don’t touch a thing. Call Alan. Don’t do anything until Alan is there.”

Grace nodded as if he could see her and mused, “I don’t know whether I should call Tim. Maybe he has an idea–”

“Do not call Tim,” he interrupted. “Only Alan. Don’t talk to anyone else. He’ll bring a secure computer over to look at what’s on the CD and after that I want you to check into a hotel until this gets figured out. This person knows where you live and that your husband isn’t home–”

“So you think it’s something bad?”

“Well you do, don’t you, sweetheart? Calling me sounding like you’re having a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry, I know I’m probably overreacting–”

“No such thing with our family.”

“But it’s not like Tim is actually a bad man. The CD is probably just… I don’t know. Something stupid. Someone’s just angry at him for something…”

Grace wanted to hear her dad agree that she was overreacting. His serious response escalated her fears. She’d wanted to be talked off the ledge and instead he was calling in a SWAT team and helicopter rescue.  

“Do as I say, Grace. Call Alan now and tell me when he’s there.”

Spooked, Grace did as he said. Within thirty minutes, Alan Theodorakos stood on her doorstep straightening his cuffs and adjusting his hair in the reflection of the one-sided mirror where a window used to be in the door. One of the family’s many lawyers, Alan had worked for Grace’s parents for many years before she moved to California; now, because of proximity, he’d served as Grace’s own legal counsel any time she’d needed it, even if just to oversee her affairs with specialized attorneys such as when she’d married and when they’d bought their house. Her father was a lawyer too, of course, but financial, and he never directly handled family matters himself anyway.

“Where is the CD?” he immediately asked when Grace welcomed him in. 

“I left it on the kitchen counter.” She showed him where the jewel case lay next to the printed note and the torn envelope, her name side up. Alan took a photo of all of it and Grace felt that tremor in her stomach again. If everyone was taking this so seriously, maybe she wasn’t taking it seriously enough!

Alan had with him a laptop, just as her dad had said he would. They made only the most polite small-talk as he set it up and, with gloves, removed the CD from the case and inserted it into the tray. Grace wrapped her arms around herself and paced back and forth, afraid to look, unable to look away. 

“It’s probably nothing,” she said to herself as much as to him. “I’m probably wasting your time, it’s just some disgruntled admin assistant or something…”

Alan didn’t have anything to say to that except, “Nothing is ever a waste of my time.” Because your family pays well, he didn’t need to say. Yes she’d wanted financial independence from her family, but legal counsel was one thing she let them fund, so sue me. Except don’t, please….

“It looks like there’s a video file,” Alan said, opening the CD. The filename was automated, generic. He double-clicked to pull it up and Grace held her breath, bracing herself for something. Perhaps her imagination was running away with her –this was very impractical, yes, when she usually prided herself on being a practical person– but her dad and Alan had her fearing the worst now. Kidnapping, torture, murder. At least a secret meeting discussing some money-laundering scheme that was going to land her in court for weeks defending her oblivious innocence as Tim’s spouse. I’m sorry, your honor, I’m a fool but I’m innocent.

“Let’s see,” Alan said and hit play.

And this was how Grace wound up watching a video of her husband fucking another woman while standing next to her father’s lawyer. 

Grace’s mouth hung open. Somehow she was shocked, even when the deepest part of her brain taunted her for being so surprised. It was recent; she saw the blue flower arrangement on the kitchen counter without even needing a time stamp. She didn’t recognize the woman, but she was young and beautiful and not Grace.

“I can stop the video,” Alan murmured, reaching forward but Grace brushed his hand away. She stared, eyes glued to the screen as her heart shattered. Or her mind. Something inside of her shattered.

Every criticism, every fight, every distracted dinner and missed date and complete lack of concern for anything she cared about flew in her face now. She’d loved Tim to distraction, even when he was unfair, even when he was unkind, even when he’d been a nobody before. And now he was doing this behind her back, as if she was nothing to him! In their own home! On her own fucking kitchen counter?! 

She wanted to scream. She wanted to sob. But her upbringing trained her better than that. She turned a tight-lipped grimace to Alan and said,

“It turns out this is a private affair.” Affair. Terrible choice of words.

“Indeed,” Alan nodded. “I can provide legal counsel however you’d like to proceed.”

“For now I just need discretion…” How would she like to proceed…. Grace couldn’t fucking answer that! She still was having a hard time processing that Tim was fucking around on her. Tim! Tim, who was so focused on work and deals and dollar signs that he barely had time for her anymore, much less…. Except apparently he did!

“What would you like me to say to your father?” Alan prodded. 

Grace grimaced. There was no good answer. Her father paid Alan’s bills but he was here as her legal counsel. But if Alan gave her father a non-answer, he’d be calling her up for direct answers within minutes.

“I’ll call him,” she said, just to buy herself time. What was she going to say? It’s a private matter between Tim and I. Might as well put up a sign on the front lawn that her husband was cheating on her. And to admit that to her family! She couldn’t. There were exactly zero divorces in her family. If there had ever been infidelity, she sure didn’t know about it. A marriage was for life, and it was her job to make this marriage worked, even in the face of infidelity, especially after she’d defended this relationship so hard in the face of her family’s early concerns. God, they were going to think she was worse than an idiot!

“Very well.” Alan packed the CD back into the jewel case to leave with her, took his laptop, and bid her good day. With another offer to provide whatever help she needed, he was gone.

Grace stood alone in her kitchen and tried to make sense of this. Tim cheating. Someone filming it from within her property. Someone sending it for her to find. Some explanation she needed to give her father. A very painful conversation she needed to have with Tim without any understanding yet of what she wanted to have happen. Did she want him to grovel and apologize? Did she want the shame of being divorced and cheated on? What would her family say if she left? What would her family say if she stayed?

Grace sank down to the mat in front of the sink and tried to cry but she just felt numb. This couldn’t be real. She’d so carefully managed her life up until now. She had thought Tim was right there in the seat next to her. What was happening?!

In a brief moment of gumption, Grace called her dad and, before he could say a word, blurted out, “It turns out it’s a private matter between Tim and I. I’d rather not talk about it yet. Please don’t tell anyone else yet.” It was an impossible thing to ask, but she decided she’d try. 

A pause had her heart in her throat. She felt like so much hung in the balance: would her father defend her dignity or her marriage?

“Why don’t you and Tim come for a visit? I’d like to spend an afternoon golfing with him, man to man.”

Her marriage.

Grace said a quick goodbye before any pained sobs could escape, let her face drop to her bent knees, and tried to squeeze the tears back in. Like everything else in her life, it seemed, she failed.

The days were long this week in a way Jungkook didn’t like, but he’d picked up the extra lifeguarding hours because he needed the money. Haewon needed textbooks and that shit was expensive so he’d told her to ask him instead of their parents and then demanded to know why she wanted to be a lawyer so bad anyway. Political Science. Boring as fuck, he couldn’t believe how much money they were paying for her to be a leech. She always screeched at him when he teased her about it. He just wanted to keep her humble, that’s why he teased.

It had been hot as balls on the beach that morning and he’d been stuck near the wharf which sucked swamp ass because you had to actually do stuff: namely, chase people away when they swam too close to the pillars. Which everyone wanted to do, because there was shade, and just blowing your whistle wasn’t enough because suddenly people “couldn’t hear you” and “didn’t know the whistle meant they were doing something wrong.” So you had to drag your ass all the way over to yell at them, and then by the time you got back up to your chair, some other fucker was doing the same thing. Didn’t they look at the surf and the giant immovable objects and realize how easily the ocean could bash their puny brains out?! But if there was anything Jungkook had learned about tourists and teenagers both, it was that they had poor respect for the ocean. You had to respect the ocean. She was older and more powerful than you. Unconcerned with whether you lived or died. Sexy of her but annoying for lifeguards. 

He only had two pool cleans on his schedule today, which meant an easier afternoon before band practice tonight, so he should still have energy to fight with Taro about how they shouldn’t add more 00s rock to their regular set just because they’d managed to come in second place in that competition. The first pool was an easy job, and the second was the one he both looked forward to and dreaded the most: The Birches. 

This time last week, he’d chickened out dropping the envelope off, only to go back and do it later that day when the guilt ate at him. Now he wished he’d waited until the end of the season in two weeks so he wouldn’t have to see them again for a while; while most people kept their heated pools running year-round here, the Birches closed theirs at the end of summer so he was almost free of them. He’d never understood why. It was heated and this was southern Cali. He’d be swimming in that baby 365 days a year. 

But he’d dropped the envelope and sprinted away and today would be the first opportunity to see if the bomb he dropped had done any damage. It gave him a nervous twitch, because what if he’d done the wrong thing? What if they knew it was him? 

What if he was going to get arrested as soon as he showed up?!

Still he went, because he wasn’t someone to turn away from an unpleasant task, no matter how scary. And he needed to get paid. Maybe nobody would be there again, like last week…

The garage was closed but he glimpsed three cars through the windows after he’d parked in the driveway –Mr. Birch hated that. Well Jungkook hated douchebags who cheated on their wives. And walking further to get to the pool than he had to after lifeguarding all morning. 

The missing car was Mr. Birch’s. Jungkook felt his skin tingle but ignored it, uninterested in nerves. Instead he prepared himself to knock on the back door, per usual, so Mrs. Birch would know he was here and unfortunately not accidentally walk out in revealing clothing–

Except Mrs. Birch was in the pool. In the pool. Jungkook froze like a bank burglar just inside the pool gate as her faked-blonde head surfaced from the water. Her eyes remained closed as she pushed her hair back, water droplets spraying as she panted for breath, emphasizing her collarbones and long neck. 

Fuck. Fuck! Red alert! 

Jungkook just stared as she grabbed the edge of the pool to hold herself steady as she swiped the water from her face. She looked tired, out of breath, like she’d been swimming hard for a while, not just lounging around for a dip.

Is she the swimmer then? Jungkook didn’t find it surprising at all to learn this about her but it made him happy, like this somehow confirmed she was the good person he’d always thought she was. Of course she was the swimmer. They both loved the water. And damn did she look good doing it, even just bobbing there as she pushed her hair back from her shoulders. 

White bathing suit.

Jesus Christ, Jungkook was going to hit the deck. His brain attempted to save him without thinking through the consequences: he cleared his throat. It was rude. It was out of line. It wasn’t at all what he’d meant to do but someone had pulled the fire alarm in his head and that was the result. 

Mrs. Birch spun quickly to face him, clearly started, and gasped, “Oh! Shit!”

The fantasy that hadn’t even begun to spin yet –that she had done this on purpose for him– died in its cradle. 

“I’m so sorry, is it– are you early?” she asked. Her bare face looked at him with such surprise and alarm that he actually felt too bad to ogle her the way he wanted to. 

“Ah, um… I don’t… think so,” he mumbled. Actually he was later than usual but he didn’t want to argue with her. “I can come back later?” He couldn’t, it was already late afternoon. Well, he could. He would! If she wanted him to.

“No no, I’m sorry, let me get out of your way.” 

He watched with a semi he’d deny to his grave as she gracefully swam to the ladder and pulled herself up like a fucking centerfold. It was a one piece, he realized with no disappointment because the cutouts at the side showed smooth waist and water streamed down her bare shoulderblades and exposed back– but fuck he couldn’t tell if the tattoo was there or not, the bottom rose too high over her ass. She almost caught him staring when she turned to wrap the towel she’d set on the lounge chair, except his brain had leapt immediately to nipple patrol–

Fuck! He didn’t get a good look as his brain caught up with his stare and he immediately averted his eyes, leaving her to cover herself with the towel not under his blown-out gaze. Shit! He was around hot chicks in bathings suits all the time! Why now did his brain decide to run away….

“I completely lost track of time. Um…” She paused and then gestured to the pool with one hand as if to tell him to carry on, then fled into the house.

Jungkook just stood there for a moment. He’d never seen Mrs. Birch –or anyone for that matter– in the pool before, though legend said they used it, at least for parties sometimes. He felt a sense of pride now to know she really did, and that she looked so damn good in it. He sauntered to the edge to survey his work and felt his satisfaction grow further at the confirmation that he kept this pool in good shape. It looked great right now. He wouldn’t have to do much today, clean the filters, maybe nothing else. Now he felt bad to have chased her off. He could have done that while she kept swimming. He wouldn’t mind. 

Damn. He was going to be thinking about this for a long time.

White bathing suit, huh? 

He grabbed the outdoor trash and some gloves to get to work on the filters, in the hopes he could wrap it up quickly and she could slide right back in. But just as he was finishing up, she reappeared from the house in loose lounge clothes with her hair piled up on top of her head and a bamboo tray with his drink and snacks in her hands.

“You didn’t have to,” he called to her, “I won’t be long today. Pool looks good. Are you using it a lot lately?”

Her head tilted as she set the tray down and asked, “Yes, I’ve been out here every day lately. You can tell?”

It was mostly a lie as he shrugged, “If you’re swimming a lot, the motion sends the detritus into the filters. If no one’s swimming, it sits on top.” Detritus. Haewon had used that word a couple weeks ago and he’d latched onto it because it sounded more professional than shit.

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“Yeah?”

She glanced at the pool and he got the feeling something was bothering her. Which made sense, considering the whole bomb on her doorstep thing, now that his head had cleared enough to remember that. For a moment he thought she knew it was him and was going to ask him about it. Of course she’d figure it out, she seemed smart, or he’d missed something obvious in covering his tracks…

“Well I won’t bother you while you finish.”

“You’re not a bother,” he assured her. Her smile was small and didn’t reach her eyes as she turned to go. He reached for the drink out of obligation, because really he didn’t have anything more to do but he couldn’t just leave the things she’d brought for him sitting there. It felt unappreciative. Also it was free.

She must be hot in the long-sleeved lounge top, although the fabric was thin. The shorts rode high, showing off her thighs as she headed back towards the house. He realized she could see his reflection in the windows and squinted to look out over the pool as if he was lost in thought when she suddenly stopped walking, hand on the door. 

When she turned, arms sliding across to sort of hold herself, Jungkook felt that nervous flutter. Oh no. Busted staring at her ass. Caught. He felt like a kid again, he’d fucked up and it was time to get in trouble. He gave into the urgent need to have his hands full, so he popped open the bag of chips and shoveled a handful into his mouth as she came back.

“Hey,” she said, voice softer and less certain than he’d ever heard her before. Her whole body seemed to curl in on itself miserably, a far cry from the way she’d pushed up from the pool half an hour ago. “I just wanted to ask you– when you were here last time, did you happen to see anyone drop off something? On my front porch?”

His eyes went wide. He chomped down, accidentally getting his cheek too, and cursed as he pressed his finger to the outside of it. She just watched him and he realized with a burst of paranoia how fucking guilty he looked. He sucked at lying. He was terrible at lying, especially when he really was guilty as shit!

“Oh, um…” he fumbled, swallowing the Cheetos down and licking the residue off his finger. He licked his lips nervously, feeling like there was orange powder there too. “From back here? What package?” Playing stupid was better than outright lying, even if saying he’d seen someone else do it would probably do a better job of getting him out of the hot seat. 

She shifted her weight and chewed on the inside of her cheek, exactly where he’d just accidentally bitten on his own, and this similarity sent another wave of guilt rolling over him. He was lying to her. Fuck. Was he any better than Mr. Birch?! Shitothy Smirch? Eh, not his best work for taunting names….

“Ok, if you didn’t see anything… I just thought…” A cascade of emotions crossed her face, so raw and unpoised compared to the normally polite and neutral look she had with him, that Jungkook felt himself chipping further apart. She looked miserable, her face even redder than it had been just getting out of the pool. “Someone left an orange envelope for me,” she said. Fuck, were her eyes watering?!!? “I don’t know who but I’m trying to find out who so I can talk to them about it before–”

“It was me,” he blurted out as he suddenly realized how fucking scary this must be for her. “I left the envelope and I’m really sorry–”

He cut off as Mrs. Birch started to cry. Not quite burst into tears the way he might have expected, but she drew in a shaky breath and the tears he’d suspected managed to sneak out and she pressed her hands to her face.

The impulse to reach for her was hard to deny but he did. Obviously he couldn’t touch this woman he barely knew and whose marriage he’d just exposed as a sham. Plus he had Cheeto dust on his fingers and her clothes were light colored. He’d done enough already! It would be wrong! But it was hard to watch her upset and not comfort her.

“I’m sorry,” he said again in desperation. “I swear I’m not trying be a dick or anything, I just thought you should know.”

He saw her draw air in like strength and push her hands back through her hair, fortifying herself, before demanding with a strong expression that didn’t match the tears on her cheek, “So you filmed it and left an anonymous package on my porch?”

He pulled back, defenses instantly activated. Fuck. Had he misjudged? Had she already known? Did she not care? Fuck! All his friends had told him not to get involved but he’d wanted to be this hero and now he’d really fucked himself.

“I, uh, I thought you should know,” he stammered again. “But maybe you wouldn’t want anyone else to know? I wasn’t going to blackmail him or anything. It’s private for you so I didn’t want to blow up your spot–”

“But obviously someone knew, the person who took the video! And I didn’t know who it was until I watched the security footage and then I thought it was you but–”

“Ah I thought I had my hat on low enough…” he mumbled.

She gave him a baffled look and pointed out, “You still look and walk like yourself– but I didn’t know if I was wrong or who was filming from inside my backyard and it was just really scary…” She trailed off and suddenly sat down on the lounge chair, threatening to upend the bamboo tray. She covered her face again. She took another of those deep bracing breaths.

“Shit, I’m really sorry scared you,” he said, sinking onto the second one to face her.  “I just felt bad about it.”

“Why?! You weren’t fucking someone else in our–” She broke herself off and that spark of rage tossed him around another loop. He didn’t know her, he didn’t know her emotional processes, he didn’t know how she was handling this thing he’d opened her eyes too, and yet he felt unavoidably anchored here with her in this moment. How would he handle this in her shoes? He sure didn’t know, but he thought he’d do an even worse job of holding himself together.

“Yeah but I didn’t mean to scare you. I just thought you should know your husband is a fucking piece of shit.” The words rolled out without any hesitation because he was.

But it brought Mrs. Birch up short. She looked shocked, as if she somehow hadn’t realized what the video showed, and for a moment he forgot she had just referenced it and worried she hadn’t actually watched and he’d just done exactly what he had hoped to avoid: verbally give her this news. Instead she blinked slowly at him. 

He meant to say sorry if that was too blunt but what actually came out was, “You deserve better than that.” He wasn’t actually sorry about that.

“Like you?”

“Wait, what?!” he cried, and jumped to his feet and stepped back so quickly he tripped on the lounger and fell onto his ass, tangled up in his own sandals. “No! I– what? I don’t have anything to do with this! I just–”

“I’m sorry,” she gasped this time, and covered her face again. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I just…”

He’d scraped his palm in the fall; she didn’t seem to have even noticed that he did something so fucking clownish. Everything was all fucked up right now, she was all fucked up he understood now. That’s why she seemed all over the place.  

“Hey, it’s ok, it’s ok. Look, I swear I don’t have any shitty motives.” He eased back onto the lounger, ignoring the burn of his hand. “I didn’t want to get involved with your personal business. I just couldn’t believe he’d do that to you and I didn’t think you’d believe me if I just told you so I… but yeah, you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Her voice was barely a whisper as she lowered her hands, eyes on her knees, “I would have believed you.”

“Damn.” He stopped himself from saying more. But damn that was a bad marriage if you’d believe your poolguy that your husband was banging someone else without even providing proof. She must have already known then that she’d married an asshole. That made him both very happy (Mrs. Birch is not like him!) and very sad for her (Mrs. Birch is married to someone who doesn’t deserve her!)

Watching her struggle to compose herself was distressing. He wished she would just cry it out hard. She’d feel better and he’d feel better too. Instead it was like watching her hurt herself further trying to keep the tears locked in when they so obviously wanted to come out. 

“Who else did you show that video to?” she asked, gaze lifting to meet his. Her words sounded fiercer than her face looked, though her expression was still sort of scary. Sharp. “Or tell about… this?”

“No one,” he said, hoping a quick response would hide that it wasn’t entirely true. “Who would I tell? Why? I don’t even like knowing about it and I don’t know anyone who knows you–”

“You didn’t like upload it to the internet or– Reddit or something–”

“Fuck, no.” The goodwill he’d felt after she had said she’d have believed him evaporated and he felt as scummy as her cheating husband. “I don’t post that kind of shit anyway but even– I would never do that to you. Why would I do that–”

“I don’t know, for money, for clout, for revenge because Tim has been rude to you–”

Jungkook pushed to his feet as the heat rose in his cheeks, tingling up his neck. Apparently she’d believe him that her husband was cheating but not his own promise that he wasn’t blackmailing anyone. That she thought so lowly of him was the bullet through every last fantasy he’d harbored. No one had ever thought so badly of him as Mrs. Birch apparently did. Except maybe Mr. Birch.

“I said I wasn’t blackmailing,” Jungkook grumbled and turned to go because there was nothing else to say here.

Her hand suddenly on his arm stopped him dead in his tracks; she had leapt up and caught him quickly.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you, it’s just… you wouldn’t be the first person who realized they could use something like this against my family.”

“Your family?” He made a face, ignoring the hiccup in his chest at her fingers curled against his arm. Just as quickly she let go. “I don’t know anything about your family and I don’t care. I just wanted to let you know in case you didn’t, that’s it.”

It was like she hadn’t heard a word he said and continued, “And just think about it from my perspective. This is a private matter that I want to handle privately.”

“Well I’m not telling anyone,” he huffed, frustrated by the ongoing accusations.

“Do you still have the video? Will you delete it in front of me?”

“I already deleted it,” he said, but still fished out his phone. “You think I wanted that on my phone? It’s in my trash.”

“Yeah but will you permanently delete it? Please? I’m sorry I insulted you, I’m just… stressed right now.”

He paused, phone unlocked, showing a picture of the beach behind his apps. It softened the edge of her accusation to be reminded that the inciting incident of all of this was learning that her husband was cheating on her and the pool tech knew. That sucked. From her perspective, if he was in her shoes, he’d be hurt and distrustful too. She was just upset. 

“I get it,” he told her. “No problem, you can watch me permanently delete it.” He opened up the ‘Recently Deleted’ folder on his phone as she leaned in to look, only for his stomach to cramp as he discovered just how many deleted selfies filled the rows ahead of the video. No dick pics thank fuck but still, it was embarrassing for her to see three rows of him posing in the bathroom without a shirt –he’d been trying to get a good one for his dating profile, ok?--, and he tried to cover them subtly with his fingers as he quickly tapped the video and then ‘Permanently Delete’ before it could begin to play. Too late did he realize how close she was standing, and that she smelled like something fresh and clean and mildly floral, and that her loose top had slid down her shoulder.

She pulled away and crossed her arms and nodded as she said, “Thank you.” She must have seen the photos but didn’t give any sign of it.

“Yeah, no problem.”

“I mean for telling me, too. I know it’s… awkward. It’s easier to mind your own business when it’s something uncomfortable but I’m glad that I know now. So thank you for telling me but now please forget that you know.”

“Yeah of course, I don’t know anything. I hope you get to keep your house in the divorce and I’ll keep the pool looking great.” He meant it as a joke, kind of. He was serious about it, but he hoped the tone shift could free them both from this moment that was even beyond awkward. Sustained emotionality wore him out. Guarding the wharf was easier than this for sure.

“I don’t know what I’m doing yet,” she said with utmost seriousness, with a shake of her head as if the idea was an annoying fly buzzing in her ear.

“Uh… what? How can you not know? The guy’s cheating on you, so leave his ass and wring him dry in the divorce,” he scoffed. As if he knew all about it! But it was just such an obvious next step, he couldn’t fathom she would do anything else. Good riddance to the fuckwad!

The effect on her was immediate: her hands dropped and she leaned away and got this scowl on her face that would have been sexy as hell if she hadn’t been almost defending that guy.

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple.”

“It’s not. Marriage is complicated, especially one like ours, it’s not always easy and–”

“Well he pissed on that marriage when he started fucking other people, didn’t he?”

“How dare you?” The sexiness evaporated from her glare as it hardened, as his own words caught up to him.

“Fuck, sorry, I know it’s not my business–” He held his hands up, choosing to apologize even though in his gut he wanted to say more. See? He was bad at this! He really just wanted to comfort her and instead he was fucking it up because he just couldn’t stand to hear her insist there was anything salvageable about that wad of snot.

“You’re right, it’s not. Thank you for telling me about what’s going on but that’s where your judgment ends. You don’t know anything about us or our life or–”

“You’re right, I don’t. I do know he’s a piece of shit though and that you deserve better.”

“And how many times have you been married, since you’re such an expert on marital conflict–”

“Zero times,” he answered. “But when I do get married, I sure won’t treat my wife the way that asshole treats you. You’ve been apologizing for his shit since I started cleaning your pool and I may be just the pool guy but I see all kinds of people and I know a piece of shit when I see one. Whatever you think is worth staying married to him for, you’re wrong. That’s all I know. So whatever, you can report me to my boss and I can have someone else come clean your pool now or whatever but yeah, you’re better off without him.”

“Well thank you for not leaving that sage wisdom in a cryptic package on my doorstep this time,” she snapped. 

Jungkook knew he’d gone too far. He’d stepped completely into their bullshit. He couldn’t help it! He was typically slow to erupt but good luck once he got going, and he was going now, because this was the 21st century and a woman didn’t need to stay with a fucker like that for anything! And to stand there and have her possibly saying thanks for telling me but I’m going to stay with him, I don’t mind him treating me like gum on his shoe– how was he supposed to silently endorse that! 

He was too worked up to think of anything to say back so he just said, “Yeah, you’re welcome. You deserve better.” It was a stupid thing to sound so angry saying. He’d think of something better int he shower later. 

“Why, because I give you snacks while you clean our pool? You don’t know anything about me or what kind of person I am, JK. Maybe I did deserve this.”

“No way.”

“But you don’t know!”

If he hadn’t already known it in his gut, he knew it was true now, as the anger on her face wavered and he saw, just for one brief moment, raw grief. For one moment she had that look that in the movies makes a guy take up his sword and march off to war or whatever. She looked like a vulnerable, hurting person, not some rich caricature of a human, and that was exactly why he had stepped into this so far and couldn’t even regret it even if he knew he was making an ass of himself.

Just as quickly it was mostly gone, all except a soft, downward turn of her mouth. She had color on her lips which struck Jungkook as a little strange to have put on after the pool but he supposed Mrs. Birch wanted to always be put together. It was not a helpful train of thought –I could undo her combined with but she’s so sad right now and trying to hide it, isn’t she?-- and he looked away. He didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t used to this kind of dramatic exchange. He didn’t have stamina for it. Usually if he was fighting with a woman he just let her say her peace and then she left and that was the end, there were only a few times he really got into it.

But telling Mrs. Birch she ought to divorce her husband was worth it.

“I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore,” she admitted with a deep, tired sigh. “I need to go. Thank you for bringing all of this to my attention, but please, forget everything.”

“You got it, boss,” he mumbled. It was awkward. He felt deflated now.

She wasn’t going to leave her husband. That’s what he’d just learned. And the idea that a good woman would stay with a shitty man just flooded him with despair. Romance was dead, marriage was a sham, and there was no justice. His dad had divorced his mom and there were even kids involved, so what did Mrs. Birch think made it so impossible for her? But he didn’t feel like saying that to her now. He felt like he’d just burned what minor threads had connected them, and maybe it had been necessary in order for her to know about her husband, but selfishly he wondered now if it had been worth it. If she wasn’t even going to leave him, maybe she wished Jungkook had just kept his mouth shut. Maybe he should have.

“JK, I…”

He’d never know what she was going to say because after a grimace rolled across her face, she turned and went inside. Leaving him to finish the job he was paid to do, cleaning the fucking pool.

Chapter One | Masterlist | Chapter Three

[rainbowsuitcase]

Fanfic Rec Friday #1

Linked are the fics and the authors' tumblr or other social media accounts

Coffee Stained Rings by femissamelie - Yoongi x Namjoon, 17 505 words, E - Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Sex

Professor Yoongi is broken up with on Valentine's Day and his waiter Namjoon decides to swoop in.

NamGi Forgotten Fest - bringing back old Namgi prompts that were never made into fics

I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it by @seethegoodinyou - Namjoon X Jungkook, 6 244 words, E - Dom/Sub, Daddy Kink, Overstimulation

Jungkook is a brat and Namjoon knows just the punishment.

BTS Got Kinks? Fest - a spicy mix between a fic fest and a bingo challenge

As if this is the beginning by cloudyvhope - OT7, 13 090 words, T - Band AU, Strangers to Lovers, Jungkook focused

Jungkook responds to an ad of a band looking for a drummer. It's a prank, but everything works out anyway.

Weird. by littlemeowmeow_7 - Yoongi x Taehyung, 2 222 words, G - Rapper x Fan, First Meeting

Taehyung is Yoongi's biggest fan, but when he's presented with a unique opportunity to meet him, the rapper isn't who he was expecting.

high blood drumming by viviviolets - Seokjin x Jimin x Jungkook, 33 073 words, E - Rock Band AU, Enemies to Lovers, Vampire Seokjin, Blood Drinking

Maknae Line's band gets invited to perform at a supernatural bar, where they catch the attention of vampire Seokjin, but not everything is as easy as it seems.

Battle of the Bands 2022 - fest for Band AUs and other music themed fics

To Hurt and To Heal by rinnieluv - Jimin x Jungkook, 40 587 words, E - A/B/O, Implied Mpreg (Jimin has a son), Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse

Omega Jimin is running away from his pack with his son, when he stumbles upon alpha Jungkook's cabin and finds a safe space.

BONUS - Yoongi x Hoseok Twitter AU - 141 parts, Angst and Fluff, Rapper X Youtuber, Secret Relationship

I read a lot more fest fics this week, but I'm trying for a variety here, so I figured I'd save those for later.

What do you think about the formating? Any complaints? Should I keep up the one bonus Twitter AU or no?

[ace-angel-judas]

What do the DPR kids end up being when they grow up?

Ciri becomes a model and actress, she starts off in Korea and gets really popular and ends up as ambassador for a lot of brands. She never gets married or has any kids.

Jaime becomes a teacher, a primary school teacher. She and Ciri lived together during college, she ends up with Kion and they have five kids.

Kion starts a rock/metal band in high school with Nyx (TK and Cleo’s son), Lilo and MJ (Vernon and Hazel’s son.) He ends up with Kion and they have five kids.

Lilo becomes the drummer in Kion’s band, she’s a lesbian. She ends up meeting a girl on tour and they adopt a son together.

Camilla becomes a doctor, she’s the busiest of all the Dalica kids. She studied medicine and goes to different places in the world to help people.

Kairo (Melian’s youngest son) becomes an artist. He’s designs a lot of Kion’s album covers for the band and ends up with Hope (Hoseok and Kyra’s daughter.) They have three kids together.

[mccnlightjelly]

*ੈ  ♡ ‧₊˚ secondary muses

atlas yung - actor & socialite - early to mid 30's - portrayed by kim seokjin OR cha eunwoo

benjamin 'ben' forrest - farmer, penelope's older brother - mid to late 30's - portrayed by glen powell

chan-yeol 'chan' kim - drummer for SINNERS & socialite - late 20's to early 30's - portrayed by min yoongi (suga)

ethan cabot - law student & socialite - late 20's to early 30's - portrayed by kim namjoon OR jeong yunho

jae sun - music producer & socialite, leon's older brother - late 20's to early 30's - portrayed by jung hoseok (j-hope)

jasper han - songwriter & guitarist for SINNERS - early to mid 20's - portrayed by huening kai

leon sun - ballet dancer & socialite, jae's little brother - early to mid 20's - portrayed by na jaemin

mattheo 'theo' choi - navy seal/seal team six operative & ivy's older brother - early to mid 30's - portrayed by jung jinyoung

ahn sora - streamer & content creator - early to mid 20's - portrayed by yoo jimin (karina)

beatrix 'trixie' kim - uni student & bartender - early to mid 20's - portrayed by huh yunjin

choi aera - trust fund baby & webtoon creator - mid to late 20's - portrayed by jeon so-nee

cordelia 'delia' cho - pre-med student - early to mid 20's - portrayed by kim min-jeong (winter)

daniela 'dani' solares - uni student & waitress - early to mid 20's - portrayed by maia reficco

hope choi - uni student & boba shop barista - early to mid 20's - portrayed by kim minji

ivy choi - nurse & mattheo's younger sister - mid to late 20's - portrayed by bae suzy

lola montcroix - music student & piano prodigy - early to late 20's - hannah dodd

penelope 'pen' forrest - freelance artist, ben's little sister - late 20's to early 30's - portrayed by anya taylor joy

tiffany 'tifa' bae - broadway actress & vocal trainer - mid 20's to early 30's - portrayed by cho miyeon

valentina 'val' flores - uni student & bookstore clerk - early 20's - portrayed by jenna ortega

[missduplicities]

Chapter 59: Family Meeting (pt. 2)

Eunha was the last of her roommates to leave the house that morning. She had a virtual meeting, which gave her enough time to prepare something to eat for her and her brother, who was still asleep upstairs. After her meeting, Yoongi asked her to call him so they could schedule their weekly agenda with Han. Finally, about an hour later, Seong Dae-Hyun came downstairs to inspect the kitchen for something to eat. Eunha didn’t notice, being too focused on the screen in her videoconference with her team to realize her brother was pacing around wearing her own bathrobe, which suited him very tight.

            “Hm, Ms. Seong?” Han interrupted when he caught sight of Dae-Hyun in the corner of Eunha’s camera.

            “Yeah?” She asked, still oblivious. Han made a move with his head, not wanting to say out loud that there was someone behind her since Yoongi was distracted by his phone. Only then, Eunha turned and saw Dae-Hyun, sitting on top of the counter, eating the breakfast she had made. “Oh, my God! Can’t you see I’m busy?”

            “Who is that?” Dae-Hyun asked, not reading the room. Eunha muted her mic and turned the camera off; Yoongi was still busy on his phone, so he didn’t notice the interruption.

            “It’s my boss, you creep!” Eunha told her brother. “Why the hell are you wearing my robe?”

            “I didn’t bring mine,” he said, as if wearing hers was the obvious choice. “Did you put salt on this?”

            “Hey, I’m working! Go to your room!”

            “Ugh, so grumpy for no reason,” he sighed, taking his plate to the living room to continue his breakfast.

            “Sorry about that,” Eunha said, going back to her team’s meeting. “My brother arrived last night,”

            “I didn’t know you had a brother,” Yoongi said, finally putting down his phone.

            “Uhm… I’m sure I’ve mentioned it,” Eunha said. “Anyway, back on the agenda,”

            “Right,” Han said, sharing the screen again so they could see the calendar. “We have the trimestral meeting in HQ this Wednesday; the Label Managers have been working on the distribution of the projects per team. From what I heard, they are asking Mr. Min and you, Ms. Seong, to work on the new debut group’s EP,”

            “I called Deku last night,” Yoongi said. “She wanted to discuss the details of the concept they have for this group. It’s pretty straight-forward, taking inspiration from early 2000s American rock bands, mostly,”

            “Do you know who is running the visual concept?” Eunha asked, taking notes.

            “I think it’s the same team that’s running Kwan’s project,” Han said; both Yoongi and Eunha grunted, they didn’t like to work with Kwan.

            “How old are the group members?” Yoongi asked.

            “I think the youngest is 20,” Han said, going over his notes again. “All I know is there are four members: drummer, bassist, and two guitarists,”

            “Make sure to ask for their brand book and concept book,” Eunha told Han. “It will give us enough info to know what we’re dealing with,”

            “Sure, count on that,” the young assistant said. “Now, going to the next point in the minute. I wanted to ask you both about your personal agendas for the next couple of weeks. It is my understanding that Jung Hoseok’s sister is getting married since you’ve both mentioned it before. Are you both planning on taking those days off?”

            “Yeah, I forgot about that,” Yoongi sighed, getting stressed with the whole wedding stuff. “It’s next weekend. I won’t be available from Friday to Sunday, but I’m planning to go back to work on Monday as usual,”

            “Alright,” Han said, blocking the dates on the calendar already. “Ms. Seong?”

            “Yeah, same as him,” she said.

            “Great,” Han blocked the dates for her, too. “There’s a shooting next week in Busan, as well,”

“Oh, I totally forgot about that,” Yoongi grunted.

“It’s the same project from a couple months, the one Ms. Seong was in charge of,” Han said. Eunha wasn’t sure if she remembered the necessary details about her trip to Busan.

            “Cool,” Yoongi said. “Send her back, then,”

            “Hey, I only went last time because you were busy,” she complained. “The team was very condescending with me,”

            “There are rude people everywhere,” Yoongi said. “You need to be firm with them, let them know you are not playing around,”

            “This time they’re shooting a short music video,” Han interrupted. “It’s supposed to be a continuation of the previous one, so…”

            “If I’m going, I’ll need an assistant,” Eunha said out of nowhere. “And I’m staying at least a couple of days. Traveling back home on the same day was a pain in the ass,”

            “We’ll make it work,” Yoongi said, trying to hide his smirk as he knew exactly what was on her mind. “I’ll need Han to stay in the office, so let’s see if we can find someone to help you with this,”

            “Oh, I have lots of friends who are professional filmmakers,” Han said, unaware of what Yoongi and Eunha were telepathically plotting. “Some of them are freelancers, so I could call them,”

            “We’ll check that later,” Yoongi said, going to the next thing to check on their agenda.

After two and a half hours, Eunha was finally free of her morning meetings. She was expected to go to the studio to work with Yoongi later but still had enough time to eat her breakfast and even grab some coffee. She had almost forgotten that her brother was in the same house until she heard his laugh come from the living room.

            “Don’t you have something else to do?” Eunha asked, joining him on the couch. “Why the hell are you still wearing my robe?”

            “I was looking for the only clean shirt I have left but I can’t find it,”

            “Oh,” Eunha said, knowing exactly which one he meant. “Taehyung needed a change so I gave it to him,”

            “First of all, gross! I don’t want your boyfriend’s sweaty body to ruin my silk shirt!” he whined. “And second, we need to talk about him sneaking into your room at night as a horny teenager,”

            “Shut up!” Eunha was not talking about her romantic and potentially sexual life with her brother. “We’re not teenagers anymore, and we’re not horny,”

            “Sure,” he sarcastically said.

            “Besides, what we do or not is none of your business,”

            “So, you are doing it!”

            “No, we’re not!”

            “You’re not?” he asked, now laughing. “You’re really not?”

            “No,” she sighed, fuming.

            “Hey, I just want you to be careful when you actually do it,”

            “Nope, we’re not talking about this,” she stood up, going back to the kitchen.

            “Eunnie,” he said, following her. “I’m serious! I don’t want you to fuck up like me. Just… remember you don’t owe him anything just because he is your boyfriend and because you love him or whatever. I don’t want you to feel pressured to do something if you don’t feel like you’re ready,”

She knew it was coming from a good place, and she actually appreciated her brother’s attempt of taking care of her. Still, she didn’t want to talk about it. She was sure she and Taehyung were not there yet. Sure, the thought had crossed her mind a couple of times, but it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

            “What are your plans in Seoul, anyway?” she asked, letting him know the previous conversation was over.

            “I want to see what the city has to offer,” he sighed. “I’m tired of working in Mom’s restaurant. I mean, I appreciate them letting me stay at their home and all that but,”

            “But you miss your freedom,”

            “Exactly,” he chuckled. “Besides, Dad keeps asking when I’ll recover and go back to play baseball. To be honest, I’m not even sure if I want to do that anymore,”

            “I thought you loved baseball,”

            “I do. I just don’t love the team, the city, the people around me,” he unconsciously started rubbing his injured shoulder, thinking of everything about his current life that hurt him. “After the last time I saw you, I kept thinking of how happy you looked, and good you were doing. I… I want that, you know?”

She didn’t say anything. She wished it was as simple as her brother made it sound, but to get to the point she was now, she had struggled and cried a lot. Still, Eunha didn’t have the heart to discourage her brother. She wanted Dae-Hyun to be happy; he deserved it.

            “Want to grab some coffee?” she asked.

Eunha continued her day as she had planned, only with her brother coming along, too. She was happy to catch up with him as they walked to the bus stop and answered all his questions about Taehyung and her roommates on the way to the café. She was a bit sad that she didn’t get to see James, wanting to introduce him to Dae-Hyun, but still told him all about the little Aussie kid who was friends with her. They walked together to Eunha’s office, where she gave him a tour, showing him the fancy studio where she was supposed to meet Yoongi.

            “This is dope!” Dae-Hyun complimented. “The studio I saw yesterday was smaller,”

            “Yeah, that’s where the rest of the crew works, but this is my boss’ personal studio,” she proudly said. “He lets me use it,”

            “Is that a Johny Cash Martin?” he was already on his way to grab the guitar, which gave Eunha a little panic attack.

            “Don’t! That’s Yoongi’s! That’s like the only thing I’m not allowed to use, so please, don’t!”

            “Damn, you’re making him sound like a monster,” Dae-Hyun said, frowning at the thought of his sister’s tyrant boss.

            “No, he is a sweetheart, honestly. Well, at first he might come off as a jerk, but that’s only because he is an introvert,” she wasn’t helping the mental image he was making. “He’s just very careful with the things that are important to him, like this guitar,”

            “I thought you said he was your friend,”

            “He is. He is probably my best friend. After Taehyung, of course,” she made sure to clear that out. “But he is still my boss and I respect him a lot,”

Just then, the studio door opened, and Min Yoongi came in, holding a six-pack of beers in one hand and a jumbo bag of chips.

            “Let’s finish this fucking EP already, oh… hello,” Yoongi seemed very confused by the presence of a stranger in his studio.

            “Hi, Yoongi, this is my brother Dae-Hyun,” Eunha was fast to say. “Dae-Hyun, this is Min Yoongi,”

            “Nice to meet you,” Dae-Hyun said, bowing his head and offering a friendly smile. Yoongi’s eyes went from brother to sister, trying to catch the similarities between them. “Let me help you with that,”

            “Thanks,” Yoongi said, letting Seong Dae-Hyun grab the beers effortlessly and put them in the mini-fridge.

            “I couldn’t leave him home alone,” Eunha explained. “He might burn down the house or something,”

            “Ha-ha,” Dae-Hyun ironically laughed, glaring at his sister. “She’s just scared that I bump into her boyfriend again,”

            “Taehyung had the brilliant idea of breaking into my room last night,” Eunha explained. “Now he doesn’t trust me,”

            “Honestly, I’m just surprised he had the physical ability to climb through your balcony,” Yoongi chuckled, finally sitting down in front of his computer. “Feel at home, Dae-Hyun-ssi,”

            “Thanks,” Dae-Hyun’s eye smile appeared as he took Yoongi’s word and sat on the couch. “I’ll be nice and quiet, don’t worry,”

            “Where do you want to start today?” Eunha asked, getting into work mode already.

            “I’d like to re-record the bass line now that you’re here,” Yoongi said, opening the bag of Cheetos and passing it to Eunha’s brother. She thought it was cute that he was doing his best effort to make Dae-Hyun feel welcome, knowing how hard it was for Yoongi to open up to strangers at first.

            “Can you remind me what's the melody?” Eunha was already walking over the guitars, taking the pretty precision bass she liked. Yoongi helped her plug it in and played the previous recording so she could figure out what to play.

Dae-Hyun kept his promise, allowing the two friends to work in peace, enjoying seeing their process and noticing how easily they understood each other, almost as if reading the other’s minds. After they finished recording all the bass parts, Yoongi made an unusual pause to open a beer and offer one to the guest.

            “We don’t usually drink at work,” Yoongi felt the need to explain. “But we’re really sick of this particular song. The process it’s been dull as hell,”

            “I imagine,” Dae-Hyun said, accepting the beer. “It sounds great, though. Did you write it?”

            “No, I’m only producing and mastering it,” Yoongi explained. It looked as if neither of them knew exactly what to do with their drinks. Dae-Hyun wasn’t sure if he had to turn his head to the side, not knowing if Yoongi was older or younger than him.

            “So, you’re Eunha’s older brother,” Yoongi said conversationally.

            “Yeah, for two years,” Dae-Hyun said, letting Yoongi do the math.

            “He was also born in 93,” Eunha finally said.

            “Really?” Dae-Hyun looked happy about it. “What month?”

            “March. I’m a Piscis,” Yoongi said. “I mean, not that I believe in that stuff but people always ask,”

Eunha almost laughed at how out of pocket his comment was.

            “I’m a Sagittarius,” Dae-Hyun said.

            “November or December?” Yoongi asked.

            “December,” Dae-Hyun said, finally drinking from his beer. “Jin-hyung is a Sag, too,”

Of course, Dae-Hyun had no idea who Jin-Hyung was but he made sure to remember that information. For a minute, the room went silent. None of the boys knew exactly what to talk about. Eunha was running through her head all the different possible conversation topics she could bring up to make the two of them keep talking.

            “Oh, did I mention Dae-Hyun plays baseball?” she was sure Yoongi had mentioned liking a sport that involved a ball, but she wasn’t sure which was it.

            “Played,” her brother corrected. “Well, I mean, I’m not playing at the moment,”

            “So, you’re in a team?” Yoongi asked with curiosity.

            “Yeah, but right now I’m on a break,” he explained. “I got in an accident recently so, I can’t really play,”

            “I’m sorry,” Yoongi said.

            “It’s okay, I’m still getting paid,” Dae-Hyun drank from his beer again and Yoongi mimicked him. “Do you play any sports?”

            “Basketball, but not professionally,” Yoongi said. “I considered it, though,”

            “Oh, so you must be good, then,”

            “I’m okay, I guess,” Yoongi said. Eunha was happy the conversation between them was going well. She really wanted them to get along, especially if Dae-Hyun was considering staying in Seoul for a while; she thought her brother could use some friends his age. “Of course, that wouldn’t have worked because of my height,”

“What are you talking about? You’re just perfect,” Dae-Hyun laughed. “Besides, stereotypical physical attributes end up being worthless if you compare them to actual talent and use of brains,”

 “Says the guy who is pure muscle,” Yoongi laughed.

            “That only means I don’t have the brains,” Dae-Hyun laughed even harder, making Yoongi laugh as well.

            “Shut up, you graduated with honors,” Eunha didn’t like when his brother used self-deprecating humor to entertain the rest. “He learned to play guitar overnight,”

            “Really?” Yoongi asked. “Do you play any other instruments?”

            “Mostly guitar and piano,” Dae-Hyun said. “But not seriously, I mean I just know a couple of scales,”

            “That’s all you need,” Yoongi said, trying to be nice. “Music is just a couple of scales if you think about it,”

            “I guess. Still, music is not where I shine the most. Not like you guys do,” Dae-Hyun finished his beer, not saying anything else. Yoongi followed right after, drinking the last sips from his bottle, and left it on the table before going back to his computer.

Eunha: So, Yoongi and Dae-Hyun met

Tae: how did that go?

Eunha: surprisingly good

Eunha: They seemed to get along well

Tae: Did you take him to the studio?

Eunha: Yeah, but he left a while ago

Eunha: Said he was meeting some old friends

Eunha: But I’m sure I saw a Tinder notification pop up on his screen

Tae: Good for him I guess

Tae: You said he broke up with his girlfriend, right?

Eunha: Yeah, some months ago

Eunha: So I’m happy for him to put himself out there or whatever

Eunha: What are you doing?

Tae: I’m taking Tae-Jun to get a haircut

Tae: He also needs some clothes

Tae: I don’t think I can make it to lunch babe

Eunha: It’s okay!!

Eunha: Are you free later?

Eunha: Yoongi invited Dae-Hyun to his place later

Tae: So, party at Yoongi’s at night?

Eunha: I don’t think he meant party, but he mentioned some wine

Tae: Sounds great!

Tae: Wait, am I invited or only Dae-Hyun?

Eunha: I’m sure he meant all of us

Eunha: I’ll ask him later

Tae: Alright, text you later

Tae: This kid is taking too long to pick a drink

Eunha: Cuteeeee

Tae: what about me?

Eunha: You're the cutest

Tae: ok

Tae: see you at night love

Eunha: bye 💗

(Previous) (Next)

[readyplayerhobi]

Behind The Mask Masterpost

; Metal Band!Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, smut

; Synopsis: The daughter of a wealthy CEO and the drummer of a metal band have nothing in common and your parents would simply die to find out you were involved in him. But after a lifetime spent appeasing them, you’re more than happy to please yourself, and be pleased in turn.

-

Behind The Mask

Little Drummer Boy

Save A Drum, Bang A Drummer

[glossdebut]

PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ MASTERLIST

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.

✧ TAGS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fake/pretend relationship (not main couple), rockstar!yoongi, model!reader, guitarist yoongi, singer jungkook, bassist taehyung, drummer jimin, manager namjoon, yoongi & maknae line are in a rock band, reader & seokjin are best friends, yoongi & hoseok are best friends (sope duo ftw), yoongi has a tongue piercing, reader is a brat

✧ WARNINGS: SLOW UPDATES, explicit sexual content, agonizingly slow burn, jealousy, hurt/comfort, emotional baggage and trauma (LIKE… EVERYONE), alcohol and drug usage, yoongi is kind of an asshole but i promise he isn’t irredeemable, everyone is bad at feelings and the communication of those feelings, The Music Industry is a warning of its own, blackmail, sexual harassment*, coercion*, quid pro quo*

* happens prior to the start of the story, not committed by the main characters.

✧ WORDCOUNT: 11.3k and counting!

✧ STATUS: ongoing

✧ SERIES PLAYLIST: spotify & official post

✧ CHAPTERS ✧

chapter one: ALL YOU PEOPLE ARE VAMPIRES!

chapter two: A HIT IS HARD TO RESIST

『 askbox ★ masterlist ★ ao3 ★ taglist 』

[inbtswethrrust]

guess i'll go sit with drum boy, at least he'll know how to hit

Pairing: Hoseok/Yoongi Rated: T Author: jflawless Length: 3k

hoseok is the drummer in a shitty band and yoongi likes him anyways

READ ON AO3

Reccer’s Note: IM IN LOVR”!!! WITH THIS FIC!! ITS SO FUCKING GOOD GUYS ITS SO ADORBALE IM IN LOVE I LOVE YOONSEOK I LOVE JFLAWLESS, PUT THEM TOGETEHR WHAT DO U GET? A MASTERPIEEEECECE - N

[taeflwr]

drummer jungkook

like or reblog if you save plss!

[huoguobae]

drummer boy hoseok

[starliteyes-scans]

[Twitter] BTS performed for the MusiCares Charity Event

WE GOT DRUMMER JK

[imfires333]

Natural | JHS

Summary: “I'm here for BTS. My friend is the drummer.”

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

You looked at yourself in the mirror, turning around to admire the outfit you chose for tonight’s show. The jeans hugged your hips perfectly, accentuating your curves in all the right places. You were wearing a T-shirt from your favorite band, Chon, that had a simple design with the band’s name on the front and a serene picture on the back. Rings glittered on your fingers as you threw your cardigan over your shoulders. Your bangs fell on your forehead just how you wanted them to, the rest of your hair pulled into a messy bun on the top of your head. Earrings flashed up your ear, reminding you of your newest addition on your cartilage that you wanted to show off. Lastly, you checked that your makeup had not gotten smudged in the last ten minutes, and you smiled at the person in the mirror, watching her your exact movements.

Snatching your phone from your bed and throwing it in your purse, you moved to the front door of your apartment and slid your pink sneakers on, one of your many pairs of Vans. Your cat slinked around your legs as if to ask you what you were up to, and you patted her on the head before crossing the threshold and locking the door behind you. If you didn’t hurry, you would be late to the show.

Your friend Hoseok played drums for a band he started in college, and it was his show that you were on your way to. The two of you had known each other for a few years through the School of Music at your university, and you’d only started getting closer over the past few months because of an interaction you’d had on Twitter. Now every time you’d get a message from him asking to hang out, your stomach did backflips and you’d waste no time in replying positively. Excitement bubbled in your chest at the thought of seeing him performing at a café downtown. There were going to be a few other local bands there, and his would be the second to last to play, scheduled at 9:30.

After circling the streets for ages, you finally backed into a spot and parked the car. The parking lot you were in had several streetlights shining above it, one flickering ominously. You locked the car and hurried in the direction your phone’s map pointed you to, finding yourself standing before a large building that the café would be in. You checked the time—9:25—and pushed the door open. Signs pointed you to the elevator, and you took it to the fourth floor.

The elevator doors slid open to show two girls sitting behind a table with a large money box in front of them. They smiled at you, and you coughed up the $10 admission, prepared to go behind them and into the café where you would find Hoseok and his band.

“Who are you here to see?” one of the girls suddenly asked before you managed to escape. She was dark-haired and wore the T-shirt of another band you liked, so you decided you liked her and would try not to be too awkward with her.

“I’m here for BTS,” you replied. “My friend is the drummer.”

At that, the girl clapped her hands excitedly while the other girl running the table looked at you with wide eyes. “You’re friends with him? He’s so hot!” she whispered, covering her mouth. The other girl looked at her and nodded her head up and down, enthusiastically agreeing.

“We saw him come in earlier with his stuff. Well, he came in a lot of times. He brought up a lot of bags,” the first girl said. “We offered to help him, but he said he didn’t need it. It was fine with us because we could see him more,” she giggled.

You smiled sweetly at the girl, hoping that they didn’t notice your nostrils flaring. “Yeah, well I’m gonna go inside now. I’ll see you later!” you said with a wave. They returned the gesture before you turned and walked into the café.

Guitar music was playing loudly through the amps at the back of the room. Sitting on his throne and fiddling with something on top of his cymbal, Hoseok was there, finishing setting up. His hair was hanging in his eyes, and he sat up, pushing it back to reveal his forehead. Two of his bandmates, Namjoon and Yoongi, were on the tiny stage with him. They seemed to be talking to each other, Yoongi flipping a water bottle in his hand, Namjoon tapping his foot with his bass hanging around his neck. Their other bandmate, Jeongguk, was sitting at the edge of the stage, on knee bent to his chest, the other straight, like he was about to trip anyone who came near his stage. He brought a wine glass to his lips, making you wonder how it would affect his performance.

Cutting in between people, you made your way to the coffee bar…which sold more wine than coffee, and that was not a problem. You skimmed the chalkboard behind the barista/bartender and asked for a cabernet. She poured a glass for you, and you traded your money for it. You turned around, glass in hand, and navigated through the crowd of people, managing to snatch a spot that somebody had just vacated against the wall near the stage.

“Hoseok!” you called out to him.

The owner of the name looked in your direction and found you. His face lit up, showing a bright smile and waving eagerly to you. Picking up a glass of red wine, Hoseok snaked over to you and pulled you into a hug. Your face landed in the crook of his neck, and his cologne infiltrated your senses, paralyzing you momentarily. You relaxed into his hug and wrapped your arms around his neck. While one arm held his wine, the other was around your waist, and he squeezed you tightly before releasing you.

“Hey, I’m so glad you came!” he said with the excitement of a 7-year-old in a bouncy house. He was bobbing up and down on his heels, the anticipation of performing running through him.

“Well yeah, I wanted to see some of your own music, not just covers,” you said, jabbing his shoulder lightly. Lately, he had been texting you a lot, asking for recommendations on what songs he should cover on drums. You’ve provided him with many songs covering a variety of genres, and he’s responded with videos of himself playing along to the songs recorded on his phone. You knew that he wrote music for his band, but you hadn’t heard much of it because they were slow to upload them to streaming services, not caring too much about getting plays. They were in it for the fun of it, not relying on it to get them anywhere in life. Each of the band members had jobs and lives they focused on outside of their band, but they managed to make time for shows like this one.

Hoseok smirked. “You know you love the covers anyway. But listen, we’re about to start, so I’ll catch you later—obviously, this café is so small,” he said, looking at his surroundings. “Enjoy!” He gave you a wink before walking over to join his bandmates.

“Our next band is BTS!” a voice came on over the speaker, taking the opportunity to introduce the band. The voice belonged to Kim Seokjin, the MC for the night. You’d frequently seen him at other shows, where you occasionally talked about the bands you’d be seeing, so it was nice to see another familiar face in this new environment. “They’re made up of Jeon Jeongguk on the mic, Min Yoongi on the keyboard and guitar, Kim Namjoon on the bass, and Jung Hoseok back there on the drums. Let’s give it up for BTS!”

The café erupted into applause as the first chord of the guitar ripped through the room. Your first time seeing them live, you carefully listened to the melodies and tried to decipher the lyrics. Jeongguk’s voice was smoother than you had expected it to be, the words coming out like honey. Yoongi was able to multitask well, taking turns between the guitar for most of the set and the keyboard for softer parts. Namjoon’s face was glowing, seemingly loving the feeling of playing. Then you found yourself studying Hoseok. His hands and wrists moved quickly, never missing a beat. His legs jumped up and down with every hit on the bass drum and hi-hat. Nothing could beat the look on his face when he was doing a difficult run, his mouth agape and eyes slightly closed, which made you smile to yourself. Between songs, his shoulders heaved up and down while he wiped the sweat off his brow with a towel. But every time they would start playing again, Hoseok jumped right back in, energized like never before.

Before you knew it, their set was over, and the crowd was clapping wildly. You joined them, feeling like you were on cloud nine from being part of the experience. The band had great music and an entertaining stage presence, but you had been especially focused on your friend Hoseok pounding on the drums. BTS stood at the front of the stage and thanked the audience, bowing and clapping with you. The drummer went back to a spot next to the stage and brought round bags to where he had been moments previous. He sat behind the kit and started taking things apart, and you jumped up out of your seat.

“Want some help with that?” you asked, looking down at him as he was focused on spinning his finger around the top of a cymbal. From this height, you could see the sweat falling from the tips of his hair and dripping down his neck. His shirt was also a little wet from the work he put in, causing your mind to temporarily drift elsewhere, to a place that was not the café.

Immediately, his face split into a grin as he gazed up at you. “That’d be nice! Can you just take these little twisty things off to separate the pieces? I can handle putting them in the bags.” He gestured to the clutch his fingers were pinching.

The two of you worked on his drum set, talking about how his show was while moving as quickly as you could so that the last band could get ready. After the last bag was zipped up, the rest of his bandmates were back from loading their own instruments into their cars with Jeongguk helping Yoongi, the multitasker. In one trip, the five of you carried the disassembled kit to Hoseok’s car and squished them in the backseat and trunk. Hoseok brushed his hands off, and the other boys rushed back to the building to avoid missing the last band, leaving him behind with you.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said gratefully. “The worst part about a show is it ending and doing all that. Was that your first time taking apart a drum set? You were pretty fast.”

You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. “What can I say? I’ve got fast hands. I’m a natural for things like this.”

Hoseok raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What other things can you do with your hands?” He stared you down jokingly, not expecting you to do anything besides play with him.

“Well…” you started, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. “I’m pretty good at…this!” You reached out into the dark and found his hand, taking it in yours. Under the lights of the parking lot, Hoseok’s face was hard to see, but you couldn’t miss the little squeak of surprise that he let escape. He recovered quickly though, and you could see a smile take over his face as he squeezed your hand back. You giggled at the various reactions Hoseok went through.

“I think I could get used to that,” he said, his voice low and husky, as if it could take back the squeak from his mouth. “Do you mind if I show you what I’m a natural at?”

You nodded shyly, looking up at him from beneath your eyelashes, and saw his face coming closer to you, his dark eyes watching you carefully. Your eyes fell closed, and finally, his lips pressed against yours, the two of you softly melding together. The taste of cabernet filled your head, and you drank him in, loving the feeling of this man against you, one hand on your face, the other still holding your own hand.

“ARE Y’ALL DONE? YOUR’E GONNA MISS THE WHOLE SET!” a voice called out. You broke apart, the blood rushing up to color your cheeks. The two of you looked behind Hoseok and saw the three boys on the steps to the building. Yoongi was leaning against the railing, Jeongguk had his hands covering his eyes, and Namjoon had a hand over his mouth, hiding a smile.

Hoseok looked back at you, unfazed by having been caught by his bandmates. He took your hand and pulled you their direction. “Let’s not miss more, shall we?”