#drummer!jungkook

[bubmyg]

59/547 posting a picture every day until jeongguk is home

#drummer koo save me drummer koo #days of jk #jeongguk #jungkook #jk

[lcksndkys]

Pairing: JJK x reader

Genre: smut, angst, minors DNI

Word count: 7.2k

Warnings: brief allusions to past cheating, protected sex, nipple play, fingering, male masterbation, handjob. 

Summary: In a time when love seems out of reach, you are only ready for no-strings-attached companionship, but Jungkook is persistent and seeks to show you that true love is patient and kind. Starting from the beginning, this is the story of the TWOYH couple.

A/N: wow never thought i’d actually start this series, but here we are with ch1 finally done! thank you to @jinpanman​ @wwilloww​ @sahmfanficbts​ for your continued encouragement, without you wonderful humans, i would never have started/continued writing <3 and to anyone who read this, i would love to hear your thoughts, so please feel free to hit that ask button and talk to me :)

Feet aching, you glare daggers at your best friend. It’s been a few years since you’ve been to a venue like this- small and cramped with sticky floors and abysmal air circulation. You had a very long and arduous week at work finalizing the acquisition of a small underground band that ended up falling through at the last moment. Disappointed to have nothing to show for your efforts, all you want to do is go home to a hot shower and then fall asleep to the next episode of whatever true crime docu-series you have lined up on Netflix. 

But Yeona had begged you, claiming the band was really good and she was sure you would enjoy their sound. And of course you caved to her. Part of you wanted to collapse into the peace of your quiet home, but if you were honest with yourself, you also didn’t want to be home alone in an empty apartment on a Friday night. 

Tonight, there’s a local band lined up to play at The Magic Shop, and from the looks of it, they’re already pretty popular. You scan the crowded bar looking for Jeon Yeona’s unmistakable electric blue hair. 

Spotting your roommate at one of the few tables off to the side, you make a bee-line for her. You drop into the only other bar stool at the small table. “I can’t believe I let you drag me out to this dump,” you grunt, flicking her ear in greeting.

“Oh come on, you love me. Plus, I promise they’re good!” she retorts, slapping your offending hand away. 

You catch up over the next half hour while waiting for the band to perform.

The sudden clamor of girls screaming alerts you to movement on the stage. Your eyes widen in surprise at the sight before you.

Five men begin setting up various instruments, mics, and amps, occasionally throwing shy smiles and waves to appease their crowd. Each man is beautiful in his own right, but there is one in particular that catches your eye. You squint in disbelief. Is that-

“-Jungkook?!” you exclaim, eyebrows shooting up into your hairline in surprise.

You hadn’t seen much of Yeona’s little brother since graduating high school, only hearing small tidbits from your friend over the years. The last time you saw him, he was a sweet but shy, gangly teen with teeth too big for his mouth and a nose too big for his face. 

Puberty sure was generous with him.

Tonight, he’s dressed in a black-on-black casual ensemble. Ripped black jeans and a cut off tank expose his muscular arms and some of his ribs.

And is that an undercut? 

You sputter for a moment, thrown by the sight of him.

As a kid, Jungkook used to tag along with you and Yeona, but as he got a little older, stopped hanging around you altogether. You always wondered what happened to him.

You turn to Yeona who smiles sheepishly at you. 

“I was hoping that you’d pass on Beyond the Scene’s mixtape to those R-Kive execs,” she confesses from behind her glass.

Your mouth gapes in equal parts indignation and shock. 

“Please, babe, I wouldn’t ask you this unless I really thought they had a chance. Just watch them play and decide for yourself,” she pleads, hands clasped together, giving you her signature doe eyed pout.

At your hesitance, she grabs both your hands in hers, swinging them innocently between you, pouting childishly.

“Fine,” you sigh. You were already here and clearly the show was about to start. 

The stage lights start to brighten and you note, belatedly, that all band members have taken their positions on stage. 

Beyond the Scene begins to play, starting off their set with an upbeat number. Their music is a blend of catchy riffs, eloquent lyrics, and a perfect blend of vocals and rap. You’re surprised by the musicality of this small band. 

Critiquing the band internally, you reluctantly agree with Yeona. Highly energetic. Performance focused. Relatable music. Also, it doesn't hurt that all the band members are incredibly handsome.

You can already tell Namjoon would consider pursuing this band as an acceptable replacement for the botched acquisition this week. Yoongi would be a harder sell since you knew he was still pushing to sign a rapper instead.

You are captivated as Beyond the Scene engages with their audience, transitioning from song to song with the seamless experience of a band who has been together for years. The first several songs are energetic and bright and you unconsciously bop your head to the beat, swaying in your seat as the thrum of the music seeps into your bones. 

Winding down the song, you’re confused when the band suddenly starts clearing the stage. There’s unidentifiable murmuring caught on the mics as the friends exchange a few words. The keyboardist sets up a stool center stage while the prettiest man you’ve ever seen drags over a mic stand and winks into the crowd.

The excitement is palpable. It’s clear they’re expecting something.

Jungkook stands from behind his drum kit, pausing to take a deep breath before slowly creeping into the spotlight.

He takes a seat, fiddling with the rings on his fingers as he addresses their audience. 

“How’s everyone feelin?” he asks shyly. Jungkook’s greeting is met with loud approval. He smiles down into his lap as if unaccustomed to the praise.

Your eyebrows rise hearing the deepened timber of his voice. He sounds like a man now. 

“Um, I’m kind of nervous tonight,” he admits to the cooing audience. “There’s someone special here.”

His dark eyes sweep over the crowd a couple of times, finally flickering to your table where he holds your gaze for a split second before darting away. Heart in your throat, you belatedly realize you had been holding your breath.

What is happening?

“So, I decided to cover Never Not, by Lauv.” He speaks quietly into his mic, adjusting it to the appropriate height.

Surprising you yet again, Jungkook leans over to grasp the acoustic guitar, slinging the strap over his head and settling his fingers against the strings. He plucks at the strings a few times, tuning the instrument to his liking. But the way he clears his throat a few times while fiddling with his guitar has you thinking he’s nervous.

Tattoos blur into grey as his hand flies over the strings, his eyes slip closed as he loses himself in the song. 

You’re captivated by his voice, both melodic and soulful, as he sings about love long lost. With some coaching, his talent could lead to something real. This band could be big. 

Jungkook’s eyes stay closed for most of the song, only peeking open briefly on the chord progressions. With brows furrowed, he concentrates on expressing the emotion behind the lyrics.

With a final strum over the strings, the song ends and the crowd bursts into cheers. Jungkook’s head is still ducked, a small smile hanging off his lips, as he sets the guitar back on its stand.

Your eyes track his figure as he makes his way back out of the spotlight, getting comfortable behind his drums again. The rest of the band, who have been sitting scattered randomly on the outskirts of the stage, return to their posts.

“Isn’t our Jungkookie talented?” the pretty one asks the crowd. “Do you want to hear him sing more often?” He cups his ear to encourage the roaring of their fans to the chagrin of their drummer.

The boys giggle at Jungkook’s expense.

The bassist leans forward, bringing his heart shaped smile towards his mic. “Everybody! Did you see his muscles?” he mock-whispers salaciously while puffing out his chest and flexing his forearms and biceps. He turns back to get a glimpse of their shy drummer bashfully shaking his head. 

You cover your ears at the crowd’s raucous approval, laughing at the band’s antics. It’s clear that they adore embarrassing their friend.

There are a few more words thrown around, and someone calls Jungkook their “golden boy”. Behind him, Jungkook ducks his head, tucking some of his dark locks behind his ears. 

Eager to kick off the last half of their show, he clacks his drumsticks together, counting down into the next song and effectively ending their teasing.

The band launches into the final few songs, seeming to pick up in momentum the closer they get to the end of their set. Feeding off the energy from their audience, Beyond the Scene plays every verse and chorus like it’s their last song of the night.

Sweat dripping down his face and pooling in his clavicles, Jungkook’s exposed arms flex with the power he pounds into his drums. The rest of the night your eyes flick to and from Jungkook’s form as you fight the urge to watch as he performs.  

By the end of the show, you admit to yourself that this band has appeal. They’re clearly talented and passionate about their music. And having five good vocalists in a five-piece band was unheard of. They’re definitely unique. You decide you just might include BTS’s mixtape in the next talent acquisition meeting.

Entering the bar, Yeona immediately picks a small table in between two larger ones while you order drinks for the two of you.

You’re about to ask about the extra seats when- 

The doors fly open, accompanied by squeaking laughter and a flurry of limbs in dark clothing as five men playfully shove at each other.

Tilting your head in interest, you watch the band banter as they make their way into the bar. 

Yeona follows your gaze with a sheepish smile. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I invited the boys too,” she shrugs. 

You sigh, swirling the slowly melting ice in your drink. You know what she’s playing at now.

The loud squeaking laugh rings out again and you trace it back to the keyboardist. He playfully punches Jungkook in the side, following up with a neck chop causing the younger man’s face to krinkle in laughter. 

They play-fight all the way to the bar where Jungkook wraps his arm around his friend’s neck, placing him in a chokehold. Peals of hysterics carry across the bar, a palm smacking repeatedly on the smooth table top in surrender.

From a distance, you observe the interactions between the band members. 

As Jungkook shadow boxes with the keyboardist, your gaze wanders to their bass player who is leaning halfway over the bar top to flirt with the bartender. 

The two guitarists are sipping from each other’s glasses as if trying to determine if they want to swap. One makes a face after drinking from both glasses while the smaller framed man laughs and accepts both drinks. 

Yeona follows your gaze, watching you watch the friends.

“Tae always makes Jimin order two just so he can try them. That dumbass never actually wants anything more than a sip though,” Yeona laughs. 

You raise a brow at her. It seems she is well acquainted with the band.

She tries to wave them over, but the boys are too busy ribbing each other and fiddling with their drinks to notice.

“Chim!” she calls out, arms up overhead and waving more aggressively. 

Snapping his head towards a familiar voice, the pretty guitarist spots Yeona across the bar. With a drink in each hand, Jimin leads the men towards your table with a confident grin. He takes the remaining seat at your small table while his friends scatter to pull up bar stools and rearrange the furniture to accommodate a larger group.

Setting down his drinks, he wipes a palm on his jeans. Extending it, he grasps your hand and introduces himself with a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I’m Jimin, but you can call me whenever.” 

You giggle at his ridiculous eyebrow wiggle, clearly joking with you. 

Somewhere behind him, Jungkook rolls his eyes at his friend’s outrageously flirtatious behavior. 

Next to him, their other guitarist sips from a glass bottle of coke. “We’ve heard a lot about you from Yeona. I’m Taehyung,” the guitarist says, reaching a long arm across the table to shake your hand delicately.

“All good things, I hope.” You lift a brow at your best friend who nods along genially. 

Jungkook peers over, partially hidden behind Jimin’s slim figure. “It’s nice to see you again,” he says quietly with a grin.

“It’s been too long,” you agree, nodding warmly. “You’ve grown up so much!” 

Shifting back behind Jimin, he frowns. 

Caught up in Yeona and Jimin’s analysis of tonight’s show, you completely miss how the crooked smile on Jungkook’s face falters. 

“Never Not isn’t what I thought Jungkook had been planning to cover tonight,” Jimin says thoughtfully. “He usually picks something more upbeat, but it seemed like people really liked it.”

“Oh, does Jungkook always perform a solo cover?” you are intrigued, looking between Jimin and Jungkook. It is highly unusual for a drummer to also be a vocalist, let alone proficient in guitar. You try to catch his eye, but Jungkook seems to be more interested in the condensation beading on his glass.

This seems to catch their bass player’s attention. “We started it years ago when Jungkookie was still a shy baby. It was just a joke; a way to get him used to the attention!” he laughs cheerily. 

Somewhere in the background, you hear the drummer groan in protest while everyone else cackles goodnaturedly. 

You tip back the rest of your drink, beginning to feel the warming effects of the alcohol. 

Diverting the attention off himself, Jungkook starts introducing you to the rest of the band, silently hoping none of his other friends would blatantly flirt with you the way Jimin had.

“Hobi came up with the idea and the rest of the band kinda just pushed me into it.” Jungkook rubs a rough hand up and down his cheek, remembering how uncomfortable he had initially felt.The first time, he covered a popular pop song. With the familiar song, he had hoped that people would help sing along to drown out his vocals. Instead, the buzz of the venue seemed to dim, his clear voice cutting through and touching the hearts of the few dozen people present. 

“And the old man is Jin,” Jungkook says, eager to change the subject and points to their keyboardist. “He’s not funny, so please don’t feel obligated to laugh at his jokes.” 

“Yah! I raised you better than that!” Jin squawks. He’s waving a frantic finger at Jungkook, leading to another round of play fighting.

You giggle at their silliness, cheeks lifting with laughter as the group joins in on their shenanigans.

“Could I…” you trail off briefly to organize your thoughts. “Could I get a group shot of you guys and maybe individual pictures?” 

You fiddle with your phone, fingers clumsy and head light, tapping open the camera app and looking expectantly at the boys.

Five pairs of eyes shift around the table. 

It’s Jimin that breaks the silence. “You’re not obligated to anything, you know?” He shifts in his seat to square up to you. “We know Yeona asked you to put a good word in for us at R-Kive, and just to set the record straight, we don’t expect anything.”

Your head tilts in curiosity. “So, you’re passing up an opportunity to have your mixtape reviewed by a music agency?”

“We want it to be real,” comes Jungkook’s quiet, but assured reply.

The rest of the group nods in agreement. 

“We want to be signed for our talent, not for who we know,” he continues. “But thank you, I- we- appreciate it.”

You take a moment to analyze the band in front of you and chose your next words wisely. They could be the next big group.

“Look, we just met but I think you guys have the talent. I think you could make it big; get your music out there,” you raise a brow at Jimin. “Why not have a meeting with Joon and Yoongi, before you make a decision.”

You fumble through your purse for a business card, sliding across the table to the lead guitarist.

The rest of the band looks to Jimin as he studies the information on your card. Reaching a tentative hand out, he picks at a corner of the card while he looks around the table before pocketing it. 

Jimin crosses his arms. “We’ll think about it.”

The table is silent for a few moments, then Jin passes a napkin to your best friend. “Don’t lose this. I’m going to be famous,” he hoots. 

Yeona unfolds it to reveal the vague outline of his lip print in tinted lip balm, laughing at his zeal.

And just like that the awkward tension is broken. Midnight comes and goes as you enjoy getting to know the boys and reacquainting yourself with Jungkook. You find that Jungkook is good company, making you laugh with his quiet jokes and competitive behavior.

Seokjin with his squeaky laughter easily charms you with his dorky jokes and wild gestures, made even more entertaining after he bought the next round of drinks. Hoseok is warm and bubbly, an interesting contrast to his more aggressive rapper stage persona. Jimin, the pretty one, is naturally flirty and affectionate, often draped over his bandmates. With his outgoing personality, you’re not surprised that he seems like the unofficial leader. You have a more difficult time analyzing Taehyung; he seems friendly enough, but somewhat guarded with you. 

And Jungkook. Jungkook is the same boy you knew growing up- easygoing and goofy- only now he looks much more mature. You’d even call him manly, you can’t help but think with a shiver. 

He’s lost in the haze of the alcohol and the sweet cadence of your voice. Seeing you in the crowd tonight had his heart thumping and stomach twisting like he was 13 years old again. 

You’re all happily buzzed and it starts feeling more and more like you’re catching up with some old friends rather than making new ones. 

“Come on, let’s take your photos,” you raise your phone up and beckon to Jimin who poses with one arm across the back of Taehyung’s seat, a teasing smile directed at you.

You snap a few shots before turning to the band’s rhythm guitarist. Legs spread wide, Taehyung stares deep into the camera unblinking, before succumbing to giggles when Jimin jabs him repeatedly in the side.

Taking headshots of Hobi and Jin goes much like it did for the two guitarists. You get a couple of serious pictures before they dissolve into laughing fits. Although incredibly handsome, most of Jin’s photos come out goofy with his eyes wide and mouth open in the midst of yelling at a band mate.

Inspecting the initial photos for quality, you quickly text the photos to Yeona so the boys could review and approve them. Gathering around Yeona, they dwarf her smaller figure with their enthusiasm. 

“Jungkook, you’re last. Smile,” you ask, focusing on his boyishly handsome face. 

He looks past the phone aimed at his visage, seeing the tip of your tongue poking out from behind your teeth as you focus on getting the perfect angle and lighting. 

Head spinning and endeared with your familiar habits, his eyes drop to his hands in his lap. 

“Come on, Kook-ah,” you urge him to look up. Reaching out, you tip his chin up. 

Bolstered with liquid courage, he catches your wrist as you let go. His palms feel large, fingers long, wrapping delicately around you and pulling you closer.

You stumble a little, easily thrown off balance by the alcohol in your system. Throwing out a hand, you catch yourself on Jungkook’s shoulder. 

Oh, he’s built.

“You can take more pictures of me alone in my room later,” he whispers playfully against the shell of your ear. 

“Jeon Jungkook!” you sputter, scandalized. “You can’t-” your eyes flicker towards Yeona who is still distracted, “say things like that.” You laugh it off, hiding your flushed face behind your phone as you capture the typically shy, but alluring drummer. 

“I’m a man now,” he replies simply. Wry smile on his face, he tips his head to the side looking past your phone and directly at you. 

Heart pounding in your ears, you focus on taking his photos, refusing to linger on the mischievous, albeit crooked, smile on his face.

You take a short series of group photos of Beyond the Scene, getting a variety of silly and serious ones.

Deciding on one last drink, you stand and offer to buy the next, and likely last, round. 

“I’ll help you carry them.” Jungkook is quick to offer his assistance. With a gentle hand at the small of your back, the two of you make your way through the crowd and towards the bar. 

“Oof,” you grunt, taking a hasty step back when someone roughly bumps into you.

A strong arm wraps protectively around your waist helping to steady you, but it all fades into the background at the sight in front of you. 

A sudden weight in your chest drops heavy on your legs as if cementing you in place. 

“Taewoo.” You feel your mouth moving, lips curving around the familiar syllables.

Your ex-boyfriend looks momentarily stunned, eyes that used to shine with love now widen in shock. You hate that he’s still as stupidly handsome as the day he left you.

“Oh, do you two know each other?” says a feminine voice.

Torn from your haze, your eyes flick over to the pretty brunette wrapped around his arm, who’s sweetly (re: cluelessly) looking between the two of you. 

“We-”, Taewoo begins.

“- go way back. College friends.” You cut him off. Feeling hot pressure behind your eyes, you feel the frustrating yet impending tears threatening to spill over.  You need to get out of there ASAP.

She coos, hand rubbing up and down his arm. “Almost 8 months together and I still haven’t met all your friends!” 

Eyebrows flying up into your hairline, your head snaps back to look up at your ex who is looking more and more uncomfortable. You had only broken up several months ago, the sting of heartbreak still a familiar pang in your chest. A taped up box of his leftover belongings still sits in your closet, haunting you from its cluttered depths. You feel foolish to think he’d ever want you back.

“We just celebrated our anniversary and Taewoo wanted to stop by this bar for a drink,” she beams up at him.

The low lighting hides the shine over your eyes and the quivering of your lip. Taewoo had broken up with you earlier this year- citing a change of heart- after dating for three years. While you had thought you were about to take the next step in your relationship, he was clearly exploring other options. Instead of a ring, you got a cardboard box of your personal effects.  

Hand still on your back, Jungkook feels the way you tremble under his light touch. One look on your devastated face and he has a pretty good idea what’s going on.

“Ah, sorry, but we were just leaving,” he steps in, quickly steering you away from the happy couple and towards the safety of the outdoor patio. 

In a daze, you let the pressure on your spine lead you through a sea of bodies. 

Once outside, you breathe deeply allowing the fresh, crisp air to cool the aching in your chest. Jungkook stands closeby, running a soothing palm up and down your back. To his surprise, you lean into his touch allowing him to comfort you.

Breath shuttering, you look up at Jungkook with sad, watery eyes. Taewoo had been the most recent in a string of men who made promises they didn’t keep.

“Why doesn’t anyone want me?” 

It’s a rhetorical question, but in this moment, gazing down into your sorrowful eyes with alcohol lowering his inhibitions, it's one that he feels compelled to answer. Pulling you gently against his chest, his arms wrap around your shaking frame. 

If sober, Jungkook would never had the confidence to utter the next few words. You feel him inhale against you deeply. In, then out. “I want you,” he whispers into your crown. “I want you.”

You gulp. You can’t, right?

Pressing you against the wood, his hands wander under the hem of your top to eagerly map out your curves. Connected at the lips, you open your mouth wider sending your tongue deep into the recesses of his mouth to lap against the wet heat of his tongue. You suckle at the lipring curved around the bottom corner of his lower lip making Jungkook growl into your mouth and pull you into his chest.

You blindly feel for the doorknob, desperate for privacy on the other side. Jungkook groans into your neck, sucking harshly at your skin when you break from him to dig your keys from your purse. Eventually, you get the stubborn door unlocked sending the two of you stumbling across the threshold in a tangle of limbs.

Heart racing and breathless, you drop your purse to the floor and pull him by the hand towards your bedroom. 

His voice is deep when he chuckles. 

"For the record, I never thought this would actually happen," he rasps, winding his strong arms around your waist. He pulls you in to reacquaint your lips.

"Shut it," you snap and push him towards the bed. 

"Make me," he bites back with a smirk.

Kissing him one last time, you step back to pull your top off and quickly make work of your bra as well. Breasts bouncing as you haphazardly discard your clothing.

Going momentarily quiet, Jungkook’s gaze is drawn to your exposed chest, eyes roaming from your clavicles down the slope of your breasts taking in your topless figure. Heat tingles through you, lighting up every nerve ending at his blatant appreciation of your body. Your nipples pucker under his intense gaze.

His attention inflates your ego. Jungkook makes you feel desired. Your stomach lurches at the thought.

You roll your eyes and push the feeling down.

“Come on. We have to be quick,” you urge him. As you left the bar, you had texted Yeona letting her know that you were headed home early and she had responded that she would drive the rest of the band home. Which meant you had limited time alone.

Your fingers are quick to pull his shirt from his pants, quickly unbuttoning to push it from his broad shoulders. 

Jungkook just smiles down at you pleased with your enthusiasm. 

It takes no further encouragement for him to remove the rest of his clothing as you watch. 

“Be a good boy for me and lay down on the bed,” you command.

Happily obliging you, he settles atop your sheets propping himself up with his back against the headboard. 

Completely nude and wearing nothing but a smile, he laces his fingers and tucks his hands behind his head.

Your eyes roam his lithe body. Thick neck sitting atop a well muscled torso and held up by powerful thighs, he truly is a very attractive man. Tattoos cover his entire right arm and most of the right side of his chest, extending down his ribs, and you can’t help but feast on the black and grey art decorating his body.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” he says cockily, spreading his legs wider to showcase his rapidly fattening cock. 

You laugh at his pseudo arrogance, rolling your eyes at his snark and trying to forget that this is Yeona’s brother. You focus on his body and ignore your conscience. 

“I want you to touch yourself,” you instruct as you peel off your skirt.

Eager to please you, he begins obediently stroking himself while watching as you sensually undress for him.

“Faster,” you demand, joining him on your bed. Reclined with legs spread, you reveal the dampness that has gathered between your thighs.

Eyes dropping to your center, Junkook whimpers, but compiles, hand speeding up as he jerks his thickening length. 

You watch as he pleasures himself for you, eyes roaming his impressive physique, you rub yourself through your panties. 

“Do you want a taste?” you slip your fingers under the scrap of underwear to your slippery folds. Gathering some of your arousal, you offer him a sample of your wetness.

Craning forward, his tongue greedily laps at your fingertips groaning at your flavor. The hand fisting his cock speeds up as he cleans the slick off your digits. 

He pants, feeling precum dribbling generously from the slit and using it to swirl his hand on the upstroke to tug on the sensitive tip. 

“Don’t cum yet,” you command.

You let Jungkook pump his cock for another minute, mesmerized by the black ink that blurs with the speed of his hand. Satisfied that he’s fully hard you deliver your next command.

“Stop.”

He whines, but obeys your instruction, letting go of his throbbing erection as it bobs above his abdomen, heavy with his desire.

Jungkook is incredibly pliant for you, attention focused entirely on your movements. You preen under his amorous gaze, fingers going back under your panites to swipe at your clit. “What do you think of when you touch yourself?” you ask him.

He answers truthfully. A fantasy he’s had since he learned how to touch himself.

“You, in my clothes, with nothing on underneath,” he whispers. 

Making a show of rubbing yourself under your panties, you moan at his confession. 

“Are you going to let me fuck you?” he breathes. 

You regard him for a moment reveling in his fucked out expression. Eyes dazed with desire and cock leaking for you, Jungkook is the epitome of sin. And he wants you, unlike someone else. 

“No- ”

You smirk at his pout.

“- You’re going to let me fuck you,” you simper at him. You peel off your panties and flash him a quick glimpse of your glistening cunt.

Crawling the short distance to him, you swing a leg over him to straddle his lap.

His eyes drop immediately to your tits. With your newfound proximity, he can feel the heat coming off you in heady waves. 

“Do you want me?” you ask him.

His eyes shoot up to meet yours. “More than anything,” he groans. “Please let me touch you.”

Confidence soaring, you grab his hands and place them atop your breasts, encouraging him to play with your tits. 

“Oh fuck, you’re so hot,” he whines, feeling the fullness of your chest in his hands. “And all mine.”

Mine. But only for tonight, you think.

Giving him free rein to touch your body as he pleases, you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and send one hand into his hair. With a firm grip, you lean back a little and direct his panting mouth towards your breasts.

Feeling his warm lips wrap around your nipple, your eyes slip closed as you moan out wantonly. Gently suckling it to a peak, his tongue laps against your pebbled bud sending jolts of arousal to your cunt.

Jungkook’s hand trails down the front of your pelvis, slowly creeping south giving you ample time to stop him. The other wraps securely around your waist. 

“More,” you pant. “Touch me.”

Eager to fulfill your request, Jungkook slides his tattooed digits against your slickened folds. Finding your clit, he rubs gentle circles spreading your slick around your sensitive pearl making you whimper in pleasure. Jungkook kisses across your chest to suckle at your other nipple, temporarily diverting your attention from his wandering fingers. Muffled against you, he grunts in appreciation when you tug at his long hair. 

He slides a lone finger into your tight passage, cock twitching in excitement to finally feel you around him. Pumping slowly in and out of you, he basks in sounds of your delight.

“Another,” you demand, hips grinding against his hand.

Unwilling to unlatch from your nipple, he expresses his enthusiasm with a harsh flick against you. He obeys you quickly, slipping another finger into you feeling the way your pussy stretches to accommodate him. 

“Ah- fuck. You’re doing so good,” you praise him while he curls his fingers against your sweet spot.

With the way Jungkook pleasures you, it’s not long before you feel your climax begin to crest. Flattening out his hand, Jungkook grinds his palm against your clit as he curls his fingers, rubbing deliciously against your G-spot. The combination of his mouth lavishing your tits and his hand defiling your cunt has you tipping over the edge.

You moan into his ear as you cum, walls clenching rhymically around Jungkook’s digits. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm to help you ride it out. 

He unlatches from your breast when he feels your hand push at his arm. Pulling out of your cunt, he slips his glittering fingers into his mouth to polish off your essence. 

You bury your face into his neck, nipping and kissing up and down the thick muscles until he’s a whining mess under you. 

Unwinding your arms from around his shoulders, you slide your hands up and down his chest watching as his breaths come out shaky and uneven. You let your nails scratch lightly over his tattooed skin and catch over a nipple causing his cock to quiver where it rests against his groin.

Smiling, you reach between your bodies and grip his dick in a firm hold. He gasps as you jerk him a few times.

“Condom?” you ask.

“Wallet- back pocket,” he croaks flopping onto his back against your pillows.

You lift off his lap and quickly locate his discarded jeans. Digging through the pockets, you find his wallet, and as promised, a thin square packet. 

Returning to Jungkook who’s eyes have not left your figure, you sit atop his lap again. Ripping open the foil, you pinch the tip and place the condom against the dusky head quickly rolling it on and wipe the excess lube off your hand off on your sheets. 

“Tell me you want this,” you ask one last time, lining him up to your fluttering entrance.

“More than anythin- ahhhh!” comes his reply, cut short when you start to slowly sink down onto him.

You feel Jungkook tighten his hold around your hips letting your control your descent, fingertips dimpling the soft flesh as he fights against his instinct to sheath himself into your depths.

You moan at the initial pinch of his thick length stretching your walls apart. Hands on his chest, you stabilize yourself as you take him shallowly at first. Your hips rise and fall, slowly fucking him deeper and deeper into you.

You feel him shudder when he finally bottoms out. Ass flush against his thighs, your toes curl feeling the way Jungkook fills you.

Head tipped back, you pant quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of his turgid length, stuffing you full.

You set a fast pace, grinding back and forth, rubbing your clit on his pubic bone with his cock nestled deep within your walls.

“Ah, fuck. You’re so sexy… feels so, ah- so good,” Jungkook babbles, overwhelmed.

Looking down at him, you see a man in the throes of pleasure. Brow furrowed and jaw clenched, his eyes shine as he gazes longingly up at you while your silken walls tighten around him. Further south, his hair is matted to his skin, sparkling in your slick as you continue rocking back and forth. 

He pants your name repeatedly, hands wandering up and down your back, catching on the curve of your shoulder, down the column of your spine, and cupping your ass as you start bouncing, knocking a low groan from his soft lips.

Dropping your hips forcefully against him, you fill your bedroom with the sounds of moaning and slapping skin. 

Pliable beneath you, Jungkook whimpers desperately. Sweat beads on his hairline as he fights off his orgasm, refusing to cum before you. He’s fantasized about this moment for years and would be damned if he disappointed you.

Above him, you enjoy the control. After everything you’ve been through, you need it. 

“I’m getting close,” he warns.

You reach down feeling for the crux of your coupling to gather some of your slick off his cock using it to rub tight circles around your clit while you continue to bounce on him. 

Mewling in pleasure, you urge him to lift his pelvis to drive deeper into you. 

Leaning back, your hand settles on his thigh giving him the perfect view of your jiggling tits as you continue to impale yourself on his cock. The change in position presses him snugly against your front wall as you pound on him.

He looks from your blissed out face, to your breasts, and ultimately lands on your glittering pussy that’s stretched around his throbbing length. 

Wanting to give you everything, Jungkook plants his feet against your bed for leverage and wraps an arm around your hips, pulling you close as he pistons his pelvis up to meet your downward thrusts. 

Pushing your hand aside, he brings a hand down to your mound and uses his thumb to rub at your clit.

“Oh, fuck Jungkook,” you cry out as he swirls in tight circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves. “I’m gonna-” you gasp, feeling yourself fall over the precipice.

He growls, feeling your cunt tighten around him. Thighs quivering, your fingers rake across his shoulders, desperate to grasp onto something to ground yourself. Jungkook doubles down on thrusting up into you while he uses his strength to help keep you upright. 

Head thrown back and moaning wantonly, pleasure surges from between your legs, consuming you. Seeing white, your body tingles in rapture as you unravel for the second time tonight. Your walls spasm wildly around him, milking his length and encouraging him to his end.

Your ears ring in the aftermath of an intense orgasm while Jungkook pants laboring to bring himself to climax.

“Cum for me,” you urge him. “Come on, cum for me.” Caressing his neck and shoulders, you feel his muscles ripple with urgency. 

You remember how his dick twitched earlier and you stealthily card your nails down his pectorals before landing on his nipples. Taking them between your thumb and index fingers, you gently roll and twist making him howl in ecstasy.  

Jungkook cums with a pitchy whine, wrapping strong arms around you to hold you close as his cock erupts deep inside you. He thrusts shallowly into your heat several more times to draw out his pleasure while he fills the condom with his release. 

Heavy with post orgasm endorphins, Jungkook’s arms slacken from their vice around your waist allowing you to climb off him letting his slowly wilting length land with a soft splat against his thigh. 

Still panting, you amble into the bathroom on shaking legs leaving a smiling Jungkook to clean the mess between your legs and search for something to cover your nude form. 

Finding a hoodie and pair of lounge pants, you tug them on. You spare a glance at Jungkook who is carefully removing the soiled condom and wiping himself off with some tissue from your bedside table. He tosses both into the trash and he settles back into your sheets.

“Come back to bed?” he asks with a shy, but sweet, smile. 

Hair mussed and chest flushed, Jungkook offers his open arms to you, inviting you into his warm embrace. Your heart stutters over a beat, surprised to find yourself wanting to return to his comforting hold. But seeing you suddenly dressed makes him feel strangely vulnerable. Maybe you aren’t into post-coital cuddling.

“Here,” you gulp, pushing down the swell of emotions in your chest. You toss him something dark and soft. 

He looks down at his clothes, confused. Maybe you just aren’t into cuddling with him. 

“You should leave before Yeona gets home.” You’re already standing by your open doorway, ready to usher him out of your bedroom.

“Oh, um, I just thought that- but, okay,” he says, fumbling his words. This isn’t how he was hoping tonight would end. 

Your heart pangs in your chest upon hearing the thinly veiled disappointment in his tone. 

Jungkook pulls on his shirt and stands to tuck his still wilting length into his briefs. He chances a quick look at you only to see that you’ve averted your eyes. He finishes dressing quietly.

He makes to slide between you and the open doorway, but you catch him by the elbow before he can escape to lick his metaphoric wounds. 

You desperately want to put that sweet smile back on his face, but your mind and heart are a mess. You’re not ready to open up again. Not now. Not to him or anyone else, and you desperately try to put together the words to express that to him.

Even after what the two of you just did, you can’t seem to meet his eyes. You opt to look just left of his ear as you explain yourself. 

“I had a lot of fun tonight, Jungkook,” you admit softly, as if afraid to be heard by invisible ears. “I want you to know that it’s not you, Jungkook. It’s just- I’m just not looking to start anything with anyone right now.” You gesture uselessly with a hand as if trying to pull words the right words from thin air.

That’s not exactly what he wants to hear, but it’s a start. He heard that you and Taewoo had a rough breakup, though the details had always been kept vague. 

“If you want, I can do casual. It doesn’t have to be serious,” he offers. If he can only have your body, well, that’s better than not having you at all, isn’t it?

You find yourself entertaining his offer. No strings attached pleasure is tempting, but you look at Jungkook and all you see are strings.  

“I had a lot of fun tonight, Kook-ah. You’re really- you made me feel really good, but I don’t think that would be a good idea,” you say gently.

Jungkook smiles halfheartedly in response, having no words with which to reply.

Things could get complicated fast, and you weren’t willing to risk Yeona’s friendship.

Jungkook makes to leave, but you grab onto his wrist with a last minute request.

“Please don’t tell anyone. Please, Kook-ah.”

He hesitates for a split second. 

“Yeah, ok. Thank you for tonight. I’ll see you around,” he mumbles. Eyes downcast, he exits your apartment, shutting the door quietly on this way out. 

Hearing his steps retreat into the night, you close the door and sag against the wood, drained emotionally and physically by the turn of events. 

Disappointed in yourself, you curl up in bed and breathe in the lingering scent of Jungkook on your sheets. That night you dream of flashing lights, nimble fingers on guitar strings, and buck teeth.

#bts #bts fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #drummer!jk #rock band au #best friends brother au #fwb au #52hertz #btshoneyhive #jungkook scenario

[onlyswan]

For your latest in which installment where did you find that gif of jungkook playing the drums?

made the gif myself and i got the clip from this bangtan 💣 :D <3

#you don’t understand how in love i am with this jungkook #and that other drummer jungkook clip where he’s bare faced and he’s wearing a black jacket #art’s post office ☁️

[dreamycafeart]

Baby bun’s first recital!!

#BTS #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #jjk #jeon jungkook #drummer jk #dreamycafeart

[midnightsinlove]

saw some clips and vids of jk at the gcf and ... :/ still with you, euphoria, his dancing in butter, etc and it looked and felt like he was just doing sound check

#salem.txt #jungkook #he sounded fine #the amount of times he was putting his microphone out to the crowd to sing...a lot #i know his style is not my style at all..just a lot of the cut of a lot of his recent outfits seems a little off #all the crotch grabbing is too much... #(and it's not just him) #i feel like he hasn't grown nor shown much as an artist #the drummer was really into it and having the time of their life tho !

[lilprincegoo]

tear in my heart by samc_love

namjoon/jimin/jungkook

Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Polyamory, Happy Ending, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Majority of Bangtan are in a Rock Band, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Mutual Pining, Rapper Kim Namjoon | RM, Drummer Jeon Jungkook, Dancer Park Jimin

43.3k words

rating: E

In a world where soulmate marks appear when you meet your soulmate, Jeongguk feels hopeless knowing that the love of his life and also best friend, Kim Namjoon, will never be the one for him. Every time they meet he hopes that something appears on their skin, it's the only thing that keeps him from truly aching for his best friend. However pathetic it felt to have a huge crush on his best friend, he thought his silent pining was working pretty well until Park Jimin comes along. Jeongguk is heartbroken when Namjoon finds his soulmate, completely shocked to have to face the reality that someone else would be the love of Namjoon's life. And though his friends try to convince him of things Jeongguk thinks are completely untrue or agree with his wanting to move, as time goes by, Jeongguk realizes that things may be a little more complicated than he thought- love being right around the corner when he was never expecting it.

#ship: ot3 #ship: poly #ship: namjikook #namjoon/jimin/jungkook #au: soulmates #au: band #angst #pining #rapper namjoon #dancer jimin #drummer jungkook #ao3 #getting together #jimin ship #jungkook ship #namjoon ship #bts ficrec #bts fic rec

[sugakookiesbutbadass]

i want to put him in my pocket

he’s just a lil guy

#run bts #run bts tv on air #bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts meme #kpop #kpop meme #jungkook #jeongguk #kookie #nochu #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts jeongguk #jungkook meme #jjk #cute jungkook #drummer jungkook

[crmsndragonwngss]

The duality of my yt suggestions…

#she speaks #they both cute #boys with tattoos amirite #oh hey wait jungkook also plays the drums! #drummers ❤️ #😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 #his birthday is also the day before j-hope’s birthday and they turned the same age lmao #just… the more you know 😂😂😂😂😂😂

[luviestarz]

jeon jungkook fic recs!

❁ romantic dreams | jeon jungkook - @kooktrash (he’s always dreamt of finding his soulmate in some romantic way, bells ringing, birds chirping, maybe even a shine of light over their head. he never imagined to find them living next door to him with absolutely no clue to the extent of the growing infatuation he has toward you until it’s a little too late. hypnotized by your entire existence he finds his dreams and delusions of love to be a little too intense for anyone to bear.)

❁ Toned, Tanned, Fit & Ready - jungkook - @thvhoe (Jungkook loves acting like the word "Pain" doesn't exist in his vocabulary.)

❁ redamancy - jjk (part II) - @lesgetittkookie (jeongguk is just a normal dude with a simple routine. wake up, go to the gym, work his job as a waiter at this posh upscale restaurant in the heart of gangnam before coming home to a night full of video games and ramen (it's delicious and cheap). that routine gets disrupted when he accidentally taps the back of an expensive sports car of one of the richest men in south korea. considering he's broke, he couldn't afford to pay for the damages so the man makes a deal with him by offering him to work at his house as one of the gardeners. jeongguk takes it but wasn't prepared to meet this beautiful young woman who's constantly lounging by the pool, you, the rich man's daughter.)

❁ guys my age | jeon jungkook - @kooktrash (a summer spent at your friend’s place wasn’t something to be anything to look forward to. her hot, young dad would seem to change that for you when you decide a game of teasing would suffice your boredom. you got more than you bargained for when you realize he’s not a fan of games.)

❁ perfect timing. - jungkook - @delugguk (one night in a city full of life; what it's supposed to be a friendly and fun dinner date, ends up with a night full of unrevealed secrets and unexpected pleasure.)

❁ ⤷ seven days — jjk - @jvngkoos (jungkook does everything to make you forgive him for seven days, will you pity him and accept his apology?)

❁ visions - jungkook (yandere) - @trivia-yandere (you’re convinced by your friends to go to a party and let go of the memories of your ex just for one night. unfortunately for you, jungkook doesn’t want to be let go.)

❁ ⤷ got her skippin’ work — jjk - @jvngkoos (trying to go to work is an everyday challenge for you with a boyfriend like jungkook, and it’s one of those mornings where he does anything and everything to keep you in bed with him)

❁ ego season masterlist | jjk - @sparklingchim (your ex-high-school crush is now your fuck buddy. you just gotta make sure that your older brother taehyung, jungkook's best friend, doesn't catch you red-handed.)

❁ Devoted to Trouble - @jeonsweetpea (In which the whole world finds out Jungkook is Spider-Man, but he doesn’t care about anything but you. OR Can you survive seven days of Jungkook pining over you while his identity is exposed to the world?)

❁ RAINY DAYS | JEON JUNGKOOK - PART ONE - @rklve (your life choices left not only yours, but jungkook's heart broken in peaces. now you're back in town, and just like pluto, even if it's cold and dark, he tends to orbit around his sun forever.)

❁ seven days a week | jjk (m) masterlist - @jjkeverlast (jeon jungkook has always had crazy ideas, but wanting to fuck you every day of the week was the last thing you expected.)

❁ blueberry haze | jjk - @caelesjjk (he had been eye fucking you from the stage all night. but you never expected anything to come of it. but when you run into the beautiful blue haired drummer after the show, you decide to let him show you some of his other talents.)

❁ cabin fever | jjk (m) - @jeongi (trapped in a cabin with your ex-best friend jungkook, you’re forced to overcome the fallout between you two.)

#jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook angst #bts angst #jungkook fic recs #bts fic recs #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jungkook series #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook recs #jeon jungkook #jeon jungguk #jungkook imagine #yandere jungkook #jungkook reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x yn

[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. “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, depending on flight time, maybe two nights in London,” 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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Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors :)

Switch Up: You would have never expected your shy, innocent art partner to be the man on stage covered in tattoos. https://bratkook.tumblr.com/post/662339264423559168/switch-up-m-jjk

Two Point Five: Who would have thought booking a handyman from an app would lead to this. Sure, you wish he’d mount you instead of just your television, but you could totally be friends. right? https://www.tumblr.com/bratkook/712991747243933696/two-point-five-m-jjk?source=share

Blueberry Haze: He had been eye fucking you from the stage all night, but you never expected anything to come of it. When you run into the beautiful blue haired drummer after the show, you decide to let him show you some of his other talents. https://caelesjjk.tumblr.com/post/688533554909626368/blueberry-haze-jjk

The Lines Between Us: You’re detective partners who hate each other’s guts and everyone knows it. What they don’t know however, is that there’s so much more between the lines, and he knows damn well how to rearrange your guts too. https://chateautae.tumblr.com/post/657586521765986304/the-lines-between-us-jjk-m

Lonely Hearts Club: Jeon Jeongguk has annoying little brother energy™. You know this deep in your bones. Wedding after wedding, you keep running into him at the goddamn singles’ table, and he just won’t leave you alone. Until you start to wonder… is he your ticket out of the lonely hearts club?  https://dovechim.tumblr.com/post/629792242183323648/lonely-hearts-club-m

Afterglow: You & Jungkook have a heart to heart conversation expressing your dating troubles but end up realizing you might actually be perfect for each other instead. https://www.tumblr.com/euaphoric/722995665966432256/afterglow-pairing-roommatejk-x

Sex Education 1.0: “You want me to… what?” Jungkook chokes on his croissant, and how could he fucking not, with you looking at him with those pleading eyes, asking for something that he knows would get him into jail. Well, maybe not like actual jail. But definitely the Bro Code Jail. The jail where only bros who broke the Bro code went to. https://extravaguk.tumblr.com/post/633981219791601664/sex-education

Concealed Weapon: Jungkook turns out not to be quite who you thought he was, and your reaction takes you both by surprise. https://gimmesumsuga.tumblr.com/post/173739996728/concealed-weapon-m

Woman On Top: “Fuck, Jungkook,” you breathed, trying your best to keep your voice no louder than a whisper. Your nails dragged across the vanity surface as you tried to cling to something. https://heartbeatan.tumblr.com/post/187079688752/table-of-contents-woman-on-top-return-to-jungkook

Blue: You find yourself nostalgic over blue. Happy because of it, reminiscent because of it, longing because of it. That summer with Jungkook was blue. https://honeyedhoseok.tumblr.com/post/652288170904469504/blue-masterlist

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[onlyswan]

summary: in which you drive jungkook mad but you make his heart beat.

idol!jungkook x f!reader, est. relationship / fluff, suggestive, a pinch of angst / word count: 5k

content/warnings: tried sumn different so this is mainly from jungkook’s pov :D !! drummer!oc ur so cool & i’m stealing u from ur bf 🏃— mention of a 10 yr age gap between jk & a guy who likes oc (he’s hella pissed off) ; mentions of (car) s^x ; allusion to a bl^wj^b ; jk just got home from tour & oc is tipsy, needy, & dramatic as hell T_T ; oc /briefly/ touches jk while he’s driving & he /nearly/ loses his shit & crashes the car (he doesn’t) (i’m kidding) + to the anon who wanted to jk’s cheek scar to get a kissy here u go 🥺

> in which masterlist!

note: oc is so shot glass of tears coded especially in this… i’m glad i’m posting this after golden came out just so i could say it 🥰 this takes place after this drabble sooo the end of oct 2018 <3 if u’ve read the prev drabble too, this was when jk said those exact words in the past 🥺 wrote this in the middle of hell week so i was half out of my mind :'] as always feedback & reblogs rrr always appreciated !! 🥺

—

jungkook loves the sound of rain— the gentle knocks on every surface of the earth has always been a lullaby even during daylight.

tonight is a different story, however. it is defeaning, terrifying even. he can barely see what is infront of him, spare the occasional headlights blazing across the slippery roads. his umbrella is being stolen away by the harsh gusts of wind and the mud stains on his sneakers are well-hidden by the plain black.

and yes, he is tired; and yes, this is hard, but that is the end of it.

you’re exactly where you told him you’d wait, far behind the edge of the roof where the rainwater falls from and splashes on the ground. you stand out in his blue oversized shirt, one that he purposely left behind in your closet so he could have something else to wear when he sleeps over.

you’re too busy typing on your phone to see him crossing the parking lot; he feels his very own vibrate in the pocket of his sweatpants. however, his giddy smile fades when a man exits through the entrance door and approaches you with a red umbrella. his strides become slightly hurried then, as he watches you politely decline it with that heart-fluttering smile of yours everybody adores.

“oh no, really, i’m fine. you might need it later! my boyfriend is already coming to pick me up anyway.”

jungkook acts cool. he tucks his hand in the pocket of his sweatpants, tries to make himself appear bigger because he realizes that he would be inches shorter than the man if not for the platforms of his shoes.

“____, baby!”

upon hearing your name coming from the lips of your lover, your face lights up even brighter.

“jungkook!”

you greet him with an embrace, jumping into his arms before he can properly set down his umbrella on the ground.

“yah, yah-yah! be careful!” he chuckles as he wraps his arms around your waist to catch you, peering down to check how high your boots are for you to be running and jumping around freely.

“hey, i’m going back inside- there’s more customers coming in. make it home safe, alright?”

the stranger tries to catch your attention, and jungkook’s protectiveness swiftly kicks in when he lays a hand on you and slides it down to your lower back. your boyfriend turns you away from the unprompted touch by pulling your body closer to his side, and he is unable to control how his eyebrows knit together in annoyance.

he wasn’t planning on giving much thought to the presence of a man around you. he knows better than that. but he has never heard about this one, which raises the question of who the fuck is he to freely touch you like that?

“oh- alright! thank you, jun!”

“you better take care of ____, man. it’s dangerous around here during this time.”

he receives a rather heavy and condescending pat on the shoulder, and so, with his annoyance bubbling worse, he wears a passive aggressive smile on his face.

“yeah, of course i am,”

jun’s nostrils flare as he witnesses you sneakily slide your hands underneath jungkook’s hoodie in search of warmth.

“i’m here now, so there’s no need to worry about my girlfriend anymore.”

he nods, then forces himself to smile. “that’s good, then.”

“yeah, thanks. we’re leaving.”

“oh, okay. have a nice night!”

“you too,”

he turns on his heel and returns inside the busy establishment— but not before jungkook made sure that he saw the bruises on his knuckles that he got from his boxing sessions.

his jaw clenches as he glares at the door.

is he being petty? sure, to hell with that. he doesn’t care. he’s always been one to trust his gut, and he has a bad feeling.

he is met by a love-drunk smile when his undivided attention is at last given to you, in the form of fond eyes and affectionate strokes of your hair.

“who was that?”

“eh, new bartender,” you shrug with disinterest. “hm, i think he’s 31…? he’s nice but he keeps talking about wrestling.”

he raises an eyebrow at the mention of his age, while your lips form a sad pout.

what the hell? he thought he would be 25 at most.

“the tv has been in the same channel for the past two weeks because of him. it’s all i’ve been seeing! i don’t like it-” you whine in distress, quite frankly, a little traumatized.

an endeared smile is coaxed out of him at your adorableness, how your speech is a little slurred and how you’re looking at him like you’re begging him to do something about it.

“makes me nervous,”

his dominant hand closes into a fist.

if he only he had known. should’ve fucking punched the guy, give him a taste of what he seems to be a huge fan of.

“let’s watch something calming when we get home, how about that?”

you nod your head, eyes that twinkle with eagerness fluttering shut when he leans in for a much awaited kiss. how sweet, he feels a little more alive than before. he can smell it, even taste it— the peach margarita you started sipping on before the band’s first set. concocted by jun, he presumes. he pulls away with a small smile, licking his lips for the traces of you that clung to him.

out of the blue, you burst into a fit of giggles, weak knees buckling as your weight crashes on him.

“i missed you!”

“babe, are you seriously drunk?” he chuckles, holding you with a secure grip around your torso.

“maaaybe tipsy…? i was pretending not to be.” you stand on your tip-toes to nuzzle your face against his neck, mumbling sheepishly. “only trust you.”

—

“i should’ve accepted the umbrella.” you grunt childishly, body going limp on jungkook’s back, except for the arm holding up the umbrella that shields the both of you from the pouring rain.

“yah!” he scolds you, clearly not pleased with the words that just came from your mouth. “what does that mean?”

“i’m embarrassed! they’re probably feeling bad for you.”

the last sentence comes out as a whisper, pertaining to the side glances you’ve been attracting from strangers as you make your way to your boyfriend’s car.

unfortunately, he had to park somewhere far because the restobar’s parking lot was already full.

you jokingly complained about staining your white boots with dirt and mud, but you instantly regretted it when he bent down, signalling you to ride on his back without an ounce of hesitation.

“our shoulders always get wet when we share an umbrella,” he said. “if i carry you, wouldn’t it be better?”

“embarrassing? some would even say romantic!”

something peculiar happens then— when your lips ghost over his left cheek, planting an affectionate kiss there that lasts for seconds. you pull away with a smacking sound, giggly and bubbly, might be his favorite version of you.

“i love you,” you hum, grasping the umbrella upright before it could tip over.

he doesn’t know if you did it on purpose or not, kissing him precisely where his scar is, but his heart jumps in his chest when he feels it begin to throb.

as if the wound from his childhood has come alive. as if, once again, he is bleeding as he glares at his older brother, and he still wants to play games on the computer oblivious to the fact that it would leave a permanent scar, a brand new landmark on his body.

you mistake his silence for something else.

you frown, warm breath tickling his neck as you quietly ask. “are you still mad at me?”

he sighs, vision landing on the ground as his walking pace slows down. “no? i was wrong. i shouldn’t have questioned your decision in the first place… why would i be mad?”

you started playing the drums for your friend’s band two months ago, just as soon as he left for tour. you volunteered after witnessing how distraught they were when their drummer vanished without a trace. he learned that it used to be a hobby of yours from childhood until early teenage years, playing the drums, but it was robbed from you when your father took his instruments with him when he abandoned your home for another.

he was pleasantly surprised when he learned about it, recounted all the times your hands and fingers were drumming on any sort of surface and his head naturally bopped to the beat, but then again, you never brought it up.

isn’t ____ so cool? he would proudly say when he flaunts you to his friends, even the protocol team, who have never seen him so happy.

three times a week, from nine in the evening until midnight, your phone was propped up on an empty table infront of the stage, and him, on the other side of the globe, excitedly watched you from backstage while he was getting ready for their own show. some other times, he was in his hotel room, or the private jet. his patience has been tested by crappy wifi, nosy and noisy people, and his earphones that stopped working while you looked insanely attractive grooving to ‘why’d you only call me when you’re high?’ as you effortlessly played the drums. he showered you with compliments as you did for him. you’re working hard so he must do the same.

he arrived home from tour the other day, spent the rest of its hours sleeping. yesterday, he waited for you at school and then at work like a lost puppy, slept on your bed (if he’s being honest, the two of you didn’t do much sleeping) then woke up at 9am for work.

and he tried his best, he really did, to get out of the company early enough to catch you playing a song or two. after all, it was your last day at the job.

much as you enjoyed reconnecting with an old flame— loved the overflowing tips that came from those who were amazed by your talent (well, there were also those who were just trying to get into your pants), the moment that the old drummer got down on his knees begging to be taken back by his best friends, just like how you became a part of the band, you voluntarily stepped down.

jungkook didn’t agree with this decision. he didn’t understand why you’d sacrifice something that makes you happy for a person who fucked up and wasted what they had. you went back and forth over it on the phone until you cried, told him that it wasn’t easy for you, and he couldn’t hold you in his arms or kiss your face. he could only apologize, and it even felt insincere doing it through a screen.

maybe he’s only relieved that you no longer need to be around a man an entire decade older than he is, who is obviously interested in you and serves you alcohol drinks. no, that doesn’t sit right with him. he needs jun, or whatever the fuck his true name is, to stay very far away from his baby.

“i’m just sad that i never got to watch you perform in person.”

you rest your cheek on his shoulder, heavy eyelids slowly blinking as the headlights of a black van blindsides you.

what the fuck. too bright.

“me too…”

—

“i’m bored,” you release a dramatic sigh, stealing a glimpse of jungkook at the driver’s seat, just to see if you caught his attention like you intended.

his eyes are trained on the dashboard, however, focused on the navigation guide displayed on his phone. he isn’t very familiar with this part of the city. it took him more than an hour to arrive at the address you sent him, including the time he spent in the middle of traffic.

“forty-eight minutes, then we can do whatever you want.”

“whatever i want?”

he slows down the car, briefly turning his head to find you expectantly looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“of course,” he laughs, taking one hand off the wheel to squish your cheeks together. “just tell me what it is, baby.”

he doesn’t catch the sad look that flashes across your face after you lose his touch.

“then i’ll tell you when i figure out what i want,” you say quietly.

“i thought you already had something in mind?”

“nope,” you answer with yet another sigh.

you choose to stare out the window in silence, body completely slumping into your seat in defeat.

jungkook’s senses are sharp, or he likes to believe so. “are you okay?”

“i’m okay,”

“you sure?”

“hmm,” you hum curtly, and then you close your eyes, so he decides not to press further despite wanting to.

he meets a red traffic light not long after that. and so, he hurriedly grabs the black fleece blanket in the backseat. he envelopes you in it, crossing the distance between you to softly press his lips onto yours for a goodnight kiss. he feels you respond, albeit lazily, and he smirks cockily when you lift yourself up to chase him for one more, please— desperately, to get your fill of goodnight kisses from the many nights that you missed it.

the time seems to tick excruciatingly slow now that you’re quiet. a minute is multiplied by a hundred. the steady rhythm of your breathing keeps him sane throughout dark avenues and encounters with reckless drivers of the midnight scene.

he missed you. he missed you so much, and he knows that you’re tired from university, and tutoring high school students in english, and playing the drums for more than two hours… but he selfishly wishes that you’re awake right now so he can make up for the two months that you were apart.

be careful of what you wish for, they said.

jungkook should know better by now.

“i can’t sleep,” he hears you whisper in a dulcet tone that indirectly tells him you’re in need of some love… but he isn’t given the chance to act upon that request because you’re already all over what it is that you need.

he swallows thickly, glancing down at your hand that has somehow found its way to his inner thigh— zeroing in on your red nails, can feel them faintly grazing his skin.

you’re so pretty. everywhere.

even when naked and bare.

no, especially. it’s all he can think about.

he can draw you from memory.

“____,” he utters your name through gritted teeth, heart beginning to race a thousand miles per second in his chest.

the effect of your teasing touch is instantaneous, slowly inching closer and closer to where his growing erection is. his eyes remain focused on the road, but he fears that he’ll start thinking with his dick soon if you carry on with this act a few seconds longer.

“shit, not now, baby- please- not while i’m driving.”

your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, poorly concealing a self-satisfied smirk, and you pretend not to hear a single word from his plea.

a minx, that’s what you are, always causing trouble and blurring lines in his eyes.

“____, i’m not joking around. don’t make me mad-”

his warning is cut short by-

“fuck… fuck,” he curses, filter flying out the window once he feels you tracing the outline of his hard-on, the feather-light touch of your fingers smoothly gliding across the fabric of his sweatpants, and he completely loses it when your soft palm caresses his cock, so gentle that it feels almost innocent.

okay, so he couldn’t feel it because you weren’t skin-to-skin, but he knows that your hands are soft, can feel his imagination running wilder because he has memorized the way they feel on most parts of his body.

you’re so incredibly nasty and evil for this— squeezing him lightly, taking advantage of how sensitive he’s gotten, making him tremble as pleasure shoots up his spine. his breath stutters in his lungs and he unconsciously pushes harder on the gas.

and although it means fighting every fiber of his being that painfully yearns for more, he seizes your wrist in an iron grip, placing your hand over the gearstick while his sits heavy on top of yours.

“____! behave! you’re going to get us killed!”

he watches you jut out your bottom lip through the rearview mirror, eyes hazy with lust staring down at where your hand used to be, and then his handsome face. he is evidently flushed, honey skin dusted with a rosy pink. all the way to the tips of his ears, down to his neck.

while he’s driving? really?

doesn’t this only happen in wet dreams?

you are not real.

“then pull over,” you plead. “please?”

he releases a shaky breath. you’re always so needy with alcohol in your system, drove him into total insanity while he couldn’t be here to give you what you wanted.

“no, you need to learn how to be patient… told you we can do whatever you want when we get home, right?”

wrong move.

the silence returns, and just when he thought that you went back to your journey to slumber, the sound of your sniffles fill the car.

jungkook’s heart breaks into a million pieces.

also, he wants to slam his head against the steering wheel.

you make it so fucking hard to resist you; you always get what you want. it becomes much harder when he is the subject of your desire and he loves being loved.

“haven’t i been patient enough…? i missed you so much.”

“and i missed you too!” he brings your intertwined hands to his lips, pressing them on your skin. “fuck, you have no idea how much… please, don’t cry.”

“then pull over,” you stubbornly insist, and he is so close to driving this car into a lamp post. “fuck me at the backseat.”

“can’t,” he mumbles, sounding almost pained, and he is. he wants you so bad, it hurts. “we’re going to have to do it without protection.”

“what do you mean?” you exclaim.

you rip your hand away from his, not wasting time in unlocking the glove compartment, and a sound of sheer disappointment escapes from your mouth as you collapse back on your seat.

“jungkook, i hate you!”

“well right now i hate myself too!” he cries out in frustration. “i didn’t have the time to buy more, okay?”

“and there’s not one in your wallet?”

“babe, are you serious?!”

“what?!”

somehow, his hands still expertly swivels the steering wheel as the car meets a curve.

but he feels dizzy. the ghost of your touch is still there, a promise of carnal pleasure unfulfilled.

“stop the car,” you say out of the blue, rather calmly, and that terrifies the shit out of him.

he swallows the lump in his throat, eyes switching between you and the road in panic. “huh?”

“i said stop the car, i’m stepping out.”

“babe, come on,” he moans, ruined and tormented. he reaches for your hand but you scoot further away from him, and he ignores the way his heart drops to his stomach as he kneads your exposed thigh instead. “please, don’t be like this. i just got home.”

“jungkook! if you don’t let me get off this car right now, i swear!”

the urgency embedded in your threatening voice leaves your boyfriend with no choice but to pull over to the side of the street as soon as he gets the chance.

he carries on to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“baby, stop being stu-”

he tries to reach for you, but he is rudely ignored as you hop off the car and slam the door shut on his face.

“…bborn…”

he blinks.

he inhales. he exhales.

and then he buries his face in his hands to scream… as quietly as possible.

“what the fuck was in that margarita?!”

—

jungkook steps out of the car worried sick about you. now wearing a black bucket hat, his head whips in different directions in search for the familiar shape of your body, your hair, your shirt that is his, anything.

his arm rests on top of the car door, the other on the roof, fingers drumming on it anxiously as he chews on his bottom lip.

there are mostly restaurants here, it seems. some are already closed, some are still lights on. not far away, he hears a karaoke place bursting with music and laughter. he looks up and he finds that the night sky remains barren of stars; there’s no guidance from the heavens that will lead him to you.

except for the sound of your sweet voice calling out his name.

he turns around, and he knows it’s going to sound extremely silly, but damn, you make his life feel like a movie— because you’re jogging towards him, and the universe begins moving in slow motion. perhaps it is to prevent him from falling on his knees in relief, because he genuinely thought that you already went home on your own like the stubborn brat that you are.

“____, where did you go?! you can’t just run off like that! seriously, that was not nice!”

“i forgot my wallet!” you squeal as you halt infront of him, slapping your forehead as a way to scold yourself. “i found a hotteok cart!”

his anger quickly dissipitates. he scans your face, mouth agape in bewilderment.

you, screaming at him to stop the car because there was a sighting of your favorite snack? makes sense.

he dishes out the wallet from his pocket. “wha- i thought you… you didn’t have money?”

you shake your head to answer his question.

“then how are you already eating?”

you take another bite from the hot hotteok you’re holding in a paper cup, and then you shrug.

“i was already eating when i realized it,” you point at yourself, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “so he let me run back here. does it look like this face would steal?”

“you’re impossible!” he bursts out laughing, the unique sound of his joy harmonizing with the mundane noises of the city.

he is thoroughly amused and in awe of your undeniable charm never failing to work its magic. if you just gave it a shot, you might be even better at him at his job.

you’re pliant as he captures your wrist, tugging you away with him so he can lock the car.

“i bought three, by the way.” you note as the two of you start walking, with you clinging to his side. “the last three then mister can go home.”

you put the hotteok near his mouth, and he pauses to take a big bite. “have you even had dinner?”

“just the four margaritas- they were yummy! or was it five?”

he clicks his tongue in disappointment, but he doesn’t get to say anything more about it because you’ve reached the hotteok cart, and he’s already handing the vendor the money.

“thank you!” he bows his head politely as he accepts the remaining two you mentioned earlier, handing them over to you.

“no, this is yours.” you speak with tenderness, giving back one of the cups to him. “then we’ll split the third one. it’s really good!”

the vendor secretly watches the interaction with a fond smile as he packs up to finally, finally end his long day working at the busy streets of seoul.

—

you’re sat together on the hood of jungkook’s car as you share a midnight snack. with caring hands, you rip the hotteok apart in perfect halves, offering the other to your lover. he accepts it in between his teeth.

“do you want drums as your christmas gift?”

“love,” you search for the words to say as you chew the food in your mouth. “i can barely fit in my apartment. where am i going to put a drum set…? not to mention that i can’t even cry without my neighbor hearing it.”

his shoulders drop in dejection, and you rub your boyfriend’s back in an attempt to comfort him.

“you must really want to see me play, don’t you?”

“i’m dying to,” he says in pure jungkook fashion, tone dramatic and thick with an accent that is entirely his. “i can’t believe there were regulars who saw you every night, while i, your boyfriend, didn’t even see you once…! even that fucking bartender… this- this can’t be right! do you think this makes sense? no, right?”

“aw, my baby,” you coo at him, jutting out your bottom lip as you tenderly cup his face.

“i don’t trust him, by the way,” he scoffs. “as much as possible, stay away from him when you visit, alright…? if i see him touching you one more time, i don’t know what i’ll end up doing to him.”

“i don’t like him either,” you giggle. “so that’s easy.”

he stares at your bloodshot eyes. damn it, you haven’t sobered up.

“____, i’m serious. he’s weird. i’m worried about you but i can’t always be here to protect you.”

you blink at him innocently. “i am too! serious!”

“you promise me?”

“i promise!”

he nods, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he gets lost in the sea of his own thoughts. “i should talk to your friends about this, too. is that okay?”

“if that will ease your mind,” you half-smile, heart fluttering in your chest because you feel so cherished.

comfortable silence follows suit.

the hotteok is still soft and warm and sweet. if your love had to be delivered to his doorstep, it would in the form of your favorite food.

he sighs to gain more of your sympathy, basking in the attention he’s receiving from you. he missed this. he missed you. he sounds like a broken record, but it’s true.

“come ooon, don’t be sad! i’ll make it up to you! but it’s a surprise!”

“surprise?” he eyes you with suspicion. “what surprise?”

“just trust me, alright?”

you poke his cheek where his dimples are, and you witness them pop out as he copies your contagious smile.

“can i make a guess?”

“nope!”

you fit the remaining piece of your hotteok in your mouth, jumping off the hood of the car. you stand before him as you wipe your hands clean with a small paper napkin.

“don’t you dare. if you guess it right then my plans will be ruined!”

—

you’re back on the passenger seat to travel the remaining twenty-seven minutes to your apartment.

jungkook melts into the tenderness of your touch as he drives. you’re tracing the toned muscles of his arms; stroking his hair, his face, and the smell of the sticky brown sugar from the hotteok still lingers on your skin.

“when are you going to start getting tattoos?” you wonder out loud as he intertwines your fingers together on top of his thigh. “i think you’d look so pretty.”

“i’m planning on it.”

his heart skips a beat at the thought of you remembering that he wants his skin artfully inked as you absentmindedly distracted yourself with it.

he licks his lips, smiling as he looks over at you. “you really think so? pretty?”

“hm, hot, too,” you stick your tongue out playfully, and he snorts out a laugh. “but as long as you’re happy, then nothing else matters.”

“of course- wait, yah! you still need to eat dinner.” he reminds you once he recognizes the path you’re taking.

a grocery store is not more than a kilometer away, if his memory serves him right.

“what do you want? i don’t mind cooking.”

“for you to fuck me, that’s what i want. you won’t mind that, too?”

oh my fucking god.

he wishes you were passed out drunk instead so he wouldn’t have to suffer this battle between self-control and his insatiable appetite for you.

“baby, aren’t you still sore from this morning?”

“a little,” he notices you squeezing your thighs together from his peripheral, and along with it, the bruises on your knees from when you worshipped his body last night. “but i want you.”

your giggles in reaction to him frustratedly running his fingers through his hair seems to only fuel the dirty thoughts in his head. he uncomfortably shifts in his seat to adjust himself.

“can you just bring it up when we get near your house? you’re killing me over here!”

“but why? i’m having fun.” you bring your tangled hands over to your side, peppering the back of his hand with innocent kisses. “i love you. you’re so cute.”

“are you… are you seriously calling me cute after what you just asked me to fuck you?”

his disbelief is challenged by your amusement.

“why not? being one dimensional? boring. being different things all at once? sexy.”

jungkook doesn’t need to see you play the drums to know that you are the only one capable of making his heart beat like this. to feel it pounding, it turns out there’s another way besides performing, he can just be alone with you. a different type of addictive exhilaration. he isn’t at the top of the world; he free falls as it revolves around you.

you always know the right words to say, because right now, he is preening. he’s wearing a big smile, the kind that looks like he’s laughing, but he’s not— almost. the kind that reaches his eyes, shapes them into little crescent moons.

how did he get so lucky?

rehearsals in the morning be damned, he will be fucking you good all night.

you make a noise of confusion when the car swerves into the trees at the side of the road.

“what are we doing here?”

jungkook only spares you a glance. “get in the backseat, baby.”

—

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#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #bts imagine #bts fanfic

[caelesjjk]

blueberry haze | jjk

⟶title: blueberry haze

⟶ au: strangers to lovers

⟶ trope: one night stand

⟶ pairing: drummer!jungkook x f. reader

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ genre: smut

⟶wc: 6.6k

⟶warnings: little bit of dom!jk, mentions of drug use (marijuana), smut in the forms of: some breath play, choking, oral ( m & f receiving), lots of praise, some bondage type things, touch denial, unprotected sex (don’t do this, be smart)

⟶ summary: he had been eye fucking you from the stage all night. but you never expected anything to come of it. but when you run into the beautiful blue haired drummer after the show, you decide to let him show you some of his other talents.

⟶ authors note: this was supposed to be a quick little thing but you see where that’s ended up lol. This is some very self indulgent smut yall, not much plot for real. But it’s blueberry koo, and he’s my fav. Hope you enjoy, and as always send the feedback my way!

What was his deal?

The ridiculously good looking, blue haired drummer on stage was looking right at you. And he had been most of the night. You couldn’t help but stare back at him, it was impossible not to.

“He’s eye fucking you.” Your friend said into your ear as the band came back on stage for their finale.

“Is not.” But you knew he was. He was looking at you again already as he sat down on the stool behind his drum kit.

Big, veiny biceps gripped the drumsticks in his hands, slinging them around between his fingers effortlessly. You watched as he pushed the blue hair off of his forehead once more before the song started and he became immersed in the music. He was a sight to see.

“Whatever you say.” Your friend teased and you elbowed her side in hopes of making her shut up while you enjoyed the last song of the night.

Any small ounce of hope you had that the sexy drummer was going to pull you backstage after the show was quickly doused when the lights came on and the venue staff was ushering everyone outside. You wanted to punch yourself for even thinking it was a possibility. He was somewhat famous. He could have whoever he wanted, why on earth would he want you?

“I’m far too tired for any parties.” You tell your friend who has been tirelessly trying to convince you to go to the bars downtown. “You should call Mina or Cher, I’m sure they’re already there.” She pouts but finally agrees to let you head home to sulk.

You pull your jacket a little tighter around your body as you walk past some shops and restaurants. They’re all mostly closed at this point in the night, but some of the displays in the windows are comforting to see.

Dexters Diner comes into view just up ahead, the yellow lights on top flicker in and out as you get closer to the small building. You could suddenly smell coffee drifting into your nostrils, and without a second thought, your hand is on the door handle of the diner, pulling it open.

There’s hardly anyone inside. A few tables of rowdy drunks from the bars and a few night shift workers having their first meal of the day. You smile at the older woman behind the front counter who’s wearing a pikachu tshirt and her hair in braids.

“What’ll it be, sweetheart?” She says as you sit down on one of the stools.

“Coffee. And maybe one of those cinnamon rolls from the case, please?” You take off your coat when she nods and heads off to gather your order.

This is just what you needed to wind down. And in most cases coffee would do the opposite, but you know the warmth of it will make you sleepy in no time.

You smile again when she sets down the chipped coffee cup and oversized cinnamon roll in front of you. The two things together smell like absolute heaven. You breathe it all in once more before picking up the cinnamon roll and bringing it to your mouth for the biggest bite you can manage.

“What are the odds?” A voice says behind you, making you freeze mid-bite. You turn around, cinnamon roll still in your mouth to face the voice.

Oh no. Please no.

Blue haired drummer boy is standing right in front of you in all his beautiful glory.

“H-hi.” You mumble, realizing you have the huge cinnamon roll in your mouth, your eyes shoot open wide and you quickly scramble to turn back and sit the pastry on its plate and wipe your mouth.

“You’re adorable.” He says, his hand gently touching your shoulder and turning you back around to face him. “Didn’t think I was going to see you again.”

“Here I am.” You say stupidly, internally facepalming.

“Here you are.” He smiles and tilts his head curiously. “I’m Jungkook. What’s your name, cinnamon roll?”

“It’s _____. Nice to meet you, Jungkook.” You can’t believe this is actually happening.

“How’s the coffee?” He asks, sitting down on the stool next to you.

“Good I think. I haven’t actually drank it yet.” You turn back to face the counter, taking the coffee cup in your hands.

“Don’t let me stop you.” Jungkook slides his leather jacket off his shoulders, revealing a clean white shirt underneath, the sleeve of tattoos looking so stark against the white of the shirt.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting when you started talking to rockstar Jungkook, but it wasn’t this. The conversation was flowing so nicely. He was surprisingly funny and full of all kinds of useless facts. The kind that were so ridiculous that they were interesting. He seemed sweet surprisingly…sweet.

“Did you know it takes 700 grapes to make just one bottle of wine?” Jungkook says, popping a grape into his mouth from the fruit bowl he had ordered.

“You don’t say?” You start to laugh, but then feel one of Jungkook's feet rub against yours. Was he playing footsie with you?

You take the hint, crossing your legs and letting your foot glide up the side of his calf. You can tell he’s pretending not to notice, but the tattooed hand that was resting on the countertop is now ghosting over your own calf.

“Did you know a group of bunnies is called a fluffle?” Jungkook lets just his finger tips softly run over your knee.

“That doesn’t seem true.” It barely comes out a whisper. Your thighs squeeze together as he continues his touches.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asks after he notices the change in your voice. You look at him blankly for a moment before responding.

“Y-yeah. I mean sure, what do you have in mind?” You sit down your coffee cup with a shaky hand. Jungkook stands up from his seat, then leans down to cage you against the counter, his mouth coming to your ear.

“Each and every thought I’ve had about you since the moment I saw you in the crowd tonight, have been completely improper. And I would very much like to take you to my hotel room so I can show you what I’ve been thinking.” His words melt into your skin and find their way directly between your legs where they start a burning need.

“Okay.” Is all you can manage to say, eyes fluttering closed when you feel his tongue brush the shell of your ear.

“Good girl.” Jungkook whispers in your ear, thousands of goosebumps blanketing your skin in an instant. “Let me grab my stuff and we can head out.”

The jeans he’s wearing must have been painted on and he could not possibly be wearing any underwear with them, which was breath stealing all on its own.

“Jesus Christ.” You don’t mean to say it out loud, but of course he heard you.

“Like what you see?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and you can’t help the ridiculous giggle that escapes you.

“I’ve had worse views.” You try to play it cool, taking another drink of the coffee that was lukewarm at this point. Jungkook laughs, then pulls his sweaty blue hair up into a messy bun on the back of his head. It should not be legal to be this hot.

“Come on then pretty girl, I’ve got other views to show you.” He quickly puts on his jacket and offers you his hand. You let him help you up and into your jacket as well.

There’s a sleek black car waiting around the backside of the diner and the two of you slide into the back seat. You aren’t sure what to do, so you reach for your seatbelt.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook reaches across you to stop your hand, suddenly in your space.

“Buckling my seatbelt? You know…safety.” You let him take your hand off of the seatbelt while he laughs.

“You’re adorable.” His eyes hold yours while his hand slips onto your thigh, gripping it tightly so that he can then slide you across the leather seat and closer to him. “But I have other ideas for the ride home.” You hope he doesn’t see how harshly you have to swallow, your throat feeling so tight.

“What ideas?” You let one of your hands rest on his thigh, touching the frayed strings of the tears in his jeans.

“First things first.” Jungkook places his pointer finger beneath your chin and lifts your face up to look at him. “Can I kiss you?”

Your cheeks heat up immediately. He’s so unexpected. He radiates that cocky rockstar vibe, but he’s also sweet enough to ask permission before he kisses you. The whiplash might be your undoing.

“Yes.” You instinctively lean forward and he meets you halfway with that angelic smile of his on his face.

His lips are too soft. Too perfect. But they mold to yours and steal the breath from your lungs. His presence engulfs you and takes over all of your senses. Right now, there’s nothing else but Jungkook.

Coffee flavored tongue swipes against your lips and you want to taste it again so badly, dipping your tongue into his mouth until he hums in satisfaction. His tattooed hand slides up your arm and onto your shoulder until it reaches your neck, his thumb sliding up and down the column of your throat.

“Tell me something, pretty girl.” His mouth stays close to yours, lips still brushing as he speaks. “How do you feel about my hand around your throat?” His words take you aback for a moment until you realize what it is he wants to do.

“I’m okay with it.” You wrap a hand around his wrist and move his fingers into place at your throat.

“You’re not so innocent, are you baby?” Jungkook smiles wickedly and swallows your reply with his mouth. Kissing you roughly, noses and lips smashing against the others, tongues licking sloppily.

Jungkook applies a bit of pressure with his hand on your throat, testing to see how much you like. It doesn’t hurt, it feels amazing. You take his wrist again pushing harder and with more pressure, his fingers tightening and gripping the skin.

“More.” You whine into his kisses until he pulls back to look into your eyes.

“You’re getting me so hard right now.” You chance a look down at his denim covered crotch, eyeing the plentiful bulge forming there.

Of course his dick was huge, there couldn’t be any flaws with this man.

Jungkook begins tightening his hand again but doesn’t kiss you again. He wants to watch your face while he controls whether you take a breath or not. You swallow, barely able to get the saliva down your throat before your eyes start to roll to the back of your head. Jungkook moans and removes his hand, his mouth immediately devouring yours as you take in a long breath.

“You’re going to be so much fun.” Jungkook kisses down your neck, paying attention to the spots where his fingers just were. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” You answered too quickly, but he seems to find it amusing, smiling and pressing a kiss to your lips once more.

Your pussy is absolutely dripping. You can feel the stickiness between your legs and it’s almost embarrassing how wet you are after just a little breath play. What was going to happen once he was inside you? You shiver at the thought.

The car comes to a stop around the back of one of the nicest hotels in town. You’ve never stayed here, but you know this is where important people stay all the time. You start to feel the nerves creep back in at how famous Jungkook might actually be.

Jungkook opens the car door and starts to get out but notices that you haven’t moved to do the same.

“You know, I can have the driver take you home. We can stop right now.” He slides back into the car and brings your face around to look at him. “Because if you come upstairs I’m going to ruin you. I won’t stop until I’m convinced you’ve been so thoroughly fucked that you think of me every time you even think about being with another man.”

You take a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut when he presses a feather light kiss to your jaw.

“I don’t want to stop.” You’re barely able to muster out the words.

“Good girl.” He laces his tattooed fingers through yours and helps you out of the car. You expect him to let go of your hand as you walk inside, but he doesn’t. He holds your hand until you reach the elevator.

Once inside and the doors have sealed shut, Jungkook pushes you against the mirrored wall. You gasp out loud when his hips roll against yours, the hard outline of his cock more prominent than before.

“So fucking hard.” Another harsh roll of his hips, almost lifting your feet off the ground. Your breathing is rapid and uneven, the anticipation absolutely killing you. “Tell me how wet you are, baby. Please.” The words pour into your ear, all warm and inviting.

“Soaked.” You manage to croak out. Jungkook groans and slowly rolls his hips so that his cock rubs against your clit that was begging to be touched.

Just as you’re about to beg him to touch you, the elevator dings and the doors slide open to the floor jungkook had selected. You suddenly realize that anyone could see the two of you and you start to move out of his hold. But he has other ideas.

Jungkook grabs beneath your thighs and hoists them around his waist, making you squeal in the process. He walks out of the elevator with you in his arms towards his hotel room at the end of the hall.

“Jungkook…put me down.” Your eyes shoot open wide when you notice an older couple walking towards you. “Jungkook!” You gently push against his chest but he doesn’t let go.

“You think they care if I’m holding you? They were probably crazy back in their day.” Jungkook squeezes the globes of your ass in each hand as you pass the older couple, they don’t seem to care but you still feel blush rush to your cheeks. “Should we ask them if they want to watch?” He wiggles his eye brows and you smack his chest.

“No way! Are you crazy?” You half laugh.

“Not into sharing? That’s cool pretty girl, you don’t have to share me with anyone.” Jungkook props you up against the hotel room door while he digs for the key card in his pocket.

“You can put me down.” You say again.

“Hmm. No.” He finds the card and opens the door, lifting you higher in his arms before he carries you into the room. You roll your eyes, but let him continue to do it.

You look around at the room when he finally sets you down in front of the unmade bed. There were two open suitcases in front of the window, clothes scattered about. Some empty beer bottles and ash trays sat untouched on the night stand on one side of the bed. Typical hotel room of a traveling rockstar.

What wasn’t so typical though, were the comic books laying around in the rumpled blankets on the bed. You tilt your head with curiosity and pick one up, gently flipping through some of the pages.

“You like to read comics?” You ask Jungkook, who has started trying to shove things into his suitcases.

“From time to time. Something to keep my mind busy on tour.” He shrugs a little as he roughly moves the suitcases around. You smile to yourself and sit the comic back down before turning to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“You don’t need to do that.” Referring to him trying to clean up the mess in the room. Jungkook seems to listen, stretching his arms above his head before coming to stand in front of you where you sit on the bed.

“I need a shower. How about you, pretty girl?” His tattooed hand gently wraps around the back of your neck as he bends at the waist to be face to face with you.

“You want me to shower with you?” You realize how stupid it was to ask, but it was too late to take it back now. Jungkook laughs quietly.

“Amongst other things.” He smiles, lips the perfect color of pink, silver hoop pierced through the corner. “For example…” His hand slides up and around to your face, cupping your cheek and ghosting his thumb over your jaw. “I’d like to see your lips wrapped around my cock…fuck, that would be a sight to see.” He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and groans under his breath.

Jungkook stands up straight, but keeps his hand cupping your jaw, watching you as you think about what to do next. You keep your eyes on his for a moment, but then almost on their own, your hands find his denim clad thighs. You rub up the front of them a few times, but not touching his crotch that was getting harder by the moment.

“Be good, baby. Don’t tease me.” Jungkook sighs, thumbing at your bottom lip.

You take the opportunity to wrap your lips around his thumb instead, keeping your hands on his thighs. You suck his digit softly at first, tongue licking the length of it. You’re practically drooling around his thumb in anticipation of having his much bigger cock in your mouth.

Your hands move up his thighs to the button and zipper of his jeans, undoing them both. When you bring your eyes down to his waist, you can see that your earlier assumption of Jungkook not wearing any underwear was indeed correct. Fuck, he was too hot.

Just as you’re about to pull his jeans off of his hips, he stops you, and instead leans back over to kiss you roughly.

“What’s wrong?” You ask when your lips part from his with a wet smacking noise.

“Shower first. I’ve been sweaty, baby.” He kisses you again, almost making you fall back against the mattress with its force. He makes you absolutely dizzy with lust. “Come with me?”

“You want to shower before sex?” You ask.

“We can take one afterwards too, if you want.” He smiles and helps you up off of the bed.

You follow Jungkook to the bathroom, stupidly nervous. He was going to see you naked one way or another, why did this feel so strangely intimate? Too intimate for a one night stand.

There’s an ashtray with some half smoked joints sitting on the bathroom counter, along with some hair products and skin care type things. You’re almost too distracted to notice Jungkook pulling his shirt over his head.

“Do you smoke?” He asks.

“I have…it’s been awhile.” You watch as Jungkook picks up one of the joints and puts it between his lips.

“Nothing better than a shower joint. Except maybe a shower beer.” He laughs and digs for a lighter in his pocket. Once he’s retrieved it, he lights the joint and takes a very long drag.

“Can you smoke in here?” You ask, knowing you must sound so cringey for asking. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and holds the joint up to your lips.

“It’s blueberry haze. One of the best strands I’ve had.” Jungkook lets you take the joint, then casually shoves his jeans down to his ankles, stepping out of the denim and kicking them to the corner.

“Blueberry haze, you say?” Your words are distracted by his naked form. Broad chest and big arms. Tiny waist and…really big dick confirmed.

“Give it a try, pretty girl.” Jungkook watches as your eyes make their way back to his face, blinking so adorably.

You refocus your thoughts long enough to bring the joint to your lips and take a drag. The smoke fills your lungs and makes you cough, immediately handing it back to Jungkook, who rubs your back soothingly while you catch your breath.

“That’s…kind of strong.” You struggle to get the words out.

“You’re not naked enough.” Jungkook touches the hem of your shirt at your hip.

“Being naked helps with smoking weed?” You raise a questioning eyebrow, already beginning to feel it’s effects.

“I like to think so.” Jungkook slowly drags your shirt up and over your head, being delightfully met with the sight of your bare chest. “I’d love to have my mouth all over these.” Your shirt is long forgotten and so is your shyness.

“Why don’t you?” You take a step up closer to him, barely hearing the groaning noise he makes.

“Get these off.” He sticks his pointer finger just inside the waistband of your jeans, pulling at the material until it softly snaps back against your skin. You obey far too willingly, the blueberry haze in your mind making you feel extremely pliant.

You remove your jeans and underwear in a quick motion, kicking away the clothing and immediately reaching for Jungkooks skin, touching his shoulders and meeting his eyes with yours.

“You kind of look like a blueberry…a beautiful blueberry.” You giggle, fingers toying with the strands of his blue hair. Jungkook giggles too, big arms wrapping around your waist.

“You’re so fucking cute.” He kisses you a few times, then moves your body back towards the shower door. “Let’s get you wet.” He whispers into your mouth. You want to tell him that you’re already dripping wet between your thighs, but instead you step into the steamy shower with him right behind you, closing the smoky glass door.

The hot water immediately hits your skin and makes your muscles relax. You almost forget for a moment that a beautiful man is also in here with you, until his hands are on your hips and turning you around to face him.

“Don’t you need to get cleaned up?” You ask, Jungkook's hands sliding up your wet skin to cup your breasts in his hands. You whimper, not realizing how desperate you were to be touched.

“Mmm, I do.” His thumbs flick over your nipples, and then his touch is gone, making your eyes shoot open.

Jungkook is taking another drag from the joint, breathing it in deeply and holding it in his lungs. He grabs the back of your head, fingers gripping your wet hair and pressing his mouth onto yours. You feel the smoke slowly creep from his mouth into yours. You breathe it in like he wants you to, then let it out through your nose so that you can keep kissing him.

“I think…I think you should get cleaned up…quickly.” You say between kisses and strokes of his tongue.

“Tell me what you need, baby.” Jungkooks mouth travels from your lips to your jaw, nipping with his teeth as he goes.

“Can I show you?” The high you’re on is making you feel so bold.

“Please.” He pecks your lips and pulls away from you, he knows what you want.

You put a hand to his chest between his very defined pecks, sliding it between the muscles and down over the hard planes of his stomach until you reach his cock, hot and hard in your hand. You watch his face for any dislike, but he only put his hand over yours and makes you tighten your grip.

You don’t want to waste time, you want to hear him fall apart with his cock down your throat. You lean forward and lick one of his nipples, sucking it gently. Jungkook lets his head fall back against the shower wall, pulling his pierced lip between his teeth.

You lick up some water drops on your way down his body. His perfectly sculpted body that you most certainly take note of, gently getting to your knees in front of him, looking up to meet his eyes one more time before opening your mouth to take his cock inside.

Jungkook hisses through his teeth when you start to suck. Gently at first, short, shallow motions as you bob your head. You look up to see the muscles of his stomach tighten over and over the deeper you take him. It’s when you add your tongue that he really starts to make noise above you.

“That’s so good, baby. Keep going, just like that.” Jungkook touches your jaw and your cheek his fingers, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb.

You let him start to move his hips and thrust into your mouth and throat. You gag a couple of times, but you don’t want him to stop. The pretty moans and whimpers he’s making are too perfect to stop, so you dig your nails into the backs of his thighs and hold on for dear life when he starts move faster.

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” Jungkook smoothed back your hair and brought your face up so he could see your eyes. The eye contact seems to do him in. “Shit, shit, baby. Gonna cum…” He throws his head back in a long drawn out groan just as hot spurts of cum start to fill your throat.

You close your eyes and take everything that he gives you, slowing the motions of your head bobbing until he’s done, lazily licking the tip of his cock until he stops you.

“Was that okay?” You look up at him innocently, knowing that he’s wrecked at the moment.

“You’re fucking perfect.” His head is back against the shower wall as he laughs quietly.

You start to feel the ache in your knees, quickly wiping your mouth with your hand before you feel Jungkook wrap an arm around your waist to help you up. He smiles, then grabs some soap from the shelf behind you and scrubs himself clean with it, all you can seem to do is stand there in awe.

The desperation to be touched was becoming almost unbearable, but you try to keep your composure, letting Jungkook turn off the water and hand you a white fully hotel towel to dry off with. You both quickly take another drag from the slow burning joint on the counter, then move back into the bedroom area.

Jungkook has his white towel ties low on his slender hips. He’s walking around the room as if he’s looking for something and you aren’t sure what it could possibly be.

“Did you lose something?” You ask, taking a few steps closer to him.

“I had a necktie that I wore to dinner last night…” He tosses some things around in his suitcases.

“What do you need a necktie for?” The words left your mouth before your brain could catch up. But it suddenly dawns on you what he might be wanting to do with the necktie. “Oh…”

“Are you comfortable with that?” Jungkook gets down on his knees in front of the bed, flipping up the blankets and bed skirt to look beneath it.

“It would be…new, for me.” You tighten your hold on the towel wrapped around your body.

“All you have to do is tell me to stop, and I will. No questions asked, if you don’t like it.” Jungkook reaches under the bed and pulls out a red necktie. “Found it.”

“Yeah…I can try it.” You nibble on your bottom lip and nervously cross the rest of the space to the bed.

“So good for me.” Jungkook closes any remaining space between the two of you and kisses your waiting lips. His kiss draws out all the nerves and turns them into lust. “Lay down with your hands above your head, wrists crossed.” The smallest bit of authority in his voice makes your pussy ache in such a delicious way. “And get rid of this.” He undoes the loose knot of your towel and lets it fall to the ground around your ankles.

You let him gently touch your bare hip before he’s moving to the other side of the bed. He watches intently as you climb onto the oversized bed, laying your head on the fluffed pillows with your arms above your head and wrists crossed, just as he asked.

“I’m ready.” You release a long breath, eyes coming back to Jungkook, whose eyes are shamelessly roaming your naked body.

“I can’t stop thinking about your mouth.” Jungkook says, wrapping and unwrapping the silky red material around his knuckles. “But I’m ready to have a taste of you.”

You shiver, watching as Jungkook kneels up onto the bed, raising his hand above your body and letting the silk tie just barely ghost over your skin. He starts at your ankle, moving it up your calf, over both thighs and purposely avoiding the ache between your legs.

“Please hurry up, Jungkook.” Your body arches away from the mattress when the silky material brushes over one of your nipples.

“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” Jungkook coos, having mercy and wrapping your wrists up into the tie, attaching it to the headboard. “If you want me to fuck you, you’re going to have to be patient.”

You can barely take your eyes away from the sight of his naked body, until his mouth is suddenly on you. His mouth and tongue are having absolutely no mercy on your breasts and nipples. He groans each time he pulls a bud between his lips. The tie around your wrists is a torture you didn’t know that you needed.

“Jungkook…” You moan his name and he absolutely adores the sound of it. So much so, that he takes mercy and moves his body down the bed and settles between your thighs, his mouth quickly buried between them. “Oh fuck…” You pull at the binding, wishing your hands could lace into the blue strands of hair bobbing between your legs.

The mercy you thought you were receiving before is long gone. Jungkook is relentless with his tongue and lips. Long strokes of his tongue offset by quick sucks to your clit. It’s absolutely maddening.

You’re pulling at the tie so hard that you know you’ll have bruises on your skin in the morning. But the thought of it quickly passes when you feel Jungkook bury his mouth in your pussy, his nose brushing your clit as he moves his head back and forth in quick succession. You manage to look down between your legs just in time to meet his lust filled eyes, seeing him devouring you sends you over the edge hard and fast.

White flashes pop in and out of your vision as your body tries to recover from the insane orgasm you just experienced. Jungkook hums low in his chest as he licks up everything you’ve given him, kissing the insides of both your thighs as he stands up from the bed to look down at you.

“Do you think that you deserve my cock?” Jungkook stands at the end of the bed, tattooed hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it lazily.

“I’ve been good, haven’t I?” You pant and squirm against the satin sheets, hands and arms still above your head. He watches your face carefully.

“The things I want to do to you…” He bites into his bottom lip as he continues to touch himself in front of you. “But I have to get my cock inside that pretty pussy of yours before I explode.”

Your chest heaved up and down at the thought of him finally fucking you. You were so desperate that you knew you would do anything he asked of you.

“Can you please untie me now?” You needed to touch his body…his skin…his muscles….feel his hair. All of it.

“Look what you do to me, pretty girl.” He ignores your request, making you whine at the lack of attention to what you wanted, but also at the way he’s spreading pre-cum up and down the length of his cock.

“I want you so badly, Jungkook. Please.” You move your hips up as he climbs back onto the bed and kneels between your open legs. His eyes saunter down your body until they get to your pussy, big hands pushing your thighs further apart so he can get a better look.

“You’re so wet. Thinking about my cock made you drip like this?” He scoots closer, the head of his cock so close to where you want it. You pull at the tie on your wrists again.

“Untie me…please.” You beg again.

“Here’s what I’m going to do.” Jungkook ignores you again, making you want to cry. “I’m going to give you what you want. I’m going fuck you hard and fast. And I want you to tell me how good it makes you feel. Make sure the people in the room next door know how badly you wanted my cock.” Jungkook kisses your stomach and then your hip. It’s so gentle compared to the way he then reaches down and roughly grabs the globes of your ass, lining you up with his cock just the way he wants you.

“Please…” You can’t bear it anymore, the build up has been so intense you can feel tears start to leak from the corners of your eyes.

“Be loud for me.” Jungkook doesn’t wait anymore, he impales you on his cock, easily sliding inside with how wet you’ve become. But you still feel the ache of the stretch as you try to accommodate all of him at once.

You moan loudly, just the way he wanted. Pulling at your binds and cursing yourself over and over for agreeing to be tied up. Jungkook keeps his hands on your hips as he starts his ruthless pace.

You can feel sweat forming on your forehead already as your stomach begins to tighten with another orgasm. His perfect cock finds that spot inside you with ease and abuses it over and over again.

“Untie me…god Jungkook please…please.” Your face is wet with tears from pleasure as well as frustration.

“You’ve been so good, haven’t you? I think I can do that.” He bends down to kiss your mouth, something he hadn’t done for what seemed like hours. While he kisses you, he moves one hand from your hip to the red silky tie on your wrists and pulls the knot free.

As soon as you feel it loosen, you rip your hands away from the head board and dig them into his blueberry colored hair, pulling him closer and kissing him deeper. Jungkook smiles at the desperation. He loves it in fact.

You move your hands down and let your nails dig slightly into his skin as he continues to piston his hips against yours. Jungkook groans at the feeling.

“Come here.” He practically growls, sitting up on his knees and bringing you with him. Your arms wrap around his neck and your legs wrap around his waist, putting you in a somewhat riding position. Jungkook is able to fuck up into while on his knees, but keep you close. “You’re so fucking perfect.” His mouth is sloppy as it moves along your neck and collarbones.

“I’m going to cum again…you’re so deep.” Your mouth finds his, kissing him and breathing him in.

“You don’t need my permission, I want you to cream my cock. I want all of it.” Jungkook leans back on his hands, making the angle of his hips hit you even deeper than before. Your hands grip at his shoulders and hold on for dear life as he fucks you through another mind shattering orgasm. “You’re squeezing me so tight baby.” Jungkook's voice breaks off in a moan as you clench around him over and over.

“Please cum, Jungkook. I need it.” Your body feels boneless, but you can feel how close Jungkook is starting to get to his own end. “You’re fucking me so well…but I need you to come.”

“Your pussy feels too good…gonna cum.” Jungkook buries his face in your neck and buries his cock as deep as he can get as he finishes inside you. You feel warmth full you up and drip down your thighs as his thrusts come to a halt.

You both stay still for a moment, sweaty skin against sweaty skin. Your fingers mindlessly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You’re okay?” He finally asks, bringing his face out of your neck to look at you.

“I’m great.” You laugh quietly. Jungkook smiles, then reaches behind his neck for your hands, bringing them around so he can look at your wrists.

“Does it hurt? They look like they might bruise…” His thumbs gently brush over your skin.

“I think I’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt now.” You watch him bring your wrists to his lips, pressing kisses up down each one.

“Do you want to sleep here?” He asks, softly lifting you from his lap and letting his softening cock fall from inside you, he looks at you concerned when you whimper.

“I can just…I can go home.” You scoot back on the mattress when Jungkook stands up from the bed. You didn’t want to overstay. You wouldn’t ever see him again, there wasn’t much point in staying.

“Are you sure? I can have my car take you home in the morning…or now. Whatever you prefer.” He then disappears into the bathroom and brings back a washcloth for you to clean up with.

“I’ll just get dressed.” You awkwardly clean up with the washcloth before heading to the bathroom to put it in the hamper and find your clothes.

You dress in a daze, but once you’re ready you back out into the room to find Jungkook in a pair of underwear sitting on the corner of the bed with his phone to his ear. You rub your hands on your thighs while you wait for him to finish.

“My driver is ready to take you home.” He pushes his blue hair back and tosses his phone onto the night stand.

“Thanks.” You continue to stand there without a clue what to do or say. “I’ll just…go.” You point at the door and start walking towards it.

“Wait!” Jungkook says just as you turn the handle. “At least leave me your number? If you’d be interested in seeing me next time I’m in town?” He grabs his phone again and crosses the room to stand with you. You wish you could stop the smile on your face.

“Sure.” You tap your number into his phone and hand it back. “See you around, Jungkook.” You kiss his cheek, but that is apparently not what he had in mind.

Jungkook grabs your chin in his tattooed hand and kisses you on the lips. It’s a kiss that tries to trick you into thinking that maybe he’s actually serious about seeing you again one day. It feels too complex.

“Goodnight, Y/N. I’d like it if you texted me when you made it home.” He pecks your lips once more, then releases your chin and takes a step back.

“Yeah, I can do that. Goodnight, Jungkook.” You open the door and step into the hallway, looking back just once more to see him smile down at the floor before the door closes.

#btsdreamcourt #btsgoldnet #btscreatorscorner #bangtansorciere #btshoneyhive #ksmutclub #btswritersclub #bangtanarmynet #clubzerooclock #52hertz #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook smut #bangtan fanfic #bts #jungkook #btscarnivalnet

[loveykookie]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

< back to one-shot fics i've read

Jungkook One-shots Mini Masterlist (Part 1)

absolute by @v-hope - college!au, fuck buddies to lovers!au | a, f

after i left you by @latetaektalk - exes!au, fake dating!au, e2l!au, unrequited feelings!au | a, f

a little sand never hurt anyone by @mimikookie - bf2l!au | a, s

as i told you by @eleventoes - e2l!au, college!au, roommates!au | f

at the end of the day by @starshapedkookie - high school f2l!au, beach/vacation!au | a, f, s

bad habits by @sugarjaee - fuck boy!au | a, s

behind these walls by @cupofteaguk - neighbors!au, college!au, e2l!au | f

(better) left unsaid by @angelguk - best friends!au | a

better late than never by @rosaetae - fake dating!au, post breakup!au

blush by @jhsbrat - fake dating!au - a, f, s

careful what you wish for by @kookiesbuckethat - established relationship!au | a, f

caught me by @jeongi - roommates!au, e2l!au | s

champagne problems by @smoochkooks - fwb!au, sugar daddy!au | a, f, s

changes in between by @taegularities - roommates!au, s2f2l!au | a, f, s

chasing buses by @bangtanwhatif - s2f2l!au | f

collar full by @mypersonmyg - college!au, f2l!au | a, f

crush on you by @moonbelt - bf2l!au | a, f, s

cuddles for comfort, dinner for payment by @an-exotic-writer - s2f! au | f

date in a box by @jimlingss - f

ended as quickly as it started by @alpacaparkaseok - established relationship!au | a, f

euphoria by @seokstrivia - roommates!au, e2l!au | a, f, s

fool me once by @jeonqkooks - fuck boy!au, fwb!au | a, s

home by @rosedtae - established relationship!au | f

hot boy bummer by @jungkxook - fwb!au, f2l!au | a, f, s

how many drinks? by @xpeachesncream - college!au, dance group!au, best friends!au, fwb!au | a, f, s

"i gotta make sure you get home safe." by @taetaespeaches - roommates!au | f

it takes two by @junghelioseok - fake dating!au, roommates!au | f, s

just a little... by @soft4gguk - bf2l!au, fwb!au | s

kids in the dark by @chemicalpink - idol!au | a, f

lemon sherbet by @extravaguk - summer!au, ex high shool classmates!au, frenemies to lovers!au | a, f, s

little library girl by @kooksgalaxy - college!au | a, f

love alive by @jamaisjoons - post breakup!au, exes to lovers!au | a, f, s

me time by @hansolmates - college!au, boarding house!au | f

micromave (mis)adventures by @bymoonchild - college!au, roommates!au, e2l!au | a, f, s

midnight by @kooala - f2l!au, f

mr. right (swipe) by @jjkthclub - frat boy!au, drummer!au, e2l!au | a, f, s

my dear friend by @kooktrash - f2l!au, college!au | a, f, s

not my fault by @taegularities - classmates to lovers!au, college!au | f, s

oh my god, they were (quarantined) roommates by @ot7always - college!au, roommates!au | f, s

overtime by @cupofteaguk - ceo/boss!au | f, s

photographs by @honeyedhoseok - a, f

play pretend by @seokoloqy - fake dating!au, e2l!au | a, s

practice by @chryblossomjjk - college!au, fwb!au | s

proposals by @pjxmin - f2l!au | a, f, s

quit by @jeonsweetheart - exes to lovers!au | a, s

(road)tripping for you by @latetaektalk - roadtrip!au, s2l!au, only one bed!au, summer!au | a, f

roommates by @jjkeverlast - roommates!au | s

snow laughing matter by @taleasnewastime - e2l!au, christmas!au | a, f

somnolent by @forgottenpasta - roommates!au | f

updated august 13, 2022

< back to one-shot fics i've read

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts #jungkook oneshot #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts au #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic recs #bts jungkook

[foxymoxynoona]

Over the Falls Ch. 4

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 Three | Masterlist | Chapter Five

“It was a shitshow, is what it was,” Megan insisted, arms out as she picked her way through the tangled overgrowth of the front yard. In heels, mind you, with tight jeans that made it difficult to bend her legs so that she kind of waddled and teetered as she trailed after Grace around the wild beds and weed-devoured gravel path.  

“You’re exaggerating.”

“The toilets overfloweth,” Megan insisted, hands gesturing to demonstrate just how badly the bathroom had been destroyed. “Of course no one wants to admit it was them but someone brought the chicken casserole–”

“And you’re sure it was the chicken casserole?”

“Using my excellent detective skills–”

“That’s true, why would I doubt you?” Grace laughed. She stopped on the gray stone porch –cracked, chipped, and laced with mildew– and surveyed the yard. 

“It was everyone who ate the chicken casserole crapping their brains out,” Megan said, pulling herself up the steps. “But who made the casserole? No one in that set of people makes casseroles. I’m telling you, someone used rancid chicken.”

“You think it was on purpose?”

“I mean, it didn’t make Nancy look good to have a dozen people head to the ER with bubble-guts,” Megan said, eyebrows raised and lips twisted to the side like she knew what her opinion of it was. Who has it out for Nancy? The answer for any of them was most likely depends on the day. “But I suppose it could have been someone stupid. Decided to cook instead of letting their chef handle it and doesn’t want to admit it now.”

“I can’t believe Nancy did a potluck,” Grace admitted. 

“Oh she’s living in deep shame right now. Trish and Eugenia goaded her into her after someone… maybe me… suggested potlucks are trendy now.”

“You didn’t,” Grace laughed. Megan cackled shamelessly. 

“Well they can stop talking shit about me or I’m going to set them up like that! I said they’re all the rage now and we’re getting laughed at for being so outdated on the West Coast.”

“Why would Nancy care?”

“Oh some stuffy asshole from Georgia was going to be there, I don’t even remember his name, so I may have positioned myself as an expert on Georgia…”

“You’re from Georgia.”

“Sure, but not Georgia money,” Megan reminded her. “I’m from Georgia upper middle class. And I’m stretching that upper. We did potlucks at church but never when we hosted. Who would do that? You run the risk of someone bringing a rancid chicken casserole.”

“You don’t think it was Nancy herself– no, she wouldn’t cook for her own dinner,” Grace quickly corrected.

“No, I think it was someone else trying to be on theme. Instead they inspired their own theme…”

“You didn’t get sick,” Grace guessed based on Megan’s laughter about the whole thing.

“Lord no, I didn’t touch that casserole. I knew it would only disappoint me. Kind of like this house.”

Grace gave her a bemused smile and led her through the front door with the set of keys she’d picked up from the owners earlier. Megan’s tale of the failed dinner party had woven through their examination around the exterior of the property: overgrown, cluttered with potted plants, a slimy green and frog-infested pool, a garage door that no no one could find the clicker to. The patio furniture had all turned green with mildew, the iron frames rusted. 

“Woah, it’s squat,” Megan said, ducking her head in the entry way as though the ceiling wasn’t a full ten feet.

“It just feels that way because they painted the ceilings dark,” Grace explained. The entryway had a closet dead ahead too, making the space feel small. Two doors crowded them on the left, too, and so many doors right when you entered made a house feel like a maze. If you ripped off the closet door and turned it into a proper entryway, it would feel better. Maybe one of the doors to the left too. Shockingly, when she opened one it had dark carpeted stairs to the second floor.

“Why’d they do that? That’s creepy to put a door there.”

“People do lots of things to their houses,” Grace shrugged. “I always think it’s interesting. Maybe they were trying to cut down on A/C costs?”

“You must see some weird things.”

“I do. And it’s my job to paint those over so that the next person can envision a blank canvas to make their own personal type of weird,” she mused. She made notes as they wandered through the living room to the right –one of two family spaces. Big picturesque windows facing that overgrown front yard made the living room feel hidden and secluded –not a corner lot in a lively neighborhood and only several blocks from the beach and businesses.

“There’s so much stuff…”

Grace nodded, recalling what she knew. The house was built in 1952 and bought by the most recent owners in the 80s, only two owners in all that time which was remarkable for California. The husband had just passed and now the children wanted the place cleared out and sold to support the mother, who was in her eighties and moving in with one of her grown children. Grace glanced at the portraits mounted on the wall –far too many, so the walls felt like they were ready to erupt– that showed forty years of life in this place. 

“It’s really not in terrible shape though,” Grace corrected the easy judgment someone like Megan would make at first glance. “It needs to be cleared out, it needs paint, but the structure is good. I’d rip the carpet out and replace it with wood or tile. Paint everything, of course. Replace the appliances, though we may be able to clean these up enough to sell,” she considered, looking at her notes about updates and replacements as they wandered through the kitchen.The wood cabinets were dated by their oak finish but in good shape, the hinges squeak-free and sturdy as she swung a few open. 

“Oh, that’s kinda nice,” Megan gasped, rushing forward to open the French doors. Four double-doorways fanned out from the breakfast room: one back to the rooms on the ground floor, one to a back staircase to the second floor, one to an open-air dining room and the third to the patio before the pool. It created a very open, airy space when all the doors were open, as if the yard was part of the house. Right now it was in bad shape but when cleaned up, that would be beautiful. Also the doors needed to go on half the doorways, it must have been an A/C issue which made her think the place must get really warm during the summer.

“The carpet on the stairs needs replacing,” Megan pointed out as she led Grace up, as if she was the one on the job here.

“Trying to take my job?” Grace laughed.

“I see why you like this, it’s kinda fun. Like if you painted all these walls white, this feels like a resort up here with all these windows and the view of the yard.” The master bedroom and its massive his-and-hers bathroom and walk-in closet dominated by the back of the house. A walk-out balcony had creaky doors clearly not used for some time and Grace recalled that she’d been told the couple couldn’t enjoy the yard for the past several years. The children didn’t seem to have realized how badly their health was until the father died. She only got glimpses into the lives of the people whose houses she sold, and it was often a mixture of curiosity and tragedy.

“A built-in desk and shelves in the bedroom? That’s strange,” Megan decided, inspecting the furniture that did indeed seem built into the wall.

“I think it’s kind of neat,” Grace admitted, passing to peek in the closet. Musty and smelling of dust and mothballs but huge. 

“Damn, how many bedrooms does this place have?” Megan asked as they toured through others, all significantly smaller than the master but with decent enough space. One was an office, one a dusty old sewing room with tubs of fabrics against the walls, one a guest room with a sagging mattress and dated bedding.

“Four bedrooms,” Grace read from her sheet. “Three full baths. 3,450 square feet.”

“How much do you think they’ll get for it?”

Grace was flattered for Megan to ask her that, like she was such a pro she could just name it after this initial walkthrough. She checked doorways and vents and windows as they wandered, noting damage, searching for crucial flaws but finding nothing but superficial needs. The couple seemed to have put their money into the important things over the years –the electrical and plumbing were all relatively new, the roof was brand new, the fireplace in the living room unnecessary for most people somewhere as warm as California but apparently they’d burned wood and kept it well tended until the end. 

“Hm… depends if they want to do some remodeling before they sell, or sell as is,” Grace said. She did her best to sound more confident than she necessarily was, a skill instilled in her young. Except she did know quite a bit about this! “Maybe four, four and a half if they do… I’d guess three and a half if they don’t. The beach is close, the school district is good.”

“Damn.”

“The issue is just who we target. The dated decor won’t appeal to young people, but older folks are less likely to buy this near the beach. It’s got both a den and a family room, two bedrooms downstairs, the master and the second upstairs… It’s a lot of space for an older couple, really more for a family.”

She wandered again, seeing in her mind’s eye the changes she would make here and there if it was hers. Different paint here. Wallpaper there. Replace the carpet in the bedrooms and upstairs hallway, trade with wood or stone downstairs. Foam’s tree would have a great view of the garden from that corner…

“The yard is a mess,” Megan rattled off, peeking through the windows again. “That pool looks like a swamp.”

“It does.”

“And all this stuff. How do you clean out a place like this?”

“Well, I’d recommend to the family that they go through and remove everything they want to keep, then we do an estate sale. You’d be surprised how quickly they can clear out a house. After that is when I would usually stage the house and take the listing photos.”

“After they’ve had time to fix everything up nice?”

Grace nodded absent-mindedly as she crouched to look up the fireplace. She was no expert, it would need to be checked, but the fact they had been burning through the winter was a good sign, hopefully it didn’t need more than a cleaning. There ought to be glass doors installed though so they weren’t losing their cool air in the summer. 

“It’s hard to see through all the stuff,” Megan insisted, but Grace didn’t agree at all. She could see the potential. The big windows and wide doorways created such a nice flow. They blocked it off with odd furniture choices and misplaced wall decorations –too much here, not enough there to guide the eye. It was just superficial, the stuff that needed to be done. 

Grace could do that.

Grace wanted to do that. 

She wanted someplace that was a good investment, worth the money, but that she could sink her teeth into and really make her own.

She wanted some place that didn’t look at all like the home she’d built before, the one Tim destroyed.

Megan was mid-sentence criticizing the dated light fixtures when Grace touched her arm and interrupted, “I think I’m going to buy this house.”

“Hm? You’re selling this house.”

“To myself. I mean, I’ll have to have another agent take over the selling because it would be a major conflict of interests but–”

“Wait you really want to buy this place?” Megan asked. She looked around with disbelief. “But… it’s kind of a wreck.”

“Only visually.”

“Yeah…”

“I mean superficially. It’s in good shape, it’s just ugly, but the potential…”

“Do you really want a project like this though?”

“I do,” Grace insisted, feeling more sure of her answer. It would be work, but work of her choosing. Work to create a home exactly the way she wanted. Looking around, she already felt a sense of ownership welling up. She liked seeing what the house looked like now, knowing its past before they started their new life together. A rebirth for them both.

“I just think you’ve dealt with enough problems this year. Do you even know how to do this kind of stuff? Painting, carpeting, those ugly lights– I mean, the pool is a bog. I saw actual frogs. Are we sure it’s not actually a koi pond gone feral?”

“I know a guy,” Grace said without much thought behind it. She meant it as a joke, that any professional could handle any of the specific issues that felt beyond her limited skill set. She hadn’t meant JK specifically –though he could handle frogs and probably get that pool looking nice. The last thing she wanted was to remind Megan of the suggestion she’d made immediately after Grace confessed about the divorce… 

Quickly Grace added, “I’ll hire the help I need for the big stuff. Everything else will be fun.”

“If you say so…” Megan said. She sounded critical but also amused. “I don’t know what to say. You’ve already surprised me, maybe you’ll surprise me again.”

“What surprised you?” Grace asked, head tilting curiously.

“You left that saggy ballsack husband! Maybe you’ll surprise me with your speckling skills too.”

“Speckling?”

“Isn’t that what it’s called?”

“What what’s called?”

“You know, hm… that house repair thing.. Look I don’t know what I’m talking about, I just have house shows on in the background sometimes.”

“Spackling?” Grace guessed and Megan just shrugged. “That’s fixing holes in walls.”

“Can you do that?”

“Sure,” Grace said with gusto, despite having never done it in her life. It couldn’t be harder than getting a divorce from Tim, so hell yeah!

“Well congratulations then. Why don’t you have me over once it’s all cleared out and I’ll act surprised. I’ll forget I saw its unsavory past,” Megan laughed as they headed for the door. Grace couldn’t have felt more different: she wouldn’t forget the house’s past. Years from now, assuming it all went through, once she got the house the way she wanted it, she and this house could look back on how far they’d come.

“Ok, it’s a date,” Grace agreed. “Let’s head out, I’ve got to let the family know they need a new agent.”

“You’re just going to dump them? Damn girl, you’re really cleaning house–”

“No! I’ll just explain I’m interested and that they need new representation. I’ll even recommend someone I know will be good for them.”

“You know a guy, huh?”

“I do, yes.”

“You know a lot of guys,” Megan prodded as Grace locked up the house. 

“What do you mean by that?” Grace asked. Even though she knew.

“Just pointing it out. Don’t want you getting any clutter or cobwebs you need to clean out if you go too long–”

“Megan Eldridge!”

“I’m just saying! As your friend!”

“Is that all you’ve got on your mind?” Grace teased. “Adam’s away again, hm?”

“No, but I swear, these hormones are making me batty,” Megan sighed, hand reflexively resting against her leg, as if to protect it from even a verbal mention. She’d shown Grace the bruises the fertility shots left, physical proof of how dedicated Megan was for a child after she and her husband had put it off for years. “Now or never,” Megan had said, tapping her wrist as if her forty-three years were recorded on her watch. 

That’s sort of how Grace felt about starting her life over. She felt late. She hadn’t been on her own since she was barely an adult and now had to figure everything out all on her own. She could recognize she was putting unfair pressure on herself to “catch up” after her whole life got upended, and yet she was eager to settle into her new normal. Foam and her were a close, happy little family already, but the apartment still felt so temporary. It felt like she still lived in the shadow of Tim, in the wreckage of their marriage. She was ready to emerge, no more dragging her feet. Maybe it wasn’t now or never, but it was time.

“How long do you think it’ll take you to get this place fixed up?” Megan asked. She didn’t check behind her very long before backing out of the driveway and Grace resisted the urge to point it out. 

“I don’t know. A year? I have to actually buy it first.”

“That’s too long before you can host again.”

“I’m not in a rush to host anything.”

“You should be. I can’t wait to watch you make this place beautiful and rub it in everyone’s faces,” Megan grinned. Her quick reversal from criticism of the house to blind support for Grace’s ability to make this something beautiful was noted and appreciated.

“Let’s plan on a baby shower instead,” Grace suggested. “I think that’s nicer than petty revenge for gossip.”

Megan sighed loudly, “You’ve really got to work on your mean-streak. It’s painfully under-developed.”

Jungkook floated on the board, letting the waves scoop him like a tired child getting carried to bed. Max made him think of that. How badly he had envied Max at Mo’s memorial service when the little boy fell asleep stretched out in the corner despite the stifled sobs and loud music ushering from the best speakers Jungkook owned. Mo had been an incredible musician, far more talented at guitar than Jungkook could ever hope to be. His voice was a lie, sounding so alive as it wrapped around the room, and for the length of an album the guy behind the voice was alive and Jungkook was hearing the album for the first time and simultaneously understanding what he wanted to do with his life and what he could never hope to compete with.

Then the album ended, the memorial ended, Yoojin scooped up sleeping Max to carry him home, and the world was a little cold again. Cold for April, at least. 

At the beach, Jungkook could draw the warmth back into his skin, even early in the morning. He hadn’t slept well after all that, even once Jimin pounded on the wall for him to stop strumming his unplugged guitar, so it hadn’t been hard to drag his ass to the beach this morning. The sky was overcast though. Fitting, all things considered.

Bobbing on the water wasn’t a good idea. It gave Jungkook too much time to think things he didn’t want to think. It was hard enough to float through the memorial, he couldn’t hold on longer than that. It would drag him down. There was too much anguish there for everyone, and none of them knew what to do about it even years later. He sure didn’t know how to fix it for anyone though he was doing his damned best, trying, failing. 

If the roles were reversed, Mo would probably have known what to do.

Jungkook dashed at the salt crusting on his eyelashes and leapt up at the next wave. Manhattan Beach was starting to crowd up, and it annoyed him to have to navigate so many other surfers as he paddled back out once the dumped him unceremoniously on the sand. He watched Seokjin get a good one going only to have to bail as a fucking jake cut across his path. 

Jungkook shouted angrily on Seokjin’s behalf until his head broke the surface and he could shout himself, but the asshat had already flown off down the beach. Not someone Jungkook recognized, maybe a barney.

Jungkook shook his head. His frustration on Seokjin’s behalf made him reckless. He took the next wave but it was a poor shot, he realized too late. The wave broke too soon and he failed to pull off the aerial that could have landed him gracefully back on the surface. Instead the board clipped and shot him forward, then jetted narrowly over his head through the water as the surf tumbled him down down down. That had been the hardest part about learning to surf, at least Jungkook thought so. Learning not to panic as the water pushed you down, knowing it would pass in a moment. Hopefully. 

Well, sometimes it didn’t pass. Some people never could get out. 

Jungkook kicked off the bottom and paddled to the top, breaking through an easy smooth surface. The wave had passed. He lifted his feet to grab hold of the board tether and decided to call it a day. He wasn’t having fun, his head was a mess, and he didn’t want to disrespect the ocean by not being present when he rode it. He began to paddle to shore–

“JUNG–!!” was all he heard before something sharp and hard slammed into his shoulder. The shocking pain of it had him swallowing a mouthful of water as the force knocked him from his board. For a moment he just hung in the balance, scooped by the water, mind a dark void around the sharp pain. 

Burning lungs made his body move on its own, struggling to the surface –or maybe it was the relentless tug of his board’s cord. He drew in a chest full of air just as Seokjin grabbed his arm.

“Fuck!”

“FUCKER!” Seokjin shouted and finally Jungkook could process that a surfer had hit him. He dragged himself half across his board and let Seokjin push him closer to shore. “You ok? Where’d it get you– ah, shit, I see the blood.”

Jungkook craned his neck to look. All things considered, it could have been worse. Nothing broken, not even a massive gash, though the salt water burned the broken skin on his shoulder like shit. His neck hurt from the whiplash but that was better than the other thing. A direct hit there or on his head could have paralyzed him. Killed him.

“I’m ok,” Jungkook said, willing it to be true. “Just knocked me over.”

He stumbled as they got to the shallower water, the churn around his ankles trying to drag him back out, until he could sit heavily on the sand.

Embarrassingly, the lifeguard sprinted full speed over like this was a fucking Baywatch rerun. He sent sand spraying everywhere, nervous as though he’d never seen a collision before.

“You didn’t have to haul him out?” he demanded of Seokjin. He set the first aid bag down and leaned close to Jungkook’s shoulder.

Jungkook waved him away and groused, “I’m fine. Just stupid… I should have been watching better…”

“These assholes are all over the place this morning,” Seokjin complained. “I saw the whole thing. The tourist wasn’t watching and turned toward you too fast.”

Jungkook endured the poking and prodding as Seokjin and the lifeguard looked him over. He stretched and squeezed higher up and further down his arm, checking for anything that felt dangerous. Now that he was free of the water though, he realized it really had gone as well as it could; other than the bruise and cut, it didn’t seem any major damage was done. He promised to think about swinging by Urgent Care, just in case. 

“Don’t think you’re going to be drumming for a few days,” Seokjin admitted as Jungkook successfully chased the lifeguard off to go harass the reckless surfers instead.

“Yeah but I gotta work,” Jungkook sighed. He glanced at his shoulder again. Seokjin was right. He should get some ice and take it easy, and maybe he’d only be out of commission for a few days. At least it was his left hand but damn, of all mornings. “It’s fine though. I’m fine.” He said it again, willing his insides to stop churning. Surf accidents were scary, and the fear always lingered. He was definitely done for the day now. Probably a few days.

“Here, I’ll get your board– need me to call Tae or Jimin?” Seokjin offered. His straight-forward concern told Jungkook just how scary it must have looked from the shore. His own knees knocked as he stood but after wiggling and stretching to get a sense of his body, he felt more confident it was just the post-accident adrenaline rush. His shoulder was going to look gnarly with that bruise, but today had not been his last day.

Fuck, that would have been terrible timing.

“Nah, I’m good to drive.”

“You’re sure?” Seokjin pressed. By now some of the other locals Jungkook knew were trying to crowd around too. Someone grabbed his stuff, someone else hauled his board for him. It was mortifying, and Jungkook was red-faced by the time he’d been escorted the block away to his car. Seokjin was most reluctant of all to let him drive off but in the end Jungkook seemed outwardly chill and made the right jokes to convince him everything was fine.

He made it home before the shocked tears escaped. It was just the adrenaline leaving, that was it. He blamed it all on that as he showered the salt and sweat from his skin, and inspected his throbbing shoulder in the mirror, and did his best to bandage it. No one else was home, and the last thing he wanted to do was freak his family out asking for help. 

At times like this it was hard not to long for the kind of companionship he pretended not to care about. Not sex, not a drinking buddy, not someone to go places with, but a person to rely on, to reach for, to help. Someone who he could lean against for the brief moments where his cool guy image slipped and he felt too fucking much. Someone who could tap his hand to get him to drop the bandage and do it for him because contorting to try and get it on hurt his ribs and stomach. There wasn’t damage there, not that he could feel anyway, just a shock to his body from the rough hit. 

He’d be really, really fucking lucky. Maybe Mo keeping an eye on him this moment. Mo, who’d finally relented and let Jungkook tag along when he’d started to surf first.

It wasn’t helped when he left his room to find Jimin and Hoseok making out in the kitchen, half undressed already.

“Fuck, sorry!” Jimin laughed, looking only a little embarrassed. Hoseok’s face turned red and he hid it in Jimin’s shoulder.

“I thought no one was home. You’re lucky I didn’t walk out naked.”

“Are we lucky?” Hoseok joked, then waved his hands at Jimin’s glare. “It’s a joke.”

“We just got home. I bought my boyfriend coffee like a good boyfriend but…”

That kind of thing. Companionship. Jungkook decided not to give them shit about getting frisky –they weren’t actually violating the no-fucking-in-common-spaces rule. Yet. 

“Isn’t it too early for that kind of thing?” Jungkook joked. His heart wasn’t in the joke but they teased him about just waking up –even though he’d been up for hours– and he waved it off and left without an explanation of where he was going. The answer wasn’t exciting: work. Time to get back to it after his thrilling day off yesterday.

His phone chirped just before he pulled away from the curb, Yoongi asking about band practice tonight. Taro responded immediately, suggesting six and reminding them that they had another show at Flowerfest in a few weeks and needed to figure out a set list and replace the amp that blew out at their last show. As if they were all just swimming in money to replace an amp. Jungkook was hoping Yoongi could filch one from somewhere. He hoped moisture hadn’t caused the short somehow; he’d left the garage door open when it rained the other day but he didn’t think anything had gotten wet…

More things he’d fucked up. He wasn’t even looking forward to Flowerfest, though it was usually a fun show, the afterparty made better last year by their band coming in third. Taro had killed a cover of Garbage’s “Only Happy When It Rains.”

He didn’t feel like making music right now. At least not bickering about a setlist. He didn’t want peppy happy feel good music, he wanted something angry. Drumming his brains out sounded good but he had to fucking work. Bob wanted him to go check out some new rich shithole place –not how Bob had explained it, but apparently the pool needed a complete clean and reset and Bob said it sounded like it would need “his best pool guy.” Which he’d clearly said because he felt bad for Jungkook, like he could sense he was going through something. But Jungkook hadn’t been going through anything yet. Monday was fine! He just hadn’t gotten laid in a while, that was all.

Fuck, was he turning into a shriveled dick?! He didn’t want to be that kind of guy everyone took pity on because he seemed on the cusp of a breakdown. Or, you know, such a cranky fucker that no one wanted to be around him. Yoongi could strike the balance between anti-social and charming, but he couldn’t and he didn’t want to come off that way. He was Jay-kaaaay, just cool and chill. He just wanted to have a good time and this week was just not a good time.

Time to rage. Rage it out of his system. He took the CD binder from the passenger’s seat floorboard with him when he traded to a company truck at the pool shop, digging through until he came across an album that seemed like the right energy to get this all out of his system by the time he got to the job site. It was a light day for him anyway –inspection at this new client house, then inventory at the shop. Bob was probably going to ask him to stock the trucks, that was fine. If he had to deal with any obnoxious clients today he’d probably lose his fucking mind and do something he regretted.

The first track of Rise Against’s 2008 album Appeal to Reason had him drumming on the steering wheel, banging his head at a red light until it hurt his neck and he dialed that back. Damn, it was hard to keep his body still actually. It was impossible to hear the drum track of “Collapse” and not need to recreate it with hands and feet at his own set. Soyoon would kill the bass part. Yoongi would get the guitar lick so good and make it his own. Why couldn’t they do shit like this at the Flowerfest? 

He pulled to a stop in front of the house just as his favorite song of the album came on, track 11. The music hadn’t exactly healed him, but he felt held together in a hot, angry way that felt good. Fired up. So he stayed in his truck, singing at the top of his lungs.

“It kills me not to know this But I’ve all but just forgottenWhat the color of her eyes wereAnd her scars or how she got them”

He drummed through to the end, eyes closed, feeling the emotions of the week ride out of his body. The song ended and he opened his eyes to see an old white lady walking her dog, staring at him with some blend of horror and curiosity. 

“Yeah, whatever, lady,” he mumbled to himself as he slammed the truck door and headed towards the gate. It was so overgrown he paused to check the number and then wondered if this was really where he was supposed to go in, but he didn’t actually see a driveway. Around the corner probably. Annoying. People with properties that were big. His driveway was right there by the front door. Convenient.

There was a buzzer so he pushed that and waited. Then pushed it again. Then jumped when a woman’s voice came through grating and loud just as he’d pushed it a third time,

“Oh, that works? Hello? Hello?”

“Yeah, uh, hi.”

“Who is it?”

“I’m the pool guy. Here to see your uh, pool?”

“Oh, you’re at the front. Why don’t you come around the back instead? The front is a mess. The driveway is around the corner.”

He made an annoyed growl low in his throat. He didn’t feel like moving the truck. There was something insulting about forcing a contractor to take the back entrance even though he almost always did at a job. He was already here, couldn’t she let him in through the front? 

In a short-sighted stubborn fit, he decided to walk the length of the property instead of moving the truck. A green fence rang the length of the yard but didn’t completely hide the very large house rising up from what seemed like an unusual number of trees. Even in the rich neighborhoods, lots around here tended to have pretty sparse greenery but this place was practically lush. On the side, a higher privacy fence eventually transitioned to concrete columns on either side of a security gate; clearly the owners of the house trusted the front street a little more than this side street. 

Here was another box, but before he could push the buzzer, the gate slid open. He realized now how stupid he looked without his truck, like he’d just walked here or something. Had the owner watched him walk around? Probably had cameras everywhere.

The gravel driveway was odd to walk on and he wondered why rich people did that sort of shit. Just have a normal concrete slab like everyone else. You couldn’t play basketball or anything on this kind of thing. The rocks got into his flipflops and pissed him off.

But damn, the yard was pretty cool, he had to admit. The house was fancy as shit. Huge. Getting some work done, clearly, judging by the pile of lumber next to the open garage door. He could hear a wood saw muted drifting out of the open windows. There were a lot of windows. 

Instead of waiting for the owner, he wandered over to the patio area, and from there saw the pool anyway. Some furniture was shoved against the far side with brand new cushions, all of it yet untouched by sun or rain. A fountain was built against one wall of the patio –a big patio, clearly meant for hosting rich people BBQs or whatever– and he peeked in but not only was it not running, the thing was green and slimy and totally gunked.

New owners. He couldn’t remember if Bob had said that, he hadn’t been listening. Probably they’d got this place at a steal for millions of dollars, instead of doubles of millions of dollars, because it needed some work. Which they would spend more millions of dollars on. 

He squinted up at a balcony on the second floor. The sun was finally peeking through the clouds, like maybe it would break them apart. A breeze somehow made it through the yard. Somehow, despite being in a neighborhood and close to other things, it all managed to feel so private. Rich people. Jungkook’s bedroom window looked into his neighbor’s bathroom –and the asshole hadn’t bothered getting a curtain until Jungkook had marched over there to gift him one.

The pool was tucked away to the side, surrounded by more plants, mostly in pots, some broken and spilling dirt across the beautiful stone pool coping. A waterfall against a higher wall was all gunked up. Frogs soaked in the section above the waterfall. Green slime coated everything and he couldn’t see through the murky water to the bottom. It was a nice big pool though, it would be fucking awesome once cleaned, especially half sun half shade like this. He looked up to see how much sun it would get in the height of summer and only then noticed the hot tub in a gazebo not far away. Though covered, it was probably even more fucked; weeds grew directly on the cracked tarp cover.

“Hello? Are you back here?” 

“By the pool!” Jungkook called back. Oops, maybe he should have waited, but there was just something alluring about seeing such a rich house in such a state of disrepair. Humbled for a moment in time. Approachable. Touchable, like he wouldn’t transfer some dark smudge onto every smooth white marble surface with his working-class hands. He couldn’t do anything to the pool to make it worse. Time and neglect had fucked it five ways already.

“Oh good, yes. So you see, it’s… in need of some work.”

It only dawned on Jungkook as he turned that the voice was a familiar one. 

Mrs. Birch strode close to him, crossing her arms around her stomach as she surveyed the pool, as if confirming it was still as bad as she recalled. He forgot all about the pool, as surprised to see her as he’d been getting thrashed by a surfboard that morning. Maybe she had expected his surprise, maybe it was obvious on his face. When her gaze shifted to meet his, she gave him a little smile, like she’d predicted this.

“Hi again, JK.”

“Um… uh… yeah, it is. Looks like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Not you, the pool!”

“I know not me,” she laughed, her whole face lighting up. “Well…” She gave a little self-conscious grin and tossed her head, lifting her hands which were covered with something powdery white. The same substance coated her dark red overalls –they looked fancy and designer and yet they were clearly her physical-work clothes, dotted with bleach and paint and dirt stains. Her blouse was rolled up past her elbows. It was a very amusing blend of designer and working girl and Jungkook thought she looked… 

“You look great,” he said without thinking. Then quickly lifted his hand to brush self-consciously at his hair and rushed on, “You, uh… selling this place? I thought you were gone.”

“Actually, the opposite. I bought this place.”

He was shocked. He grimaced. Then he joked to cover whatever was happening on his face, “This place? Damn, the agent who sold it to you must have been really good…”

“Hey, it’s a good place! It just needs a facelift. Happens to the best of us old girls. But a fresh coat of paint and a trim and we’re good as new.”

He swallowed hard, wrenching his first thought back from escaping his mouth. Trim where?! Haircut, she must mean; it was up in a messy ponytail but it looked shorter than the last time he’d seen her maybe? Haircut.

“Are you old?” was what came out instead.

She laughed and confirmed only, “Older than you. So, what do you think about it?”

“The haircut?”

“The pool?”

“Oh. It looks like shit.” He grinned, hoping it would make her laugh again. It did. 

“I know. But I figured you could fix it up.” A business tone came into her voice as she walked briskly around the pool, making him think she wanted him to follow, so she did. “I’m hoping you can make it nice, whatever that takes, and not that I have to rip it out or anything.”

“Rip out… what? The pool?”

“And put a new one in?”

“Ah, Mrs. Birch, that’s not really how you deal with pools,” he snickered. “It looks concrete, so it’s probably fine under all that shit. If there are cracks in the concrete it might need some repairs but it’s just a residential pool and it’s still full of water, I don’t think it’ll have that problem.”

“But if the concrete stays green, or…?”

He tried not to puff up too much as he assured her, “It won’t be green when I’m done with it. I’ll clean it and paint it. Bob was right, it’s going to be a big job though.” 

Speaking of Bob, Jungkook suddenly wondered if Bob had set him up for this. Had Mrs. Birch requested him, or had Bob just sent him because Jungkook was his best guy? Or was Bob taking on a meddlesome streak and had decided to throw Jungkook into this for other reasons? Surely he wasn’t trying to get more calls of complaint from Tinydick Tim. Surely he hadn’t read too much into Jungkook asking about a Cornelia… no, he must have just forgotten it all, otherwise he would have remembered that Jungkook didn’t want to clean for the Birches anymore and he always respected that kind of thing.

Jungkook looked around, waiting for that piece of shit to come strolling out. The shock of seeing Mrs. Birch began to slide into prepared annoyance. Was he really going to have to go through this whole thing again, watching her noodle-dick husband get away with everything? Jungkook had no interest in making this pool nice for that chode.

Mrs. Birch nodded, “I thought so too.” It Jungkook  a moment to remember what they were even talking about. The job.i

“I’ll give Bob my take and he’ll write an estimate for you. You can get quotes from other places but it’ll be expensive no matter–”

“I don’t need to shop around,” she interrupted. “The estimate will be fine. I trust you. Your work.”

Jungkook didn’t look at her, not wanting to reveal his internal debate. He’d missed seeing her. She looked good. She was nice to work for. But her husband sucked and he just didn’t think he could do this again. He’d tell Bob to send someone else.

So he nodded and just confirmed, “I’ll tell Bob and he’ll write an estimate for you. Thanks for thinking of us to take care of your pool at your new place.”

“Of course.” She sounded guarded now, her expression narrowed like she could pick up on his shift in mood. Actually he could have given her an estimate right there, he had a good idea in mind about it, but he worried it would make it seem like he was doing the work himself, or that she wouldn’t believe the quote, or that Tim would jump out of a bush and pick a fight. Instead he took it upon himself to leave the pool area, heading back towards the gate. He wished he could jump into his truck and peel out, get away from that friendly smile of hers. Damn it was weird to see her again. 

“That’s all you needed to see?” she asked him at the gate.

“Yep.”

“Ok, well… great, then. I’d like the work to begin as soon as possible.”

“Bob will send you the estimate, Mrs. Birch–”

“It’s Arison. It’s not Birch anymore.” 

He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips at this bit of information, not trusting himself to say anything. Even an “oh?” would sound a little too much right now. Also he was pretty sure it would have come out a weird squeak.

“But you can just call me Grace, you know.”

“I’m just trying to be respectful…” he mumbled, stupefied. Divorced. That’s what it meant, right? She was divorced. Not a Birch anymore… Timothy was tossed out with the trash where he belonged! And now she was telling him to call her Grace. His confusion made him stupid anyway and he clarified, “Not Cornelia?”

“I hope not,” she laughed. “Only my dentist and my grandparents call me that. You know I go by Grace.” He did not know this. “Is Cornelia what it says on my account?”

“I’ll fix it,” he lied. “You like ‘Grace’ better?” 

“Wouldn’t you?”

“I thought it… suited you.”

“Ouch. Why does that sound like an insult?” He had never seen her laugh this much before. Divorce looked good on her!

“It’s not! It’s just…”

“An old white woman name? It’s fine. I’m self aware. But no, Grace is fine although it’s not much younger, and–”

“You bought this whole place by yourself?” he blurted out. He still couldn’t comprehend that she was divorced, that Mrs Birch was no longer Mrs Birch but a single woman named Grace. Unless she’d found someone new already. That seemed likely, giving her looks and his luck. Surely a single woman didn’t buy a house like this just for herself. She must be getting married again already.

“I did,” she agreed, then added, “Well, I have a cat now,” then grimaced, “The house is quite a project but I wanted something new to sink my teeth into. It’s a fresh start.”

“A trim.”

“Yes,” she grinned. He hadn’t meant to say that quite, but appreciated her pity laugh. Sink my teeth into. Really, she’d just said that? She had nice teeth. Rich people teeth. He wondered if she’d had braces as a kid –probably– but it was too humanizing, too normal person to associate with her. She might not be Mrs. Birch but she was still a rich white lady and he was a pool boy being hired to fix her pool. Not fuck her on the new patio lounger–

“K, I’ll get started on Monday,” he said without any actual thought about what his Monday schedule was like, or if she and Bob could actually sign a contract by then. He just needed to get out of here and let his brain settle down and that was the first day of the week he thought of. Maybe he had a concussion. Maybe the surfboard actually had him in the head.

“Great. I appreciate it, JK. I’ll see you Monday. Oh, and the code is 1-2-0-1, just let yourself in, in case I’m elbow deep in something and can’t get to the gate.”

Balls deep in–

“Yep, great, that’s not a very secure code though.”

“It’s my birthday.”

“Doesn’t make it a good code,” he snorted. He didn’t know if her sigh was amused or annoyed. Oops. “See ya Monday.”

“Where’s your truck? Oh, you can just park back here next time–”

“Got it, bye!”

He high-tailed it out of there, walking quick until he realized that looked stupid, and then trying to walk slow. He realized now she may not have let him through the front because of all the work being done. She’d given him the code to her gate to just come and go as he pleased. She was single.

Not that that was why she’d given him the code. Of course.

He’d have to ask Bob if he’d been set up on purpose. But he also couldn’t ask Bob, in case he hadn’t been and Bob would then realize that maybe it wasn’t the best idea for Jungkook to work for her. For Grace Arison. You probably shouldn’t work for a woman you’d wanked to… but he thought she was gone! 

Besides, if Bob had set him up, Jungkook didn’t want to give that fucking scheming old man the gratification. He wouldn't do that kind of thing though. Why would he? It wasn’t like he knew what went on in Jungkook’s head anyway.

Thank fuck she didn’t know what was in his head. He could control it though. It was just the shock and maybe a concussion. He was a fucking professional. He’d clean her pool so good. He’d make sure she had the cleanest fucking pool. Clean enough to fuck in– shit, he meant clean enough to eat in– eat food in, to be clear. Well, not that you would want to eat food in the pool… Other things could be nice to eat in a pool, perched on the ledge, legs spread, white bikini tugged to the side, or maybe a red one this time…

He must be concussed, his brain felt completely broken.

Shit.

“Shit for brains, shit for brains, shit for brains,” Grace chanted to herself because she couldn’t find any better words to vent her fury at the man she had stupidly loved for so many years. How? How?! Every interaction with him this past half a year as they dragged themselves towards official divorce had made her question her own intelligence in a way nothing ever had in life. How had she not known how awful he was? How had she fallen for his charm? What charm?! He was vile and she couldn’t believe she’d admired him. Now just seeing his name at the end of an email made her want to vomit.

He wasn’t making things easy for the divorce. They could be almost done but he continued to throw out obstacle after another, arguing with everything their lawyers tried to settle on, even when it didn’t serve him! She’d always thought Tim was a principled man, after all, and it turned out his core principle was to make Grace as miserable as he could. Of course he’d tried to raise a fuss about her buying the house but her attorney had been one step ahead. Now it was unclear whether Tim’s pride or greed would win out in the case of spousal support –a move her attorney seemed to be hoping for so she could rip it apart with the pre-nup. If anything, Tim might owe Grace spousal support, but she didn’t fucking want it. She just wanted to be free!

The phone rang as she drove, a call from her mother she knew she couldn’t answer right now at risk of running off the road or lacing her speech with too many profanities. She’d need to calm down first. Instead she fumed at being stuck in traffic, and then fumed at an Amazon truck pulled across the road, and then fumed at a lady walking her dog too slowly at the crosswalk. She just wanted to be home!

Not that home felt like home yet. The first few days in the house after closing had felt like magic as she floated through rooms on the wings of possibility. But she’d started so many projects so quickly that within days she felt like she was living in a construction site. Which she could handle for a while, but managing so many contractors was a full time job so it felt like she never got to check out. Half didn’t show up when they said they would, getting quotes had been like pulling teeth because no one wanted to put things in writing, and she’d already had two things broken as people worked. 

She could hear poor Foam yowling all the way from downstairs as she put away her keys and purse. She couldn’t let the kitty wander during the day because so many contractors in and out kept leaving doors open and she worried she’d never get him back if he escaped. He didn’t seem to mind being confined upstairs so long as he could keep eyes on Grace, and because he seemed pretty freaked out by boxes, but it just wasn’t possible as she did her own jobs around the house, one right after the other, all in an effort to get this place comfortable for the two of them. As contractors sanded and polished floors, re-tiled bathrooms, and painted just about every square inch of walls and ceilings, Grace followed in their wake hanging curtains, pictures, shelves, building furniture, and cleaning, always cleaning. She’d even replaced two light fixtures on her own, and all the light switch covers, and ripped old wallpaper out of an upstairs bathroom –which had been miserable and led to more contractors hired.

Maybe she ought to be doing more herself, but she didn’t know how and the contractors were supposed to do a good job. Maybe she ought to be doing less, but she wanted to get her hands dirty on this place. Her grandfather had built a cabin all by himself decades ago, learned how to do the wiring and everything, and even though it was secretly a family joke that the place was one surge away from burning down, she’d always admired his skill and determination.

Not to mention, she couldn’t really unpack with so much going on. She hated the feeling of living out of a suitcase. She knew not being able to unpack made this place feel even less settled, but after a whole rack of her clothing wound up covered in white flecks by the first idiot painter she’d hired who sprayed the bedroom without closing the closet door, she’d realized it was better to wait than risk ruining anything. 

But Foam didn’t like it either and let her know with a series of clicks and angry huffs as she sat on the ground and let him crawl all over her. He turned his head away and twitched his tail in anger, then changed his mind and ducked his head beneath her hand for affection. Foam might not be able to hear the voices of the contractors in and out every day, but he could no doubt feel the vibrations of all the work they did and spent most of his time lately hiding behind boxes shoved into the bedrooms that had already been painted, or ripping up Grace’s mattress from the bottom up. That had been a distressing discovery. She wasn’t going to replace it until time to unpack though, in case Foam repeated this form of protest until all the strangers were out of the house. No one could see it anyway, she’d only noticed when fishing some of his toys out from beneath the bed.

“Maybe I fucked up,” Grace admitted to Foam, who would never agree. “I took on too much,” she sighed. Her phone chirped, a message from the lawn guy she’d hired that he would be by to start weeding that afternoon. She was worried he was going to rip up things she didn’t want ripped up. She kept thinking she and the contractors had clear understandings about what was being done, only for them to then do something completely wrong…

The thing was, Tim had always handled this stuff before. Any time there was work that needed to be done on the house, even if she found a company to do it, Tim was the one who talked through it with them, negotiated the payment, made sure they did it, pitched a fit if they didn’t until it got done right. She’d thought his micromanaging was insulting, but he’d insisted it was the only way to make sure things got done right. She didn’t want to believe he may have been right… 

Foam butted his head against the bottom of her chin, surprising her and making her bite her lip. She scratched his head and rubbed her lip, then grumbled as her phone buzzed again, probably another contractor calling that they’d be late. Maybe the furniture place calling to cancel her order again –she was never going to get a fucking couch at this rate. The thought of her mother’s reaction if she bought something from a box store was almost enough to make her laugh.

[Stephanie]: drinks tomorrow night? There’s an art gala you can be my date

Grace didn’t respond. Stephanie, bless her heart, had been trying to drag her out for two months now, ever since Grace had stopped avoiding basically all of her friends. Well, she hadn’t quite stopped, but she’d admitted what was going on. It was embarrassing, admitting the failure of your marriage, admitting that you had been a fool, wondering if they had known it all along. Stephanie had gleefully launched into a tirade about what an asshole Tim was and all Grace could think was have you just watched me and thought how stupid I am for years? And you didn’t say anything?

 Grace felt tired. Bone-deep tired. The house was supposed to be fun but right now she just felt stupid, again. It was all going to be worth it, but it didn’t feel like it right now. She should have just bought a nice new place –maybe it would be impersonal, but she wouldn’t have to work so fucking hard…

She gave Foam some treats which he took to tossing around the bedroom and then dragged her ass downstairs to vent her frustration through manual labor. It looked like the kitchen was going to be the first room in the house to be finished –the new appliances were in, the tile was regrouted, and a new chandelier (not hung by her because she couldn’t even lift the thing) swung overhead. Nothing left to do but paint the cabinets and unpack –she couldn’t stand the shiny oak stain. At least the weather was nice today; she opened all the doors and windows to air out the lingering smell of paint inside.

She’d just finished prying all the doors off to set outside on newspaper when she heard an engine pause behind the back gate. A moment later the gate beeped open, and then the pool guy’s truck crunched across the gravel.

Shit, she’d forgotten he was coming over today! Out of habit, she touched her hair to make sure it wasn’t doing anything crazy. When she’d seen herself in the mirror after his initial inspection, she’d been horrified. It wasn’t like she’d known JK was the guy Bob would send out to do the estimates. She’d been too embarrassed to request him, and then annoyed with herself for not requesting him since she knew he did good work, and then shocked by nerves all over again to find him standing by her bog of a pool. 

The very same JK who’d shouted at her to leave her husband months ago after delivering her a DVD of her husband’s infidelity stepped from the truck now and gave her a short wave. The same relief and shame washed over her as it had the other day. She’d spent his whole visit last time desperate to let him know she was divorced now and also mortified to actually admit it –that he’d been right, that her marriage failed, that she wanted him to know. Only because he’d been tangentially involved in its demise and she wanted him to know that she knew she was stupid to have married Tim in the first place. He knew, she knew, everyone knew now.

Still, maybe it would have been better to never see him again. Maybe she should have called another pool company. And yet she hadn’t thought twice about calling, even knowing there was a chance JK would be sent out. She hadn’t thought twice about agreeing to Bob’s quote for the project –which, she learned, he had expected JK to give her on sight, as he considered JK more than qualified to do so. She had thought twice but still asked if JK would be the one doing the work, and then agreed that was fine when Bob asked if there was an issue. 

JK grabbed two nets on poles from the truck and hauled them across the patio to the pool. Unlike her last house, there was no real poolhouse, just a shed that she’d had completely emptied out of rusted old cob-webbed supplies. 

“Hey!” she called, crossing to intercept him. “I don’t have anything stored for poolcare. Could you make me a list of the things I should have here? That shed is big enough to store anything I need, right? Or do I need a bigger one?”

“Good morning to you too,” he grinned and she flushed at the insinuation she had been rude. She hadn’t meant to be. Just… 

“Yes, good morning,” she agreed even though it hadn’t been and also it was after eleven. She wondered if he’d gone surfing this morning or if his hair always just looked wind-swept like that.

“Sure, I can make you a list but for now I’ll just bring everything I need. It’s going to take me a while to get this thing cleaned up.”

“Yes, I know. Ok, that’s fine.”

“Today I’m just going to get anything big out and start draining it. I’ve got a buddy who will come by later and we’ll trade off watching the pump.”

“Oh… ok…” She didn’t really know what any of this meant except he looked eager to get started and like she might be bothering him. Things had seemed companionable the other day so she’d thought they could both be professional and friendly despite him knowing that embarrassing part of her failed marriage, but now she didn’t appreciate that he made her feel like a pest in her own house.

“Well I’m going to be working out here too today, hopefully I won’t be a distraction.”

“Uh… depends what you’re doing I guess…” he said, suddenly going very still so that she almost crashed into him. 

“Painting cabinets, why?”

“Oh. Nah, that’s fine.”

“Well… good,” she said with a nod. “I’ll hm, leave you to your work then. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Got any Cheetos?” he asked with a crooked grin, then clarified, “I’m kidding, I brought a lunch for later.”

“I’ll see what I can find…” She felt bad now because she did not have Cheetos, or anything else to offer him. She was living off take out and a fruit basket the real estate agent had left for her. Most of the fruit was going bad by now. She didn’t even have sodas or beers, in an effort to force herself to drink more water. It was backfiring because instead she just drank more coffee…

“No, don’t worry about it, I was joking. I brought my own Cheetos. I can share if you’re really that upset about it…”

“Hm? I’m not upset,” she said, brow furrowed in confusion. He looked at her, his brow furrowed with concern too, like she’d said or done something alarming. She didn’t think she had. For a moment they just looked at each other and she wasn’t sure why it was such a heavy feeling moment. What had just happened?! 

“Oh, ok. Well uh…”

“Ok well… let me know if you need anything else.”

She fled, embarrassed to have hovered too long. She didn’t want to be like Tim! 

It took her a while to get all the cabinets spread out and her supplies ready between the patio and driveway, face mask and coveralls ready. She could just barely see the pool area. JK had a big barrel with a bag and had begun fishing around in the pool, scooping up slime and leaves and sticks and who knew what else. It looked pretty awful but he didn’t seem bothered by it, just like it was a normal day for him. Every so often he’d stop to push the hair from his face until he finally pulled a bandana out of his pocket and tied it across his head.

Grace turned her attention from JK, grabbed the finish stripper, slid her facemask and goggles in place and set to work.

**

It was miserable work. Grace discovered quickly that stripping the cabinets was far more onerous of a task than the internet had made it sound. An hour or so later and she’d only managed to strip two of the doors and there were a lot to go. 

In stepping back to survey her paltry work, she realized JK was watching her from the tailgate of his truck where he’d unfurled his lunch.

“You’re really doing it yourself, huh?” he called over.

In an effort to not show that she was exhausted and frustrated, she retorted, “Yes, I like to get dirty.” His look of surprise made her realize her own words, and she quickly added, “My hands dirty. I like to work hard for… things.” With a shake of her head, she turned away under the guise of taking the unflattering safety gear off. She avoided counting the cabinets. Sweat dripped down her back beneath the coveralls, which she decided were not worth it. It was too hot. She might as well just ruin her t shirt and leggings and let that be that.

JK was still watching her, and she didn’t want him to realize she didn’t exactly know what she was doing. She felt like that had been painfully obvious to enough contractors already. She thought of herself as so intelligent and capable and confident and yet when discussing work estimates with contractors to fix things she didn’t understand in the first place, she worried she was just letting herself be taken advantage of over and over again. That’s why she’d gotten divorced, to put an end to that!

“I didn’t know you knew how to do this kind of thing,” he said between sips of a Sprite. “It’s impressive.”

The praise was too much when in fact it was a lie; she felt compelled to correct, “Honestly, I don’t really know what I’m doing.”  She appreciated that he looked surprised, whether it was true or not. “But I’m figuring it out.”

“Still… I mean, most ri– er, people would just pay to have it all done, yeah? That looks like hard work.”

“Many rich people would, yes,” she mused, amused by his self-correction. “My grandfather likes doing this kind of thing. He built his own cabin all by himself. I always thought that was really admirable, to learn how to do things yourself. Maybe the things I do myself in the house won’t be perfect but I’ll see them and know I figured it out. That I did things I didn’t know I could do.”

“That’s really cool,” he grinned. “When I see the things I fix around my place, I just think what a shithead my landlord is.”

“Ah.” She didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t seem insulted that she’d claimed as a hobby something that was a necessity for him, but the comparison made her feel bad. “Well I’m sure you’re much better at this than I am. My arms are already aching and I’ve got a lot to go.”

“You’re scraping them down?”

“Getting the stain off, then I’ll sand, then paint. I’ll have to do this for all the installed parts inside too.”

“Damn,” he snickered. “I’d just hire someone if I were you…”

Grace didn’t know what to say. It was tempting right now, but being witnessed also made her more determined. Even if it was hard, she wanted to look at her cabinets and see perseverance, not capitulation. 

He wadded up the remains of his lunch and tossed them into his truck. By the time he headed back to the pool, the carpet guys had arrived, and Grace took the opportunity of ushering them up to also scrounge up food for herself. Her arms were shaky from the effort so the break was welcome, though eating in the kitchen so ripped apart felt like a regretful step backwards. It was going to take her all week to do these cabinets, probably. 

Her aunt called while she ate and she answered even though her mom was going to give her hell about it, exaggerating the progress on her house since her aunt would never see it anyway. She promised to send pictures and mindlessly mm-hmed through her aunt’s family gossip. JK was done digging detritus from the pool it seemed and was running a very long hose all the way across her yard. It made her nervous, as she realized he might be about to dump all the water onto her property. She hadn’t thought about where the water from draining the pool would go, but already envisioned her flooded, ruined lawn.

“Hey!” she called, striding across the patio as soon as she’d said a hasty farewell to her aunt. “JK!”

“Yeah?” He squatted beside some sort of contraption he was hooking the hose up to.

“Um… what are you doing?”

“I’m going to drain the pool now.”

“But… where?”

“For now I’m going to put it into your front yard.”

“Won’t it flood my yard?” she asked nervously. “The lawn guys are coming to start work this afternoon…” She looked around because actually they ought to already be here.

“If I just let it go forever maybe. I’m hoping that because your yard has a bit of slant, most of the water will go down under the streets out front and away from your place. I’ll keep an eye on it though, if it starts to pool, I’ll move it and we’ll dump a few other places in the yard. I want to keep it away from this area though because…” He looked at her, as if assessing whether she actually cared. She did. She wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to ruin her property but also it was clear he had a rationale for his choices, and that was interesting. He was good at what he did. 

“Because why?”

“Well I’m pulling all the water out of this pool, right? So now there isn’t water holding the pool walls in place. The dirt outside the pool is going to be pressing on the walls without anything pressing back, and if I dump a bunch of water in the dirt around it, there will be even more pressure. If your pool was fiberglass or acrylic, it could pop out of the ground. That rarely happens with concrete ones but it still could, I don’t want to risk it.”

“Oh.”

“When I got the permit Friday I was hoping I could just–”

“You got a permit?” she interrupted.

“Uh… yeah. This is like 30,000 gallons of water, you can’t just dump it,” he pointed out. She hadn’t thought about that at all. “You’ve got to dechlorinate, debrominate, and dump in an approved place and manner. I already tested it though and the water is so old all the chemicals already broke down, saves me some time.”

“There’s a lot more to it than I realized…”

“Well that’s why you hired me, huh?” he beamed. “So I can be the one to think about it. So for now I’ll dump around your property –it won’t hurt the plants, I checked the levels of everything.”

“And it won’t flood anything?”

“Nah, I’ll watch it. If it did start to pool, I can get another permit that lets me dump into the sewer system, but I have to prove it’s not possible to dump on the property. I think it’ll be fine.”

Grace didn’t have any real reason to argue. He seemed confident and like he had a lot of experience with this. She had none.

“Ok then, sounds like you’ve got it all under control.”

He assured her, “I promise I’m not going to kill your jungle.”

“Thank you. I’ll leave you to your work then. I’ve got stripping to do.”

“Cabinets,” he said, cluing her into what she’d just said. 

She clapped a hand to her face and mumbled. “Yes, cabinets…” and walked quickly away. Why did she have to sound like such an idiot in front of contractors? She glanced back and saw him shaking his head and she wanted to shrivel up. 

 She really put her back into the stripping, determination restored. She was glad that’s how the carpet contractors found her when they came down to ask some questions. The day was nice to be out working in, sunny but not yet too hot. She put music on to have something to work towards and made a mental note to upgrade the sound system soon. She only owned a single CD and so had to roll through the radio stations instead of just listening to what she wanted, but it was all commercials so she went back to her music.

JK passed by to his truck again, and this time returned with his own goggles and mask. He looked hot with them propped on his forehead over the bandana, arms and neck all sweaty from his hard work so far. 

“Here to help with the stripping,” he announced, then gave her a cheeky grin and added, “Cabinets.” Grace failed to hold back the roll of her eyes –while flattered he was comfortable teasing her, she didn’t appreciate the evidence that the pool guy was probably another man in her life who had charmed her blind, and probably every other woman he came across. At least she got good pool work out of him, unlike her unhappy painful marriage with Tim.

He picked up the stain stripper can and looked it over, at which point she realized he really did mean to help.

“Wait, why– you aren’t here to do this.”

“I know, but I just need to monitor the pump for the next…” he looked at his wrist that didn’t have a watch, “Fourteen hours or so.”

“What?!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll sleep out here.”

“Wait, but–”

“I’m joking. My buddy will by this afternoon to watch it until dinner. Then we’ll let the ground settle and finish it tomorrow. I’ve got nothing to do now except check on it though so I’ll help you with this.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she insisted. “This is hard work. You could just read a book or something.”

“Oh yeah let me just dig through all the books I have in my work truck… nah, I’ll help. You’ve got a lot of cabinets here.”

“You really don’t have to. I feel bad. I mean, I can pay you for your help, just tell me how much–”

“You got something else to play?” he asked, pointing to the sky –by which he meant the music, she realized. Her only CD, Celine Dion’s greatest hits. She’d stolen it from her sister over a decade ago and it had somewhere traveled with her this far.

“No, the system only uses CDs.”

“Ok let’s deal with that first, let me show you what I’ve got with me.”

Grace felt like this day was getting very out of hand and yet led him to the system’s command console once he’d hauled a big CD binder from his truck. He let her flip through the book and she found herself captivated by this glimpse into his music taste. Lots of rock, ranging from Metallica to Red Hot Chili Peppers to Green Day to–

“Olivia Rodrigo?” she said with surprise.

“Yeah, what about it?” he asked. “It’s a good album.”

“So you still buy CDs. I thought you were young…”

“I get tired of YouTube ads. Besides, owned media is an investment.” She couldn’t tell if he was making fun of her or not.

“Well I don’t know anything about her but she’s the new pop girl, huh? I’ve heard her name a lot lately.”

“She’s rock-pop,” he countered. “You don’t like rock music?”

“I do, I guess. I don’t know that I pay much attention to what’s popular.”

“You like Celine Dion and what else?”

“I listen to a lot of classical,” she admitted. “And… dance? Or whatever is on the radio…” She was embarrassed now to admit that while she liked music, she didn’t have any very strong preferences. A lot of oldies played on her Pandora station because it was familiar and reminded her of what her parents had listened to growing up. Classical soothed her. Dance and dance-pop reminded her of her younger days going out with friends. Tim had liked jazz and classic rock; she doubted she’d ever be able to listen to any of it again without shivering.

“You don’t know much about music?”

“Not really,” she admitted.

“Damn. Let’s start with Olivia’s album then and work our way back from,” he said, popping the CD in. She didn’t really understand what that meant but felt like letting him pick the music while he helped her was only fair.

JK was a workhorse when it came to stripping the cabinets. She was stunned by how much more quickly the work went with the two of them, largely because his brute strength got the stain off much faster than she could. Granted, she found it distracting watching him mouth along to Olivia Rodrigo’s lyrics I’m a perfect all-American bitch with perfect all-American lips and perfect all-American hips.

Occasionally he’d go to check the pump. Occasionally she got called away by the carpet contractors, or the lawn guys showing up and needing guidance. The Olivia album ended and JK put on the next one.

“Who’s this?” she asked, trying not to notice the way the muscles of his bare arms glistened and flexed as he scraped at the cabinet door.

“Arctic Monkeys. Seemed like a good next step. Everyone likes the Arctic Monkeys.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Damn,” he laughed again. She didn’t know what he thought that said about her but decided it wasn’t anything good. She felt embarrassed not to know this music that “everyone” liked. 

“Are they really that famous?”

“They’re doing all right,” he shrugged. “This album is from 2007 though.” Grace tried to recall what she had been doing in 2007. She’d just graduated high school and was headed to college… “I mean, I was only in like fifth grade but my older brother liked them and I liked anything he liked, you know?”

Grace choked. She turned to the side and coughed. Well that was a timely reminder that this hot guy was very, very young.

“You ok? You didn’t eat any of it, did you?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she assured him, and focused on the scraping and forced her eyes back to the straight and narrow.

He didn’t make it easy though. Only a song later, he sang along quietly with the lyrics, a steady stream of words that flowed without break for breath:

“Running off over next door's garden Before the hour is done It's more a question of feeling Than it is a question of fun The confidence is the balaclava I'm sure you'll baffle 'em good Will the ending reek of salty cheeks And runny makeup alone?”

“You have a nice voice,” she couldn’t help but remark.

He beamed and seemed to look away as he mumbled, “Ah, thanks… I’m in a band.”

“What? Really?”

He laughed at something she didn’t understand and admitted, “Yeah…”

“I didn’t know that. You never said.”

“It’s not that big a deal, just a hobby thing.”

“You’re the singer?”

“No no, I’m the drummer.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah it’s just a little thing with my friends but we play in bars and stuff– we’ve placed in competitions sometimes.” There was a grunt underlying his words as he scrapped and turned, scraped and turned. “You should check us out.”

“Hm, maybe I will,” she said, quickly and without conviction. She thought the last thing she should do was go somewhere specifically to watch this much younger guy who was working on her house drum in a band. 

Once upon a time she’d been college-age and gone to concerts with her girl friends and fantasized about meeting up with the band afterwards. And now she was a grown woman with no need to confuse those things, especially with the guy fixing her pool. Especially, she realized, since she technically could now. She wasn’t married. She was allowed the fantasy, allowed to meet someone, allowed to fuck around with someone in a band like her younger self had wanted to. 

It was too much, a rush of reality she wasn’t prepared for. Her divorce wasn’t even finished yet, she definitely wasn’t ready to wander down any paths of fantasy –and most certainly not ones that in any way would make her uncomfortable around a contractor who’d be at her house a lot for the next week at least and then every other week for the future beyond that.

This poor guy just wanted to brag about his band and here she was having a mental crisis because it had dawned on her that soon she’d be free to fuck around. Would she want to? How did people even do that?! Was she a fuck-around sort of woman or a lifer type? She had been relatively restrained in college and married Tim so young… she couldn’t picture herself suddenly turning into the sort of woman a rock star would invite backstage. Honestly, she didn’t even know how the opposite sex would react if she did start trying to date. What type would she be into? What type would be into her? And, most importantly, how did she make sure she didn’t get fooled into another Tim?

“You ok?” JK asked, setting his finished cabinet door aside and stretching forward to grab another. He reached and the sleeve of his tank moved to reveal the nastiest bruise she’d ever seen, a whorl of purple and black and brown that made her skin crawl.

“Oh my god, what happened to your shoulder?!”

“Oh, surfing accident.”

“Are you ok?!”

“I asked you first,” he teased.

“I’m fine, just momentarily overwhelmed by reality but your shoulder…”

“I’m fine, just got momentarily overwhelmed by a surfboard that didn’t see me.”

“That sounds dangerous!”

“It was but I’m fine. Just a little stiff.” He set the fresh cabinet door down in front of him and cleared his throat. “I’m working it out though. It’s fine. Ah… reality you want to talk about or something…?”

“Hm?”

“Nothing, nevermind.”

She felt like she’d said something wrong based on his sudden silence but couldn’t figure out what. He shook his head.

“Are you sure this isn’t hurting your shoulder?”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m going to check on the pump.” He jumped up quickly and disappeared, which gave her a welcome moment to brush away the concern that had made her want to reach for his shoulder. It looked so bad! Holy shit! Leave it to a guy like that to shrug off such an injury. She’d be laid up in bed for a week and here he was not only working, but doing extra work to help her. 

She heard a truck at the gate and the buzzer. Assuming it was reinforcements for either the carpet-guys upstairs or the lawn guys tromping around her front yard, she left her things for a moment and went straight to open the gate herself.

The man at the gate hopped out of his truck and held his hand out in greeting, forward in a way that immediately put her on guard.

“Hi there, ma’am, the name’s Jon, your husband reached out about solar panels?”

“Hm? You must have the wrong place,” Grace said, not yet taking his hand.

“501? I don’t think so– ah, sir!” he called and brushed right past her to approach JK. “I believe you had some questions about solar panels? I’m happy to talk to you about our program and–”

“Who are you?” JK asked, then quickly amended, “I didn’t talk to anyone about anything.”

“That’s all right, since I’m in the neighborhood and I understand you recently bought the property, I’d be happy to talk to you about–”

“Ah, no. That lady you just blew off owns this place. I’m just here to pump and strip.”

Grace choked again, and coughed into her hand to hide her laugh. She didn’t know what was funnier, JK’s easy deferment to her in the face of such bold sexism, his repetition of her egregious verbal slip earlier, his addition to make it worse, or the fact he did not seem to have done it on purpose. He looked immediately regretful and reached up to scratch the back of his head, his grimace with a shade of apology.

“I’m just the pool guy,” he clarified, as this Jon turned to her with his own shades of regret.

“Sorry, I believe even if I need solar, it won’t be with–” She leaned to read the company name off his truck. “You can leave now, goodbye.”

Jon tried to stammer his way through an apology but Grace was over men’s shitty apologies. After her sharper, “Leave my property now,” he fled. 

“A day in the life of a woman calling the shots,” she murmured as she headed back to the cabinets.

“Hey I’m just flattered he thought anything about me looks like a potential owner of this place,” JK laughed.

“What does that mean?”

“I think it means he’s more sexist than racist?”

Grace didn’t suppress the laugh this time. It was a smart observation. It hadn’t occurred to her that JK would look any less an owner of this place than she did right now other than the fact he looked so young, since both were in a similar state of sweaty filth.

“Guess he thought I’m the mother-in-law?”

“Come on, you aren’t that old. I mean–”

“Not that old!” she repeated with a laugh. “Thanks, JK. You’re so charming.”

“I just meant… I didn’t mean it like that,” he grumbled. “I don’t even know how old you are… I don’t think you’re that old…”

She decided not to tell him, whether he was asking or not. It didn’t seem like something he needed to know. Information not relevant to pumping and stripping. 

“Ready for a new CD?” he asked suddenly, overly loud. “We’ll go back further in time– not because you’re old! But just because… uh… let me see what I’ve got, have you heard of Red Hot Chili Peppers?”

“Oh come, JK, I’m not a total idiot. Everyone’s heard of the Red Hot Chili Peppers.”

“Ok ok, I didn’t mean to insult you. This is a safe space for your musical education. What about… Linkin Park? Kings of Leon? Avenged Sevenfold? Rise Against? I was listening to that on the other day… ah, maybe that’s a little too…”

“A little too what?” she glowered, crossing her arms and following him to the console and his open CD book beside it. “If you say too young–”

“Too angry,” he clarified. 

“Hm…” She didn’t really know what he meant, but suspected it might mean the music was loud and hard and shouty. She probably wouldn’t like it. But her curiosity was piqued that he’d been listening to it on the way over –because he was angry too, or just because he liked it? She wanted to know what he’d been listening to. It was interesting learning about the music he liked. Young people. Being married to Tim had made her old, and she wanted to reclaim some of her youth. She wasn’t that old! “Let’s give it a try.”

“Ok, if you don’t like it, I can change it.”

“I’m going through a rather unpleasant divorce right now. Angry might be just my flavor.”

“Ah, sorry to hear that. I mean that it’s unpleasant, not that you’re getting divorced.”

She realized she shouldn’t have said that. And he probably shouldn’t have said that either, and now looked as uncomfortable as she’d felt. The line felt weird right now, because he knew this about her, and they’d known each other a while, but he was young and hired help and just being friendly –but Grace wasn’t sure a man and woman so many years apart could actually be friends, so there had to be some line of professionalism in there somewhere. The thought of accidentally crossing the line and making this nice guy uncomfortable actually sickened her. She didn’t want to be some gross older predatory woman. She wasn’t actually a cougar!

“Whatever you want to listen to is fine,” she insisted, and scurried back to the cabinets. He joined again a moment later as intense electric guitar roared around the patio. It was definitely a different vibe. She looked up just in time to see one of the carpet guys stick his head out the window and make a rock symbol with his hand. JK returned the gesture while Grace laughed. 

Well, as long as the men working on her house were all happy. And hey, the beat was really good, and there was a melody that was actually really nice to listen to even if she couldn’t quite catch all the words. The drums were fast. She wondered if JK could play that kind of thing, and what he looked like–

Nope. She only meant it as an innocent curiosity, but she wouldn’t indulge even that. He was being incredibly kind helping her with the cabinets now, and that would be that. Not to mention a small part of her still worried he was going to flood her house away. He sounded like he knew what he was talking about and she’d never had an issue with his work before, but could he really know so much while he was so young? It was very impressive to be that knowledgeable at his age…

“Oh wait, I’ve heard this,” she realized with surprise. “A long time ago, I think…”

“See? You know more than you think you do.” 

“I sure hope so. We’ll see if you still think that when I start sanding these cabinet doors. And before you ask: yes, I’ve done it before… a long time ago.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” he insisted. “I would never underestimate you.”

“Thanks, JK. That’s really kind of you to say.”

He nodded but the words from his mouth next were song lyrics, as strong and steady and pleasant to listen to as the professional voice on the CD. He seemed really good at it, singing. That was crazy to her that he wasn’t even the band’s singer. He must just be really gifted at music. She was very, very much not. He seemed to have such talent, she wondered if he only sang this hard, fast style or if he could do slower too.

Singing! She was thinking about singing! She hadn’t had any issue with these kinds of thoughts a single day of her divorce so far. Was it a good sign something inside her was healing, or waking up, or whatever? Well she was certainly not going to put poor young JK in the middle of whatever divorcee sexual rebirth was stirring inside of her! Maybe it was just hormonal; she was ovulating or something. Awkward. 

“Miss, you want to see…?” Jacob the lawn guy motioned to her from across the driveway, like he didn’t want to interrupt. He wanted to ask her preference on something. He was kind too, like JK, even if he wasn’t great at being on time. But she believed he was going to do good work. She thought the carpets were going to look good upstairs. She was doing ok, finding the people to do a good job of the things she couldn’t or didn’t want to, doing a good job of the things she wanted to try. And sometimes help came in surprising places, like a pool guy who helped her strip cabinet doors while he pumped her pool.

Literally. A literal pool being pumped dry.

Good lord.

Chapter Three | Masterlist | Chapter Five

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