Incoming: Elite Chatboy (pt. 5)

Incoming: Elite Chatboy (pt. 5)

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4

→ pairing: sex chat worker jk x reader (feat. taehyung)

→ genre: text au (smau without the social media), smut, humor

→ scenario: welcome to Elite Chatroom, a sex chat company with a wide variety of services such as text messaging, phone call, and video chat. you signed up online for the most basic text service plan not knowing what to expect, but you certainly didn’t think you’d end up actually liking the man behind the screen.

→ warning: sexting, professional dom jungkook, teasing bratty sub reader, crack humor amidst explicit dirty talk, mutual masturbation, argument angst, jealousy, possessiveness, degradation, praise kink. mentions of: fist fucking, exhibitionism, nipple play, creampie, oral, face fucking.

→ a/n: IVE FINALLY UPDATED!!! so sorry for the wait everyone, i just wanted to be 100% happy with this chapter and now i think i am :”) a big thank you to @mercurygguk who really helped me figure things out, thank u sm cami i love our brain cell <3 the taglist is LONG and will be at the bottom of the chapter and the rest will overflow into reblogs, so if i didnt tag you or tumblr fucks it up somehow i apologize!! enjoy reading <3

→ ***IT IS EXTREMELY IMPORTANT THAT YOU READ THE DETAILS OF ELITE CHATROOM’S AUTOMATED MESSAGES TO UNDERSTAND WHAT IS HAPPENING WITH THE LOGISTICS OF THIS CHAPTER***

Keep reading

Sugar (C)Rush Short: Heated 🔞

In which you finally get what you want, but its more than you'd thought.

Tags/Warnings: Wolf!Jungkook, Dog!Reader, Smut, NSFW, Slow sex, protected sex because we wrap it up in this household, knotting oops, a lot of.. fluids, very fluff, soft, so soft, nesting, biting?, they're so cute

Length: 2k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook is definitely not in a hurry, that's for sure.

He seems entirely content watching you struggle on his lap, grinding into his hand for any sort of relief, though it's not that easy. "Have you ever spent it with anyone before?" He asks gently, tucking some of your hair behind your ear before his hand holds your lower back again, giving you a sense of security on your position on his lap.

You shake your head, and he chuckles, curling his finger a little, which makes you jump from the sudden movement. "So I'm your first?" He wonders, and you nod, stilling a little.

"Is that.. bad?" You ask, a little confused and also out of breath, but he laughs, and shakes his head.

"Means I don't have to compete first of all-" He jokes, before leaning back a bit further, and pushing your behind forward- making you realize rather quickly what exactly you're now sitting on. "-but also makes me wanna make sure I'll stay your one and only." He hums with a dark gaze, something that makes you squirm a little.

"But-" You worry a little, ears tilted backwards, as his hand reaches out to caress your cheek. "-you're a wolf? Don't you wanna.. have fun, you know, until you find your mate?" You ask, and he smiles at you, shrugging.

"Who says I haven't found it already?" He tells you charmingly, making you shy away a little from him. "I'm not joking." He tells you, and you're not sure what to say now.

"Can we.. maybe, nest together?" You ask, quietly as if you don't want to be heard- but he hears it clearly, and nods.

"Of course. We don't have to do anything at all-" He tells you, but you shake your head, without thinking pressing down a little on his pretty obvious tent in his pants, making him groan out.

"Oh- sorry-" You apologize, but he's still smiling, taking it lightly. "But uh.. I do want to, but like, I don't know.. properly?" You wonder, and he nods, understanding.

"Of course." He smiles, helping you onto your feet to go gather all the blankets you think might be necessary for a proper nest- constantly looking at Jungkook for reassurance, which he happily provides. You're worried the longer you take the less he'll be interested in.. well, that, but it doesn't seem like he's bothered at all.

It's relaxing, comfortable. Makes you feel more at ease than you thought you would be.

You're not sure what to really do as you move the blankets and pillows around in the living room, but he's quick to help you in that task. And as soon as he realizes you're satisfied with it as you lean into the sides of the nest, finally laying down to rub your scent all over it, he's all over you. His hands are pressing your back into his front, face in your neck as he nips at the skin, teeth biting playfully, not enough to hurt.

He's still just playing around.

But you want more.

You let yourself fall down onto your back beneath him, eagerly accepting his heated kisses while you squirm under his exploring hands. Unbeknownst to you, your scent is already driving him crazy- but he's using all of his willpower to control himself and take things slow. Not just for your sake-

But also because he really enjoys seeing you so desperate.

He complies with your wordless request to lose his shirt- and while you're a little bit intimidated, you try and stay calm. It's not like you believe he'd hurt you. It's more the insecurity of your currently very much not as lean body he's about to see, lower stomach a little bloated from the hormones rushing through you- for once without any medication to control them.

But he doesn't seem appalled at all once he pulls your top over your head. If anything, he appears to be even more eager now, hands running over your warm skin, lips kissing your neck and shoulder. "You're so pretty." He compliments randomly, breathlessly, and you can't do much more than whine, tail wagging. "Hm?" He chuckles, leans back on his heels as he pulls your legs over one of his shoulders, pulling both your shorts and underwear off in one go, before he lets them fall down somewhere in the distance. Your legs are lowered again, and so is he- mouth and hand on you now, clearly starting to explore what makes you feel the best.

His fingers feel foreign inside you, so much better than your own, and you can't help but buck your hips a little at the sensations of it all. His tongue is warm, sometimes running flat over your heat, and occasionally, he closes his lips over your sensitive nerves to gently suck. It's all so new and unclear- you never really know what's coming next, and maybe for once, you're not scared about that fact. Because it's him- and he knows what's best, right?

Once he's pleased with whatever he's been doing to you does he open his own jeans, finally getting rid of the last pieces of clothing hiding his skin away from you.

And one look is enough for you to now know why he'd brought that.. bottle of clear lube with him.

"You know, I brought the lube for a reason.." He almost.. shyly tells you, hand teasing you between your legs, almost playfully coating his own fingers in your clear arousal. "..but I don't think I actually need it." He teases, before he moves to roll the condom over himself, the hand that's been occupied with you just moments prior now running over the entirety of his length base to tip, making you swallow almost impatiently at the sight. "If anything hurts-" he starts, but you just whimper in complaint.

"-I'll tell you. Please-!" You beg, legs pulled close to your stomach to present to him, and he can't help the soft growl that escapes him at the sight of your submissive impatience, skin all flushed and hips unable to stay still it seems. The hairs of your fluffy tail stick together in little groups at the base, wet from your own arousal having slowly traveled down, slowly reaching the sheets below you by now.

He pulls on your knees before be adjusts your position to his preference- having you lay somewhat sideways, one leg held by his hand under your thigh over his waist while the other stays on the bed, comfortably stretched out. He doesn't need much help even from himself to find your entrance, tip easily slipping inside, and he can already feel you clenching around nothing. "So needy.." he teases, before he pushes quite a bit, a sigh leaving you as you feel him filling you up inch by inch.

He goes slow, steady, let's you adjust for as long as you have to, patiently scanning your body and face for any signs of discomfort as he moves along. He's making your head spin and thoughts go silent, nothing on your mind but him- as you slowly let yourself go, very much aware of what's happening to you- and one look is shared with him, before you let your instincts take control, his own reacting almost immediately.

And then he pulls back, just to push back in with a lot more force than before, a wet smack accompanying the motion. You can't keep your voice quiet, the moan escaping you soft but audible, and he smiles to himself, watching you. He does it again, leans over you now, free hand pushing into the blankets you're laying on right next to your waist, lips finding yours in a heated kiss.

Now you understand what other hybrids mean when they say how good your heat can feel with the right partner.

The deeper he goes, the more your body feels like it's on a Rollercoaster- that distinctive feeling in your stomach making your hips writhe while he leans back a little, holding your thigh to keep you close while his hips move sinfully. Normally, your mind would be full of worry.

But right now, it's just filled with the need for pleasure- the need to be as close as you can to him.

"So good.." he sighs, eyes focusing on the sticky strings of your arousal clinging to his skin already, wet sounds accompanying every soft thrust he delivers to you, slow moving, everything still casual, soft, gentle- and he plans to keep it this way, for now, to slowly ease you into it. He can't wait to breed you properly one day, make love to you until your body gives up- but for this time, he behaves, goes slow, let's you adjust.

This isn't about him, after all. It's all about you, and the connection you're creating in this moment.

And he can't say that he's missing anything either- though true, that he's typically a more.. active lover, always needing a certain sense of excitement and primal form of aggression, but for the first time, he doesn't actually mind this slow love at all. He enjoys this fully, if only for the look on your face, head pushed back into the pillows below, soft sighs and eager whining coming from you, as you stretch your arms above your head, back arching in pleasure. You're pushing yourself closer to him, leg now moving to turn yourself over onto your back instead, ankles pulling yourself closer as your heels push against the small of his back, making his hips snap against you a little harsher, skin against skin now louder in the room.

"Such a pretty girl.." He hums breathlessly, hands grabbing at your thighs as he pulls you closer, your legs becoming restless as you begin to clearly chase your first high. your tone raises in pitch, breaths coming shorter, as you clench around his length inside you, and he himself can feel his own high approaching as well. His hands become eager to touch, your skin too warm and soft and enticing to not run his fingers over, the need to feel you suffocating almost.

It's then that he changes positions once more, now leaning over you, lips catching yours in a heated kiss that's clearly trying to steal your breath. His tongue is eager to taste you, and you willingly let him, all shame thrown out the window as he picks up the pace, finally giving you the last push you needed as you whine out, tipping over the edge as he snaps his hips into yours, moving to instead bite at your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone. He needs to mark you up, has to claim you, because if this isn't love, then love has to be a lie.

He has to keep you. Needs you at his side forever. You're it for him, and he knows it- realizing only seconds after his knot locks him inside you, that the bond between you both has snapped into place.

Mates.

He never thought it was actually a real thing- always somehow thought it was just a very romanticized fictional story people talk about when they think of their partners. Like soulmates, it was just a pretty little story to him- but this? This is real. So much so that it almost hurts.

He holds you close long after you both reached your highs, and it's not just because of his knot keeping you locked inside you. It's also to bond with you fully, arms reaching to adjust the nest around you, pulling the blankets closer to support your back, while he makes sure to not make you uncomfortable or hurt you by moving too much.

You on the other hand just cling to him and his warm skin, his scent and his care and his overall emotional energy keeping you close, as if there's an invisible string keeping you attached. You don't know it yet- you'll probably figure it out once you're in a more rational headspace again, however. But for now, it doesn't matter.

For now, you just exist.

For now, you're both just simply in love.

Before I Leave You Pt.57

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You, Hobi, and a dead body are not things that Jin wants to think about in the same sentence.

Tags: Limited Horror, limited Gore, panic attacks, breakdowns, unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol, drinking to forget, trauma, trauma bonds, Namjoon has dad energy and daddy energy, overprotective behavior, babbying, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, implied/referenced passed trauma, Short smut sections, tae’s dick is briefly referred to as a clit, trans! tae, role playing, wlw, brief virginity play, brief mention of spanking, unintended voyeurism, 

W/c: 7.7k

A/N: Ahhhhh I wasn’t happy with this chapter for the vast majority of me writing it, my life is about to get very stressful very quickly so don’t be surprised if i go mia for a few days <3 any love you can throw my way this next week will be!!! very very needed and welcome!

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

It’s nearing 5 am and the sun is only just rising.

The fog hangs over the crashing waves like a heavy shroud, reflecting the flashing blue and red lights harder, making them more vibrant. The ocean Turns deep and angry as the low tide shifts. Loud and blocking out the sound of everything, even the sirens and commotion of no less than 3 dozen FBI agents, about 8 different medical personnel, and 3 very disgruntled police officers.

You, Hobi, and a dead body are not things that Jin wants to think about in the same sentence.

Keep reading

(Un)natural Instincts (Part 2)

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, future smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: torture collars, needles, mention of past dubcon (hybrids under influence of the synthetic hormones cannot properly consent), more inaccurate business talk,

____

It’s 7am the next day when your actual assistant shows up at your door, with your precious Americano in hand.

“I heard about the coffee mishap yesterday, so I thought I’d bring you this a little earlier than usual.”

“You are my savior.”

Yoongi laughs as you invite him in. Your assistant is one of the few people you found you could let your guard down around. He’s probably the closest thing you have to a friend.

“Is everything alright with you? You never call off work, and you didn’t reply to the message I sent.”

“Sorry, there was a lot going on. Everything’s fine now, just had a little scare with my mom’s blood pressure. She’s good though!”

“Oh thank god. Are you sure you don’t need more days off to take care of her?”

“My brother is keeping an eye on her, but I very much appreciate the sentiment.”

“Of course. Don’t hesitate to step out when you need. Or if you need help with her medical bills, I’m always here.”

“Woah woah, calm down there before I start spreading a rumor that you’re actually a nice person Y/N.”

You roll your eyes and laugh, “Don’t you dare.”

But the joking atmosphere only lasts for two seconds before your mood turns solemn.

“I’m actually so far from a nice person you wouldn’t believe it.”

And so it goes, you explaining the entire fiasco of last night. You know you deserve the judgy look he tries to hide when you get to how easily you caved in. But there’s also sympathy in his eyes, because he’s one of the few people in the world who would even try to understand where you’re coming from.

“That’s not all…they also…um…gave me one.”

He looks puzzled.

“They gave you a collar? But you don’t even have a hybrid.”

You take a deep breath before uttering the next sentence.

“They gave me a hybrid.”

“WHAT?!”

“Shhh! Keep your voice low, he’s sleeping in one of the guest rooms right now!”

He switches to a whisper yell instantaneously.

“You took a hybrid home with you? Are you insane?!”

“Maybe I am. I don’t know, I wasn’t exactly acting with a plan. I just couldn’t send him back to get tortured. You should see him Yoongi, he looks like he’s been through hell and back.”

The man’s eyes softened.

“I don’t know how you’re going to get yourself out of this mess, but I guess I’m getting dragged into it with you, aren’t I?”

“You can always quit, you know. I’d give you a cushy desk job somewhere in the company.”

“Eh I’ll wait. I’m still not fed up with you yet, even if I think you’re actually insane for this. So is the hybrid going to just lounge around here while you’re at work? Shouldn’t there be some supervision?”

You nod.

“Yeah, I notified the housekeepers already, told them I’d pay extra if they take care of him for me. His name’s Jungkook by the way. 60% human and 40% gray wolf.”

“40% is a lot.”

He’s right. The very few pet wolf hybrids in the market right now are 25% wolf, as that’s the max percentage before they get too dangerous to handle.

“Yeah, but I’m more of a threat to him than he is to me at this point.”

___

The workday is long, and you’re mentally not even there. Every five minutes, you’re thinking about Jungkook and how he’s doing. Thankfully, the housekeepers keep sending you updates to assure you he’s doing fine.

You scroll through with relief, reading what he’s up to throughout the day. Apparently, he was terrified of the shower, but had no problem drawing himself a bath. Another text let you know he loves the omelet the chef prepared for lunch. And the rest of the texts are just notifying you that he’s resting in his room at various points in the day. So far so good, thankfully.

With your mind at some ease, you can actually focus on work.

You get your hands on everything Pet Paradise can give on the Obedience Collar before officially signing a contract. There’s information that’s classified, mainly the patent for the synthetic hormones, but the books and research procedures are documented in the files in front of you. And unfortunately, they look spotless. The money is all there in a clear trail, no gaps or unusual patterns, and the research procedure follows all protocol needed. You want to just hide under your desk and avoid this entire situation.

You’re scheduled to tour the research facility tomorrow, and the last thing you want to do is see five more hybrids as scared as Jungkook—especially knowing you can’t scoop these ones up and take them home. But you’re holding out hope. There’s still a chance that something’s wrong at the facilities, something not shown on paper. At this point you’d settle for the smallest thing and find a way to blow it up so the whole operation has to be shut down. You’ve got some of the best lawyers in the country, so you might as well use them. You just need something to be wrong.

It's around 6:45pm when you arrive home, and one of the housekeepers greets you with a warm smile, immediately jumping into how well-behaved Jungkook is. It makes you wince to hear him described like that, especially knowing the amount of needles piercing his skin just to achieve the “well-behaved” status.

The staff all leave as you arrive, knowing you like them to be done by the time you're back. The chef has already left hours earlier, as he usually prepares dinner in advance and keeps it in the fridge.

Jungkook’s door is slightly ajar, and you peek in to see the boy melted into the bed. It’s weird; he looks a lot more tired than yesterday, eyes barely keeping themselves open. It’s probably the hormones, you conclude somberly.

“Jungkook, it’s time for dinner. Come on out.”

The boy takes the last bit of energy he has to trudge to the dinner table, and you put a heated up bowl of kimchi-jjigae down. You sit across and join, noticing that the stew is extra flavorful today.

“Mhmm, Chef Gyu really outdid himself with this one. And I bet the omelet was just as delicious. I was told you loved it, is that true?”

You look over expecting an answer, but what you see instead is Jungkook almost falling asleep right into the bowl before catching himself at the last minute.

Maybe the side effect of the hormones make him too sleepy to do anything?

Your thoughts are interrupted by your ringtone. It’s Chef Gyu.

“Hello Chef, I was just singing your praises for this food.”

There’s a nervous chuckle at the other end of the line.

“Thank you Y/N, glad you and your new friend liked it.”

“Is something wrong? You usually don't call this late.”

“Um, yes, actually. The reason I called is because of your hybrid.”

“What do you mean? I was told he stayed in his room for most of the day. Did he cause you any trouble?”

You look over, but Jungkook is too exhausted to register that you’re talking about him.

“No, none at all. He was extremely polite. The problem was the housekeeping staff…they didn’t do any of the work today.”

You feel a pit in your stomach, putting the pieces together.

“Did they…did they make Jungkook clean the house?”

“Yes Miss. They were watching TV for practically the whole time. I should’ve told you earlier, but I told myself it wasn’t my place. I’m deeply sorry.”

“Thank you for telling me now. I appreciate it a lot. I have to go.”

You hang up abruptly, seething the minute the phone is cut.

There’s a million different ways your mind is conjuring up of how to ruin the housekeeping agency, make them cry bankruptcy as you blacklist them from working anywhere ever again. The rage inside you is glowing red, and the only thing getting you to calm down at all is your objective of getting Jungkook back into bed before he actually does fall asleep into his dinner. You support his weight gently, grateful that he’s awake enough to zombie-walk wherever you lead him. It’s only when he’s tucked under the blankets do you let the anger stir up again.

They made him clean the entire house by himself. A house that usually takes eight people to clean, they made him do all alone so they could kick back and relax with your flatscreen TV. It astonishes you how cruel people can be, how they can look into his scared doe eyes and take advantage of him.

The world is not on Jungkook’s side right now, it seems.

___

Yesterday’s incident is fresh in your mind the next morning. Thankfully, Yoongi found a new housekeeping service at the last minute. You’re still worried that the same thing might happen again, but you can’t afford to miss work today; so, you do the best that you can and ask Chef Gyu to keep an eye on the situation while he’s cooking.

Today’s the day you need to tour the lab facilities for the Obedience Collar—a task you’d trade in to do quite literally anything else. Yoongi looks at you with concern, seeing the strain this visit is putting on you.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. Isn’t the plan to go in and find something to shut the whole thing down?”

“But if I can’t shut it down? What if there’s nothing wrong there either, and I have to look into the faces of five other abused hybrids and know I’m ruining their lives? What if I just call the whole thing off? Yes Mr.Kang is going to be insufferable and yes it’s going to cause a blow to my reputation, but it can’t be worth it to go through with this. It’s just not right.”

The room is silent for a second before Yoongi speaks up.

“It’s a little more complicated than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was trying to find a good time to tell you since yesterday, but you’ve been so stressed that I didn’t know how…”

“Spit it out Yoongi.”

“Kang got on the board of directors at Jewel Accounting.”

Your blood runs cold. Jewel Accounting is one of your key partners.

“W-what do you mean? Isn’t that a conflict of interest? How can he be on the board that has to audit his own company?”

“He’s overseeing consulting, not audits. Pet Paradise wouldn’t be his client, but I’m afraid pulling out of this deal on a whim is going to make business a lot harder for us. The only way out is finding a good legal argument against investing.”

You want to shove your head into a bucket of cement.

___

The lab is cold and sterile, with glaring fluorescent lights, medical lab equipment spread everywhere, and white-tiles lining floor to ceiling. The researchers guiding you, however, seem to be in a chipper mood, smiling as if they don’t torture hybrids on a daily basis here. First, your team is taken around to look at the facility in general. Jungkook’s adverse reaction to showers makes sense when you see the one tiny sad looking shower stall they use—a lab assistant boasts about the stall being “efficient” by fitting at least three of them in at once.

Yoongi lightly touches your shoulder at different points throughout the tour, as if to ground you. There’s no beds, just a chamber with cots on the floor, and the food packets of sludgy brown gruel are easily the least appetizing thing you’ve ever seen.

“And now we have the part you are all, no doubt, most excited for: the research subjects!”

You hold your breath, dreading what comes next.

One by one, each wolf hybrid is brought out and lined up in front of you, all with the same fear engraved in them as Jungkook. They might be the hybrids, but you’re the one with urge to claw someone’s eyes out at the moment.

“We’ve trained different ones for different purposes, just to test how well the collar can make them behave in different situations. Jungkook was given away before any specific training, but the rest are skilled in different domains. First up we have Jin, Jimin, and Taehyung.”

Three of the hybrids step forward. One is a broad-shouldered blonde, with two smaller-framed brunettes next to him.

“These three have been trained for housework and taking care of children. Now, we know the image of a wolf-hybrid putting a baby to sleep sounds ridiculous, but this technology really is that advanced.”

Someone in the back makes some joke about a wolf singing rock-a-bye baby and everyone laughs. You and Yoongi fake a laugh to keep up appearances.

“The next one is Hoseok”

He’s lean with slicked-back black hair, and you notice he’s the only one dressed up, with a low v-neck shirt that leaves plenty of his chest exposed. More than he’s comfortable with, it seems, because you notice his hands itching to cover himself up. He doesn’t though, just fidgets with the sides of the shirt instead.

“He’s a romantic companion. Trained to give pleasure to any gender and for any intimate situation. He can fulfill every fantasy your minds can conjure up!”

There’s some snickers erupting again, but neither you or your assistant can attempt to fake laugh this time. Especially not when he makes eye contact, giving you a trained flirty smile that doesn’t reach his eyes one bit.

“And the last one is Namjoon, the pack alpha.”

Namjoon steps up, the tallest of them all. He stands the straightest as well. His hair is black and his eyes are more dragon-like than wolf, looking straight ahead with a stoic expression. The only indication of his scared nature is his trembling fingers and pleading eyes, but that aside, he looks as still as a statue.

“He’s a guard hybrid, perfect to keep intruders away. He’s been trained in a mix of defensive martial arts. Plus, he’s an alpha so you’d have to be insane to try to fight him off. Fun fact, hormone packs for alphas are different—they have a higher dosage. It took some experimentation, but we finally got the levels right.

And with that, you’ve seen the whole pack! Normally, training a wolf hybrid to do any of these would take at least two years, and that’s only for the ones 25% max wolf DNA. God knows training a 40% wolf would be nearly impossible. But with the help of the Obedience Collar, not only can we train higher percentages of wolves, but we can train them in as little as three months! As Mr.Kang probably told you a thousand times already, this will really revolutionize the hybrid market!”

___

You toss your laptop bag onto the sofa right as you come in through the door, kicking your heels off and slouching into your favorite recliner. You can’t be bothered to put things up in a tidy manner at the moment, especially with how shitty you feel.

There wasn’t a single flaw you could find at the lab today. All the equipment had passed inspection checks and were state-of-the art, the researchers had proper credentials and specialized licenses in hybrid research, and every procedure conducted was documented thoroughly—you made it a point to skip over the entire section for Hoseok, wanting to stay far away from the details of what he was made to do.

You let out a frustrated groan. Forgetting you’re no longer alone in your house, hearing footsteps shuffle spooks you for a second, before you see the wolf hybrid timidly come into the living room. Thankfully, he looks well-rested today. Chef Gyu did text you a while back that the new cleaners were doing well, and Jungkook was actually resting in his room for real this time. He does a quick bow before walking over and propping your heels up correctly. His next mission seems to be to put your carelessly tossed laptop bag in its proper place.

“You don’t need to do that for me Jungkook. I can do it myself.”

“Sorry Miss.”

You hate how meek he sounds, and that he’s the one apologizing in this situation. You should be getting on your knees spilling apologies right now, for going to that lab to see his pack be flaunted off like toys. But instead, he’s looking at you as if he’s the guilty one.

“You didn’t do anything to apologize for. Thank you for tidying up, I appreciate it.” You give me a reassuring smile, but he seems more confused than anything else. He doesn’t know if that means to do it more in the future or not do it all…he wishes you could just give simple commands instead of these tests.

You sit down for dinner, but don’t know how much of an appetite you have after today.

“Do you like the fried rice?”

“Yes Miss” he says between big spoonful, and the way he talks with his cheeks full makes you melt a little.

“Call me Y/N, please.”

“Yes Miss Y/N.”

“Just Y/N is fine”

He raises a brow,

“Pets should address their owners politely, Miss Y/N.”

That sentence makes your skin crawl. The way he so casually refers to himself as a pet, and to you as an owner.

“It’s okay Jungkook, I like being called Y/N.”

“…if you say so, Y/N.”

The name alone feels so wrong on his tongue, making him worry that someone in a lab coat is about to come drag him away for extra obedience training.

“Thank you. So, what have you been doing all day?”

“I tried to help out with the housework, but the people today told me that wasn’t my job…which was really confusing because the people yesterday told me that it was my job.”

“It’s not your job.”

“What is my job Mis—I mean, Y/N? I know I don't have specialized training, but I'm a quick learner! If you could give me a list on how to be good here, I’ll do my best and follow it.”

You want to tell him he doesn’t have to worry about things like that anymore, but you’re concerned that a conversation like that will malfunction his brain. How could it not, when the hormones flowing through his body plus the brainwashing tell him that’s all he should be thinking about.

“There is one thing you could do for me”

His wolf ears perk up, eager for a command.

“It’s really hard to keep up with the latest shows with my job, but I feel left out when everyone in the office has seen something I haven’t. If I give you a list, you think you could watch them for me and give me the summaries?”

“Yes absolutely! I’ll take detailed notes and tell you everything!”

There’s genuine excitement in his eyes. Jungkook’s never had the opportunity to watch TV before, and he can’t believe his luck. He doesn’t show his joy too much though, fearing that you’ll think he’s using the assignment as an excuse to slack off. He wants to be good, wants to show you he’s well-trained.

“Perfect. You’ll be helping me out a lot.”

You have to bite your lip to keep a straight face, endeared by how hard he’s trying to hide his excitement. But the moment is short-lived, as Jungkook’s face turns sour in an instant.

“What are you thinking about?”

“My pack. They’d probably love watching TV too.”

You don’t say anything to that.

Dinner ends with an uncomfortable silence looming in the air, that is until Jungkook spills juice on himself.

“I’m so sorry!”

“It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it.”

“B-but you just got me these clothes. I was being careless. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s really fine, it’s not hard to get it dry-cleaned. I’ll put the dishes up, so go in and change into something else.”

He gives you one last string of “I’m so sorry”s before heading off to his room.

Once you’ve loaded the dishwasher, you make your way upstairs to the boy’s room, seeing if he needs anything before bed. His bedroom door is open, as is the bathroom door. You follow the sounds of scrubbing before being met with his back to you, hunched over the sink, trying to get the stain out of the white t-shirt. He’s topless and you know it’s wrong to ogle at his incredibly fit physique right now, but something catches your attention right before you’re about to avert your eyes.

Blue splotches pepper his waist, almost bruise-like but not quite.

“Um, Jungkook”

The boy turns,

“What are those blue marks?”

He twists his body in front of the mirror, looking at the marks with the same amount of confusion as you.

“I have no clue.”

Was it an allergic reaction? Have your “eat up” commands been making him eat food he’s allergic to?

“Do you have any allergies?”

“I’m not sure…no one’s ever told me…but I feel fine.”

“Nothing hurts? No nausea, hives, itchy nose?”

He shakes his head.

“I’ll come home early tomorrow and schedule a visit with a hybrid doctor in the evening.”

The color in his face visibly drains.

“I’m a-alright. Really.”

No doctor please. Last thing I need is another person in a white coat messing with my body again.

Your tone softens, “Relax, the most it’ll be is an allergy test. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Jungkook’s back to shaking as much as he did on his first day.

____

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know if you're liking it so far!

Taglist: @welcometomyworld13 @kalala22

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the way i’m in love with this story

Over the Falls Ch. 2: Bomb

Sexy Banner & bar by @borabae-gx

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

Genre: Poolboy Jungkook x Rich Divorcee OC

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

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

Chapter One | Masterlist | Chapter Three

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

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

“I care, it doesn’t look cool.”

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

“Yeah but–”

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

“Thank you–”

“If he looks like a muppet, so what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, so we had the extra rehearsal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only when you purse your lips like that.”

“I’m just concentrating.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fun. It was all supposed to be fun. 

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

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

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

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

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

He felt the stirrings of ambition and squashed it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nah, man, that’s not me anymore.”

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

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

“JK?” 

“Yeah episode four, I don’t know.”

“Huh?”

“Are we talking about what to watch?”

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

“Oh. Uh…”

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

“Grossss.”

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

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

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

“Yeah but….” 

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s rich.”

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And also that they were just so happy together.

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

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

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

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

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

“You want the next one?” he called.

“Nah bro, you’re first!”

“I can wait. I’m floating.”

“No no it’s fine, you first.”

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

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

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

“Bro,” Hoseok called. “You ok?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook let out a noisy sigh. 

And then had an idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, but JK–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grace’s blood ran cold. 

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

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

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

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

Grace was not going to prison for Tim!

Her heart pounded in her chest so painfully she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She set the CD quickly down on the counter and backed away, already contemplating whether she ought to wipe her fingerprints off. But no, no, it would make sense she opened an envelope addressed to herself. It didn’t mean she’d committed any crime–

And this didn’t mean Tim had either! She leaned against the counter and pressed her hand to her forehead.

Fuck, I’m a bad wife.

This was Tim, for fuck’s sake. He could be an asshole, the anonymous sender was right about that, but it didn’t mean he was doing anything illegal or dangerous or immoral. Probably this was some business thing, some colleague of his pissed about a move he’d made and trying to undermine him starting at home. 

…But what if it wasn’t?!

Grace’s family had been in possession of significant money for several generations. Old money. 19th century American money funded by 18th century European money. She’d been raised with warnings and stories, not paranoia but awareness that sometimes the presence of money made people think you were an easy victim. Maybe Tim wasn’t the target here, maybe she was. 

She grabbed her phone and placed a call and after only a few rings heard her father’s deep voice over the line, greeting, “Grace? What’s up, honeybell?”

“Hi Daddy, there’s a thing… it’s making me nervous so I wanted to ask…” She trailed off, realizing immediately how stupid she sounded. She should have pulled her thoughts together before calling.

“What’s the matter now? Something is what?” She could tell he was distracted over the line. Mid-day like this, he was probably out golfing, or at least at a friend’s house for the afternoon. Her dad was a creature of habit, an introvert who’d carved his safe places out over the decades they’d lived in Winnetka, Illinois. His days were predictable. 

“Sorry, Dad, I just got spooked. Someone left a weird envelope at my house with a CD and–”

“Wait, who did what now?” he interrupted. Grace felt the shudder across her shoulders at that tone in her father’s voice, even knowing it wasn’t aimed at her. He’d been casual before but pulled himself into lawyer mode in only an instant.

“I’m just being silly,” she began. That’s what her mother would say. Calling her dad, interrupting his afternoon plans, because someone left a CD on her porch and she was freaked even though she didn’t even know what was on it.

“Someone left something on your porch? What did they leave?”

“I don’t know, a CD and a printed note that says, um…” She grimaced. “It says my husband isn’t who I think he is.”

The line was silent for a moment. Grace’s father had grown to love Tim. He’d be pissed at slander aimed her husband’s direction. He’d be furious about baseless accusations.  

“You know who sent it? You know what’s on it?”

“No,” Grace said. “I called you right away.”

“Is Tim there?”

“He’s out of town.”

“All right, Grace, don’t touch a thing. Call Alan. Don’t do anything until Alan is there.”

Grace nodded as if he could see her and mused, “I don’t know whether I should call Tim. Maybe he has an idea–”

“Do not call Tim,” he interrupted. “Only Alan. Don’t talk to anyone else. He’ll bring a secure computer over to look at what’s on the CD and after that I want you to check into a hotel until this gets figured out. This person knows where you live and that your husband isn’t home–”

“So you think it’s something bad?”

“Well you do, don’t you, sweetheart? Calling me sounding like you’re having a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry, I know I’m probably overreacting–”

“No such thing with our family.”

“But it’s not like Tim is actually a bad man. The CD is probably just… I don’t know. Something stupid. Someone’s just angry at him for something…”

Grace wanted to hear her dad agree that she was overreacting. His serious response escalated her fears. She’d wanted to be talked off the ledge and instead he was calling in a SWAT team and helicopter rescue.  

“Do as I say, Grace. Call Alan now and tell me when he’s there.”

Spooked, Grace did as he said. Within thirty minutes, Alan Theodorakos stood on her doorstep straightening his cuffs and adjusting his hair in the reflection of the one-sided mirror where a window used to be in the door. One of the family’s many lawyers, Alan had worked for Grace’s parents for many years before she moved to California; now, because of proximity, he’d served as Grace’s own legal counsel any time she’d needed it, even if just to oversee her affairs with specialized attorneys such as when she’d married and when they’d bought their house. Her father was a lawyer too, of course, but financial, and he never directly handled family matters himself anyway.

“Where is the CD?” he immediately asked when Grace welcomed him in. 

“I left it on the kitchen counter.” She showed him where the jewel case lay next to the printed note and the torn envelope, her name side up. Alan took a photo of all of it and Grace felt that tremor in her stomach again. If everyone was taking this so seriously, maybe she wasn’t taking it seriously enough!

Alan had with him a laptop, just as her dad had said he would. They made only the most polite small-talk as he set it up and, with gloves, removed the CD from the case and inserted it into the tray. Grace wrapped her arms around herself and paced back and forth, afraid to look, unable to look away. 

“It’s probably nothing,” she said to herself as much as to him. “I’m probably wasting your time, it’s just some disgruntled admin assistant or something…”

Alan didn’t have anything to say to that except, “Nothing is ever a waste of my time.” Because your family pays well, he didn’t need to say. Yes she’d wanted financial independence from her family, but legal counsel was one thing she let them fund, so sue me. Except don’t, please….

“It looks like there’s a video file,” Alan said, opening the CD. The filename was automated, generic. He double-clicked to pull it up and Grace held her breath, bracing herself for something. Perhaps her imagination was running away with her –this was very impractical, yes, when she usually prided herself on being a practical person– but her dad and Alan had her fearing the worst now. Kidnapping, torture, murder. At least a secret meeting discussing some money-laundering scheme that was going to land her in court for weeks defending her oblivious innocence as Tim’s spouse. I’m sorry, your honor, I’m a fool but I’m innocent.

“Let’s see,” Alan said and hit play.

And this was how Grace wound up watching a video of her husband fucking another woman while standing next to her father’s lawyer. 

Grace’s mouth hung open. Somehow she was shocked, even when the deepest part of her brain taunted her for being so surprised. It was recent; she saw the blue flower arrangement on the kitchen counter without even needing a time stamp. She didn’t recognize the woman, but she was young and beautiful and not Grace.

“I can stop the video,” Alan murmured, reaching forward but Grace brushed his hand away. She stared, eyes glued to the screen as her heart shattered. Or her mind. Something inside of her shattered.

Every criticism, every fight, every distracted dinner and missed date and complete lack of concern for anything she cared about flew in her face now. She’d loved Tim to distraction, even when he was unfair, even when he was unkind, even when he’d been a nobody before. And now he was doing this behind her back, as if she was nothing to him! In their own home! On her own fucking kitchen counter?! 

She wanted to scream. She wanted to sob. But her upbringing trained her better than that. She turned a tight-lipped grimace to Alan and said,

“It turns out this is a private affair.” Affair. Terrible choice of words.

“Indeed,” Alan nodded. “I can provide legal counsel however you’d like to proceed.”

“For now I just need discretion…” How would she like to proceed…. Grace couldn’t fucking answer that! She still was having a hard time processing that Tim was fucking around on her. Tim! Tim, who was so focused on work and deals and dollar signs that he barely had time for her anymore, much less…. Except apparently he did!

“What would you like me to say to your father?” Alan prodded. 

Grace grimaced. There was no good answer. Her father paid Alan’s bills but he was here as her legal counsel. But if Alan gave her father a non-answer, he’d be calling her up for direct answers within minutes.

“I’ll call him,” she said, just to buy herself time. What was she going to say? It’s a private matter between Tim and I. Might as well put up a sign on the front lawn that her husband was cheating on her. And to admit that to her family! She couldn’t. There were exactly zero divorces in her family. If there had ever been infidelity, she sure didn’t know about it. A marriage was for life, and it was her job to make this marriage worked, even in the face of infidelity, especially after she’d defended this relationship so hard in the face of her family’s early concerns. God, they were going to think she was worse than an idiot!

“Very well.” Alan packed the CD back into the jewel case to leave with her, took his laptop, and bid her good day. With another offer to provide whatever help she needed, he was gone.

Grace stood alone in her kitchen and tried to make sense of this. Tim cheating. Someone filming it from within her property. Someone sending it for her to find. Some explanation she needed to give her father. A very painful conversation she needed to have with Tim without any understanding yet of what she wanted to have happen. Did she want him to grovel and apologize? Did she want the shame of being divorced and cheated on? What would her family say if she left? What would her family say if she stayed?

Grace sank down to the mat in front of the sink and tried to cry but she just felt numb. This couldn’t be real. She’d so carefully managed her life up until now. She had thought Tim was right there in the seat next to her. What was happening?!

In a brief moment of gumption, Grace called her dad and, before he could say a word, blurted out, “It turns out it’s a private matter between Tim and I. I’d rather not talk about it yet. Please don’t tell anyone else yet.” It was an impossible thing to ask, but she decided she’d try. 

A pause had her heart in her throat. She felt like so much hung in the balance: would her father defend her dignity or her marriage?

“Why don’t you and Tim come for a visit? I’d like to spend an afternoon golfing with him, man to man.”

Her marriage.

Grace said a quick goodbye before any pained sobs could escape, let her face drop to her bent knees, and tried to squeeze the tears back in. Like everything else in her life, it seemed, she failed.

The days were long this week in a way Jungkook didn’t like, but he’d picked up the extra lifeguarding hours because he needed the money. Haewon needed textbooks and that shit was expensive so he’d told her to ask him instead of their parents and then demanded to know why she wanted to be a lawyer so bad anyway. Political Science. Boring as fuck, he couldn’t believe how much money they were paying for her to be a leech. She always screeched at him when he teased her about it. He just wanted to keep her humble, that’s why he teased.

It had been hot as balls on the beach that morning and he’d been stuck near the wharf which sucked swamp ass because you had to actually do stuff: namely, chase people away when they swam too close to the pillars. Which everyone wanted to do, because there was shade, and just blowing your whistle wasn’t enough because suddenly people “couldn’t hear you” and “didn’t know the whistle meant they were doing something wrong.” So you had to drag your ass all the way over to yell at them, and then by the time you got back up to your chair, some other fucker was doing the same thing. Didn’t they look at the surf and the giant immovable objects and realize how easily the ocean could bash their puny brains out?! But if there was anything Jungkook had learned about tourists and teenagers both, it was that they had poor respect for the ocean. You had to respect the ocean. She was older and more powerful than you. Unconcerned with whether you lived or died. Sexy of her but annoying for lifeguards. 

He only had two pool cleans on his schedule today, which meant an easier afternoon before band practice tonight, so he should still have energy to fight with Taro about how they shouldn’t add more 00s rock to their regular set just because they’d managed to come in second place in that competition. The first pool was an easy job, and the second was the one he both looked forward to and dreaded the most: The Birches. 

This time last week, he’d chickened out dropping the envelope off, only to go back and do it later that day when the guilt ate at him. Now he wished he’d waited until the end of the season in two weeks so he wouldn’t have to see them again for a while; while most people kept their heated pools running year-round here, the Birches closed theirs at the end of summer so he was almost free of them. He’d never understood why. It was heated and this was southern Cali. He’d be swimming in that baby 365 days a year. 

But he’d dropped the envelope and sprinted away and today would be the first opportunity to see if the bomb he dropped had done any damage. It gave him a nervous twitch, because what if he’d done the wrong thing? What if they knew it was him? 

What if he was going to get arrested as soon as he showed up?!

Still he went, because he wasn’t someone to turn away from an unpleasant task, no matter how scary. And he needed to get paid. Maybe nobody would be there again, like last week…

The garage was closed but he glimpsed three cars through the windows after he’d parked in the driveway –Mr. Birch hated that. Well Jungkook hated douchebags who cheated on their wives. And walking further to get to the pool than he had to after lifeguarding all morning. 

The missing car was Mr. Birch’s. Jungkook felt his skin tingle but ignored it, uninterested in nerves. Instead he prepared himself to knock on the back door, per usual, so Mrs. Birch would know he was here and unfortunately not accidentally walk out in revealing clothing–

Except Mrs. Birch was in the pool. In the pool. Jungkook froze like a bank burglar just inside the pool gate as her faked-blonde head surfaced from the water. Her eyes remained closed as she pushed her hair back, water droplets spraying as she panted for breath, emphasizing her collarbones and long neck. 

Fuck. Fuck! Red alert! 

Jungkook just stared as she grabbed the edge of the pool to hold herself steady as she swiped the water from her face. She looked tired, out of breath, like she’d been swimming hard for a while, not just lounging around for a dip.

Is she the swimmer then? Jungkook didn’t find it surprising at all to learn this about her but it made him happy, like this somehow confirmed she was the good person he’d always thought she was. Of course she was the swimmer. They both loved the water. And damn did she look good doing it, even just bobbing there as she pushed her hair back from her shoulders. 

White bathing suit.

Jesus Christ, Jungkook was going to hit the deck. His brain attempted to save him without thinking through the consequences: he cleared his throat. It was rude. It was out of line. It wasn’t at all what he’d meant to do but someone had pulled the fire alarm in his head and that was the result. 

Mrs. Birch spun quickly to face him, clearly started, and gasped, “Oh! Shit!”

The fantasy that hadn’t even begun to spin yet –that she had done this on purpose for him– died in its cradle. 

“I’m so sorry, is it– are you early?” she asked. Her bare face looked at him with such surprise and alarm that he actually felt too bad to ogle her the way he wanted to. 

“Ah, um… I don’t… think so,” he mumbled. Actually he was later than usual but he didn’t want to argue with her. “I can come back later?” He couldn’t, it was already late afternoon. Well, he could. He would! If she wanted him to.

“No no, I’m sorry, let me get out of your way.” 

He watched with a semi he’d deny to his grave as she gracefully swam to the ladder and pulled herself up like a fucking centerfold. It was a one piece, he realized with no disappointment because the cutouts at the side showed smooth waist and water streamed down her bare shoulderblades and exposed back– but fuck he couldn’t tell if the tattoo was there or not, the bottom rose too high over her ass. She almost caught him staring when she turned to wrap the towel she’d set on the lounge chair, except his brain had leapt immediately to nipple patrol–

Fuck! He didn’t get a good look as his brain caught up with his stare and he immediately averted his eyes, leaving her to cover herself with the towel not under his blown-out gaze. Shit! He was around hot chicks in bathings suits all the time! Why now did his brain decide to run away….

“I completely lost track of time. Um…” She paused and then gestured to the pool with one hand as if to tell him to carry on, then fled into the house.

Jungkook just stood there for a moment. He’d never seen Mrs. Birch –or anyone for that matter– in the pool before, though legend said they used it, at least for parties sometimes. He felt a sense of pride now to know she really did, and that she looked so damn good in it. He sauntered to the edge to survey his work and felt his satisfaction grow further at the confirmation that he kept this pool in good shape. It looked great right now. He wouldn’t have to do much today, clean the filters, maybe nothing else. Now he felt bad to have chased her off. He could have done that while she kept swimming. He wouldn’t mind. 

Damn. He was going to be thinking about this for a long time.

White bathing suit, huh? 

He grabbed the outdoor trash and some gloves to get to work on the filters, in the hopes he could wrap it up quickly and she could slide right back in. But just as he was finishing up, she reappeared from the house in loose lounge clothes with her hair piled up on top of her head and a bamboo tray with his drink and snacks in her hands.

“You didn’t have to,” he called to her, “I won’t be long today. Pool looks good. Are you using it a lot lately?”

Her head tilted as she set the tray down and asked, “Yes, I’ve been out here every day lately. You can tell?”

It was mostly a lie as he shrugged, “If you’re swimming a lot, the motion sends the detritus into the filters. If no one’s swimming, it sits on top.” Detritus. Haewon had used that word a couple weeks ago and he’d latched onto it because it sounded more professional than shit.

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“Yeah?”

She glanced at the pool and he got the feeling something was bothering her. Which made sense, considering the whole bomb on her doorstep thing, now that his head had cleared enough to remember that. For a moment he thought she knew it was him and was going to ask him about it. Of course she’d figure it out, she seemed smart, or he’d missed something obvious in covering his tracks…

“Well I won’t bother you while you finish.”

“You’re not a bother,” he assured her. Her smile was small and didn’t reach her eyes as she turned to go. He reached for the drink out of obligation, because really he didn’t have anything more to do but he couldn’t just leave the things she’d brought for him sitting there. It felt unappreciative. Also it was free.

She must be hot in the long-sleeved lounge top, although the fabric was thin. The shorts rode high, showing off her thighs as she headed back towards the house. He realized she could see his reflection in the windows and squinted to look out over the pool as if he was lost in thought when she suddenly stopped walking, hand on the door. 

When she turned, arms sliding across to sort of hold herself, Jungkook felt that nervous flutter. Oh no. Busted staring at her ass. Caught. He felt like a kid again, he’d fucked up and it was time to get in trouble. He gave into the urgent need to have his hands full, so he popped open the bag of chips and shoveled a handful into his mouth as she came back.

“Hey,” she said, voice softer and less certain than he’d ever heard her before. Her whole body seemed to curl in on itself miserably, a far cry from the way she’d pushed up from the pool half an hour ago. “I just wanted to ask you– when you were here last time, did you happen to see anyone drop off something? On my front porch?”

His eyes went wide. He chomped down, accidentally getting his cheek too, and cursed as he pressed his finger to the outside of it. She just watched him and he realized with a burst of paranoia how fucking guilty he looked. He sucked at lying. He was terrible at lying, especially when he really was guilty as shit!

“Oh, um…” he fumbled, swallowing the Cheetos down and licking the residue off his finger. He licked his lips nervously, feeling like there was orange powder there too. “From back here? What package?” Playing stupid was better than outright lying, even if saying he’d seen someone else do it would probably do a better job of getting him out of the hot seat. 

She shifted her weight and chewed on the inside of her cheek, exactly where he’d just accidentally bitten on his own, and this similarity sent another wave of guilt rolling over him. He was lying to her. Fuck. Was he any better than Mr. Birch?! Shitothy Smirch? Eh, not his best work for taunting names….

“Ok, if you didn’t see anything… I just thought…” A cascade of emotions crossed her face, so raw and unpoised compared to the normally polite and neutral look she had with him, that Jungkook felt himself chipping further apart. She looked miserable, her face even redder than it had been just getting out of the pool. “Someone left an orange envelope for me,” she said. Fuck, were her eyes watering?!!? “I don’t know who but I’m trying to find out who so I can talk to them about it before–”

“It was me,” he blurted out as he suddenly realized how fucking scary this must be for her. “I left the envelope and I’m really sorry–”

He cut off as Mrs. Birch started to cry. Not quite burst into tears the way he might have expected, but she drew in a shaky breath and the tears he’d suspected managed to sneak out and she pressed her hands to her face.

The impulse to reach for her was hard to deny but he did. Obviously he couldn’t touch this woman he barely knew and whose marriage he’d just exposed as a sham. Plus he had Cheeto dust on his fingers and her clothes were light colored. He’d done enough already! It would be wrong! But it was hard to watch her upset and not comfort her.

“I’m sorry,” he said again in desperation. “I swear I’m not trying be a dick or anything, I just thought you should know.”

He saw her draw air in like strength and push her hands back through her hair, fortifying herself, before demanding with a strong expression that didn’t match the tears on her cheek, “So you filmed it and left an anonymous package on my porch?”

He pulled back, defenses instantly activated. Fuck. Had he misjudged? Had she already known? Did she not care? Fuck! All his friends had told him not to get involved but he’d wanted to be this hero and now he’d really fucked himself.

“I, uh, I thought you should know,” he stammered again. “But maybe you wouldn’t want anyone else to know? I wasn’t going to blackmail him or anything. It’s private for you so I didn’t want to blow up your spot–”

“But obviously someone knew, the person who took the video! And I didn’t know who it was until I watched the security footage and then I thought it was you but–”

“Ah I thought I had my hat on low enough…” he mumbled.

She gave him a baffled look and pointed out, “You still look and walk like yourself– but I didn’t know if I was wrong or who was filming from inside my backyard and it was just really scary…” She trailed off and suddenly sat down on the lounge chair, threatening to upend the bamboo tray. She covered her face again. She took another of those deep bracing breaths.

“Shit, I’m really sorry scared you,” he said, sinking onto the second one to face her.  “I just felt bad about it.”

“Why?! You weren’t fucking someone else in our–” She broke herself off and that spark of rage tossed him around another loop. He didn’t know her, he didn’t know her emotional processes, he didn’t know how she was handling this thing he’d opened her eyes too, and yet he felt unavoidably anchored here with her in this moment. How would he handle this in her shoes? He sure didn’t know, but he thought he’d do an even worse job of holding himself together.

“Yeah but I didn’t mean to scare you. I just thought you should know your husband is a fucking piece of shit.” The words rolled out without any hesitation because he was.

But it brought Mrs. Birch up short. She looked shocked, as if she somehow hadn’t realized what the video showed, and for a moment he forgot she had just referenced it and worried she hadn’t actually watched and he’d just done exactly what he had hoped to avoid: verbally give her this news. Instead she blinked slowly at him. 

He meant to say sorry if that was too blunt but what actually came out was, “You deserve better than that.” He wasn’t actually sorry about that.

“Like you?”

“Wait, what?!” he cried, and jumped to his feet and stepped back so quickly he tripped on the lounger and fell onto his ass, tangled up in his own sandals. “No! I– what? I don’t have anything to do with this! I just–”

“I’m sorry,” she gasped this time, and covered her face again. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I just…”

He’d scraped his palm in the fall; she didn’t seem to have even noticed that he did something so fucking clownish. Everything was all fucked up right now, she was all fucked up he understood now. That’s why she seemed all over the place.  

“Hey, it’s ok, it’s ok. Look, I swear I don’t have any shitty motives.” He eased back onto the lounger, ignoring the burn of his hand. “I didn’t want to get involved with your personal business. I just couldn’t believe he’d do that to you and I didn’t think you’d believe me if I just told you so I… but yeah, you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Her voice was barely a whisper as she lowered her hands, eyes on her knees, “I would have believed you.”

“Damn.” He stopped himself from saying more. But damn that was a bad marriage if you’d believe your poolguy that your husband was banging someone else without even providing proof. She must have already known then that she’d married an asshole. That made him both very happy (Mrs. Birch is not like him!) and very sad for her (Mrs. Birch is married to someone who doesn’t deserve her!)

Watching her struggle to compose herself was distressing. He wished she would just cry it out hard. She’d feel better and he’d feel better too. Instead it was like watching her hurt herself further trying to keep the tears locked in when they so obviously wanted to come out. 

“Who else did you show that video to?” she asked, gaze lifting to meet his. Her words sounded fiercer than her face looked, though her expression was still sort of scary. Sharp. “Or tell about… this?”

“No one,” he said, hoping a quick response would hide that it wasn’t entirely true. “Who would I tell? Why? I don’t even like knowing about it and I don’t know anyone who knows you–”

“You didn’t like upload it to the internet or– Reddit or something–”

“Fuck, no.” The goodwill he’d felt after she had said she’d have believed him evaporated and he felt as scummy as her cheating husband. “I don’t post that kind of shit anyway but even– I would never do that to you. Why would I do that–”

“I don’t know, for money, for clout, for revenge because Tim has been rude to you–”

Jungkook pushed to his feet as the heat rose in his cheeks, tingling up his neck. Apparently she’d believe him that her husband was cheating but not his own promise that he wasn’t blackmailing anyone. That she thought so lowly of him was the bullet through every last fantasy he’d harbored. No one had ever thought so badly of him as Mrs. Birch apparently did. Except maybe Mr. Birch.

“I said I wasn’t blackmailing,” Jungkook grumbled and turned to go because there was nothing else to say here.

Her hand suddenly on his arm stopped him dead in his tracks; she had leapt up and caught him quickly.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you, it’s just… you wouldn’t be the first person who realized they could use something like this against my family.”

“Your family?” He made a face, ignoring the hiccup in his chest at her fingers curled against his arm. Just as quickly she let go. “I don’t know anything about your family and I don’t care. I just wanted to let you know in case you didn’t, that’s it.”

It was like she hadn’t heard a word he said and continued, “And just think about it from my perspective. This is a private matter that I want to handle privately.”

“Well I’m not telling anyone,” he huffed, frustrated by the ongoing accusations.

“Do you still have the video? Will you delete it in front of me?”

“I already deleted it,” he said, but still fished out his phone. “You think I wanted that on my phone? It’s in my trash.”

“Yeah but will you permanently delete it? Please? I’m sorry I insulted you, I’m just… stressed right now.”

He paused, phone unlocked, showing a picture of the beach behind his apps. It softened the edge of her accusation to be reminded that the inciting incident of all of this was learning that her husband was cheating on her and the pool tech knew. That sucked. From her perspective, if he was in her shoes, he’d be hurt and distrustful too. She was just upset. 

“I get it,” he told her. “No problem, you can watch me permanently delete it.” He opened up the ‘Recently Deleted’ folder on his phone as she leaned in to look, only for his stomach to cramp as he discovered just how many deleted selfies filled the rows ahead of the video. No dick pics thank fuck but still, it was embarrassing for her to see three rows of him posing in the bathroom without a shirt –he’d been trying to get a good one for his dating profile, ok?--, and he tried to cover them subtly with his fingers as he quickly tapped the video and then ‘Permanently Delete’ before it could begin to play. Too late did he realize how close she was standing, and that she smelled like something fresh and clean and mildly floral, and that her loose top had slid down her shoulder.

She pulled away and crossed her arms and nodded as she said, “Thank you.” She must have seen the photos but didn’t give any sign of it.

“Yeah, no problem.”

“I mean for telling me, too. I know it’s… awkward. It’s easier to mind your own business when it’s something uncomfortable but I’m glad that I know now. So thank you for telling me but now please forget that you know.”

“Yeah of course, I don’t know anything. I hope you get to keep your house in the divorce and I’ll keep the pool looking great.” He meant it as a joke, kind of. He was serious about it, but he hoped the tone shift could free them both from this moment that was even beyond awkward. Sustained emotionality wore him out. Guarding the wharf was easier than this for sure.

“I don’t know what I’m doing yet,” she said with utmost seriousness, with a shake of her head as if the idea was an annoying fly buzzing in her ear.

“Uh… what? How can you not know? The guy’s cheating on you, so leave his ass and wring him dry in the divorce,” he scoffed. As if he knew all about it! But it was just such an obvious next step, he couldn’t fathom she would do anything else. Good riddance to the fuckwad!

The effect on her was immediate: her hands dropped and she leaned away and got this scowl on her face that would have been sexy as hell if she hadn’t been almost defending that guy.

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple.”

“It’s not. Marriage is complicated, especially one like ours, it’s not always easy and–”

“Well he pissed on that marriage when he started fucking other people, didn’t he?”

“How dare you?” The sexiness evaporated from her glare as it hardened, as his own words caught up to him.

“Fuck, sorry, I know it’s not my business–” He held his hands up, choosing to apologize even though in his gut he wanted to say more. See? He was bad at this! He really just wanted to comfort her and instead he was fucking it up because he just couldn’t stand to hear her insist there was anything salvageable about that wad of snot.

“You’re right, it’s not. Thank you for telling me about what’s going on but that’s where your judgment ends. You don’t know anything about us or our life or–”

“You’re right, I don’t. I do know he’s a piece of shit though and that you deserve better.”

“And how many times have you been married, since you’re such an expert on marital conflict–”

“Zero times,” he answered. “But when I do get married, I sure won’t treat my wife the way that asshole treats you. You’ve been apologizing for his shit since I started cleaning your pool and I may be just the pool guy but I see all kinds of people and I know a piece of shit when I see one. Whatever you think is worth staying married to him for, you’re wrong. That’s all I know. So whatever, you can report me to my boss and I can have someone else come clean your pool now or whatever but yeah, you’re better off without him.”

“Well thank you for not leaving that sage wisdom in a cryptic package on my doorstep this time,” she snapped. 

Jungkook knew he’d gone too far. He’d stepped completely into their bullshit. He couldn’t help it! He was typically slow to erupt but good luck once he got going, and he was going now, because this was the 21st century and a woman didn’t need to stay with a fucker like that for anything! And to stand there and have her possibly saying thanks for telling me but I’m going to stay with him, I don’t mind him treating me like gum on his shoe– how was he supposed to silently endorse that! 

He was too worked up to think of anything to say back so he just said, “Yeah, you’re welcome. You deserve better.” It was a stupid thing to sound so angry saying. He’d think of something better int he shower later. 

“Why, because I give you snacks while you clean our pool? You don’t know anything about me or what kind of person I am, JK. Maybe I did deserve this.”

“No way.”

“But you don’t know!”

If he hadn’t already known it in his gut, he knew it was true now, as the anger on her face wavered and he saw, just for one brief moment, raw grief. For one moment she had that look that in the movies makes a guy take up his sword and march off to war or whatever. She looked like a vulnerable, hurting person, not some rich caricature of a human, and that was exactly why he had stepped into this so far and couldn’t even regret it even if he knew he was making an ass of himself.

Just as quickly it was mostly gone, all except a soft, downward turn of her mouth. She had color on her lips which struck Jungkook as a little strange to have put on after the pool but he supposed Mrs. Birch wanted to always be put together. It was not a helpful train of thought –I could undo her combined with but she’s so sad right now and trying to hide it, isn’t she?-- and he looked away. He didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t used to this kind of dramatic exchange. He didn’t have stamina for it. Usually if he was fighting with a woman he just let her say her peace and then she left and that was the end, there were only a few times he really got into it.

But telling Mrs. Birch she ought to divorce her husband was worth it.

“I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore,” she admitted with a deep, tired sigh. “I need to go. Thank you for bringing all of this to my attention, but please, forget everything.”

“You got it, boss,” he mumbled. It was awkward. He felt deflated now.

She wasn’t going to leave her husband. That’s what he’d just learned. And the idea that a good woman would stay with a shitty man just flooded him with despair. Romance was dead, marriage was a sham, and there was no justice. His dad had divorced his mom and there were even kids involved, so what did Mrs. Birch think made it so impossible for her? But he didn’t feel like saying that to her now. He felt like he’d just burned what minor threads had connected them, and maybe it had been necessary in order for her to know about her husband, but selfishly he wondered now if it had been worth it. If she wasn’t even going to leave him, maybe she wished Jungkook had just kept his mouth shut. Maybe he should have.

“JK, I…”

He’d never know what she was going to say because after a grimace rolled across her face, she turned and went inside. Leaving him to finish the job he was paid to do, cleaning the fucking pool.

Chapter One | Masterlist | Chapter Three

After the Applause (Ch. 4)

Header and linebreaks by @awrkives

Single Dad Jimin x Female OC

SUMMARY: Jimin doesn't know how he would have made it this far after the shattering of his world without the support of his thoughtful, generous, helpful neighbor. Hanbyul has lived next to hottie Jimin and his adorable daughter for years now, long enough to remember the wife he was so devoted to and lost far too young. With each safely ensconced on their side of the brick wall of the Parks' grief, it will take an enterprising little scientist to set the stage for a second chance at love.

CW: grief, prior loss of spouse/parent, comfort, explicit sex, secondhand embarrassment

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Hanbyul sulked on the foot of her bed, feet underneath her pillow and a blanket cocooned around her body as she clicked through suggestions on her dating app. She narrowed her eyes unhappily at each of the three profiles the app recommended for her today. She didn’t like any of them. Well, she might have liked them at another time, she wasn’t really giving them a fair shake, but right now she had really just hoped that looking through them would cause Namjoon’s ears to burn and he’d finally respond to her last message.

Well actually, her last four messages…

She groaned and buried her face in the crook of her arm. Her sister had already poured salt on her wound of humiliation at having sent Namjoon four messages without any response. It was mortifying. She felt like an idiot, only overshadowed by the misery of oh my god he’s ghosting me he’s done with me. Their last date, date number three, had gone really well, she thought! But that was a week ago and there’d been no response since. 

Holding her phone had the added benefit of ensuring she would see the second he messaged if he did. Not that she was hoping he would, obviously! This was the 21st century and a girl did not let a guy just disappear on her and then forgive it when he suddenly messaged her again! Unless there was a good reason. Maybe he had a good reason. Maybe he was in the hospital, or his mom was, and then she would totally forgive him. She was a very understanding person!

But what if he was playing hard to get? She hated that it might be working, even if she didn’t want to admit it. She’d liked him on their dates but would not have expected to feel his silence so loudly until confronted with it. Was this what they meant about absence making the heart grow fonder? Was the injustice of him ignoring her actually making her feel more strongly about their connection, one he could so easily and carelessly sever?

In the meantime as she did-but-didn’t wait for him to message her back, Hanbyul perused the dating apps again in an effort to reassure herself that even if Namjoon was tired of her, there were more frogs in the pond. She preferred that phrasing to there are more fish in the sea since, like her neighbor, she had an aversion to seafood. 

It wasn’t weird to know that about your neighbor, right? She cooked for them sometimes! Not that she went out of her way to cater to his preferences but if she just happened to be making something she thought he’d like, she would share it, and it was convenient that their opinions on seafood aligned. 

She sighed at her own lack of interest in the app’s recommendations and decided to plunge into a free-browse. The concept of finding someone to date based on a few photos and answers to mundane questions seemed impossible, but she supposed that’s how it always started. If you really got to know people first, that would limit her dating pool to…

Well, to a very small rain puddle.

Speaking of very small worlds, her eyebrows raised in surprise when a person familiar in name only showed at the top of her browsing when sorting by distance: Jeon Jungkook. 

Curiosity got the better of her and she opened his profile. Just to put a face to the name! Now she recognized him as a person she had seen entering or leaving the building opposite her a few times. His photos were mostly selfies, either at the gym or with dogs, except for one of him with Taehyung, Jimin, and another man who seemed vaguely familiar.  

She’d just started to read his profile –out of curiosity, nothing else!-- when a new message alert popped onto her screen.

[Jeon Jungkook]: hey

[Jeon Jungkook]: neighbor Ko Hanbyul!

Hanbyul let out a startled gasp and dropped her phone and looked around, expecting he could somehow see her right now. Did the app know when you were on someone’s profile page?! She’d certainly never gotten any alerts that someone was checking her out. Oh god did that mean no one ever checked her out?!

[Ko Hanbyul]: Hello family friend Jeon Jungkook

[Jeon Jungkook]: youve heard of me 😎 

[Jeon Jungkook]: how are you doing this cold night? Winter or spring right now what is it

Hanbyul sat up and leaned against the wall. It felt weird to be talking to Jimin’s friend. Very weird. And he seemed so immediately comfortable with her, which she didn’t understand considering they’d never even met in person. He must be a naturally charming person. She envied that about him. Were all of Jimin’s friends charming just like he was? God, she really could never belong there. Would Jimin think she was trying to force her way in if he knew she was talking to Jungkook?! 

But they were just talking! It wasn’t like they were going on a date. She wasn’t going to go on a date with one of Jimin’s closest friends! It felt rude not to answer him though when he was being friendly, and he was a friend of a friend. Friend of a neighbor.

[Ko Hanbyul]: it’s early spring and I like the cold. You?

[Jeon Jungkook]: yeah I like winter best but I dont think this is spring there are more than four seasons

[Jeon Jungkook]: our schools lie to make it easy to learn but dont you think there are more seasons in a year? 

Hanbyul’s mouth twisted into a grin. Ok, he was an interesting guy. 

[Ko Hanbyul]: what are the other seasons?

[Jeon Jungkook]: hm

[Jeon Jungkook]: rainy season, allergy season, mosquito season, sweatshirt season, the busy season

[Ko Hanbyul]: busy season for what?

[Jeon Jungkook]: everyone has a busy season everyone always says that

[Jeon Jungkook]: right? Its our busy season. 

[Jeon Jungkook]: unless your Jiminie

[Jeon Jungkook]: then busy season is every month before a show right? Kekeke

The mention of Jimin flustered Hanbyul, gave her that twinge like she was betraying Jimin somehow because probably Jungkook was flirting with her. That’s why he’d messaged, right? Was she flirting back? She genuinely didn’t know. He was awfully handsome, maybe it was too much to think he was flirting with her.

But at the same time, Jimin wasn’t interested in her at all, so what was she being faithful to? A crush? And anyway, it was just a conversation!

[Ko Hanbyul]: when is your busy season?

There, impeccable flirting. Smooth as dirt.

[Jeon Jungkook]: nah not me i do screenprinting i work for a clothing company so its always busy

[Ko Hanbyul]: oh! That’s interesting!

[Jeon Jungkook]: its not but ok kekeke thanks 😉

[Jeon Jungkook]: do you have a favorite t shirt? 

It was such an off-the-wall question, though she supposed relevant to his career. Conversation with him flowed easily like that, bouncing from one topic to another. Sometimes he’d go quiet for a bit but then he’d be back with some other new topic just as Hanbyul started to set the phone down. Almost an hour passed in this way before he surprised her further.

[Jeon Jungkook]: yeah, you seem cool

[Ko Hanbyul]: Thank you, you too! Jimin was right to say that about you

The second she sent it, she cringed. Referring to Jimin so familiarly! And after talking to his friend on a dating app for an hour! It was a faux pas in every direction and all she could do was cover her face as Jungkook responded.

[Jeon Jungkook]: he said good things about me huh? Tell me every single one

But Hanbyu was cringing too hard, and worried now that this might be leading to Jungkook asking her out. Did she want to go on a date with Jungkook?! Ah, maybe he was only being polite because she was the neighbor of his friend but their conversation had seemed pretty flirty! He was charming and handsome. He wasn’t Jimin, but Jimin didn’t want her and Namjoon didn’t want her so maybe…. But what if she just was always longing for Jimin? That would be a terrible thing to do to Jungkook!

[Ko Hanbyul]: Sounds like you and Park Jimin need a heart to heart

[Jeon Jungkook]: after this convo i think your right

What did that mean?! Hanbyul tried to think of something to say back, but Hudu was at the front door, jingling the bells that he wanted to go out. 

“Use the potty mat!” she called, but Hudu hated the potty mat and honestly she hated it too. Plus she could use some air. There was nothing for it but to slip her phone in her pocket, bundle her and the pup up, and head out.

They weren’t alone in the hall though. At almost the same time she opened her door, the Park door opened down the hall, and out stepped the very man she was messaging, Sun-young bundled up beside him.

For a moment they just froze and looked at each other with surprise, until Sun-young shouted a greeting and Hudu started to do a dance that had Hanbyul worried he was going to pee in the hallway with excitement at seeing Sun-young.

“I’m taking my dog out,” she explained, no other greeting preceding it as she started quickly down the hall.

Jungkook snickered and motioned, “Yeah, me too. I mean, my niece.”

“What? I’m not a dog! And I don’t need to pee outside,” Sun-young said with a dramatic eyeroll. “Hi, unnie. We’re going to get churros.”

“Oooh.”

She pushed the elevator button and bit back the endeared smile. Churros. That was pretty cute.

“So you’re…” She stopped herself before saying babysitting, knowing Sun-young would hate that.

“Yeah, uh, I’m hanging out with Sunbun tonight.”

“We’re watching Sailor Moon from the very beginning,” Sun-young told her. “Do you like that show? Did you have it when you were a little girl or are you too old?”

“Hey! I’m not that old,” Hanbyul cried and playfully scowled at her. 

“I know, you’re younger than Appa.”

“She’s my age,” Jungkook answered and for a moment Hanbyul forgot it said her birth year on her profile. She hadn’t remembered his year, although she did remember he was born in September. “So, did you watch Sailor Moon growing up?”

“Yes…” Hanbyul answered. They all stepped into the open elevator together and Hudu sniffed around Jungkook’s feet as Sun-young stooped to scratch his head.

Jungkook grinned and demanded, “Why are you answering like it’s a trap?”

“Oh, I didn’t admit it before, but one of my favorite t-shirts when I was younger was a Sailor Moon shirt, actually.” It was the truth, but it made him laugh so hard she thought he must not believe her. She laughed too because he had a very infectious laugh.  

“Do you still have it?”

“It would be too small now!”

“Eh, small shirts can look good,” he shrugged. She didn’t miss the way he cocked his head or pressed his tongue between his lips. Did he mean in general, or on her specifically?! That had to be flirting…

Sun-young suddenly stood up in between them, her eyes narrowed and sliding back and forth from Hanbyul to Jungkook in such a suspicious way that Hanbyul took a step closer to the wall. She felt caught, like she’d truly been doing something wrong and now Sun-young was witnessing it. She braced herself for whatever was going to come out of the girl’s mouth as she put her hands on her hips.

“Hey. Do you know each other? I thought you said you didn’t know who Uncle Tae and Uncle Jungkook are…”

“Yeah, we know each other,” Jungkook answered first, in a way that sounded so much guiltier. The way he said it sounded like it meant way more than we just started talking on a dating app an hour ago. Oh god and they’d been talking the whole hour… but it was just friendly! Platonic! Right?!

Sun-young turned to Jungkook and demanded, “Aren’t you dating that lady at the cafe?!”

The elevator doors opened and Hanbyul leapt out, but Hudu suddenly wanted to take his time and stick by Sun-young’s side. Even pulled on the leash to stay put!

Jungkook’s laugh echoed around the apartment lobby as he insisted, “What do you know about that? I’m not dating her. I mean, I went on a date with her but… ah, you’ll understand when you’re older.”

“You never say that to me,” Sun-young frowned.

“Sorry but this one time I’m going to say it. I don’t have to tell you every woman I talk to or date!”

“But now you’re dating…” Sun-young turned her narrowed eyes towards Hanbyul, whose face could not have felt more on fire. This was as bad as when Sun-young asked her why she didn’t just date Jimin. No, worse, because there was a witness to the mortification!  

“A man and a woman can talk,” Jungkook insisted. “It doesn’t mean they’re dating.”

“And they can date… but it doesn’t mean they’re dating either?” Sun-young tried to puzzle out. 

“No no, there’s a difference between talking and going on a date and dating and… hey, why don’t you talk to your dad about this kind of thing?”

“About if you’re dating unnie?”

“Aish,” Jungkook hissed through his teeth and gave Hanbyul a charming, amused grin. “You run, I’m going to distract her with churros. Can’t ask questions if your mouth is full of churro!”

Hanbyul desperately wanted to know what was going to be explained here but also desperately didn’t want any part of it. They were just talking! It felt like a betrayal of Jimin and yet what was there to betray? Jimin didn’t want her! Besides, Jungkook had just said they were just talking…. But he’d said it to a nine-year-old, maybe he was just being vague… Or maybe he didn’t want to date, there were other things a man and woman could do. Like talking sure, or… Jungkook was a handsome man! No Jimin, but then, who was? Maybe he wasn’t the sort to date, just to sleep around. Hanbyul had never really done the sleeping around thing but she could really use some sex. Sex would be a positive addition to her life. She couldn’t find her vibrator lately; maybe it was under the bed but she was scared to look and hadn’t bought a new one yet…

Sun-young’s little face turned up and Hanbyul just barely heard her say, “I don’t think you should talk to Unnie so much.”

Oh geez, what was Jungkook going to say to that?! But Hudu chose that moment to give in to her tug towards the door; he took off as if he suddenly remembered his bladder, and she sure didn’t want to clean up a puddle in the lobby, so off they ran. And so she would never know what else Jungkook said.

She was too embarrassed to say anything to Jungkook on the messenger app for the rest of the night. Embarrassed and unsure what to say if Jungkook did ask her out on a date or invite her over for sex. Although she did check later that night, just to make sure he hadn’t messaged her either…

Wha, what was she thinking?! Men did not just invite Hanbyul over for sex! Definitely not men like Jungkook, or Jimin, or Taehyung for that matter… Or Namjoon…

“Hudu, we’re going to die alone together, I hope that’s ok with you,” she sighed, and decided to take the long way around the park. 

The seats were pretty high up but the best he’d been able to afford. Still more than he had planned to spend right now, nowhere close to Sunnie’s birthday, but when he’d heard from Hoseok, who’d heard from this dancer who knew that dancer who was one of the principals, that Mango Crush was about to announce an unexpected concert for reasons Jimin didn’t remember or care about, he’d already decided to by the tickets before Sun-young even came running from school screaming about it. He’d been prepared for her cries of disbelief when he’d agreed that yes, they could go. He’d been prepared for her surprise when he rattled off the exact time they would go on sale that night and showed her his alarm so he wouldn’t miss it.

He had not been prepared for her to beg, “Can Hanbyul-unnie go with us? Please?!”

He’d tried to keep his face neutral at the instant hurt. Of course his daughter would rather go see a girl-group with a female friend. Hanbyul was a fan, she knew the lyrics and everything. Part of loving his daughter was letting her grow and replace him and he wasn’t going to cry about it until he was alone in his room later maybe.

“Oh, you’d rather go with Hanbyul?” he’d asked carefully to give himself a moment to think.

“Yes, all three of us!”

He’d been so relieved that Sun-young still wanted him along that he’d bought three tickets without further argument, without even talking to Hanbyul about it first. Then he’d worried about how awkward it would be to ask his neighbor if she’d like to go to a kpop concert with him and his daughter, but Sun-young had run ahead and by the time he’d joined them at Hanbyul’s door, she’d already graciously accepted the invitation. She begged Jimin to let him pay for her own ticket, which he had refused, because for a moment he felt so cool in front of his daughter.

“I know the seats aren’t very good,” Jimin apologized to Hanbyul over Sun-young’s head as she searched for the power button on the flashy Mango stick. Hanbyul had brought one for each of them

Hanbyul actually laughed, “They’re fine! Haven’t you been to a concert recently? The music reaches you anywhere and we can see the stage straight ahead. You did great!”

Jimin flushed at the unexpected praise, then chalked her kind words up to excitement. He had half expected Hanbyul only came along to be a good sport for Sun-young, which in and of itself would have meant so much to him. But she leaned in close to show Sun-young where the switch was, and turned her own on, and the two of them shouted and cheered as they waved them in the air along with everyone else. But he didn’t think either that she’d only come for personal enjoyment of the concert, either, because every step of the way so far, her attention had been focused so joyfully and sincerely on Sun-young. It was like she really wanted to be here with them. It made JImin feel really good about all this.  

“It’s my first concert ever!” Sun-young squealed.

“What?! Then I’m even more glad I brought the Mango Sticks!” Hanbyul cheered. “I’ll buy you a t-shirt too, ok? I still have the t-shirt from my first concert! I was about your age too. My friend’s mom took us.”

“Who was it?” Jimin immediately demanded. He knew so little about Hanbyul’s childhood, or her private life, or really anything at all. What kind of girl had she been? He found himself wanting to know.

“Baby V.O.X.”

“Ah, I know them!”

“Personally?!”

“No no, I know of them, I remember them,” he admitted. “I thought you would name some super secret cool band I’ve never heard of, but they were popular.”

Hanbyul gave him an indecipherable look and laughed, “Do I seem like I’m into anything secret and cool? I like popular things just like anyone else.”

“Well I don’t know many famous people,” he shared his own confession.

“I think of you as knowing everyone.”

“No no, why would I know famous people?” He thought it was ridiculous. Yes, he knew some famous dancers, but Hanbyul wouldn’t know who any of those people were. “Well, I’ve done choreography for some idol groups but not the big ones, they tend to have their own choreographers.”

“That’s really cool though! We should go to a concert for one of those groups,” she suggested, eyes sparkling.

“I don’t know them well enough to get tickets!”

“It’s ok, I’ll buy the tickets next time.”

“Yay, more concerts!” Sun-young cheered, then grabbed Jimin’s arm as the lights flickered. “IT’S STARTING!”

Jimin took her hand and she didn’t even pull it away, just raised his hand and her Mango Stick in the other to join the shouts as Mango Crush took the stage.

“Can you name them yet?” Hanbyul asked, leaning close and repeating it when Jimin couldn’t hear. She had to get close to his ear, her warm breath tickling the side of his neck.

“Yes,” he scoffed and rattled them off because obviously he had done some quick studying so he wouldn’t sound like a total idiot to Sun-young. Hanbyul stared at his lips, as if really closely testing his accuracy.

“Now which is which?” she shouted, gesturing towards the stage where little ants in sparkly costumes danced around. The massive screens behind the stage showed them closer and it was Eujin… or maybe Hana… Adda? No, that one was Violet…

Ok, they weren’t that far away, the venue wasn’t that big for such a quickly pulled together concert. He could easily see all nine of them. But still. Their hair colors were all different than the pictures he’d seen so he was toast.

“Shit, she changed her hair,” he said, overly loud, and Hanbyul laughed. It was the music that made Jimin smile so big. Live music was infectious! Even if you were a little tired of the songs because you’d been listening to them nonstop for the past week to try and learn the lyrics before the concert with your daughter.

Hanbyul’s attention shifted to Sun-young as Jimin’s daughter dropped his hand to take hers, and they sang the words together, loud and adorably off-key but swallowed in the mass of voices around the venue. He couldn't remember the lyrics at all in the moment.

It was the third song before they performed one Jimin knew well enough to shout along to. Sun-young’s eyes got so big and she laughed with her whole body and grabbed his hand again and waved her Mango Stick thing and Jimin knew every minute of listening to their music and every won spent on the tickets had been worth it. 

He shared a smile with Hanbyul over Sun-young’s head, and then Hanbyul covered her face shyly. He worried she thought he was laughing at how much she enjoyed the concert but no, it made him very happy that she did! He didn’t see how to explain that in a shout over the noise though so he just turned back to the music and only watched her out of the corner of his eye as she and Sun-young sang their hearts out.

We’ve only got one life  So let’s live it loud  Take up the space we were meant for Hands up, sing it proud: This world is ours!

*********

The show ended later than Jimin had expected, but Sun-young complained about being hungry on the way home so they stopped at Yoongi’s noodle place because it was open, close to home, and cheap. He insisted on paying for Hanbyul’s noodles too, after she had insisted on buying so much merch for Sun-young. All the rules were out the window tonight, so he might as well let Sun-young sit up until midnight to eat noodles in her Mango Crush shirt with her Mango Crush headband.

The shop was mostly empty this time fo night, so once their food was ready, Yoongi came to visit. Sun-young was so excited telling him about the show that her noodles got cold; no matter how many times Jimin encouraged her to eat, she could barely get a bite in before she needed to tell Yoongi something, or ask Hanbyul if she remembered this, or insist Jimin tell him her favorite outfit or whatever. 

Only after she finally stopped to catch her breath did Yoongi say, “Nice to meet you, by the way. I think you’re Ko Hanbyul?”

With a gasp, Jimin realized he’d missed the introduction and apologized, “Yes, yes, Ko Hanbyul, and this is my friend Min Yoongi. I forgot you haven’t met my friends.”

“I’m meeting them more lately, it seems,” she said, which felt cryptic somehow. Did she just mean because she’d spent that afternoon over with Taehyung and now met Yoongi? That didn’t seem remarkable… “It’s nice to meet you,” she continued on. “And great to meet the owner of this place, I get noodles here all the time.”

“Thank you for keeping us in business.”

Yoongi seemed to be pointedly ignoring Jimin’s look because why had Yoongi said her name first?! Why hadn’t he just asked who she was? He realized now it would make it seem like he had talked about her, which he had but not in a nefarious way!

“Yoongi and I go way back,” Jimin explained to keep Hanbyul from feeling uncomfortable. “I helped him meet his wife! She’s an incredibly talented ballet dancer–”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“I hosted the party where you met.”

“So when you come here on a date, I’ll take the credit?”

Jimin flinched. It wasn’t all right to make that kind of a joke in front of Sun-young –or Hanbyul for that matter!

Trying to salvage it, he insisted, “Why would I bring someone here on a date? You think I can’t take someone somewhere nicer?”

“Well now you’re just insulting me,” Yoongi laughed. “What’s wrong with here for a date?”

“I think it’s nice here,” Hanbyul readily agreed. And now Jimin felt like an asshole.

“I just meant for a first date, you take someone to a really nice place! This is where I bring someone when– no, why are we talking about this?” he broke off, realizing this was a completely inappropriate conversation to have in front of his daughter. He broke out into a cold sweat and insisted, “I’m not dating anyone, Sunnie, don’t worry.”

“We already knew unnie before we brought her here,” Sun-young informed Yoongi. 

“Oh, is this a date?” Yoongi asked, with a particular sparkle lighting up in his eyes that made Jimin want to strangle him in cold blood.

“No,” “No,” Jimin and Hanbyul said at the same time Sun-young said, “Yes.”

“What do you think a date is?” Jimin asked, realizing there must be a misunderstanding here. 

“I know what a date is,” she smiled and instead of saying anything further, asked, “Appa, what was your first concert?”

Yoongi snickered at the way Jimin flustered and reeled, trying to catch up, not sure what to correct or explain. He glanced at Hanbyul in the hopes she would say something elegant but she just shoved a mouthful of noodles in, and then caught his eye and it was obvious she didn’t want to answer. He wasn’t sure which of them started laughing first but when she choked on her noodles he reached out to pound on her back.

“I’ll leave you to it. Mochi is on me when you’re done,” Yoongi offered and disappeared like a disruptive shadow.

Sunnie was waiting for an answer though, like she couldn’t even hear her dad and neighbor laughing, and repeated, “Who was your first concert, Appa? How old were you?”

“Uh… ok, you’re all right now? Hm, I think it was Super Junior. I was older… fifteen? Sixteen? I saw dance troops before that but I think that was my first concert.”

“Oh! Is that why the blonde hair?” Hanbyul asked. Then grimaced and explained, “I mean… they had blonde hair, didn’t they?”

“Are you asking if I dye my hair to look like a member of a k-pop group I saw twenty years ago?”

“Um…” Hanbyul’s eyes look very wide.

“No!” he laughed. “This is my natural color!”

“He’s lying! He dyes it every six weeks but he won’t let me dye my hair,” Sun-young tattled, as if Hanbyul might not know he was in fact not a natural blonde. 

“Your hair is perfect, I don’t want you to bake it.”

“What color do you want it to be?” Hanbyul asked her.

“Hm… white.”

“White!” Jimin repeated.

“Oh, that’s cool.”

“Not all white. Some black and some white.”

“Like a zebra?” Jimin screwed his face up.

“It’s cool, Appa.”

“I’m out of style on what’s cool,” he confessed to Hanbyul. As soon as he said it, he knew it would annoy Sun-young. “I just decide what I want to do for my style and do it.”

“That’s cool too,” Hanbyul assured him. 

Sun-young beamed, “When I get older I’ll dye my hair, ok?”

“Ok, maybe,” he conceded. “I just don’t want you to burn it and then it all falls out.”

“Your hair isn’t falling out.”

“Eh…” he grimaced.

“I think it’s ok if we’re bald together,” Sun-young decided. “If we at least had fun getting there.” Jimin’s heart thumped and he didn’t know what to say. Was he a sap that hearing his daughter say that melted him into silence in an instant?

“That’s quite profound,” Hanbyul said with a warm smile that made him feel like she understood too. She didn’t think he was a sap for being affected by that.

“What does profound mean?”

“Very wise. But if you want white stripes, maybe you can do tie-ins first and it won’t damage your hair?”

Sun-young grinned, “I think you are very profound too, unnie. Right, Appa?”

“Sure, sure. Except when she’s accusing me of trying to look like an idol from twenty years ago…”

“Is that bad?” Hanbyul asked and looked sincerely concerned.

He tried to look upset but couldn’t maintain it for long and admitted, “No, actually I think it’s flattering… but I don’t think I can admit my style is twenty years out of date!”

“No, you have a really good style! Contemporary!”

“It’s ok,” Sun-young conceded. Jimin couldn’t thank her, he laughed so hard at her slight compliment. She must have meant it to be funny though because she giggled too, and Hanbyul laughed and–

And it was just very easy. It was just a very easy, good night, one of the best ones Jimin could remember having in a fucking long time. He didn’t know what to do with that, how much joy he felt just sitting in a noodle shop late at night with his daughter and his neighbor. Was it just post-concert fumes? But he thought it was more than that, and he didn’t know how to hold onto that feeling, but he wanted to.

The feel-good glow of the concert lasted less than a week. Tuesday Sun-young complained of a headache to get out of solo practice with Hoseok but then didn’t have too much of a headache to sneak the house phone into her room to call Ginam. Wednesday Sun-young had a poor attitude at her ballet class; Jimin could see it in the way Young-geul carefully chose her words in describing Sunnie’s progress in the ensemble choreography for the recital. Jimin expected she’d perk up for hip hop rehearsal on Thursday, seeing as she’d begged so hard for that class in the first place.

Instead he had to go into the school again to fetch her when she didn’t come out. At least she wasn’t off in a hidden science room melting lab tables or anything; he found her walking at an actual glacier’s pace through the school hallway. As slowly and meticulously placing one foot in front of the other as if this were a choreographed routine –except it wasn’t. She had a class to get to!

“What are you doing!?” he cried. “Let’s go!”

“I am going.”

“Like a snail,” he scolded and reached for her arm. She pulled away and gave him a scathing glare. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s your hiphop class!”

“I know.”

“So let’s go, we don’t want to be late.”

“I do…” she mumbled.

“Park Sun-young. To disrespect your teacher and the other dancers in the class– you wouldn’t do that. What’s gotten into you this week? Didn’t we have a fun weekend?”

“Yes,” she pouted. “But it doesn’t mean I want to go to dance class. I’d rather…”

“Rather what?” he asked when she just trailed off. Not that it mattered. He got behind her and nudged her along and she at least took slightly bigger, quicker steps. Not that her answer mattered. Yeah, sometimes he felt like doing something besides dancing too, but discipline was an important lesson! “You become a better dancer by putting in the effort even on days you don’t feel like it,” he said, pretty sure a teacher had said that to him when he was younger as well. Although not at her age. He wished he had been dancing at her age, but he hadn’t gathered the money, freetime, and bravery needed to give dance a try until middle school, and then a day in which he didn’t want to dance was rare. He knew what a blessing it was to be excused from the family rice cake shop to go dance. 

“I’d rather be sleeping I guess,” she grumbled. “I’m tired. I don’t feel good. I can walk home by myself and you can go to your class.”

“Absolutely not.”

“But Appa…”

He pressed his hand to her perfectly normal looking and feeling face, then the back of her neck, then reached for her wrist to feel her pulse. Not that he could really read a pulse, but it succeeded in calling her bluff.

“Appa, stoooop.”

“You’re fine. Now let’s go.”

“I can walk home with Boyeon–”

“Everyone’s already gone! The school is empty and we’re going to be late!”

“No, Boyeon is still in the science lab, I can go–”

Science. Science.

“Walk. Now.” Jimin’s voice had an edge to it, one which Sun-young rarely heard and took seriously when she did. Her head drooped but she moved her feet finally and the two of them hauled ass through the city to get to the dance studio. 

As they got closer to the studio though, Sun-young began to bounce and shuffle, clearly nervous.

“What is it now, Sunnie?” he sighed, at least trying to sound gentler. “Do you need to go potty?”

“Appa! I’m nine, I don’t say potty. And no!”

“Then what’s the problem?” he asked. He held the door for her to slide past him into the building, but there she stopped even though her class was up on the next floor.

“I… I forgot my dance stuff.”

“You’re holding your dance bag,” he said, eyes narrowed suspiciously. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek to keep himself from snapping out anything else; he was baffled why she would lie about something so obviously untrue.

She nodded and didn’t meet his eyes, “I know but um… it’s my ballet stuff. I forgot my hiphop clothes.”

“Well you can just dance in…” But she wore her school uniform and slightly heeled loafers, not at all appropriate for a hiphop dance class. Besides, he didn’t believe her, her dance bag was right there on her shoulder and he’d never heard of her separating out her gear before. “What are you talking about? Your dance bag– oof, why is it so heavy?” he demanded as he slipped it off her shoulder. 

“It’s nothing– Appa, don’t! Appa!”

He ignored her protest and grabby hands as he let the bag thunk to the ground and crouched to unzip. 

Her smaller ballet bag was in there, sure enough, shoes and all, but instead of her dance shoes and gym clothes for hiphop class, five books took up the space instead. He only saw titles for two (Astrophysics for Young People in a Hurry by Neil Degrasse Tyson and a book about tornadoes eloquently titled TORNADOS!) before admitting,

“I’m confused. Why do you have so many books in your dance bag instead of–”

“They were due at the library today and I forgot to turn them in.”

“Well what’s in your backpack then?” he asked. Before guessing, “More books? You forgot to return all these books– then get another bag! Why didn’t you bring your dance stuff? You know you have hiphop today!”

“I know! But I thought– I hoped maybe– I don’t know!” she cried and looked as if she might be on the verge of really crying.

Jimin breathed out through his nose, brain scrambling to figure out what to do. Late library books (and there seemed to be a lot) were going to have fines he didn’t want to pay. Sure it was only a small fine per book, but it was the principle of the matter. Sun-young shouldn’t be late returning books! And she shouldn’t be late to dance class, or showing up without her things! He knew for a fact they didn’t have a spare pair of shoes in her size and he didn’t want her dancing in the studio without shoes; the last thing she needed right now was a broken toenail or bruised ankle. He didn’t understand how she’d made such a mess of something so easy and routine.

“Ok,” he decided. “You go get started with warmups. I’m going to run home and get your dance shoes and bring them here, then I’ll take these books back to the school library for you. I can do all that before my class– Sunnie, why didn’t you just say about the books while we were still in your school?”

“I don’t know… I didn’t want you to know I have them…”

“They’re books, not cocaine.”

“They’re science books, it might as well be the same thing to you!” she defended hotly.

Jimin fought hard not to roll his eyes. She was being ridiculous! Just because he didn’t want her throwing away her dance career at the fresh age of nine didn’t mean she was banned from consuming science! In fact, reading science books was perfect, because she could do that around her dance classes!

“Just go warm up,” he sighed. “Tell them I’ll be back with your stuff as quick as I can.” It would be faster if he took a cab but it was such a waste of money for such a ridiculous mistake.

Sun-young scurried away and Jimin scurried the opposite direction, her backpack and useless dance bag both strapped to him so he could jog. 

He was winded and sweaty by the time he got back to their apartment, and in no mood for the way Sun-young had tossed her shoes and typical dance clothes in the corner, wadded up. This wasn’t how he’d raised her at all! He shoved them into the bag with an angry huff –and only now realized that since he had to go all the way back to the studio to give them to her, he should have just left the books there instead of lugging them all the way home. Fuck! Her scrambled brain was making his brain scrambled too!

He gave himself a minute only to grab a drink from the kitchen and catch his breath. Then, in leaving the apartment, had the idea that maybe he could ask Hanbyul to drop off the books. Fuck, except it was only 4pm and she didn’t get home until after 5. 

And yet in passing her door, he could have sworn he heard voices right beside it. In a moment of weakness, he paused and leaned in close. It wasn’t possible to hear what was being said, but he definitely picked up a low voice, laced through with her softer, lighter one. 

Why was Hanbyul home early, and with a man? Not that it was any of Jimin’s business or anything but… what if she’d gotten sick or something? Or maybe something in her apartment had broken and it was a contractor? That made him nervous; not all contractors could be trusted and it might be obvious that she lived there alone. And if something had broken, she could have mentioned it to him for help; she’d admitted before she hated calling about broken things, but he didn’t mind it at all.

“Focus, Park Jimin,” he muttered to himself as Sunnie’s book bag– no, dance bag!-- dug into his shoulder. It didn’t matter who was in her apartment with her, he couldn’t just run to Hanbyul to help with things that weren’t her problem. He was the dad here, he needed to clean up his daughter’s mess and get to the bottom of all of this. He turned from her door and stretched his calves in the elevator to prepare for the jog back to the studio. At this rate he was going to be danced out before his class even began.

*******

At least Sun-young wasn’t giving him the silent treatment this time, but the forced small talk was awkward. They ate their late dinner in silence and then she went off to do homework while he dealt with bills at the dining room table. Expensive, expensive, everything here was so expensive on only one income. Not for the first time he thought about how much easier some things would be if he took Sun-young to live closer to his parents, or even with his parents. They’d kept him on the right track for his childhood! Clearly he was fucking something up with Sunnie and she wasn’t even a teenager yet!

He waited until she was asleep later that night to call –double checking to make sure she was really asleep and wouldn’t overhear him calling his mom to tell her about things lately. Perhaps against his better judgment, he told her about the forged permission slip, and the forgotten dance clothing, and the books, and the attitude about dance class. But he needed to talk to someone about it, and none of his close friends had raised children or could really understand, even if they meant well. 

She listened to it all with far more of a sense of humor than he cared for. Apparently she found it amusing that Sun-young was giving him a run like this.

“She’s a bright girl,” his Eomma mused, voice full of pride instead of worry or warning. “Stubborn, like her appa.”

“But I was stubborn about the things that were good for me,” he argued. “Once I could dance, I never took it for granted.”

Eomma chuckled, “Yes, yes, stubborn about the thing you cared about. Was it the right thing? It turns out, it was for you, I think. It’s hard to know.”

“But in this case, I do know. Sunnie is talented at dance. She’s worked hard to be good at dance, she loves it there, it’s her home. I mean, she was practically born and raised in that studio!”

“Yes, how brave to take a step away from it, hm?”

Jimin scowled and warned, “It sounds like you are saying I should just let her quit dance. Throw away all her hard work. Do you know how many times people tell me that they wish their parents had made them stick with something because later they have nothing?”

“I’m not telling you to do anything. Do I think she should dance? Yes, of course, she’s a beautiful dancer. Ah, Jimin my son, you are as stubborn as your daughter, do you know?”

“I’m protective, Eomma. I’m trying to do the best for her.”

“Do you know, I wanted you to be a lawyer! Or a doctor. You were smart, so very smart, Class President. Nobody else in our family was class president, did you know that?”

“I did know that,” he mumbled. He also remembered her expressing those wishes for him. His father had expressed them longer than she had though; once he started to dance, she’d given it up, and he’d learned to live with that tickle of fear that he’d disappointed his parents in such a fundamental way that he would never do anything right by them again. For all he knew, that was still true. He lived far away, did not make a lot of money, had a beautiful daughter they didn’t get to see enough, and he’d lost his wife. 

“But you knew dance was the right thing for you, oh you said that to us so many times, with your heart and soul and your sparkling eyes, even though you worked so hard in the shop too. You were so certain and I saw with my own certainty that if we did not bend, our relationship would break.”

“Eomma…”

“Do you know how many women I know whose sons, daughters, they don’t talk anymore? They hate their Eommas and Appas. You said it’s because they let them quit. I say it’s because sometimes they didn’t let them quit, or try something else. How do we tell what the right thing is to do as parents? We’re all trying our best.”

“Yes,” Jimin could at least agree with that.

“You are always so certain about the things you believe in,” Eomma continued. “Your conviction is so strong! You wanted to dance, you wanted to live in Seoul, you wanted to run a studio with your friends. But a daughter is not like those things. You can’t choose much of anything for her, even if sometimes it hurts so deeply, knowing you can’t make everything right for your child. Especially when it hurts them.” Jimin swallowed and leaned away from the emotion in her voice. He knew when she was talking about his loss, and as much as he appreciated that she was sad for him about it, he couldn’t give into grief right now.

Instead he focused on his surprise that she wasn’t backing him up, and pressed, “Aren’t you going to say to me that children should respect their parents? Parents shouldn’t just give in to every whim of their child –that’s always what you and Appa say! You say I spoil her too much with–”

“Bending is not the same as bowing! Bending is difficult for you, Jimin. I understand. Maybe it’s even harder now, since…” She didn’t have to say it. Since Subin died. “As a parent you realize how little you actually control and it makes you want to do more. But parents who do not bend, they will lose their children or make them miserable. Which is worse?”

“So you’re saying I should just let her quit.”

“I don’t say this or that. I’m just saying things, don’t listen to me. Can’t she do both? I don’t know, wouldn’t it be nice to have a doctor or an engineer in the family?”

Jimin managed to suppress his sigh. He loved his eomma dearly and her advice was both helpful and not at the same time, but he appreciated it. There was wisdom behind it, even if he didn’t want her pressing Sun-young to be a doctor anymore than–

Ugh. But what if he was doing the same thing with dance?

But Sun-young had always loved danced! From infancy! She’d always said she wanted to be a dancer, and if she quit now, it might be impossible for her to catch up later in any meaningful way!

Jimin was exhausted from the day, and didn’t find the peace he had hoped for in talking with Eomma. There was nothing more he could do about it today though.

This would all be easier if Subin was here. Subin would be able to understand what Sun-young was going through. Maybe it wasn’t even the science thing! Maybe she had other little girl things going on she didn’t want to talk to her dumb old dad about and there was nothing he could do and even if he let her quit every dance class and just live in a science lab, she’d still hate him. Even going to see Mango Crush hadn’t bought him more than a few days of good will.

He got a beer from the fridge but didn’t feel like drinking it alone. But it was sort of late, and he didn’t feel like getting embroiled in any of the dating drama Taehyung or Jungkook would throw his way, and Yoongi was working, and Hoseok was absolutely asleep, and his acquaintances after that weren’t ones he was going to call to come over for a beer at 10 o’clock. Besides, he didn’t really feel like seeing any of them right now, he wanted to just be alone. But not alone with himself.

Briefly he thought about Hanbyul. Maybe more than briefly. Her presence would be welcome. Nothing about her was ever intrusive or abrasive. She always struck just the right balance between listening to him vent and distracting him from pointless thoughts. Fuck, did he vent too much to her? Definitely. He shouldn’t bother her right now.

He went to her door anyway. He knocked and waited. Hudu started barking right away, oops, and then she took an unusually long time to come to the door so that he worried she’d already gone to bed. When she opened it, she had a robe pulled around her body and squinted like she had been asleep, but her makeup was still on.

“Jimin? Is something wrong?”

“Um…” He trailed off when Hudu only looked up at him, then went running off somewhere further into the apartment. And in the distance, a masculine voice said something lowly.

“Nope. Sorry, I was just going to invite you over for a beer but–” It seems you have company?! “--looks like you already went to bed. I’m so sorry for waking you–”

“No, it’s fine. It’s ok. There’s nothing wrong?”

“Nope, absolutely nothing wrong. Just… nothing at all,” he grinned, pouring every ounce of charm he could into distracting her from his own incredibly awkward feelings. Holy shit, Hanbyul had a man in her apartment and they were– obviously they were– was it the same man who had been there six hours ago?!

“Goodnight,” he said and practically ran down the hall. Damn, he was tired of running today.

*******

“Everything all right?” Namjoon asked as Hanbyul returned to the bedroom. She tossed Hudu a dental chew on the way to apologize for banishing him from the bedroom earlier, but there were some things her favorite little pup was not invited for. Not to the fancy dinner Namjoon had taken her to at a place with live music, not to the swank bar afterwards, and definitely not to her own bed, where Namjoon had so suavely removed every item of her clothing for the kind of sex Hanbyul thought was fake.

Wow.

Yeah, it turned out he’d had a good excuse. His mother was in the hospital, doing fine now, but he’d been a little distracted. He was very close with his parents and had gone right to her side.

Charming.

He sat on the edge of her bed now, chest and arms so deliciously bare in the low lights she’d left on, though he’d regrettably pulled his boxers and slacks back on. Hanbyul decided her legs couldn’t hold her much longer and she sat beside him, still a little knobby-kneed from earlier.

“Yes,” she said belatedly. “Everything’s fine, yeah. Just a neighbor asking about– it’s not important.” Talking about Jimin to Namjoon threatened to shake loose the careful coolness she’d managed to maintain throughout this unbelievable evening. She’d done such a good job of staying focused on this man and she didn’t want to ruin it now, just because seeing JImin at her door had first terrified her that something was wrong with Sun-young, and then terrified her that he would be able to tell she’d just had sex. Which felt like something he shouldn’t know. Even though it shouldn’t matter because it’s not like they were a couple or anything! But it felt unfaithful, after that fun time with the concert last weekend… but it wasn’t unfaithful! That was just a fun social event with her neighbor and his daughter. She was not dating Jimin, even if she wished she was. Oh god, but that was unfaithful to Namjoon!

Namjoon let out a deep, satisfied-sounding sigh and leaned in to kiss her before admitting, “I should get going. Early morning tomorrow.”

“Me too.”

“Thanks for inviting me in. I had a great time today.”

“Me too.”

She walked him to the door where he kissed her again and she had that feeling of disbelief that this man had wanted four dates with her now, and that she’d found him so quickly. He had to have a flaw, certainly, but she hadn’t found it yet, except maybe his taste in women… OK, that was too mean to herself. But she focused on the kiss, and enjoyed the kiss, then scooped Hudu up so he wouldn’t run out. He wasn’t totally enamored with Namjoon yet, but they didn’t not get along and Namjoon clearly wanted Hudu’s affection, so that wasn’t a dealbreaker.

He opened the door and stepped out then turned to her and laughed, “You know, it’s such a small world. My buddy lives right down the hall from you.”

Hanbyul froze except for the clench of her very sore abdominal muscles.

“Um… what’s your buddy’s name?”

“Park Jimin. Have you met him?”

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