Chapter Text
"dreamer girl with the messed up coke teeth"
Jungkook: has the golden boy finally fallen from grace?
We all know how much Jeon Jungkook likes to party. From karaoke nights in Seoul to rendezvous in Paris, this rockstar is no stranger to the paparazzi. But how far is too far?
Fresh off a world tour, it’s normal for artists to want some downtime. However, Jungkook seems to be taking the term letting loose to new heights. Last night the ‘Diamond Dollface’ singer brought home three awards at the Grammys with his band, but as he accepted them fans noticed he was increasingly more intoxicated each time. Slurring his words through his third speech of the night, the 23-year-old had to be helped off stage by guitarist Jung Hoseok and bassist Min Yoongi.
Kim Namjoon, the drummer for the rock group seemed to let his calm facade crack as the group left the award show. Multiple sources reported that Kim’s yelling could be heard from different rooms as the young frontman decided to go to West Hollywood for a night of celebration rather than his multi-million dollar home. Paparazzi caught Jungkook sneaking two girls into a hotel room a few hours later, hiding behind his security guard and a pair of YSL shades.
Fans have been expressing their concern for Jeon for the past year, the star recently came under fire for punching a supposed fan in Milan. The singer was in hot water until a video resurfaced of the altercation and the man was heard to be shouting slurs at the star.
Jeon built his career on controversy, him and his bandmates routinely calling out the western music industry for xenophobia, the controversial moment when on his first red carpet he donned red lipstick, and how he responded to criticism by performing on the Tonight Show in a pleated skirt. The frontman’s fans have always outspokenly admired him for expressing himself, a large following of LGBT+ and people of color feeling welcome in a genre that had been catering to straight, cis, white men for years.
Whether you love to hate him or hate to love him, there is no denying that Jeon Jungkook is a star. But will that talent and charisma save him from his growing irresponsibility and arrogance? We’d love to know what you think!
Jungkook doesn’t look up as Seokjin slams the article onto the table. It’s silent in the conference room as his bandmates and industry team wait for him to acknowledge it. Eventually, the singer becomes irritated with the quiet and looks up, meeting Seokjin’s gaze with a defiant glint in his eyes.
“I don’t know what the big deal is. The guy was praising me for half the article,” he said slyly, reaching across the table to grab Yoongi’s JUUL. The bassist shook his head and moved it away, causing the younger to jut his lower lip out and sink back into his chair.
“Jungkook you know this wasn’t the only article. And you think a couple comments after saying you were stumbling off stage and taking girls back to a hotel is praise? This is getting serious.” Seokjin’s tone of voice was nearly feral. He’d been the bands' manager since they debuted.
He’d even been named Jungkook’s legal guardian at the time, the five of them had shared the same shoebox apartment in LA as Seokjin worked his ass off so that they could get recognition. Jungkook hadn’t really thought it out very much. He’d always loved music, always been good at singing. He remembered sneaking out of the house at the ripe age of fourteen and stumbling across an underground metal show. No one had paid him any mind as he squeezed his way into the packed theatre. There he was, standing in his sweatpants with his retainer-filled mouth and fresh bedhead when he saw Namjoon. He hadn’t been much older either, but you couldn’t tell as his face was screwed up in concentration as he absolutely went to town on his drums.
He had looked like a god on that stage, and Jungkook instantly realized that he would find a way to make it onto that stage with him. Of course, he hadn’t realized that Namjoon was merely a kid himself, and would have welcomed anyone willing to make music with him. They’d talked that night, Jungkook stumbling over his words as he asked Hoseok if he could help load up their van. As it turned out, Yoongi and Namjoon had only been a duo for a month, Hoseok joining just weeks ago. Jungkook had practically begged them to let him join, all of the members apprehensive of letting a fourteen-year-old in his pajamas in on their little group.
After they heard him sing, however, it was a no-brainer. And the second Jungkook turned sixteen he begged his parents to let him stay with Namjoon’s cool older cousin in the states. They’d refused, obviously. But then Seokjin had come to visit and charmed his way into not only becoming their manager(who knew..nothing about the music industry) but also into the heart of his parents.
Seokjin pulled back from the conference table, rubbing over his face with an exasperated sigh. He sat down in the chair across from the star, meeting Namjoon with a frown.
“Jungkook, we’re giving you a new manager,” He finally said, causing the younger man to shoot up in his chair.
“What? You’re quitting? After seven years you’re quitting?” He said incredulously, staring at him with disgust.
“I’m not quitting,” Seokjin countered him with a glare. “I just can’t handle this anymore. You are at the height of your career, busier than ever. Well, you’re supposed to be, but I can’t even do my job when all my time is spent trying to keep you in line.”
“What he’s saying is,” Namjoon continued for him, holding his hands out as he spoke. “You need a babysitter at this point. So you’ll now have another manager for just you to help you get your act together.”
Ridiculous. Jungkook worked his ass off, he deserved to have some time to act like a normal twenty-three-year-old. He sang on the albums, he went on tour, he did the press tours, and the fan meets, and the award shows. He should be able to party as much as he wanted in his off time, what did it matter if he let loose?
“That’s fucking stupid,” he spat, watching as Namjoon and Hoseok both recoiled from where they were sitting. “I can’t believe you would make such a big deal over a few nights out.”
Yoongi scoffed at that, drawing attention to himself for the first time in the meeting. Jungkook nearly frowned at the look on his face, it was an expression the man didn’t wear often. He was leaning back in his chair, his slim arms crossed over his chest. Lip turned up in disgust as he stared at his bandmate. The last time Jungkook had seen him so thoroughly upset, was when a music executive told an eighteen-year-old Jungkook he wouldn’t get any fans with nail polish on his fingers. Of course, Jungkook ended up with more fans than they all could have hoped for, and they all loved his self-expression but at the time it had hurt, and Yoongi said some choice words before storming out of the conference room with Jungkook tucked under his arm.
“What is ‘fucking stupid’ is this entitlement that you have going on,” Yoongi spat, leaning forward with his hands clasped together on the table. “You are ruining our image, as a band. Tabloids are already speculating that Hoseok has little sexcapades of his own and that I’m the one who gets you high every night.”
“Maybe if you did then the stick up your ass would be gone.” Jungkook regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. The room sat in silence as he watched his bandmate’s face turn into one of shock. Jungkook loved them, sure he got sarcastic and pissy when he was in a mood but he was never disrespectful. Until now, at least.
“We’re dropping you,” An exec finally said, his words cutting through the silence like a knife. Jungkook’s eyes flew to the man in the suit, watching his frown grow deeper. “Or we will, I should say. Your fans are loyal but our social media team has said they have been expressing concern for you. They are blaming it on us, saying we are working you until you snap. Not to mention the moment I checked my emails today I saw that two press events renounced their invite for your appearance after the Grammys.”
Jungkook could feel his body begin to shake as he frantically looked between his band members, only becoming more panicked as none of them met his eye.
“Taking you boys on was a risk..” The man continued delicately, Jungkook’s eyes went down to the glittery polish that was chipped on his nails, he knew exactly what kind of risk it was. They were the only label that was willing to sign a rock band of Asian boys who had a frontman that wore makeup and twirled on stage. “But it paid off, however, we are entering risky territory and this is not worth it in our opinion. If you don’t get your act together by the start of the tour, we will be forced to terminate your contract.”
Jungkook couldn’t move his eyes from his hands drumming on the table. “So what then? You get a new frontman?”
“No, Kook,” Hoseok says softly. “We signed on as a group, we would be dropped as a group.”
That changed things. Jungkook could feel the heaviness of the words set in, their meaning curling around him like a cloak. He still thought everyone was overreacting but if it was as bad as they said, it could very well ruin his career. He could deal with that, he had made his money, sure he would miss it but he knew the risks. But the other boys didn’t deserve that, he remembered waking up in the middle of the night in Seokjin’s one-bedroom apartment, stumbling out of bed to find Yoongi and Namjoon writing music. They’d had twelve-hour shifts the next day but they still sat around the kitchen table, songwriting in the dark because they struggled to pay the electric bill and were all too proud to ask their parents for help.
“Fine,” he gave in, he would do it for them. “I’ll ease up on the partying.”
“And the manager..?” Seokjin added on slowly.
“If I’ve learned anything about this company since I’ve worked here it’s that you have already hired them so just bring them in,” he said, feeling like his death sentence was about to walk through the door at any given moment.
One of the label workers nodded, stepping out of the room. All of the remaining occupants stayed silent, tension swirling around the space. It was cut short by the door opening and the intern walking back in with a sheepish smile. Jungkook felt himself knocked back the chair by the second man who walked in. He was of average height, maybe on the shorter side like Yoongi. Sandy brown hair was in neat waves by his face as he confidently strode past Jungkook to shake hands with Seokjin. Despite appearing younger than Seokjin, he didn’t bow. Might be Asian-American then, after seven years of living in the states, he was able to tell the difference on occasion.
Unlike the staff of the label who were full suits, this man was dressed in a baby blue button-up. His tongue swiped over his plush bottom lip as his eyes scanned the table. He nodded to each of the band members and the music executives before his gaze stopped on Jungkook. The rockstar felt pinned to his chair as the manager took a few short steps forward until he was directly in front of him, holding his hand out and giving him a wide grin.
“I’m Jimin Park, It’s nice to meet you.” Jungkook doubted it was actually nice to meet him, but he didn’t reply with a witty remark. Instead, he held his hand up in a daze, shaking it slowly.
He was expecting a middle-aged, balding, white dude, why was he so pretty?
His hand was soft, small inside of Jungkook’s own. The younger man flushed in shame, feeling almost embarrassed that his guitar calloused and chipped polished fingers were holding Jimin’s. Jungkook felt so childish compared to this man, which was a first. Jungkook always felt mature for his age, and he never saw older people as above him despite the industry and how he was raised. Maybe it was the way Jimin refused to break their eye contact or the warning aspect to his otherwise deceivingly friendly smile.
“Jungkook,” He replied dumbly, feeling even more embarrassed when Jimin laughed.
“Yes, I know who you are.” The man pulled his hand back and smoothed out his shirt before going to sit down beside Namjoon, directly across from Jungkook. He pulled out a binder and twirled a pen between his fingers. “I think we should discuss terms now that we are all ready.”
It seemed as though everyone else had been stuck under Jimin’s spell as well, the music execs shuffling their papers and looking caught off guard. The man raised a brow at the flustered manner of those in front of him before he sighed and brought out a paper, sliding it over to Jungkook.
“Your team and I have already worked out all of the financial issues, so we can skip the money talk. Everything can be worked out in the next week or so with my lawyers so we can just jump straight into my expectations of you if you’d like.”
“Your expectations?” Jungkook asked slowly as he looked down at the paperwork. There was a line with an ‘x’ to it that he knew all too well, it was a contract.
“Yes,” Jimin responded. “I’ve already emailed a copy to your lawyers and received their approval. It states that my work on you lasts until May 16th which should be about a month into your tour. I’ll continue to be your manager for the remainder of the tour but that is when your bootcamp ends.”
Jungkook furrowed his brows and read over the contract, recognizing his lawyers' handwriting in his letter giving his approval. It was dated for December, meaning his label had been working this out behind his back long before the Grammys. Anger swirled inside of him at the thought.
“What do you mean by ‘bootcamp’?” He asked with a testy tone, watching as the different people sat at the table stiffened. This excluded Jimin however, the manager smiling with the pen bouncing back and forth between his ring finger and his thumb.
“I specialize in rehabilitating artists, providing them rules and structure to get back on track,” he explained simply, as if it was obvious. “I’ve been very successful in it as well. I won’t be advising you like Seokjin does, since that clearly doesn’t work. I will be the deciding person in every choice you make.”
“Thanks but I left my parents back in Korea,” Jungkook replied sarcastically. The man looked unbothered by the attitude.
“Clearly you weren’t ready to. I’ll try not to step on your toes, Jungkook. But I’m not against doing so if that means I’m getting you to where you need to be.”
Embarrassment burned inside of Jungkook at the words being spoken to him. He did feel like a scolded child, like he was sitting in the principal's office being doled out detention. He looked down at the contract, not wanting to sit there and be scolded any longer. If it was good enough for his lawyers, it was good enough for him. He grabbed a black pen from the center of the table and scribbled his signature on it before pushing it across.
“You didn’t want to read to discuss it before signing it?” Jimin asked slowly, the smile on his face finally fading into an expression of confused apprehension. Jungkook crossed his tattooed arms over his chest stubbornly and looked away, shaking his head.
“Very well,” the manager sighed, putting it into his binder. “I’ll send you a copy by tonight.”
Jungkook tried not to follow the scent of his cologne as he left the room.
Jungkook woke up to delicate hands pushing at his bare chest. He groaned as he rolled over to his side, head pounding and throat dry. Flashbacks of the night before ran through his head.
He had been so frustrated after the meeting, he had to hold himself back from driving off a fucking bridge on his way home. He felt so embarrassed, so angry, so done with everything. He was three beers deep when someone texted him, a model he had met in New York who always had good coke on her. She was in LA for the night and wanted to have a good time. Typically Jungkook in a bad mood meant to leave him alone at all costs, but something strangely rebellious was ignited within him.
If Jimin thought he had the authority to treat him like a child, then he was about to act like one.
He’d gone all out, going from club to club and then to a stranger's apartment when the bars closed. He’d made out at least three different people throughout the night, all pressed against the wall of a club or the door of a car. Paparazzi had gotten it all, as well. Instead of ignoring them, or giving the occasional middle finger, Jungkook invited them into conversation as he took drags off his friend’s cigarettes. He was all too aware of the recording cameras documenting his every word and the questions that were phrased in a way that he knew he could get in trouble if he wasn’t careful.
It was nearing five am by the time he got home, stumbling into his grandiose house for one with a curvy redhead latched onto him. He wasn’t quite sure of her name but she smelled like lemon drop shots and he liked the birthmark on her back.
She seemed nice enough, which is why he was currently trying not to snap at her as she pushed him awake.
“Jungkook, there is someone at the door,” she hissed, causing him to groan once again as he opened his eyes. Her eyeliner was smudged down to her cheek, and her freckles were showing where foundation once covered them, she was pretty though. Which was always a toss-up when Jungkook took them home when he was fucked up.
“It’s probably no one important, anyone who should be here has a key.”
As soon as he said that, his phone rang. Jungkook kicked his feet, bringing a pillow over his face as he groaned. Of course, he didn’t want to answer it but the ringing made his head hurt more, so he reached over and accepted the call, bringing it to his ear.
“Hello?” he asked groggily, annoyance clear in his voice.
“You have exactly one minute to let me in before I call a locksmith,” Jimin said cheerily before he hung up.
He stared in shock as the screen went black on his phone, looking over to the girl that bit her lower lip nervously.
“Can you- uh go let him in? I have to get dressed.”
She nodded quickly, and Jungkook wrinkled his nose as he noticed that she was wearing his T-shirt. He hated it when his hookups wore his clothes. But he shook his head, ignoring that fact as she left down the hall. Jungkook stood up, stumbling slightly. Despite feeling generally miserable like any hangover, there was a possibility he was still drunk. He walked into his closet, shuffling through the different clothes as he finally slid on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. As he looked at himself in the mirror he attempted to fix his mussed hair and pulled up the collar of his sweatshirt to hide the blooming bruises that covered his throat.
As he made it downstairs he furrowed his brows at the sound of laughter. His eyes widened as he saw the redheaded girl sip on a pink smoothie as she giggled at Jimin. The man was dressed casually, a T-shirt and joggers like Jungkook. He had a smoothie of his own, a yellow straw pressed between his lips.
“Jungkook your manager is so funny,” The girl gushed, her round cheeks making her smile look even kinder.
“Thank you, I try,” Jimin replied before he stepped over to the counter where a messenger bag sat. He brought out a folder, licking his fingers to grasp a paper, and handed it to the girl. “I’m sorry Anna, but I’m sure you understand.”
The girl- Anna as Jimin had called her, swept her eyes over it before she nodded sheepishly and took a pen from the manager, signing quickly.
Jungkook leaned over his shoulder, his brow raising when he realized that she was in fact signing a non-disclosure agreement. Once she was finished she pushed the paper back over and slid off of the island chair, tucking her hair shyly behind her ear.
“I should probably go,” Anna said quietly, barely making eye contact with the rockstar. He wanted to laugh, they always got so shy the morning after, as if they’d forgotten all the things that had happened the night before. But this one was sweet, so he chose to smile and nod instead.
She leaned up on her toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she slipped out of the room, taking the pink smoothie with red cheeks as Jimin passed it to her on the way out.
“Nice girl,” Jimin drawled slowly now that they were alone. Jungkook’s mood soured immediately as he was reminded of the pounding headache and what the fact that his new babysitter was here meant.
“Yeah, met her at the club last night,” He replied, stepping around the kitchen island to go to his coffee maker, furrowing his brows when the Keurig cups were nowhere to be found.
“Which club?” Jimin asked with faux interest.
“Can’t remember,” the rockstar replied offhandedly as he looked through his cupboards. “My assistant bought me more coffee this weekend, fuck where are my pain meds?”
Jungkook had a whole cupboard in his kitchen dedicated to hangovers and coming down. Pain relievers, coffee, his favorite snacks, even Pedialyte packets, were all in there.
“And I had him come take it all away when I found out that you were out last night,” Jimin said with a grin, causing Jungkook to turn around with wide eyes.
“What the fuck? Why?”
“Because,” the manager started, rolling his eyes. Jungkook ignored the part of himself that found the act attractive. “If you want to go out, you can deal with the consequences of it. Why would I allow you to be comfortable after the giant mess you created for your publicist last night?”
The unbothered, borderline amused tone of voice Jimin used was gone. Instead, it was replaced with annoyance, as if Jungkook’s act of rebellion last night wasn’t worth getting angry over, as if he was just a bratty child acting out. An inconvenience.
“You can’t do that,” Jungkook finally said, not breaking eye contact with the older man for a second.
“Actually I can,” Jimin responded. “If you read the contract you signed, which not doing so was incredibly stupid, then you would know how much control I have over you right now.”
Jungkook snorted, irritation filling inside him even further as he sneered. “You can’t control me.”
Jimin, cool and collected as he always seemed, pulled his messenger bag over his shoulder and pushed his sunglasses over his eyes. “Your staff now will take my orders over yours, I have full access to all of your social media, you will not be in any sort of press without the go-ahead from me, and I know every single club owner In LA, so I will know where you go and I can decide when they make you leave. I will get you out of events before you can even find a bathroom stall to do a bump in. I always plan on being nice, but after that stunt you pulled last night when your friend’s jobs are in jeopardy? Now I do control you.”
Jungkook stared in shock at the man, panic swirling inside of him. Had he really just signed his freedom away so willingly? His lawyer had agreed too? Jungkook had known that man since he was eighteen, he had never led him down the wrong path. Why the fuck did he start now?
“Now,” Jimin said with a clap of his hands, smiling in a way that made Jungkook’s insides twist with apprehension. “The best way to get rid of a hangover is with some good old-fashioned exercise. Go put on your running shoes.”