word count: just a little over 2.5k

recommended listening: turn - the wombats, finally // beautiful stranger - halsey

premise: jungkook throws tantrums but so does his girlfriend. match made in hell, but they both like the warmth of satan's firey pit, so they stay there quite content.

pairing: idol!jungkook x reader (established romance)

inspiration: wrote too much angst and just wanted something that made me feel cosy lol. chapter title is from 'turn' by the wombats x

P.S. British English spelling (hence tyre instead of tire) x

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"Oi, Jungkook, pack it in. You're gonna wear yourself out, and we've not even reached the second half of the set yet," Hoseok called across the frantic dressing room.

Staff were buzzing about, helping the boys get ready for their next stage. The VCR, which was keeping the crowd distracted while they got changed, wasn't long enough for a full-blown discussion, but someone needed to tell Jungkook to sort himself out.

He'd been at it like a mad man for the entire show.

Naturally, the fans were loving it. His energy was infectious, and he'd been trending worldwide on Twitter from the get-go as a result of it.

"He's right," Jimin added when Jungkook merely grunted.

A stylist was dabbing at his skin with a micro-fibre towel, gently drying the sweat that had poured from him. He knew they were right - his heart rate had barely slowed despite the quick break, and he definitely hadn't had enough water to replenish his dwindling resources.

In the corner of the room, Jin leant over to Yoongi and whispered out of earshot, "How much do you wanna bet that we're gonna wake up to a cake or six in the morning?"

Smirking, Yoongi looked up from his phone over the youngest member. He had a face of thunder and attitude to match. "Hope she makes her cheesecake again. Shit was delicious."

"Alright boys, you're up!" A stage runner called from the doorway. "Let's crush it!"

Rolling his head back against his shoulders, Jungkook sighed.

He knew that the boys were talking sense, but it was impossible to reason with him when he was like this. There was only one person who could ever seem to talk sense into him.

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Across town, you were baking.

It was your fourth cake of the evening. One Victoria sponge, two chocolate fudge brownies, and currently, you were smashing digestive biscuits in a ziplock bag with a little too much aggression.

Cheesecake. Check.

If you hit any harder, the bag would split and send crumbs all over the kitchen. You really couldn't deal with the hassle of it, but you also really wanted to absolutely batter the buttery biscuits to smithereens.

Wooden rolling pin in hand, you were just about to land another fatal blow to the sweet treats when your phone began to buzz incessantly.

"Oh, I KNEW IT!" Your best friend yelled, as you appeared on each other's screens via a facetime call.

"Knew what?" You questioned a little curiously, setting the rolling pin down on the counter.

"What did you argue about this time?"

She was grinning far too much for someone who thought their best friend was in a state of distress - but she knew you, and she knew your relationship with Jungkook almost as well as she knew her own mother.

"Did you try and put IKEA furniture together again without instructions? Or did he cheat on you in his dreams again?"

"Okay, one, it wasn't my fault that I was looking at the diagrams upside down, and two, no. He hasn't done that since, like, last May," you grinned, remembering the way the pair of you had bickered for nearly a week straight over a very unfortunate dream of his that he should have known better than to share with you. "What makes you think we're fighting? We're fine."

That wasn't a lie. As a couple, you were fine - but you were also fighting.

"Well I wasn't sure, but seeing you in your baking attire confirmed it," she shrugged, knowing that you tended to bake out your frustrations. "And your boy's trending all over Twitter. He looks exactly the same as he did that one time you watched the newest series of Stranger Things without him."

"He was on tour!" You laughed.

Admittedly, it had been something that you'd always watched together. The only reason he found out is because he'd been stealing your Netflix off of you, so he only had himself to blame.

You were just going to pretend that you hadn't seen it, and intended on rewatching it with him when he got home.

He'd sulked for four days, and had watched nine true history movies on Victorian-era Great Britain just to ruin your Netflix landing page in retaliation. It had been months, and you were still getting recommendations based on his Dickensian binge, even now.

"What's the damage?" You grimaced, not sure that you really wanted to know.

"The words 'he growled' are trending in capital letters," she grinned. "Number two worldwide."

"Christ."

After a little more chat, and an obviously bullshit denial of a fight, the call ended and you headed straight to Twitter to see what she had been on about.

Sure enough, it was there for all to see: Jungkook with a face of thunder, and looking hot as hell doing so. The fans had gone crazy, and you couldn't blame them, but you also couldn't help but notice that there was still at least another hour of the show to go. He didn't normally look so burnt out this early on.

You knew that he was only like this because of the argument that you had had earlier that day, and your heart ached, feeling responsible. While you weren't ready to back down from it just yet, you also cared too much about him to not reach out and check-in with him.

Sappy displays of affection had never really been either of your forte, instead preferring to veil serious topics with a joke, and now was no exception.

You watched as three tiny dots appeared in the bottom corner, wriggling about like a curious caterpillar. With any luck, they'd cocoon and form a message, which would unfold onto your screen with all the grace of a freshly-hatched butterfly.

Almost as soon as they appeared, they were gone again. Asshole.

And so, you went back to your biscuits.

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It was nearing midnight and you still hadn't heard from Jungkook.

The concert had been over for a while now, long enough for him to at least send a text just to check-in and let you know he was done. But he hadn't.

Instead, he'd posted a post-show picture to Twitter - just of the fireworks looking magical, but you knew that the photographer would have looked just as divine.

Sighing, you tossed your phone down, accepting the fact that he might have just fallen asleep. He'd gone hard during the show, and you knew that he must have been exhausted. At least he'll sleep well, you thought to yourself, selfishly a little bit sad that you wouldn't get the luxury of a sleepy Jungkook in your bed.

Having only just finished clearing the kitchen up, you weren't really sure what to do with yourself. Unusually, you and Jungkook both had the day off tomorrow, but if he was still having a tantrum then you knew that you may as well try and get blood from a stone. It would be more fruitful than trying to make plans with him.

Pushing your lips into a pout, you were just about to flick your TV off when you heard the pin pad of your door beeping. There was only one person who knew the code to your door, and it's because he had reset it when he was drunk to your anniversary date.

You watched Jungkook as he waltzed into your apartment like he owned the place.

Slinging his rucksack down by the door, he kicked off his shoes without a word. It was almost like perfectly choreographed footwork, the way in which he stepped into the sliders that he wore around your apartment.

The slippers were always ready and waiting for him by the door, even when he was being an asshole.

Neither of you said a word, but both of you were fighting a grin.

Collectively you were still furious, damnit, but you managed to get underneath each other's skin like no tomorrow.

It was so much easier to stay mad from a distance - not so easy when he could see you wearing one of his shirts, or when he looked, well, like that.

Picking up a pair of chopsticks that had been left on the draining board, Jungkook turned nonchalantly to the island counter, which partitioned the kitchen from the living area. You were sat on the sofa by the window, legs curled up, Netflix playing some shitty rom-com in the background.

Eyeing him with great curiosity, you couldn't figure out his intentions. His cheeks were appled, displaying the smile that his lips and flared nostrils were so desperately trying to hide. Reaching for a Tupperware cake box that had been stacked neatly on the side, he unclipped it.

Sitting pristine was a vanilla cheesecake, perfect and unspoilt. You hadn't even marked out cut-lines, as you hadn't decided if you were going to decorate it or not.

Looking towards you, Jungkook's eyes were half-moons. He was challenging you.

"Don't you dare," you gasped, coming to a horrible realisation. The man was a psychopath. You were sure of it. "Jungkook, I am warning you-"

Smirking, he stabbed his chopsticks right into the heart of the cheesecake.

As if the cake was a voodoo doll, you raised your hands to your chest and flailed down onto the sofa.

"How could you?!" You cried with almost believable heartbreak.

Pinching up the chunk he had claimed, Jungkook tossed it into his mouth and rolled his eyes back as if he was tangled in your sheets with you. "Fuck me, how do you do it? So fuckin' good," he groaned, the flavour melting onto his tongue.

There was nothing about your baking that he didn't love; the cakes themselves, the smell of your apartment, and the slightly erratic maniac you became in the midst of a baking frenzy. It made sense, considering he had met you in the middle of meltdown at the bakery that you worked in part-time.

He should have known right there and then that you could be a little hot-headed, curse words tumbling from your lips, flour streaked across your cheeks. If he was being honest, he did know - he just liked it too much to deny himself the luxury of getting to know you. He'd return every single day for lunch, sometimes grabbing a pastry, other times asking for baking tips that he would never actually use. It was just an excuse to talk to you.

Once semester started back up again after the summer holidays, and your hours changed to weekend and evening shifts, Jungkook knew he had to change tactics.

The executives at the company office thought he was a little bit mad when he asked them to draw up a contract for a baking instructor, something of which he had never shown any interest in before. He'd had a lot of hobbies, and a lot of tutors, but this one was definitely a little bit left-field for him.

Still, you had agreed, and somewhere between the mess he made sifting flour, and the scalding burns that you'd had to treat after he'd forgotten to wear oven gloves for the billionth time, he'd won you over.

He still couldn't bake for shit, but he'd got himself a girlfriend who could, so he didn't care all that much.

Walking over to the sofa with the cheesecake in one hand, he played at it with the chopsticks, picking up a chunk and holding it out for you.

You were never one to normally blow your own trumpet, but as the vanilla notes hit your palette, you could see why he was such a sucker for it.

Placing it down on your coffee table, he huddled in behind you, the scent of his aftershave just as heavenly as the taste of your cheesecake. His hair was still a little damp from his post-concert shower, but you didn't mind.

"I'm sorry that I shouted at you in the car," Jungkook mumbled into the crook of your neck, hugging you tightly.

"I'm sorry that I shouted back," you muttered against his shirt with a pout, not really wanting to admit defeat. "And for directing you off the wrong slip road...four times."

Okay, so maybe it had been your fault, and maybe you had been too busy flicking through his driving playlist to tell him where to turn off - but he knew you well enough to know that you shouldn't be trusted as shotgun.

Only a couple of months ago, the pair of you had ended up en-route to Busan on the way home from breakfast, on account of your bad directions. You hadn't actually expected him to keep driving southwards once he'd realised the error that you had made, but he had, and you'd spent the weekend traipsing around his old haunts.

That was the beauty of your coupling: things went wrong, constantly, but they always ended up feeling just right.

"Sorry for saying that your directions were about as useful as a hog roast at a vegan convention," he was sheepish in tone, but you could feel his smile against your skin.

"Well, I mean, you weren't wrong," you laughed a little, and so did he. "In my defence, you've always known that directions aren't my strong point."

"We're not getting into this again," Jungkook pressed a kiss against your temple, knowing that your competitive nature would only lead to the pair of you 'debating' again.

You had never really been angry with each other - you were just stressed from upcoming finals, and he'd been working himself to the bone, cramming in as much time in the studio as he could before the band left the city. With the tour set to embark on its North American leg next month, it felt like he didn't have enough time for, well, anything.

But for now, the world could pause for just an evening.

It was just him, his girl, and a damn mean cheesecake - and he didn't think he would have rathered anything else.

A/N: can't promise I won't write a jk x baker girl origin story fic lol x