the coffee shop contract | jjk
summary: apparently, having an instagram profile with a different girl in every picture is reason enough for your friends to strike up a deal where they’ll pay you to have a relationship. well, jeon jungkook’s no good at relationships, but a fake relationship isn’t a real relationship. is it?
{fake dating!au, college!au}
pairing: jungkook x female reader
genre: just fluff because i have a one-genre mindset
word count: 18k
warnings: alcohol consumption but no main character is overly drunk, dumb college antics, i know this is a fic but please don’t do these things in college actually
a/n: yes, this story is actually based on a real instagram account my friend showed me in college. oh yeah, college? that’s a thing. i’m sorry for taking so long with this fic, i’m trying my best but college is hard. please wait patiently for me and enjoy this plotless piece of garbage!
Jeon Jungkook thinks that his college experience is overwhelmingly standard. He goes to his classes (most of the time), goes to parties on the weekends (sometimes), goofs off with his friends when he’s supposed to be studying (all of the time), and eats like shit.
(The plus side to his eating-like-shit habits is that he’s a gym junkie, which means that in theory, every time he exercises he burns off all of the shit and just leaves the energy behind. In theory.)
He operates under the assumption that he leads a very normal college life. He is but a typical student with a very small budget who detests the fact that he has to buy brand new versions of his textbooks just so he can get the online access code. He thinks he’s nothing but average.
His friends think differently.
“It’s not that weird, guys,” Jungkook insists in a group study room one day, where neither he nor his friends happen to be studying. In fact, Jungkook’s laptop is dead. He forgot his charger in his bedroom. He has no idea what he thought he would be doing when Taehyung texted and asked if he wanted to come and study with them.
They are doing anything but studying.
Taehyung has been on his phone the entire time, and the same topic of conversation that circles their friend group every now and then is at hand. “Yes it is, Jungkook,” he insists. He holds his phone up to both Jungkook and Jimin to prove a point. “Think about it. Okay, I’m scrolling back and forth on Tinder—”
“You just swiped right on some random dude,” Jungkook points out monotonously, a single eyebrow raised. Next to him, Jimin bursts into the laughter he was doing a poor job of holding in. “Why do you even have Tinder? You’re dating someone, and he’s sitting right next to you.”
“Fuck,” Taehyung mutters in exclamation, quickly pulling his phone back to try and rectify his carelessness. “Wait, never mind, he’s cute.” Jungkook shakes his head to himself. “Stop trying to distract me! I’m trying to explain something to you!”
Taehyung resumes.
“Anyway, think about it. I’m scrolling back and forth on Tinder and I see this cute guy who goes to my school named Jungkook. His pictures feature some pretty decent selfies, no workout or shirtless pics, and an awful shot of him with two hot dogs shoved into his mouth at once, courtesy of his best friend,” Taehyung explains, beaming. He even makes a point to pull up the aforementioned hot dog picture. It’s not pretty, but it’s a good conversation starter. “His bio is pretty standard, likes adventuring, hates doing required readings for class, lives off of coffee. I like the look of him.”
“Get to the point, Tae,” Jungkook says with a sigh, tossing his head back in exasperation. It’s not as if he’s in any sort of rush to move on from the conversation because he has something better to do, because he doesn’t. He just doesn’t need to be grilled like this.
“I go to look him up on Instagram, because maybe he’s the kind of guy to have his profile public for the viewing of others.” Taehyung pulls up Jungkook’s Instagram. He had forgotten about how good his aesthetic was. “Lo and behold, his profile is public! Hurrah! I can stalk him happily just to see if he really is my type. But, wait, what’s this?”
Jungkook facepalms.
Taehyung keeps going, scrolling further and further down Jungkook’s page. “It looks like every single Instagram post is with a different girl. Wait! Maybe they’re the same one—nope, they just did their hair similarly. Huh. That’s strange. Every picture features a different girl, no repeats. Now I really don’t think I want to swipe right anymore. So I go back to Tinder, and I avoid the guy by the name of Jungkook at all costs.”
Jungkook thinks that maybe he shouldn’t have come to the group study room at all. Maybe, if he leaves now under the excuse that he forgot his laptop charger, he just won’t have to come back. Ever. For the rest of his educational career.
Taehyung puts his phone down on the table with a smack, staring at Jungkook with an extremely unimpressed look on his face.
“Are you going to do this every time I tell you I went on a date and I don’t think I want to go on another one?” Jungkook frowns. Maybe he needs new friends. Maybe that would be a better solution.
“Yes, because you’re a stand-up guy who’s funny and smart and got a hot ‘bod and you can’t seem to tie down anybody for more than a couple of months, max,” Taehyung tells him pointedly. He’s always been extremely good at backhanded compliments. “Aside from us, your best friends.”
“I’m rethinking the ‘best friends’ part,” Jungkook says. He can’t believe it, but he thinks he would rather be studying.
“You wouldn’t do that to the man who paid for new Airpods for you!” Taehyung cries out, loud enough for someone in the main study room to turn around and glare at the three of them.
“You’re the one who broke them! You dropped them on the street and let some biker ride right over them!” Jungkook reminds him, eyes wide. He remembers the image vividly, Taehyung snatching his earphones out of his hands as they walked towards their favorite Korean place, watching them tumble right out of his slippery fingers and onto the pavement, and a bicyclist with those flashing red lights attached their handles coming speeding down, right over the case. It was the most tragic thing that Jungkook has ever witnessed.
“And I bought you brand new ones that were engraved with your name like a good, rich best friend would.” He may be an eclectic international student majoring in economics like half of the campus, but at least Taehyung’s self aware.
“Well, it’s not like Jungkook’s going to redo his entire Instagram feed or anything,” Jimin adds callously. Someone gets it. “He’s got this whole muted, neutral-toned aesthetic going on. He also doesn’t seem to mind the lack of commitment.”
Taehyung tuts, shaking his head. He’s still on page one of his fifty-page reading on Economic Disparities in the Post-Cold War Global Stage. He has not even picked up his highlighter. “That’s where you’re wrong, sweet Jiminie.”
“I know you guys are dating, but please never say the phrase ‘Sweet Jiminie’ in front of me ever again,” Jungkook pleads.
“I’m willing to wager that with the right incentive, Jungkook will actually make an attempt at maintaining a real, long-term, committed relationship with someone he’s genuinely interested in,” Taehyung says, a devilish glint lacing his dark brown eyes.
Jungkook hates that look. It’s the same look he had when he suggested they roll their office chairs down the hall of the dorm at three in the morning freshman year. Same look he had when he had Jungkook take sensual nudes of him to send to Jimin pre-relationship because Jungkook apparently had the photography skills of Photous, the photography god (that Taehyung is convinced exists in Greek mythology). Same look he had right before he downed five Monster drinks consecutively, which had the opposite of the intended effect and caused him to pass out in the group study room.
“No favor you could do for me would make me even consider accepting this wager,” Jungkook tells him immediately. He loves his best friend, but multiple times Taehyung has said he’d do Jungkook’s laundry and ended up turning all of his white belongings pink—his bedsheets, towels, and a couple of his favorite shirts are now all cotton candy-tinged.
Taehyung shakes his head. “I’m not talking about favors, young padawan. I am talking cash, the cold, hard kind that you can feel clenched between your closed fist.”
Taehyung comes from a family with money to burn but never does he spend it so recklessly. Except maybe when he bought five Monster drinks with the intention to drink them all like vodka shots. He shuffles around his backpack (work still forgotten) before pulling out his wallet, slapping two hundred dollars onto the table in front of them.
Jungkook, the money-starved college student he is, immediately reaches out for the stack of bills, but Taehyung nabs it from him before he can regain any semblance of personal dignity.
“Ah ah ah,” he tuts condescendingly. Jungkook shrinks back into his wheely chair as he reminds himself that while taking Taehyung’s money may have short-term benefits, he will feel long-term guilt. “Not yet, Jungkookie. First, you need to accept and complete the wager.”
Jungkook huffs. This feels like a drug deal. “Specifications,” he coughs out.
“If you actually find yourself in a committed, loving, uplifting, and completely real relationship with someone that you are mutually attracted to for longer than three months, with at least three Instagram posts of them on your page, I will give you money,” Taehyung says. This immediately crosses out Jungkook’s plan to coerce his favorite music production major (and other best friend), Min Yoongi, into helping him.
Jungkook narrows his eyes. “How much money?”
Taehyung ponders the question for a moment, checking his wallet one more time just to make sure the same amount that was in there two minutes ago is still there now. “I’ll be generous,” he says with a shrug. “Four hundred.”
Jungkook’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. Sure, he’s well aware that his best friend is one-hundred percent loaded, but four hundred dollars could finance his textbooks for the next two semesters, probably. It could buy him a new computer program and matching equipment for his average mixtape-making skills. He could send it home to his parents and they could go on a wholesale store shopping spree. They could buy him all the granola bars and multigrain crackers he could ever dream of.
“Are you serious?” Jungkook asks, gobsmacked.
Taehyung nods nonchalantly. “Yeah, why not? If you didn’t use the money, then I’d just buy some dumbass shit like more energy drinks. I’d say it’s a pretty good use of my cash.”
Jimin’s looking at Jungkook like he’d be a fool not to accept the deal. Jungkook wonders what the harm is. He succeeds, and not only does he get four hundred dollars, he also gets to be in a genuinely enjoyable relationship with someone he actually cares about. He’s in college, too, which means that it’s the perfect time to make some possibly-regrettable and extremely stupid decisions. And maybe, for once in his life, Taehyung’s right. Maybe having an Instagram feed with a different girl in each picture gives off fuckboy-let’s hook up and then I’ll never speak to you ever again vibes. Maybe he should really rethink his Instagram aesthetic.
“Choose quickly, Jungkookie, or I might come to my senses and go buy one hundred Chicken McNuggets with the money instead,” Taehyung advises.
Taehyung’s hand makes to put the two hundred dollars clenched between his fingers back in his wallet, and that’s when Jungkook impulsively shouts, “Yes! I’ll do it. Fine. Whatever.”
Taehyung cackles like the Wicked Witch of the West. Jungkook wonders if there’s a downside to this.
But to his clouded, 1AM mind, surrounded by friends that make him lose even more brain cells, it seems like the perfect decision.
“You do realize that Taehyung is basically paying you to court someone, right?” Yoongi asks over coffee the next day. It’s four in the afternoon, Jungkook’s finished with classes, Yoongi hasn’t started his homework, the both of them have ordered the most caffeinated drinks possible.
“So?” Jungkook asks as he takes another sip, shivers as he feels it run through his blood.
“So, any person you actually try and date for the next three months will find out about the deal one way or another and then feel used, and you’ll feel shitty. If you do somehow manage to date someone for the next three months successfully, they’ll find out about the money and dump your dumb ass,” Yoongi explains callously. He downs half of his coffee in a single go.
Jungkook grins. “I’m really loving the confidence that all of my friends have in me when it comes to maintaining long-term relationships. It makes me feel so great.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You know that I’m right, Jungkook. You can’t just accept this deal and expect the person you end up dating, if you even end up dating someone, not to find out. That’s unrealistic and basically grounds for a terrible breakup rom-com.”
“I already told him that I’d do it. I want the money because I am a broke college student. It seemed like a no-brainer at the time,” Jungkook says, exasperated. He sighs into his coffee and the foam wobbles. “What am I supposed to do? Tell Taehyung that the deal’s off and let him make fun of me for the rest of recorded human history?” Jungkook whines.
“I don’t think he’ll do that.”
He definitely will. Taehyung’s gravestone will say Don’t Forget to Find Jeon Jungkook’s Grave and Laugh At Him For Me. Jungkook will spend the rest of eternity buried six feet under with random strangers laughing at him until the sun absorbs the Earth and wipes out life on the planet entirely.
“Yes he will,” says Jungkook, pouting. “What other option do I have?”
A chair screeches on the wooden floor next to him and Yoongi and suddenly, someone speaks.
“Sorry, I wasn’t eavesdropping even though I definitely was, and I couldn’t help but notice that you seem to be in some sort of monetary predicament,” you say, looking at Jungkook with wide eyes. You look familiar, but Jungkook can’t place where from. Maybe one of his classes?
“Can I help you?” Jungkook asks, taken aback by your sudden brazenness. The last time Jungkook came face to face with someone so shameless was the first time he met Seokjin while at a house party in Namjoon’s apartment. Seokjin walked through the front doors blasting Who Let the Dogs Out from his iPhone and immediately declared himself king of the household before Namjoon could even say hello.
You shrug, shoulders nonchalant and unbothered. “I think I’m the one who should be asking you that question.”
Jungkook’s flabbergasted. He turns to Yoongi, who, like he does with most things that don’t directly involve him, seems to have already assumed a hands-off position. Like it’s not his problem that his best friend has just been approached by a random stranger in a coffeeshop who looks to be promising a solution to his problems. Like the Shadow Man from Disney’s Princess and the Frog. Like a mafia boss.
With a non-comforting pat on Jungkook’s back, Yoongi stands up, finishes the rest of his coffee in a single gulp, and says, “Looks like this one’s on you, ‘Kook.” He doesn’t say anything else and, five seconds later, he’s gone.
“Jungkook, right?” You ask the moment Yoongi’s out the door. You’ve fully shifted your chair to face Jungkook, and Jungkook doesn’t know where to look when your eyes are staring right at him.
“How do you know my na—”
“I’m Y/N. I hope you don’t mind me barging in on your conversation like this,” you say, not at all deterred by Jungkook’s very obvious bewilderment.
“Um—”
“See, I was just drinking my hot chocolate even though it’s still warm outside, and I overheard that you were in quite the dilemma,” you say. Even though you technically aren’t invading any of his actual personal space—you’re not touching the table, accidentally brushing your foot against his leg, leaning in aggressively close—Jungkook feels like you couldn’t be any nearer to him. Like all this overwhelming forwardness and confidence is rendering him speechless and keenly cognizant of his personal bubble. “And I’m here to propose a solution.”
“Do you go here?” Jungkook somehow manages to get out.
“Me? Yeah, I’m majoring in communications,” you tell him casually. Jungkook wonders why he’s not surprised to hear that.
“Okay…” Jungkook still doesn’t know what to say.
“In any case, in the past five minutes I’ve spent listening to you talk about how your friends said they’d pay you if you managed to date someone for more than three months, I’ve devised a foolproof solution that benefits all parties involved,” you tell him like you’re trying to get him to sign onto a business deal. Jungkook swears that there must be fine print somewhere. He just can’t tell where.
Jungkook raises his eyebrows. He’s interested. “Which is…?”
“Date me.”
If Jungkook’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when Taehyung pulled out that fat stack of cash in the group study room, they must jump right out and roll onto the wooden floor at this.
“I’m sorry, w-what?” Jungkook sputters, like he hadn’t heard you correctly even though he definitely had. He was expecting something maybe more in the realm of counselor, like tell your friends you don’t want to do the deal, if they’re really your friends they’ll honor your wishes, or maybe even on the opposite side of the spectrum, like if you run away to Norway now and change your identity they’ll never be able to find you, here I know a guy. Not date me.
Certainly not Date Me.
“Date me,” you repeat. It’s the simplest phrase. And yet, it befuddles Jungkook more than his theoretical computer science class does. “Maybe I should rephrase it. Fake date me. How’s that sound?”
Jungkook lets out something between a cough, a chuckle, and the noise a dying Canadian goose would make.
“Basically, what I’m thinking, what my vision is, is that you and I agree to fake date for two weeks past the designated period—in your case, three months. This prevents your friends from thinking that the whole relationship was all for show and so you can preserve your dignity. I, as your honorable and true girlfriend, will do any and all things necessary to make your friends believe that you are genuinely committed to our relationship. Then, your friends pay you after the three months is up, and because it takes two to tango, I get half. Sound good?” You propose. You seem to have thought of everything.
The first problem is that Jungkook doesn’t know how he’s going to maintain the facade of a real relationship with someone he 1) barely knows and 2) barely knows. The reason he doesn’t commit to anything isn’t because he’s afraid of commitment (okay, maybe he is) but because all of the dates he ever goes on are Tinder dates or hookups-post-one-night-stand. He doesn’t date people he’s already familiar with, and then it never goes further. Even if he didn’t meet you on Tinder or sleep with you after a shitty frat party, he doesn’t see how this scenario is much different.
The second problem is that, true to his college student nature, Jungkook is starved for cash. When Taehyung promised him four hundred dollars, he immediately began thinking of ways to spend each and every cent. But the prospect of him losing half of that money to someone he barely knows has him more than hesitant. How will his parents go on their wholesale store shopping spree without four hundred in cash to blow? If Jungkook wants those four hundred dollars so badly, why not put in the effort?
The third problem is that Jungkook is a phenomenally terrible actor. When he was in grade school and everybody had to participate in the class play on why smoking is bad for you, Jungkook’s role was Kid In The Background Sitting On A Chair Reading A Book. He was on stage for a total of two minutes as the main character was peer pressured into smoking, and he never set foot on it again.
So, if Jungkook were to arrange this into a five-paragraph essay with Times New Roman size twelve font, he’d have a pretty good argument for why your proposal is probably not a good idea.
But then, Jungkook is reminded of a few key things that keep him from declining right off the bat.
First, he’s already said yes. Which means that, if he wants those four hundred dollars, he’s going to have to go through with Taehyung’s deal.
Second, going through with Taehyung’s deal and keeping the four hundred dollars all to himself will require lots of effort on his part. He will have to keep going on dates until he finds someone he clicks with, and then he will have to keep going on dates with that specific person for the next three months and develop a meaningful relationship.
Third, Yoongi’s right, as he usually is. Even if Jungkook establishes a relationship, the deal will always be in the back of his mind, and the truth will eventually come out. This may lead to Jungkook’s first genuine heartbreak—if he’s committed to the relationship—and Jungkook isn’t mentally prepared for that either.
And somehow, as Jungkook makes it through the labyrinth that is his mind, he comes to the overarching conclusion that maybe accepting your proposal isn’t such a bad idea after all. If you already know about the money, you’re willing to help him dupe his friends, and you don’t really care about splitting up in three and a half months, then the only thing that Jungkook is losing is two hundred dollars. And while that may be a lot, he’ll still have two hundred of his own to console him.
Despite the lack of communication between the two of you, surrounded by the white noise of the ambient coffee shop, you don’t appear at all deterred by Jungkook’s radio silence. You’ve put the deal down on the table and are waiting for Jungkook to either pick it up or push it off.
“You get half?” He asks, just for clarification. It’s difficult to miss the fact that you are, essentially, halving the benefits he’s reaping from accepting Taehyung’s deal.
You nod. “Yup. But in return, any dates we go on I will pay for my share, so you don’t have to worry about that. I will also be a loving and doting girlfriend you gets you coffee, croissants, and Dunkin’ whenever you ask, and even sometimes when you don’t. So I think that it evens out.”
“You’re sure about this?” Jungkook asks.
You laugh, cracking a smile that shows off your teeth and fills out your cheeks. Jungkook looks right at you, and maybe he doesn’t feel anything right now, but he thinks he might be able to find a friend in this along the way. “I’m the one who suggested it, aren’t I?”
Jungkook sits resolutely. He just prays that neither Taehyung nor Jimin ever find out about this. If they do, he really will have to escape to Norway and change his identity.
“Okay,” Jungkook says, his eyes staring firmly into yours. “I’m in.”
Seeing as the both of you are college students with the most updated technology at your fingertips, you pull out your laptop and situate it between the both of you. You’ve shifted tables so now that you can face your future fake-boyfriend, and Jungkook feels more and more like he’s signing up for some shady website in the hope that it’ll give him the answers to his problem set. Immediately, you share a Google Doc with him.
“What should we call it?” You ask, cursor hovering over the Untitled document.
“The contract?” Jungkook suggests weakly. He was never good at titles.
“The Coffee Shop Contract,” you add on, typing it dutifully into the bar. “Sounds official.”
“It’s official because there’s money involved,” Jungkook points out. You wouldn’t be writing up this formal contract if you weren’t reaping any financial benefits so long as you both honor it.
“Maybe it’s just because we don’t know each other yet, but you seem like the type of guy to swindle me out of promised cash,” you observe, albeit somewhat inaccurately.
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I’m untrustworthy?” Jungkook asks, only a little offended.
You purse your lips into a thin smile. “My friends make fun of you because you’ve got a different girl in every single one of your Instagram posts. Can you blame me?”
Jungkook tosses his head back, exasperated. “It’s not that weird!” He exclaims.
“It’s kinda weird.”
You type up a brief outline of the requirements. It looks like this:
The Coffee Shop Contract
Signatories Jungkook and Y/N.
This contract entails a fake relationship between the signatories of Jungkook and Y/N.
This fake relationship shall last no less than three months and one week and no longer than three months and two weeks.
Both parties involved shall do any and all things possible to ensure that this fake relationship appears as realistic as possible.
Both parties will pay for their share of any and all outings made together.
Three Instagram posts on Jungkook’s account must be made throughout the duration of the relationship.
Should this fake relationship be successful, Jungkook shall give half of his payment to Y/N as compensation for her efforts.
No falling in love with each other.
No one can know.
Signatures: _______________________ and __________________________
“What was the reason you needed to type up a whole contract? I thought we had already discussed all of this,” Jungkook asks when you’re finished, eyeing the document on the screen. It looks much too official for his liking. Jungkook, if he could, would probably write his essays on a series of Post-It Notes—specifically the accordion-style ones, because those bring more joy into Jungkook’s life than he cares to admit.
“This solidifies it,” you inform him sternly, fingertips moving quickly across your keyboard. “So that way if either of us breaks the rules, the deal’s off.”
Jungkook frowns slightly, tilting his head. “What if we both break the rules?”
“Well then,” you tell him firmly, resolutely, putting your hand on top of his. Jungkook jumps slightly at the touch, but your palm is warm and it wraps around his with determination. “I suppose that we go down together, or we don’t go down at all.”
When Jungkook’s alarm goes off at ten o’clock that Sunday, the first person to say anything is Taehyung. He comes stumbling out of his bedroom in their two-bed one-bath off-campus apartment, hair disheveled and still wrapped up in the hoodie he’s been wearing for the past forty-eight hours.
“Jungkook?” He asks hazily, voice muffled and thick from sleep and the retainers still in his mouth. “What are you doing up?”
Jungkook looks up from where he was mid-washing his mouth out post-teeth brush, and stares at Taehyung’s reflection in the mirror. The fluorescent light of their bathroom illuminates his undereye bags and the hickey he seems to have acquired in the past 12 hours extremely well.
“Huh?” He asks, mouth only slightly full.
“What are you doing up? Didn’t you get back at like, four last night?” Taehyung asks. He must faintly recall the door slamming shut as Jungkook stumbled back, the alcohol from whatever parties he ended up slowly making its way out of his system. Jungkook does not over-drink… but he also doesn’t under-drink. He was with Jimin the whole time, though, who was flat out hammered, and when Jungkook wrapped an arm around his waist and insisted he drop him back off at his apartment across the street from his and Taehyung’s, Jimin told Jungkook that he was very nice and attractive but that he had a boyfriend.
Jungkook wonders if Jimin’s going to wake up before three this afternoon.
“Yeah,” Jungkook says. He splashes his face for good measure before slapping on some of the lotion they have on the edge of the sink that he always mistakes for soap. His mother told him that furiously smacking skincare into your face wakes you up and depuffs your eyes. So he does it. “I’m meeting someone for brunch.”
Taehyung slaps himself in the face.
“Don’t tell me Jeon Jungkook is awake at ten in the morning to meet someone for brunch,” Taehyung says, even though that’s exactly what Jungkook is telling him.
“I am,” says Jungkook.
“Who?” Taehyung demands to know, leaning against the doorframe. While his body may be falling asleep, his mind sure still runs a mile a minute.
“Uh, some girl,” Jungkook says, trying to make it sound as nonchalant as possible. Jungkook accepted Taehyung’s deal a week ago, and you had told him to only start mentioning ‘a girl’ after time had passed to keep Taehyung less suspicious. So you had texted him last night while he was four vodka shots into the night, saying that you should meet up for brunch the next day, and Jungkook, the dumbass he is, said yes without realizing the time you had suggested.
And now he is paying the price in bags.
Eye bags.
“A girl?” Taehyung asks, immediately more awake. “Did you meet her last night?”
“Uh, yeah,” Jungkook lies.
Taehyung scoffs. “Did she give you that?” He points to Jungkook’s neck.
“Yeah,” Jungkook lies again.
“Wow, what a ladies’ man, huh?” Taehyung asks, giving Jungkook a good punch in the shoulder before he pulls his hoodie right over his head, tugs on the drawstrings for the South Park effect, and trots back to bed.
Jungkook runs a hand through his hair before his eyes focus back on the hickey on his neck. He can’t remember a damn thing about who gave it to him. For all he knows, it could have been Jimin. Jimin has, for the record, mistaken Jungkook for Taehyung quite a few times when drunk, though clearly he was able to distinguish between the two of them last night. He grabs Taehyung’s concealer (which is two shades darker than his skin tone) from the cabinet behind the mirror, tries his best to hide it, and prays that you won’t make fun of him when you meet up.
“The fuck is on your neck?” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth when Jungkook appears at the corner table of the brunch place. He was late, as per usual, but only because Jimin came knocking on the door and Jungkook had to direct him to Taehyung’s room before he collapsed face-first on their couch and stayed there for the next two days.
“Uh,” Jungkook says.
“Is that a hickey? Are you attempting to conceal a hickey with concealer that is literally two shades darker than you?” You ask, squinting as you lean in.
“Uh,” Jungkook says again. He sits down, because he doesn’t know what else to do.
“I ordered us orange juice already,” you tell him. “But it seems like you had a lot of fun last night. Care to tell me anything about it?”
Jungkook picks up the menu to keep his hands busy and give himself an excuse not to meet your eyes. The french toast looks good, and is less expensive than the avocado toast for some strange reason. Classic brunch problems. “I mean, it’s not really that important—”
“Hey,” you say, leaning over and snapping your fingers in front of his face to get his attention. “I’m your fake girlfriend now. I’m obligated to be interested in what activities you get up to when I’m not with you. So, what did you do last night?”
Jungkook figures that since he walked in here five minutes late with mismatched concealer poorly hiding a hickey, you have a right to know what the hell happened last night. If he even remembers what happened last night.
“I went out around ten with my roommate’s boyfriend,” Jungkook begins, because that part he knows happened.
“Wait, your roommate’s boyfriend? Why not your roommate, too?” You interrupt, though it’s a valid question.
“Well, Taehyung’s not really a partier. I mean, he met his boyfriend, Jimin, at a party, but he doesn’t really like going out and getting drunk that much, and he’s also a damn lightweight so you really can’t take him anywhere unless you want hin clinging to your side the whole night,” Jungkook explains.
“How did they meet?” You ask, not out of obligation but because you’re genuinely interested. Which is nice, Jungkook realizes, that you actually want to keep listening to him talk instead of disregarding him in favor of the menu. Jungkook can’t really think of many dates where both he and the person he was with weren’t asking questions just for the sake of asking questions. But you seem to have a different approach. “If he’s not a partier.”
“That’s actually a funny story,” Jungkook begins, already laughing. “Taehyung hates parties but that night he was determined to go to one because this cute boy he saw on Tinder was going to be there. And so he dragged me out to this party at eleven at night to try and find this boy, but then gets roped into a game of beer pong with said boy, so, mission accomplished. Except, because Taehyung’s a lightweight and a terrible shot, he misses entirely and bonks the shorter kid next to the cute boy on the head.”
“Let me guess,” you finish. “That was Jimin?”
Jungkook nods. “Only Taehyung would end up falling in love with the best friend of the boy he thirsted over on Tinder.”
“Can I ask who the cute boy is?” You raise your eyebrows.
“Oh, that’s Hoseok. We’re actually all really good friends now,” Jungkook says, because that’s just how the cookie crumbles. “His boyfriend is a really close friend of mine.”
“Wait, are you talking about Jung Hoseok?” You ask, eyes wide. Jungkook nods. “My friend’s in the dance group he leads. He’s dating this guy named Yoongi, right? She says they’re super cute together, and that he drops into practice all the time to say hello, and Hoseok makes him dance with them.”
Jungkook nearly bursts into laughter in the middle of this crowded restaurant at the image of Yoongi trying to hip-hop choreography that Hoseok creates. He loves Yoongi, but he’s got the coordination of a baby giraffe and two left feet. Which is exactly why he sticks to music production, the less physical of two musical evils. “Yeah, he was with me in the coffee place when we first started talking.”
“That was him? No way,” you say, shocked.
Jungkook has to say that he’s equally as surprised. You seemed familiar, but Jungkook assumed that it was because you had the same class or something. What he wasn’t expecting was this labyrinth of mutual acquaintanceships that draws a path between you and him.
“I guess we’re closer than you think,” Jungkook says with a shrug. The waiter comes over to ask for their orders, and Jungkook, because he’s reckless and you’re grinning at him with a smile wider than the sun, orders the avocado toast.
You nod, handing your menu to the waiter before he whizzes off. “Isn’t it funny how that works?”
After the second time you go out to a restaurant—this one a relatively nice but not upscale pizza place—Taehyung wants to meet you.
It’s not so much wants.
It’s more like demands.
“Two dates, Jungkook!” Taehyung screeches at the same time the first kernel in their microwave popcorn bag pops, making Jungkook wince. “You’ve been on two entirely separate dates with the same person, and I haven’t met them yet!”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” Jungkook says awkwardly, avoiding Taehyung’s gaze so as not to watch him go bug-eyed right in front of Jungkook’s nonexistent salad as he slowly waits for their microwave to implode and burn their entire apartment complex down. “it’s just two dates.”
“Which is two more than you normally go on,” Taehyung insists, holding up two fingers just in case Jungkook was unsure as to what number he’s been saying repeatedly as the popcorn pops. “Perspective, Jungkook! This is a big deal for you!”
“You act like I’ve never been on a date before when I, in fact, have,” Jungkook deadpans with a frown. He tries not to flinch when the popcorn surprises him with the last few kernels.
“Yeah,” Taehyung says like a white girl in a Netflix original movie, opening up their shoddy microwave to a steaming (and slightly overcooked) bag of dollar store popcorn. “But when was the last time you went on two dates with the same person?”
Jungkook opens his mouth to respond when he realizes he can’t give an answer without incriminating himself. It’s definitely been a while.
Taehyung picks up on the nanosecond of silence and Jungkook’s fish gape immediately, cackling as he tears open the popcorn and a quarter of the pieces go flying across their tiny counter island, still sticky in some places where Taehyung forgot to wipe up the juice from the watermelon he was cutting (sans cutting board) last night at two in the morning.
“Perspective! Matters!” Taehyung says, interjecting each word with a piece of popcorn in his mouth. Jungkook reaches over to take some for himself, just happy knowing that the microwave hasn’t caused his tragic demise and he can put off death-by-microwave for another day.
“You’re an Economics and Fine Arts double major, perspective is all you care about,” Jungkook says, cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk preparing for winter. “I think you’re being dramatic.”
“I think that two dates is a record,” Taehyung tells him pointedly.
“How noncommittal do you think I am?” Jungkook asks, shocked. He’s been in committed, long-term relationships. In high school. And nowadays in college, the definition of long-term has become so distant from what it used to be that three weeks is pretty much long-term at this point.
“Very,” Taehyung says. He tilts the popcorn bag into his mouth and finishes it, and Jungkook is both horrified and impressed, because the bag was still a quarter-full when Taehyung decided it would be a good time to chug carbohydrates covered in butter. “I gotta meet them, Jungkook. I’m your best friend. I have to!”
Jungkook narrows his eyes. “You do not have to meet her. In fact, you shouldn’t even be involved in my existent or nonexistent dating life at all. You have a boyfriend.”
“Excuse me, I am still your best friend despite already having met the man I’m going to marry and adopt three dogs and a giant iguana with, and therefore I’m allowed to want to meet her. We should do something fun,” Taehyung says, before his eyes light up in the same way they did before Taehyung once suggested they take an extremely pricey Uber out into the suburbs just so they could go to the biggest wholesale store in the area and buy as many sixty-brownie packs as possible.
The same way they did before Taehyung thought it was a good idea to pay Jungkook money to get himself into a committed relationship, and the same way they did when Jungkook agreed.
“Oh my God, we should go play laser tag! That’s so much fun!” Taehyung begins to jump up and down in the middle of their apartment like an eight-year-old boy at an amusement park for his birthday, and Jungkook has reason to be worried he’ll fall right through the floorboards and into the apartment below.
Jungkook couldn’t think of a worse group outing for you to meet his friends. While Taehyung definitely sucks at laser tag (Jungkook always wins), a furiously competitive, glow-in-the-dark, shriek-inducing, friendship-ending activity may very well be the last thing Jungkook wants to do with you while you meet his friends. He wants you to like them. He wants them to like you. Laser tag doesn’t promise either of those things. Laser tag, in fact, actively promotes immediate dislike.
“Absolutely not. There’s no way I’m introducing you to her in a laser tag setting,” Jungkook immediately rejects Taehyung’s suggestion. Taehyung frowns, probably trying to think of some other equally as infuriating activity for the four of you to do together. Jungkook racks his brain, trying to think of something else that appeases Taehyung’s desire for physical competition while also minimizing the potential for disaster (which is very high whenever Taehyung is involved). “How about… mini golf?”
Taehyung breaks out into a devilish grin, and Jungkook wonders if mini-golf was an even worse suggestion.
“Mini-golf?” You ask as you arrive at the mini-golf place, a little outside location far away from the hubbub of the city but close enough to not require an overpriced Uber.
“It was this or laser tag,” Jungkook says, whipping his head around to see if Taehyung and Jimin have arrived yet. He can’t seem to see Taehyung’s faded teal hair nor Jimin’s pink, which would otherwise be easy to spot because whenever they walk anywhere, Gen Z’ers stop them on the street to remind them that they look like Cosmo and Wanda from The Fairly OddParents.
“Laser tag!” You exclaim, punching Jungkook in the shoulder for emphasis. “That would have been such a good idea! Mini-golf is so overdone, I would have loved to go to laser tag.”
Jungkook pouts. He can’t believe he already royally fucked up the first meeting between his fake girlfriend and his best friend (and his best friend’s equally-as-chaotic just not-as-loud boyfriend) because you and Taehyung wanted to play laser tag and Jungkook was the dumbass who thought that mini-golf would be a better idea. Maybe Jungkook should just try to get knocked in the head with a mini-golf ball going at one hundred miles an hour like it did in Avril Lavigne’s VMA-deserving music video Girlfriend, fall on the ground and roll into a Porta Potty, and then wake up with no recollection of any of the day’s events.
You notice Jungkook’s pout immediately as you hand over eight dollars so he isn’t paying for the both of you, and pat him on the back. “But I still like mini-golf. It could be worse. We could be at a Kidz Bop concert right now.”
Jungkook supposes that there’s always a silver lining.
The silver lining vanishes the moment he hears a preteen boy who’s on hole eight shout, “Oh my God, it’s Cosmo and Wanda!”
“That would be the other half of our party,” Jungkook says with a grimace, staring distantly into the void as Taehyung and Jimin clamber onto the course. Taehyung carelessly gives the poor teenager in the booth a twenty, does not take his change, and picks up a golf club that is nowhere near the right size for his nearly-six-feet-tall figure. Maybe if Jungkook makes eye contact with the supermassive black hole that Taehyung is convinced actually exists at the center of the Milky Way galaxy, he’ll just get sucked right in and lose all the matter in his body so he doesn’t have to deal with this shit for the next two hours.
“I’m Taehyung,” Taehyung introduces himself aggressively, holding out an enormous hand for you to shake. You do so hesitantly but firmly, trying not to break eye contact with Taehyung, a task you will soon find to be quite difficult, as Taehyung can keep his eyes open for over five minutes straight. “And unfortunately, my charming personality and extreme good looks have already attracted a mate. This is my soon-to-be husband, Jimin.”
Jimin waves respectfully, pink hair bouncing.
“They’re not engaged,” Jungkook says, feeling the need to elaborate because Jungkook’s known Taehyung since before freshman year of college, and sometimes even he can’t tell when he’s kidding.
“Real shame, but I actually have my eye on the only natural-hair-colored college-aged super buff guy in the group,” you say, nudging Jungkook’s side with a wink. Jungkook thinks he might vomit at your description of him.
“Kook’s a real looker, but he flakes on us all the time. I’m impressed you even managed to get him to come with us,” Taehyung jokes, but the comment nonetheless makes Jungkook’s mouth open in indignation.
“I’m the only mutuality between all of us,” he re-emphasizes, “I’m the one who organized the whole thing!”
Taehyung leans in to whisper into your ear, but Taehyung’s whisper is normal people’s regular outside voice, so Jungkook can hear every word. “Truthfully, I wanted to go play laser tag.”
You nod enthusiastically. “So did I! Jungkook just mentioned it and I wish we had gone there instead. We’ll have to go sometime. Just a warning: I’ll crush you.”
“I accept your challenge,” Taehyung says with a firm nod.
Jungkook coughs loud enough to interrupt the both of you and even attract the attention of the next family who’s come up to pay. He feels bad for them—they’re going to be stuck behind the four of you for the rest of this hellhole of a mini-golf game.
“Are we here to play some mini-golf, or what?” Jungkook asks, tiny golf pencil and paper stuffed into his back pocket to record scores, because Jungkook came here to win, and winning is what he will do.
Jungkook does not win.
He actually loses by one point. A singular value. A sole divisor.
He’s pissed, but also impressed.
Taehyung comes in dead last, as he normally does even when he’s playing mini-golf with a club that’s actually the right size, but the gap between him and Jimin’s third place is significantly larger considering his club is meant for someone who’s about a foot shorter than he is. Even so, he seems to give no shits whatsoever about his abysmal performance, and is instead spending most of his time post-mini-golf game high-fiving the shit out of you.
“You beat him! I can’t believe it! I don’t think Jungkook’s ever lost a game of anything in his entire life!” Taehyung exclaims, making Jungkook wince. It was down to the wire the entire game with you and Jungkook neck-and-neck, Jimin a fair few points behind the both of you, and Taehyung hardly in the same ballpark. And on the last hole, Jungkook overshot the curve and his ball jumped the hole while yours sailed in, leaving him to wallow in his second-place pity.
“Just doing my job,” you say with a flip of the nonexistent hair next to your left shoulder. Your hair is nowhere near your hand whatsoever. “He was the one who suggested mini-golf before he knew what a pro I was.”
“It was one point,” Jungkook reminds you, fuming. “If my golf ball hadn’t skipped the hole we’d be tied,” he says, consoling himself more than anyone else.
“But it did, and now you owe me dinner because you lost and I won,” you tease as you walk out of the mini-golf place, sipping on overpriced sodas from the generic mini-golf diner.
“That was not part of the deal whatsoever,” Jungkook says with a frown. “I never agreed to that. We never said anything about dinner. What the fuck.”
You laugh, tilting your head back as you chuckle, Sprite fizzing in your hand. Taehyung insisted nobody get straws, and now you all have disposable open (and full) cups of soda in your hands as you make the treacherous journey back to your campus. “Fine. How about we go out to get some bubble tea after this?”
Jungkook likes the sound of that. He’s been craving some taro tea recently.
“Deal,” he says with a nod, and the two of you shake hands to seal it.
Jungkook finds that he’s actually really looking forward to getting bubble tea with you post-mini-golf game. He’s spent so much time with you and the rest of his friends (however many there are) that you haven’t gone out alone, just the two of you, in a while. Jungkook misses that.
You get along so well together.
Jimin grabs your attention with a question about Hoseok, since the two of you happen to be connected through his dance group, giving Taehyung just enough time to swoop in and wrap an arm around Jungkook’s shoulder, Dr. Pepper spilling onto the asphalt beneath them.
“Damn, she really knows how to keep up with you,” Taehyung says, quieter than he’s ever spoken before.
“Are you implying that I’m difficult to keep up with?” Jungkook immediately retorts.
Taehyung rolls his eyes. ���No, you dumbass. I’m saying that you’ve never been on a date with someone who meshes so well with your own personality. No wonder you guys have been on two dates.”
“I can’t believe you think I’m this one-date-wonder kind of guy.”
“You guys go really well with each other,” Taehyung says, and that sort of out-of-the-blue, genuinely complimentary statement makes Jungkook narrow his eyes in suspicion. “Seriously, I’m not just saying that. I think you guys make a cute couple.”
Jimin says something funny and you laugh again, giggles breaking out into the air as you slowly make your way towards campus. You’re not looking at Jungkook, but Jungkook is looking at you, and he thinks that maybe even if this is all just one big ploy, he might still get a really, really wonderful friend out of this.
Taehyung pinches Jungkook’s cheek before turning his chin to face you. “I think that she’s someone you might want to hold onto.”
For once in his life, Jungkook has to agree.
Jungkook is running late.
This is no rare occurrence by any means, as Jungkook frequently shows up five minutes late to class with nothing but his half-charged laptop and an eraser-less mechanical pencil, which leaves fantastic impressions on both his classmates and his professors.
But Jungkook hit snooze on his phone four times, and now he’s got ten minutes to get his shit together and get to his Metropolitan Nature class before he gets chewed out by his professor for being late three times already this month.
He makes a few quick sacrifices. First, he’s not getting changed out of his pajamas, so this is what his Metropolitan Nature professor is getting, whether she likes it or not. Second, he doesn’t have time to use the bathroom so he’s just going to wipe his face with one of Taehyung’s makeup-removing wipes and pee after class. Third, there is no way in hell he’s making himself any sort of breakfast, not even grabbing a granola bar or anything, so he’ll just suffer until later, when he isn’t a debilitating mess of a human being and has time to stuff an apple into his mouth.
And then, as he’s scrambling to get his backpack and make it to class on time (five minutes to go!), there’s a knock on his door.
Jungkook almost doesn’t answer. Instead, he grabs the nearest object to him—which happens to be their television remote—and holds it out in front of him like a weapon, waiting for the burglar on the other side to bust the door down, realize that Jungkook and Taehyung’s shared apartment has absolutely nothing valuable inside of it, and turn around to rob someone else.
There’s another knock on his door. Jungkook decides that it’s probably not a burglar, but he keeps the remote in his hand just in case and opens the door.
On the other side is, much to his surprise, you, with a steaming cup of what he assumes is coffee and a little paper bag in your hand.
“Oh, geez, what’s up?” Jungkook says, quickly trying to fix the mop on his head known as hair, to little avail.
“Why are you holding the TV remote?” You ask instead of greeting him back like a normal person.
“Oh, uh, just making sure you aren’t a robber or murderer or anything,” Jungkook says. There’s too long of an awkward silence that falls between the two of you, and in that time frame, Jungkook tosses the TV remote behind him and listens as it lands with a thud on the rug by the couch.
“O…kay…,” you say nervously. “I got you breakfast.”
Jungkook’s mouth drops open and he’s too sleep-deprived to shut it again. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I told you that I would,” you remind him. “It’s a croissant and hot chocolate, because I wasn’t sure what your coffee order was. Here.” You don’t give him the chance to respond, instead shoving the cup and paper bag into his hands very ungracefully.
“Oh, wow, I—I don’t know what to say,” Jungkook says, very obviously floored at your random generosity. He knows that this was what you discussed but he didn’t realize that it would actually be put into practice.
“A simple ‘thank you’ would probably suffice!” Taehyung calls from his bedroom, clearly having overheard your entire conversation thus far.
“Fuck off!” Jungkook shouts back, and he hears Taehyung cackle.
You raise your eyebrows, leaning forward slightly.
“Oh, yeah, thank you,” Jungkook says, still flabbergasted. “Seriously, I—I really can’t thank you enough. This was super nice of you.” God, who still uses the word super? Jungkook has to go before he embarrasses himself further.
“No problem,” you tell him with a shrug. “Just doing the girlfriend thing.” It’s a good thing Taehyung’s in the other room, because he can’t see you wink.
“I really appreciate it, Y/N. This was so thoughtful of you.” Jungkook doesn’t know how else to express his immense gratitude for this simple act, mostly because no one’s ever spontaneously brought him food at such an opportune time before. He missed you, is what it is. He didn’t realize it until you showed up at his door, and now he’s speechless and looks like an absolute fool, all because he missed you.
Weird.
“It was no big deal, really,” you tell him. “You headed to class? Let’s walk together.”
Jungkook’s already late but he decides that he would much rather walk than sprint, because that means he gets to savor the taste of blazing hot chocolate and a warm croissant, all while spending more time with you.
When Jungkook was thirteen, a brand new go-kart arena opened up in their town. It had flashing neon lights and a giant sign and an arcade with actual prizes to be won in exchange for tickets. There was no sight more glorious to Jungkook’s freshly-teenaged self.
His best friend at the time invited him out the day after it opened, and Jungkook was so excited that he said yes before thinking about anything else. He had never been go-karting. He couldn’t remember the last time he went to an arcade. He wanted to win ten thousand tickets to get a remote-control car.
But he had no money because he realized that he was only getting paid for mowing his neighbor’s lawns at the end of the week, which meant that he wouldn’t be able to pay for anything.
In desperation, Jungkook begged his older brother for some cash, promising that he would pay him back as soon as possible. Jeonghyun agreed (albeit begrudgingly) and Jungkook went on his merry way, having a grand old time at the brand new go-kart place with an arcade and winning one thousand tickets, which was enough to get him five of his favorite candy bars.
Jungkook fully intended on giving some of them to his older brother as a thank you, but he ended up eating all of them on the way home, and then Jeonghyun doubled the amount that Jungkook owed him, and it took Jungkook a month to repay him.
Jungkook discovered then that owing people is the worst feeling in the entire world, a sentiment he’s maintained ever since. It makes him an extremely reliable person whenever he borrows anything, which is already rare to begin with.
Jungkook owes you more than just some hot chocolate and a croissant. You’ve saved his ass on numerous occasions, getting along well with Taehyung and Jimin and suggesting that you’re interested in him, striking up a deal that will save him from the wrath of Taehyung, giving him breakfast (free of charge!) on a day where he definitely wasn’t planning on eating anything. He feels like hot chocolate and a croissant just doesn’t cut it.
In the end, Jungkook knocks on your door at seven in the evening with a paper bag filled with various Chinese takeout dishes. He never knows what to get whenever he gets Chinese food, so he gets a little bit of everything and, inevitably, eats all of it. He’s hoping that this is sufficient enough repayment, because you certainly deserve it.
You open the door drowsily, mumbling something that sounds like “Who is it?” under your breath, when you see Jungkook and your eyes light up.
“I brought Chinese food,” Jungkook supplies helpfully, holding up the bag as if the scent that’s wafting through the air isn’t proof enough.
Your mouth drops open, just like his did. “Oh my God, you’re my hero. I was just about to make myself some shitty instant ramen for dinner, but this is so much better.”
“Just returning the favor, I guess,” Jungkook says with a shrug. “It was really nice of you to drop by this morning.”
“It was really nice of you to bring Chinese food tonight,” you respond as Jungkook hands over the paper bag. You let it sit on your palms, too heavy to be held by the top of it. “You just saved me from my fourth instant ramen dinner of the week.”
Jungkook laughs. He and Taehyung were like that during their freshman year, boiling water in their kettle at four in the morning to burn the insides of their mouths out with the fire noodles. Fond memories. You grin at him, Chinese takeout resting securely in your palms, and gaze at each other for a few more seconds before Jungkook coughs to end the silence.
“Aren’t you coming inside?” You ask, stepping away from the door to usher him in.
“Oh, no, the takeout was just a thank you for this morning,” Jungkook says, shaking his head and his hand as he takes a step away from the door. His stomach grumbles.
Exposed.
“Don’t think I can’t hear the whale coming from your belly,” you say, eyes narrowing as you point at his torso. “Come on, you paid for this thing, you might as well get your fair share. There’s no way I’ll be able to eat all of this myself.”
“No, it’s alright, seriously—” His stomach growls at him, like it’s personally offended that Jungkook’s rejecting the Chinese food.
You frown at him, raising a single, unimpressed eyebrow. “Come on, you dumbass. It’s getting cold.”
Jungkook relents, though it probably wouldn’t have taken much more to wear him down anyway, and walks inside your apartment. He slips off his sneakers and joins you as you set the food down on the coffee table in front of your couch, fabric worn and pillows sunken in. It looks delightfully comfortable.
“Sorry it’s kind of a mess in here,” you say as you grab plates from your kitchenette. “You caught me off guard—I just got out of the shower, too.”
Your apartment is cleaner than his and Taehyung’s looks on days where they actually try to tidy up. Jungkook wishes he had those capabilities, but when he’s presented with the options of cleaning up or taking a nap, he will invariably choose the latter. And the clothes you’re wearing, even if you insist that they’re your nasty lounge clothes from high school, Jungkook couldn’t care less about. You look nice.
You always look nice.
Once you’re all settled, you tear open the stapled paper bag to reveal the glory hidden inside. Jungkook gets one whiff of the scent and nearly passes out, huffing it in like an Expo marker. He was a little worried that he hadn’t gotten enough, but as you begin to take each box of rice and biodegradable container of noodles and vegetables and soup and everything in between, he realizes he had nothing to stress over.
“Oh my God, we’re gonna have so many leftovers,” you say excitedly, eyeing all of the dishes as you break apart your wooden chopsticks. Every smell imaginable fills your apartment, and it makes Jungkook’s mouth water and his stomach rumble. “This cost way more than the hot chocolate and croissant, definitely. Let me Venmo you back half.”
Jungkook shakes his head defiantly, taking the rice out of your reach as punishment. “Absolutely not. I won’t let you pay me back a single cent.”
“What? That’s not in the contract,” you say with a frown, making to pull it up on your phone just as proof.
“Who cares about the contract?” Jungkook says, snatching your phone right from your slippery fingers and placing it on the end table next to him. “I’m just doing the boyfriend thing.”
You attack the mountain of food in front of you like an all-you-can-eat buffet, taking a handful of noodles here and a couple pieces of broccoli there, a few dumplings and a bit of soy sauce, a spoonful of rice, some of the wonton soup. Your plates are filled to the brim with helpings from every single container, too excited to save any one dish for another day.
“God, this is just what I needed,” you say with a pleased sigh, tossing your head back.
“Long day?” Jungkook asks before he puts a chopstick-ful of rice in his mouth.
“The longest. I don’t know if I told you this, but my Communications 316 professor is absolutely incompetent. He has no idea what he’s talking about, confuses himself half the time, and doesn’t listen to the TA. It’s ridiculous. I might as well teach the damn class,” you say, clearly exasperated.
“Sounds awful,” Jungkook comments with a wince. If he ever had a professor like that he would just drop the class and change majors, but you don’t seem to be taking as dramatic an approach. Maybe Jungkook’s just a chronic over-reactor.
“It is. Never take Comm 316, you’ll actually want to jump into a black hole. What are you majoring in, again?”
“Physics,” Jungkook tells you over a mouthful of food.
“Wow, that’s amazing,” you say, and for once in his lifetime, Jungkook knows that there’s someone out there genuinely impressed by his choice of study. Normally he gets much more sarcastic comments, or the person he’s chatting with will just say “Flex” before changing the topic. “Do you wanna do engineering, astrophysics, or theoretical stuff?”
“Not sure yet,” he tells you, “but I’m thinking more astrophysics. I think space is really cool.”
“Astrophysics, holy shit! That’s like, the coolest thing you could probably ever major in. Meanwhile, I’m probably gonna end up being the personal assistant to some Instagram-famous fifteen-year-old.”
Jungkook refuses to let you put down your major. He’s a shitty conversationalist and an even worse public speaker. Jungkook thinks anybody who pursues an avenue like Communication could probably debate his ass into next month. “Hey, those fifteen-year-olds make bank, so I see no issue with that.”
You laugh, nodding. Jungkook leans over the table to help himself to another couple of dumplings, looking back at you as you smile at him, a single grain of rice stuck on the corner of your lips. In the warm evening light of your apartment, the soothing noises of ambulances and honking cars below you, Jungkook decides to remember this moment. Save it forever.
“Let’s take a photo,” Jungkook suggests, even though he’s already taking his phone out of his back pocket. “This is too good not to remember.”
“Right now?” You ask, caught off-guard. “I just stuffed my face with Chinese food, I’m wearing a t-shirt I got when I was in tenth grade, and we’re in my grody apartment. Are you sure?”
Jungkook’s already setting up the phone stand, stacking empty biodegradable Chinese takeout boxes to create the optimal angle. “I gotta get three Instagram posts in, remember?” He says. Because that’s obviously the only reason he wants to take a photo of the two of you, right here, right now.
Obviously.
You’re still hesitant, but Jungkook sets up the self-timer on his phone and leans back into the couch, pulling you in next to him. “Just relax,” he tells you. “You look wonderful.”
The first few pictures are classics—back straight, head up, chin down, hair fixed. Jungkook lets his phone click like a photobooth, making sure the camera gets every one of his angles. Then, the two of you start to get a bit more playful, coming up with creative (or uncreative) poses—peace signs, finger guns, winking faces. You drape your body over his legs and get a few of you looking like perpendicular line segments, a couple of you cuddling, one of you squishing his cheeks.
“Okay, last one,” Jungkook says, setting his phone up. He expects it to just be a relatively normal one, your bodies close to each other but not aggressively so, but a second before the camera shutter clicks you plant your lips on his cheek, making him smile as he gasps. His phone snaps the last photo, and it takes everything in Jungkook’s power not to immediately look at the final shot.
“What was that for?” Jungkook asks, fingers tracing over where your lips pressed against his cheek.
“Just ‘cause,” you say nonchalantly, beginning to gather up your leftovers. “I didn’t know you had a scar on your cheek.”
“I got it when I was little,” Jungkook says, finger lingering on top of it.
“It’s cute,” you tell him, standing up to pack away the leftovers in your fridge and toss out anything you completely devoured. “You’re cute sometimes, you know that, Jungkook?”
Jungkook’s speechless. He stands in the middle of your apartment like a fish out of water, eyes wide as they watch you flitter around your kitchenette. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if there is anything to say.
“This was a lot of fun,” you tell him when you bid your goodbyes, leaning against the doorframe of your apartment. “Thanks for bringing me Chinese.”
“Thanks for inviting me in to eat it with you,” Jungkook says back. “We should do this again sometime.”
“You mean like a date?” You ask, eyebrows raised. “What do you think we are, boyfriend and girlfriend?”
Jungkook laughs. “My mistake. We can have a friend dinner, if you want.”
You grin. “Hmm, I think I like boyfriend and girlfriend better, don’t you think?” You ask.
Jungkook pretends to ponder the question, like he doesn’t already know the answer. “Me too.”
The entire way home, Jungkook’s cheek tingles.
Jungkook (10:18AM): hey what r u doing rn??
You (10:18AM): i’m about to go to this volunteering thing at the animal shelter !!!
Jungkook (10:18AM): wow really?? that sounds like fun
You (10:18AM): yeah i’m really excited !!
You (10:19AM): are you an animal person jungkook
Jungkook stares at his phone distantly. He was secretly hoping you’d be free, because it’s a Saturday and he’s got nothing planned the entire day. He could do work, sure, but that’s a Sunday problem. And he just wanted to do something with you. Sue him.
Jungkook (10:19AM): yeah i love animals
Jungkook (10:19AM): except iguanas fuck those guys
You: (10:20AM): do i wanna know????
Jungkook (10:20AM): in high school my brother got an iguana and it ate my school id so i couldn’t buy lunch for the whole year
You (10:20AM): i’ll ask later
You (10:20AM): but my volunteering thing isn’t until 10:30 do you wanna come?
It’s not that Jungkook’s heart skips a beat, but it skips half of one.
Jungkook (10:21AM): are you sure?? i don’t want to be a bother
You (10:21AM): no come !!! it’ll be so much fun !!! we’re just holding an outdoor adoption fair for the day so we get to spend time with animals and encourage people to adopt them it’ll be lots of fun!!
You (10:22AM): please come i’ll be so lonely without you :(
You don’t need to say another word. In fact, you pretty much had Jungkook sold the moment you told him what you were doing. He’s already halfway out the door of his apartment by the time he texts you back.
Jungkook (10:23AM): i’m on my way!!
He gets to your apartment in record time, too excited to spend time with you to be ashamed of the desperation that’s radiating off of him. Jungkook’s not socially starved, nor does he not have other friends he could pass the time with. But he’s been friends with Taehyung, Jimin, and Yoongi ever since he set foot on campus for the first time, which means that he’s spent more time with them the past few years than he has in the past couple of months with you, because that is how math works. And Jungkook hates math, but he knows that he would much rather spend the day with you than anybody else.
He knocks on your door, only slightly out of breath, to find that you haven’t even put on your shoes yet.
“You got here quick,” you comment. “Did you run?”
“I didn’t work out this morning,” Jungkook lies like a liar. It’s by no means a good excuse, he just didn’t want you to think he ran all the way just to be with you. He wants to retain some shred of dignity, especially after losing most of it when he agreed to a deal where he would date someone for three months in exchange for money.
“Sure thing, Batman,” you say. “I’m almost ready, just give me a second.”
Jungkook waits patiently in your doorway, catching his breath and trying to wipe away the sweat that’s slowly beginning to collect on his forehead in a futile attempt to make him seem as cool and natural and not-at-all-excited as possible. It doesn’t seem to be working very well.
Whatever. Jungkook supposes that there are much worse things than having you think he just wants to spend time with you this afternoon. After all, he really does.
On the way there, you tell Jungkook all about the cat that your family had when you were growing up. His name was Pickle and he frequently brought your family stolen flowers from neighbors’ gardens, which was both extremely endearing and also rage-inducing. He also exclusively ate cat food that was the combination of meat and vegetables, which made you believe for a solid three years that all mammals were omnivores. They were, in fact, not.
“I haven’t had a cat since he died when I was thirteen, holy shit I want one so bad,” you say as you arrive at the park right by the shelter, where the adoption fair is being held. “Thanks for coming, by the way. You didn’t have to. You probably have lots of Physics work to do.”
“I wanted to,” Jungkook says instantly, refusing to let you believe otherwise. “I did. That’s why I texted you.”
“To come to the adoption fair?” You ask, waving hello to another one of the volunteers. You must be here often.
“No,” Jungkook says, faltering slightly. “To, uh, well—to hang out with you, actually.” God, he sounds like he’s twelve. Hang out? To hang out with you? The same way that preteens do because they’re too old for the word playdate? For God’s sake. You’re college students, friends (hopefully, because if not then Jungkook has completely misread this situation), and fake lovers. And Jungkook chooses the phrase hang out to describe time spent with you.
“Oh,” you say, more to yourself than to him. Your brows furrow slightly, like you’re pondering something too insignificant to say aloud. Jungkook knows that feeling. “Well, I’m glad you texted me, then.”
Jungkook’s glad, too.
The animal shelter staff, despite his unannounced arrival, are absolutely thrilled that Jungkook’s volunteered to help alongside you. They tell him that he’s got an extremely friendly and marketable face, and will be good for talking to prospective adopters because he’s, by default, extremely charming.
“I can vouch for that,” you mutter into his ear before another worker asks you to help out with some of the dogs. Jungkook stands there, your words ringing in his ears, as the instructions the shelter coordinator tells him fly right over his ear. Charming, huh?
Realistically, there are plenty of ways that Jungkook could be spending his free Saturday that would be appealing to most, if not all, college students. He could be lazing around in bed, sleeping in until two in the afternoon, and never getting out from under the covers. He could be marathoning his favorite TV show or a new K-drama that Taehyung’s obsessed with, finishing the whole series in a single day. He could go out for brunch like any good college student would, go to an overpriced café and take aesthetically pleasing photos to post online, spend the whole day online shopping.
But instead, he’s standing in the sun surrounded by prospective owners and a whole bunch of pets, watching as you play with a few of the puppies in the pen as people ask you questions, and Jungkook decides that there’s really nothing else that he would rather be doing than this.
Here’s the thing: animals are cute, but you with animals is cuter.
Jungkook comes to this conclusion relatively early in the day, after staring at you unabashedly as you play with the puppies, pick up cats for people to hold, and encourage prospective owners to consider older animals in the shelter because they give just as much love and joy as the babies. He is, admittedly, not doing the thing he came here to do (volunteer), but hardly anyone is paying attention to him and he is, in turn, paying attention to you. And you’re doing your work, so does it really matter if he’s not doing his?
In the end, Jungkook actually does begin to contribute something of substance to the event, but only because the coordinator assigned him to the animal registration table for people adopting pets, which means he doesn’t get a free pass to watch you play with puppies for the rest of the day.
Jungkook volunteers, he swears, but he doesn’t do it that often, which makes participating in this even feel that much better. He can’t help but smile and congratulate the brand new owners on their new best friend(s), happily filling in the official papers and watching as each animal goes to their forever home. It’s humbling, and it makes him happy, and Jungkook doesn’t think he could get that sort of feeling if he just stayed at home watching Netflix.
The day ends up being a success. At least, that’s what the coordinator tells him, because over half of the pets available got adopted in that single afternoon, which seems to be quite the accomplishment. The good news is that even though Jungkook was objectively less than helpful, the coordinator isn’t shouting at him because everything turned out well anyway. So that’s always a plus.
“We’re gonna start packing up, folks,” the coordinator says into her megaphone as the day winds down. “Animals first, equipment second!”
“Jungkook, come over here! Quick!”
For a second, Jungkook thinks you’re in pain, but it’s enough of a second for him to turn to the sound of your voice and dash over, responsibilities (as per usual) forgotten.
And then it turns out that you’re nowhere near injured, or hurt, or anything even resembling endangerment of your wellbeing.
Instead, what he sees is this:
You, waiting in the middle of the park, grass tickling your ankles. You, grinning as you meet his eyes from where he stands a few feet away from you. You, with your t-shirt from the rescue center and plain jeans on.
You, with a kitten in your arms, mewling softly as you stroke its back.
“Are we allowed to adopt now that the fair is over?” Jungkook jokes as he comes over to you. It’s when he’s right by your side that he notices something different about the cat, at the exact same time you point it out—
“She’s only got three-legs!” You say, overwhelmed with affection and completely endeared. “Look at her! She’s only got three legs,” you say, motioning for Jungkook to come closer.
“Do you know what happened?” Jungkook asks, leaning down to hold his fingers out for the kitten to sniff. She does so dutifully, pressing her little pink nose up against Jungkook’s fingertips before deeming him a satisfactory human being. Instinctively, Jungkook begins to rub at her cheek.
“No, only that they found her with something on her leg and it had to be amputated when they brought her to the shelter,” you say, bottom lip coming out in a pout as you look down at her.
Jungkook grins. “What’s her name?”
“Miracle,” you tell him.
Fitting name.
“Isn’t she adorable?” You ask, holding Miracle close to you as she clings to your chest. It’s clear that the both of you have already latched on to each other.
Jungkook nods, because how could he ever disagree? You’re standing in the middle of the local park as the afternoon draws to a close and the evening light sets in. It’s a little chillier now that the sun is going down, but it casts a hazy glow over your surroundings. And you’re just waiting there, a kitten in your hands and a smile on your face, and Jungkook can’t resist.
He can’t resist the way you look, how you could possibly look like this. He can’t resist as he pulls out his phone, not-so-subtly pulling up the camera so he can snap a few quick shots. Because pictures like this deserve to be remembered forever.
You don’t notice until the fifth picture in, when Miracle begins to meow, drawing your attention away from her and up to Jungkook.
“Oh my God, hey!” You shout softly, trying not to frighten Miracle or attract the attention of any of the other volunteers who are very obviously doing more work than you two at the current moment. “How could you snipe me like that? I’ve got cat fur and dog slobber all over me, I probably look like trash.”
“You don’t,” Jungkook insists, but he pulls his phone out of your reach anyway. Just in case. “You look fine.”
“Fine does not equate to picture-worthy,” you hiss, but you’re laughing.
“I’m a photographer, Y/N,” Jungkook says, patting himself on the back. “If I need a work a little magic, then I will.”
You scoff. “Sorry that my sweaty ass isn’t up to par with your Instagram standards,” you joke, making Jungkook chuckle. You put Miracle back into the pen she was waiting in throughout the fair, beginning to wrap up. “But at least you finally have two pictures of the same girl on your Instagram page.”
Jungkook chuckles again, but this one isn’t as real.
He had forgotten about Instagram entirely.
“Jungkook, your fucking phone alarm keeps going off!”
Jungkook’s in the bathroom, halfway through the latest John Mulaney Netflix comedy special, doing his goddamn business.
“It’s for my laundry!” He shouts back. He needs to go and pick it up at the laundromat around the corner before someone steals one sock from every pair and leaves him, hypothetically, sock-less. “Can you just turn it off?”
“Fine!”
Jungkook thinks that’s the end of the conversation, so he unpauses the comedy special and laughs as John Mulaney tells anecdotes about his youth. And then, two seconds later, there’s banging on the bathroom door.
“Jeon Jungkook!” Taehyung shrieks, accompanying every syllable with an equally as impactful thump on the door. “Open this door!”
“I’m on the goddamn toilet!” Jungkook shouts back. What does a locked bathroom door mean to Taehyung? Doesn’t he know what the hell Jungkook’s doing in here? “Give me a second!”
“We have to talk, right now!” Taehyung yells. Their neighbors are probably calling down noise complaints at this very moment.
“What the fuck,” Jungkook mutters, closing out of the Netflix app on his phone and hurrying himself up. He finishes up his goddamn business, laments the cutting short of the comedy special, washes his hands, and opens the door.
The moment it cracks open even a sliver, Taehyung is crashing into the bathroom, holding up Jungkook’s phone like it just murdered his entire nuclear and extended family. Jungkook nearly stumbles back into the shower at the force of everything, before Taehyung dangles his own goddamn phone right in front of his face.
“What the fuck is this?”
“Uh…” Jungkook says, a little frightened and a lot confused, “the time?”
“Not that, you dumbass!” Taehyung says. “Your lockscreen!”
“What about it?” Jungkook asks, desperately trying to scramble for his phone back. And while Taehyung may have the upper hand and the element of surprise, Jungkook is swole and swift, and he manages to rip it out of Taehyung’s grasp before long.
“It’s of Y/N! Are you serious!” In hindsight, maybe Jungkook shouldn’t have taken his phone out of Taehyung’s hands, because now both of them are smacking Jungkook’s shoulders repeatedly like the worst cuckoo clock ever.
Jungkook pushes Taehyung off of him and gains his bearings. “So? We’re dating.”
Fake dating. Minor detail.
“Yeah,” Taehyung says like a popular white girl in a teenage movie. “But you’ve never set a photo of someone as your lockscreen before! Or ever!”
“She’s cute, what do you mean?” Jungkook says defensively. Taehyung is reading way too into this.
Taehyung frowns. “I’ve known you since before we started college, and in that time not once have I ever seen your phone background be of a picture of a girl, or anybody, you were romantically interested in. Ever. I’m pretty sure you’d set your lockscreen as Hyuna before you’d set it to a picture of a girl you like. Let alone one with a three-legged kitten!”
“First of all, I love Hyuna, so fuck you,” Jungkook says pointedly. He’d die for her, full stop. If Hyuna told Jungkook to abandon his twenty-first century life and live as a hermit for the rest of his life, he’d do it without question. “Second of all, is it really that big of a deal? We’re just dating. It seemed like a natural segue.”
“Wow,” Taehyung says, taking another step back from Jungkook. He looks him up and down like a doctor inspecting the body for wounds, hands on his hips. Then he says, “I can’t believe you’re actually starting to fall for somebody.”
Jungkook opens his mouth to tell Taehyung he’s being overdramatic and ridiculous (as he usually is), but something stops him. There’s no way he could be falling for you. Absolutely not. You’re just friends, and after these three months are over you’re just going to go back to being friends. Friends who are, collectively, four hundred dollars wealthier. It seems like a good deal. It’s also fake in every sense of the word.
There’s no way that the feeling are real.
How could they be?
Min Yoongi does not want to make a big deal out of his and Hoseok’s first anniversary. Jung Hoseok wants to hire a plane to write JHS ♡ MYG in the sky.
Naturally, they have a house party.
It’s half an excuse to celebrate the first of what Jungkook is probably correct to assume is many, many more anniversaries, and half an excuse to throw a party that involves alcohol but does not involve frat boys. Which are two criteria that Jungkook heavily considers when figuring out plans for the night.
Because it goes without saying, Jungkook invites you as his plus one. If he didn’t, Taehyung would probably accuse Jungkook of trying to fake date for money (which he obviously isn’t already doing), and then steal his manga collection and sell it on the streets, in that order. These are things that Jungkook definitely does not want. Also, you know Hoseok, which means that by the transitive property in Jungkook’s eighth grade geometry class, you know Yoongi. And that basically rounds out Jungkook’s friend group.
By the time you and Jungkook arrive at Hoseok’s apartment just a couple of blocks off of campus, he can already hear the bass thumping through the floorboards outside. Hoseok and Yoongi have good music taste, for sure, but there is no way either of them would willingly set the volume that high. Which means that—
“Jungkook!” Taehyung shouts, already buzzed, as the two of you step inside Hoseok’s apartment. He wraps an arm around Jungkook’s shoulder, nursing a nearly-empty glass of red wine. Jungkook is right to assume this is definitely not his first glass. Taehyung waves hello to you as well, doing his rounds as per usual, before fluttering off to cling onto someone else.
Hoseok’s house party looks less like a party and more like a house. The lights are dim (courtesy of Yoongi), hors d'oeuvres are set out on the counter island (courtesy of Seokjin), and only their closest friends (plus guests) are here (courtesy of Hoseok). The only thing that might elicit any sort of party vibe is the booming bass that rings throughout the room as music plays from their television (courtesy of, you guessed it, Taehyung).
“Hey, Jungkook!” Hoseok shouts from where he’s lingering around the kitchen island, popping an olive into his mouth. He waves the both of you over to where he and Yoongi are standing, drinking their tasteful wine and eating their tasteful tapas. “You’re the girlfriend, right?” Hoseok asks, pointing to you with a smile.
“That’s me,” you say, nodding. “Hoseok and Yoongi, right? I recognize you from—”
“From the pictures,” Jungkook interjects. You look to Jungkook with a puzzled expression, and he raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes unhelpfully. “I showed some to you, remember?” He says, trying to be natural.
“Oh, yeah,” you say, catching on. Changing the topic, you turn to Hoseok and say, “You direct a dance group, right Hoseok?”
“Yeah! You’ve heard of it?” Hoseok says, eyes lighting up. He’s always happy to talk about the things he loves (dance, chemistry, and Yoongi).
“My friend is in it,” you tell him. “Do you know Chungha?”
“Oh my God, yes!” Hoseok exclaims excitedly. “I think that when I graduate, I’m gonna make her the leader. She’s so talented.”
“Learned from the best,” Yoongi adds in softly, blushing. Hoseok responds by pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s cheek, grabbing another olive to go as he heads off to greet other guests.
With Hoseok out of the picture, Yoongi’s disposition morphs almost instantly. In the blink of an eye, he goes from humbled, in-love boyfriend, to jaded, suspicious college student.
Jungkook opens his mouth to explain to Yoongi before his friend reads him like a board book, but Yoongi beats him to it.
“Let me guess,” Yoongi says, eyes narrowed as he stares the both of you down. Unlike Jungkook, who’s already caving into himself under the weight of Yoongi’s gaze, you’re holding onto his arm firmly, looking at Yoongi with a stern glare. “You asked her to pose as your girlfriend so you can get the cash?”
“Well,” Jungkook says, because technically Yoongi’s wrong. He didn’t ask. You did. And you’re splitting the cash, so that solves that issue. “Not really,” he says, like a kid trying to get out of punishment for something he very clearly did.
Yoongi frowns. He turns to you. “Please tell me that you’re getting compensated for hanging out with my dumbass friend.”
“Hey!” Jungkook cries indignantly.
“Yes,” you assure Yoongi. “I am. But thanks for the concern.” Just then, Hoseok calls you over to introduce you to a couple of his friends from his dance group, and you wave goodbye to Jungkook and Yoongi before scurrying off.
Yoongi looks at Jungkook, and Jungkook feels fucking transparent under his sharp gaze. He grimaces. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?
“Yes,” Jungkook insists, taking some offense to what Yoongi’s insinuating. He’s got everything under control, thank you very much. The guidelines to your arrangement were laid out very clearly in a Google Doc, electronically signed by the both of you. You’re getting along well. Jungkook hopes that you’ll be still friends after all of this is over, because he likes spending time with you. Go figure. “I’m fine, Yoongi. You don’t need to worry.”
Yoongi looks skeptical, but he drops the subject anyway. “If you say so,” he says. “I just don’t want you to expect something you aren’t getting.”
“What do you mean?”
Jimin finds Jungkook, in that instant, and drags him to participate in karaoke with you, him, and Taehyung. As he’s getting pulled away from the conversation. Jungkook looks at Yoongi desperately for a response. Yoongi doesn’t answer.
Two rounds of early 2000’s karaoke and several voice cracks later, you end up next to Jungkook’s side as the party rages around you. Well, not necessarily rages. More like continues.
“What did Yoongi say to you?” You ask, leaning in to whisper into Jungkook’s ear.
“Oh, he was just making sure that I knew what I was doing,” Jungkook says. It’s not not the truth.
“And do you?” You ask, eyebrows raised as you look up at him.
Jungkook falters.
He thinks he does.
“Taehyung, did you drink this whole bottle—god damnit,” Seokjin’s voice echoes throughout the apartment as Taehyung happily bounces out of the kitchen, even more tipsy than he was when he slung his arm around Jungkook as he and you walked into Hoseok’s apartment. He’s not flat out intoxicated yet, but he’s certainly getting there. Hopefully, Jimin has the sense to keep more alcohol out of his hands.
“Jungkook,” Taehyung coos happily as he peppers platonic kisses all over Jungkook’s cheek. This is natural. “Don’t forget about the deal, alright? I still have the four hundred dollars if you manage to date for that long.” He singsongs his words. In Taehyung’s stupor, he seems to have forgotten that you are still standing right next to Jungkook, watching as his best friend plops wet smooches on the side of Jungkook’s face 1) like it’s nobody’s business and 2) like he doesn’t already have a boyfriend he does this regularly with anyway.
Jungkook turns to you, eyes wide, but you pat his shoulder and calm him down.
It’s fine, you mouth to him. I already know.
Obviously, Jungkook’s mind supplies unhelpfully. That’s why you’re here. Because you already know about the deal. And the money. Obviously.
“You know what,” Taehyung says, finger pointed. “I’ve never seen you kiss Y/N,” he continues, and Jungkook already doesn’t like the direction Taehyung’s headed in. “You guys should do it.”
“Should we, though?” Jungkook say, looking hesitant.
“I know you, Jungkook,” Taehyung says accusingly, “I know that you would start fake dating something just so you could get the cash. Prove that you aren’t.”
Jungkook frowns. “You know you actually have no power or right to make us kiss, so—”
Before Jungkook can continue, you flip him around to face you and pull him in close, hands on his neck as you plant your lips on his. Jungkook nearly stumbles back from the shock of it all, but you keep your grip tight and slowly, his hands find his way to to your waist. Distantly, he can register Taehyung (and probably everyone else in the room) shouting, but all he feels is your lips on his and his heart on fire. It’s by no means a super majestic, romantic, movie-worthy kiss, but Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat and he instantly relaxes at your touch, and that’s never happened to him before.
When you part, it feels like Jungkook’s heart is about to beat right out of his chest.
Taehyung seems perfectly satisfied, and has already moved on to pressing up against Jimin in an effort to upstage the both of you. He will definitely succeed in his endeavors, mostly because Taehyung and Jimin are a thing, and Jungkook and you, well.
You turn to Jungkook, cheeks warm from both the rush and the embarrassment, and you grin. Jungkook takes one look at you, and his heart starts to race. He maybe wants to do that again. Actually, he knows that he wants to do that again.
Fuck.
You (3:23PM): hey are you busy rn?
Jungkook (3:23PM): no
Jungkook (3:23PM): what’s up?
You (3:23PM): do you wanna go out and get acai bowls?
You (3:23PM): i feel like we gotta talk about some stuff
Jungkook (3:24PM): yeah
Jungkook (3:24PM): right now?
You (3:24PM): sure
You (3:24PM): meet in 15?
Jungkook (3:25PM): okay!
Jungkook is nervous.
Granted, Jungkook gets nervous when he’s spontaneously offered a baby to be held and he doesn’t know what to do because he doesn’t frequently hold babies, but still. He’s nervous.
He’s sitting in the acai bowl place with his hands in his pockets, palms sweating. Logically, he should take his hands out of his pockets to remedy this, but if he does that then he’s just going to rub his sweaty hands through his obnoxiously long hair until you get there, and he doesn’t want to pour his heart out to you with sweaty hair.
So he sits on the high stools by the counters against the windows with sweaty hands and a nervous blink, watching to see when you’ll walk in.
It occurs to him then that if all goes well, you might actually end up holding hands after all of this is over, and for God’s sake he cannot have sweaty hands, so he gets up and grabs about fifteen napkins from the dispenser to the suspicious glare of the underpaid teenage worker behind the cash register, rubbing his palms profusely on them.
It is then, as Jungkook stands looking simultaneously like a fish in water and like he just walked out of middle school PE, that the bell above the door rings and you walk in, hands in the pockets of your hoodie and your backpack resting on your shoulders.
“Hey,” you say softly, standing next to him as you stare up at the menu board. Jungkook’s come here before with you, and he’s already memorized your order.
“Hey,” Jungkook replies, weirdly out of breath.
“What are you getting?” You ask. Jungkook hates how neither of you know how to start the conversation.
“Oh, just, uh, my usual, I guess,” Jungkook says with a shrug. He has been here a total of one other time (with you), and he didn’t really like what he got last time, but now it’s been established as his ‘usual’ and he’s in too deep to change it now.
You end up back where Jungkook was sitting before, next to the giant glass window that overlooks the busy street. Jungkook sets his acai bowl down on the counter, turns to face you, and takes a deep breath. It’s now or never.
“I—”
“I think I like you,” you blurt out first, words tumbling out of your mouth like an avalanche. You’re staring at Jungkook, biting down on your lip nervously, and Jungkook sputters. “I’m just gonna tell you up front. I think I have a crush on you. No, I know that I do.”
“I—” Jungkook says again, floundering. “I don’t—”
“I’m really sorry,” you say, turning back to look at the strawberries in your bowl. “I think it’s been building up slowly for a while, but ever since that night at Hoseok’s house I just… I realized, you know?”
Jungkook’s silent.
“And I knew that I had to tell you because we’ve been really clear about all of the terms of this… agreement and I wasn’t going to hide this from you either,” you’re rambling now, words practically bouncing on top of each other. “I’m really sorry, Jungkook. It’s okay if you’re angry or something, I know that this wasn’t part of the contract because you kind of have to find a new partner since we both made it clear that this relationship wasn’t inherently romantic even though I made it into one anyway. Just say the word and we can call this thing off. I’m sorry.”
You stare down into your acai bowl like it just set the curve for your least favorite class. Jungkook sits there, acai bowl untouched, words processing.
“Do you… want to say anything?” You ask, nervous again.
“Don’t apologize,” Jungkook says. His hands are all sweaty again, but he barely pays them any attention. “I don’t care. Fuck the contract, honestly. It’s a Google Docs.” You’re gazing at him with wide-eyes, shocked that he’s even opened his mouth. “I’m really glad that you and I are doing this together. I probably would have never even met you if it weren’t for you interrupting me and Yoongi at the coffee place.”
You grin.
Jungkook realizes, then, that he’s been waiting too long to do this.
“Honestly, I—” He says before chuckling, sweaty hand scratching at the nape of his neck, “I was gonna tell you something too. But you beat me to it.”
“Hmm?” You ask, looking at him.
“I think I like you, too,” Jungkook says, and his heart seems to finally settle. “No, I know I do. You’re right—it’s been a long time coming, but the party at Hoseok’s just… I realized. I needed you to know that, too. You deserved to know that this is reciprocated.” Jungkook gets a burst of confidence (probably from the cool air that rushes through the room whenever someone opens the door), and takes your hands in his own. They’re sweaty, and Jungkook feels like he just ran a marathon, but it feels almost like they belong. Like this moment was meant to be.
“We may have started this thing because of my dumbass friends, but I want to continue it with you,” Jungkook says. He’s six lectures behind in his differential equations class, he hasn’t done the readings for his Korean-American history course since the beginning of the semester, his diet has mostly consisted of midnight ramen and chocolate chip granola bars, but he has never felt lighter. “I like you a lot, Y/N.”
“Oh, thank God,” you say dramatically, heaving a sigh. “Because I like you a lot, too.”
Naturally, it’s smooth sailing from there. At least one aspect of Jungkook’s life is working out for him. His differential equations lectures, history readings, and diet are still works in progress.
“So, can I delete the Google Drive document?” You ask, pulling out your phone. “I don’t think we need it anymore, do we?”
“Unless you still want to reference it for instructions on how to be a good significant other,” Jungkook jokes. He still hasn’t touched his acai bowl. He definitely needs to come clean and order something else next time. “My standards are pretty high.”
“Hey! I exceed all of those standards on a regular basis, don’t I? I bought you hot chocolate and a croissant that one day. And I’m good with your friends. Isn’t that, like, what all guys want in a relationship?”
Jungkook pouts. It kind of is, but truth be told you exceed his standards just by existing. “No,” he insists. “Sometimes they just want to be little spoon but everybody makes fun of them.”
“Aw, do you want to be little spoon?” You ask, totally endeared. You press a kiss to his cheek and it makes his skin turn cherry red. “You can be little spoon. I think that I’m a great cuddler.”
“We’ll have to test that theory,” Jungkook says with an eyebrow raise.
“Hmm, I like the sound of that,” you say, leaning into him. Jungkook lets his body be enveloped by your warmth, basking in it, before you jump up, something else popping into your head. “Oh! We should probably tell your friends to call off the deal, don’t you think?” You say. “This isn’t really about the money anymore, is it. I’d feel bad.”
Jungkook has half a mind to tell you that Taehyung would probably bathe in one hundred dollar bills if their apartment had a bath, so four hundred dollars is practically pocket change in his eyes, but you’re right. As usual, you’re right. Curse you and your good-hearted nature.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Jungkook concedes easily. You could probably tell him to change his major to English and he would listen to you. “I’ll tell them tomorrow.”
“Oh God, they’re gonna roast us so hard for making a deal,” you say, face-palming. This is true, but Jungkook’s friends will get over it. Jimin’s a hopeless romantic and Taehyung will just be overwhelmingly thrilled that Jungkook actually managed to hold down a relationship.
“They’ll get over it,” Jungkook says. He presses a kiss to your forehead and lets his heart flutter.
“You think anything’s gonna change?” You ask, resting your head on his shoulder.
Jungkook pauses for a second. Wonders if there’s something to fear. And he decides that he couldn’t care less about that. “Even if it does, I don’t care. As long as we’re together.”
“We’ve been summoned,” Taehyung says as he and Jimin arrive at the group study room Jungkook booked specifically for this occasion.
“By who?” Jungkook asks, scrunching up his nose in disgust. “Because it wasn’t me.”
“No, you’re right,” Taehyung says, collapsing on the chair across from Jungkook. “It was this angry gremlin with hair that looks like a wet mop. Let’s see… what what his name again?”
If there wasn’t a massive table separating them, Jungkook would throw hands at this very instant.
“The fact that you called both of us here frightens me greatly,” Jimin says as he takes a seat next to Taehyung, their hands interlacing almost instantly. “Either you’re about to tell us you’re dropping out or that Taehyung’s cheating on me with you.”
Jungkook frowns. “Why the fuck would I ever date Taehyung?”
Taehyung gasps. “What do you mean? I’m a catch. Admit it, Jungkookie, you’d date me in a heartbeat.”
“I would literally rather have Jimin vomit into my own mouth,” Jungkook deadpans. Jimin nearly actually pukes at the mention of such an action, and Jungkook decides that even the pure thought of that makes him want to cannonball into a volcano. “But I’m not cheating on either one of you with the other one, and I’m not about to drop out.”
“Oh, thank God,” Taehyung says dramatically, like he says everything else. “I thought that we would lose our resident Buff Boy who eats all of my leftovers at meals. I was worried there for a second.”
“I hate you,” Jungkook tells Taehyung genuinely.
“If you’re not dropping out, then why did you call us here?” Jimin asks curiously. “To study? Taehyung doesn’t even know where his backpack is.”
“You lost your backpack?” Jungkook says, in awe. He knew Taehyung was careless, but he didn’t think he was that careless. Maybe he really has lost all fucks. Which does not bode well for him, considering he has to write a thesis in order to graduate.
“I just don’t know where it is right now, alright?” Taehyung says, ashamed. He very well should be. What kind of college student loses their backpack? “Why did you ask us here?” He changes the topic so as not to be subject to any more shaming.
“Uh, to talk about the whole deal thing,” Jungkook says awkwardly. He has no idea how he’s going to go about this. He walked into this group study room about as prepared as Taehyung is when he walks into his first round of midterms.
“Ah, yes,” Taehyung nods sneakily. “Honestly, Jungkook, I’m impressed that you and Y/N have even been going on for this long. Does she know about it?”
Jimin smacks Taehyung in the side. “Obviously not, otherwise they wouldn’t still be dating. Have some faith in our Jungkookie for not betraying this deal to her.”
“Actually—”
“Oh, yeah,” Taehyung says with a laugh. “If she knew about this, she’d absolutely break up with you.”
“I’m. Aware.” Jungkook says stiffly.
“You’ve exceeded all expectations, Jungkook,” Taehyung says happily. “You got a girlfriend and you managed to maintain a relationship for nearly three months all without mentioning the deal to her.”
“Your faith in me is overwhelming.” Jungkook frowns.
“We’re very impressed with you, you know? She seems really nice, too. I thought you’d, like, resort to Tinder dates just so you could get the money,” Jimin adds on.
“Oh, speaking of money, since Jungkook’s doing such a good job, how about we…” Taehyung pauses for dramatic effect, which is something he does so frequently that it just makes every one of his sentences overdramatic, “raise the stakes?” Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows just as an add-on to the proposition.
“Seriously, Tae? Don’t waste your money on something like this—”
“But you’re doing so well! Why wouldn’t you want more money?”
The nagging college student part of his brain tells him to just cave and accept the money, because a higher payment means more money for the both of you, which is… tempting. Jungkook is, still at heart, a desperate and money-starved college student.
But he knows he can’t. Not because it would be a waste of Taehyung’s resources, but because neither of you need the money anymore. What for? You’re already dating.
“Because—”
“Even I would accept it, and I’m an international student,” Taehyung says with a laugh. “Y/N doesn’t even need to know!”
Something in Jungkook snaps.
“You know what, you guys?” Jungkook says, standing up from his seat angrily, hands slamming onto the table. “No. I don’t want your money, and I don’t want you guys to raise the stakes or whatever. This isn’t right. I shouldn’t be paid to date someone.”
“But what does it matter if she doesn’t know?” Taehyung asks, a single eyebrow raised in confusion.
“It matters because I care about her! For fuck’s sake, that’s why it matters,” Jungkook says, running a hand through his hair out of exasperation. “It matters because it’s about the principle. I care about her, and I don’t need any sort of incentive to date her. I just want to.”
“But—” Taehyung says again.
“She knows, you dumbass!” Jungkook shouts. “She’s well aware that there was money on the line. We started dating because we came up with this—this agreement to split the money once the three months were over. But then we both realized we actually wanted to date each other for, you know, an actual relationship, and we decided to get rid of the deal. Which is why I called you guys over here. To tell you that I don’t wanna do it anymore. I’m out.”
“Seriously, Jungkook?” Jimin says. “You started fake-dating someone for money and then you fell for her?”
“She is really nice,” Jungkook insists. “You said it yourself, Jimin. I care about her.”
“Wow,” Taehyung says, speechless, for once in his life. “I never knew you actually went through with all of this. I didn’t even think you’d manage to do it at all. You had me fooled.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a sigh. “Me too. The fact that you guys even thought this deal was a good idea at the time is just… it’s ridiculous. I was dumb, too, for accepting it. But I don’t wanna do it anymore.”
“Okay,” Taehyung says with a simple nod. He’s holding Jimin’s hand, which means all this talk about romance and dating is making him sappy. “We don’t have to do it anymore. I’m sorry for being so obnoxious about it. We’ll call it off.”
Jimin raises his hand, almost like he’s scared to say something. “I know we’re calling this off, but since Y/N knows about this whole deal in the first place, I feel like we should do something to make it up to her. You know, because she got roped into this thing.”
“I think that’ll be nice. Something meaningful, too. Not just money,” Taehyung adds.
Jungkook grins. He knows exactly what to get.
When Jungkook knocks on your door the next afternoon, he can barely hold his grin in.
“Jungkook?” You say when you open the door to see him, holding a nicely-wrapped but suspicious-looking box in both of his hands.
“Hi, Y/N,” Jungkook says happily.
“I don’t like that look on your face,” you immediately say as you usher him inside. “You’re scaring me. You text me are you at your place rn? and when I say yes, I receive no further information.”
Jungkook just smiles. “I have a present for you.”
“I can see that. Can I ask why?”
“Because you’re my girlfriend.”
You squint your eyes. “Is that a good enough reason?”
“I think so. It’s also from Taehyung and Jimin, but don’t give them most of the credit. It’s mine. I got this for you. Because you are my girlfriend and I am your boyfriend.”
“O...kay,” you say hesitantly, hands held out as Jungkook places the box in your palms. You sink under its weight, clearly surprised at how heavy it is for a simple box. “If this is a prank, I’m breaking up with you.”
“Please don’t break up with me. I think I might love you,” Jungkook says, smile so wide it’s beginning to hurt his cheeks.
You pause, hand on the top of the box about to open it, and look up at him. Your face is impossibly soft, and Jungkook wishes that you could stay like that for longer, just so he can etch it into his memory. Remember it when he’s sad. “You think you might love me?”
“I think so,” Jungkook says honestly, because it’s true. He’s not sure yet, but he knows he’s on his way. “I think I do.”
“I—” You say, soft grin lacing your features. “I think so, too.”
“Open it!” Jungkook insists, giving your wrist a squeeze as encouragement. “I promise it’s not a prank. But even if it was, please don’t break up with me.”
“You are never this happy, which makes me exceedingly stressed,” you say, hands tentatively beginning to take the lid off of the box. “Why are there holes in the side of this thing? Is something about to squirt out at me?”
“No,” Jungkook says. “It’s nice, I swear.”
You narrow your eyes at him.
“You’re my girlfriend,” Jungkook says. “You deserve it. You wanted it, too. I got exactly what you wanted.”
Before you even have the lid off of the box, you hear a sound.
Meow.
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For the Record
Summary: Namjoon owns a record shop. It’s more for the nostalgia than anything but he loves to see the happiness on someone’s face when he can recommend a good record to someone who’s never owned one before. Enter you, but you’re not looking for a record. You’re looking for a helping hand and a gentleman. Namjoon is happy to oblige.
Rating: M
Genre: SMUT! Crack... I got carried away....
Warnings: A little blood. Nipple play. Sexual activities in a store. There is spanking. Daddy. Princess. Baby girl. Hiding. Fingering. Namjoon’s hands... mentions of big dick Joon. Open ending??? Provocative dress. Clumsy reader. Cute Joon.
Word count: 6,061
Author’s note: 죄송합니다! 죄송합니다! I’m sooooo sorry... I got way too carried away and I still feel like it’s unfinished.... it’s longer than intended....
Have a great day and I hope that you enjoy your record,” Namjoon said to the girl who had been browsing the shop for the last two hours. His heart was beating fast as he watched her walk away. Her hips swayed from side to side as her hair swished behind her. He’d genuinely thought she was pretty and he’d spent the whole time she was walking around trying to muster the courage to ask for her number but when she had come up with one of the oldest records in his shop and a big bright smile to check out, he’d choked and inevitably let her walk out without even finding out her name.
He felt his whole body relax as he sat back in his old- or how he liked to call it- vintage, rolling chair. It expelled a ridiculous amount of air and the cushion flattened slowly under his weight. It was nearly closing time on a Friday and yet again he had no plans after work. No girlfriend, no dates, no hookup… not that Namjoon was the type to hook up. Which, he guessed, was the reason it was so difficult for him. Most people his age wanted a quick hook up and he… he wanted something real. And it scared people away it seemed.
He twirled his chair from side to side. The silence in the shop made him anxious so he reached over to one of the newer models of the record players that were on display and turned it on. He couldn’t remember what record was playing on it but it was soothing and kind of jazzy. He let his eyes close and simply enjoyed the music. It caressed his ears with its slightly grainy and deep sound. It made him think of dark coffee and libraries. His thoughts seemed to be playing in black and white and he could almost see an old-time-y club from the 20s with a live band and girls with short hair and flapper dresses.
He could see himself in a corner of the venue in a jet black suit and a perfect white button-up with some glasses and a dark tie. A glass of some fancy alcohol was in one ringed hand as he watched people dancing.
A woman had caught his attention. She was faceless but wearing an incredibly low cut flapper dress that, though he was seeing it in shades of grey, was a golden yellow that jingled with every step over the loudness of the music-
Wait. That’s the bell of the store!
Namjoon jumped, his eyes shooting open. He felt groggy like he’d just taken a nap but one look at his watch told him that he had only been resting his eyes for a couple of minutes. Right after that realization, he looked up and around to see who had walked in. When at first, his eyes were met with no one, he was confused. It was completely possible that he had imagined the sound but he didn’t think it was the case.
Reluctantly, he stood up to get a better vantage point and was quick to find someone cowering behind one of the many displays covered in records.
He wasn’t sure what to do. You seemed to be alright. At least, he thought you did, but also you were hiding. Was it from him? Were you a thief? He wasn’t sure.
Were thieves usually dressed in mustard yellow sundresses and strappy straw wedges? No. He didn’t think so. You seemed more so like a random person who was…maybe checking out the boxes under the tables? Then again, you weren’t really looking at the records. Instead, you were looking at the glass windows and door with what looked like- was it fear? Disgust?
He struggled with himself on what to do. One hand, you could be in some sort of danger, but on the other hand…he did have a microwave dinner waiting for him at home.
Who was he kidding? He had nothing to do for the night and he supposed he could keep the store open for a little while longer if it was to help an innocent person.
“Excuse me,” Namjoon said loudly and you flinched.
He flinched reflexively as your head snapped to look at him. Your doe eyes were wide like a car was ready to hit you full force. Your pretty hair tumbled down your back in waves that hardly seemed possible without some sort of heat and your cute button of a nose shone in the fluorescent lights of the shop.
Namjoon had never seen a woman more beautiful and ethereal than you. It was like he was staring at an angel that had been sent down from heaven just for him. Was there a God? Namjoon had never believed there was but looking at the masterpiece that was you, made him think that there must have been because someone had to create this work of art before him. His mouth went dry, it was suddenly harder to breathe, and all thoughts and words and languages were absent from his brain. Years of study down the drain. What point was there to his impeccable English grades when he couldn’t properly utilize it to converse with a woman of such beauty?
Okay so it was working in his brain so why were no words coming out of his mouth? How does one speak again?
“S-sorry,” he slurred through his useless tongue, instantly beating himself up. He cleared his throat awkwardly and tried to swallow, but his mouth may as well have been filled with cotton or saltines because it was as dry as the Sahara. Water. He needed water.
He looked around for his bottle but couldn’t seem to find it. When was the last time he had seen it? He’d drank some of the water during his lunch break after he had choked on a particularly hard potato chip then his phone had rung and-
“I’m really sorry,” you whispered back not really sure why you guys were speaking at such volume but you went with it, “I know it’s kind of late and I saw that your store closes in like five minutes but can I just hide in here until then?”
Namjoon snapped his head back to you. He blinked owlishly as you silently begged with your Bambi eyes. Two shimmering stars sparkled in each iris. Your pinkened lips were pulled into the most adorable pout he’d ever seen. And that included puppies and babies. How could he possibly say no?
“Uh,” he took a deep breath trying to get his mouth to function properly, “yeah- yes! Of course…uh… take your time.”
Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck nervously hoping that he didn’t seem too eager and therefore creepy in your eyes, but your shoulders relaxed and a small endearing smile graced your pouty lips.
“Thank you! Thank you, I promise I’ll buy one of these…” you paused looking at the slightly dust-covered box before you-geez, Namjoon really had to dust again-with a perturbed expression, “jukebox thingies?”
Record scratch. Jukebox thingies? Jukebox thingies? Were you kidding? You had to be kidding. Beautiful and funny. What a combo. Namjoon giggled, thinking that this was the correct way to react to your joke but your confused, raised eyebrow stopped him in his tracks.
Oh no. You weren’t kidding. Did you really not know what these thingies were? Who didn’t know what a record was? How young were you? Fear shocked his spine and he blushed. Had he just been ogling a minor? In his defense, you looked at least 20 but he guessed you could be around eighteen if he stretched his perfective a bit. But anything younger than that wasn’t feasible. Yet, the only explanation was that you had to be far younger than he was accounting for. Kids these days… they dress really inappropriately for their age.
“No kid, those are records. Are you hiding from your parents or something?” Namjoon asked, suddenly a little irritated.
You furrowed your eyebrows at him and Namjoon forced himself to look away. He was not going to look at you in a weird way. He had higher respect for himself than that. He likes women.
“Parents? What are you talking about-” the ding of the bell from the front door stopped you in your tracks. You shut your mouth, your eyes once again wide and terrified as you glanced over to see who had walked in.
On all fours, you squeaked almost inaudibly and scurried away from your spot and over to another table. Namjoon watched you, perplexed and a bit amused as you tried your best to be silent. Your puppy dog face made its appearance once more from the other side of the table and he rolled his eyes ready to give up to whomever it was that was here for you. Your dad probably?
With a roll of his eyes and a smug smile, he turned over to the door as heavy footsteps echoed behind the quiet music. His stomach sank into his ass when he saw who had walked in. A man, clearly far too young to be a father but definitely not young enough to be in high school like he had originally thought you might have been. And this guy looked flummoxed and partially upset. He had the looks of a Greek God and shoulders wider than he’d ever seen. He was a good couple of inches shorter than Namjoon but he would not be prudent to pick a fight with him.
“Hi! Welcome to Disc-O Overload,” he said in his best customer service voice, “I’m really sorry sir but I’m just about to close up shop so if you could come back tomorrow-”
“Yeah, yeah, look I’m not here for your shop okay? Have you seen a girl walk by here? About this tall,” he held a hand up so that it was level with his cheek, “wavy hair? Great ass?”
Namjoon balked. Instinctively, he wanted to look at you almost as if to confirm what the man was asking but then that would give you away for sure and he didn’t have a great feeling about this jerk.
“I- great ass? I haven’t seen,” he cleared his throat feeling that he was about to say something that would be both good and probably really bad, “anyone like that here today… do you know what they were wearing?”
The man scoffed and rolled his eyes as if he was annoyed that you couldn’t just find this girl for him, “yellow dress? Real low cut? Heels I think? Listen, man, I was on a date with her and the bitch straight up climbed out of the bathroom window! Can you believe it?”
Yes. Namjoon could easily believe it. The guy’s cognitive dissonance was unbelievable. He didn’t seem dangerous but he sure as hell wasn’t going to give you up if you were that desperate to get away. Clearly, if you were on a date with this he-man, you must be of age because this man had to be in his late 20s. Thank God.
“No, I really can’t,” Namjoon said with a fake smile, “but uh… I think I saw her walk past here, now I think about it,” he said thinking quickly. The man perked up instantly and out of the corner of his eye, he saw you tense. He kept his gaze fixated on the man before him, adamant that he wouldn’t give you away.
“Which way did she go,” he asked eagerly. Namjoon almost felt guilty for misleading him, but one minuscule glance in your direction was enough to push his little white lie on.
“I think she was headed for that donut shop around the corner. I hear they have some fantastic glazed.”
The man sighed in disgust, “Yeah she looked like a fattie. The dress she was wearing was practically bursting at the seams,” he sighed, “I guess you can’t have a great ass without fat elsewhere.”
Namjoon could not believe what he was hearing. Men like this still existed? How do these people breed? It is a miracle that the man wasn’t walking on all fours and picking at his hair for fleas as sustenance.
“R-right,” he said when he realized that the man was waiting for him to answer.
“Anyway, thanks for the help.” He slapped something down on the counter then winked at Namjoon.
“Here, I think you’ll need this when this shit show,” he gestured at the store, “goes under. More power to you.”
Then with a smug look, he walked slowly out of the store. His fancy shoes hitting the linoleum floor like the blood that pounded in his ears. What an ass. What a selfish, horrible awful excuse of a human-
The door fell shut of its own accord and it snapped Namjoon back into reality. The red in the corners of his vision ebbed and he walked over to the door to lock it before he came back. He left a crap taste in his mouth. No wonder you had climbed out the bathroom window.
Namjoon pulled the curtains shut so that the night sky was covered and if that ass decided to come back he wouldn’t be able to see you. It was only when it had been fully covered that Namjoon felt his shoulders relax and the anger leave his body slowly.
He really needed to buy himself a new bonsai to soothe his nerves. The world was full of idiots.
When he turned around, you were standing and he realized that the guy had been right about two things. You had a great ass and your dress… was really low cut. Damn. The face of an angel and the body of a… of a…
Was he drooling? Why was his face a little wet? Namjoon blinked and reached up to his mouth to wipe. Low and behold…wait was that blood?
Panic filled his veins as he felt it drip down his chin. The cherry red was alarming but what was more alarming was the fact that it was coming from his nose! Instantly, he pinched his nostrils so that it stopped the flow. Have you seen it? Of course, you had seen! You’re standing right there! With your great ass and fantastic legs and perky- okay stop it Namjoon that’s not helping the situation.
How embarrassing. This hadn’t happened to him since he was in middle school. Why now did his body revert to its prepubescent functions?
“Oh my God are you alright,” You said, taking a couple of steps towards him but Namjoon held a hand out to stop you. He didn’t want to get blood on you. God, he wanted to disappear. If the floor could swallow him up right then he would be grateful.
“Yeah,” he said in a high pitched nasally voice, “Yeah happens all the time…” he lied. Great. Now you probably thought he had some weird problem with his nose. Real nice, Namjoon.
“Oh, uh… do you have napkins or something? Uh… I think I have a tampon somewhere in my bag…”
“Behind the counter,” he said imagining just how stupid he would look with a tampon stuck up his nose. It was the last thing he needed. He watched you walk cautiously to the counter and start to move things around. It was then that he realized that he’d put the napkins he’d used for lunch in a drawer that was under lock and key. Don’t ask him why, he couldn’t tell you but there was no way you would be able to get into it without the keys that…were strapped to the belt loop of his denim jeans.
“I don’t see them,” you said as he walked over carefully so that he didn’t bump into anything.
“I’m sorry,” he said before taking a deep breath through his mouth, “they’re in the drawer with the keyhole… they’re on my belt loop.”
You blinked up at him then looked down at his waist. He silently prayed to whatever God made you to please, please(!) let his nether regions behave but he feared the worst. If his nose was gone, his dick had to be at least halfway there. And…not to toot his own horn but he wasn’t exactly small.
He saw your eyes glaze over for a second and his heart skipped a beat. It was only for a second though because you shook your head and were reaching across the divide. Namjoon kept his head tilted back, his eyes staring at the popcorn ceiling.
Gentle as the breeze, he felt your hand gingerly touch the keys on his belt loops. It wasn’t hard to unclip, he knew as much and you seemed to have been taking extra care to not touch anywhere that didn’t need to be touched.
It was a flood gate of relief when he felt you successfully unclip the ring from his jeans without incident but the discomfort in his pants told him that while the blood was running out of his nose, it was also rushing straight between his legs.
He felt the humiliation fill him as he heard you unlocked the drawer. Why… he would have rather his night have gone how he had originally thought, boring and uneventful than this shit show he was in. It’s not like he had a chance with you.
“Hey, um…what’s your name?” You asked and Namjoon looked down at you. He was met with your pretty eyes and a soft inquisitive smile.
“N-Namjoon. I’m Namjoon.”
“Namjoon,” you confirmed with a nod, “you should sit.”
You gestured to his chair which was a bit of way behind you. He complied, still holding his nose out of fear. It started to feel dry enough but he was scared that it would start again if he looked- gulp- down.
It was then that he realized his huge mistake. Now he was sitting, he was level not with your face but with your chest. Your milky, exposed…soft-looking chest. Fuck. He forced his eyes to meet yours. A smirk was pressed across your pretty lips, or was he imagining it? The white lights framed you like a halo and he had to wonder if you had set him up for this. It was too perfect. The light, the level, the proximity of your body to his.
“Here let me help,” you said bending at the waist. Danger! Danger! Keep your eyes up Namjoon! Don’t look into her dress!
“Ah-I got it!” he nearly yelled pushing his chair farther away from you, his dick pulsed painfully against his jeans. Why had he chosen the tighter ones that day?
“No really let me help! It’s the least I can do to repay you for letting me hide in here past your closing time.”
“It was no big deal,” he said trying to avoid you as you got closer once again. You scrunched up your nose and lunged forward again. Namjoon tried to dodge but cornered himself against the wall. There was nowhere to go and you weren’t letting up.
You grabbed onto the armrests and held the chair from moving. The napkins were in your hand ready to use. You smiled sweetly at him. Why did it feel like a threat?
“You saved a damsel in real distress. I think it was a big deal Namjoon, please?”
How could he refuse? How was he supposed to refuse you when you were so close and you smelled so good and every time you moved, your steep neckline gave room for him to look right into the depths of…
“Oh alright… can I at least get your name?”
You brightened triumphantly, as a smile that was less smug than it was the picture of adorable graced your lips. You gave him whiplash. How could you be both cute and the epitome of sexy? Were you ever trying or was this just you?
“I suppose it’s only fair,” you said, “my name is Y/N but most people call me Bambi for obvious reasons.”
“Do you like it?” Namjoon asked slightly freaked out that he’d thought of that equivalent to you earlier.
Gently, you took the wrist of the hand holding his nose and had him remove it. He felt a bit of blood move as soon as he had but you wasted no time in wiping at it with the napkins. It was so gentle that he could have fallen asleep.
“I don’t mind it,” you shrugged, leaning in a little closer to wipe something he couldn’t see. Suddenly, he felt you nudge his legs closed and you straddled them between your own still standing. Then, ever so slowly, you raised your right led and wedged it between his left thigh and the armrest.
“Sorry, do you mind?” You asked him sugar-sweet, “It’s better leverage.”
“I uh…” words… what were words again. When Namjoon couldn’t think of the right thing to say, he simply held up an ok sign and leaned back on the chair. If his heart would take a chill pill, that would be great.
“Kind of a nightmare huh,” you said and his heart did a full stop. Could you read minds as well?
“Wha-what is?”
“My date,” you said with a laugh that was supposed to diffuse the tension but he could tell you were uncomfortable.
“Oh. Yeah…”
“Found him on an app for people in their 20s who are supposedly ready to settle down but that guy was anything but marriage material.”
You dabbed carefully at his nostril but the blood was starting to dry. Luckily, it wasn’t flowing anymore. Unbeknownst to you, it was for a very BIG reason.
“Yeah. The guy was a real dick,” Namjoon said chuckling lightly as your hand came up to his head. You held your hand against his cheek and steadied his head so you could try to get as much of the blood off his face as you could. Wow… he had a pretty face…
Your legs slipped further onto the chair until your knee was flush against the backrest. You were a short woman, and Namjoon was a long man. It was almost no surprise when your back leg slipped slightly-darn those stupidly slippery yet absolutely adorable wedges- and your ass landed directly on his thighs.
He’d have to be dead to not feel the intense amount of heat that was radiating from between your legs. And Namjoon was not dead, at least, he hoped he wasn’t, because this was his definition of heaven and he wasn’t sure what was real at that moment. His member twitched impatiently in his pants. He felt a deep blush rise to his cheeks as you glanced up at him apologetically and slightly terrified.
Namjoon swallowed hard. His chest was rising and falling rapidly.
Think with your brain, not with your dick. Think with your brain, not with your dick. Think with your brain, not with your-
“I-I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s okay! I mean- it’s not your fault! I uh…” Namjoon stuttered.
“It’s my shoes.”
“Yeah they’re cute,” he said clearly thinking with his dick.
“I slipped and-wait what?”
Namjoon would have facepalmed if he had any blood left in his body and his arms had any feeling left in them but he settled for connecting his eyebrows.
“Sorry… sometimes I speak without thinking.”
Namjoon chose that moment to shift under you. Electric pleasure coursed into your belly through the thick fabric of his pants. You bit your lip to stop yourself from having a reaction but Namjoon noticed.
“Would-“ he cleared his throat and shifted slightly once again, you hissed, “would it be…better leverage if you had both your legs on the chair?” It was an invitation but it was indirect enough that he hoped you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.
It took a second for you to understand, but then a brief picture of you pushing his head into your chest popped in your head and understanding dawned on you.
“Oh uh… yes actually I- I think that would be much- much better.”
Had Namjoon heard you correctly? Had you just agreed? He must be dreaming. He had to be. But then you were adjusting, and your knee had joined your right at the backrest on either side of his thighs. You were sitting up so that he had to strain his head to look you in the eyes. Your chest was once again easily accessible to him yet he wasn’t sure if he could look.
“Can I ask you something,” you questioned, dabbing at his nose as an excuse to get closer to his face even though he was as clean as he was gonna get without water and soap.
“Mhm.” If he wanted, he could reach up slightly and kiss your delectable lips.
“You really think I have a great ass?”
Namjoon’s stomach twisted. Was this a trap?
“I um- I mean- not that I was looking per se but uh yeah...”
A pause followed shortly in which you balled up the napkin and threw it over your shoulder. Then you brought your attention back to him. Your cheeks were rouged and your pupils were blown wide. You were breathing almost as heavily as Namjoon was.
“What if,” another pause in which you let your eyes study his every feature, “I want you to look?”
“I-what?” No way. This was a wet dream. He was going to wake up any moment now and he would be in his bed with his sheets ruined. He just knew it.
You used the hand that had been taking care of the napkin to grab his wrist again and guided it to the swell of your ass. His hand molded onto the curve almost as if it was made to hold it and you clenched around nothing as he gently squeezed.
You let go of his face and grabbed his other hand. He didn’t fight you. He let you lead him onto your chest, the swell of your breast seeming just the right amount of big for him. It wasn’t huge but it wasn’t small. It was the goldilocks of breasts, he thought before he rolled his eyes internally at himself.
“Is this okay,” you asked him, suddenly feeling self-conscious when he didn’t move or so much as blink at you, “I don’t really do this kind of thing like- ever… and I understand if you want me to just back off-”
“No!” He pulled and pushed you closer to his body roughly with the hold he had on you.
“I mean… no. It’s fine I- I don’t do it often either. I’ve had sex- I meant just not casually? Not that there’s anything wrong with casual sex or anything, I’m not judging in the slightest I’m just saying that I don’t usually sleep around… not that sleeping around is a judgment-”
“Namjoon?”
“Yes?” He breathed, glad for the interruption.
“I got it.”
“Oh,” he chuckled, “okay… sorry.”
“It’s alright just… do you wanna-”
“Yes!” He was too eager. He knew he sounded it and if you could feel the way that his body throbbed you would feel it too but he couldn’t help it. Something about you was alluring in a way he’d never felt. It was like you were a magnet and he was metal. He couldn’t pull away if he tried.
It was true, Namjoon didn’t usually do things like this but it felt okay. This one time it felt like he NEEDED to sleep with you. Like it would all fall into place if he did. Usually, he’d at least buy you dinner and take you on a couple of dates. He shrugged off his thoughts. He’d deal with that moral dilemma later.
Right then, he was a little too focused on the way he could feel your nipple in the center of his palm.
He graced his thumb over the erect nub. You shivered with the minimal contact. Namjoon watched the goosebumps erupt all over your arms. So you had sensitive nipples? He stored that in the back of his mind. He did it again, this time putting a little more pressure on the spot and you arched into him.
Embarrassed, you bit your lips and giggled. Namjoon could write poetry about the sound on its own.
“It’s okay, Baby girl,” Namjoon said slipping a little too fast into his sex mode, “you don’t have to be embarrassed.
He leaned forward and kissed the skin between your breasts tenderly. Another wave of excitement ran through you.
Namjoon hooked his thumb into the neckline and pulled it back slightly. With a quick glance up to make sure it was okay with you. you confirmed by giving him a quick nod. He pulled it all the way to the side to reveal you weren’t wearing a bra. He had not expected that. But was he complaining? Hell no. he wasted no time in kissing the exposed skin. His lips were warm against your nipple and the little pecks were driving you crazy. Wow, if he was this good with his mouth up here… you could only imagine what he would be like a bit lower.
His tongue ventured out and licked a thick stripe on the bud. The warmth and wetness of his tongue contrasted heavily with the coolness of the store. He didn’t hesitate to trace your areola then noisily suck in your nipple. His hand was cupping under your boob to keep it in place. Your core was throbbing painfully. You needed him to touch you. You need to touch him.
You felt his hand pull the other side of your dress aside. The cold air nipped at your skin as his fingers went to work, tweaking and pulling lightly at the raised skin.
You moaned deep in your throat, moving your hips uncomfortably above his hips. You couldn’t take it anymore. You reached down and pulled at the neat bow on your hip that held the two ends of the dress together. It untied easily exposing your front entirely to him.
Namjoon felt the fabric give way. He pulled his lips from your chest and the small hickey he’s started to make and looked down in inquisition. What met his unexpectant eyes was your nearly naked body in full view. Bra absent and black, silk panties present. They wrapped intricately onto your stomach. Attractively.
“Damn am I lucky that your date was awful… look at this pretty little thing you have for daddy,” Namjoon groaned aa a flash of embarrassment hit him. He’d really just thrown that out there like a live bomb. He looked up at you, expecting your to be disgusted or have some strong, unpleasant reaction to what he’d said but-
“Daddy?… noted,” you said with a smile.
“Is that alright?”
“I’m a daddy’s girl so… I’d say it is.”
Perfect. How could this be any more perfect?
You grabbed the hand on your boob and dragged it down into your underwear. Namjoon swallowed as he felt just how wet you already were. You were gushing. With what felt like practiced ease, he found your clit and gave it a soft stroke. You were sensitive. So, so sensitive. A moan was ripped out of you instantly.
“That’s it princess… so good for daddy.”
A resounding smack vibrated in your ears. A gasp escaped your pink lips and your doe eyes were back.
“Do that again.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He spanked your ass again, harder. It pushed you further into his big hand. He rubbed your clit in fast tight circles. He wanted to see you come undone. He wanted to make you writhe under him, he wanted you to scream his name.
It wasn’t long before he had you on the cusp of what was going to be a fantastic orgasm. His dick throbbed painfully but he didn’t care. He was always a big giver and for you, oh God for you… he could do this all night if you let him. Anything to make that angelic face twist in what could only be described as pure pleasure. This is what it was like to make an angel his.
“D-daddy… I think I’m gonna-”
“Cum little doe… cum for me.”
A gurgled moan left your lips as you were thrust into the eye of the orgasm. Your body tensed and little stars began to dance behind your closed eyelids. You convulsed as Namjoon pushed his fingers into your heat mid-orgasm and continued to draw circles with his thumb. He spanked you again and again as you rode it out.
You shivered and twitched in his hold. Lewd, loud squelches left your core. It was embarrassing.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Namjoon growled. Your scent hit nostrils. He was going feral. God, he wanted to taste you. He spanked you one last time before he pulled his fingers tenderly from your heat. Almost instantly you collapsed into him. Exhausted from your experience.
“Whoa, hey Y/N, are you alright?”
You breathed against his wide shoulders and held onto his toned arms. In the back of your head you knew that you wanted to return the favor but you were so weak… you needed to recharge.
“Fine,” you breathed.
After a couple of seconds of rest you pushed yourself up and sat back on his thighs. His member was so hard that it almost hurt against your core.
“Your turn?”
Namjoon smiled, “Mmm I think I’m alright.”
You quirked a curious eyebrow at him, pulling your dress slightly over your chest.
“Don’t get me wrong, I want… you but I really should close up shop and it's getting kind of late.”
“Oh, right I hadn’t even thought of that.” You haphazardly tied your dress up again and pushed yourself off his lap. Namjoon mourned the loss of your weight on him but he knew it was for the best. He didn’t exactly have a condom or anything so it’s not like he could have had sex with you even if he wanted to but damn did he want to.
“Right… yeah I should go,” you agreed straightening yourself out awkwardly. When you were sure your breasts were well and covered you stepped around the counter to make your way out, that is until you realized it was locked.
“Could you maybe-”
“Oh yeah! Right, hold on.” Namjoon grabbed his keys then a box and a flat cardboard thing and turned towards you.
“Here, for the record, this is a record,” he said, holding up the flat thing you had seen earlier, “this is a record player,” he patted the box, “And this,” he grabbed a sticky note and a pen and stuck it to the front of the box while quickly scribing something down, “is my phone number. You know,” he paused, “in case you wanna learn about this jukebox thingy.”
He chuckled at your expense and only then did you realize your mistake. Had you really called the records jukebox thingies? What an idiot.
“Oh God, how much is all of this?”
“On the house, well,” he sighed looking at what your date had set on the counter earlier, “Really it’s on your date. Guess that Ass was good for something after all.”
In his hand was a one hundred dollar bill. Namjoon smiled.
“Just leave the keys in the keyhole. I’ll fix it later and don’t hesitate to call if you need any help.”
“I won’t,” you said, majorly excited that your date had gone so horribly. You waved at the cute man behind the counter. Dimples popping out at you.
As you walked towards the door, arms full, you looked down at the record he had given you. In big colorful letters, the word Dynamite was written. Huh, you hadn’t ever heard of this- was it a band? You were always looking to expand your music taste.
You turned the key to open the door and the bell jingled above you. You glanced over your shoulder once more. Namjoon was watching you leave. Without a second thought, you gave your own ass a light spank and sent a wink his way.
Namjoon felt his whole body convulse with need as he watched you leave. What a fucking dream.
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