#whats also funny is that one of the accounts said he was more greek which means oh hes not stupid like other thracians which is

[7amaspayrollmanager]

I actually decided to read some of the original sources of the third servile war (spartacus war)

#these historians are writing after the fact but its pretty detailed #im gonna watch some breakups in this show if they follow the basic account that spartacus army split #they mentioned crixus and onomaeus by name? i was like oh this is real ppl #these historians also said that he couldve marched on rome like it was a worry could u imagine #whats also funny is that one of the accounts said he was more greek which means oh hes not stupid like other thracians which is #extremely narcissistic bc it cant be like that other ppl who are not roman or greek are also as complex as you it has to be that #spartacus is special uniquely greek for his ppl #i actually got the accounts by reading the book i used for my thesis #its just greek and roman slavery a sourcebook by thomas wiedemann #u can get it at zlibrary #on to the 4th season #technically third bc i did not watch the second one bc it was a prequel series

[ignitesthestxrs]

I know you said you’ve gone back into it slowly but any book recs?

yes absolutely!! i have read some bangers lately tbh. also another thing i am trying to do is start uuuh reviewing what i'm reading so i will link a couple of those as well. but here is a sporadic collection of my reading enjoyments of the last year or so!

IF FOUND RETURN TO HELL // THE DEATH I GAVE HIM by Em X. Liu

em is hands down one of the best writers i know with prose that will punch you in the face and leave you asking if you can have another, please.

IF FOUND RETURN TO HELL is a queer found family novella featuring a done-with-this protag working in a wizarding call centre who abruptly comes down with a case of 'sweet angel baby boy possessed by demon hell child' in a broken magical healthcare system where following protocol is more important than like, helping people. so what is journeyman wen to do if not, you know, help anyway?

THE DEATH I GAVE HIM is the queer scifi hamlet retelling of my dreams, which is funny because i didn't care about hamlet until this book taught me how to. a thoughtful exploration on the nature of adaptation, death & immortality, and also what happens when your best friend is an AI and you wanna fuck him.

IN COLD BLOOD by Truman Capote the original true crime novel. still stuck in my truman blorbo moment. full review here

ASSASSIN'S APPRENTICE by Robin Hobb classic 90s fantasy with surprisingly emotional focus on the protag in a way i really dug. unhinged levels of accidental queerbaiting in a way that i enjoyed rather than despaired of. full review here.

PANDORA'S JAR: WOMEN IN THE GREEK MYTHS by Natalie Haynes a great overview of classical women that takes into account multiple sources and the way they have been read over centuries, and how the time in which a tale is being told affects the tale just as much as what the text of the story actually is. does a good job of walking the middle ground between like, historical sexism and the reflexive girlbossification instinct.

IN OTHER LANDS by Sarah Rees Brennan the queer harry potter offshoot we all actually deserve. portal fantasy with an acerbic main character who will save the world out of sheer spite because the world doesn't seem to think he can save it, or want him to do it even if he could. a genuinely lovely musing on the nature of loneliness, what abuse does to a child, how it's hard but possible to overcome the prejudices you learn when you're young, and how eventually, you're going to have to make the decision to let yourself be loved.

SHE WHO BECAME THE SUN by Shelley Parker-Chan truly i don't have the word for how fucking excellent this queer epic fantasy is. set in mongol-ruled china, this book is a masterclass in political intrigue, historical fiction, military fantasy, and also genderfuckery. feat. the kind of tragedy you see coming for several hundred pages and still takes your breath away when it hits, and also lesbian fisting. anyone who says books based in history can't get queer can get fucked.

A MARVELLOUS LIGHT by Freya Marske for a total 180 in mood, here is your queer romantic fantasy set in an Edwardian England that is reflective of the fact that like, queer people did in fact exist in Edwardian England. A lighter fare that nonetheless will hit you right in the heart and leave you delighted that a) there's a second book out now and b) the third one is coming soon. also Freya is an Artiste when it comes to writing good sex scenes, which

i belatedly realise it seems like i'm focusing on in this post but i just! like a queer text that tackles queer sex with nuance and interest and the horror and/or joy of the body, and the above authors are all fucking masters at their art (which includes, but by no means is limited to, writing about fucking)

#hannah answers asks #book recs

[siderealscribblings]

Hello. I hope you're okay with me dumping every ounce of my adoration for you The Games of Divinity series here, because I simply cannot stay silent any longer. I read the whole thing yesterday in the span of fifty three minutes at one a.m. with my eyes barely open and a blanket up to my chin so it was truly one of those Authentic Fic Experiences TM. I'm obsessed. I'm enraptured. I'm in love.

Your character analyses of Neuvillette and Furina? Chef's kiss. I am throwing them into a glass jar and shaking vigorously to watch them bounce off the walls. I am chewing on them like a four year old with unlimited access to a bag of Starburst and every flavour in their mouth at once. I am gripping you by the shoulders with tears streaming down my face because you have ruined every fic I read for the next two hundred and sixteen business days. Nothing will ever compare. Sanity is a long lost dream. Your AO3 account isn't a prison, it's home.

If you can't already tell, I adore your work. As a writer myself, I get gender envy while reading it. Except its writing style envy. Your use of italics for highlighting humour is wonderful. The shift in dynamic across the years with Furina and Neuvillette is masterfully done. It's hard to ship Neuvifuri because to me it's only appealing in one of two scenarios: an AU where Neuvillette knows, or one in which he begs pitifully for Furina's forgiveness after trapping her and putting her on trial without knowing what she was going through. Your fic is easily the best example of the former I've ever read. The only reason I haven't flooded your inbox with Kudos and AO3 comments is because my account is acting up and I had to read as a guest.

I love every chapter. Like actually. The first one? Seeing their initial attitudes towards each other was fascinating. The one where Neuvillette gets The Horny? Literally so funny and somehow hot as hell at the same time. The chapter from the POV of the Gardes? Hilarious and an incredibly creative way of showcasing their relationship from the perspective of an outsider. On that note, the Gardes themselves are such colourful characters, I think it's amazing how you went to the effort to give everyone such a distinctive personality. Also the scene with Xiao and Zhongli was scrumptious, that one line... "Zhongli placed a hand on the back of his neck, thumb gently kneading the soft spot where his neck and shoulder met like a man scruffing an unruly cat." That's so cute to me. Your Honour. They are so cute. And Neuvi being all baffled by himself for trying to intimidate Zhongli was endlessly amusing, especially when you said something along the lines of '"Neuvillette didn't mind being spoken of like a dog in heat, but he drew the line at barbs being aimed at Furina." You nail the dynamics every single time. Wild.

The internal conflicts of both Furina and Neuvillette are delightful as well. Furina's guilt for needing Neuvillette versus Neuvillette wishing Furina would let herself need him? Collapses. I am bleeding from multiple stab wounds. It's so eiohrohsiowiourwhrf. They're so vdhkfhoewirdkf. Neuvillette being awed by her humanity versus Furina wishing she could properly hide it. Neuvillette wishing he could share her altruism but knowing he would send a fleet to die in Furina's place even if she despised him for it. Banging my fist on the table. The intrinsic protectiveness and the guilt of needing to be protecting. Clutching my head in my hands. Tearing out my hair. Shuddering like I'm attached to an electric chair cranked up to the highest voltage.

I would suffer the trials of every hero from Greek mythology to read more of it.

Thanks for reading! Love hearing your thoughts on this; I think one of the big appeals about this pairing is crazy devotion that can happen between two people lying to God's face. It's like the greatest hits of every ship that's tickled my brain over the years and I'm glad I have an opportunity to play around with it.

No Neman Lions will need to be slain for the next chapter (probably)

#writeblogging #the games of divinity

[yonemurishiroku]

What do you think of Jason Grace x Alabaster Torrington, it could be a nice relationship

This is for both anon and @nicosavior456 since Nov 2023, bc I failed to get it tgt sooner.

In regard to Jason/Alabaster, I think it's an indeed interesting ship.

Hear me out. These two have surprisingly many crossings. The first that comes to my mind is that there is a chance Alabaster knows of Jason - as far-fetched as it sounds.

I'm talking about Alabaster's sword of Imperial gold. Imperial gold is the main weapon of Camp Jupiter. I've always wondered how Alabaster, a betraying Greek demigod of the Titan Army, managed to get his hands on such a weapon.

Which then leads to the second crossing - Jason toppling Kronos' throne on Mt. Othrys.

This poses as a perfect excuse for a scenario wherein Kronos (and in general the Titan Army) is aware of Camp Jupiter, and as one of his high-ranking followers, Alabaster should, too.

Taking both in account, I can practically make a headcanon about Alabaster stealing the Im. gold sword from Camp Jupiter's armory, how he and Jason could have encountered in a hypothetical infiltration into said armory, how they could have come across again in the advancing of the Mt. Othrys. i'm probably delusional, but you get what I mean.

tbh it would make quite a compelling story, you know, the praetor and the thief. sort of like a locked-up princess and the piper that comes across and tells her of the wonders beyond the bar. Ok maybe less romantic and more resentful. Alabaster as this enigma that, literally, sneaks into Jason's life and somehow turns it upside down. He comes back every night, magically bypassing Terminus' shield, curses Jupiter and his whole family, destroys everything Jason's been taught to believe in and then leaves in a flash of green light like a torch going out at the first sudden breeze. His visits always end up in fights, and yet Jason finds himself looking forward to them, as if looking for a breeze of fresh air - and things just devolve from there.

Look me in the eyes and tell me it doesn't sound exciting.

What about their dynamics, then?

An interesting thing is that, fundamentally, Alabaster is what Jason might become. It is the same way that Jason and Luke parallel each other? - I suppose.

Alabaster is a bitter one turned traitor. At that time, Jason should have been bitter if only he just allowed himself to feel. Jason is what Alabaster despites, pities, and hates to become the most - a loyal soldier to the mafia gods. Whereas Alabaster's existence clashes with everything Jason (at that time) is taught to believe in. He's against the gods and wants to bring down the Olympians instead of worshipping them.

He isn't what Jason would have considered one of them, but he has what Jason doesn't have and doesn't realize he needs yet - the courage to resist.

A spectacular turn of events would be that Alabaster manages to teach Jason the freedom to choose - the freedom they have been robbed of, the lack of which has been ensuring Jason as a useful soldier to Jupiter all this time. And what might come out of that? - perhaps, Percy would have an equal child of the Big Three as his enemy.

Also. It just occurs to me how funny that is that Alabaster... actually has a quite amicable relationship with his godly mother, whereas Jason is just estranged. But as it turns out, Al is the bitter one.

All in all, these two are such fun! 🤗 Hope you enjoy my delusions

#jason grace #alabaster torrington #alabaster c torrington #jasonbaster #thunder magic #torringrace #pjo #hoo #toa #yone rambling #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #over analyzing

[spacerockwriting]

Weekly tag wednesday!

Thank you Sky @skylerwinchester @dynamic-power @energievie @stocious

which character from any media would you like to have as a father?

I don't know??? Ya spacerock's got daddy issues.

if money, laws, time, and effort were no object, what animal would you want to have?

Giraffes! They're so derp I love them.

what is your Chinese takeout order?

Idk, i don't eat much chinese food. Like, hardly ever. I mostly just eat the fortune cookies they have there.

what's your favourite emoji? Uhh, I'm loving all the ones from the gallafic club.

would you rather have a library, greenhouse, or home theater in your house?

Home theater. Film major here. Love that idea. Also, we just ironically got a green house yesterday for my dads tree obsession.

what childhood tv show do you think of the most fondly?

Hmmm. Rugrats maybe? Had a shit ton of rugrats dolls and a rugrats birthday party. Rugrats or Blues Clues probably.

what was your tumblr like when you first joined?

I've been a tumblerina for a while now. Since 11? Then in college I moved to an RP blog, with my main, and a LarryStylinson blog. Had that until mid2013 when Lance and I went to a different South Park RP, along with my main &Larry. Once we broke into Indie RP I created a few more South Park RP blogs, then once Lance passed I slowly stopped using the RP account we associated with each other. Made my HP RP in 2014 after SP shit was getting too cliquey, then just kind of sidebloged all my blogs from there for being lazy. Reattempts at SP RP had attempts, but nothing beats 2013 so -shrug- Nothing will ever beat 2012-13 where the community was there, Gallaclub is the only thing coming close <3

what clothing style do you love but don't feel compelled to replicate yourself? Super dressy maybe? I do my best to wear whatever the fuck I want but I'm just, suits and shit aren't gonna be a thing I think. Except like, my wedding if that were to happen.

if you were plopped into a fictional world, which one would you know the layout of the best?

Maybe South Park? Hogwarts, too, but lbr fuck JK.

what is your favourite piece of art?

Like ART ART? I like Van Gouh's starry night. My mom went to the interactive exhibit and I love that. (She's also got some starry night socks and stuff. Plus she had a shirt with a van on it that said van go.) I also like Andy Warhol's stuff? Also love seeing greek statues but forever anxious I'm gonna be a clumsy spacerock and knock them over.

do you have a water bottle? what does it look like?

I've got a cup i bring to work that's Disney 100 and it changes color from blue to purple in the cold. It usually has mountain dew in it. Also I have a REAL waterbottle and its got Shibas on it and counts the level of water to 2 liters. But I hoard cups, always getting souvieneer cups bc im that person.

what fanfic trope is a quiet fave?

Found family is a quiet fav, and sometimes fluff. But mostly I want angst, I want plot.

do you carry a daily bag? what does it look like? what's the weirdest thing in it?

So I carry a bag for work, which has headphones, wallet, work badge, phone, some tangles, squishy giraffe, pens, 2 books: one notebook thing and Heartstopper Volume 4 is in it, and random junk that really needs to be removed lol. Outside of work I just wallet phone the end.

if you had to ship Mickey with another Gallagher, who would it be?

Hmmm maybe Lip? Or Carl would be funny too, but the Lip and Mickey enemes would be funny.

what is a fanfic trope you didn't expect to like and then very much did?

Hmmm. I dunno. AU's maybe?

Do you think s11 Mickey can still carry s11 Ian?

Yeah, if he tries to|has too. But it's very awkward and Ian gets a kick out of him trying.

who got custody of the killing bat when they sold the house?

The OG? Probably Carl. But they all get a killing bat as a housewarming gift for the nostalia. Every house gets a Gallagher killing bat, even Fiona's house in Florida.

I'm a day late so tagging everyone else.

#comet rambles

[moa-broke-me]

Y'know, I gotta say, it's been really weird having a fanfiction going for so long.

I mostly say this because I tend to abandon projects kinda quickly, but also because I'm making a lot of revelations about minor characters that I didn't usually give a second thought. Octavian and Drew, specifically.

Like, I mostly just thought of them as generically insufferable people at first, and while they certainly aren't pleasant... Well, I can't really speak for Octavian, sure his mom may have abandoned him (I'm not sure if that's canon I just read that somewhere) and sure that's sad, but he's also a power-hungry, manipulative, pretentious bully. I do feel sorry for the guy, especially since he's just a kid, but so is practically every other character in the series, and for the most part, they all seem to know better. So I'm kind of ambivalent about the character. I'm not entirely sure he deserved to DIE, especially at such a young age, but I'd rather that over a rushed, forced, and unearned forgiveness and subsequent acceptance by the group, which is probably what Rick would've done with him had he lived all the way to the end.

If I were to give him an arc, let's say Nico does intervene when he sees Octavian's cape caught in the trebuchet, not because he's forgiven him or to prove that he's a better person than Octavian or any of that junk, but because if he dies, he escapes the consequences of his actions. Sure, maybe he'll go to punishment, but that won't teach him anything, it'll just make him miserable, and the people he's hurt won't be able to truly hold him accountable in a way that matters.

Once the dust settles, he's exiled from New Rome for his failed coup, understandably, but CHB lets him crash in the Apollo cabin, mostly through Mr. D's suggestion. He's gone mad with power, Dionysus can sense it, and he knows what happens when you turn people like that loose to roam the streets.

He hates it there, he hates the greeks, and he hates Will especially, calling himself his 'kin'. He has no kinship with this hick, aside from perhaps a drop or two of ichor in his veins.

I also think he should get bullied after the camp learns about what he's done. It's realistic, I think, and he deserves a taste of his own medicine.

The funny thing is, Will actually sticks up for him. What a fool he is, so devoted to him even when he's given him nothing but snide remarks and stabbing glares.

Maybe it's the guilt of being treated so well when he's treated others so poorly, maybe it's the realization that this is what it feels like to be freely, unconditionally loved, or maybe it's both... But he's willing to give the greeks another shot.

To be clear, not all the characters forgive him in the end. Less consider themselves on good terms with him, and even less accept him wholeheartedly into their circle of friends. And that's totally within their right. Like I said, I'm very ambivalent about the character, I don't think he deserves the perfect happy ending that most of these characters do, at least not without some major fucking development that would have to take an entire solo book AT LEAST. Even that ambivalence is a more favorable opinion of him than I used to have, which is just 'irredeemable asshole'.

Drew, though, is a lot more sympathetic than that. A lot more sympathetic than Rick seemed to realize. Like, she felt betrayed, it only makes sense that she'd put her guard up, that she'd develop a hard edge, a shell if you will. Granted, a shiny pretty pink shell, but just as hard and stubborn as any other. And yes, I'm referencing Botticelli's Venus just a little bit, y'know the one where Venus emerges out of the clam shell? I'm not sure what I'd do with her, all I know is that she deserved better. She deserved more development, she deserved an arc, and Rick, to the best of my memory, never gave her one. And that sucks.

What makes my fanfiction weird specifically is that both of these characters, in the beginning, were written just to be one dimensional high school bullies, because that's essentially how I saw them. And once I started seeing other people posting about them in a positive way, at first I thought it was weird and just kinda ignored it, but then I was like... Hey wait a second, this makes sense, weirdly enough. I never thought about it like that before but... You're right!

So now, I have to find a way to integrate that into my fanfiction. The only problem?

A lot of the shit that makes these characters so interesting didn't happen in this fanfic. There was no war, no death (ok a little death), no world-shattering consequences or magical powers. It's a mortal high school AU. So I have to find some other way to make these characters be just a smidge more sympathetic, while also staying true to the original characterization. Like ok, they're bullies, but bullies bully for a reason. I also don't wanna uwu-ify them too much and make them into sad wet blorbos (we have enough of those). They're still unapologetically mean and selfish, but they have reasons behind that now.

Anyway all this to say, read my fanfiction if you want to I'm really proud of it.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/315247323-daddy-issues

#longpost #long post #lots of text #pjo #drew tanaka #octavian #nico di angelo #will solace #rick riordan I love you but wtf

[udaberriwrites]

Annie! I'm baaaack! For this third ask...

Tell me about Hades - specifically, Hades, Dusa, and Persephone!

Dusa

1: sexuality headcanon

She's canonically ace, which was great! I headcanon her as heteroromantic as well :D

2: otp

My girl is in a QPR with Zagreus and living her best life 😎

3: brotp

With Megaera! As I said before their friendship make sense to me. Meg's direct approach and self-confidence would likely register as safe for Dusa, especially because she'd know that Meg doesn't suffer fools lightly, so if she chooses to hang out it's because Dusa is worth it.

4: notp

I don't outright hate any ship, but there are none that call me either -- see 2.

5: first headcanon that pops into my head

She has a little cubicle up in the rafters where no one else can find her if she needs a few minutes to herself. It is lovingly decorated and very cozy.

6: favorite line from this character

"Friends, for all eternity."

7: one way in which I relate to this character

How adamant she is about earning what she has when it comes to her work; her dedication is admirable.

8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character

Being unable to hold a long conversation with Zagreus without fleeing... I just wanna give you nectar and be your friend T-T

9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

Cinammon Roll in Chief at the House of Hades, it says so in the administrative chambers somewhere.

Hades

1: sexuality headcanon

I jus can't see any of the Greek gods as portrayed in Hades caring all that much about gender and sexuality as mortals understand it.

2: otp

Probably a romantic relationship with Persephone and a QPR with Nyx. But Hades/Nyx/Persephone is great, as is Nyx/Persephone with Hades as their supportive bff.

3: brotp

With Charon, on account of him being the only deity that isn't constantly trying his patience. Also, with Cerberus, because he's the bestest boy.

4: notp

Zagreus and Melinoë. I know,Greek myth didn't shy away from that at all, but the game makes a point of having Zagreus not be his own uncle AND great-uncle so... let's keep it that way xD

5: first headcanon that pops into my head

He keeps snacks on one of the drawers on his desk and waits until no one is looking to indulge. It is the worst kept secret in the house (Hypnos regularly pilfers some whenever Hades leaves)

6: favorite line from this character

"Be still. These waters... teeming with Poseidon's river denizens. That one there, before me... it's been taunting me, I think, for quite some time." <-- Inner dork alert

7: one way in which I relate to this character

Going in to work is hard sometimes xD

8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character

Him losing repeteadly to his son... until you unlock Extremer Measures 😵

9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

Probably more problematic fave than cinammon roll. He's not winning any "Father of the eon" awards,that's for certain.

Persephone

1: sexuality headcanon

Same as Hades, gender is very much not a factor when it comes to attraction (she still enjoys peeking at Achilles' pectorals from the corner of her eye, she isn't blind, thank you very much)

2: otp

Same as before, any Hades/Nyx/Persephone combination is awesome.

3: brotp

With Nyx and/or Hades if not romantic. Also, with Hypnos, because the house can really use someone who's able to lift everyone's spirits and she finds him funny.

4: notp

Again, with Zagreus or Melinoë, they are her kids after all.

5: first headcanon that pops into my head

Skelly was Demeter's lover and thus her father. After dying, he made a pact so he could keep watch over his godly family.

6: favorite line from this character

"My heart soars, knowing you live. Then it breaks, that our time together was so brief." ☹️

7: one way in which I relate to this character

She's getting the whole family back together or so help her--!

8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character

Did she and Zagreus talk or just stare at each other in awestruck silence for literal hours in some of those cutscenes??

9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

Has people fooled into believing she's the cinammon roll of the triad. She raises more hell than the other two combined.

#ask game #hades game #dusa hades #persephone #headcanon #otp headcanons #thanks for the ask!

[thusjuniperus]

history of the latin alphabet I guess

Act I: Early Alphabet As the Neolithic era gave way to the Bronze Age, people were increasingly living in cities and needed some kind of record-keeping. The human brain might be able to remember that you owe Eshanak a goat in exchange for twenty measures of grain, but when you're running a bustling metropolis' Ye Olde Goat Shoppe and have to track goats payable and goats receivable for hundreds of people, the grey matter starts to falter. So ancient accountants were like, "I shall draw these signs to represent goats and grain, alongside tally marks. As well, I shall come up with a mark for Eshanak's Feed and Seed Store, with whom we often do custom," and you're off to the races. More and more symbols get invented and standardized, and pretty soon you can say things like "I, the Pharaoh of Kemet, have erected this grand obelisk in commemoration of my reign," instead of just counting goats.

Logographic writing systems have advantages and disadvantages. On one hand, you don't necessarily need to know the spoken language. You see the sign for sun, you know it means sun. A French person writes down "98", you don't need to know what "quatre-vingt-dix-huit" means. On the other hand, you need to memorize a symbol or combination of symbols for like every goddamn concept in existence. And if you don't know a symbol, you can't "sound it out" on your own.

Many people did not like this, because it is nice to be able to use written language without having to basically get a PhD in it, so simpler systems arose. At one point, probably inspired by similar systems that were floating around at the time, some Semitic day laborers in Egypt decided to think of every consonant they could, all the buhs and duhs and puhs and tuhs, and copy down a hieroglyph for each one. "D is for DOOR," they said. "Where I have drawn a DOOR in the text, do not say the entire word DOOR. Instead, make only the initial DUH sound." Thus, they only had to memorize a couple dozen signs.

This alphabet was taken home by the day laborers to Canaan, where it later spread all over the place via some Canaanites we know as Phoenicians, who loved sailing new places and meeting new people.

Intermission: Vowels In many Semitic languages, due to reasons I don't fully understand, word roots lean pretty heavily on consonants over vowels. We, for instance, might have a word like "like", where if we wrote it LK we wouldn't know if it was supposed to be like or look or lick or lock or lake. That happens in Semitic languages, but it's less common -- you can often get by without vowels. Still happens, though, so they had the idea of having some letters pull double-duty, like our "Y". Is it a vowel or a consonant? Well, funny story, if you sit around making "yuh" sounds to yourself, you can eventually reach the conclusion that it kind of does both. Try dragging out the "y" in "yes", you get "eeee-uhh-ess". Try saying Ian and the yuh shows up in the middle ("ee-yan"). Same thing with oo and wuh. This is more relevant to modern Semitic writing, but was somewhat present in the original Phoenician and probably influenced which letters Greek repurposed as vowels.

Act II: Greek Greeks NEED their vowels. Can't live without them. The Phoenicians handed their script over like "This is a Bet (house). It used to look more like a real house floorplan, but we simplified it for faster, neater writing. This is a Dalet (door)," and the Greeks were like "Beta, Delta, got it. And this one's Alpha? And this one's just 'E'? A simple E -- an e 'psilon', if you will?" and the Phoenicians were like "uh, it's actually [Glottal-stop]'aleph and He," and the Greeks were like "Yeah, that's what I said?" and voila, there are vowels.

Some other changes the Greeks made include:

Many symbols flipped due to being written left-to-right instead of right-to-left. Also, Greeks love symmetry as much as they love vowels, so tended to make symbols more symmetrical.

Glottal stop consonants 'Alef and 'Ayin became vowels Alpha and O (the latter later split into little O, Omicron, and big O, Omega). One of the two H noises (and much later the second) became the vowel E. Iota was used only as a vowel, since they didn't have the consonant yuh sound.

They did have both oo and wuh sounds, and wanted separate signs for them, so Waw was split into Digamma (consonant, head of the symbol is bent to the right so it looks like two Gammas) and U (vowel, drawn as "Y"), which was added to the end of the alphabet and later named "simple U"/Upsilon (or Ypsilon). Then later they were like "Huh, guess we don't use that consonant sound anymore? Wine is just 'ine'?" and got rid of Digamma. But not fast enough. The Etruscans cribbed it first.

Greeks kept both Kappa and Qoppa as kuh sounds (there was a difference in the original Semitic). Later they would realize this was dumb and drop Qoppa--again, not fast enough.

Greeks [long sigh] took in Samek (suh), Tsade (tsuh), and Shin (shuh), and then had trouble telling them apart. They dropped Tsade/San entirely. They presumably misattributed the name Samek to Shin, which they called Sigma and gave a suh sound. Then they (the eastern Greeks, anyway) decided the now-nameless O.G. Samek symbol should make a /ks/ sound (why???) and called it Xi.

There were a lot of different regional variations of the Greek alphabet at this time, which were later eliminated as the modern Greek alphabet solidified. For instance, the western variant, instead of turning Samek into Xi, took it out entirely and threw a /ks/ sound written as "X" in after Upsilon at the end of the alphabet. This western variant is the one the Etruscans inherited.

Act III: Etruscan My knee-jerk reaction is to talk about how the Etruscans fucked it up, but that's not fair to them. They did a pretty good job establishing the alphabet in Italy. It's not their fault they didn't make a distinction between guh and kuh. It's just…

"sorry for accidentally inventing the letter C" "some crimes can't be forgiven"

One fun thing they did that I like quite a lot: Instead of cluelessly imitating the clueless Greek imitation of the Semitic letter names, the Etruscans just put each sound up alongside a vowel, essentially making our current "el, em, en, oh, pe" pronunciations. But there was a rule! Consonants you can drag out, like ffff and ssss, got put after the vowel. Consonants you make once and they're done, like p- t- k- (called plosives), got put before it. Modern changes in pronunciation and some letters getting dropped/added have messed this up in several spots, but it largely holds true. In case you've ever wondered why the alphabet isn't sung Le Me Ne Oh Pe.

Also, Digamma pronounciation has moved from wuh to vuh. The Romans are soon going to change it to fuh because this letter is a neverending nightmare.

Act IV: Latin Let's check in on the alphabet line-up. 𐌀 𐌁 𐌂 𐌃 𐌄 𐌅 𐌆 𐌇 𐌉 𐌊 𐌋 𐌌 𐌍 𐌏 𐌐 𐌒 𐌓 𐌔 𐌕 𐌖 𐌗 A B K/G D E F Z H I/Y K/G L M N O P K/G R S T U/W KS

Romans: "Hey, does this letter make a /k/ sound or a /g/ sound?" Etruscans: "Yes." Romans: "Cool, alright. Let's take all three k/g symbols and make convoluted grammar rules about which of them gets used based on the following vowel."

These rules gradually faded, with K mostly being used in Greek loanwords, Q just being used before U, and C being used for everything else. Romans didn't use the Z sound much either, so they gave it some thought and decided the reasonable thing to do would be to remove it from the alphabet, under the rationale that--well, actually, the reason recorded in Roman histories is that Appius Claudius (of the Appian Way) hated the Z sound because he thought it caused you to make the look of a death rictus, but I'm sure it was that first thing. Anyway, there was fortunately a different Roman dude around this time who said "Why don't we put a downstroke at the tip of this C, and that one can be our /g/ sound?" so they moved this new symbol "G" into Z's old spot.

The letter that makes a puh sound, originally sort of a crook shape, started to be drawn curled in tight enough that it looked like P. But "P" was already the symbol of the letter that went ruh; so, to distinguish them, they added a leg to ruh ("P") and made "R". I feel like there was a more graceful and less confusing way they could have done this.

Update on Waw's demon children: Claudius (a different one, this guy's an emperor) tried adding an upside-down F to the alphabet to represent the W sound, but it didn't take. Sorry, buddy, you tried. Oh, and the Romans have taken Upsilon (Y) from Greek. "Wait, don't we already have an Upsilon?" No, the Latin "Y" lost its "stem" a long while back and is now normally drawn like U or V. It still makes a U/W sound. Sorry, I saved that update for the "Waw's demon children" section. "But that's still an Upsilon, though. Why do they need to re-import Upsilon drawn with a stem when they've still got Upsilon drawn without one?" Because Greek Upsilon has evolved into a weird vowel that bears more phonetic resemblance to I, and the Romans want to call it "Greek I" ("I Graeca") and use it in their cool Greek loanwords. FINE, I GUESS. At least they brought Z back home with it.

As the "classical" Latin era ends, the alphabet looks like this. A B C D E F G H I K L M N O P Q R S T V X Y Z

Intermission: Lowercase Over time, Greek and its derived alphabets made "miniscule" letters, messy little scribbles that were much faster to write than ALL CAPS. People now use the miniscule forms for most writing, but have developed specific grammatical rules to use majuscule for important things like beginnings of sentences, names, etc.

Act V: Catching up to the Present I'm not going to list every weird-ass letter adopted by every European country, but here are some notable things that happened that help explain the modern English alphabet.

In various Romance languages, C, instead of being pronounced /k/, started being pronounced like "tsh"/"ch" or "ts" when used before the vowels e/i/y. Wikipedia says this inexplicable nonsense is called "palatalization". In English and a few other languages, these sounds later softened to "s". Instead of instituting any kind of reform here, we just decided C would continue to make both noises. Thanks, I hate it.

Simultaneously, G palatalized as a "dzh" sound (think d + the sound in the middle of "vision") in front of e/i/y. At least this one gave us the apple of discord that is the GIF debate.

[deep breath] Waw's descendents include F, U, and Y. F is still F. A doubled U started being used to denote a wuh sound, though sometimes the runic glyph Wynn was used instead. U and V split so that the curved version is the vowel and the pointy version is the consonant. Y (formerly "Greek I") is still a vowel, though by the time of Middle English its sound has merged with normal I ("ee") entirely; in Middle English, Y started being used as a consonant in place of obscure letter Yogh for a "yuh" sound (perhaps because the sounds ee and yuh are related); it was also sometimes used by printers in place of thorn (þ), hence "ye olde".

People had long been putting a fun little curvy tail on the letter i when they felt like it needed some pizazz. In the 16th century, some Germanic people decided to split these into two letters, with the original being the vowel (ee) and the curly-tailed variant the consonant (yuh). Well done! This long-overdue innovation spread through northern Europe into Baltic and Slavic alphabets, and then slammed headlong into the goddamn Romance languages that decided to use J as a "dzh" sound because that's how they pronounce "yuh" now I guess. (Speakers of Romance languges, and also British people who say Tjchewsday, and also I suppose all of us who say "didja": Why do you keep cramming tshzjch sounds into everything?) This divide in "J" pronunciations exists to this day.

The default Latin alphabet now looks like this. A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

#apologies for the godawful font/formatting on the chart #linguistics #alphabet history #alphabet

[reincarnatedonthefirst]

The two-hour session with the new client went well. He is a very decent person. He didn’t want to get straight to the sex when he arrived. He wanted to talk and establish a little bit of a connection first. I appreciated that.

He, like my other clients, took the time to read through my website and blog posts. I’m still so surprised to find that clients want to get to know you.

Anyhow, we spent about 25 minutes talking before we got physical. I really enjoyed talking to him. He asks a lot of questions. He’s inquisitive but not in a creepy way. I felt very comfortable with him.

I found out we grew up in the same city and where he went to school. I noticed a fraternity branding on his arm and we had a funny discussion about this because I didn’t know the name of the Greek symbol and that was just offensive to him. Some black frats take their Greek culture very seriously. I was a being a little facetious (I regret that now) and told him I didn’t know anything about fraternities or sororities. Well, he’s very much into it. Thankfully, he isn’t one of those insufferable black frats.

He’s a bit sadistic during sex I kind of like that. He’s also into a little BDSM (he wants to be peed on and he likes to spank). He also likes prostate massages which is great because I really want to learn.

He is very well dressed and he is a professional. He was wearing a button down gingham shirt. I think there’s a joke in sex worker communities that if a guy wears a gingham button-down, best believe he’s got money but I’ve never encountered one personally.

Anyway, while we were warming up to one another, he said that he is a nice guy and he pretty generous to those in his “inner circle”… I don’t know if he meant sex worker inner circle or just people in his life that he appreciates and loves… I made a joke and said that I need buy a ticket to his inner circle and we had a good laugh about that.

Anyway, he said he likes to bring wine to sessions. I told him that I’ve been off alcohol for close to two years and he said he will bring my favorite Whole Foods treat next time and asked me to send him a photo of the packaging.

He said that when he sees sex workers, he likes for that to be his sanctuary, an escape from his home life (he admitted to being in a sexless marriage and he wife runs out of bed after he gets his nut). That was good to hear. So helpful. Normally, my hate for men comes out at the wrong times and I need to learn to keep that in check when I’m with clients. I need for this client to keep returning because I think he may be useful in my life.

I need to bring out that generosity in him, though. I need to do that by first realizing that I am worthy and highly deserving of his generosity. I tend to downplay my own positive attributes and beauty when I am with clients and I need to stop that. I need to be a little more entitled.

Also, he said that because he’s married, he actually prefers providers who have private incalls (apartments). I had no idea so many girls in my city used their apartments as incalls. I am seriously considering using my house to host this client…

The entirety of their payment will go to me.

He’s very professional and dresses really well. He’s the kind of guy that I would prefer my neighbors see coming and going.

Of course, the main issue is preparing my house for him, because… ew: my bathrooms and kitchen are gross… and the house smells like mildew (I think it’s because of certain weeds in my lawn).

Anyway, yeah - he said he much rather go to a private incall because he has a lot to lose and needs to keep his shit on the super low. If using my house as an incall is what it takes to keep him, I am on board.

My other regret is that I got distracted by my phone as he was dressing to leave and I should have been more attentive. I was having trouble cashing out my CashApp account and I was freaking out. I need to just do that admin stuff after clients walk out the door.

#me #clients

[meanwhileinstasiville]

Ashland was once known as a little chicago

And today’s camera system, both use and misuse is directly inspired by it, if not somehow connected to it.

On the way here I had a “choice” between the street-patrol-guy now wearing a yellow coat, and the “warrior rv” sentry guy from mountain park. Said sentry can summon ms13 aligned ems backup in anticipation of threats, which makes Ashland peaceful seem more and more like calm before the Chicago storm.

There’s a Sicilian (or was) house on the way to this library with the token “Kennedy” Wanted poster visible in the entryway to the house. Any trace of Kennedy gets the Chicago treatment as of JFK; even the many houses my grandfather owned as on Clark street. Now with a Latin King colored car parked prominently out front, and a woman who stands outside in matching colors to smoke. And this is how it is since ever. Anywhere a Wexford county might be, you find the Latin Kings to “remediate” the problem. As funny as it sounds, my old boss’s son succeeds variously at college and other things at my late friend’s expense and also my own, on account of Chicago. An entire county library budget went into the very room I’m typing in; resembling a room out on the family ranch as near as was possible at the time of development. A federal budget on a federal building and at the exclusion of every other city in the county. That’s Chicago style.

So back to the cameras. There’s a social anxiety case who shows up as a sort of expy of one of my former boss’s sons, who always seems to appear at 2:09-2:11pm on the dot. When there appears to be a risk of injury, he appears between the external library cameras, and the 502 alley address camera where it finally meets the road; as a related rate problem ensuring his “cartel” style safety on the basis of immediate consequence (because the camera at 502′s driveway and the library cameras meet at a PBX outside of city hall). I get a kick out of all of this because I don’t know what it does for anyone. The gap toothed guy who seemed to always sit on terminal 9 or 12, wearing “gay stalker lee” army green (a new uniform for ms13 aligned people around town, since they decided to make themselves visible) , now can be found endlessly clearing his throat on 5, decked out in Latin King purple. 

(The “law” of they demand things and people supply them, as it were, as things have gone downhill around here)

They have failed to notice that MS13 is the new them. Where the room once was “filled” with conversations about “the new system vs the old system” and all sorts of people discussing how they have and what they have, now it echoes “english this” and “british that”. Always a single voice at a time in a very large room. I’m guessing that’s supposed to be some kind of a qualifier, or rather, a disqualifier. But who knows.

Edit: The social anxiety stalker is named “Jerimiah” because he’s an expy of the son of an “almighty latin king”, contrasted against the “almighty vice lords” who used to take up and table meetings in a bar below a Greek fast food restaurant. (They use religious themes to get around the FBI, which *is* a distinction without a difference, because is equally unable to regulate either one of those groups, religious and/or faux religious).

Edit: takeuchiitsuka #8710 B&W photo in response. You *still* can’t regulate them, the FBI.

[percabethfeelsfandom]

How I’d rate the Gods/Goddesses(riordanverse)

This is my rating based off the way Rick Riordan portrayed them in the Riordanverse. The traditional myths have been taken into account but do not make up my entire opinion. 

Hestia:

10/10 would give my life for this goddess. In all aspects of the word, this goddess is a goddess. I want a novella of her watching over the hearth and watching out for her family and the heroes. I imagine her being a very comforting presence and warm like a hug, and maybe this is me projecting my mummy issues but I just want her to hug me. 

Dionysus:

A solid 7.35/10 for Mr D. Naturally he was a bit annoying, but we were never under the pretence that he he was meant to be anything more than what he provided and I respect that. Him caring about his kids at camp, and staying relatively loyal to his wife is always a plus. And I like his relatively humble beginnings being a hero and becoming a god and then not causing that much trouble in the series. Unlike some other pieces of shit. 

Hermes:

4/10. Mans had no right blaming Luke’s thirst for mass genocide on 16 year old Annabeth. Not cool man. Not cool. He gets the points he got because he did genuinely care about Maia, and Luke, but he lost the rest of them by having a blatant favourite (who literally caused so much destruction). However I do still like his line about family in sea of monsters and never giving up on them. Nice meaning. But he was still a shitty father and only intervened out of self interest most of the time. 

Aphrodite:

2/10. I hate how low I have to rank her. But my god did Rick do her dirty in his depiction. Just the misogyny, the lack of depth, and the untouched potential she has as a character, as a goddess, THE OLDEST GOD/GODDESS and Rick really made her throw rose petals around the battle fields on one of (what was meant to be) the biggest fights of the riordanverse. Absolute robbery. If I’m not mistaken as well, she was a huge contributor to the issues and obstacles percabeth went through and we do not Stan. HOWEVER, I love her as a goddess normally, and what she could represent if she’s written properly. 

Hephaestus:

8/10. I have no qualms with this man. I too prefer the company of inanimate objects to people and get stressed about social interaction. And I too have mummy issues. So me and Hephaestus are on the same page. Let this man tinker away in his little bunker. He never went out of his way to make things harder for demigods, and was helpful when they came to him for help which I can also respect. (Point deduction because it was on his land that Bianca died…if I’m not mistaken). 

Ares:

-12/10. This man was introduced as a bully, and gives off the vibes of every phobic, known to humanity. I do not vibe. I do not agree. I do not stan. ALSO his motorbike seat is apparently made from "Caucasian human skin”!!!!!!???? We as children never questioned this? We just went sure aight move on?! Please this man has the biggest small dick energy if I ever saw it and I despite him so much. Mans was also never helpful. Ever. I don’t think. I think Mars was better than him though so I’ll give him that. 

Artemis:

9.99/10 all hail queen of the lesbians. Mad respect to this woman. In what she stands for, who she protects and in her actions. She’s what I embody when I stand up for myself in fights and when I speak to have my voice heard. I like Rick’s depiction of her and I love seeing her and her hunters pop up in his books. Would love a couple books on the hunters and their adventures. Also I love archery. And I’m biased to the moon because I love the night so she gets extra points for all of that too. 

Apollo:

Prior to Trials of Apollo 7/10, after TOA 9.90/10. Yes it’s a big jump but my god did Lester grow on me. Prior to TOA he was pretty average. He was funny, always provided a good laugh to the plot and was always helping the demigods which I loved. But I know he’s an asshole full of himself so I can’t give him any higher than that until he had some character development, which we got in TOA (specifically after Burning Maze). And I really like who he is now and the type of character Rick shaped him out to be. In the myths he’s a big creep, and I still stand by that idea, hence why he doesn’t get a full 10. 

Athena:

3.5/10…ughhh I hate to say this. But part of it is the same reasoning I gave about Aphrodite. I just have so many issues with the way she’s portrayed and it’s not accurate to what I believe in my heart she should represent. And as a child of Athena, I feel like Rick then did her entire legacy dirty. She has her moments, but since I can’t even fully recall one right now, it just proves my point. As a goddess as a whole though, what she represents is everything I aspire to be in life. She’s my entire aesthetic of hard work, creativity, and strength and grit, without taking away of being a powerful female. Zeus’ lead strategist like shit, Rick could have done so much. But he did not. And I am thus sad about it. 

Demeter:

6/10. I have no issues with Demeter. Kinda boring. I think that’s what most of the fandom thinks as well. She just didn’t get enough screen time or development. I have no attachment to her. I think the powers that she has, and has passed on to her kids is cool though so there’s that. But in the series as well she doesn’t do much. She also (initially) doesn’t fight in the battle of Manhattan so maybe I’m slightly bitter there. But yeah, i’m indifferent. 

Hades:

8.99/10 Okay so hear me out I know this man gets so much bad rep in the myths and that’s part of why he doesn’t get a full 9. But I really really love the way he’s depicted in the riordanverse, especially with his entire arc with his kids/specially with Nico. Like literally one of my favourite quotes In the entire series is “my children are so rarely happy, I would like to see you be the exception.” Out of the gods listed here (and excluding Dionysus), he acts like a genuine parent to his kids and tries. And like there’s issues, sure, but he works on them. And since so much of the first series is about how the gods are neglectful, seeing him change and seeing him fight for Nico is my everything. 

Poseidon:

7.1/10. Honestly this feels too high considering mans was nearly If not just as bad as Zeus in keeping it in his dam pants. His points come from treating Sally like the queen she is, and trying with Percy (albeit too little too late but I can see the minimal effort). That being said, he’s really shitty in the myths so I can’t really give him anything higher than this. He’s barely a dad, and sees Percy more as an ally than an actual son or human being that needs attention. I like him more in Fanon and the way that I write him lmao because I humanise him. But I won’t lie he’s dilf material, and I still like rick’s depiction of him. 

Hera:

3/10 I’m surprising myself with this rating because tbh I might even push her to 4.5 just because she’s so consistent in her own goals and agenda, and that perseverance is very admirable even if it was at the cost of some of my favourite characters. She was very much two faced though and fucked around stuff that she should have stayed out of. Her hatred for literal children though is a bit problematic. I have no attachment to her but I admire how much she just wants a family. However she just really needs to assess how she approaches that since it’s a bit messed up.  

Zeus:

-5/10 I really don’t Zeus, his character, him in the myths, everything about him. He gives off the vibes of a man who abuses the power that he was given. And I don’t like that. It makes me uncomfortable and I don’t like him at all. His treatment of his children, of the demigods, and the way he governs Olympus. Not a fan. I could rule Olympus better and I’m a mentally unstable, serotonin deficient 20 year old with a hyper fixation on greek mythology and Minecraft. However despite not liking his character, I think Rick does a great job at depicting him accurately to how he was in the myths. 

#rick riordan #riordanverse #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #percy jackson #zeus #hera #hades #poseidon #demeter #hestia #dionysus #apollo #artemis #aphrodite #hephaestus #hermes #athena #ares #mount olympus #olympus #lester papadopoulos #percy jackson and the lightning thief #percy jackson and the sea of monsters #percy jackson and the titans curse #Percy jackson and the battle of the labyrinth #percy jackson and the last olympian #the lost hero #the son of neptune

[annonymouslyblonde]

The Monster Was Mortal

Fandom: PJO/HOO

Pairing: Percy x Annabeth

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

Trigger warning: Descriptions of child abuse

Rating: T for language and description of child abuse

Summary: Set about two months after TLO. Instead of going back to camp or California for a long holiday weekend, Annabeth stays at the Jackson/Blofish apartment and ends up learning something new about Percy.

A scream filled the small apartment, waking Annabeth at a quarter till three in the morning. It was a scream that she knew well and still sent her heart plummeting to her toes. Percy. She snatched her knife from the bedside table, prepared to single-handedly take down whatever monster was tormenting him. The door hit the wall with a thud as Annabeth dropped into a fighting stance. But there was nothing there for her to slash at. In the dark, it took a moment for her to see Percy huddled in the corner of his room. With no monster to fight, she sheathed the dagger setting it on his desk.

"Percy," she asked, frightened by the way he stared straight through her. She dropped to her knees in front of him and tried to take grab his shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" He shouted and pushed her hand away, curling further into his corner. "Don't hurt me."

Annabeth recoiled, hurt and scared. Why would he think she'd hurt him? She was at a loss for what to do. Sally quietly came into the room having also been woken up with the screaming. Waking up to her son's nightmares was unfortunately not a new occurrence. Annabeth slid back to sit against his bed giving Sally space. Numb, she watched the woman gently cradle Percy's face turning his gaze toward her. The vacant look in his eyes made Annabeth queasy.

“Sweetheart,” Sally gently called as if she were speaking to a cornered animal. “You're okay. He isn't here anymore. He's gone and he'll never hurt you again. We won't hurt you okay? Annabeth isn't going to hurt you.”

“Annabeth?” he asked finally seeing her clearly. She sank to her knees beside Sally and reached a hand out hoping he didn't smack it away this time. He clutched her to him, shaking and crying.

Annabeth thought it must have been a quest vision, a bad one, but Sally knew the differences in her son's nightmares. After a light kiss to the top of his head, she stepped out of the room knowing the conversation the pair needed to have. Percy told her weeks ago of his intention to tell Annabeth about Gabe one day, but the relationship was still new despite all the things they had faced together, despite knowing each other for four years. He was still a little afraid and embarrassed by what happened to him no matter how many times Sally assured him it wasn't his fault. It broke her heart her baby had to do this at all.

His sobs slowed to sniffles against her shoulder. Realizing he must have woken up half the building, his cheeks flushed.

“I'm sorry I woke you up,” he mumbled, trying to pull away. Her fingers laced through his dark hair in a soothing gesture, keeping him close to her.

“No, Percy, you don't have to apologize. But why did you think I'd hurt you?” She tried to keep her voice even, but the pain and desperation still seeped in. “I would never hurt you, not on purpose. You know that right?”

Percy of course did know that. There were plenty of bruises and scrapes from sparing practice, but neither would ever intentionally inflict pain on the other. His grip tightened around the fabric of her shirt, painfully aware there would be no walking this back.

“It wasn't you I thought would hurt me.” Silence permeated the space as the couple clung to each other. After another calming breath, he admitted “I thought Gabe was still here.”

“Gabe? Smelly Gabe?” she asked not understanding why Percy would have a nightmare about him. He nodded mutely against her collar.

Suddenly, Annabeth realized she didn't know much about his former stepfather. She knew the nickname Smelly Gabe and that he was no longer in the picture, but nothing more. Her mind was turning, processing the information that Percy was afraid, deathly afraid of this man.

“You thought that Gabe was here and gonna hurt you.” It came out as a statement instead of a question. The pieces all clicked together in Annabeth's mind. Her sweet, kind, wonderful Percy had been abused as a child.

“He used to hit me.” He confirmed needing to finally tell someone. For years, he tried masking the trauma through sarcasm and jokes. Letting Annabeth see this side would be a big step, one he didn't know how she'd react to. The carefully crafted persona he had hidden behind for years would never fit again around her.

“A lot,” he continued. “If something didn't go his way it was my fault somehow. He lost his poker game or get fired from a job. So he'd take his anger out on me. With his fists or a belt. Sometimes beer bottles.”

Annabeth's vision blurred into swirls of red. Blood red. Gabe's vile red blood spilled for even touching her boyfriend. She had heard of the metaphor of seeing red but had never experienced that type of all-consuming rage before. Her whole body tensed looking for the threat, ready to cut it down. Instead, she clutched Percy closer assuring herself that he was safe in her arms. She would make sure he was safe.

“My nightmare was about him. He came back and had me down on the ground kicking me. And suddenly it was like I was six again and couldn't do anything but try and protect my head.”

Bile rose in her throat as she clinched the back of his shirt trying to control her rage. Six. Percy remembered being kicked by a full-grown man at six years old. Annabeth had faced a lot of monsters in her sixteen years, but nothing as vile as this despicable mortal. If he was willing to kick a six-year-old, she couldn't bear to speculate what he may have done to Percy as he got older and more willful. She wasn't sure if mortals could end up in Tartarus, but she prayed to Hades this one did.

“It's kinda funny,” he laughed slightly manic against her neck. Annabeth couldn't see anything funny relating to this situation, but she didn't interrupt choosing instead to place an encouraging kiss on his temple. “I can't even remember which monsters gave me what scars, but I remember every mark Gabe ever gave me.”

She wanted to scream and lash out at whoever let this happen to him but instead decided to redirect the anger into comfort. Subconsciously, her fingers found a scar that ran the length of his bicep, gently tracing the puckered skin.

“Monster,” he murmured, and she knew this would be how she could get him to open up and tell her the details.

“He's a monster too,” she insisted. The beast of a man was more monster than the ones they fought with celestial bronze in her opinion. Monsters were born to hunt and kill demigods. This man chose violence and pain.

“Fine, Greek,” he conceded too tired to argue, especially not when he agreed.

She nodded approving of the term. Her fingers drifted down to a cluster of small circular marks on his forearm. The muscle stiffened under her touch, but he told her how the scars came to be.

“Cigarette,” he said, confirming her suspicions. “I didn't dump his ashtray the night before so he said I'd be his new ash tray.”

“How old were you?” As soon as she asked, Annabeth wished she hadn't. It didn't matter how old he was. Putting a lit cigarette out on someone of any age was horrendous.

“Four,” he whispered, burying his face into her shoulder. She very well almost stopped there unsure if she was strong enough to hear this. But then Percy shuddered and fisted the fabric at her back. He needed her then, and she wouldn't back down. He needed to unburden himself, and he was choosing to confide in her. So she continued, her fingers dancing across his skin until she came to a scar. They spent an hour like that until all the visible scars were cataloged.

Her hand trailed timidly down to the hem of his shirt. She had seen scars on his back and chest before at camp, chalking it up to monster attacks, but now she questioned everything she knew. When he gave her the smallest nod pressing his head down into her shoulder, she slid her hands under his shirt. At first, she simply pressed her palms to his Achilles heel hoping to lend some strength and comfort. After a long moment, his grip on her shirt lessened, and she continued her search across his back.

As he opened up at each gentle touch, the flood gate widened, rushing to purge his soul of the poison he had bottled up for years. Just as she thought there wasn't room for any more scars, he guided her hand back to a set of slash marks across his ribs that she had missed, where the broken edges of a beer bottle had cut into the skin.

Once the last scar was accounted for, they continued sitting on the floor of his room wrapped in each other's embrace. Her hands lay clasped at the small of his back as he continued telling her about the abuse, about the incidents that didn't leave a visible mark on him. He told her about the time Gabe knocked him unconscious after tossing him too hard into a wall. And the time the man broke his nose by throwing a book Percy had left on the kitchen table before a poker night. The words flowed from his lips like a spring rushing to leave as quickly as possible. Stories he had long forgotten came to the surface, ones he hadn't even told his mom about. The way her fingers gently kneaded into his lower back and the frequent kisses she pressed into his hair comforted him in a way he hadn't felt before. Once he finished telling her about what he knew Gabe would do to him for wrecking his car, Percy didn't quite know what else to say.

“Annabeth,” he asked, quiet and meek. The brokenness of his voice pierced her heart. “Please. Say something,” he begged.

“I'm gonna murder him,” Annabeth confessed with the confidence of a girl who had stared down Titans and won. “I'm gonna kill him for ever laying a hand on you.”

“You aren't ashamed of me? Hero of Olympus and I let some mortal bast-”

Her lips fell on his silencing him. He clutched her to him, kissing her with a desperation he hadn't felt since Silena had called telling him to bring a healer for her during the Titan War. His hand gripped her pulling her tightly against him and pressing into her own lower back, the same spot as his Achilles heel. The warmth of his hand against her exposed skin was the most comforting gesture she'd ever experienced making her wonder if that was the feeling she gave him every time her hand touched his back. Slowly, she backed out of the kiss stroking his cheek, her intense gaze penetrating his soul.

“You didn’t let him do anything. You were a kid, Percy. He was an adult, a parent figure in your life, someone you should have been able to trust and feel safe with. And, gods, you were just a kid. My stepmother never liked me, but I never felt unsafe with her. I can't even imagine.”

She pulled Percy back to her, clinging to him. Someone had hurt her precious seaweed brain when he was defenseless, and it made her sick that she hadn't been able to protect him. Anger couldn't quite cover the feeling boiling in her blood. Nine years of combat training and she wanted nothing more than to use every bit of it on this scum.

“I know you have questions,” he sighed reluctantly pulling away to look at her. Her face was flushed from anger, and tears swelled in her eyes. He hated being the one to put that look of mixed concern and anger on her beautiful face. “It's okay. I owe you answers.”

For once, and she would never admit it aloud, Annabeth wasn't sure she wanted answers. Her mouth worked up and down, searching for questions that wouldn't come.

“You don't owe me anything. You don't have to say anything you don't want to.”

“I want to,” he assured her, taking her hands in his. “I mean, I want you to ask whatever you want to know.”

“Why did you never tell me?” she whispered, asking the question that hurt the most. It wasn't that she thought he owed her anything, but after opening up to him, to only him, about her own family life, it stung to think he hadn't trusted her with this. As soon as she thought it, she swallowed the idea guiltily. It was selfish to think she was entitled to know that part of him just because she had opened up to him about her own trauma. She did think now, however, he would have been comfortable enough with her to tell her.

“How do you even start a conversation like that? 'Hey Annabeth, it's been a month since I survived my death date, wanna hear about my bastard ex-stepfather that used to beat the shit out of me? I think it's a good second date conversation.' Doesn't exactly pair well with dinner and movie, does it?”

“Percy-”

“I know,” he sighed wearily giving her hands an apologetic squeeze. “I know. I should have- I just. I never knew how. I almost told you in the zoo truck but then we stopped by the time I got the courage. And when I got back again, well he was gone. It was over. I wasn't trying to keep it from you, I swear. It just never came up until now.”

Another thought, a worry, suddenly made her stomach drop. She dropped one of his hands to traced his cheek.

“When I've punched you or teased, I wasn't. I mean I hope I didn't-”

“Annabeth I know you were just messing with me. I never took it as anything but that, promise. So don't you dare stop calling me Seaweed Brain now, Wise Girl.” He gave her a smile that melted her worries. Of course, he would be trying to make her feel better in a time like this.

“Well, in that case, Seaweed brain, we should probably get off the floor,” she suggested.

Until she mentioned it, Percy hadn't registered they had been sitting on the floor of his room the entire time. Somehow, it felt like an appropriate place for the early morning confession, oddly intimate and undisturbed. But, his back didn't necessarily agree, stiff from sitting cross-legged on the floor for however long had passed. And if he was stiff even in his invincible skin, he knew it must be worse for Annabeth.

She slowly pushed herself up before offering a hand to him pulling him up with her. After urging him into his bed, she crawled in beside him and pulled him back into her arms, not quite ready to let go. Her fingers raked through his smooth locks almost habitually. It truly amazed her how easily things came with Percy. The repetitive motion satisfied her ADHD enough to let her mind kick into overdrive and process the last few hours.

Percy had been through more than she could even imagine, more than ever should have been asked of him. Being the key component in a Titan war couldn't be enough for the Fates. Suffering through four years of non-stop quests wasn't bad enough. Her sweet, caring boyfriend had to go through such a harsh mortal childhood to add to the already crushing pressures of being a demigod. Suddenly, her fingers stilled as another question came unbarring to mind. He called her name, nervous at how suddenly she tensed.

The girl spared a nervous glance to the hall before asking, “Did your mom know?”

“I think she suspected a time or two, but I never told her. Gabe said he'd kill her if I ever told anyone. I wasn't taking that chance.”

“I don't understand why she would let him stay if she even thought he might be hurting you,” she murmured, glancing nervously again toward the door.

Nothing about it made sense. Annabeth loved Sally, even wishing to have her as a mother or stepmother instead, and she knew the woman adored her son. Allowing Gabe to stay when he was hurting her son was something Annabeth couldn't rationalize with the Sally that made cookies whenever she came by and fussed over them both after every quest.

“She was protecting me from monsters,” Percy quietly explained. “Gabe, his smell-”

“Repelled monsters. It hid your scent,” she finished for him. “I've read about that. Some mortals are so monstrous themselves, their scent can actually repel monsters. That's how you stayed hidden for so long even as a big three kid.” The confused anger morphed into marvel at Sally's brilliance, protecting her son how she could. Even as terrible as it was, the abuse was likely the only thing that kept Percy alive all those years.

“He would hit her too,” he said in defense of his mom. “Broke her wrist once that I know of not that she'd tell me it was him. I only know of a few times, but I'm sure she got it worse since she had to always be here with him. I tried to get him to stop, but there wasn't much I could do when I was at boarding school. And once I knew I was a half-blood, knew how to defend myself. Well, she turned him into stone. Remember Medusa's head? Dad apparently returned to sender. ”

Suddenly Annabeth had a deeper appreciation for her boyfriend's mother. She always knew the woman was strong, but this was a different level of strength. Annabeth hoped one day to be half the woman Sally Jackson was.

As his breathing evened out, she pressed a kiss to his head and tried to detangled herself to go back to bed. As she slid her legs over the side of the bed, his arms wrapped around her painfully tight pulling her back.

“Stay with me” he whispered timidly. She hesitated though.

“Percy that was your mom's only rule for me,” she protested, but the sad, broken look undid her completely. And it would be well worth the lecture just for that bright smile he flashed her when she told him to move over. His head nestled into the hollow of her shoulder as she continued stroking his dark hair. He was asleep in no time with his arms wrapped around Annabeth securing him to this better time.

And when Sally found Annabeth curled protectively around her son the next morning, she didn't have the heart to scold them at breakfast for breaking her single house rule. After the events of the previous night, she was glad Percy had found someone so fiercely protective as his girlfriend. She didn't have to worry about her baby boy when Annabeth had his back.

Now, of course, that didn't stop Sally from teasing the pair when they emerged from his room later that morning holding hands.

A/N: So this story has two pieces of art that helped inspire parts of it, one by WindByFire and the other by burgy so shout out to them for producing such amazing art!

If you'd like to see the pieces, they are posted on my IG by the same username (mainly because I am new on tumblr and don't know how to properly post and credit art here yet). Definitely go check out all of their artwork!

#percy x annabeth #percy jackson #percy and annabeth #annabeth chase #percabeth #percabeth fluff #pjo fanfic #pjo fandom #pjo stuff #writing #fanfic

[gukyi]

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.  

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #bts fake dating au #w: the coffee shop contract

[rightsockjin]

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.

Read the rest here!

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[daisychainsinthespring]

The Snowball Effect: Bucky Barnes and Darcy’s Metal Arm.

Darcy Elizabeth Lewis-Barnes had some of the best childhood friends a girl could ask for. Sure they were now scattered across the world, pursuing their dreams and getting into varying levels of trouble, but they had stuck closely to tradition. They were also part of the reason Darcy had met her husband, Bucky “Come on doll, we’re literally married now, please call me James” Barnes. To be fair, it had really started with a bear, themed after Bucky himself because why not model a bear after a WW2 hero? Stranger things had happened. At least that’s what her parents were convinced of. It would have been embarrassing to let them know the truth, that because her friends sent her explicit gifts inspired by the famous Sergeant Sexy, said Winter Sexbot had taken notice of her. It would be even more mortifying to tell them that finally, after much modelling (of the aforementioned gifts) and many dinner dates, he had put a ring on it. So yes, Darcy had some of the best friends a girl could ask for.

Although, to be fair, now that Darcy had the real deal (and how sweet was that?), she had been pretty sure it would all stop. How could her friends even hope to compete with the effects of his smolder (oh god, his smolder)? Darcy had clearly underestimated them, because it appeared they could (much to Bucky’s displeasure).

A few weeks previously, Darcy had been complaining of her husband being gone so often to one friend in particular, Emma (who currently worked as a marine biologist down in Sydney). For her part Emma had listened and very much been a metaphorical shoulder to cry on. But it wasn’t like she had a superhero husband herself, and so her advice wasn’t the most helpful (however well intentioned it was). Jane too (her work bestie and Science Overlord) was little help. After all James, while a super soldier who could carry her one armed over his shoulder, was not a God.

So Darcy suffered. She dealt with sleepless nights and pent up frustration while Bucky was away on missions. Which wasn’t so bad, as he had been kept to shorter jobs until he was deemed fit for long term, infiltration-esque missions. The only problem was that he had passed those examinations with flying colours and would now be going out into the field for months at a time, doing what Winter Soldiers do best (aside from giving the best back rubs known to man). Darcy had thought that was the end of it, her friends believed they had helped, and her husband didn’t know about her issues. Darcy really needed to learn that she was routinely wrong.

Bucky had continued to check the mail, it would be brought up to their apartment in the wee hours of the morning and without fail, he would look it all over in the kitchen. Darcy would usually get up some time in the middle of this procedure and go join him, sitting together at their little dining table while she waited for her coffee to kick in. On this particular morning though, their routine had changed. Darcy did not wake up (due to the intense nature of the previous night's activities), and Bucky went through his routine alone. It also happened that on this particular morning Darcy received a package from Emma.

When Darcy finally did come to, she left the bedroom and shuffled slowly down the hall (because ow, she was sore, not everyone had super healing James), finally coming to an abrupt stop upon reaching the kitchen. She didn’t know if she actually wanted to go in, based on her husband's stormy expression. In fact, her body seemed to notice that, based on his glare, this might not be the best place for her at all and had started to subconsciously back up. That was until she heard him growl (because apparently Sergeant Stone Age was a thing now) out a harsh, “Don’t. Come sit. We need to talk”.

Darcy Elizabeth Lewis-Barnes was a brave woman. She had tazed a god, regularly faced off against the famous wit of Tony Stark, and married The Goddamn Winter Soldier (trademark pending, courtesy of the previously mentioned Tony Stark). But the phrase “we need to talk” never boded well for anyone in a relationship, so she shakily went to her usual place across from him, and sat.

Bucky leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as his eyes narrowed, “Am I not enough for you?” he asked, sounding more broken and insecure than had probably been intended.

Darcy, to her credit, was actually able to form a coherent response as her panic gently subsided, “What? No. Honey you’re perfect. Literally cut from marble, the stuff of Greek myth perfect. Why would you even ask that?”.

Bucky nodded, seemingly satisfied with the voracity of whatever she had said (super spies and their super ways, she really shouldn’t dwell). Moving to reach under the table, he picked up the box by his feet, “Your friends sent you this,” he said as he opened it, revealing what appeared to be a miniature model of his metal arm, “and I thought you were hiding something from me”.

Darcy inspected the arm, not fully understanding what it was for a moment. When she finally remembered her conversation with Emma she barked out a laugh, “Oh honey no, this, you see, Emma and I were talking”, Bucky raised an eyebrow in response, prompting her to continue, “Right. You want more details, details are good. Communication is good. Okay, well we were talking right? And I mentioned how, with you being posted on longer assignments, I was feeling lonely. But I didn’t want to tell you, because superhero business is literal apocalypse aversion, and wife pleasing isn’t”. It would appear that it was now Bucky’s turn to look guilty. He ducked his head, folding his arms in his lap, and started shaking? No that wasn’t shame, that was laughter. The asshole found this funny!

“Oh dollface, you only had to tell me. I don’t have to go on those longer missions, I just thought you might want some time away from me.” he glanced up from under his eyelashes and damn her if she didn’t know exactly what he was doing with his puppy dog eyes and innocent expression.

“Honey, your missions are important. Please don’t go changing them on my account” she replied evenly (see Jane? She could be mature!).

James got a sour look on his face, startlingly similar to that one time she had made him try Toxic Waste, “But dollface, don’t you just want the real thing? I know my hand is much better than whatever this...thing...could do” he breathed out, looking at her as if to dare an objection.

It could never be said that Darcy Elizabeth Lewis-Barnes backed down from a challenge. Instead she straightened up, lifted her chin in utter defiance, and retorted, “Well dear, I don’t know. We haven’t tested this new one out yet. I’m sure it could work just as well as your arm, maybe even better. It is a new model after all”.

At his silence and blank stare she wondered if perhaps she had finally won an argument against him. Except, oh no, he looked predatory again, like a hunter ready to pounce on its prey, and given the lack of other people in the room that prey was her. Nothing good ever came from that look, she still had the lovebites from last week's battle of wills to prove it.

“Hmmm,” he mused, placing his hand on his chin, “what I’m hearing is that we need to test them both out, so I can prove you don’t need this...toy?” he asked, or rather, demanded. James didn’t actually wait for an answer as he dove across the table and swept his darling wife into his arms, walking back to their bedroom with Darcy held safely over his shoulder.

Darcy Elizabeth Lewis-Barnes knew when to pick her battles, and she also knew when to compromise. James didn’t stop going on longer missions, but he made her promise to get rid of the arm. And she did, get rid of it from the apartment that is. It wasn’t kept in their home anymore, instead resting in her drawer at work. If she took it back with her on particularly lonely nights when he was away, well it wasn’t like he needed to know.

#bucky barnes headcanons #wintershock #darcy lewis #winter solider fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #darcy lewis fanfiction #darcy lewis imagine #marvel #mcu fanfiction #sebastian stan #kat dennings

[angelkurenai]

Imagine Dean using pick up lines on you because he likes you and wants to ask you out but you keep taking things too seriously, not getting his flirting.

“Police says that while they couldn't find the object of the murder it is believed to be a-” Sam had been eagerly talking about what he had discovered but all words died out in his lips when he noticed that his brother wasn't paying even the slightest attention to him “Dean?” he asked instead “Dean are you even listening to me? Dean!”

“Wha- huh?” he blinked, his eyes finally falling on his brother but only for a short amount of time. He glanced in your direction once more, though, quickly after that. His eyes even followed your form as you kept looking for the books you needed.

“Sorry Sammy, I was-” he cleared his throat “A bit distracted.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Sam snorted but his amusement was running low, especially after all this time.

There was nothing funny he could find about his brother's attempts at flirting with you and you failing to understand the most simple pick up line the older Winchester could come up with. Amusing it was at first, yes, because no matter how hard his brother tried there didn't seem to be a single thing he said that would convince you he was indeed flirting with you. Why, Sam couldn't understand. Maybe it had to do with Dean having been flirty from the first day and thus making you think of it as nothing more than just another trait of his. Or maybe it had to do with you always being too busy to help them out with any case that you took everything Dean said either too seriously or not in consideration at all. Whatever the case, it all made you look incredibly clueless.

And as that, Dean would always end up frustrated or caught on a dead end that would leave him at a loss for words which was always fun if someone took into account the fact that Dean never had had this kind of problem with a woman before you, not like any woman before you could even be compared to you – that Sam was sure Dean would swear his life on. But his brother being in love with you didn't make things any easier, if anything it only took away some of his usual confidence and calm to the point it made it even funnier. Or at least it used to, the first couple months. Right now, Sam's patience and amusement were at minimum. Especially when his brother refused to pay attention to anything else but ways to get you to go out on a date with him or, at the very least, acknowledge that yes he was flirting with you and yes he was actually interested in you in more ways than one and hopefully that you'd let him know if you felt the same or not. That was all that was in his mind, day and night, and of course Sam could no longer find that amusing. There was hardly any joy in trying to solve the case all alone, really, because Dean one way or another kept you more busy too.

“Will you just give up already?” he couldn't help the huff that left is lips, voice low so that Dean could only hear him “I don't really think there is any use in-”

“Sammy!” Dean's eyes widened, as he looked back at his brother “Whose side are you on? Of course I'm not going to give up. She'll- She'll get it at some point.”

“Some point. Yeah. I hope not when she's about to have grandchildren though.”

“No of course not. Much sooner, but- Even if it's then, it's gonna be our grandchildren. Mind my words, you'll see it one day.” he said so confident and, mostly, sure that it would be the case that Sam couldn't help but scoff a small laugh.

“Hey, how about-” Sam sighed “Have you ever thought of, oh I don't know, taking another approach and just sitting down in front of her and tell her in all seriousness about your feelings and ask her if she feels that way too? You know, like normal people do? Through straight-forward talking and-”

“Are you crazy?” Dean whisper-hissed at his brother, casting a glance in your direction to make sure you were not listening to them which, judging by the distance and the focused look on your face, you were already immersed in your search and the case itself more than anybody else in the room. More than Dean would ever be for sure “You know I don't do that kind of thing! It's- it's far too complicated man and I- I'm just- I'm not good with... words, you know that. And when it comes to (Y/n), hell, it gets ten times worse.”

“Right.” this time Sam did smile in amusement “I almost forget. You lose every ability to speak and breathe like a normal human being.” he tried to conceal a laugh at the memory of you calling Sam in worry when you had thought Dean was about to have a heart attack the last time he really – too fed up with you taking him too seriously or being so oblivious – had tried to tell you how he felt.

“Yes and don't make fun of it because it will be no fun story to tell your future nieces and nephews about how their daddy died so young and-”

“Alright, let me stop you right there for a second because-” Sam shook his head, stealing a glance at you as well – far away from them still “Too many things have been said in one sentence that just- they really make my brain cells hurt. You know that in order to have kids with her you need to ask her out first. And in order to ask her out you need to tell her how you feel too.”

“Yeah, I know. I know. Isn't it all so easy for you, Sammy?” he rolled his eyes at his brother before he sighed “But just- Bear with me, for once-”

“Once?” Sam's eyebrows shot up as he scoffed a laugh “What do you think I've been doing for the past ten months Dean?”

“Yeah, alright. Alright, I get it. It's taking too long, but- Really, this time it's going to work. I've got it all figured out, Sammy!” he said with a grin so bright and hopeful that, Sam knew, wasn't going to last for long.

“Oh really?” he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair “So you mean you've come up with something more catchy than the last hm- What was the number?” he frowned deeply in though “Oh yes, 58 pick up lines. You think that this time, the 59th time it is going to work? That it will get her to realize you are seriously flirting with her because you're interested in her and not being that's your default mode?”

“My de- what? No man! I mean, yes. I mean- No, it's not my default mode and yes it is that good of a- Wait, it hasn't been 58... Has it?”

“Trust me, I've been keeping count of it. It has been at least 58, not including the couple times I wasn't there to hear you. Honestly, I'm more surprised at you being able to remember all those so well than her not getting that you're trying to-”

“Trying to what?” this time Sam didn't get to finish his sentence not because of his brother, but a third party and the person of the moment as a matter of fact.

“(Y/n), hey!” Dean said so... casually, but also in such a forced way, that Sam had to keep himself from wincing. You paid it no attention though. Raising an eyebrow at him you ignored it completely and placed the books on the table “These are all the books I could find on Greek mythology and gods that I haven't gone through before, so they should hold an answer to the case. So-” you sighed and added “What were you guys talking about?”

“Oh nothing in particular. We just started speaking about the case and then it moved to more... general topics.” Sam said with a tight smile, glancing at his brother who – no surprise – was preparing himself to try his luck again.

“...Alright.” you said slowly, pouring more of your drink into your glass “If that's what you-”

“Hey, (Y/n)-” Dean started and Sam almost held his breath as he prepared for what was to come “I didn't get to tell you, but you look great today!”

“Uhm thank you?” you frowned but didn't question it any further.

“No need.” he brushed it off with a casual wave of his hand “I mean it. Really!” he grinned as charmingly as he could “I mean, are those jeans new? Because wow, they look amazing on you!”

“I think I told you I was going shopping though, didn't I? Anyway-” you shook your head “Thank you, they were 30% off. That's always a good deal.”

“The sweetest deal would be another one though. You see-” he smiled, leaning forward on his elbow as you sat next to him “I'd prefer if they were 100% off.”

Alright, Sam had to admit, despite what he had been preparing himself to hear that one was actually very smooth – maybe more confident than Dean had ever sounded before too – and there was a chance of it working. But he wasn't going to judge things too quickly, instead he only held his breath harder than before in anticipation of what you were going to say. And really, maybe much like any other time, this could either go really well for Dean and you'd finally get to realize he was flirting with you or-

“Uhm thank you but-” you laughed casually “You know that can't happen.”

“Wha- Huh?” Dean blinked and Sam was almost on the edge of his seat.

“Because the shops can't give away their products just like that!” you scoffed a laugh as if it was the most simple thing in the world, taking a sip of your drink “That's just a terrible way to run a business. Everybody knows that.”

Sam couldn't help but snort at that, barely holding his laughter, and tried to cover it up with a small cough.

“I-” Dean started, blinking several times but completely ignoring his brother before mumbling “That's not what I- Nevermind.” he cleared his throat “I actually wanted to tell you something more-” he started again and Sam's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

If he really was going for a second try, then he definitely felt confident today.

“Hmh sure, go ahead.” you said with a sweet smile, chin resting on your palm.

“See I felt like I needed a change in my life and I was wondering if you could help me with that.”

“If there's anything I can do, then sure, anything for you. You know that.”

“Well, that'd be great actually. Because you see, you're actually the only person that could give me a hand with this.” Dean said so smoothly that Sam really had to keep himself from looking to surprised or even more letting that thought carry him away and thus prevent him from hearing your reply. He knew that whatever the case, that would be priceless much like the previous one.

“Yes, of course. Anything as I said.”

“Well, I-” he shrugged with an almost cute smile as he looked at you “You see I wanted to spice things up a bit, and-”

“But you know I'm allergic to chilli.” you cut him off with a frown and a tilt of your heard.

A cough from Sam as he tried to hide his laughter.

“Wha- No.” Dean shook his head “No, I meant in the bedroom.”

“Doesn't matter in which room I eat, Dean, I'm still going to be allergic to chilli!” you said matter-of-factly and also so casually that Sam almost forgot to hide his amusement. Almost. Because with a pointed look from his brother he tried to conceal it with some coughing.

“That's not what I was trying to say, (Y/n), I-” he cleared his throat once more, trying to regain his composure as he straightened his back a bit “I'm just saying I had this thought and now can't get it out my mind.” he started and as you nodded for him with a soft curious smile to go on, his own smile got even bigger and he kept going “I think, and I'd love to find out for real too, that you'd be cute grasping at the sheets of my bed. What do you say?”

Your smile didn't flatter so for the first time Sam curious to see how it would turn out.

“Cute?” you asked with a raised eyebrow “Well, thank you for the compliment but let's both agree and I bet I'd be more than just cute.” you actually smiled more widely and Sam had to keep his eyes from widening, much like Dean really, who couldn't believe it had worked.

“But-” you spoke up again “No matter how much you sweet talk me, Winchester-” you looked him in the eyes “I ain't making your bed.”

“Wha-” Dean blinked “I didn't-”

“You're a grown ass man. You can do your bed on your own.” you got completely serious with those last words, before leaving both of them in utter silence and focused back on the book you'd placed right in front of you.

“But I- I-” stammering and incoherent words were the only things you heard before there was some scraping of he chair as Dean pushed it back and got up, mumbling to himself “I need a beer. A whole pack of beers.”

.

..

…

“Right.” Sam cleared his throat after the silence that had set between the two of you, a small laugh leaving his lips “Well, since you're the only one so focused on this case, I'll take a look at your notes. Don't think we can count on Dean anymore.”

“Mhm” came a soft hum from you after which you were left in silence for only a couple seconds before- “So what was this now?” you asked, making Sam look up with a frown.

“Huh?”

“What number. Does it count as 59 or is it, because he technically tried to use three different pick up lines in one conversation, that it counts for three and therefore we're on 61?” you looked up with a smirk and a wide smile slowly spread on Sam's face.

The man laugh and nodded his head in understanding “Of course. Of course.”

“Hey, the day when Dean Winchester outsmarts me has not come yet. And it won't anytime soon. I plan to keep this up for a long time to come.”

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural one shot #supernatural x reader #dean #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean imagine #dean winchester imagine #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean one shot #dean winchester one shot