Were you in the wrong for feeding into Taehyung’s delusions and hanging out with him in broad daylight? Yes. 

But was there any other choice when Jungkook was hanging out with Yoongi’s thirsty groupies? No. 

Plus, he has been extra annoying lately. And although you don’t mind his parade of women, you need to cement your spot as the first choice. Having a cup of coffee with Taehyung should do the trick.

“You know he’s coming, right?” Taehyung shakes his head, laughing to himself. This isn’t the first time he’s been dragged into your escapades, and it sure as hell won’t be the last. 

“No he isn’t. He’s recording,” you say matter-of-factly. Unfortunately, you know he’s right—the texts in your phone say otherwise. That man is on a mission, and it involves Taehyung’s head being ripped off his body. 

Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head. “You have the survival instincts of a moth.”

The clock in the corner of the well-lit cafe tells you there’s about five minutes of peace left. With your last moments, maybe you should focus on the task of setting Jihyo up with Hoseok. You don’t know much about him, other than the fact he’s Taehyung’s confidante and rapper-in-crime. Korea’s version of Drake and Future, if you will. You’ve met Hoseok once or twice at the club when you and Taehyung were in the throes of your fling. 

“So,” you perk up, leaning forward to showcase your cleavage, “can you get me backstage at one of your shows?” Chance of him saying no is low, but never zero.  

Luckily, he straightens his spine, sitting more upright, like he’s finally happy to be of use to you. Before this, small talk consisted of the following topics: Jungkook, your modeling work, his new songs, Jungkook, and your hopes of getting a new Hermes bag. “Of course baby. Whatever you want, you know that.” 

“Hmm?” you purr, amping up the charm. “Anything I want?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes before taking a sip of his coffee. With you, he can never be too sure what you’ll ask of him. “Well, within reason, yes.” 

Nodding, you lower your voice to a sultry whisper, “What’s up with your friend Hoseok?”

“Not setting you up with him, doll.”

Okay, rude. He should know you better than that. You would never tell him about your advances towards his friends. You would just do it. 

You giggle. “No, silly. For my best friend Jihyo. She’s a model.”

His eyes widen. “Shit, for real?” 

A tale as old as time—rappers and models. Like peanut butter and jelly, chocolate and vanilla. 

“Yeah, she has a crush on him. Would you be down to help set them up?” 

“I would,” he slowly nods, then continues, “For a price, of course.”

Of course there would be conditions. It serves you right, especially with the way you’ve treated him these past few months. 

Regardless, you play into your charm. “What is it, Taehyungie?” 

He smirks. “Double date with us and them.” 

Out of all the things he could’ve conjured up, this one doesn’t actually sound half bad. “Oh that would be so fun! I would love that.” 

Taehyung chuckles, “Don’t think your little boyfriend would be so keen on it, doll.” 

You sigh. God, does no one understand the art of wanting to be someone’s first choice without suffering the indignity of actually being their girlfriend? “Tae, for the last time, he’s not my boyfriend.” 

He cocks a brow, eyes averting behind your shoulder to peer angrily at something behind you. “You sure about that?” 

“Very.” 

“Well, then your probation officer is here,” he huffs, puffing out his chest. 

Someone clears their throat behind your chair, and your head swivels around, but your heart already knows exactly who it is. 

“Kookie!” 

Your enthusiasm is not reciprocated. (Rude, considering he drove all the way here.) Jungkook looms over the table, dressed in black like he’s a spy. His eyes are an onyx shade, but your eyes gleam with pure, unadulterated sunshine. Smiling, you lift your hand in an innocent wave. “Hi.” 

Your words are met with silence. Gesturing toward the empty table beside you, you say, “Join us! Do you want coffee?”

“No,” he mumbles, jaw clenching. 

“Hmm, they have strawberry lemonade?”

“I don't want a fucking strawberry lemonade.” His eyes land on Taehyung, who is sporting an equally murderous expression. You should know better than to catch yourself in the middle of a faceoff, but you’re so tickled by how annoyed Jungkook is it makes your heart flutter. 

Frowning, you respond, “Okay, you don’t have to be mean to me, Kookie.”

“What are you even doing here, JK?” Taehyung drops his rapper name as if it’s poisonous. Jungkook’s jaw ticks several times before settling on an apathetic expression. 

“Getting coffee.”

“Didn’t you just say you don’t want—”

“Kookie. Try mine,” You push the cup towards him, and Jungkook’s tattooed hand reaches out, taking a long sip while maintaining eye contact with Taehyung. He makes it a point to ensure his lips land right where your lipgloss stains the cup. 

The silence encapsulates the cafe, as though it’s the final standoff of an old Western film, Jungkook and Taehyung staring each other down like the town isn’t big enough for both of them. Then Taehyung forces out a laugh, a gust of air that’s enough to make Jungkook’s nostrils flare. “Something funny?”

In response, Taehyung nonchalantly shrugs. “A few things.”

Jungkook takes a step forward, and your fight-or-flight kicks in, leaning forward to block him from moving further. “Tae, be nicer.”

Jungkook expectantly eyes the two of you. “Why the fuck are you calling him Tae?”

“Kookie, are you okay? Did you hit your head at the studio?” you pout. “His name is Tae.”

“It’s Taehyung.”

“Well, that's quite long,” you frown, reaching for a bite of your brownie. Jungkook’s eyes can’t help but follow the movement, the way your gloss-coated lips wrap around the piece. 

Jungkook’s voice is tight when he speaks. “Clearly, you've got time.”

Taehyung snorts, shaking his head. This game of ping-pong isn’t new to anyone, and it’s unfair to continue dragging anyone else into it. Luckily, Taehyung takes the hint, standing up to reach Jungkook’s height, save for a few inches. “You two are adorable. JK, it’s always a pleasure. See you at the next award show?”

Jungkook’s smile is devoid of joy. “If your album charts high enough to get invited.”

Taehyung’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. Why can’t arch-nemeses just say goodbye? “How long you been working on that one, JK?”

From where you sit, you can see Jungkook’s taut jaw twitch. “Came to me naturally.” 

“You should put it in a song. Might finally get you a writing credit instead of Yoongi being your ghostwriter.”

Shit. Jungkook takes a step forward, and you leap out of your chair, standing in front of Jungkook as if your frame could do anything to protect Taehyung from his wrath. “Okay!” You clap your hands together before Jungkook can respond. “This has been so much fun.”

Neither man acknowledges you, and you frown at the lack of attention. You’re much too pretty to be caught in the middle of a love triangle that doesn’t revolve around you. You could announce a pregnancy right now and you’re not sure either of them would hear you.

Taehyung finally breaks eye contact first, looking down at you with a sickly sweet smile. It’s almost impressive considering he was attempting to kill someone three seconds ago. “Bye, doll.”

“Bye, Taehyungie!”

Taehyung reaches down and gives your cheek an affectionate pat. “I’ll text you.”

“Do not fucking text her.”

Silly you. You’d forgotten about the imaginary constitutional amendment granting Jeon Jungkook legislative authority over your phone. You huff a sigh. “Kookie, you’re embarrassing me.”

Taehyung chooses to remove himself from the situation, waving again as he makes his way toward the exit. The cafe is pretty quiet during its normal mid-afternoon rush, and you can only thank your guardian angel for this, because you’re pretty certain this could’ve landed you on Dispatch.

“I swear you do this shit on purpose to piss me off,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, running a hand through his tangled locks. “Did you have to see him today? Or at all?”

“Did you have to let Yoongi bring girls into the studio?” you argue, hoping your voice doesn’t sound too airy. 

“I told you, baby, that’s part of his process,” he sighs. 

“Oh really? Yoongi needs groupie pussy to write a verse of a song?”

Jungkook’s lip twitches, and you can practically see the smile lines forming, the dimples begging to make an appearance. You want to kiss him stupid. 

A laugh escapes him before he can swallow it down. You hate it. Despite the entire situation you’ve found yourself in. Hate it even more because he has the nerve to look good while irritating you, hair still mussed from whatever creative emergency required an audience of women in Yoongi’s studio.

Folding your arms across your chest, you try to look as tough as possible, but it’s quite difficult to do when you’re in a pink off-the-shoulder top. 

“Nothing even happened. We were just brainstorming.”

“And you needed the sorority there to do that?” you quip. 

You reach for your purse, the little devil on your shoulder begging you to provoke him. Luckily he can’t see the smile on your face as you bend down to gather the items left on the table. 

Jungkook catches your wrist before you can pull your bag fully onto your shoulder. “Are you actually jealous, buttercup?”

Laughter bursts out of you, so loudly that a couple two tables over eyes you in fear. “Of Yoongi’s little girls? That’s adorable.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not.” You smile sweetly. “I think it’s cute that you have such a vivid imagination.”

“[Y/N].”

There’s a warning embedded in your name now, stripped of Buttercup and baby and sweetheart and every other sugary thing he wraps around you.

“You can do whatever you want, Kookie. I can do whatever I want. Wasn’t that the whole point of this arrangement?”

And when you put it like that, when you spell out the circumstances, it doesn’t sit well with either of you. You’re pawns in each other’s game, even back when you first met. He’d been watching you from across the room at the club for less than ten minutes before he finally came over, asking your name like he hadn’t already decided exactly how the night was going to end.

You made it as far as the back hallway. His mouth on yours beside a locked bathroom door, hands tangled in his shirt, and enough mutual attraction to make introductions optional. By the time either of you bothered to establish rules, you had already broken most of the sensible ones.

But wanting had always been apparently fine until someone else did it. Until now, when someone tries to claim that thing you’ve told yourself you don’t want. 

His gaze flicks over your face, lingering on your lips. Jungkook’s hand latches onto your arm, and before you can protest, he’s dragging you towards the back of the cafe, where there’s one gender neutral bathroom strategically placed, as if the universe knew you’d need it for Jungkook to scold your behavior and fuck you stupid. 

His grip on your arm is tight, burns to the touch. “Where are we—“

Jungkook pulls you into him until you’re in front, his hands placed on your hips. Leaning down, his hair brushes your earlobe. “Bathroom,” he whispers. “Gotta teach my girl who she belongs to.” 

He toes the door open with his shoe, all but shoving you inside before locking the door. His lips are pressed against yours before you have a chance to protest, to argue with him on how possessive he’s being, his hand comes up to wrap around your throat and push you up against the wall. You can feel his hardened length, hips rolling into you with urgency. 

You need to stay strong. Don’t give in.

And then his hands start to travel down your side, slipping underneath your skirt to feel your soaked cunt, dipping a finger past your folds, enough to make you whimper, and well… you were never that strong to begin with. 

You’ll apologize to the baristas on the way out.