This Genre Of Jungkook Never Beating The Boyfriend Material Allegations

this genre of jungkook never beating the boyfriend material allegations ♡

Will It Fit? One-Shot

WELCOME TO MY FIC DEBUT BAYBEE!!!!

Y'all can thank @matchstick6812 for being a true supportive QUEEN and encouraging me to post this!! (u are the light of my LYFE enjoy bestie)

Summary: Fitting room shenanigans inspired by this prompt: “You tried on a shirt that was too small in the store I work the changing rooms at and I had to help you out of it and now we’re making small talk” au from this post

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre/features: Retail AU, heavy flirting, lots of humor & references, some thirsting, usage of pet names bc I am WEAK FOR THESE MEN

Word Count: 2.9K

Rating: T but minors DNI this blog ain't for u my wee ones

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking/partying, s!ut used in a positive context, humor-laced distress at having to ask for help

Fic below the read more break!

You were practically floating through the mall, radiating the aura of freshly hit direct deposit from the paycheck that booty-dropped its way into your bank account last night. The only worry on your mind now was the fresh digs awaiting you on the rack at the new store that opened up. It was supposed to specialize in a mixture of club wear and unique fashion so you were excited when you saw its neon-lit display on the other side of your favorite smoothie spot. 

When you walked in with a smoothie adorned by a sassy straw, a baritone voice rang out to welcome you in. You gave them a quick smile, not at all surprised that the employees here are ridiculously attractive. The clerk folding clothes had soft brown hair with light curls that fell into his eyes and loose clothing that alluded to a fit silhouette. To be honest, it motivated you to find something in here that would make you feel as good as he looked. Your mission was set on obtaining a new top that would go well with the leather skirt you bought last month, so you filled your arms with any strappy and slutty contraption you could find in their late-night section while day-dreaming about all the free drinks you could get next Friday in the right look. 

Haul in tow, you strut yourself over to the fitting rooms, stopping yourself from catching the attention of the attendant that had his back turned to you. He was squatting down, ass looking fine as hell in black skinny jeans that tucked nicely into Chelsea boots. When he was about to stand, you cleared your throat to announce your presence, watching as he turned to you with a pleasant smile on his cherub face. His white collared shirt was tucked into the high-waisted jeans, accenting his slim waist, while silver earrings glistened in the bright lighting of the fitting rooms to compliment his jawline.

“How many sweetie?” He asked you, leaning against the counter. 

“Um, to be honest I didn’t count.” you laughed and he returned a polite chuckle while tapping the counter with his hand. You deposited the pile of clothes and sipped on your drink while you read the smudged words on the badge that hung around his neck that roughly equated to “once you” above his name - Jimin - “you can’t Jim-out” below it.

Lizzo’s “Good as Hell” rang out from the speakers while he counted the hangers and plucked up a bright pink placard. “We don’t allow drinks in the fitting rooms.” He pointed to a sign on the edge of the entrance that you had to turn around to see, and his bell-like laugh greeted your ears when he walked around the counter to kick the trash can further under the desk. “But I’ll let it pass this time because you’re cute.” He winked before grinning at you and spinning to lead you down the hall of mirrored doors. You pressed the cold drink to your hot cheeks as subtly as you could. “Name?” He called over his shoulder.

“Y/N.”

“That’s pretty.” He mumbled as he wrote your name out in bubble letters, opening the door to hang up your tops while his leg kept the door propped open. You drank your smoothie a little faster, trying not to admire the way the fabric flexed on his thighs or the fact that all the mirrors in the dressing room offered every angle on a silver platter. Girl, get a grip. Lizzo’s voice reminds you of your mission: to blow way too much of your paycheck on cute clothes to be the one that’s admired. 

“Thank you.” You squeaked out when he held the door open for you. 

“I’ll just be at the counter if you need a different size or anything. Feel free to call me - my name is Jimin!” He then went back to his post at the front of the area. Now safely secured in the bubble of your fitting room, Doja Cat came on the speakers like the universe was cheering you on. You briefly wondered if Jimin would like any of these on you. 

Slipping off your own shirt you shook your head, he probably helped dozens of people a day, you needed to vibe.

Your haul was relatively successful so far, some of the minidresses you picked out fit well and you had three top contenders to go with the leather skirt you were aiming to find a partner for, but now it was time to try on the shirt you picked off the clearance rank. Much like Mario Kart, you have some curves that men find enticing. This was your double edged sword in life because while you served the D to the E, to the L-I-C-I-O-U-S, dressing your assets did not come without its risks. You’ve had to jump into your jeans in front of college one-night-stands and risk a nip-slip at way too many pool parties to think this top was a good idea. It was gleaning on the edge of too small, and your tatas will either come out looking fierce or like an orange shoved into a glass. Still, you persisted like the warrior you are. Kesha did not raise a quitter.

It should have been simple really, the shirt was a black tube top with straps that rounded over the breasts up to your neck and then turned into fringe at the shoulders, but you were sure the entire store could hear you grunt and gasp and curse as the damned thing practically choked you like an anaconda. Fuck you Nicki Minaj, apparently this one don’t want none and we should have left it in the rainforest (read: clearance rack) where it belonged.

Finally pulling it over your face, you sucked in a loud gasp before tugging the zipper on the back up to your nape, satisfied. Hands on your hips, you looked in the mirror with a proud smirk. They had us in the first half, not gonna lie, but you were nothing if not determined to get a good deal. Clicking your tongue, you examined yourself in the mirror. The body of the shirt sat well and the fringe was fun, but the tatas were where the magic was supposed to happen and failed like a middle school talent show. It reminded you of when your bestie Mattie sent you a photo she took of when she shoved her knees into the neck of one of her favorite dresses during a stint she had on a dating app. You wished she was here to help you in and out of this monstrosity, and normally she would be heaux-ing it up with you, but she was busy traveling for work this weekend.

“A career woman,” you sighed dreamily, “just like Elle Woods.”

You reached forward for your drink, needing to refuel before getting back to business to defeat the funds. However, when you reached back for the zipper, your arm couldn't move all the way because of the constricting fabric.

“Damn anaconda,” You murmured, attempting to shove your arm into the shirt to pull it off you instead. Unfortunately, this was an even worse idea as now your elbow was definitely caught in the stupid plastic strap meant for the hanger and the top was out of stretch. Any more tugging and you’d Magic Mike this shit open. You pressed your forehead against the door, weighing out the option of living your life in this mirrored box. How much money would you need to doordash food here until the grim reaper needed to shop for a date night outfit too? Could a contractor walk you through installing a shower via phone call? You’ll probably have to cancel the subscription on your mobile games to conserve funds until you can score some sponsorships for “longest person to live in a fitting room” - is that a Guinness World Record? You’d look it up but you can’t waste battery life until Mattie gets back in town to bring you a charger from home. This is it. This is how you die. By an alien predator that sucks the oxygen from your body slowly but surely while disguised as a cheap fast-fashion shirt.

You hear the click clack of Chelsea boots and debate calling for Jimin. You wonder if he could round up some strong girls in the store to help you on the claim that you needed someone to hoist you higher to fix the lightbulb in here, but after glancing up you realize the store is perfectly intact - the damn maintenance crew did their job. Sighing, you call his name.

“Hey Jimin?” You hear him click a hanger onto a rack and walk over to your door.

“How can I help?”

“By chance, do you have any female employees?” His answering chuckle stung your heart like ice.

“I can assure you my fashion sense is as good as any-”

“No no! That’s not what I meant at all. I need help with a zipper.”

“O-oh.” He cleared his throat, “Well, I can look away once I have my hands on the zipper if that’s okay?” he suggested, clearly unsure.

You sighed, figuring this was as good as it was going to get unless you were going to become the next Buzzfeed article. You unlocked the door with your free hand, hesitating on the knob.

“You have to promise not to laugh.”

“I promise, sweetheart.” Jimin calls, voice gentle this time.

You whip open the door and see his eyes widen down at you through the slim gold rimmed glasses as he takes in your exposed skin and titties that looked more like two stuck together gumballs than cleavage. Jimin went from awe to clearly pressing his lips together in an attempt not to laugh when his eyes dropped down to your tyrannosaurus arm sticking out from the not-so-safety net that was your shirt.

“You promised.” You announced, face void of amusement.

“Right, yes, turn around and let me help.” Jimin gave you an apologetic smile, eyes sparkling with mischief that made your heart pound a little quicker.

You held your hair out of the way for him as he tugged the zipper down, freeing your neck from its confines. You went to wiggle your arm out, but you were still stuck in the unforgiving fabric tube.

“Uh,” Jimin hesitated, “Do you want me to help pull it up? I can close my eyes.”

“Honestly you’ll probably need them open,” You muttered, “This thing is more complicated than a damn knot in the boy scouts.” 

At this Jimin perked up “I was a boy scout!”

“I might make it out of here alive then.” His bell-like laugh released some of the tension in the room while he reached forward to slip his hands under the bottom of the shirt. 

Here’s where things got complicated. The straps routinely got caught in your earrings, Jimin had to maneuver your arms and hair in ten different directions, and you basically wrestled yourselves deeper into the fitting room with a flurry of cuss words and grunts until he perched a boot onto the bench and sat you down to finally pull the last strip of the shirt from your arms. You were pretty sure you heard the alien shirt scream out “I’ll see you in hell!” so you made sure to get out “You tell them who sent you!” through a mouthful of polyester. You fell back against the mirrored wall, panting from battle, while he caught his breath holding the offending garment in his fist.

Jimin reached up to push his hair off his forehead and squinted at the rough paper that brushed against his hand.

“The clearance rack?” He muttered, holding up the tag with a neon yellow mark-down sticker. “No fucking wonder no one’s left with this yet.” Jimin looked up at you with a smile to celebrate the victory of freeing you when he realized you were sitting in jeans and a bra, and you came to the same conclusion as you snatched your shirt up to cover your chest. His cool facade cracked as he all but bolted out, red in the face and not from physical exertion, and closed the door behind him.

You can thank Rihanna for teaching you better than to go shopping in granny undies, if you had to be half naked in front of Jimin, an opaque lacy bra was the way to go.

“Y/N?” Speaking of the devil, he called for you from the hallway.

“Yes?” You didn’t mean to sound as breathless as you did, but you’d blame it on the amatuer wrestling even under oath. Really, you should have tried out for WWE, that would have solved a lot of your issues today. You’d be training under spotlights, bouncing on your heels, throwing chairs at worthy opponents instead of guys that look at your bestie wrong. Honestly, it’s amazing you haven’t been banned from more clubs. Maybe Mattie would be willing to pour a pitcher of water over you in the corner of the ring.

Jimin’s voice interrupted your thought choo-choo with a sultry tone, and you could practically hear a smirk adorn his face “How about I stay here and help you choose what you want to take home?” 

You grinned, “I’d like that.”

Jimin patiently leaned against the opposing fitting room as you tried on several more - correctly sized - tops and minidresses, and the only time he left your side was to pick out a few things he felt would look good on you. You couldn’t stop smiling every time he would compliment the way dresses sat on your curves or comment on which shirt would go well with the skirt you showed him a photo of. He even found a cute pair of shorts for you to match with some blouses once spring hits. You spoke about your favorite seasons, fashion icons, music artists, and he even shared some funny jokes from when he played a whisper challenge game with his friends. His coworker - who was also his best friend - even came over to join in on the story-telling when there was a lack of customers of the floor, and you were probably imagining the possessive glint that flashed across Jimin’s eyes when you giggled at some of Taehyung’s jokes.

Jimin would switch between being the sweetest gentleman to unabashed flirt in the span of seconds, practically giving you whiplash. You, however, were matching him head-on by serving your own winks or asking for help with zippers you definitely could have done on your own. When Jimin realized you were on your last dress, he took his time pulling the zipper down so slowly you could practically hear the clink of each tooth while his other hand held your hip still. You pushed your hair over your shoulder and looked back at him with a flirty smile across your lips, watching Jimin bite his lower lip when he grinned at you and backed away so you could finish changing. 

Back to being a gentleman, he took every single item in the fitting room for you, placing the garments that were vetoed out on a rack to sort later and strutting the rest up to the register while you trailed behind him. You were a little disappointed your time with Jimin was up, and you idly wondered if you had the energy to try on half the store, but your smoothie was long finished and he technically had a job to do. 

“You know, we’re having a sale next weekend if you want to find something on a good deal that won’t strangle you. I can set some things aside if you think you’ll be here.” Jimin mentioned idly as he rang up your purchase, eyes flitting up to yours briefly.

You gesture to the pile of clothes he was folding into the bag and laughed, “Depends on if I can afford the damages.” Jimin raised a perfect brow at you from under his ashy bangs while he punched a few keys on the computer.

Suddenly Taehyung called for your attention, he was holding a trash bag from the back and held it out for your empty cup, a boxy smile adorning his face when you thanked him.

Jimin flashed you another one of his cherub smiles and spun the card reader around for you. Brows furrowed, you mouthed the prices of the clothes to yourself while trying to figure out why the total seemed so low. Then it hit you, he had punched in his employee discount. Your jaw dropped and eyes widened as you looked up at him to dispute the generous offer, but he had his index finger pressed to his lips while leaning his chin into his hand. A raised eyebrow further challenged you to refuse him, and you found yourself thanking him repeatedly instead. 

“I’ll come back,” you promised with a smile, “I’ll be needing some accessories anyway.”

He smirked as he scribbled something onto your printed receipt and promptly tucked it into the bag, holding it out for you.

“Have a great night!” Taehyung called behind the boxes he was carrying.

“You both as well!” You called over your shoulder, pulling out the receipt to see what message Jimin had left for you.

Call me! :) was tucked under your total with a number, and you threw him a wink before disappearing from his sight. 

Hope y'all enjoyed!!! Let me know your thoughts!

Taglist: @greattriumphbear (ty for being incredible and my first tag u beautiful creature)

so dainty and pretty<3

yoongi ♡ 220824

translation: miiniyoongs, tteokminnie, btsinthemoment

Footage of 🍕 warming up to come @ u for scaring them

Ummm….what the ever loving…..

“Ga-young and Yoongi are end game”

NOT FUNNY!! HOW DARE YOU?? You know how much I despise her, how much insecurity and anxiety she causes our “Lucky” MC ( yes, I will keep saying lucky until you acknowledge my L guessing supremacy)…….

Ga-young my ASS.

I think I just threw up in my mouth a little. Might have been a little pepperoni.

🍕/Diane/Head of Production team

I SAID TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE LMFAO

*flees in jungkook*

55/100 days of kim namjoon 🐳