#oooooh jungkook in black leather

[bonvoyagenoona]

The Cul-de-Sac Cons | JJK, JHS | 01: The Job

pairings: jungkook x reader, hobi x reader

rating: 18+ / Mature

c/w, themes, & more info: fic page | masterpost

chapter 01 preview:

“And this is…?” you ask Sejin, gesturing to the black-clad stranger.

The stranger smirks. “Jeon Jungkook.” He moves from hunching forward in his chair, legs spread wide, elbows resting on his knees, fingers intertwined, to half-standing and extending his hand to you for a high-five.

You shoot him a quizzical look. When you don’t high-five him back, he laughs, amused, and sits back in his chair.

“Alright, well, shall we get down to it?” you ask, turning back to Sejin.

“You haven’t introduced yourself,” Jungkook replies, his curious eyes still trained on you.

“You know her,” Sejin tells Jungkook with a smile. “This is The Seller.”

Taehyung and Jimin’s faces widen with surprise. Even respect.

You can’t help but feel proud at the fact that your reputation now precedes you.

Jungkook’s expression is blank, but at least that cocky smirk has been wiped off of his face.

Sejin grins softly. “Forgive him. He’s meant to be the muscle.”

01: The Job

When the given address turns out to be a grungy, dilapidated warehouse, you can’t help but scoff and roll your eyes. Cliche , you think. You can already get a sense of the task at hand, some mid-level job that won’t call for much creativity in the planning, nor any fun in the execution. You’ve immediately lost respect for whoever this client is. The workload you’d taken on in the past couple of months was already feeling stale, and you’d hoped that taking a chance on this new client might bring you something exciting. 

You drive around the block to do another scan. None of your sensors are chirping, which means you’re most likely alone. And then you pull into the abandoned lot, choosing a particularly shadowy spot to park. It’s tedious, showing up two hours early to make sure things are up to snuff, but your process has saved your hide from raids and idiots. But like with your usual suspects, you feel safe enough to at least put a little bit of music on while you wait and monitor the situation. 

You’re even prepared for that. You have a playlist for it, slow beats, no vocals, lest you draw attention to yourself. It’s burned onto a CD, helping you to stay untraceable, and whispering through your beat-up, junker’s speakers now. 

Leaning back in your seat, and sighing, your eyes fall to your hands on the steering wheel. You pick them up and look at your nails. They’re a bit grubby. You haven’t had a manicure in a while. Maybe part of your take from this job can go toward that. And a pedicure. Maybe a whole spa day.

Scoffing, you think, Fuck it. A whole spa week. At one of those fancy places too, where people bring you delicious and relaxing things that you didn’t even know existed, much less think to ask for. Where people lose their jobs if they look you in the eye. Maybe somewhere out of the country. 

The take should be able to cover those expenses a thousand times over, at least. 

You have to keep reminding yourself that you’ve done well with your shady little shop on the dark web. You do an exquisite job, and your rates now reflect that. It helps that your techy, gunslinging skill set also includes a natural ability to skim the veneer with people. 

After all, every business is defined by its customer service.

Being superficially charming helps with your personal life as well. Every time Mom or Pops calls to thank you for the money or gifts you send them, or to pass along gratitude from any of your other family members for the things you send abroad, they buy your cover story. 

You pull out what you lovingly refer to as your “work phone”, an old, bubble gum pink slab of plastic with a fake real estate company sticker on the back. A stranger would open it up to see a stock photo of a house with a FOR SALE sign in the yard and judge it as some basic nonsense. Mom or Pops would open it up and start bragging about how well you’re doing as a real estate agent. 

That is, if they could open it up.

Your work phone is a device that you’ve so masterfully crafted, encrypted and organized so precisely that the rotating schedule of new IP addresses and contact numbers is fully and securely automated. You’ve even taken care of your most frequent clients, the process keeping them up-to-date with how best to contact you. It’s the one thing that stays with you, forever.

Opening the phone now, you double-check to make sure the screen is at its dimmest setting, and you look around before checking for any updates in the direct message with the warehouse address.

Client 93 (9:22 AM): I’m in the market for a mid-century modern, 4 bedrooms. Maybe some green space for the kids. Any suggestions?

You (9:22 AM): I can think of a few good options. 

Client 93 (9:23 AM): Great. Let’s chat. 10 AM Tuesday.

You grin at the message.

The basics of your ordering system are relatively easy to figure out. All clients are anonymized and numbered sequentially. Times are understood to be PM. All addresses for meeting spots must be hyperlinked, providing a degree of separation and a potential argument for plausible deniability should things ever get messy, legally. 

But the ordering nomenclature is what you’re really proud of. You chose real estate because it’s something that not a lot of people in your life really know much about, and though it takes some extra effort for you to get educated on the ins and outs, the language suits what you need perfectly. 

There are six styles that you specialize in: Ranch, Modern, Tudor, Spanish, Craftsman, and Victorian. The styles denote the kind of work to expect, and the size of the total take. Clients order your services depending on the job they want to hire you for. Most of your jobs are Ranch style homes, which usually run about $10k and only require some light work. Stuff you can do online, alone, and in your sleep. 

The number of bedrooms tells you the number of team members to account for when splitting up the take. Last month’s Spanish style home introduced an element of violence when you had to work to get past armed security. The request was for a six-bedroom, though, and your cut of the $500k take mostly went to some medical bills after someone on the team accidentally alerted a guard.

You grin when you re-read Client 93’s message because you finally feel like you really know what you’re doing.

And then your smile shortens a bit at the client’s conversational tone. They seemed to know what they were doing, too. That’s why you thought that this job might be more thrilling than the others. It might’ve presented a real challenge. It remains to be seen, but seeing this meeting venue makes you think that maybe the client is just a romantic who has a way with words.

You sigh lazily, put your phone back in your pocket, and wait.

About fifteen minutes before the appointment is set to begin, another car pulls up to the warehouse. You duck down and pick up the handgun in your passenger seat. You hover your finger over the safety, watching the new stranger very carefully as he opens the door of his car.

A boot softly lands on the concrete.

The door closes with a muted slam.

The stranger looks around before straightening his jacket and fiddling with his sleeves at the wrists.

And then, he just… waltzes inside.

You shake your head.

But aside from his seeming haphazard absent-mindedness or disregard for his own safety, you two have lots of surface similarities. Just like you, he’s driving what only seems to be a clunker; you know from the sound of the engine that the beat-up body is just for show. Like you, he’s clad in all black, but not in a way that draws attention. Also like you, he seems to have an affinity for leather. 

You always wait until ten minutes before the appointment to go inside, but you get the impulse to wait a little longer because you haven’t seen anyone else pull up. The request indicated that you’d be working with three other people, and there are no other cars within the radius. But rather than feeling like something is amiss, you feel irked at the prospect that the meeting won’t start on time.

At two minutes ‘til, you decide that it’s probably alright to head inside. No one else has shown up, but nothing else has exploded or given you any reason for alarm. Yet. 

You place your gun in your jacket pocket, and you follow the path that the driver took.

You come upon a big, open area with a foldable card table at the center. Four men look up and stare at you as you cautiously approach.

“Someone’s buying a house?” you say, stopping a few feet away. 

In your pocket, your finger hovers over the trigger of your gun in your pocket. 

“I am,” one man says. He’s wearing a pair of thin-rimmed glasses. You take this to be Client 93. He smirks at your hand placement. And then he shows you his empty hands. He looks to his right at two of the other men, who do the same at his prompting. 

All eyes fall to the black-clad stranger that you saw outside, who scoffs and shows his empty, upturned palms to you.

“Come join us,” Client 93 replies. 

You slowly bring your hands out of your pockets and sit in the last available chair. Apart from the one wearing glasses, the men look particularly confused to see you. You always wonder what it is about you that makes people stare at these meetings, but then you remember that for whatever reason, it’s still somewhat of a shock for women to be doing this work.

Client 93 grins at you. He speaks like he wrote in his message, the tone more suited for bumping into a neighbor at the grocery store. “I heard you were precise. Do you always show up right on time?”

“She’s been here for a while,” the black-clad stranger says. 

Your eyes flash over to him.

“Should’ve found a better hiding spot. Saw your car on my way in,” the black-clad stranger explains, sneering.

“Glad you’re alive to talk about it, with you just waltzing in here without checking for booby traps or anything else,” you hurl back, making him frown.

“Already pointing out each other’s weaknesses,” Client 93 says, smiling genuinely. “I like that. It’ll make for a stronger team.” 

He leans over to shake your hand. 

“I’m Sejin.”

He looks over to the two men to his right.

“Jimin,” he introduces, nodding over to the blonde undercut in the red suit. He’s leaning his chair back, his left ankle resting on his right knee, teetering slightly back and forth as he rests his arm on the table. His seemingly innocent face is probably his biggest asset. You wonder what kinds of trouble he’s gotten into, and dazzled his way right back out of, in the past.

“Taehyung,” Sejin goes on, looking at the black curls in the gray suit. Though you can’t see his eyes through his hair, he seems soft. But with that thick neck, that mouth set in a slight frown, and those big, strong hands, you know that must regularly leave destruction in his wake.

“And this is…?” you ask Sejin, gesturing to the black-clad stranger.

The stranger smirks. “Jeon Jungkook.” He moves from hunching forward in his chair, legs spread wide, elbows resting on his knees, fingers intertwined, to half-standing and extending his hand to you for a high-five.

You shoot him a quizzical look. When you don’t high-five him back, he laughs, amused, and sits back in his chair.

“Alright, well, shall we get down to it?” you ask, turning back to Sejin.

“You haven’t introduced yourself,” Jungkook replies, his curious eyes still trained on you.

“You know her,” Sejin tells Jungkook with a smile. “This is The Seller.” 

Taehyung and Jimin’s faces widen with surprise. Even respect.

You can’t help but feel proud at the fact that your reputation now precedes you.

Jungkook’s expression is blank, but at least that cocky smirk has been wiped off of his face.

Sejin grins softly. “Forgive him. He’s meant to be the muscle.”

“Obviously,” Jungkook says under his breath, missing the diss completely but laughing to himself about all of your comparatively weak builds.

Sejin points to himself. “Needless to say, I’m the brains of this outfit.”

You doubt that, given that he’s introducing his team using their real names.

Sejin nods again to Jimin. “Cars.” 

Then at Taehyung. “Guns.”

“Wait a second,” you say, planting your soles against the floor a little firmer. “You said that you were in the market for a mid-century modern. Why do we need muscle, cars, and most importantly, guns?”

“Yeah, why do we need guns?” Jungkook teases, eyeing your jacket pocket.

You narrow your eyes at him and hover your finger over the trigger. “I’m talking about the nature of the job. This is just a bit of protection.”

“Ah, who needs protection?” Jungkook says, arching his eyebrow at you and sticking his tongue out at you.

You roll your eyes and turn back to Sejin. 

“Let me explain, before you blacklist me,” Sejin offers. 

He scoots forward and sets a phone on the card table. 

You look at Sejin skeptically for a moment before scooting your chair forward, too.

Jimin and Taehyung remain in place, seemingly already having heard this spiel.

But Jungkook copies your movements and leans on his arms on the card table, peering down at the phone screen.

It displays a high-resolution picture of an abstract painting. It’s a small 1x1 canvas, framed ornately. It’s an obscure piece, one that most people wouldn’t know about. But its moody colors and patterns are unmistakable to you.

“A Gomez?” you ask, looking up at Sejin and unable to fight your smile. “That’s definitely not a mid-century modern kind of ask.”

He chuckles. “What should I have asked for instead?”

You’ve designated Victorian houses for these kinds of outrageous jobs, but these take years and years of planning. Or so you think. You’ve never actually gotten a request for one before. Now, you wish that you had. Because you don’t quite know how to work a job that will have a $50 million take. 

Your fear takes over.

“I’m out,” you say, standing up.

Sejin frowns. “What? Why?”

“This requires a huge team and more resources,” you say.

Sejin nods. “And how do you know I haven’t already accounted for those?”

“You said a four-bedroom,” you reply, gesturing to the team around you. “You need at least ten.”

“Not for this phase,” Sejin tells you.

You crumple your lips together. Sejin really is the brains of this operation. 

“It’s the final phase in our project,” he goes on, and Jimin and Taehyung smile. “I’ve been after this one for a while. Hoping you’d be able to help me out with the unique nuances needed for this last stretch.”

He looks deeply into your eyes and picks up on something within. It frightens you a bit, the way he latches onto you.

“You’ve been impressive in the amateur leagues. Don’t you want to start having some real fun?”

The way he says it. 

Quietly. 

Seductively.

You sigh and relax again.

Sejin looks over at Jungkook. “Any concerns on your end?”

“Nope,” Jungkook replies, drumming his hands on the table. “What do we need to do?”

Sejin explains the details to you, the plan so ingrained in him that he doesn’t need any notes or visual aides, and Jimin and Taehyung are lazily mouthing along to his words.

“I’ve already located the Gomez. All my work up to this point has led me to find out that it’s being prepared for an auction downtown. It’s being delivered in three days. We’re going to steal it as it’s en route, in an armored truck being driven and accompanied by armed guards, and escorted by the art dealer in charge of selling it.”

He looks around the table as each person’s task comes up. 

He starts with you. 

“We need your expertise in disrupting telematics and communications to make sure that the driver and guards go off the grid.”

He nods to Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin as they come up.

“Once that’s done, Taehyung will disable the truck and keep watch as Jungkook steals the painting, and Jimin drives the getaway car.”

He takes his phone back and puts it in his pocket.

“The next three days will be spent going over everything, from every single detail of the truck itself, as well as all possible routes that the truck will be taking, even studying the city and traffic flow to be prepared for decisions made by their team on the fly.”

And then he looks at you and Jungkook specifically.

“I hope you’ll find our accommodations comfortable.”

You furrow your brow. “Accommodations?” 

“Yeah, here, at the warehouse,” Sejin replies. He gestures to some shadows behind him. “We’ve got cots set up for everyone. We hooked up running water to one of the old employee showers in the back. And there’ll be tons of food and drinks stocked in the break room fridge.”

You furrow your brow. “Hang on. You didn’t explain any of this in the---”

“Maybe I haven’t made things clear,” Sejin says. He’s losing patience, judging by the way he’s folding his arms, which prompts Jimin and Taehyung to stand and flank him. “You are doing this job. And you are doing it my way.”

Jimin and Taehyung grin at you as they hold up their guns, Jimin holding up a Beretta M9 in each hand, and Taehyung smirking as he leans back against his upturned AK-47.

“Where the fuck did those come from?” Jungkook mutters to you, his eyes wide.

You think through the situation carefully, but quickly. You obviously can’t outrun the guns. You’re stuck here for the night, at least. They won’t hurt you because they need you, so you’re presumably safe for the next three days. Sejin mentioned phases, which means he must have the resources to follow you, especially if he’s dared to set his sights on an original Gomez. The best thing to do is get through this job and get your take. Think about what you can control, and don’t worry about the rest. Focus on the scale of the task right in front of you. 

Treat this like any other job.

There’s something else keeping you from doing that, though. 

This job is vastly different in another way. There’s a thrill in the air, goosebumps flowering all over your body. 

You hate that you like this. 

You hate that you’re like this.

Sejin looks at you expectantly. “You wanna play with the big boys?” 

You meet Sejin’s eyes, and you give a small, wicked grin.

Sejin hovers over you and Jungkook, and for the first time, his smile looks sinister.

“Then get ready to work for it.”

“You’re there.”

Taehyung points his index and middle finger in a V to two cots that lie side by side.

“We’re there.”

He turns around and points his V to two more cots.

“Where’s Sejin sleeping?” Jungkook asks sarcastically. “The VIP room? The Presidential Suite?”

Taehyung giggles, but Jimin furrows his brow and shakes his head warningly at him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jimin says to Jungkook, with dead eyes and a fake smile.

You’re impressed at how quickly Jimin can turn the dazzle on and off.

“Jimin!” Sejin calls, and Jimin jogs back over to the card table.

Taehyung sits on one of the cots and lays his AK-47 across his lap. You stare at it, a little nervous. “Look,” he says, catching your slightly pained expression, “it’s like he said. I’ve worked with him on these projects for years. I’ve never seen him rough up a hire who just treated this whole thing professionally.”

“Sure,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“I mean it,” Taehyung says, seemingly earnestly. “He likes to use contractors only once. Just do what we say, and you’ll never see us again.” 

He looks up at you and wiggles his fingers expectantly.

You sigh and pull your trusty Sig Sauer M17 out of your jacket pocket. “And will I ever see this again?” you ask, handing it over to him.

“You’ll get it back in the morning,” he says, surprised that you even had to ask. Then, Taehyung realizes and says,  “He doesn’t mind if you have them on you when everyone’s awake. But at night, he wants all the guns kept in one place. As a precaution.”

Taehyung looks over at Jungkook and does the same.

“I meant it when I said I didn’t use protection,” Jungkook says with a naughty grin.

Taehyung doesn’t react. He just keeps his hand outstretched.

Jungkook frowns. And then he reaches into the back of his jeans and pulls out a Glock from his waistband. 

You scoff, meeting Jungkook’s playful smile with a sour expression. And then you sit down on the nearest cot. 

“Guess I’m sleeping on this one,” Jungkook says pointedly, watching you as he crosses to sit on the cot on the other side of yours.

You look at Taehyung thoughtfully, as he admires your gun. 

“You’re really gonna keep watch and everything?” you ask.

Taehyung looks around. “Well… I mean… yeah. That’s kind of why we have this whole setup.”

You huff. “How am I supposed to do all my work without my stuff?”

“Supplies are coming,” Taehyung says, taking the clip out of your gun and examining it. “Wow. For a computer nerd, you’ve kept your gun maintained really well. Clean. Responsive.” He smiles at you. “Good job.”

You scowl at Taehyung’s appraisal.

“Ooh, do me, do me!” Jungkook says excitedly.

You and Taehyung turn to look at him.

“Well, when you handed your gun to me, it was all sweaty, so…” Taehyung replies, looking a little disgusted. 

Jungkook nods knowingly. “It’s probably the leather pants. I always get swamp ass.”

You turn back to Taehyung, desperate to change the subject. “Is there a TV or something? Books? Anything for entertainment?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” Jungkook observes, making your blood boil.

Taehyung shakes his head, replacing the clip in your gun. “No entertainment except the kind we make for ourselves. Learn to appreciate the silence now.”

Groaning, you strip your jacket and shoes off and climb into the cot. “Fine. I’m going to sleep.”

“OK, then,” Taehyung says. “Night.”

You shut your eyes, but you still feel Taehyung’s eyes on you. You open your eyes again and look at him. “Wait, are you seriously going to watch us sleep?”

Taehyung nods. “That’s my job.” And then he smiles. “But it’s nice to have something pretty to look at for a change.”

You lie on your side and try not to lose it. In addition to the unintelligible mix of fear, anger, and annoyance, you feel pretty damn stupid for getting caught up in this mess. Especially when you had come into the warehouse thinking you were some kind of big shot.

Jungkook looks around the empty warehouse, clicking his teeth, punctuating the faraway conversation that Jimin and Sejin are having. Then, he sighs loudly, resigned, and takes off his jacket and boots. 

“I guess I’ll sleep too,” he says, getting into his cot and climbing under the blankets. 

He lies on his side and faces you, tucking his hands under the pillow.

“Sweet dreams,” Jungkook says to you, with a cheesy grin. 

“Ugh,” you reply, rolling over and shutting your eyes.

You’ve always been a good sleeper. You can block out most things. You can force yourself to sleep. It’s a good thing, given some of the work you’ve done. The things that you’ve needed to block out. So, despite the knots in your stomach, the clicking of Taehyung messing with and muttering with repugnance at Jungkook’s sweaty gun, and Jimin and Sejin’s hushed voices, you start to fade.

The problem isn’t that you can’t sleep.

The problem is what you see when you sleep.

And what you hear. 

What you feel. 

Faces of the people you’ve had to put down. Gravel pressing into your cheek as a foot holds your head to the ground. Screaming. Bullets ricocheting. That nasty stab wound that you got in your thigh, millimeters away from your femoral artery.

Even the smaller jobs have their ghosts. Under the right context, a twig could snap, and you’d abandon everything to start over somewhere else. The thing that you listen for most, though, are strange footsteps crossing in front of your apartment. This apartment, or the one in the city before, or the one before that. You listen for the sound of boots. Guns cocked and at the ready. Whispered directions from a team lead. People could argue that to you, all footsteps are unfamiliar, with how often you move. But people also don’t know how to tell the difference between unfamiliar and strange. 

The other life, the one that you had with Mom and Pops, is far away. No one in your family asks you any major questions. They’re just happy for the new TV, or that month’s mortgage check, or the money for Granny’s surgery. They tell you how proud of you they are all the time. That they love and miss you. But you haven’t seen them or been home in 10 years. No one asks you to come home, either. You’re partially thankful, because that would put them at risk. But you also get the sense that they fear what your shiny, new eyes would take in, seeing them in the meager life that they lead.

The worst dreams, by far, are the ones from your childhood. Tons of sunlight. Backyard grass between your toes. Mom singing while she cooked. Pops singing along, off-key. Friends telling funny jokes. Warm hugs. Beautiful reminders of how happy and simple things to be.

Gut-wrenching reminders of how things got so messed up.

You wouldn’t have expected such a delightful breakfast buffet to be showcased on a rusty, dust-covered card table in a warehouse forgotten by time, but then again, you’ve never met someone quite like Taehyung. 

He places a hand to block Jimin from reaching for some eggs.

“Wait!” Taehyung exclaims.

He looks around and places the last few flowers on the table, turning the spread into a social media-worthy post.

“Aw, excellent touch, Tae!” Jimin cheers, ruffling Taehyung’s hair. 

Taehyung beams with pride. You have no idea where he found those flowers. You hadn’t thought about it, but you wouldn’t have expected a munitions expert to have this kind of an eye for delicate aesthetics. Now that you see how his eyes gleam at the breakfast spread, the same way his eyes gleamed at the elegance of your Sig Sauer, which is comfortably and reassuringly back in your jacket pocket, you realize that it kind of makes sense.

There’s a nuanced beauty to both.

You and Jungkook try to stifle your shared, fond smiles as best as you can. You hand him a paper plate, and he falls in line behind Jimin.

“Did you guys cook all of this?” Jungkook asks, heaping piles and piles of food onto his plate.

Taehyung and Jimin laugh. “No, we do a food run every morning,” Jimin explains. “Sejin likes us to start the morning like this. Puts us in a good mood.”

“Ah, a benevolent overlord,” Jungkook reflects.

You notice that Jungkook’s plate can barely keep its form under all the weight of his food, so you quickly shove four or five more plates underneath it, and into his hand, just in time. 

Jungkook looks at you sheepishly, but thankfully. You just shake your head.

“What time does Sejin usually get in?” you ask, starting to make a plate of your own.

“Around 11 or so,” Taehyung says.

“So we have the morning to ourselves?” Jungkook asks hopefully. ���I was wondering if I could pop out to a store really quick and get a toothbrush, some toothpaste, body wash, ooh, maybe my face cream---”

“Supplies are coming,” Taehyung repeats in sing-song, adjusting some of the flowers on the table and looking back up at you. “No leaving the premises.”

You and Jungkook sit in your chairs from last night and start chowing down. Jimin and Taehyung choose to sit on their cots. You know this move. This is basically the same thing that happens in high school cafeterias. Can’t get too friendly with the new kids. Especially if you’re kind of holding them hostage.

Jungkook stares at you as he chews, and though you avoid his gaze at first, you eventually scoff and say, “What do you want?”

“Did you sleep well?” he asks.

“Yeah, I got a full eight hours.”

“But did you sleep well?” he asks again.

You startle at the way he asks it this time.

“Sure,” you say robotically.

Jungkook nods, but he looks like he doesn’t believe you.

“Were you also watching me while I slept?” you demand, feeling cagey.

“Just making conversation,” Jungkook says, shrugging and looking back at his plate.

In addition to the actual casualties in your line of work, your ability to chat with people who know more about who you are has waned. Yes, you are charming and have a natural ability with people, but it’s the kind of ability that’s more akin to an alien who has adopted the rituals and practices of humans after years of observation. You can put on a show and string together vague and interesting sentences to distract people from what’s really happening, but you struggle to find the next thing to say to keep a conversation moving.

Figuring that things would run smoother if you practiced that skill now, you take a deep breath and fix your eyes on Jungkook as he shoves two slices of bacon into his mouth. “Did… did you sleep well?” you try.

Jungkook smiles, bacon hanging out of the side of his mouth. “Like a corpse,” he says, grease dribbling where his lips meet. He pokes the ends of his bacon slices into his mouth, chews quickly, and then swallows. After wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he says, “Sorry if I was prying.”

“It’s OK,” you say. 

“Can’t believe you’re The Seller,” Jungkook goes on. “I’ve heard about you.”

You shrug. “Don’t know if that’s a good thing.”

“All I hear are good things,” he tells you. “I’m not much for planning, but the people I’ve worked with who’ve worked with you have said that you have a certain… poise.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “Huh.”

Jungkook smirks. “This surprises you? Even with your reputation?”

First Sejin and his lackeys, and now Jungkook. You feel a little proud.

“I’ve just never heard it said out loud before,” you admit. “And certainly not in one 24-hour span.”

“You work a lot?” 

“All I do is work.” You stick your fork in a sausage link. “But I don’t actually talk to many people.”

“I get that.” He looks at you. “Do you ever miss that part though?”

“If I’m being honest, I never was really one for small talk.”

“I get that, too.”

You look up at Jungkook, and his expression tells you that he doesn’t mean it as a criticism. He just understands, somehow.

“You seem good at it, though,” you say. “I never know what to say past a certain point.”

He repeats, “You ask a lot of questions.”

And he laughs at your resulting pout.

“I just meant that you’re not as bad as you think you are,” Jungkook replies. “And compliments work too,” he adds gently, acknowledging what you’ve observed about him and showing you an example of what to do, all in one response. 

Your pout recedes a little.

You finish the rest of your food and start to feel sleepy again. You’ve got another hour, and you wonder if it’s a good idea to fall into the food coma that looms over you.

“I’m going to take a nap,” you say, standing and throwing your plate, fork, and spoon into the trash bag that Taehyung has tied to the table using the stem of a sweet, purple flower.

“I knew you didn’t sleep well,” Jungkook says under his breath.

You turn around and furrow your brow at him.

Jungkook explains. 

“When I woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, I noticed that you were crying in your sleep.”

Jimin directs a truck as it backs its trailer into the warehouse loading bay. You stir and rouse from your nap at the yelling and beeping. 

As you look around, you notice that Jungkook has scaled an old railing and is watching from his seat on a dilapidated fire escape balcony.

You walk over and look up at him.

“What are you doing up there?” you ask.

“Just watching,” Jungkook says. He peers down at you with a smile. “I like getting up high and scoping places out. Gives me a good idea of the space I have to work with.”

Makes sense, you think. 

Curious, you scale the railing carefully and join him. He smiles at you as you both straddle the dirty window pane to get a better look. The two of you may find it amusing, the way Jimin is swinging his arms around, but the truck driver is getting annoyed.

“What the hell are you doing? Get out of the way!” the truck driver yells.

“You’re going to scrape the wall!” Jimin cries out.

“Really? You’re gonna try to guide me??” the truck driver shouts over the engine, as they start to bicker. 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m trying to do!”

“I don’t need a fucking stewardess!”

“You mean an air traffic controller, dumbass!”

Jungkook giggles, and you roll your eyes, though you’re trying to fight a smirk.

“Listen, kid, I’ve been doing this every day for the last 30 years!”

“All the more reason you need me!” Jimin snaps back. He throws his arms out to the side emphatically. “Turn left, you ancient fuck!”

You cackle suddenly at the choice phrasing, and Jungkook whips his head around to face you, thrilled that he’s hearing something come out of your mouth in a major key.

For some reason, when Jungkook smiles at you, you feel very embarrassed, and you look down at the ground. It’s unnerving, you decide, going from existing completely independently, to suddenly sharing an entire vantage point with eyes as curious and insistent as Jungkook’s.

He’s about to say something, but then Taehyung claps before making an announcement.

“Supplies are here!” 

Taehyung waves the two of you over. 

“Time to unpack.”

You and Jungkook climb back down, and you join Taehyung, Jimin, and Si-hyuk the Truck Driver to set up an assembly line of sorts, shuttling guns, ammunition, lightweight tables, steel suitcases, car parts, and all sorts of electronics back and forth between the truck trailer and the warehouse. 

Now that it’s daytime, and now that you’re moving around the entire warehouse, you see that certain areas are dedicated to certain jobs. Jimin has set up a garage of sorts just off to the side. Taehyung has a whole barrage of his own, tucked away in some secret room. And you’re taking over the card table in the main area for your own control room.

As Jungkook hands off materials to you, he tries to find your eyes. Most of the time, you go about your work without fussing, trying your best to follow Sejin’s instructions. But sometimes, every now and then, the hand-off from Jungkook will be sloppy, or awkward, and he has to grab your hands in his to make sure you don’t drop something. 

When this happens, you look up. Startled. 

And he meets your gaze. Eager.

You swear that he’s doing this on purpose. 

But he’s not going to get a rise out of you. You’re already starting to feel more sure of yourself as you lay out all of your materials on the card table. This is where you’re most comfortable. This is where you’re safest. Behind screens and wires. Behind codes and pseudonyms. Behind shields that protect you from having to deal with any real fallout. Behind life, instead of right smack dab in the middle of it.

“Need anything else?” Jungkook asks, watching you pore over your supplies.

“No,” you say, nearly cutting him off without so much as a glance at him. 

Jungkook lingers, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. You can still feel his presence. You can still feel his eyes on you.

“What?” you ask, annoyed, still not looking at him.

“Sorry,” Jungkook replies, his tone indicating that he’s starting to get annoyed with you as well. “I just thought that it would be interesting to see you work. Y’know. You being The Seller and all.”

You groan. Flattery will get him nowhere.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of awkward, by the way?” Jungkook asks. You’re focusing on your work and not the way he scrunches up his nose. “The Seller? Is that how you’d like me to address you?”

“How about you just don’t address me.”

“That’s going to be impossible, given that we’re supposed to be working together,” he responds. “Can’t you just use your name? Or any actual name? Y’know, honestly, it doesn’t even have to be a name. Just something that doesn’t have ‘The’ in it.”

You take a much needed, patience-refueling breath, and Jungkook watches your shoulders rise and fall.

“Call me whatever you want,” you say. “I really don’t give a fuck.”

“Maybe just Seller,” Jungkook tries. “Hey, Seller. You got any Ranches, Seller? Give me your gun, Seller.” A pause. And then, “What about just Sel for short?”

“As you’ve just pointed out, we’re supposed to be working, so shouldn’t you get started?” you snap. 

And then you scoff. 

“Oh. Right. You probably don’t have any work to start, seeing as you’re just the muscle.”

“Hey, now. Being the muscle takes hard work too, Sel,” Jungkook says coolly.

Against your better judgment, you turn to frown and hurl more insults at him.

But you see him stripping off his shirt, and your face and brain go blank.

Now that Jungkook’s shirtless, and, uh, stretching… well, you discover that he’s bulkier and more fit than you realized. His flawless baby face doesn’t seem like it would be accompanied by mountainous muscles in every part of his body, and yet, here they are, fully on display. But the strongest muscles on display might be the ones in his lips, pulling his mouth into a devilish smile, prompted by the way you’re staring at him.

“So that’s how to get your attention,” he muses.

You whirl back around to re-focus on your work. 

But a few minutes later, you hear Jungkook grunting.

You fight the impulse to turn back around at first, but there’s nothing to drown out Jungkook’s voice. 

“Could you please---”

When you turn around this time, you see Jungkook doing push-ups. He’s going surprisingly fast. He’s already worked up a sweat. 

Your jaw opens a little.

Jungkook hoists himself up and pauses to turn and face you.

You snap your jaw shut.

“It’s OK,” Jungkook snickers. “You can watch.” He shakes his head to keep some sweat from dripping off his hair and into his eyes. “In fact, move your chair to the other side of the table so that you don’t have to keep turning around. You might sprain your neck.”

“I’ll just come back when you’re done,” you decide quickly.

“Oh, I’m never done,” Jungkook presses on, his voice heavy with effort. He sends you another smirk. “This body doesn’t quit.”

Irritated, you set your things down on the table and march over to another side of the warehouse, a part of the floor that was clearly a machinery storage space, and perfect for what Jimin needs to begin arranging and working on the car parts that have come off the truck.

“Need help?” you ask urgently. “I can help. Please tell me you need help.”

“Don’t you also have work to do?” Jimin asks without looking up.

“I do, but…”

Jimin waits for you to say something, but you just stare at the body of the stolen car that Jimin has just a couple of days to fill with chopped parts. 

He follows your gaze, and then he looks over to where you’ve just left, seeing Jungkook doing a million push-ups a minute.

Jimin chuckles. “Distracting?”

“Annoying,” you correct.

“Well, you’re not gonna be any happier over here.”

You frown. Why does everyone keep underestimating you? You know a lot about cars. You might even know more than Jimin.

“And why’s that?”

Jimin flashes you a full-toothed smile. 

He starts to take off his shirt, too. 

You get a peek of his lean, defined frame before you roll your eyes.

“Can’t stain the Gucci,” he says, setting the luxurious button-down on a shelf that’s out of the way. He turns back to you, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. “This gonna distract you, too?” 

You walk over to the set of tools that Jimin has laid out on a nearby table. 

“No, so long as you aren’t grunting like an ox the entire time.”

Perusing the items in front of you, your eyes land on the engine that Jimin is about to fix up.

“So. What good are you to me?” he asks.

“I know this is a boxer engine,” you reply. “I know that you’re probably choosing it for stability and smoother acceleration.”

“You really are a nerd,” Jimin scoffs, joining you at the table. He picks up a wrench and gestures to the engine’s overall configuration. “The horizontal design keeps the car’s center of gravity low.” He gestures to pistons laying across each other. “The balanced pistons keep vibrations down. Keeps things… smooth.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you as he runs a hand across his chest and down the tattoo at his side.

“Whatever ,” you mutter, rolling up your sleeves. “Let’s get started already.”

Jimin laughs as he drops his hand, and, thankfully, the act. “Fine.”

You follow his instructions, and unbeknownst to you, hours go by. As you work, you wonder what phase of the plan led to him getting these parts. Sejin ordered a four-bedroom, which meant a four-person team. You didn’t think there would be a Si-hyuk the Truck Driver. Who else in this city is part of the job, or the network? And where did these parts come from? What shops have funneled these resources in? 

How extensive is Sejin’s organization, exactly?

Jungkook walks over and watches the pair of you working.

“Jimin? Sel?”

You look up, having forgotten about Jungkook completely, and disappointed that he’s interrupting you now. 

“Sel?” Jimin asks, turning to you. “Is that what you go by?”

You raise your eyebrows, pleading with Jungkook to stop this in its tracks.

“That’s what I’m calling her, at least,” Jungkook says, grinning playfully at you. “Anyway, Taehyung left his secret room to say that dinner’s here.”

“Shit,” you grumble. You can’t believe you’ve lost track of time.

Sejin’s voice booms as he rounds the corner into this area of the warehouse.

“Hey, why don’t I see---”

Sejin frowns at the sight of you, an oil-stained and shirtless Jimin, and a sweaty and shirtless Jungkook.

He turns to Jimin.

“Look, you can’t keep shooting these weird car pornos during your downtime. It’s a huge risk.”

“I’m not,” Jimin says nonchalantly. “Besides, that gig wasn’t paying well anyway.”

Jungkook shoots a bewildered look at you, made even more incredulous when you don’t respond in kind.

“I was just doing work on the car,” Jimin continues. He nods over to Jungkook, who straightens and flattens his face. “That one was working out.” He nods over to you. “This one was helping me.”

“Which brings me back to my point,” Sejin cuts in. 

His shrewd eyes zero in on you quietly tightening a bolt, hoping that if you keep appearing useful in some way, even if it’s an unexpected way, he won’t be angry with you.

“Why don’t I see your so-called masterful control room built out at the main table?” Sejin demands.

“Wanted to help,” you mumble.

“Help by doing your share of the work,” Sejin reprimands. He says it so casually. And it’s been a long while since you’ve thought about God. But the calm, extremely neutral way he says it somehow puts the fear of God into your heart.

“I’ll be up and running by this evening,” you reply. “You won’t lose any time.”

“Sel did actually help,” Jimin replies. “This’ll help me free up time to---”

Sejin narrows his eyes at Jimin. 

“Don’t do that.”

You know that Jimin knew that he would catch some heat for vouching for you, but you appreciate him doing it anyway.

“OK. I’m out for the night,” Sejin continues. “Taehyung says your dinner is here. Hope you all enjoy.” He looks back at Jimin again. “We need to chat. Walk me to my car.”

As he and Jimin leave, you try your best to bite your tongue, but by the time you get to dinner, you’ve lost all self-control.

“Is he always like that?” you grumble, as you push your meat and potatoes around your plate.

You’ve usurped the card table to make room for your supplies, so the remaining four of you are now gathered around a pot roast feast set on a smaller table, a couple of feet away from your so-called control room.

“Who?” Taehyung asks.

You mutter, “Sejin.”

“What’d he say?” Taehyung asks nervously.

“He got mad at me for helping Jimin.” You huff. “It was so unnecessary.”

“Well, you weren’t doing your work,” Jungkook points out.

For some reason, you’re still so annoyed that he’s shirtless.

“You weren’t doing any work,” you snap.

“Yeah, I was. Remember? I’m the muscle,” Jungkook says simply. While he flexes. 

“Anyway,” you press on, focusing on Taehyung and Jimin, “I’m just wondering how big of a stick Sejin typically has up his ass.”

“Probably about as big as the take from the job he’s working on at the time,” Jimin says quietly but pointedly.

You’re about to open your mouth again, but when you remember that Jimin came to your defense, you find the wherewithal to pause.

“Well, thanks, Jimin, for… y’know. Sticking up for me.”

“Thanks for helping, Sel!” Jimin answers with a grin. But when Taehyung meets Jimin’s expression with one of confusion, Jimin shakes the expression of gratitude and happiness off of his face, turning the charm off and replacing it with cold, off-putting, Sejin-esque neutrality. “But you probably should just stick to your own work from now on.”

You furrow your brow. You tire quickly of people who run hot and cold. 

You set your plate down without eating, and you walk over to your workstation. You hear the guys talking in low voices and sharing idle chatter. 

Eventually, you let yourself get lost in the work that you’re doing. You’ve done it so many times that you don’t have to think actively about each step. Connecting all the cables. Setting up your back channels. Creating your own universe, only to navigate it in complete anonymity. 

The gallery’s CCTV system is relatively easy to hack into, considering what’s at stake. You want to tell Sejin that it makes more sense for you to save this work for off-hours anyway, under the cloak of night. You want to point out that you’ve actually saved him a lot more than just time.

“How’s it looking?”

You turn around, and Jungkook is standing behind you, still shirtless, and still all wet. 

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he grins at you. “I mean your screens. I don’t mean my body.”

“Ugh, fucking gross,” you groan, turning back to your monitors. 

“Oh, this isn’t sweat,” Jungkook explains, thinking that’s where your disgust is coming from. “I used the shower. It’s actually pretty nice. Good water pressure.”

You frown. You could use a shower. You still smell like motor oil and transmission fluid. 

“Taehyung also got us some clean clothes,” Jungkook replies, his voice muffled. You turn and realize that he’s putting something on. And you notice that he’s no longer wearing his black leather, but black sweats that are two sizes too big.

Jungkook tugs down on the hem of the sweatshirt and straightens it onto his body before reaching for one of the chairs.

“No,” you say. “Fuck off.”

“C’mon,” Jungkook whines. “You saw me hard at work. Now I wanna see you.”

You scoff. “You? What hard work did you do?”

Jungkook raises the hem of his sweatshirt to flash you his abs. “Do you not think this is hard work?”

“Exercise?” you ask with a scowl.

Jungkook pulls up a chair and sits next to you. “Exercise is hard work. And it’s kind of a necessity in my profession.”

You know he’s right. His profession just doesn’t appeal to you at all. It just seems so unabashedly… brainless.

“Well, thinking is a necessity in my profession, and I can’t think when you’re around,” you state.

Jungkook beams.

“Because you’re so damn bothersome,” you clarify.

Jungkook pouts. “Y’know, I don’t think you’re bad at small talk. I think you’re just mean.”

“I am,” you agree with no issue, focusing on your code.

Jungkook stands, and at first, you’re grateful that he’s going to leave. But then all he does is spin the chair around and manspread around it, stacking his arms on the back of the chair and resting his head as he watches you.

After a while of him just sitting there, pouting, and watching you, you relent.

“...Do you want me to explain what I’m doing?” you ask.

Jungkook raises his head and beams at you again. His white teeth are tinged blue, and you realize that the only light in the room is coming from your screens.

You take stills from each of the cameras but leave the bottom of the frame intact so as not to disturb the timestamp and raise suspicion. You swap the feeds with the stills. It looks flawless, as usual.

Jungkook agrees. “Damn. I wouldn’t have even known anything was different if I hadn’t just seen you do it.”

You furrow your brow. “I haven’t even done anything substantial yet.”

You need the plans for the Gomez delivery, including the mapped routes, and the identities of the driver, the guards, and the escort. You also need more information about the gallery’s telematics software. 

The plans are easy enough to locate. They’re saved on the desktop of the computer in the back room. They’re not even password-protected. 

You wonder if anybody’s even trying anymore.

As you keep an eye on the real CCTV feed, watching the screens flashing as you download the files, you relate what you’re doing to Jungkook. But your heart starts to sink. This isn’t the thrill you thought it would be.

You turn your attention to finding out about the telematics software, the system that the gallery will use to ensure that they know the location of the vehicle carrying the Gomez at all times.

You can’t find any information about it on any of the computers in the gallery, which means that the operations team must work somewhere else.

Finally, you think. A challenge.

A small, soft smile appears on your lips.

“Hmm,” Jungkook says, mirroring your expression, though you miss it in the cave of your concentration.

You pore through employee emails, trying to get any kind of indication of which software it could be. When you find nothing, your smile grows bigger.

When you stand, Jungkook stands.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

You startle. You’d kind of forgotten that Jungkook was watching.

“That’s it for tonight.”

“Really? You already got everything?”

“No, we start again tomorrow.”

Jungkook grins. “We?”

You blush a little. You don’t know why you said it that way. But technically, there are four of you working together.

“I just meant that the work starts again tomorrow,” you say matter-of-factly. It’s your best attempt at trying not to let on that Jungkook has you a bit frazzled. “Now, what were you saying about a shower?”

Jungkook sits back down. “They’re the old employee showers, in the back. Past the break room. Look out for an orange cone. It’s in the middle of a small corridor that leads you straight there.”

The shower stalls are exactly where Jungkook said it would be. You note the stall that has water droplets, and you sweep the shower curtain back to start the faucet. Taehyung’s been kind enough to get more than just the basic toiletries. A nice shampoo and conditioner set. Body wash instead of just cheap bar soap. You also notice that there’s a small jar of fancy face cream, which you assume is Jungkook’s preferred brand.

You strip off your clothes and hang them over the stall walls. You cringe at the sharp metal-on-metal sting of the shower curtain rings sliding over the rod. And then you luxuriate a bit, taking time to feel the warmth of the water on your skin, agreeing with Jungkook that the water pressure is perfect, the showerhead producing something akin to tiny massages all over your body.

“You forgot these!”

“Aaah!!”

You nearly slip in the stall, being caught off-guard like that. Luckily, your hold on the stall walls is solid enough to keep you from falling.

“Sorry,” Jungkook adds meekly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He says something else.

You turn the shower off.

“What?” you ask. You could barely hear him, save for that first surprising greeting.

“I said sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. And, um, I’ve got a towel and those sweats that Taehyung got. Something for you to change into.”

“Oh,” you say. Jungkook’s helpfulness surprises you, too. You hadn’t thought forward to what you were doing after the shower. You just know you needed one right away.

“Just set them down,” you say. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“I don’t know, everything’s kinda grimy in here... but I can hold them for you, or hang them on the stall wall like I did with mine, or---”

“Ugh, just give me a second.”

You start the shower again and finish rinsing off, taking a few more seconds to enjoy the steam. When you’re done, you turn off the shower and turn to face the curtain, and a disquieting thought, plus the absence of hot water, sends a shock through your system.

The shower curtain is white. 

And thin. 

Perhaps too thin.

“Um, you can’t see me or anything, right?” you double-check.

“No,” Jungkook replies.

You figure that he’s telling you the truth. You can’t see him, either. All you see is his silhouette, made bigger by those baggy sweats. 

Your hand darts out past the curtain, waving blindly for the towel.

Terry cloth fabric touches your fingertips, and you pull the towel into the stall with you. You dry off quickly and wrap your hair in the towel when you’re done.

Your hand darts out past the curtain again, waving blindly for the sweats.

Jungkook hands you a pair of boxers.

“What the hell are these?” you ask.

“I guess he didn’t anticipate you being a woman,” Jungkook replies.

You roll your eyes and slip them on anyway. 

You reach back out.

Jungkook hands you the sweatpants next.

You start to slip them on, but you realize that they’re way too big and long for you.

“OK, these aren’t going to work. I’m going to trip everywhere I go.”

You shove your hand back outside, and Jungkook gingerly takes the pants back before giving you the sweatshirt.

You slip that on, and you find that it falls to your knees.

“Taehyung managed to buy you your fancy face cream, but he couldn’t get me clothes that fit?” you pout.

“Oh, I had to blow him to get that face cream.”

You freeze.

“I’m kidding, Sel,” Jungkook replies.

You smile. But you’re thankful that you’re behind the curtain when you do it.

You shake it off your face before you step out of the shower and back into your shoes. You bend down to unwrap your hair, squeezing it dry and letting the towel hang around your shoulders as you gather your hair to one side, combing your fingers through it.

Jungkook watches you delicately, looking so tiny in that sweater, seeing you so clearly now, and  just averting his eyes to the ceiling when you look up at him.

“Thanks,” you say.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies.

You walk back out to the main area and climb into your cots.

You realize that you’re facing each other as you settle in to sleep.

“Uh, night,” Jungkook says.

You blink at him.

“...Night.”

You turn around and pull the covers over your head, but you still feel Jungkook’s eyes on you.

You think about how Mom always told you that going to sleep with wet hair was bad luck.

“This is really how you do it?” 

You place a finger to your lips to remind him to be quiet.

Jungkook turns pink, embarrassed that he could have ruined the call.

“Yes,” you continue on speakerphone, “I’m with Tracker Telematics and I’d just like to learn about your telematics needs. Are you happy with your current software?”

“Let me connect you to our operations manager,” the secretary answers lazily. You watch him on the CCTV feed. He looks young. Like this might be his first job. 

Once the call is put through, someone else says, “Operations, how can I help you?” 

“Hi, I’m with Tracker Telematics. Your secretary said that I’m speaking with the operations manager?”

“That’s right.”

“Great, happy to be speaking with you today!” you say, and Jungkook stifles laughs at your peppy, animated voice. “I’d just like to learn about your tracking needs. Are you happy with your current telematics software?”

You playfully look up at the ceiling at how stupid you have to be on these calls, exchanging funny glances with Jungkook.

“We’re Logistimatics customers, and yes, we’re very happy,” the operations manager says quickly.

“But are you up to speed on all our latest features?” you ask, keeping an eye on the Tracker Telematics page that you’ve pulled up onto one of your monitors. “We’ve recently introduced a standalone Electronic Logging Device that can integrate with third-party systems.”

You check the timer on your tracer. Just a few more seconds, and you’ll be done. You technically don’t need the operations office’s location, especially now that you’ve identified Logistimatics as the company you’re going to organize your bots to target for your DDoS attack, but it’ll be a nice backup to be able to shut down the operations office if things go sideways.

“Now hang on, that actually sounds pretty interesting,” the operations manager replies. “So, you’re saying that I could still keep my Logistimatics software but add additional ELDs as necessary?”

“That’s correct, sir,” you say, without knowing if that’s actually correct.

“Hmm. So would I just pay the price of the device, or is there a contract that I have to sign?”

“We’ve got all sorts of pricing bundles tailored to meet different needs,” you reply, as the tracer flashes and lets you know the general area of where the call is coming from. You find it interesting that the operations office is located so far away. That may bode well for your team.

“What if I---”

“Why don’t I schedule you for an appointment with one of our product leads?” you ask. “Would next Wednesday work for you?”

“You called me,” the operations manager points out. “You mean to tell me you can’t stay on the line with---”

“I’m just here to talk about the features and set up your next call,” you explain.

“See, this is exactly why we’re Logistimatics customers,” the operations manager says, irritated. “Their customer service is---”

You hang up, having received all the information that you need, and then you turn to Jungkook and grin.

“I can’t believe that’s really how you do it,” Jungkook laughs. “I thought you got all of your information through hacking and snooping. Not through fake sales calls.”

You shrug. “Things are never as glamorous as they seem, Jungkook.”

When you turn back to your monitor, you miss the way Jungkook is haloed in the glow of you using his name.

“Alright, the Seller bots are hard at work. Last thing I need are the security details.” You turn to Jungkook. “Wanna give it a try?”

“Ooh!” Jungkook exclaims, moving his chair closer to you. 

You set up the call and instruct Jungkook on what to do.

You raise the phone up, level with Jungkook’s lips.

The secretary answers on the second ring. “LM Gallery.”

“Security office, please,” Jungkook replies.

“Hold.”

The secretary pushes the call through, and someone else replies, “Security office.”

“Hi, I’m with Kim Indemnity,” Jungkook says, looking at the page you’ve pulled for the cover story. “I’m updating your insurance records and want to make sure I’ve got the correct security system on file. What’s your current provider?”

“Shield Systems,” the security manager replies. 

“Thanks, that’s all I need,” Jungkook replies. “Have a great day!”

“You, too.”

The call ends, and you smirk at Jungkook’s happy, proud face. 

“Well done. You’re a natural.”

“I mean, you literally told me what to do, so I did get expert training.”

You and Jungkook share a smile, and a nice, light moment that you weren’t expecting to enjoy. You prefer working alone, but it’s kind of nice to show someone the ropes. Usually, you make these calls when you’re in your pajamas, eating breakfast while on hold, the milk of your cereal dripping down the corner of your mouth when you jump back on the phone sooner than you anticipated. It doesn’t feel that different now, given that you’re in boxers and a sweatshirt. But you realize that you’ve been way too lenient with your reconnaissance calls as of late. Doing a bit of show and tell is making you feel like there’s actual effort that’s put behind even the most menial task of the job. That things like this still matter.

“So now what?” Jungkook asks, as you type.

“Well, the bots are already doing their thing to the Logistimatics servers. We’ve got details on the team escorting the painting, and if none of them try to play the hero, they won’t be too difficult to manage. And you’ve just given me details on the security systems they use, so we should be able to get into the safe in the back of the truck without any issues,” you explain. “So, now, we wait.”

You stand and stretch. 

“I think I might go outside,” you say. “Get some fresh air. Maybe jog a little.”

Jungkook rises to his feet. “Can I join you?”

“Sure,” you say.

The two of you walk over to Taehyung and Jimin, who have just finished polishing off the rest of their brunch.

“Mind if we get some fresh air out back?” you ask. 

“Someone should really be outside with you,” Jimin replies. From the way he’s draped over the couch, his eyelids heavy, it’s clear that he doesn’t want it to be him. 

“Look, you have my car keys, and here’s my gun,” you say, setting it on the ground in front of you. “I just need half an hour.”

“What about your work?” Taehyung asks.

“My bots are already running,” you say, rolling your eyes. “And I’d like to go for a run for myself. I’m getting antsy being cooped up in here.”

“Just stay in that loading bay area, then,” Jimin replies, waving you off. He knows you won’t really leave your gun behind, but also, the loading bay area is secured by a gate. You won’t be able to get out at all.

You reach for the table and grab some plastic cutlery. The spoon, fork, and knife are bunched together with a rubber band, which you take and use to tie your hair up as best as you can.

And then you and Jungkook head outside, enjoying the sun on your faces.

You both start to stretch. Ten laps should do the trick. Just enough to work up a bit of a sweat. Just enough to remind you that your bones have joints that can swing and move.

Jungkook takes the pace quite quickly from the get-go. He rounds his second lap and meets you halfway through your first.

“I thought we said ten laps,” he says with a grin.

“We did,” you say, annoyed. “But it isn’t a race.”

Jungkook keeps pace with you.

“You really go this slow?”

“I’m not a fast runner.”

“Then why run at all?”

You sigh, aggravated. 

Jungkook edges forward teasingly and looks over his shoulder back at you. “You sure you can’t go faster than that?”

You frown. You contemplate picking up a handful of broken concrete to throw at his stupid face.

He turns around completely, running backwards at his slightly quicker pace.

“You sure you can even do ten laps?”

Suddenly, you take off running at full-speed. 

“Hey!” Jungkook cries out, running to catch you.

You really only run to make sure you get some kind of exercise during your very sedentary days. But your body has made this decision for you. You don’t actually know why you’re now sprinting. You try to ask, but the only question that bubbles to the surface is whether Jungkook has caught up with you or not.

You start to tire out, and Jungkook makes his move. Soon, he’s completed all ten of his laps while you’ve gassed after about five. 

He catches up with you again. You’re now walking and frowning, sweating bullets, and the angriest that you’ve been since you got here.

“Aw, Sel, don’t tell me you’ve given up,” Jungkook teases, bouncing as he runs. 

You’re too out of breath to say anything, so you just veer off and head back inside to grab another shower, hoping that your regular clothes that you washed in the shower with you last night are dry enough to change into.

Jungkook jogs behind you, each tap of his feet against the floor another gloating reminder of his superiority.

“So you’re mean, you’re bad at small talk, you’re great at being fake, and you’re a sore loser.”

“And you’re an irritating show-off.”

Jungkook chuckles, his jaw hanging open. “You really are a sore loser!”

You’re about to lay into him, but Jimin interrupts you both as you rejoin them in the warehouse.

“Car’s done,” he says. “Need to take it for a test drive.”

“Have fun,” Jungkook says absent-mindedly, turning back to you to tease you a bit more.

“You’re coming with,” Jimin says, wiping his hands on an oily rag. “We need to stash your cars somewhere along the two routes that they’re most likely to take.”

“Can I at least shower first?” you ask, exhausted.

Jimin looks over you both. 

“Ten minutes.”

You and Jungkook exchange glances. 

And then you race to your cots, and then to the bathroom.

“Yes!” Jungkook exclaims, his voice echoing off the tile and announcing that he got to the stall first. 

“Hurry up,” you sigh as you catch up, getting even more frustrated with Jungkook by the minute.

Jungkook strips out of his clothes impressively quickly, and you blush crimson when you see that he’s stepping out of his boxers, too. As he stands back up, you see that his back muscles are so well-defined, marked by strong bold lines that roll beautifully into one another. And his ass is so round, and strong, and---

You turn around, clutching your towel and clothes to your chest. “I’m gonna wait outside.”

“You can look if you want,” Jungkook teases. “Consider it a consolation prize for losing.”

You stomp outside and stand by the orange cone in the corridor, trying to block out Jungkook’s triumphant laugh.

But you can’t.

Nor can you stop thinking about the slices of angles that you’ve seen of him so far throughout this ever-so-slightly concerning hostage situation. His beautiful body, and his beautiful face. It’s all you’ve had to look at for the past 36 hours. And if you’re being honest with yourself, it beats staring at a beige wall of nothing. 

At least he smiles back.

And that’s your favorite slice of him so far.

You feel someone tap you on the shoulder, and you whirl around, getting ready to punch whoever it is.

But it’s only Jungkook, who deftly swerves your attack and raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“Whoa,” he says, laughing. “You’ve got a mean overhand.” He grins. “Almost as mean as you are.”

“Are you done??” you ask stupidly, as Jungkook grabs at the knot in the towel around his waist. 

“Yeah, that’s what I was coming to tell you,” Jungkook laughs. “Shower’s all yours.”

You sigh and march back to the shower stall.

Tiringly, Jungkook’s voice follows you.

“You train in boxing or something?”

“A bit,” you say cryptically.

You get in the shower fully-clothed.

“Want me to hold your clothes for you?”

“I’m fine.” 

You hang your clothes over the end of the shower stall wall, where they can stay dry. You don’t see him, but Jungkook licks his lips when he sees your bra placed on top. It’s just a basic black bra, but it’s making him wonder about what that bra holds. He wonders about the rest of you, too. 

He watches your silhouette again, smiling to himself as you reach up to adjust the showerhead, or as you flip your hair down to shampoo and condition it thoroughly. The lines that your body makes are driving him wild.

When you’re done with your shower, you change quickly into your clothes and step out of the stall into your shoes to find Jungkook still undressed, staring at the curtain.

“Why are you still here?” you ask, the shower having done nothing to cool you off.

Jungkook blinks. “Just wanted to make sure you were OK.”

You roll your eyes and head back to your cot, Jungkook taking a few minutes to change before he catches up with you in the corridor.

Jimin hands you the keys to the car that he’s been working on.

“I’m driving this car?” you ask.

Jimin ignores your question. He’s taken your and Jungkook’s car keys from wherever Taehyung’s been stashing your things. He hands Jungkook’s keys to Taehyung. And he keeps your keys for himself.

Taehyung and Jimin usher you to the car.

“Sit,” Jimin says.

You and Jungkook get in the front seats, and Taehyung leans over to handcuff you to each other.

“Kinky,” Jungkook jokes.

“What the fuck is this?” you ask, as Taehyung also handcuffs you to the car door.

“I’m dropping Jungkook’s car by that abandoned tunnel on Route B,” Taehyung begins to explain. “Jimin is dropping your car off by that stretch of highway on Route A. We don’t want either of you driving off, and we want to do this in one trip, so we thought it would be best if we kept you in our car.”

Taehyung smirks and hands the keys to the handcuffs to Jimin.

“Oh, and just FYI: Jimin’s car is hooked up to your systems back at the warehouse, Sel. So, if you decide to go off-course, well… let’s just say there’ll be a little shock waiting for you.”

You sigh. “This is overkill.”

“It might be, but it gets the job done,” Jimin replies. “I’m gonna follow you, and then we’re gonna pick up Taehyung after.” He grins. “Enjoy the ride.”

Admittedly, you’re impressed with the job that Jimin has done with the car. The ride is pretty smooth. 

The only thing that makes it rough is Jungkook’s constant yapping.

“...Two bullet fragments in my side, and the head of a nail in my thigh,” Jungkook finishes recounting. “That last one was because we were in a construction area, and the guy I was after found a nail gun. But I think that’s it.”

You pout. 

“What about you?” Jungkook prods. 

“We all have injuries. It’s part of the work.”

You take the upcoming exit, and you see Jimin in your car following closely behind.

“Well, what are some of yours?” Jungkook asks.

You shake your head.

“I wanna know,” Jungkook insists.

“Why do you wanna know so badly?” you ask.

You hate talking about your injuries. You don’t like swapping war stories with others, even if they are like you. You prefer to keep that stuff to yourself rather than burden anyone else with it. If there’s anything you’ve learned living like this over the years, it’s that everybody has their own shit, and no one needs to pile on.

Jungkook shrugs. “I guess I didn’t anticipate that you would have gotten injured, given the type of work that you do. But then I saw you throw that punch.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s nothing.”

“It’s something.”

You frown. “Look, I don’t know what your whole deal is, asking all these questions me, but it’s starting to feel a bit invasive.”

Jungkook sits back in his seat and looks at the road ahead. “Sorry. I was just curious. I just…” His voice turns softer. “I just haven’t really met anyone like you before.”

You shake your head and glance out your side window. If someone had said something like this to you a couple of years ago, you might have fallen for it.

“Do you know what you’re going to do with your share of the take?” Jungkook asks, trying to move into safer territory.

You appreciate the gesture.

“I hadn’t thought about it,” you lie.

“Bullshit,” Jungkook laughs. “You took this job because of the take. I saw your eyes change when Sejin explained the whole thing. You looked…” He smiles. “Well, let’s say that you looked enticed.”

Jungkook’s really starting to crawl under your skin. Each question or observation feels like an interrogation. You’re starting to regret telling him more about your process and work. And you’re really starting to regret opening up to him about small talk, like the kind that he’s so desperately trying to make with you now. If you had just stayed silent, you wouldn’t be overanalyzing your situation, fearful that Jungkook is actually a federal agent, or some other kind of spy. The feeling’s been eating away at your gut like an ulcer, only growing the more that you feed it.

“Can we just drive in silence?” you ask.

“I’m finally gonna buy my parents a house,” Jungkook says. “I tell them I work in security. They don’t ask more questions than they need to. They just know that I make a lot of money.” 

He pushes his lips forward.

“They don’t really have a lot of it.”

Your heart starts to throb. This is hitting too close to home.

“So?” Jungkook asks. “What about you?”

You bunch your lips together. “Same.”

Jungkook smirks, happy to get even just that little bit out of you.

You pull up to the empty stretch of highway on Route A, just as the sun starts to set. Jimin stashes your car on the shoulder of the road, somewhat out of sight, by some brush. And then he jogs over to you, parked a few feet away. 

He uncuffs you from the car door, and then from each other.

“Get in the back,” Jimin instructs.

You do as he says, and then Jimin re-handcuffs you to each other, and you to the driver’s headrest.

You frown at the awkward hand placement that you’ll have to deal with for the next hour.

Jimin gets in the front seat and drives off, traveling back the way you came.

“Damn, I’m good,” Jimin sighs, as he accelerates. “This baby is smooth as silk.”

“We’re going a little fast, don’t you think?” you ask, starting to get nervous at the rate at which the mile markers are zooming past you.

“Let’s go faster,” Jimin cackles, speeding even more.

“Sel, you OK?” Jungkook whispers urgently.

You wince. Your stomach turns with each zigzag that Jimin does.

“Hey, I think you’re freaking her out,” Jungkook protests.

“Just getting some practice in for tomorrow,” Jimin laughs. “C’mon, Sel. Enjoy the fieldwork. You do so little of it.”

Jimin swerves dangerously on the, as of yet, still-empty highway.

“Please, Jimin, I’d really prefer it if you didn’t…” 

You feel so woozy. 

“Hmm?” Jimin asks playfully, starting to do tricks and stunts. “What was that?”

You’re starting to turn pale. 

Memories are coming back to you.

Out of nowhere, Jungkook swiftly reaches into Jimin’s jacket and grabs one of his Berettas. He points it at Jimin’s head. 

“Stop.”

Jimin holds a hand up. He settles the car on the road, done with the shenanigans.

But he’s smirking.

“You’re not driving like that tomorrow, are you?” Jungkook demands.

“No,” Jimin laughs, smiling at you in the rearview mirror.

Jungkook puts the gun back in Jimin’s pocket, and Jimin chuckles.

“Struck a nerve there, huh, Sel?” Jimin jokes, glancing at you in the rearview mirror again. “Didn’t know you two were so close. I really thought he was gonna shoot me for a second there.”

You sigh, trying to get fresh air.

Jungkook clasps your hand with his, interlacing your fingers.

“You OK?” he asks again.

You turn to him and nod. And then, you lean back in your seat and face the window, trying to keep from falling apart.

The rest of the evening is a bit of a blur.

You pick up Taehyung on Route B, just outside of a tunnel that’s been abandoned since the new highway ramps opened around it. He jumps into the passenger seat, and updates you that he’s successfully planted some charges onto the truck delivering the Gomez. And Jimin recounts what just happened, making Taehyung giggle at how green you and Jungkook both are.

You try your best to let it all go as Jimin uncuffs you.

But Jungkook keeps your hand in his until you feel ready.

Before you go to bed, you check your bots and see that everything is according to plan for the attack.

And then, Taehyung instructs you to help him get his guns ready for tomorrow.

“They have a point,” Jungkook tells you, as you both sit on the edge of your cots, loading clips into guns and organizing them according to Taehyung’s instructions.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“We are pretty green,” Jungkook replies. “And you’re kind of… not really one of us,” he adds. “The work you do. It’s so different. You’re like---”

You frown. “A nerd?” 

It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been called that, even here, in the warehouse. But that’s not why you’re frowning. You’re frowning because it’s so trite and boring. Of course you’re a nerd. All valuable people are.

“You just seem… good ,” Jungkook explains. “Like a good person.”

You roll your eyes. If only he knew.

You try to focus on the sound of metal clicking into place as you work.

After a moment, though, Jungkook says, “Seriously, though,” in awe. 

Your eyes meet, and though you know this is probably not the case, you swear that Jungkook is interested in more than just your experience as The Seller.

“How’d someone like you even get into all this?” Jungkook asks.

“How did you?” you snap back, feeling provoked.

“Just… sorta… fell into it, I guess,” Jungkook replies, uncomfortable that there isn’t really much more to his answer than that. “You?”

You have your doubts about how trustworthy anybody is, most of all Jungkook, but the ultimate reason you decide not to go into the details is that it would take too long to explain. Your cousin really should be the one to tell the story. He was the one who got you into this mess. First, teaching you how to stand up for yourself. How to fight. And only to fight when provoked. Next, teaching you about cars. How to drive them. How to tell when something’s wrong. How to fix them up. How to steal them and break them back down again. Then, teaching you about escape. Not just out of holds and locks, but about bottles, joints, tabs, and pills. And finally, teaching you the hardest lesson of all. How to move on when someone you love, someone who has taught you everything that you know, gets caught up in the cycle that all of these things can often create.

You shrug and place the clip back into the gun that you were checking. 

“Just sorta fell into it.”

You look up at Jungkook and hand it to him. 

“Now shut up and get some sleep.”

Your bots execute flawlessly.

As always.

As you watch your channels through your phone, you’re noticing more call traffic from the operations office and from the gallery itself to their Logistimatics representative, which you’ve identified as being located two cities away. You don’t have to listen in to the calls to know that they’re having trouble identifying the Gomez truck on the road. To them, their systems look down. To Logistimatics, all the systems look down.

The gallery would be better off calling you to find out that information. You know exactly where it is. It’s still on Route A, about to take the upcoming exit that you took the day before. You know because Jimin is driving your car right behind it, with Taehyung, Jungkook, and you in tow.

Your other hand is in your jacket pocket, hovering over your gun. You’re not usually this trigger happy, but you just want to make sure you’re safe. You sense Jungkook feels the same, when you see him scratching at his back.

“Looking great, guys,” Sejin says on your comms. 

He’s following along on his laptop from home. His screen is mirroring your monitors back at the warehouse, which are set up to show him exactly where the truck is, and where Jimin’s car is. 

Jimin starts to brake, increasing the distance between you and the truck.

“OK,” Sejin says, “be ready to incapacitate the car in a few minutes.”

“You know,” Jungkook replies, “I don’t think I ever learned what this part of the plan meant.”

Taehyung grins devilishly and holds up a small receiver.

“Well, you’re about to find out.”

When Taehyung left his room the night before to finally show you all what he’s been working on, you’re a bit underwhelmed at the sight of four small, rubbery, gray squares. But now, those four gray squares are affixed to the four wheels of the truck, having been planted by Taehyung on his way to where he stashed Jungkook’s car on Route B. And those four gray squares pack a punch of their own.

You learn how devastating of a punch as soon as Taehyung pushes the button.

A huge fireball engulfs the truck, stopping it in its tracks, ripping the trailer from the truck, and immediately killing everyone inside.

“Tae, what the fuck was that sound?” Sejin grumbles angrily. “I said a small explosion!” 

“That was a small explosion,” Taehyung replies innocently. 

He swivels around to get your and Jungkook’s opinions. Your heart stops when you see that his eyes have gone black.

“Right?” he demands, almost droning.

You’re too scared to respond.

Jimin parks the car a ways off. “Jungkook!” hebarks.

Jungkook jumps in his seat.

“You’re up,” Jimin goes on, as he pulls up on the hand brake. 

Jungkook’s jaw drops. “W-what?? I---” He looks out at the road. “All those people, they just--- The driver’s body is, like, just right there on the---”

“The safe,” Jimin continues, aiming a gun at Jungkook’s head. “You’re up.”

Jungkook scrambles in his pocket for the keycard that you’ve made, using the same parameters that you found in the security protocol. 

He shares a concerned look with you as he opens the car door.

Jungkook jumps out of the car and kicks his way into the back of the trailer. The fire is spreading quickly, and you hope it doesn’t catch on any of the dry brush that’s lying around.

He finds the safe containing the painting, and he’s able to use the keycard to scan into it. He grabs the small frame and runs back to the car.

“Get out,” Jimin says, pointing his gun at you.

You get out of the backseat, holding your phone in the air and keeping your other hand free. You try not to reach for your gun too early.

“How long do we have?” he asks you.

You look back at your phone. “Five minutes or so before the attack script is set to end,” you say, your voice shaky.

“Grab what you want,” Jimin tells Taehyung.

Taehyung smiles and takes the painting from Jungkook, as well as the keycard.

Jimin orders you and Jungkook to stand behind the car, as he sits in the driver’s seat and keeps his gun pointed at you.

Taehyung starts grabbing other works of art. Anything that he can get his hands on and sell, really. You watch as he piles everything into the backseat. Taehyung and Jimin are going to make a fortune.

“What the hell is going on?” Sejin screams through your comms, right into all of your earpieces. “I said just the Gomez! Jimin! What the absolute fuck are you doing??”

“Should’ve paid us more,” Taehyung jokes, making Jimin laugh.

Sejin bellows, “If you don’t haul your asses back to the warehouse right now, I’ll---”

The comms go out, and as you see Taehyung holding up the receiver again, you realize that it wouldn’t be inconceivable that Taehyung has planted explosives everywhere.

You really start to panic. 

“Should he have paid us more, or should we have done this years ago?” Jimin clarifies, as Taehyung loads the car up with more stolen pieces.

He laughs and then looks up at you and Jungkook, still frozen in place, with your arms raised.

“Now, what to do with you two,” he says, bringing his other hand to his gun as he aims it at you. “What a shame. I liked you, Sel. Hoped we might get a chance to fuck or something. Those tits.”

“Right?” Taehyung chimes in.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jungkook says, standing in front of you and distracting Jimin.

Jimin repositions his gun and trains it right between Jungkook’s eyes.

“And this one, always talking,” Jimin replies.

“Always talking,” Taehyung echoes, nodding and throwing more stolen pieces into the backseat.

“Maybe if you had kept quiet, we would’ve spared you,” Jimin replies. “We could always use more muscle.”

“Just let us go,” Jungkook pleads. “There’s no reason for you to kill us.”

“Of course there is,” Jimin says. “Who else are we gonna frame?”

“This isn’t part of the deal,” Jungkook insists.

“It’s like I told you,” Taehyung grins creepily. “Just do what we say, and you’ll never see us again.”

Jimin shoots at you, but Jungkook tackles you to the ground, and you pull your gun out of your jacket to shoot back.

You hear Jimin cry out, and in the frenzy, Jungkook throws his body over you and rolls you onto the ground, getting you as far as you can get from Jimin’s car.

Jimin sighs, and you hear Taehyung getting back in the car, scanning from the window as you and Jungkook disappear behind the truck trailer.

“You’re a fucking terrible shot,” you hear Taehyung quip. “They’re not even that far away. You should have let me done the gun stuff.”

You hear the gun changing hands.

“Look, do us a favor and just come back out here,” Jimin calls after you, through his open window. “It’ll just be so much easier.”

“Fuck, if Taehyung has the gun, we’re deifinitely done for,” Jungkook whispers to you.

“Hang on,” you say, typing on your phone.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at you, hopeful about whatever solution it is that you’re cobbling together.

“Brace,” you say. “And, uh, sorry in advance if this forces more shrapnel into your side.”

Jungkook shuts his eyes and does his best to shield you from any exposure.

You press the button.

This time, Jimin’s car explodes.

Though you and Jungkook move back in the blast, his leather jacket scuffing and ripping across the pavement, the trailer thankfully seems to protect you from debris.

After a moment, you tighten your grip on your gun and phone, and you sprint towards your car, Jungkook right behind you, grasping your hand and looking back to make sure no one’s shooting at you.

You pull your keys from your back pocket.

And then you peel off, the sight of fire and smoke getting smaller and smaller in the distance.

You and Jungkook have been driving in complete silence for hours when the first pang of hunger hits your stomach.

“Ready to stop?” you ask.

Jungkook’s seat is all the way back. He’s lying down on his side. 

“I was hungry two hours ago,” he mumbles.

“Sorry,” you say. “Just wanted to be extra careful.”

Jungkook readjusts his seat to its usual angle. He looks over to you. He watches the nonchalant expression with which you’re driving.

“Pull over.”

You do, and you realize that it’s almost night.

Jungkook looks over at you.

“I’ve never had a job go belly up before, not like that,” he tells you. “Have you?”

Now that you’re off auto-pilot, you notice how worried Jungkook looks. There’s a bit of blood on his cheek. He’s sweating at his brow, and his eyes are crazed with concern. 

“I have,” you admit.

“OK, so what do we do?” he asks hopefully.

“We start anew,” you say simply.

Jungkook furrows his brow. “W-what?”

“We start anew,” you say. “New identities. New town. New life.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Well, I can’t do that. I’ve gotta get back to my family. My life.”

“This is the risk that you take with this work,” you say dutifully. “You can’t go back, Jungkook. Sejin’s network is already looking for us. I know it.”

“How do you know?” Jungkook asks. “No one knows who we are. Jimin and Taehyung are dead. Sejin might even be dead.”

“Think about it,” you say. “Where did Sejin get all those supplies? How many phases were in this project? There’s a whole huge team of people behind this. There were contingency plans for contingency plans.” You put your hands on the steering wheel and put the car back in drive. “We need to get as far away from all of that as possible.”

Jungkook stares at you. “This is what you do?” 

You nod. “Every time.”

Tears well up in Jungkook’s eyes. He can’t even begin to think about how his life is about to change.

“Let’s start by getting food. I always feel better after eating,” you say, hoping that will help him. It’s a bit of a selfish motivation, cheering him up and taking care of him. Dealing with him will be easier if he’s at least fed and emotionally stable.

Jungkook sniffles, but he sits back in his seat and looks out at the road, and you pull back onto the road in search of a meal.

You sit through a silent, tasteless dinner at the next restaurant you pass, trying your best not to notice when Jungkook starts to cry silently, staring at his corner of the booth.

To distract yourself, you focus on finding a place to crash for the night. You book a couple of rooms at a motel nearby, trying not to think too hard about the spa month you were hoping to be booking at this point instead.

When you get to the motel, the night manager greets you unceremoniously.

“We have two rooms,” you tell him, “under Song.”

“I have one room for Song,” the motel manager says flatly. “And I don’t have any other rooms available. You must have made a mistake.”

Rage surges through your veins.

“That’s OK. We can share it,” Jungkook offers, before you can unleash even one insult.

You roll your eyes as the manager gets your keys ready, tamping down the impulse to show him your screenshot confirming your order for two rooms.

Being right isn’t what matters right now.

What matters is that you go to your room, get some sleep, and prepare for tomorrow.

When you get to your room, you barely pay attention to the details. But all Jungkook can see are the dusty bedspreads, the mismatching furniture, and the stains on the walls. And all he can think about is how different everything is at his place. This room looks like it hasn’t been cared for at all. But he carefully picked out each chair and table in his dining room. He spent weeks deciding on what speaker system to get for his living room. He already misses the feel of his sheets in his bed. 

“Sel?” Jungkook whimpers.

You join him at the foot of the bed.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

Jungkook shakes his head. “What’s wrong? We just saw seven people die, Sel.”

You nod. 

It concerns you that you are treating this so matter-of-factly. But then again, given the experiences you had, it doesn’t surprise you.

“No one was supposed to die,” Jungkook says hopelessly.

“Yeah, they were,” you say pointedly. “Two people were supposed to die. We were supposed to die.”

Jungkook meets your gaze.

“How did you…” 

He takes a breath. He certainly doesn’t want to start off this phase of his life by blaming anybody.

“How did the car blow up?” he asks.

You shrug. It isn’t really him blaming you. You did it. 

“They mentioned that if the car went off-course, it would blow up. I don’t know how they did it, but I figured that if the system was still in place, I could just manipulate the GPS of the car to read as if the car had gone off-course. That probably triggered the explosion from the warehouse.”

Jungkook clearly isn’t paying attention, and you unfairly doubt that he’d understand even if he were. But your answer seems to comfort him. At least someone knows what they’re doing.

“You saved us,” Jungkook says.

“You did, too,” you say. You let yourself soften for a minute. “I can’t believe you jumped in front Jimin’s gun like that.”

Jungkook grins. But then he raises his eyebrows at you. “Sel, I’ve gotta be honest with you. I’m freaking out.”

Rather than sugar coat it, you decide to take this chance to drive your point home.

“Then it’s absolutely imperative that we lay low for a while,” you say. “No jobs. No contact with loved ones. Not until we get our own operations up and running to see if anybody is tracking the two of us. OK?”

Jungkook nods. “OK.”

“Promise?”

“Swear.”

“Good.”

You move to get up, but Jungkook reaches back for you.

“It’s you and me, right?” he asks.

“Right,” you say. “You and me.”

He smiles at you, and you feel secure that Jungkook will at least be OK for the next week or so.

Before you’ll have to split up.

Before, from the looks of it, you’ll have to ditch him.

You push that thought out of your mind. You’ll deal with that when you get to it.

Now, you get up and walk over to the couch.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“You take the bed,” you say. “I’m fine on the couch.”

“No, I insist---”

“You insist what?” you as in a huff, holding one of the couch pillows in your hands. “You’re gonna do this whole, gendered, like, I’m the man so I’ll take the couch thing or---”

“No,” he says, standing. He peels off his shirt, like you’ve seen him do way too many times for the mere hours that you’ve known each other. But without his teasing smirk, he looks… Well, he looks different. 

And it feels different.

“I was going to say that I insist that we share,” he says quietly. “No sense in either of us not getting a good night’s sleep.”

You pout, all those thoughts about Jungkook’s body sweeping back to you.

You hate to admit it, but being that close to Jungkook’s body makes you nervous.

He holds out his hand to you.

“Uh… fine… sure… whatever.”

You walk back over to the bed, ignoring his hand, and, after kicking off your shoes, you climb in with him.

The bed is surprisingly roomy. You face the wall and grip onto the edge closest to you, making sure to keep in line with the mattress.

“You’re going to fall off.”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve seen how you sleep,” Jungkook laughs from beside you. “You’re going to fall off if you latch onto the edge like that. Scootch in. There’s plenty of room.”

You feel your body locking into place, a mix of social and situational anxiety flooding over your senses. 

Jungkook hasn’t figured it out yet.

Why you’re bad at small talk.

Why you’re hugging the ledge.

You don’t like to share.

“C’mon,” Jungkook giggles.

You stay rigid, arms glued to your sides as you roll onto your back and then onto your other side, facing Jungkook, who’s smiling softly and sticking his folded hands under his pillow.

It’s just now that you see it.

The cut on his face.

Where the blood was coming from before.

“Your cheek,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh.” Jungkook shrugs. “I’m OK.”

“It’s going to scar.” You almost want to run your hand over it. As if that would help. “What did it?”

“I think Jimin’s bullet grazed me.”

“No shit.”

“All fine, considering.”

Jungkook smiles at you.

“Not so different from our cots, right?” he asks.

You disagree. This is much closer than your cots were.

But you find yourself saying, “Right.”

You thought that this would last a couple of weeks, tops.

But it’s been months.

Months of you and Jungkook moving from spot to spot, carefully identifying towns that are not too big that you lose important vantage points on potential trails, but definitely not too small that you stick out as people who don’t belong. 

You only travel by car. You’ve ditched yours already, and you’re sad that you had to, given all the work you had put into it. But you can rebuild another. You grab rental after rental, making sure not to hang onto any car for longer than a couple of days.

You pay for everything online, using your phone. You explain how many fake identities you have. You even show a couple to Jungkook, especially some of the hideous ones that you’ve distorted to provide range in your appearance.

This is the first thing that makes Jungkook laugh. 

Seeing him like that, with a glimmer in his eye, makes you think to try to show Jungkook the upsides of the transition period. The creative parts. The interestingly fun parts.

You start accumulating things. You start with a laptop that you quickly build out with all the things you need to keep you safe. And once you’ve established that no one seems to be on The Seller’s trail, you start accumulating other things. New clothes. New shoes. Better hotel rooms. Nicer car rentals.

By the second or third month, you and Jungkook have cycled through ten or so origin stories.

You show him what kind of origin stories you need to have starting the first day that you’re officially on the run. When you’re at the store, getting toiletries and other essentials, a salesperson at a display stops you.

“Excuse me, sir, ma’am, are you two married?” the salesperson asks.

“Oh, yes,” you say, slipping into the character seamlessly. You wrap an arm around Jungkook’s waist, and he blushes, sucking in his lips and puffing out his cheeks a bit.

“Four years together, and he still gets so embarrassed when I touch him in public,” you giggle. “C’mon, babe. It’s just me.”

“Alright, babe,” Jungkook says, teasingly, but warningly.

The salesperson goes through a demo of some new cleaning supplies. You ooh! and ahh! at all the different brooms, sponges, rags, vacuums, attachments, and environmentally-friendly cleaning solutions. Jungkook starts to play along, reminding you that you’ve been looking for something heavy duty to lift those stains in the back room. 

You roll your eyes and slap him on the chest.

You swear that he pulls you in a little tighter after that.

Eventually, you start letting Jungkook decide what origin story he wants to use.

At the diner three towns ago, Jungkook introduces you as his mute sister. He tells the waitress that your parents sold you in exchange for drugs and left you in a box under the bridge, and that tonight is one of the first nights that you’re reconnecting after a lifetime apart. 

When you get back to your hotel room, you slap Jungkook on the arms and go on a tirade about how bad of an idea it was to do that, especially in case of an emergency. But Jungkook is still cackling at successfully forcing you to be completely silent for two-and-a-half hours, as he slowly ate his meal, watching you with bright, thrilled eyes and that classic smirk.

To exact your revenge, at the wine tasting bar in the town after that, you ambush Jungkook by introducing him as an up-and-coming sommelier that you were writing an article about, and Jungkook had to go along with it. He was doing well until the real sommelier began their demonstration, and Jungkook was booed out of the room.

You end the night sitting on the hotel roof, Jungkook kicking his legs off the ledge as he tells you what was going through his mind the entire night, the two of you sharing a bottle of red that you stole, your laughs bleeding into one another as the wine stains your teeth and gums.

And at the fancy restaurant in the last town, Jungkook fake-proposed, and you fake-accepted, all so that you could get a huge, free dessert.

You still hear his earnest plea.

“I don’t have a ring,” he says, conjuring real tears into his eyes, saying the words over-dramatically, “but I just know that we would be happy forever. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

“Yes!” you shrieked, throwing your hands over your mouth to keep from laughing too hysterically. “I will!”

You laid your head on his shoulder, and he held you close.

You brought the dessert home and split it while lying in your bed, watching an old movie.

Even after you were able to set up your banking systems under new names, each of your reserves of money now flowing and freely accessible, you still always rented a place where you’d share a bed. 

You’ve gotten used to sharing with him now. You almost can’t sleep without him there. And he tells you the same after you catch him awake, waiting up for you as you run your latest Sejin check. When you get back to the bedroom, feeling relieved at yet another week of being in the clear, Jungkook smiles up at you with tired eyes and pats the space on the right side of the bed.

Your side of the bed.

Tonight, you’re at a new friend’s house for dinner. You’d bumped into a woman at the grocery store and started chatting about something or another. You thought she was funny, and you felt pretty safe in this town. So when she invited you and Jungkook to have dinner with her and her husband that night, and you didn’t immediately have a panic attack, you thought it might be an indicator that you could settle here for a little while. Take it easier. Enjoy a little more of your day, instead of constantly looking over your shoulder. 

You’re certainly enjoying yourself as she, her husband, you, and Jungkook sit around their fire pit, taking in the changing night sky with some spiked coffees.

“Where are you off to next?” her husband asks, as she sidles up next to him.

To the two of them, you and Jungkook are a couple, with different names, who work as traveling wildlife photographers. They might have seen your work on postcards or in magazines, you say. You even brag that once, Jungkook got a spot on a famous show about wildlife. You’re not even sure if that show still exists.

“We haven’t decided,” you say with a sigh. “We’re kind of enjoying taking it easy at the moment. And I really like being able to shower in a tub and not in some grimy stall.”

Jungkook laughs knowingly, and you glance at him, shooting him a wink.

“You are just so adorable!” the woman gushes. “OK, that’s it. I want to learn more.”

“Yeah, enough work talk. Tell us a story about the two of you,” her husband says.

“There are lots of stories,” Jungkook says, smiling at you fondly. 

“How did you meet?” she prods, her eyes in the shape of hearts. She’s been staring at Jungkook like this all night, and you can’t help but feel proud somehow.

Jungkook laughs. “Uh, well.” He looks at you. “I think it’s technically your turn to tell the story, babe.”

“Oh, I always like hearing it from the guy’s point of view,” she says, grinning. “Now, c’mon!”

Her husband chuckles and rolls his eyes. “My wife’s a real romantic.” His wife giggles and tickles his chin with her fingers. “And,” he adds, “to be honest, so am I.”

You look at Jungkook expectantly. “You heard them. They’re romantics.”

Jungkook thinks for a moment, and you giggle in anticipation of what he’s going to say.

“OK, well, uh, we met at work,” Jungkook says, suddenly, simply. 

“...Oh,” she replies.

You start to laugh at her disappointment, thinking of how necessarily weakly Jungkook has summed things up.

Her husband laughs along with you, confused about what’s funny.

“Is there more to the story?” he asks.

You laugh again, and Jungkook reaches for your hand adoringly.

He beams sleepily, and then, in a gentle voice, one so full of warmth and light, one that you’ve only heard a handful of times, like by your cot, or in the rental car on a long stretch of road, or from the other side of your shared bed, he says fondly, “We worked on a job together, and I just really liked her.”

He turns to you. “I fell for her on the first day.”

The woman and her husband exchange sweet glances, touched by Jungkook’s earnest look.

You feel a little edgy.

“What did you like about her?” the woman asks.

Jungkook shrugs. “I liked the way she looked. I liked how sure of herself she was.” He bites his lip, remembering. “And I liked how smart she was. She just always knew what to do.”

He crinkles his eyes at you. “I’ve never met anyone like her.”

Your chest tightens in a way that you haven’t really felt before. 

It stays locked like that through the rest of your drinks, and on the way back to the house that you’ve rented for the next couple of weeks that you’d decided to stay in this town. 

Now, you’re starting to rethink that decision.

“What if we left tonight?” you ask, breathless, your chest still so constricted.

“Huh?” Jungkook asks. “I thought you wanted to stay. I thought you were having fun with, ah, what’s-her-name---”

“I did want to stay, but I don’t anymore,” you say quickly, starting to pace.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asks.

“I don’t know. Nothing.”

Jungkook looks at you skeptically.

You sigh and sit on the couch, folding your arms and throwing your leg over your other knee, kicking in frustration.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asks again, quieter, and sinking onto the couch, right next to you.

“It just felt too close,” you say. Your breathing slows. Your body settles. You turn to Jungkook and add, “That story. That was too close.”

Jungkook softens. He runs his thumb over your cheek.

You let yourself do the same, running your thumb over his scar. 

You realize that he hasn’t once asked about picking a jar of his stupid face cream.

“Sel,” Jungkook whispers, “I hate to break this to you but… given the circumstances, I think we’ve gotten pretty close.”

You stare at him. 

How did this pissant crawl his way inside of you?

Before you can think, you’re kissing. You had almost forgotten what the sensation felt like, it had been so long. When Jungkook kisses you, you not only remember, but you realize that all the other kisses that you’ve had weren’t as special as you thought they might be. The way he kisses you makes you question even your own kisses. Are you this present? This fulfilling? This all-encompassing?

He breaks your kiss too soon.

“Do you, uh,” Jungkook asks nervously, checking your eyes, but starting to run his hands over your body, “d-do you want to---”

“Yes,” you say emphatically. But this is dangerous, you think, making one friend and blurring the lines with another. 

He dives into you, and he sounds like he’s been hungry for you, the way he’s reveling in your smell and taste. He helps you out of your dress, kissing down your neck and sliding down the couch in the same way he’s sliding the fabric down your body. He looks up at you and sighs as he takes you in, your eyes hiding behind your heavy lids, fluttering with each of Jungkook’s touches.

“Did you ever want this?”

You look down to see what Jungkook means.

He nibbles at your inner thigh, making you spread your legs wider. He pulls your underwear down and runs his tongue up and down your thighs before spending more and more time at your mound, his saliva mixing with your juices as he circles your clit. 

You cry out at the feeling. Not just at what Jungkook’s doing to you, but at the fact that your first time in a while is so incredible. It’s rare to move from a period of inactivity to the best sex of your life. You wonder what you might’ve done in a past life to deserve it.

“You like it?” Jungkook asks hopefully. “How is it---” He chuckles and adds, “babe?”

You moan in response, and he grunts happily, before tenderly focusing in on your clit with his tongue, flattening it against you, and then making waves, then surrounding it in swirls before starting all over again. You start to move your hips against him, and he begins to bob his head at your pace. Soon, you’re left mewling and dripping, grabbing onto his hair, crying out his name. 

He fucks you softly at first. He watches you as if he’s in study of you. He takes in every bit of information. Which way you turn when you feel a wave of pleasure. How you squirm and wriggle against him when he puts his weight on you. When you tend to pull him close. When you arch back and away to feel him elsewhere. 

“Tell me,” he begs you. “Tell me what you feel.”

“I feel you filling me up,” you tell him. “Fuck. I feel so warm. So good.” 

You look at him. You run your hand through his hair, and he smiles at you. He looks so happy.

You beat your body against him, and pretty sighs float out of him, his neck going limp as he strokes.

He falls to you, pinning you down on the couch, his torso laying across yours, pressing your breasts into his chest, his arms on your shoulders and as he moves himself in and out of you, your arms clasping to his back and holding him as close to you as you can get him, your kisses increasingly dry with the way your mouths hang open for each other and draw breath, your collarbones slamming into each other and threatening to bruise.

Jungkook reaches back for your legs and hooks his elbows into the backs of your knees. He pushes you up, and your eyes alight as he repositions you both, his strokes getting even deeper and stronger.

You prop your chest up by sliding the top of your head back and into the mattress, and Jungkook plants rough kisses at your neck, biting the flesh just above your breast. When you clench, when it’s so good, he half-moans and half-laughs, delirious and amazed at what you’re doing to him in return.

He straightens and holds your legs up in the air with one hand bracing your gathered ankles.

He continues to pump into you, but he uses his free hand to rub your still throbbing clit.

You squeal, biting your lip and throwing your hands down onto the couch, clawing at the fabric with your nails, shaking your head back and forth and moving your hips up to meet him.

You come and sob, the release feeling like the first cool breeze at the end of a long, humid, summer thunderstorm storm, your skin drenched and your senses renewed.

And when you come, you let out a chuckle, making Jungkook slow his pace a little and feel that familiar tingle across his skin whenever he sees your smile, or hears your laugh.

He so loves making you feel good.

If he can make you feel good, then he must be doing something right, and kind, and real.

He falls back to you kissing you deeply, your tongues dancing around each other and stirring the deeper parts of you back into action.

“I only want this, yeah?” he tells you, kissing you, grunting to ask you if you’ve heard, grunting until you moan back in agreement. “I only want you. I want you and this life. I want nothing else.”

You smile and mumble things back.

“You taste so good,” you sigh. “Feel so good.”

You push him off of you, making him look concerned.

“Take me in our bed,” you say, playing up the fantasy. You sit up and take his cock in your hands. You stroke him and smile up at him. “Fuck me harder. Make me scream.”

He goes to speak, but you wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, and you slide him inside of you until your cupid’s bow is pressed against his hip.

When you look back up at him, his chin is pointed at the ceiling, and he’s gripping your shoulder so tightly that you’re afraid he’ll leave a handprint.

“Fuck, Sel.”

You moan at the sound of your name, and he moans at the feel of your moan against his shaft. His ass jiggles as you start to cup his cock in your throat, and he pumps in response. Even this feels incredible, the delectable sensation of his thick length sliding past your mouth, the sound of his grunts and groans like sweet, cotton candy clouds hanging in the air. 

He pulls out of you when he’s had enough, and he makes good on your request, picking you up and kissing you as he leads you back to your room.

Your bed.

You collapse onto the mattress together, and he turns you around, getting you on all fours and kissing your back.

He enters you slowly, but soon, you’re pushing back against him so fast and hard that you worry you might break something. The bedframe. Your body. Something.

You feel his sweat dripping onto your skin, and you hiss at the feeling, imagining it dripping down. You look back, and he growls at the sight of your eyes shining at him as he takes you. He grabs onto your ass even tighter, and you grunt as he quickens his pace. You slide your body against the sheets and toss your hair to one side as Jungkook moans and slaps your ass. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whines, reaching for your hand. “Fuck. So pretty.”

You give it to him, bending it behind you and letting it rest in the small of your back. He takes it in his and locks your fingers together, squeezing your palm so tightly in his.

You feel more sweat dripping onto you. It’s turning you on so much. You rest your cheek against a pillow and lean your front down, as you bring your hand back to collect his sweat and rub it into your pussy.

You let his sweat mix with your juices, still flowing, and you start to mutter gibberish to yourself, the feeling of everything happening so indescribably wonderful.

“Damn,” he sighs, watching you, getting off on the idea that you want all of him, even the parts that escape him.

He brings his free hand to yours too, taking over so that you can ride this wave of pleasure, rubbing your clit exactly the way you were just a second ago, his mind so perceptive and quickly able to pick up what you like from how you show him.

“J-Jungkook,” you whine warningly. “I need it. I need you to--- Fuck, more, harder.”

He grunts again, his breaths shaking as he works, his hips twisting and pistoning so gorgeously into your tight tunnel, his cock plunging in deeply, with abandon.

“There,” you beg. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

He keeps doing exactly whatever it is that he’s doing that’s making your toes lock. Your knees rattle. Your thighs jiggle. Your back bend. Your shoulders cave. Your arms go limp. Your head fall to the mattress. Your voice tumble out of you, all wails and sobs of pleasure.

You pant, groaning and sighing, looking back at Jungkook again, his smirk plastered across his face, his brows set and furrowed with determination.

You pump against him, milking him, making your body as tight as you can for him.

“Shit,” he whispers. “You came so good for me. How did it feel, baby?”

“Perfect,” you sigh. “It was perfect.”

You start to swirl your hips, and Jungkook’s breath hitches in his chest.

“Now you, baby,” you moan, your walls spasming and making Jungkook shiver. “Come for me.”

Jungkook whines, burrowing into you.

“You want it?”

“I need it. I need all of you.”

He slaps your ass again, making you buck forward. He places his palms on each of your ass cheeks, spreading them and watching his cock slam into you. He spits onto his shaft, and you moan at the sound and feel. He closes his eyes and clutches you tightly, barrelling into you, and making you yelp with pleasure.

When he comes, he brings you with him. You didn’t know your body had anything left. Jungkook’s showing you just how much is buried there under the surface. And how willing he is to go there with you to find it.

You fall apart. You fall next to each other. You fall into each other’s soft gazes, as you settle into your sides of the bed.

Jungkook pulls you into him and holds you close as you sleep. He whispers to you like a lullaby, telling you how good you made him feel. How good you always make him feel. How he knows your barbs and insults and annoyed exterior are just decorations on a thin shell. How soft you really are inside.

And then you kiss.

Based on his kiss alone, you wouldn’t have expected the snarky, braggadocious, shallow Jungkook that you met. You’re realizing now that you hadn’t met the real Jungkook. Perhaps that’s what you think is making him so curious about you. He tells you that you’re good, all the time. You wonder if he’s forgotten that he started out good, too. You wonder if he’s rediscovering the untainted parts of himself by looking at you.

As good as the sex is, it’s that quiet, intimate part of the night that makes it harder to disappear.

You aren’t completely sure what you should write in your note.

It feels so stupid to write a note in the first place. First of all, you’ve long abandoned leaving paper trails. And, second, you’ve never extended the courtesy of letting people know when you were leaving, mostly because extending that courtesy to them would put them at risk.

You almost don’t leave at all. At some point, weeks ago, you wondered if it was safer this way. Four eyes looking all around you instead of just two looking ahead or behind. You decided to try it, and you were pleasantly surprised.

But given what Jungkook has told you tonight. That he could do this forever with you.

It’s a risk.

So, you played the part. You gave him what he seemed to want. Because the reality will come up so short.

A note is the least you could do.

But what to write?

You think about what you’ve been told about your word. That it’s all you ever really have. It’s why you get so annoyed when people don’t take you at it. 

You decide that whatever you write doesn’t have to answer any questions. It just has to be true.

You leave the note on your pillow. You write it in your neatest, prettiest cursive. As if that will soften the blow.

You pack quickly and quietly. It looks like you were never there. You leave the rental car for him, sensing that it would be unfair to leave him stranded as well as alone. So you order a car to take you to the airport instead.

As you head for the front door, you know that this is going to be extremely hard to get over. You’re going to miss Jungkook and all your stories together. You’re going to miss this life dearly. Desperately.

And as soon as you walk outside, the early morning fresh air hits you, and you doubt yourself one last time when you realize that you hadn’t had one nightmare the entire time you’ve been on the run with him. 

But. 

Like all the other times.

The times that were arguably harder than this.

You press on.

The Cul-de-Sac Cons Masterpost

#the cul-de-sac cons #my fics #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #oooh we're setting shit up #oooooh jungkook in black leather #ooooooooooooooooooh jungkook with guns #also jimin and tae #and sejin #the brains #lol #WHY AM I OBSESSED WITH THIS IDEA #i just really like it #theculdesaccons

[venividinah]

4, 6, 8, 17, 49 !!

BTS ASKS

4.Top 10 Songs?

1. Dope 

2. Butterfly 

3. Save Me 

4. Run 

5. Sea 

6. Fire 

7. Always 

8. Lie 

9. Mic Drop 

10. Spring Day 

6. Favorite lyrics?

God, my mind went black at this! *sweats nervously*

But the first one that popped into my head was “I reject rejection”. Also “Welcome, first time with BTS?” which I know it’s not an actual lyric but I think it’s of great impact, it was such a pivotal moment in their careers and I seem to have a bit of an obsession with Dope era hah.

“Where there is hope, there are trials”

“My Kafka on the seaside don’t go into those woods”

“We are all living and dying at the same time”

To be honest, when it’s K-Pop you don’t really memorize lyrics… you memorize the general message of the song. At least, that’s my case. the ones I listed stuck with me, but I’m sure that if were to take each song all over again to look at, I’d probably find more. Probably most would have to do with the rap-line, as well. :’’)

8. Which Cypher part do you like best?

T H R E E !!!!!!!!!!!!!

17. Whose fashion style do you like the most?

Oooooh shit. Well, I really enjoy ripped jeans, large blouses, flannels, leather jackets, hoodies and Timbs,(even though I don’t own a pair, they are so damn expensive! I have a pair that resemblances Timbs lol) combat boots. So, I resonate with Jungkook’s and Jimin’s style the most. But I like all of their individual tastes. I don’t always understand what Tae wears lol and I definitely don’t understand his obsession for Gucci but he makes it glow effortlessly. Honestly, where is his Gucci contract??

49. What kind of concept would you like to see in the future?

Honestly? After Love Yourself: Her… they left me gobsmacked. But I definitely like the direction they’ve been taking so far. Not giving a fuck with their mind-blowing meme dancing routines and Jin having a lot more screen time and V singing in his guttural/velvety voice. They are a force in music in general now and I honestly see them doing anything at this point. 

But I’ll tell you what I don’t want anymore: complicated storylines hah.

Ok, I promised myself that I wouldn’t make a big deal out of this but I wrote a damn essay! Thank you for sending me these

#umm now i know that i can always count on you for sending me asks hah #sorry for making this so long #asks #bts