#heist au is plaguing me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

latetaektalk · 3 years

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(he)art thief | jjk [i]

“jungkook is charming, kind, smart, and funny. jungkook is the guy to fall in love with. he is perfect in every sense, except that he is also a member of a notorious heist group and only getting close to you to steal from you. but what does he do when he starts to fall for you? who does he choose? his brothers or you?”

genre: heist! AU, thief! jungkook, art curator daughter! oc, ocean’s! AU, fluff, angst, sexual themes/implied smut (in later chapters)

pairing: jungkook x female reader

estimated word count: 14.801

warnings: cursing/swearing, banter, they say dick like once

a/n: it’s here!! hope you guys enjoy it! if you find any typos, no you didnt,, also i rewrote an entire scene today, so yeah im clearly very organised! also, this is loosely based off the ocean’s film! y/m/n refers to your mother’s name btw

Jungkook avoids playgrounds.

Does so because at the tender age of just seven, he fell off a swing. He ended up in the hospital (his first but not last visit); seven stitches, his mother told him, but he could swear it was a million.

Needless to say, Jungkook has been avoiding playgrounds like the plague ever since.

But here he is, in the middle of one, dog leash in his hand, and heart pounding in his chest so violently it might just explode.

A mob of boys runs past him, all of them no older than six—which means that, for the most part at least, they’re harmless—but still, Jungkook flinches. It’s embarrassing, even more so because Gureum turns and stares at him. If one of them should flinch, it should be Gureum, with him being a dog and Jungkook a full grown adult, but God, today is just not his day. He’s stressed! Out of it! Nervous! A wreck-

“Did you just flinch?”

Jungkook feels his heart drop. Fuck, he thought he walked out of sight!

“No, I didn’t, Tae,” he hisses, pressing the earpiece further into his ear.

“You flinched! We can still see you- ah, okay, not anymore.��But we saw that-”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I definitely did not flinch-”

“Denying it is pointless. We all saw it. Back me up here, Jimin.”

“You definitely flinched.”

Jungkook stops dead in his tracks, is about to walk back to the car and tell them that they must be hallucinating because he definitely did not flinch when-

“Can you see her already, Kook?” Namjoon asks and for a moment, Jungkook forgot why he is here, you.

He looks around himself, and it doesn’t take him long to find you, sitting on a bench, under a big tree, soft shadows dancing on your skin.

“Yeah, I-I see her,” Jungkook says under his breath.

“Okay, good. I’m gonna need you to focus up then,” Namjoon continues, and Jungkook nods like Namjoon could see him.

“Yeah, if you screw this up, it’s your fault if we end up in jail-”

“Tae!” Namjoon warns, and judging from the ‘ow’ that follows, someone punched him. Jungkook’s guess is Jimin.

“What? I’m just saying-”

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you come,” Namjoon mumbles and runs a hand down his face. “Hey, Kook, don’t listen to Tae, yeah? He’s just messing with you.”

“Yeah… I know,” Jungkook mutters, and he means it. He really does know that Taehyung is messing with him, but there’s a part of him that takes it to heart, that is worried sick about how he’s going to fuck this up and be the reason for why they all end up in jail.

“Don’t worry, Kook,” Jimin cuts in, taking the phone from Namjoon. “We’ve got your back. All you have to do is repeat after me, say what I say. You’ve got this. Remember what I taught you?”

“Always smile and laugh and never talk about yourself. Keep the conversation about the other person because people love talking about themselves,” Jungkook repeats, and looks at you again, heart heavy in his chest.

He shouldn’t feel like this, wishes he wouldn’t. But he can’t help it. This isn’t how he imagined he’d meet you. Jungkook thought he’d meet you at some fancy event, sipping expensive champagne, or at some luxury clothing store maxing out your parents’ credit card—after all, your mother is a world famous art curator. But instead you spend your time at playgrounds, babysitting.

There’s actually no reason for Jungkook to be this nervous. Jimin did practise with him this exact scenario, but he can’t help but think that with a flute in his hands and some alcohol buzzing through his system, he’d feel more comfortable. But here he is, in the middle of a sea of children.

“Kook, do you copy?”

“What? Sorry, I wasn’t…” Jungkook pauses. He shouldn’t admit that he wasn’t listening.

“Get your head in the game, please,” Namjoon tells him over the earpiece.

“Sorry, you’re right. I’m here,” Jungkook says and starts to walk again even though he still feels fucking lost as a goddamn adult at a playground. Gureum follows him when he tugs on the dog leash.

“Okay, good. Just- just try your best,” Namjoon says, voice a bit muffled. “You’ve got this.”

Jungkook could swear that there’s a waiver to his words.

“Don’t worry. We’re here,” Taehyung tells him before Jungkook can think about it too much, distracting him from the quiver he heard.

He stops behind a tree, close enough for Gureum to spot you, but not close enough for you to spot them. His knees crack when he kneels down to stroke Gureum’s ear.

“Hey, Gureum? I’m gonna unleash you in a second and then I’m gonna need you to run towards,” Jungkook points as discreetly as possible to you, “her, yeah? Just like we practised? Remember? Remember how you ran towards Seok and Yoongi? Do it exactly like that again, okay? If you do, I’ll get you your favourite treat.”

Gureum doesn’t run away instantly when Jungkook unclips him because he’s trained, but when he points at you and whistles, he’s gone.

You react surprisingly calm to a dog barreling towards you, barely flinching. You lean down and greet Gureum.

“Approaching target now,” Jungkook mumbles quietly and can only faintly register how Namjoon tells Taehyung to be quiet from now on, all of his attention on the mission now.

With the leash in his hand, Jungkook jogs towards you, heaving extra hard to sell the act of a dog-owner-who-has-been-chasing-his-dog-for-the-last-ten-minutes to you.

You look up to him when he stops in front of you, eyeing him. Jungkook stands there, bend over, his hands on his knees, breathing like he’s struggling to catch his breath.

“Uh…. hi,” you start, brows pinched together.

Jungkook puts on his most charming smile, ignoring his thumping heart to the best of his abilities.

“Hi.”

“Oh, we’re starting- okay, showtime: I’m sorry, are you okay? My dog- he just ran and I couldn’t stop him. I’m so sorry,” Jimin says in his ear.

“I-I’m so sorry.” There’s a quiver to Jungkook’s voice, and it isn’t on purpose. “Are you okay? He just ran and I-”

“It’s fine,” you tell him with a small smile, still petting Gureum who has clearly taken a liking to you. During practise with Seokjin and Yoongi, Gureum always ran back to Jungkook, but now he’s staying at your feet, relishing in your pets. “Is that your dog?”

“Yes, yes, it is. I’m so sorry. I just unleashed him for a second, but then he ran away and I couldn’t catch up with him. Are you okay?”

“Yes, and I’m so sorry. I just unleashed him for a moment, thinking it was okay, but-”

“Can you prove it?” you interrupt and Jungkook pauses. “I mean that it’s your dog. It’s just that he isn’t really reacting to you, you know?”

Jimin’s response comes a bit late. “Oh, yes, I can. His name’s Gureum and he is- what’s the breed of your dog again? I don’t remember. If you look at his collar, you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”

“Oh, yeah, I can,” Jungkook smiles, wiping the non existent sweat from his temple. “His name’s Gureum and he’s a white Maltese dog. If you look at his collar, you’ll see that I’m not lying.”

You actually look at the collar and part of Jungkook is offended that you don’t just believe him. Does he look like a liar to you? “Actually, I have pictures too-”

“No, no, it’s fine. I believe you,” you say before gesturing for Gureum to go back to Jungkook. He does, but somewhat reluctantly and Jungkook doesn’t know how to interpret this.

“Ask her if she’s okay again.”

“Are you really okay?” Jungkook says and offers you a smile the way Jimin taught him to. “I really am sorry about-”

“It’s fine,” you tell him and wave him off. “Nothing happened. Don’t worry about it. Just leash your dog.”

And then, you turn away from him. Jungkook stands there awkwardly for another moment before kneeling down to Gureum, absentmindedly petting him, mind filled with questions because what now? How does he communicate to the others that you turned away from him? That the conversation has ended and he has no idea how to start it again?

“What’s going on Kook? Is she smiling-”

“Ah, Gureum, no,” Jungkook cuts in. “Don’t turn away- I can’t leash you if you do that. Don’t turn away.”

“Oh, shit, she turned away, huh?”

“What now, Jimin?”

“Shush, Joon. Let me think, yeah?”

Jungkook fiddles with the leash like he has a problem clipping it, hoping that maybe you’re going to offer him your help. You don’t. And why would you? He’s an adult after all.

Before Jimin can come up with anything though, the solution to the problem presents itself. It comes in the form of a girl running and tripping right next to Jungkook and him catching her just in time before she can faceplant in the dirt and scrape her knees open.

“Oh, hey, careful here!” Jungkook brings the girl back up on her two feet. She stares at him with big eyes, and he recognises her from the pictures. It’s Siyeon, the seven year old girl you babysit regularly, the reason why you’re spending your afternoon at a playground today. ”You okay?”

“Kook, what’s happening right now?” Namjoon asks.

Siyeon looks at you, and you’re already kneeling beside her, fixing her hair.

“Siyeon, I told you not to run. See, you almost fell now!” You say it the same way a mother would, less strict though. “If he hadn’t caught you, you would have hurt yourself, wouldn’t you have? Now, what do you say?”

“T-thank you,” Siyeon mumbles, and Jungkook isn’t sure if she’s staring at her hands because she’s embarrassed or just about to cry.

“Who’s that? Who are you talking to? Who’s he talking to?”

“Was that a kid?”

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks Siyeon, ignoring Namjoon and Taehyung to the best of his abilities.

“Y-yes, thank you.” She won’t look at him.

Jungkook smiles. “Well, I’m happy that you didn’t get hurt there.”

“Kook, answer please. Do you need help?”

“Should we interfere?”

Jungkook’s about to snap. Does it seriously sound like he needs help? He’s talking to a seven year old, for fuck’s sake! Sure, he didn’t practise this scenario, but God, he was capable of improvising!

“Thank you. She’s really clumsy,” you say to Jungkook.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I’m like that too. After all, I let,” he looks down at Gureum and finishes his sentence by gesturing to him and then you. You laugh.

And that’s when Siyeon seems to notice Gureum for the first time, eyes growing big at his sight like she has never seen a dog before. A chance.

“His name’s Gureum. You wanna-”

“Do you think we should go over there? See if he’s okay?”

And with that, Jungkook snaps. Yoongi is going to give him an earful for destroying his oh so precious equipment, but he can’t do this any longer with Jimin, Namjoon and Taehyung in his ear. So in one smooth movement, Jungkook digs out the earpiece and crushes it between his fingers, hiding it in his hand.

“Sorry, a fly, I think,” Jungkook says, swatting at his ear, and before you can think about it, he moves on. “Do you wanna pet Gureum, S- Is it okay if I call you Siyeon?”

Siyeon stares at Jungkook like he can’t believe he just asked her that. It’s probably the first time an adult has asked her for permission to call her by her name, and she seems to appreciate it immensely because she beams at him and gives him a huge nod.

“Okay, Siyeon, do you maybe wanna pet Gureum? He doesn’t bite, I promise.” Jungkook can feel your eyes on him. He’s doing it, charming you!

Siyeon turns to you.

“Can I-?”

You hum. “If Gureum is okay with it-”

Siyeon kneels down. “Hello, Mr Gureum. Sir, can I please pet you?”

Jungkook melts, and so do you.

Receiving no response from Gureum, Siyeon looks back up to you. Jungkook quickly takes his paw and waves. “Hello, Mrs Siyeon, if you promise not to hurt me, you can pet me. I like it especially if humans pet me at the back of my head. Just, please, be nice to me.”

In all of the years he has had Gureum, Jungkook has never tried to imagine what his voice would sound like, but he knows for a fact that he doesn’t sound like a chain smoker. It’s a questionable choice, but he doesn’t regret it. Because not only does it make Siyeon laugh, it also elicits a chuckle from you.

You look at him with a grin. “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet, have I?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Jungkook says, and you two rise to your feet when Siyeon starts to pet Gureum and he doesn’t bite her.

“Well,” you stretch out your hand, “I’m Y/N.”

Jungkook swallows the ‘I know’ that wants to slip him and takes your hand. He has to stop himself from bursting with pride, only allowing his smile to grow into a blinding grin.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, and he means it. It’s really nice to meet you. “I’m Jungkook.”

A Week Ago

“So why do you guys think we’re here?” Taehyung looks around, drumming on the desk. “Any guesses?”

Jungkook swivels in his chair, looking past Taehyung to where Namjoon and Seokjin are standing, watching them try to figure out how to get the projector to work.

“Probably a job, right?” Hoseok says, snacking on his protein bar. “Why else would we be here?”

“You think?” Yoongi raises a brow.

“I mean money’s getting tight, isn’t it?” Taehyung hums and Jungkook frowns.

“I’ve barely touched the money from the Jang’s job,” he says, and Taehyung looks away. “Tae, have you blown through your eleven million already? It’s barely been two years since the job though!”

Jimin snorts. “It’s Tae, Kook. What did you expect?”

“What did you spend it on?” Hoseok asks, shoving the last piece of his protein bar into his mouth, balling up the plastic wrapper in his hand.

Taehyung turns away, a flush creeping up his neck that makes it rather obvious that he most definitely blew all of his money on stupid shit like luxury clothes and cars.

“Jeez, Tae,” Jimin teases, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “Get it together, buddy.”

Taehyung gasps. “I’m not the only one with no money here! Yoongi spent all of it too!”

Everybody turns to him, but unlike Taehyung, Yoongi doesn’t even bother to react, offering everybody just a lazy shrug.

“So? What else am I gonna do with money? Save it until I die?” Yoongi combs through his hair. “Plus, I didn’t spend it on stupid shit like Tae did. I spent it on equipment. You’re all benefiting from it.”

And then, Taehyung deflates, mouth sealing shut because he’s got no defense anymore. Lucky for him though, Namjoon and Seokjin finally figured out how to get the projector running, their presentation casted on the wall.

“Ready, guys?” Namjoon asks, walking up to the front and raising a brow. When everyone nods and gives him a hum, Namjoon grins and looks to Seokjin, who’s dimming the lights right now.

“Jin,” he calls out, “what time is it?”

And in the most dramatic fashion possible, Seokjin rolls up his sleeve and looks at his watch, feigning surprise when he sees the time.

“It’s time-for-another-job o’clock,” he gasps.

Namjoon gapes at him. “Oh, is it?”

“Yes, yes, it is. Look.” Seokjin holds up his watch, a grin growing on his lips. Namjoon leans forward and squints even though it’s pointless because Seokjin is standing at the other end of the room.

“I see now! It really is,” he gasps and Jungkook’s not the only one cringing, the others pulling a face too.

“Isn’t that-”

“Please stop,” Yoongi interrupts and gives both a look. “Just start the fucking meeting. This is painful.”

Seokjin sighs deeply. “None of you appreciate our humour.”

Namjoon mirrors him, clutching his heart. “Fine, let’s start.”

And right after Seokjin skips to the first slide; a picture of the National Museum of Korea appears.

“Anybody know what’s being displayed there in three months?” Namjoon asks, gesturing behind him, in serious moed now. He looks around like a teacher waiting for his class to get the answer, and Taehyung’s the perfect student because he practically shoots up in his seat, excitement gleaming in his eyes.

“Tae?” Namjoon points at him.

“‘The God, The Demigod, The Nymph, and The People’, right?” he says, the corners of his lips slowly turning up into a smile. “Are we-”

Namjoon smiles. “Yes, we are.”

And that seems to be the greatest thing Taehyung’s ever heard because his lips splits into the biggest grin possible and he crashes back into his chair with such force he almost topples over.

Jungkook raises a brow. “Uh, what exactly are we stealing now?”

“This painting,” Seokjin says and clicks to the next slide. It’s a picture of an incredibly detailed and stunning painting, depicting a crowd of people kneeling in front of the Demigod with the God watching above him and a single nymph emerging from the water, approaching the crowd.

Taehyung shuffles in his seat, catching Yoongi’s attention. A teasing smile grows on his lips. “You good, Tae?”

“Yoongi,” he responds and stares him down. “You don’t get it. That painting,” he points it, “is the hottest art piece on the market right now. People are fucking dying to go see it.”

“How hot are we talking about?” Yoongi quips back, clearly thinking Taehyung’s exaggerating. For once, he’s not.

“Like eighty million dollars hot.”

Taehyung says it so casually it takes Jungkook a moment to comprehend, his mouth falling open. He never knew a painting could be this expensive. The information takes a second to sink in with everyone.

“W-wait, what? Eighty million?” Hoseok repeats, eyes gigantic.

“What the actual fuck?” Jimin laughs.

“Holy shit,” Jungkook curses too because even though they’ve stolen millions before eighty million is still a stupidly large amount of money to them. “Maybe we should have become artists.”

Yoongi turns to Seokjin and Namjoon.

“How do we get it?”

“Well,” Namjoon starts. “Right now, we don’t get it because it’s hanging out in the Met, but-”

“-in three months it’s coming to Seoul,” Seokjin continues, the transition seamless. “It’s coming right here, scheduled to be displayed,” he skips to the slide of the museum again, “here.”

“What's the security like?” Yoongi asks next, brows furrowed together like he’s already calculating the chances of them successfully pulling off this heist.

“Absolutely insane,” Taehuyng answers. “I’ve already looked into it. Aside from guards, they’ve got multiple independently wired security cameras, pressure sensors and laser nets that are randomly generated, making it fucking impossible for us to plan out way through it. You trigger anything and the doors and windows automatically lock themselves. Not to mention, they’ve got some of the best firewalls out there. Firewalls even you, Yoongi, won’t be able to hack into.”

“So how are we supposed to pull this off then?” Yoongi asks, and Namjoon and Seokjin smile at his question.

“We deactivate their security system.”

Yoongi stares at Namjoon like he’s joking. “Right, because Taehyung just said it was so easy to do-”

“There’s a master code.”

“There’s a- what?”

Namjoon’s smile widens, hands shoving into his pockets. “A master code.”

“Great, isn’t it?” Seokjin hums. “You have the master code and you can overwrite and deactivate the entire security system. One click and shit’s all gone, and we can walk in and out without a worry.”

“A master code?” Yoongi raises a brow. “There’s a master code? Why would they have a master code? That’s so dumb-”

“How do you guys even know?” Taehyung asks, face scrunched up. “I’ve never found anything about a master code when I looked into the museum. You sure that’s reliable information?”

“It’s very much real, Tae. The master code is a six-digit code that’s changed every week,” Namjoon explains. “Now, there are only a handful of people who have it. One of them is,” Seokjin skips to the next slide, “Y/L/N Y/M/N, the museum’s art curator.”

“Where is it kept? The master code, I mean,” Hoseok asks, still fumbling with the plastic wrapper of his protein bar.

“Laptop.” Namjoon puts up his hand before anyone can say anything. “No, Yoongi, you can’t just hack it. The laptop isn’t connected to any network, and actually kept in a safe, in her office, at home.”

“So to get it,” Seokjin continues, “we have to physically grab it from the laptop. Which means-”

“- that one of us has to get in,” Namjoon finishes the sentence. “Because—” the next slide reveals the kind of house Jungkook has only ever seen on TV, the kind of house reserved for the filthy rich, for people that Jungkook and the others steal from; neatly cut hedges, a big golden gate, white pristine columns and a perfect red mailbox, “—breaking into the house is rather difficult. They’ve got several security cameras around the property, a gate and a housekeeper who is always in and out of the house.”

“And to get in, we need,” Seokjin pauses, skipping to the next slide and a blurry picture of you appears, “her. Y/L/N Y/N, daughter of Y/M/N.”

“Because her mother never invites staff back to her home, getting the master code through her is impossible. But if we get close to Y/N, well, then it’s a cake walk.” Namjoon smiles.

“What about the safe the laptop is kept on?” Jungkook asks and Namjoon waves him off.

“Don’t worry about that, we’ve got the code for it.”

Jungkook’s about to ask where they got it from when Jimin cuts in. “And what about the guards at the museum? We deactivate the security system, but someone’s gonna notice that, right?”

“Surprisingly, the museum barely has any guards at all,” Seokjin laughs, shaking his head. “And the handful of guards that they do have are inept, to put it nicely. They’re the least of our problems.”

“So let me get this right,” Yoongi sits up, closing his eyes as he tries recalling the steps of the plan, “we have one of us,” he looks at Jimin, “you, infiltrate their family, get the master code and then I’ll deactivate their security system during the heist and Hoseok just… goes and gets the painting?”

Namjoon raises his hand, clicking his tongue. “Not really- I mean, yes, but the other problem I haven’t mentioned yet is that Y/M/N’s always at the museum-”

“- except when she’s meeting new artists and inspecting their work for the next big exhibition,” Seokjin says and turns to Taehyung. “You like to paint, right?”

Taehyung laughs and rolls his eyes, the question pointless because it’s been long established that Taehyung likes to paint. After all, he’s their art guy.

“So we have Jimin get close to Y/N and Taehyung pose as an artist?” Yoongi corrects and Namjoon nods.

“We’re pretty much just pulling a Night Owl and Circus Mirror then, right?” Jimin asks, and Jungkook stares at him like he’s grown a second head, none of the terms making any sense to him. But Seokjin understands him perfectly.

“Plus Twin Swap,” he adds.

“Twin Swap too? Really?”

“Yeah, why not?” Seokjin grins.

“Any other questions?” Namjoon asks, already turning off the projector, assuming there aren’t any because most heists are usually more or less the same.

Namjoon and Seokjin come up with a foolproof plan, Jimin plays the inside man, Yoongi hacks into the security system, Taehyung poses as an artist or buyer or whatever pretentious artsy person they need for the job, and then Hoseok alongside Seokjin and Namjoon, maybe even Taehyung and in the rare cases even Jimin, break in and get whatever they’re stealing. And then, there’s Jungkook… stuck being the wheelman of the group, responsible for their gateaway.

Truth be told, Jungkook hates it.

Since everyone else had a clearly established role in the group when they brought on Jungkook, there wasn’t anything left for him to do than be the wheelman. So he’s been doing that for the past three years, but if offered, he would definitely switch his role.

Jungkook’s not trying to be ungrateful here, he’s aware of how lucky he is—after all he became a millionaire by just being a glorified uber driver—but he just… wants to help out more, play a more central role during the heists. Because, well, being a wheelman is boring, to put it nicely.

And look, Jungkook knows he lacks experience in comparison to the others, knows he still has a lot to learn—it’s why he has been okay with being the wheelman—but now, after almost three years of being stuck behind the wheel, Jungkook wants to branch out, grow into an even better thief, show the others how much he has improved, prove himself to them.

“Uh, I have a question” Jungkook coughs out, and Namjoon stops and looks at him.

They all turn to him, and all of a sudden, his heartbeat spikes. Jungkook shifts in his chair and clears his throat, knowing that he has to do this now, that this is his chance and if he doesn’t take it, he won’t ever.

“I-I was wondering if I could maybe do something else,” he says, voice shaky. “During the heists, I mean.”

“Oh,” Namjoon says, clearly surprised by his question, turning to Seokjin. “What do you think?”

“I see where Kook is coming from,” Seokjin begins, scratching his head. “He’s been an excellent wheelman, but that’s not the role you chose, is it?”

Namjoon hums. “What could you do?”

The question isn’t directed at Jungkook but Seokjin. That’s fine, he thinks to himself. He understands. The others know better.

“How about he comes with Hoseok and us when-”

“How about he gets the master code?”

Jungkook turns to Jimin, staring at him like he has grown a second head.

“What?” Jungkook pauses long enough for Jimin to tell him he was joking. He doesn’t. “W-what would you do?”

“I could still infiltrate. It probably wouldn’t be a bad idea if we had someone on Y/M/N’s team too, right? In case she abruptly comes back or raises suspicion during the heist,” Jimin explains, and Jungkook looks to Namjoon and Seokjin. They stare back at him, no expression on their faces. It’s obvious though. They have their doubts, and so does Hoseok judging from the slight frown.

Jungkook can understand. He’s worried too. Transitioning from being a wheelman to helping out Hoseok during the heists is the most logical conclusion. This way he’d be working on a team, have others around to save his ass if he was to mess up. But being an infiltrator? That’s going solo, one of the riskiest roles to take on.

And even though infiltrating is something Jungkook has wanted to try to do forever now, there’s a part of him that’s hesitant to jump on the opportunity. After all, if he fails to get the master code, the plan falls apart. He has to get his part right, or they are fucked. It's a huge responsibility, a responsibility Jungkook isn’t completely sure he can bear.

“Who would do transportation then?” Seokjin asks.

Yoongi raises his hand. “I could do it. I can hack from anywhere.”

And then it’s quiet.

“So, Kook,” Namjoon clears his throat, “you up for the challenge?”

Jungkook doesn’t miss the look Namjoon shares with Seokjin. He knows exactly how to interpret it. And while he understands completely, he wishes that they’d have more faith in him. He knows that he doesn’t have much faith in himself right now either, but maybe he would if they believed in him at least. The fact that they don’t hurts him and his pride, bruises his ego, pushes him in the end to give the answer that Jungkook maybe shouldn’t have given.

“Y/N’s her name, right?”

When Jungkook walks into the safe house with the others, Seokjin, Hoseok and Yoongi are already there to greet them. Seokjin’s eyes are searching their faces for signs of defeat, signs of ‘Jungkook fucked it up and now Jimin has to step in’.

“And?”

Namjoon, Jimin and Taehyung turn to Jungkook.

He grins. “Went well.”

“Yeah?” Seokjin breathes out when he nods. “Great!”

“Don’t worry, Jin,” Taehyung tells him, patting him on the shoulder as they move into the living room, the hallway too small for seven people.

Jungkook throws himself on the couch because god, he’s tired. Physically he didn’t do much, but mentally he feels like he just took the SATs.

“Oh, just remembered.” Jungkook digs around in his pocket, pulling out what was left of the earpiece. He hands it to Yoongi. “I’m sorry. I had to.”

“What the fuck, Kook?” Yoongi stares at the earpiece, well, what was left of it.

“They wouldn’t stop talking!” Jungkook defends himself and points at Jimin, Namjoon and Taehyung. “I had to, for the sake of the mission! If I didn’t, it would have failed.”

“You owe me,” Yoongi grumbles, and Seokjin pats him on the shoulder.

“I’m not gonna lie,” Taehyung begins, “I was thoroughly impressed by Kook today. He talked to her for like two hours straight, and he did it all without the help from a certain someone,” he eyes Jimin, who freezes and stops petting Gureum, ”because they choked up.”

“Shut up, Tae,” Jimin mumbles. “It’s not my fault that Y/N was nothing like I expected her to be.”

“What did you expect?” Hoseok asks and takes a sip from his protein shake.

Jimin wrinkles his nose. “Well, usually children of these rich art people are all more or less the same: snobby, arrogant, annoying, superficial, shallow. That kind of stuff. But she was just… normal. It threw me off! I had an entire plan, but she didn’t bite-”

“I’m sure you did,” Taehyung teases and laughs when Jimin glowers at him.

“I did! I had a plan-”

“That’s what I’d say too if my position was in danger-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Seok!” Jimin huffs. “You have no idea what it’s like to-”

“Enough, enough,” Seokjin cuts in, clapping his hands together. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is the fact that Jungkook did a great job today. Let’s celebrate that, yeah? How about pizza? I’ll pay.”

And while Yoongi furiously makes his case for pineapple pizza to the others (again), Namjoon leans over to Jungkook.

“Good job.”

Jungkook smiles, his cheeks hurting a bit from how big his smile is.

“Thank you.”

The next time Jungkook sees you, you ask him what he does, and Jungkook repeats back to you what Jimin tells him to say. He’s a freelancer, he says. It isn’t a lie. But he conveniently leaves out the fact that he’s freelancing in… theft. The praise rings a little louder in Jungkook’s ears this time.

Four days later, he sees you again. This time there’s no Jimin in his ear, no one waiting in a car in the distance. You tell him about your dream of becoming a teacher, and how much you adore Siyeon. He gets it. It’s hard not to like her. Gureum looks sad when they have to go. The others pay for Jungkook’s dinner.

Two days after that, the sun’s shining bright, hanging high in the sky, when he approaches you. You look up with a smile. Jungkook left Gureum at home.

“Hey-”

“Can I have your number?”

Jungkook knows for a fact that he shouldn’t ask you like this, that this isn’t the smoothest and most charming way he can do it, but he thinks he will lose all of his courage if he doesn’t ask you immediately. And he can’t go back to the others without your number.

You blink at him before grinning. “Sure.”

Hoseok puts Jungkook in a headlock when he shows them your number. “Ah, I knew you could do it!”

And even though Jungkook can barely breathe in this position, he grins. How could he not? Getting your number just proved himself to the others. No one could deny it, he was useful! Capable!

“God, where’s Jimin when you need him?” Hoseok groans, and Jungkook wishes the older would be here too. Because almost an hour has passed and they still haven’t settled on a text to send to you.

“Why can’t we just call him and ask him what to text?” Yoongi throws his head into his neck. It’s a rhetorical questionbecause they all know why. Jimin’s out with Seokjin right now, putting in the steps to get him on your mother’s team. Do not call or text unless there’s an emergency, Seokjin told them.

So Jungkook’s stuck with consulting Yoongi and Hoseok instead. It takes ages, but by the end they settle on a boring ten word text that Jungkook can no longer recall now. He throws his phone away the moment he has hit send and goes for a shower.

When he comes back, you have responded. He probably shouldn’t if he didn’t want to sit there for another hour again, but Jungkook goes and looks for Hoseok and Yoongi. But they’re nowhere to be found. They have dipped. And when Jungkook walks into the basement where Taehyung is, he gets an old paint brush hurled at him.

So, Jungkook sits down in the living room and texts you all on his own.

Turns out, texting you is actually… easy. It’s most definitely not credited to Jungkook’s social skills, but more so to the fact that you’re simply easy to talk to.

Somehow, Jungkook ends up texting with you for the entire remaining week, from morning to night, his phone never leaving his hands.

He starts to enjoy texting you.

And it shows.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung gasps when they’re all sitting around in the living room and having take out together. Jungkook jerks his head up. “Look at that smile on your face! Who are you texting? Y/N?”

Jungkook stares back at Taehyung, tongue tied.

“Oh my god, he’s really smiling,” Jimin gasps, and Yoongi looks too, smirking when he sees the flustered look on Jungkook’s face.

“What? I-I’m not smiling!” Jungkook tries as a defense and puts away his phone, grabbing his box of noodles.

“Sure you’re not,” Taehyung cackles before winking at him. “You liar.”

Hoseok snorts and Namjoon chuckles to himself, exchanging a look with Seokjin.

“Just eat your fucking food,” Jungkook hisses and turns away. He has to admit though, his cheeks do hurt a little bit.

The first phone call happens two week after he’s first met you. Jungkook initiated it. He didn’t want to. Not because he didn’t want to talk to you, but because he was scared of rushing things and scaring you. But the others insisted that it was time and assured him that it was fine.

If she hasn’t ghosted you yet, then you’ve got nothing to worry about, Hoseok told him before going on a tangent on how Jungkook’s a horrendous texter and anyone willing to put up with it must, at least, like him (or pity him, according to Taehyung).

“Hey?” Jungkook says, nibbling on his bottom lip, when you pick up.

Jimin and Seokjin are here too, carefully watching him and listening in. Seokjin’s sitting on Jungkook’s old office chair that squeaks with every move, a pack of crackers in his hands, and Jimin’s lying in his bed, Gureum resting on his stomach, relishing in the pets Jimin’s giving him.

Jungkook wants to make it clear, he does not want them here. He protested this, telling them that he was capable enough to have a phone call with you on his own without supervision, but they wouldn’t listen. It’s frustrating, but Jungkook gets it. If he fucks this up, says the wrong thing and offends you, the plan is fucked and they have to start all over again.

“Hey,” you say. “How’s your day been?”

Jungkook gives Jimin and Seokjin a quick look before scooting away from Jimin, the mattress dipping when he shifts his weight.

“Good,” he starts, running a hand through his hair. “It’s been… boring but good.” He’s silent until Jimin kicks him. Jungkook scrambles for words. “H-how about you? How’s your day been?”

You’re quiet for a second and Jungkook thinks he has just fucked it up, but then he hears you chuckle.

“I’m good too,” you say. You’re teasing him, your tone making it very obvious.

“Yeah? That’s great to hear,” Jungkook laughs and internally curses Jimin and Seokjin because if they weren’t here, he wouldn’t be nervous. Yes, they’re the only reason for why he’s nervous. There’s no other reason for why his heart is beating as fast as it is. It’s all their fault!

“Jungkook,” you say and he perks up. “Are you nervous?”

He buries his face in his hands. You asking him this would already be bad enough if you were alone, but with Jimin and Seokjin here to witness it, Jungkook wants for the earth to swallow him up. Even though he isn’t looking at the two, desperately avoiding their gazes, he can see the smiles on their lips, how they grow into smirks. He wants to punch both.

“No.”

You laugh. “Stop lying.”

“Stop laughing at me.”

“I’m not,” you say with a scoff, offended by the assumption that you’d laugh at him.

“Sure, you’re not,” Jungkook says quietly, feeling the tension in his shoulder blades.

“Well,” you say and judging from your tone, you’ve given up on trying to deny the truth. “Are you seriously expecting me not to laugh at you when you’re nervous just because we’re on the phone together?”

“W-who said I was nervous because we’re on the phone?”

“Hah, so you admit it! You’re nervous!” you cheer and you sound too happy for his liking. Jungkook presses his lips together, cheeks burning.

Maybe they just got bored of listening to you two talk or maybe they just want to offer him some privacy and get off his back, but Seokjin and Jimin slowly get up. ‘Keep going!’ Jimin mouths, slowly picking up Gureum, and Seokjin shoves the last few crackers into his mouth, chewing as silently as he can. Jungkook breathes out when they shut the door.

“Told you you’re nervous,” you continue, and Jungkook snaps back.

“God, shut up,” he groans with a playful eyeroll, and lets himself fall on his bed, splayed out like a starfish, his phone pressed to his ear. “Why don’t you tell me about what you did today?”

“You’re just changing the topic because I’m right,” you snort. “But fine, I’ll be so nice and let you change the topic.”

And then you continue telling Jungkook all about your day; how you woke up late for class today and your stomach growled in the middle of class because you didn’t have breakfast. You complain to him about how much you hate your professor and how you don’t understand how he’s supposed to teach you how to become a teacher when he sucks at teaching himself.

Jungkook listens to it all, intently, especially when you start talking about the boy Siyeon met on the playground today. And as he listens to you, he wonders if he should have gone to college too, taken up a more honest job, if this was maybe the wrong path. He stops himself from thinking about it too deeply.

He isn’t sure how, but you end up talking about cinnamon rolls, and when he tells you he’s never had one before, you let out one dramatic gasp.

“You’re kidding. How?”

“I don’t know. It’s not that big of a deal-”

“Not that big of a deal?” you repeat. “Jungkook, listen, you’re missing out- have been missing out! I can’t believe this!”

Jungkook laughs. He likes how dramatic you’re being. He finds it cute how you get upset over such little things. “Well, how about we change that then? Take me out and get cinnamon rolls with me?”

You click our tongue. “I’m not gonna do that,” you tell him. “We’re gonna make them ourselves instead. The store bought shit doesn’t hold up.”

Jungkook blinks three times before it clicks with him and he shoots up from his bed, a huge grin spreading on his lips.

“I don’t have any baking equipment though,” he says and he hopes you will take the bait, invite him to your place. You do.

“Why am I not surprised to hear that?” you laugh. “Just come by my place.” Jungkook shoots up from his bed, feeling this spark of energy growing in him. He could dance. “You free this weekend?”

“Yeah!” he says, probably too quickly, and bites his hand to stop himself from sounding too happy. “I’m free. No plans. None. This weekend sounds perfect.”

Maybe his excitement leaks through his words, maybe it doesn’t. Either way, you laugh, and Jungkook thinks he’s never heard a more lovely sound. “Great, I’m looking forward to baking with you then!”

Jungkook catches himself in the mirror, surprised to see how big his smile is. It’s practically spilling over.

“So am I.”

Jungkook doesn’t know if he likes or hates this, standing here at the top of the stairs, waiting for the others to gather downstairs so he could walk down and reveal his outfit to the others. Because how funny would it be if we did that? Jimin said. All Jungkook wants to do now is curse at him.

He smooths down his white button and adjusts his black jeans. Pulling up his sleeve, he glances at his silver watch that matches with his necklace.

“You can come down now, Kook!” Taehyung calls from downstairs, and Jungkook cringes at his voice. Slowly and carefully, he takes the first step.

Almost instantly whistles ring through the air. Jungkook wants to run up the stairs again. He resists.

“You look good!” Namjoon tells him, and Taehyung cuts him off by taking Jungkook by his arms, his mouth wide open as he looks at him.

“Look at you, buddy! Actually wearing shit that fits and doesn’t just hang off your body.” Taehyung’s repeatedly slaps Jungkook’s shoulders, soon transitioning into shaking him. Like he wants to make sure that Jungkook’s actually real. “I never thought that I’d see you in anything but your sweats and oversized shirt!”

Jungkook brushes Taehyung off of him, enough of the abuse. And even though he rolls his eyes, he’s smiling, grinning almost because okay, maybe he does like this. Maybe he does like the attention, the praise, the approval, the validation.

“You look like you’re about to attend prom or something,” Jimin grins.

“I know! I feel like a parent sending my son off to prom.” Hoseok places his hand on his chest, faking a sniffle. “They grow up so fast.”

Jimin puts a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder and gives him a wisteful look. “I raised you so well.”

Taehyung snorts. “You didn’t raise shit-”

“Yeah, if anything, I raised him well.” Seokjin points at himself.

“You?” Jimin scoffs. “Pretty sure you didn’t do shit-”

Before this can get out of hand, Namjoon steps in, trying to deescalate the situation, emphasis on trying. “Let’s say we all raised him well-”

“What? What are you talking about?” Jimin scoffs. “If it wasn’t for me recruiting his ass, Kook wouldn’t be with us.”

“But who recruited your ass?” Seokjin argues, gesturing around himself. “Me! And who told you to look for someone to recruit? Exactly, me again-”

“Mom, dad,” Jungkook says, placing a hand on both of their shoulders. “Hate to be the one, but if you guys keep arguing, I’m going to be late for prom.”

“Prom!” Seokjin exclaims with a level of drama only he could conjure up, continuing like he wasn’t just about to fight Jimin. “God, you’re all grown up now. I can’t believe we’re sending you off to prom-”

“Yeah, it’s unbelievable,” Yoongi deadpans. “Except that we’re not actually sending him to prom, but to Y/N to get close to her and get the master code.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes at Yoongi, mumbling something about him being no fun, but he just ignores him.

“And instead of losing his virginity and planting his dick,” Yoongi digs around in his pocket and pulls out a bug, “he’s going to plant this.”

Jungkook stares at the bug like he has never seen one before. “Wait, what? I’m planting a bug too? Why-?”

“Just in case,” Namjoon explains. “Maybe we’ll hear something that will be interesting.”

“Yeah, why not?” Hoseok says and Jungkook just nods because he always nods and agrees.

“Okay, listen up, dude.” Yoongi snaps his finger. “Do you remember the blueprint of the house? We want you to stick it in the office. You remember where it is right? On the second floor, next to one of the twenty bathrooms. It’s best if you stick the bug to the underside of the desk, and remember you have to activate it-”

“I know how to use a bug. I’ve done it before. You don’t have to explain.”

“You said that with my earpiece too. And what happened to-”

“I said I was sorry.”

Yoongi grumbles and hands him the bug, but not without adding that this was his last chance.

“Okay, so can I go now?” Jungkook asks, glancing at his watch. He really should get going. He doesn’t want to keep you waiting. It’d be rude.

Namjoon holds up his hand, and leans over the couch, and Jungkook’s eyes grow big when he sees what it is.

“Don’t make that face,” Seokjin laughs. “You’re wearing a button down already. You might as well.”

Namjoon shoves the bouquet of flowers into Jungkook’s hands.

“Ready?” Jimin asks and Jungkook looks at him, at the flowers in his right hand and the bug in his left. He takes a deep breath and gives them his best smile.

“Ready.”

Jungkook waits for you to open the door, and when you do, his smile drops.

“Oh.”

It isn’t you.

It’s Yerim, your best friend.

“Hi,” Jungkook starts and puts on a smile. “Sorry, I- I’m here for Y/N?”

“Jeon Jungkook.” Yerim crosses her arms in front of her chest. “That’s you, right?”

He shifts from one foot to the other. “Yeah? And you-”

“I don’t like you.”

Jungkook stares at Yerim and she stares back at him, her gaze hard and penetrating. Looking into her eyes, he feels like she can see through him, detect the bug in his left pocket, read his mind and figure out that he’s only getting close to you to steal from you.

“I don’t like you and I don’t trust you. Not even the slightest,” she says nonchalantly. “I don’t know you, but I don’t like you-”

“Yerim!” you hiss sharply, appearing behind her. “Stop this!”

“I’m not doing anything.”

You call bullshit, rolling your eyes and pointing behind you. “Just go inside, please.”

Yerim doesn’t budge when you tug on her arm. Only when you repeat her name does she move, but not without fixing Jungkook with a long look. I’m watching you.

“Sorry,” you sigh, gesturing for him to come inside. You give him a pair of red house slippers and he changes out of his black chelsea boots for them.

“Did you have difficulties finding the house? I know the hedge blocks it a bit,” you say while walking inside.

“No, no, the directions you gave helped,” he lies. He didn’t need them. He has done his research before, surveilled your house with the others already.

Jungkook scans the living room. It looks nothing like he thought it would. He expected for it to be overly modern, sleek, and minimalistic. Instead, it’s properly furnished, plants sitting on the window sills, books spilling from the shelves, colourful artworks and family pictures decorating the walls, fuzzy rugs on the floor. It looks like a proper home.

And right in the middle of the couch is Yerim. Even though she’s on her phone, Jungkook knows that she’s watching him, keeping an eye on him-

“Are those flowers?” He snaps his head around. “You brought flowers?”

The question hangs in the air and takes him a moment to understand. When Jungkook does, he feels the need to hide them and tell you to forget it, but then you grin at him and his heart stops.

“I- yeah, but I just-” he stops himself. Jungkook isn’t sure what this feeling in his chest is.

“Well,” you say with a heartwarming smile. “They are for me, right? Are you gonna give them to me then?”

“Right, uh, yeah.” He offers them to you, awkwardly. “Uh, h-here.”

You inspect the flowers before burying your nose into them and taking a big whiff.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” you say with a laugh. “You know how on TV people always smell flowers? I always wondered if flowers really smelt that great.”

Jungkook grins. “And?”

You crinkle your nose and give the flowers one more sniff, shrugging. “Eh.”

Jungkook laughs and you join him.

“Right, yes, hi, hello, I’m also still here.” Yerim waves her arms around.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” you smile and share a look with Jungkook. “I haven’t actually introduced- that’s Yerim. My best friend.”

Jungkook nods like he doesn’t know already, and stretches out his hand. “Hi, I’m Jungkook. Nice to meet you.”

Yerim just stares at his hand. Awkwardly, Jungkook pulls it back.

“Yerim!” you hiss the same way you had just before. You turn to him. “Sorry, she’s actually really nice and-”

“Yeah, but not to you because I don’t like you,” Yerim interrupts.

“Yerim!” you repeat for the third time, gaping at her. “Just- just give us a minute, yeah? Find a vase for the flowers, please?”

Clearly, Yerim isn’t happy about being sent away, but she does seem to understand why you do it. Jungkook has a feeling though that she usually doesn’t do what she’s being told to.

“Sorry, again,” you repeat when she’s gone, and Jungkook waves you off. “No, seriously. She-” You wrinkle your forehead and sigh, walking around and sitting down on the couch. He follows you. “She’s just protective of me.”

“I’ve noticed.”

You scrunch up your face, frustration tucked into every line of your face. “She just thinks I’m too trusting. It’s why she’s here by the way. She didn’t want me to be alone with you the first time I invited you over.”

“Oh, your parents-”

“Working.”

He nods and thinks for a second before humming. “Well, I think it’s nice that she cares about you.”

“It’s not so nice when she jumps every guy I talk to.” But you clearly don’t want to keep talking about it because you wave your hand around and change the topic. “Why are you so dressed up?”

Jungkook looks down at himself, the question surprising him. “Ah, well, I, uh-”

“It looks like you’re going to prom or something,” you laugh and tug on his shirt. You’re mocking him, but he doesn’t feel offended or the need to defend himself. In fact, Jungkook laughs with you.

“Jimin said that too,” he lets slip and Jungkook’s quick to explain. “A friend of mine.”

He says it a little awkwardly, the words not rolling off his tongue quite right. It isn’t a lie, but it also doesn’t feel like the whole truth either.

If you notice the awkwardness, you don’t say anything. You just hum and nod, pausing a second to think before dropping your hands to your knees with finalty.

“Ready to bake some cinnamon rolls?”

Jungkook can’t remember the last time he has baked something. To say that he’s practically useless in the kitchen is therefore no exaggeration. He confesses this to you, tells you that he isn’t sure how much he can help you, if at all. You laugh at his confession.

“I’ll coach you through it,” you tell him with a grin, and pat him on the shoulder. “I’ll be your teacher.”

He’s measuring out the sugar and you’re warming up the milk on the stove next to him when Yerim walks in, flowers now in a pretty and rather expensive looking glass vase.

Jungkook forgot she was here too.

“You’re seriously-” She cuts herself short, groans instead.

“What?” You don’t take your eyes off the stove, continuously stirring the milk.

“I thought you were joking when you said you’re gonna bake,” Yerim mumbles, walking in without sparing Jungkook much of a glance, putting the flowers in the middle of the kitchen island.

“Seulgi just called.”

“And?”

Yerim sighs and gives Jungkook a quick glance.

“She forgot her keys.”

You jerk your head up. “Oh. What are you still doing-”

“She said she was gonna grab some groceries first. I’ve got time. But I still have to go,” Yerim mumbles.

You turn off the stove. “So go.”

Yerim’s face soures at your suggestion. “Yeah, but-” She glances at Jungkook instead. He asks himself if she’s trying to be subtle at all.

You deflate at her words, face twisting with frustration. At least that’s what Jungkook thinks you’re feeling. It might also be annoyance. Maybe even both. He still can’t read you confidently.

“Yerim-”

“Uh,” Jungkook starts, and you both look at him. He offers a smile. “I-I’m nice, you know. You can trust me. I’m a…. nice guy.”

Great. Nothing sounds more trustworthy than a guy claiming to be a nice guy. Maybe Jungkook should add that he also enjoys watching girls when they sleep. It’s definitely going to convince Yerim and you.

Jungkook’s about to explain himself, but then you put your hand on his arm. “It’s fine, Kook. Just keep measuring the sugar. We’ll be back.”

Before Yerim can protest, you pull her into the hallway. Jungkook tries listening to what you’re saying, but he hears nothing.

He pulls out his phone, partly to offer some updates to the others and partly to ask for help because god, he really just fucked that up, huh? The responses follow immediately, like they are all just sitting in front of their phones and waiting for Jungkook to text them.

[yoongi - 12:57] : have u planted the bugs yet

[jungkook - 12:57] : no

[jimin - 12:57] : wdym there are other ppl too??

[yoongi - 12:57] : plant it then

[seokjin - 12:57] : Do you need help?

[yoongi - 12:57] : remmeber u have to activte it to

[jungkook - 12:58] : her best friend’s here to

[hoseok - 12:58] : lmao i thought this was a date or smth

[seokjin - 12:58] : Kook, do you need help, or no?

[namjoon - 12:58] : Do you need us to come get you out of there?

“Sorry,” you say, and Jungkook immediately shoves his phone back into his pocket, like it’s a secret that he has one. You frown, but you don’t push it. “She went home.”

“How’d you convince her?” he laughs and leans against the counter. You take the butter out of the fridge.

“I’ve got my ways. I’m really convincing, you know?” you smile at him, grabbing a small butter knife and a new pan, putting it on the stove. As you wait for it to heat, you cut up the butter into small cubes.

For a moment, it’s silent.

“I-”

You look up at his interruption. Jungkook sighs. “I just wanna clarify- it sounded weird when I said that I’m a nice guy, which I mean, I am, but I don’t mean it in a-”

“It’s fine.” You put down the knife and pull out a wooden spoon. “I wouldn’t have known what to say either.” You stir the butter in the pan, watching it melt and sizzle. “Don’t worry about it. I know you’re nice and trustworthy.”

“Do you?” Jungkook laughs.

You turn to him, smiling. “Yeah, I do.”

“How are you so sure?”

Jungkook isn’t sure why he’s asking this. He shouldn’t. He should be glad that you think he’s nice and trustworthy. But he couldn’t help himself but ask.

You turn off the stove before answering. The smell of melted butter wafts through the air. “Should I not trust you?”

“W-what, no, I’m just-” Jungkook deflates. “Maybe Yerim has a point when she says you’re too trusting.”

You blink at him, think about his words before ultimately shrugging. “Maybe. Or maybe she doesn’t.” You tilt your head to the side. “But I can trust you, right?”

Jungkook opens his mouth, but a knock on the door interrupts him, and he has never felt more relieved. He isn’t sure how convincing he could have lied just there.

“Oh,” you say when you see who it is.

Jungkook recognises her from the pictures Namjoon showed him during one of the meetings. It’s your housekeeper, Kang Sunyoung.

He noticed it before already, but she always has a smile on her lips, the kind of smile only people with their heart at the right place are able to produce, the kind of smile that warms everybody’s heart. Jungkook already knows she’s nice. He’s right.

“Sunyoung!” you beam. “You’re already back? I thought you were coming back tomorrow.”

“Surprise! I’m back early!”

You pull her into a hug.

“How’ve you been? How’d you survive the two weeks without me?” Sunyoung smiles and you wave her off.

“Don’t worry, we managed just fine.”

“Yeah? Soon you’re not gonna need me then, are you?”

“Don’t say that. We’re always gonna need you.” You roll your eyes, eliciting a chuckle from Sunyoung. You laugh with her.

“Oh,” Sunyoung says upon seeing Jungkook. He puts on a smile.

“Hi, I’m Jungkook.” He stretches out his hand, and Sunyoung takes it.

“Oh, right.” You touch your forehead. “Totally forgot to introduce you to each other. This is Jungkook.” You pause to think. “A friend of mine.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook. I’m Sunyoung, the housekeeper.”

Jungkook doesn’t miss the look Sunyoung gives you, the silent exchange that happens right before his eyes. He wants to grin.

“Well, I’m gonna go change, and leave you two alone again,” Sunyoung says, turning to him. “Nice meeting you, Jungkook.”

“Nice meeting you too.”

Sunyoung shares another look with you before she goes. It’s telling, and it’s extremely difficult for Jungkook to not pat himself on the shoulder. You have no idea.

“Please tell me that we can add some flour,” Jungkook says, holding his dough-covered hands into your face. You roll your eyes, but relent, sprinkling some on top of the dough. “More-”

“No, too much flour will make the buns dry and hard.”

“But the dough’s sticking all over my hands!”

“Just keep kneading, it will smooth out.”

Jungkook pouts. He doesn’t do as you say, trying to peel the dough off his hands instead. He eyes the bag of flour you’re holding in your hands, thinking that some flour would definitely solve the problem, but you’re protecting the bag of flour like your life depends on it.

“Just knead. It will smooth-”

“You said that five minutes ago.”

Jungkook expects you to repeat yourself, maybe sprinkle some more flour on top of the dough to get him to shut up. What he doesn’t expect you to do is to dump out the entire bag.

A huge cloud of flour puffs up. You two start coughing almost immediately.

“Why would you-?”

“You asked for it!”

He stares at you, wide-eyed. “Did I?”

You both crack up, and Jungkook isn’t sure if it’s his face that makes you laugh or the ridiculousness of the situation because holy fuck, you really just poured a bag of flour on the dough. And even though you two are breathing in flour as you laugh, neither of you stop.

One moment you two are just laughing, the next you are grabbing handfuls of flour and hurling it at each other. It turns into a full on... flour war.

You definitely should not be doing this—the mess you’re creating is going to be a pain in the ass to clean up later—but neither of you care. It’s too much fun to stop, the sound of your laughter too beautiful to interrupt.

You end up admitting defeat when Jungkook corners you, your lips split into a gigantic grin as you put up your hands.

You dust yourselves off, and Jungkook isn’t sure if he’s inept or stupid (or both) or if you’re just better at it because you bake in your freetime and therefore are more often covered in flour, but it simply won’t come off his clothes, no matter how many times he pats himself down.

You look up. He looks up too, face twisted in desperation and frustration. There’s a moment of silence. It doesn’t last long though, your laughter cutting through the air.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Jungkook tries but cracks up too.

“I-” You shake your head, unable to control yourself.

“You’re mean,” he tells you with a scrunch of his nose, and you keep on going, your laughter tumbling out of you like pearls of a broken necklace.

Jungkook pouts, dramatically. You keep on laughing at him, and when he moves to walk away from you, you stop him, hand holding onto his shoulders and pulling him back.

“Wait, no, don’t go,” you say with a grin, not even trying to hide it. “I’m sorry. Don’t be mad. I’m sorry.”

“Hard to believe when you’re still grinning like that,” Jungkook points out with a click of his tongue. He tries his best to keep up the act, but his mouth betray him.

“But you’re grinning too!”

“No, I’m not!”

He turns away from you, but you’re quick to grab his face and stop him. “Look, no, you are! See, you’re kinda smiling right now!”

And you’re right. Jungkook is kinda smiling right now, but it’s slowly fading away, breaking because holy shit, you’re close to him right now. His heart gives out in his chest.

“Oh.” You’re staring at his cheek, fingers brushing off the flour. “Is that a scar?”

You skim over it, your touch featherlight. It sends goosebumps down Jungkook’s back. “How’d you get it?”

“When I was seven,” he swallows, the proximity stealing his breath, “I, uh, fell from the swing.”

He expects you to coo, pat him on the shoulder, tell him how much the fall must have hurt. He expects you to show him empathy.

You don’t.

No, you show him the opposite. You start laughing, right into his face, without a care, like it isn’t a rude thing to do.

Jungkook exclaims your name in the most dramatic fashion possible. “You can’t laugh at me!”

“I can’t? Then what am I doing it right now?” you hum, an unabashed grin on your lips.

He narrows his eyes at you. “That fall hurt. You can’t laugh at that. It’s my trauma.”

“God, you’re so dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” He points at his cheek. “I got a scar- a scar from the fall! I’m not being-”

“Please, that scar doesn’t count as a scar. It’s miniature. Tiny. Invisible practically-”

“You saw it!”

“Only because I looked really closely.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to argue with you, but closes it again. He has nothing to say because you’re right. Not knowing what else to do and not wanting to admit defeat, he turns away from you, the pout on his lip so dramatic it makes you roll your eyes.

“Jungkook.”

He pretends not to hear you.

You stare at him, wait for him to give up the act, stop being petty. Nothing happens. Turns out though, it’s hard to keep up the act of being offended when you take his face into your hands, turn him to you, and press a kiss against his scar.

“Here, I kissed it. Acknowledged your scar. Fixed it for you.”

It’s not.

You didn’t fix shit. The scar’s still there. If anything you just opened up his scar again, the skin around it throbbing all of a sudden. But the kiss did do wonders. It gave Jungkook confidence he didn’t have mere seconds ago.

You don’t seem to register what kind of effect that kiss had on him. In fact, you don’t seem to think that it was a big deal at all. You still have the same easy smile on your lips, are still holding his face in your hands.

Tension fills the room. Your grip loosens. You’re unsure, but when Jungkook puts his hands on your waist and slowly leans in, you cup his face again. He gives you time to pull away, or tell him you don’t want it. You don’t.

Your eyes lock. It’s a silent exchange, a silent confirmation. It’s all he needs before Jungkook presses his lips against yours.

The kiss isn’t phenomenal. This is no TV show or romcom. There aren’t fireworks going off in the background, no butterflies soaring through the air, no time-freezes-to-a-stop when your lips meet. No, it’s a sweet and tender kiss, a kiss Jungkook won’t be forgetting for a while.

There’s something stirring in his stomach, growing and disrupting. He ignores it.

You pull Jungkook closer to you, and he does the same. You smile into the kiss, and he does the same. You tilt your head to the side, deepening the kiss, and he does the same, swiping his tongue on your bottom lip. And when you pull away, needing to breath, he does the same, reluctantly though.

It’s quiet between you, the kind of quiet when you have just done something brave, something you have wanted to do for a while now, something you have been waiting to do. You crack a smile.

“A friend of yours, that’s how you introduced me, right?” Jungkook recalls with a hum.

“Exactly.” You lean into him again, lips colliding with his once more. “Just friends.”

He snorts, kisses you a third time. “Just friends.”

You hum, pausing and looking into his eyes before kissing him again. This time it’s deeper, hands tighter, bodies closer, hearts quicker, grins bigger, kiss needier.

An hour later, the cinnamon buns finally go into the oven, and while the kitchen is back to its original form, the two of you—even though you dusted yourselves off—still have flour in your hair. You offer Jungkook to take the shower first, but he declines, telling you that the little bit of flour is fine. So you take it, leaving him alone in the kitchen.

He pulls out his phone.

[seokjin - 14:01] : How are things going? Just say a word and we’re there if you need any help. We can get you out of there.

[namjoon - 14:31] : Are you okay?

[yoongi - 14:47] : dont frget to activate the bug

Jungkook freezes upon reading the last text. He has completely forgotten about the bug, about why he’s actually here, so wrapped up in spending time with you and baking and, well, making out with you, it slipped his mind.

He shakes his head at himself. He can’t believe he forgot! Pressing his hand to his forehead, Jungkook closes his eyes and focusses up. If he wasn’t remembering the schedule wrong, Sunyoung should be in the basement doing the laundry right now, and you, well, you’re still showering. Meaning, this is his chance.

With a deep breath, Jungkook walks out the kitchen, looking over his shoulder as he does. And as he goes down the hallway, he’s thankful that Jimin forced him to memorise the blueprint of your house. Else he’d get lost, for sure.

Careful, he climbs up the steps, and when he finds the office door, next to one of the many bathrooms, he glances over his shoulder. Slowly, Jungkook presses down on the handle before slipping inside. The lock quietly clicks shut behind him.

Jungkook doesn’t breathe out when he’s inside. Truth is, he’s even more tense than before, vision blurry on the sides when he walks over to the office desk, not even seeing registering the big safe in the corner.

He fumbles with the bug, hands so shaky he almost drops it. Hastily, he slaps it on the underside of the desk before activating it. The confirmation beep is quiet, but Jungkook cringes, the sound ringing painfully loud in his ears.

With bated breath, he gets up and inches the door open, peeking into the hallway. Seeing no one, he slips out and hurries down the steps, sighing when he reaches the bottom, having not bumped into anyone-

“Jungkook?”

His heart seizes in his chest.

Slowly, Jungkook turns around, a smile on his lips. You stand in front of him in a new shirt and pants and a towel thrown over your shoulder. Your hair’s sti.. wet from the shower. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” he laughs. “I needed to use the bathroom.”

The lie slips easily from his lips. The bathroom lie always works, Jimin taught him. Feign innocence and confusion. Jimin’s right. The bathroom lie really does always work.

“I probably should have given you a tour first, huh? Could you find it?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. Got a bit lost, but I- I found it.”

You nod before pointing behind you, to the kitchen. “Wanna see if our buns are done yet?”

His chest tightens for some reason. Jungkook doesn’t know what it is, but he doesn’t think he wants to. All he knows is that the corners of his mouth hurt a little when he smiles at you.

“Sure.”

Seokjin and Namjoon ambush Jungkook the moment he walks in. They drag him into the living room where Hoseok, Yoongi and Jimin are already waiting for him.

“So?”

And then, Jungkook begins to recap the entire day for them. He tells them how Yerim was there because she didn’t trust him, how you laughed when he gave you the flowers, how you baked cinnamon rolls together, how your housekeeper came back, and how he planted the bug when the chance presented itself.

Jungkook tells them everything.

Everything except the kisses you shared.

Something in him tells him not to share that with the others, to leave that part out, to keep it a secret.

“Good job!” Namjoon pats him on the shoulder.

“You did good,” Seokjin says too, nodding approvingly. “Very good.”

And even though Jungkook’s been waiting to hear this all day, been waiting to come back, tell them what an amazing job he did and get praised, he doesn’t feel as happy as he thought he would; no smile automatically appearing on his lips. It’s weird. He doesn’t understand.

“Thank you,” Jungkook simply says at the end, and shrugs off Namjoon’s hand.

“Wow, so you really managed to not break my equipment this time, huh?” Yoongi hums, and before Jungkook can roll his eyes, Taehyung walks in, paintbrush in his hand.

“I need new colours,” Taehyung says, looking positively dead, like he hasn’t seen the sun in weeks. Paint is stuck to his shirt and hands. Before anyone can respond, he walks away, dragging his feet as he does.

“What’s with him?” Jungkook asks, and looks at the others, but they don’t answer. Namjoon gets up from his seat and follows Taehyung.

“It’s fine,” Jimin says before snapping his finger, remembering something. “I haven’t told you yet, have I?”

“Tell me what?” Jungkook asks, and Jimin smirks, proud.

“I made it on the team.”

Jungkook blinks at Jimin. It takes him a moment to understand what he mans. He made it on the your mother’s team.

“Oh.”

The older grins. “Yeah, got the call today. I’m hired.”

“We were going to text you, but we wanted you to keep your focus on the mission,” Seokjin explains. “I’m grabbing something from the kitchen. You guys want anything?”

Jimin and Jungkook decline, and Seokjin leaves them two alone.

“Hey, if you need any help now,” Jimin smiles, “I’m there to save your ass.”

Jungkook laughs. “Let’s hope I won’t need you.”

“Hope so too. But I’m there if you do. I got your back.”

“That’s great.”

And for some reason, that feels like a lie. For some reason, Jungkook doesn’t think it’s all that great. For some reason, Jungkook feels quite the opposite.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out, and when he sees who it is, a smile appears on his lips.

[you - 20:21] : had fun today!! hope you got home safe

[you - 20:21] : lets do it again some time!

And you do. You do it again and again and again and again until it becomes a routine for Jungkook to hang out at your place. He spends every day with you.

Yerim’s also there, at least for the next couple visits. And even though Jungkook fails to gain her trust, you manage to convince her to leave you two alone. Sunyoung’s always home when he’s there, but he barely ever sees her, she’s always off doing some chores. And even though Jungkook has spent hours at your place, he has yet to see your parents, both somehow always working.

So it’s always just you two, spending every minute together.

Most of the time, you bake something. There’s the occasional handful of flour that gets hurled at the other, but it never turns into a full on flour war like the first time. Sometimes, Siyeon’s there too. It’s fun with her, Jungkook must admit. She has energy neither of you have anymore, but it rubs off, most days at least.

Today’s not one of those days, the two of you lounging on the couch as you watch her put on a dance performance for you, some pop song Jungkook doesn’t recognise playing from your phone.

“Hey,” you whisper, and Jungkook glances between you and Siyeon, not wanting to miss a single thing because even if her moves are uncoordinated and badly coordinated, he’s still amazed.

“My parents-” you cut yourself short.

“Yeah?” Jungkook whispers, very interested now because anything concerning your parents is interesting, incredibly so. “What’s, uh, with your parents?”

You inch closer to him. “They wanna meet you.”

Oh.

It’s not what Jungkook expected you to say. He doesn’t know how to react. It shows.

“I mean only if you’re down for it too. No pressure. They just heard a bunch about you from Sunyoung and me and are interested in you, but obviously, if you’re not comfortable, no one’s forcing you-”

“No, no, no-”

“Y/N! Kook! I’m dancing!” Siyeon says, stopping and putting her hands on her hips.

“Right, sorry, go on,” you smile, and Jungkook waits the appropriate amount of time before talking again, voice much lower.

“No, I-” He jumbles up his words and he can’t help but think that Jimin wouldn’t have. He sits up and looks at you. You turn to him too.

“Meeting your parents sounds lovely.”

You blink at him before smiling. “Meeting your parents sounds lovely,” you mock and snort, eliciting a gasp from Jungkook. He’s about to say something too, call you mean, when Siyeon lets out a huff.

“You guys aren’t watching!”

Siyeon glares at Jungkook and you like you’ve committed the worst crime possible, hands crossed in front of her chest. He laughs. How could he not?

“Ah, I’m sorry, Siyeon,” you say in between chuckles. “Start again. Kook and I are watching now.”

“Yes, we’re sorry, Siyeon,” Jungkook repeats, the grin on his lips making it hard to believe though. “Please start again.”

And as you go to play the song again and Siyeon walks back into position, he and you lock eyes. You grin at each other.

“Smile, always smile,” Jimin says and Jungkook isn’t sure if this is the hundredth time he has repeated it or the thousandth time. Either way, Jimin’s words only elicit one reaction from Jungkook: he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, smile, I got it.”

“I’m serious! You have no idea how far a smile can go! People are more likely to believe you and like you-”

“When you smile and laugh a lot. Yes, I know,” Jungkook says and grabs his watch from his nightstand, strapping the silver jewelry around his wrist. “You’ve told me before.”

“Look, I’m just saying. Parents are usually a little bit more difficult, especially those artsy parents. They think they’re the real shit and look down on whoever they don’t deem worthy because of whatever reason. You screw up with her parents and you might screw it up with her. You don’t know what influence they have on her.” Jimin hands Jungkook his necklace. “I just don’t want everything to fail because she has shit parents. They probably are. Be prepared for the worst.”

“Assuring, Jimin,” Hoseok says, standing in the doorway, hands in his pocket. “Very assuring.”

“I’m just being realistic.”

Hoseok gives Jungkook a look. He doesn’t agree, clearly.

“Ready?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to answer Hoseok, but he isn’t sure. Part of him wants to say yes because Jimin is making him nervous, but part of him doesn’t because fuck, it’s just dawning on him that he’s meeting your fucking parents and if he screws this all up he’s so fucked- actually, no, fucked will not begin to even explain how fucked he will be-

“Hey, Kook?” Jimin places his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. “You good?”

“Uh, y-yeah, I just-” Jungkook shakes his head and catches himself in the mirror, suddenly questioning his choice of choosing a dark blue knit sweater and black slacks. Maybe he should go for a button down again. Or maybe change out the watch or take out the earrings. But he does feel the most comfortable-

“Look, you’ll be fine,” Hoseok says and walks in, putting an arm around his shoulde, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “You look really good, and you’ve been doing a good job and you’re going to keep doing a good job. You’ve got nothing to worry about, Kook.”

Jungkook wants to ask Hoseok how he’s so sure, what he would do if he doesn’t do a good job again, but he bites his tongue. Jimin slaps Jungkook on the back.

Downstairs everybody gathers around him again. Like last time, Namjoon hands him a bouquet of flowers.

“Ready?” Jimin asks, and when Jungkook goes to answer the question, there’s a lot less conviction swinging with his voice, the smile on his lips not quite reaching his eyes.

“Ready.”

You’re already standing in the doorway when Jungkook gets out of his car, like you’ve been staring out the window and waiting for him. The thought makes him smile.

He isn’t sure if it’s because you dressed up today or if it’s the soft sunlight hugging you, but god, you look breathtakingly gorgeous today. Well, you always do, but today just especially. His heart skips a beat.

“Hey, Kook!” you call out.

“Hey, Y/N!” he calls back, and you giggle. Jungkook thinks he’ll keep doing anything that will make you giggle. It’s his favourite sound, he realises. How could it not be?

“Brought flowers again?” you smile and point at the bouquet in his hands. He smiles.

“I did, but they’re not for you.” You let out a dramatic gasp. He laughs. “Sorry, but not today. Next time.”

You step aside and let him in. “So there will be a next time?”

“Isn’t there always?” Jungkook quips back with a grin as he follows you down the hallway.

“If you keep going like this,” you look over your shoulder and purse your lips, stopping, ”maybe not.”

Jungkook stops too, gapes at you. “But I didn’t do anything-”

“You sure?”

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to. The silence and tension between you is enough, the looks you share containing everything you want to say, all of the quips that dance on your tongues.

You raise a brow. He does too. You inch closer. He does too. You’re daring him right now. The way your lips curl up and the way your eyes sparkle andthe way you tilt your head making it obvious. It’s a dare Jungkook wants to take and will take, but right before he can, before he can drop the bouquet to the floor and cup your face and press his lips against yours and melt into you and steal your breath, your father walks in from the living room.

“Oh.”

You two jump apart like you’ve been stung by bees, like someone has lit your feet on fire.

“Dad, oh, hi,” you laugh, wringing your hands together.

“What were you two doing?” your father asks, gesturing between you, face hard.

You’re quick to answer, your voice higher than usual. “N-nothing. We weren’t doing anything. Just, uh, standing.”

“Very closely, don’t you think?”

You try to say anything, but no words leave your lips.

“Young man,” your father says and Jungkook jumps, eyes doubling in size. “Are you just gonna stand there or introduce yourself? Has no one taught you manners?”

“Uh, I- yes, of course. My, uh, name is Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” He clears his throat, hands tugging on his sweater. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Your father narrows his eyes. “Sir. It’s nice to meet you, Sir.”

“Dad!” you hiss, but your father doesn’t even look at you, staring down Jungkook instead.

“R-right, excuse me, Sir,” he apologises and averts his gaze, feeling like a child being scolded. “I-It’s nice to meet you, Sir.”

He stretches out his hand, but your father just stares at it, face hard and stiff. Slowly, Jungkook drops his hand, giving you a panicked look, but you don’t seem to know what to do either, staring back at him.

Jungkook’s heart is pounding in his chest. He’s about to run, pack his bags and flee the fucking country when your mother appears, an apron tied around her waist.

She hisses your father’s name. “What are you doing? Stop it! You’re scaring them!”

And then your father cracks a smile.

The tension dissipates instantly.

“Sorry, I was just messing with you,” he explains, and Jungkook and you stare at him like he’s grown a second head, neither of you comprehending. The shift in his demanour confusing Jungkook even more.

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook. Excuse my husband please,” your mother says and steps forward, stretching out her hand. She tells him her name. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Jungkook takes her hand, offering her a smile, still somewhat confused though.

“Uh, h-hello, it’s very nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

Your mother looks mortified. For a second, Jungkook’s thinks she recognises his name and knows who he is and what he does and that he’s only here to-

“Oh, god, please don’t call me ‘ma’am’. It makes me feel ancient.”

“But-” Jungkook finishes his sentence by looking at your father, and your mother is quick to hit him.

“This is all your fault! Look what have you done? Proud?”

Your father grins, shrugging. “I was just joking.”

“God, dad,” you sigh and bury your face in your hands, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry,” your father says and pats Jungkook on the shoulder before pointing at the bouquet. “Are those lilies?”

Jungkook looks down. He almost forgot. Quickly, he offers them to your mother. “These are for-”

“Lilies! My favourite flowers!” Your mother cooes. “How’d you know?”

“Ah, just a lucky guess,” Jungkook laughs. It’s a lie. He knows because he’s researched you and your family, extensively. “I’m glad you like them.”

“No flowers for me? I see how it is.” Your father clutches his chest and feigns a sniff. “I’m just not important, huh?”

“What? No, I-I wasn’t-”

“Stop,” you place your hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “It’s fine. He’s just messing with you.”

Your father scoffs. “I’m not. This time I’m not joking.” He turns to Jungkook. “I’m telling you this now, Jungkook, I’m not appreciated in this household. I’m warning you-”

“Yes, you’re very underappreciated.” Your mother rolls her eyes. “That’s why I made your favourite food today-”

Your father looks at your mother. “You-”

“Yes, now come.” She tugs on his arm. “Let’s have dinner.”

“You guys go first,” you tell her when she turns to you. Jungkook looks at you. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

He doesn’t understand, and neither do your parents judging from the looks they share. But they go anyway, leaving you two alone.

“What-”

The moment they’re gone, you press your lips against his. Jungkook’s taken aback for a second, hands hanging in the air before they find their way around your waist. He pulls you close to him and smiles. It’s the last thing he expected you to do, but he more than welcomes it, loves it. Your one hand is fisting his sweater, pulling him down to you, and the other one is holding his cheek, thumb brushing over his scar. Jungkook feels his heart in his throat, your touch electrifying.

“What was that for?” he asks you breathless when you part, smiling when he sees the grin on your lips.

“Felt like it,” you tell him, shrugging. “They interrupted us before.”

Jungkook laughs.

You take his hand into yours. “Come, let’s go. They’re gonna be suspicious if we keep them waiting for too long.”

“Right, because staying back was not suspicious at all, was it?”

You roll your eyes. “Just come.”

By the end of the night, Jungkook concludes two things.

One, you are, truly, your parents’ daughter; you look hauntingly similar to your mother and your mannerisms are almost completely identical to your father’s.

Two, Jimin’s wrong, again. Because your parents aren’t judgemental or arrogant or superficial. They’re the opposite, humble, smart, kind, funny. They’re just like you.

“So, how was it?” you ask when you come to a stop next to his car.

The wind’s tugging on your cardigan. You hug the garment closer to your body. The night’s dark today, pitch dark, but Jungkook sees you clearly, you shining brighter than the stars in the sky tonight. The moonlight casts a soft white glow, enveloping you.

You look breathtakingly beautiful.

“Was meeting my parents as lovely as you thought it’d be?”

Jungkook smiles. “It was.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m happy to hear that.”

“Are you?” he laughs, and you hum.

“Of course.” The moonlight brings out your eyes. “My parents like you too, by the way.”

He tilts his head. “Do they? Did they tell you that?”

You smile at him. “No, but I know.”

He raises a brow. “How do you-”

“I just do,” you tell him with a scrunch of your nose.

Jungkook laughs. “Well, that’s great, right?”

“Very,” you say and take a step closer to him. “Don’t know what I would do if they didn’t.”

“It's that important to you that they like me, huh?”

“Well,” you hum, “yeah.”

You take a step closer to him, the pebbles crunching under your shoes. You pick a piece of lint off his sweater, discarding it.

“You see, my grandparents didn’t like any of my mom’s boyfriends,” you tell him quietly, tilting your head. “Except for my dad. He was the exception.” You place your hands on his chest. “Look at them now.”

Jungkook laughs. “You think we’re gonna turn out like your parents then?”

He expects you to tell him no, to tell him that obviously, it takes more than that for you to end up like your parents. You don’t. You just stare at him, a smile on your lips. Slowly, Jungkook’s heart begins to break.

“Maybe,” you whisper into the air.

And before the guilt can eat him up, plant itself deep within his chest, bury itself in between his ribs and tear him apart from inside, you press your lips against his. Jungkook reciprocates because kissing you is all he has wanted to do all night. But he can feel his heart tighten, feel it crack in his chest.

Because he has done it.

Jungkook has deceived you, completely gained your trust. He has done what he has been tasked with, has fully infiltrated you and your family. He should be proud of himself, should be over the moon right now, jumping up and down, itching to rush to the others and tell them.

He should be happy.

He is not.

Instead, Jungkook is sorry, truly sorry.

→ links don’t work, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts/feedback! i’d love to hear it!

#ficscafe #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #bts #linh.fic #(he) art thief one

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oksana-moods · 3 years

Text

Queens of Promise - Part 4

Summary: Even with all the fragments she has in her hands, Wanda can’t crack the puzzle before her. Especially when her enemy is a walking puzzle.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader; Medieval Au

A/N: Okay, don’t hate me. If you’re waiting this piece I know it took me a long time to post it, but here we are and I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that part 5 and 6 are basically ready. Oh keep in mind that this part we’ll be following the story through Wanda’s point of view. If you don’t know yet, italics meant memories. Let me know your thoughts.

- Previous Parts here

Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of death, mentions of blood. If there’s any other, let me know.

"We were the victims of ourselves"

Wolfgang Castle – Sokovia

Wanda paced on the room and stared at her bandage on her right wrist, the only injured she acquired after her quest to Iron Bay. Still, she was astonished that this was her only injury, for she feared for more, especially after the Young Lioness and her unit had found her.

She ran through her mind all the possible reasons for you to let her go freely and she ran out of fair explanations. Her mind was plagued with the why. Why would you let her go, when all the circumstances were turned at your favor? Why set her free, when Wanda was cornered, and her capture would probably render you a peace agreement?

There were so many questions and little to no answers, what made her even angrier. There was something so infuriating about you that made her stomach churn. How could someone be so galling to the point of calling her, a Maximoff, an idiot? How could someone be so annoying, so full of themselves to keep a daring smile on their lips with the enemy’s sword kissing their neck?

Ever since she met you, Wanda thought, she started to loathe Taharr’s colors even more. Her despise only grew whenever she heard stories about your adventures or battles throughout Noveria or foreign lands, like Westeros. And she hated how you tried to play with her mind on your previous encounters.

Yet, you’d let her go from a battle, in the middle of the war, no less. Such action was incompatible with the ruthlessness accredited to the Lionesses. Granted, you knew about the Kree and that gave you advantage enough already, still, she couldn’t help but think something wasn’t right.

“I’m afraid you’ll open a hole on the ground if you keep marching like this.” Pietro’s voice brought Wanda out of her head, and she looked up to meet his wide smile. “What make you so anxious, dear sister?” He took a seat at the table before him and started to have his breakfast.

Before replying, Wanda took her brother in, he was handsome, but she could see traces of sleep deprivation taking its toll on him, he looked much older than he was. The worries of engaging a war added to the lack of food and supplies throughout the kingdom weighted on his shoulders, burden that they agreed in sharing. However, it was more than obvious that he was taking the heavier part.

Hence why Wanda sought the Kree for help. She wasn’t a fool, much less reckless to the point of setting a permanent agreement with them, she knew the tales of their invasion and the war that moved nearly every king and queen in Noveria. But her people were starving, and they needed options other than relying on Hydrarr supplies.

Vision, King Pietro’s advisor, had guaranteed that said supplies weren’t obtained by heists or raids, but legally attained from Braavos. She was suspicious about it, but after seeing entire villages turn into graveyard, she decided that she could deal with her consciousness later, when there wouldn’t be a child begging her for food.

“I’m just speculating what Taharr will do with the intel about our friendship with the Kree.” She spoke at last, taking a seat for herself, for it’s been a while since her last meal.

“I’d hardly call our agreement of friendship, Princess.” Vision made himself known as soon as he entered the hall, pouring a liquid into his cup.

“It doesn’t matter your semantics’ idea, Vis. Everybody hates the Kree just as much as they hate Hydrarr, our secrets were exposed, and we may lose our allies.” Wanda was never one to sugarcoat the truth, she wouldn’t start now.

“What do you think Taharr will do with this new intel?” Vision asked, never breaking eye contact with Wanda and she felt unnerved by it, he always looked at her as If he could unbury her deepest secrets.

Looking at the cup in front of her, Wanda tried to focus on his question and calculate what would be your next step and whenever she thought about your options, the image of your stupid grin plagued her mind and she hated it. She shook her head lightly, trying to think coherently.

“They’ll probably warn their allies about the possibility of Kree strutting on Noveria again.” She spoke, this is exactly what she’d do if it were the other way around. Both men nodded, then started to talk among themselves about the latest news from the battlefront and she retreated to her room, no longer in the mood of having breakfast.

She stopped in front of her window and marveled in the beauty of Sokovia’s mountains. Green covered every single spot and she smiled remembering how many times she and Pietro scaped the castle to play in the forest not far from their home.

Her mother always seemed to know what they were doing, even though they could swear they were being subtle about it. The smiled faded when longing embraced her heart due the memory of her parents.

Oh how she missed her father’s wisdom! He always seemed to know what he was doing or what he was supposed to do and her mother… Wanda wished she had a fairy godmother, just like in the books, so she could ask for her mother’s presence once more. In between her mother’s arms, she always felt safe, always felt that things would be okay.

Closing her eyes as to avoid the tears that insisted in stung her eyes, the redhead tried to clear her thoughts. She needed to be strong for her brother and for her kingdom. Right now, she needed to be a grown woman fighting to bring peace to her realm, she needed to be a princess who’d do everything to feed her own people.

Wanda walked to the couch on her receiving room and stared at the sheath of her dagger on her coffee table. The one she lost when she stabbed you. She could still feel the panic that raised in her chest when she fell on the ground and lost her helmet, though she loved how your eyes surveyed her face or to see you speechless for a whole moment, completely stunned with the Scalet Knight’s identity.

She traced the patterns on the leather in her hand, disliking the fact that she had hesitate to cut you with her knife. Wanda saw this hesitation as weakness, for she knew you were the enemy. You had a pretty face and an easy smile, but you were still the enemy.

Even though she tried really hard, Wanda couldn’t comprehend why she felt so bothered by your expression morphing into confusion then into pain before you touched the hilt of her dagger, nor why she couldn’t erase the distress that coursed through your face when you saw Kree’s flag away on the harbor.

“Why would the glorious and brave lioness be so afraid of the Kree?” She mused to herself, frowning at the lack of imagination or answer for her question. Closing her eyes one more time, she leaned her head on the couch and smiled softly, remembering the last time she had seem such distress gracing your features.

“My princess, scout’s report says there are some Taharr’s soldiers in Karov’s village.” Natasha spoke the second she entered Wanda’s chambers, kindly prepared to her by Victor Karkarov, one of their liegemen and owner of the state she took as house and headquarters for the time she’d be spending in the south, close to the borders.

The reports of attacks and heists on their villages close to the gold mines became more frequent and, even though Vision said he had his spies and men investigating it, Wanda wanted to see it for herself. Ever since King Tony’s wedding, she couldn’t stop thinking about what you had said to her.

It’s been a lifetime since her last visit to the borders and though she hated to admit, you were right, her people were starving, they were in need and the court and nobles in Sokovia, somehow, overlooked it. This was unacceptable.

She had marched south with a whole unit on her wake, despite the protests from Vision, who insisted that she shouldn’t go, that she’d expose and endanger herself, but she didn’t care. She needed to do something.

Her unit could fight back the attackers, who seemed to be focusing on their crops. Such a vile, despicable act to steal people’s food, especially when Taharr didn’t need any, because it was common knowledge that they had the most productive farms in the world. Taharr would never starve.

Yet, queen Calanthe was mean to the point of making people desperate with hunger and starvation. Now, Wanda had the chance to kill the bastards that railed her kingdom and would make them pay for the suffering they’d caused.

“Where are they attacking?” She asked her friend and guard while picking up a piece of her armor, ready to attach on herself.

“They are…” Natasha’s voice was unusually lacking confidence, as if something didn’t add up. “The scout said that there were few of them, and they were drinking in Nebula’s Pub ‘n’ Lodge.” She finished.

“Few? How many?” Wanda asked, halting her movements and turning to look at Natasha.

“She wasn’t sure, but Bishop said that it wouldn’t be more than four. So I’d guess that the number is around ten. She’s still in training.” The assassin shrugged and crossed her arms, leaning on the door frame, waiting for her next orders.

Wanda worked her lips while pondering what her next move should be. Maybe they could kidnap one of said soldiers and demand answers, but discarded such idea, soldiers wouldn’t know much, they only follow orders.

Maybe they should kill all of them and leave their bodies hanging on the border’s gates as a warning, but she discarded this one as well. If they were in a pub, they weren’t ready or with the intention to fight, there wouldn’t be honor in this attitude.

She discarded the piece of armor on her hand on the same place it was before she’d picked, then turned to Natasha one more time and spoke. “Take me to this pub, I want to have a few words with those soldiers.”

The woman, known as Black Widow, opened her mouth ready to protest at this idea, but decided against it, for she knew how stubborn her princess could be. She merely nodded and retreated from the room, so Wanda could change her clothes with privacy.

Laugher hit her ears in the same time heat and roasted meat mixed with sweat hit her nostrils the second she entered the pub’s doors. Lady Romanoff had asked few of her men to go in first and to stay there blending in, chilling and enjoying the evening as if they were just clients after a beer.

Wanda surveyed the room looking for the men they were after, but the pub was too crowded, and nobody stood out as she had thought they would. There were some people dancing with the song the blonde woman was singing, who had a quite nice voice and definitely could handle a guitar.

Wanda wasn’t there to appreciate the music, though. So, she started to walk towards the counter but stopped on her tracks when a new, louder laughter found her ears. Slowly, she turned to look at the source and much to her dismay, she found the soldiers she’d been looking for.

Right in the corner of the pub, there were four people seated on a table filled with empty food plates and beer stein, making it obvious that the group was there for quite some time now. One of them was the princess of Taharr, the Young Lioness, laughing at something that one of her companions had said.

Wanda’s anger flared. The nerve of you, to attack her lands and people, even after you had said that you had nothing to do with the heists. Even after you had told Wanda about a childish dream to live without war. You had lied, just like she was supposed to know, Vision had alerted her on how you used to tell lies to whoever bought them.

There was nothing more that she wanted to do than to jump on your neck and squeeze the life out of you, until she could wipe that stupid smug smile you always had on your lips. Though, she stood there for a whole minute taking her surroundings in.

If she started a fight, a lot of people would get involved and innocent people could get hurt, she’d had to attract you to the streets before drawing her sword. She looked at the clothes you were wearing, and something was wrong, for your tunics and robes seemed far simpler than it should be. A princess wouldn’t wear something that a commoner would. And there wasn’t a single trace of armor.

Narrowing her eyes, she saw that your companions were wearing clothes just as simple as yours and there was not even a single weapon on sight, only a small knife on your waist. Again, something that a commoner would have.

After a second too long, Wanda’s eyes widened when realization hit her, you were blending in. You and your men were trying to look like you were simple, common people. Why though? Before her head started to hurt, Wanda walked towards your table, ready to bring this façade down.

“Such a strange place to meet you, princess.” Wanda spoke as soon as she stopped at the head of the table you were. A smile made its way to Wanda’s lips on its own accords when your eyes met and your chill demeanor morphed to a disturbed one, you had been get caught red handed.

Your eyes shifted around Wanda, probably trying to see how badly surrounded you were and shared an alarmed look with the woman on the other side of the table. After a full conversation with only your eyes, you turned to Wanda once more.

Now sporting your best smug smile. “I could say the same, princess Maximoff.” You spoke, leaning backwards on your chair, as if you owned the place. “But I’ll limit myself to say that I don’t know what you’re talking about. And though you flatter me by thinking I’m a princess, I’m just a simple trader looking for a hot meal and good beer, M’Lady.” You finished, lifting the stein as if on a toast.

Wanda lowered herself when she leaned on the table, using it as support for her hands, conveying the most dangerous look she could. “You’re in no position for pulling jokes.” Wanda hissed and instead of shrinking under her gaze, she saw your mouth to contort into a smirk.

Your eyes raked over her body with such intensity that Wanda felt heat reaching her cheeks. “I can be in whatever position pleases you, M’Lady.” Wanda’s eyes widened and she scoffed the second she recomposed herself.

“You like to be funny, don’t you?” She stood up and crossed her arms, suddenly feeling self-conscious under your gaze. “Drop the act. You and your followers are not supposed to be here.” She indicated the others on the table with her head firmly.

She stared at you, as if daring you to give another smart comeback. You drank all your beer, then rested your stein on the table and got up to your feet. “What will you do, Princess?” You spoke lowly, mockery no longer present on your tone.

“How dare you to pose before me like that when you’re in mykingdom’s lands, in my city?” There was something about you that made Wanda want to slap your face, but she kept her hands to herself.

“If you want me to leave, I’m telling you that I won’t.” You said after a while. Your eyes surveying hers, but she couldn’t understand what you were looking for.

“Of course you will. I’ll have you escorted out of Sokovia before dawn.” Wanda took one step closer to you, standing her ground, but you seemed unfazed by her demands and that made her exasperated. “Your heists end now.”

You scoffed at Wanda’s words. “You sound like a broken tune, Maximoff.” You too took one step closer, into her personal space, intimidation is your business, Wanda thinks to herself. “I’m here to investigate the heists, not to cause them.”

Again, Wanda scoffed and rolled her eyes sarcastically. Of course you’d lie, that’s all you do. “And you expect me to believe it?” She balled her fists angrily. “Our crops are vanishing and you, my enemy, are trespassing my borders… Do you really expect me to believe that you came here to play our holy savior?”

You stood there, looking at her eyes intently and for the second time that night, Wanda felt uncomfortable under your stare. “I don’t expect you to believe me, for I know you never will. But I have a lead on the possible culprits and I’m planning on dig in it.” You hardened your gaze. “And nothing will stop me, Princess.”

“You’re surrounded and you’re not going anywhere in my kingdom.” Wanda seethed. You had the gall to impose your demands as if she were a commoner, as if her commands meant nothing to you.

Much like everybody else, you didn’t see Wanda as a threat, but just like a young woman who grow up in the comfort of a castle and didn’t know how real life goes. Wanda knew that you underestimated her and that was about to change.

You sighed and a smirk grew on your lips, an infuriating smirk and this time Wanda would wipe it out. “Princess Wanda, I don’t-.”

Wanda watched pleased as your words died down on your lips when she unsheathed your knife expertly fast and brought it to your throat. As your own blade kissed your skin, she relished in the sight of your throat working up an amount of saliva down and the distress that washed over your features.

Your eyes flashed with surprise and worry way too fast for her liking before that irritating smirk was back on. “Quick hands, Princess. What else can you do with them?” You teased, obviously to defuse the situation, for Wanda saw your guard getting up and drawing their knives.

However, she pressed the knife further until she saw droplets of blood staining your metal. “Who do you think you are to speak with me like this?” Wanda snarled, leaning her face closer so you could hear her properly.

Even endangered, your stance didn’t fail, she had to give you that. “I’m sure you’ve heard stories about how gallant and charming the Young Lioness is. And believe me, I was sincerely curious, Maximoff.” Your voice was low in a way that made Wanda clench her jaw.

“That mouth will get you killed one day, Princess and your title will change to Dead Lioness. Be aware that I’ll make sure is by my hands.” Wanda threatened with anger boiling in her stomach, dipping through her eyes.

Only then, Wanda realized that the song had long stopped and everybody in the pub watched wide eyed the commotion she was forced to create. ‘Uh this infuriating Lioness.’ She thought while thinking her next step. She couldn’t kill you, for this would mean to provoke the wrath of Queen Calanthe. She knew better than that.

The urgency of the city’s bells sliced her thoughts, and she was brought back to reality. Murmurs spread through the pub, whispers wondering what was happening until the door burst open and a city guard panted out. “Invaders!” He looked around, his face mirroring the costumers’ shocked ones. “Raiders are railing the crops of Falka’s farm in northeast!”

All hell broke loose and people started to run, trying to get to their houses as fast as they could, hoping their walls and doors would keep them safe from the merciless intruders. Wanda turned to look at your eyes again when she felt your hand gripping the wrist whose hand was holding the knife against your neck.

Alarm and distress painted your face when you asked devoid of any sarcasm or mockery, your voice felt almost foreign to her ears. For a moment, she forgot to hate you. “Wanda, let me go. We can help.” Your words delivered genuine concern and care, so much so that for a whole second, she contemplated your offer. Wanda knew how capable you were in a fight and she could use all the help she could get to stop this assault.

But then, she looked back again into your eyes trying to find the deceit she knew would be hidden there. For all she knew, this could very well be a ploy, a last minute diversion, intending to fool her and make her believe that your army was not the responsible for the incursions.

So she narrowed her eyes and sneered. “You don’t fool me, Taharr.” Wanda took another step and pushed the knife harder, to that, your body hit the wall behind you. “Call off this ruse, now and I might let you live to see the daylight.” She threatens with greeted teeth, her people wouldn’t starve because of your whims.

“Use that pretty head of yours just this once, Princess, and stop spitting all this nonsense at me.” The urgency in your voice and your eyes was unsettling. “You certainly look like a fool right now if you’re letting your people to suffer just because a pride just as big as your ass.”

Wanda scoffed again and that seemed to be the last straw for you. Even faster than her movement was yours to take the knife from your neck and turn her around. You had her back completely flushed against your front, knife somewhat close to her neck but not really posing as a real threat, but Wanda knew better than to try anything.

“Back off, Romanoff.” You spoke towards her personal guard when she took a sharp step to intervene on your sudden movement. “Now everybody listen to me carefully: Me and my people are leaving this place. Unscathed.” Wanda could feel your eyes darting around to check if anyone would try anything different. “Do we have a deal, Princess?” You spoke softly and her jaw clenched.

For reasons beyond her understanding, Wanda couldn’t quite trust her voice in that moment, so she decided to just nod and hum as response. Somehow this was answer enough for you, because next second all she could feel was your hot breath much closer to her ear than deemed appropriate.

The soft brush of your lips on her skin gave her a foreign sensation, that she promptly pushed away. “As much as I’d love to keep your body like this, I don’t want innocent people to die when I could’ve helped.” Wanda could hear the grin in your voice even with your voice so low that was almost a whisper. “Farewell, Princess.”

Before she could muster any word, any argument, you pushed her hard towards Natasha, creating a commotion. And with the Black Widow focused on making sure her protégé was safe, you and your friends fled the pub fast. The moment your boots touched the streets, you disappeared without a single trace of your whereabouts.

A deep knock on her door brought Wanda back from her thoughts, shaking her head, she ordered the person to come in.

For a second Wanda’s afraid it may be Vision and she’s already regretting inviting the person without check first, but then, Natasha Romanoff comes through the door, and she lets out the breath she’s been holding on.

“Is that relief in seeing me?” Natasha smirk while walking towards Wanda. “Were you expecting someone else?” She inquires, sitting by her friend’s side.

“For a moment I thought that could be Vision and I’m not in the mood to catch up with his icy eyes judging my choices.” Wanda was exasperated, ever since her failed mission she was restless. There was so much at stake, and she couldn’t stop thinking about you. The enemy, no less.

“I see. He gives me chills too.” The Black Widow replies quietly. Wordlessly, she extends her arm to the princess and delivered a letter in a form of small scroll, with a dark purple wax exhibiting an H in its center. Wanda looked at it as if afraid it’d turn into a vicious animal, but she took it with her hands after the paper remained a paper.

She broke the seal and carefully read every word twice as to not misunderstand what was written. “She requests us to meet her.” Wanda closed her eyes; she didn’t like this, not in slightest.

Sensing her friend’s demeanor shift, Nat inquires. “Meet where, when?”

“Two moons from now in Garlan’s creak village, past Gamora Mountains.” Wanda’s eyes darkened, already overthinking everything that could go wrong. “And she wants the gem first, then she’ll deliver the ships with food and our supplies.” She finished and lowered her head on her hands.

Your words plaguing her mind and she had a gut feeling that she shouldn’t really deal with the Kree much less with their emissary, Agatha Harkness. There was something about your fear of the Kree that held her back, instead of exploiting this weakness. What if you were right?

“I’m not sure about this exchange anymore, Nat.” Wanda turned to look at the woman by her side. “What if this arrangement brings more pain and suffering than it should? More than we can handle?”

The spy had seen doubts plaguing the princess’s eyes one too many times, but this time had an edge of something new. Fear. She couldn’t argue with that, she too was uncertain about this whole ordeal in first place. “I don’t like this more than you do. But there’s no turning back now, I’m afraid.”

Wanda grunts and gets up to her feet and starts to pace again. The action always seemed to calm her nerves, now did nothing but to bring agony to who’s watching and to herself as well, for she was far from the answers she needed.

“I just hate to dive in the dark, you know?” She mused more to herself than to her companion. “It feels that something does not add up. As if Vision is holding back information.”

She pauses briefly to look at her personal guard and best friend, then resumes her pace again. “I agree with you, Wanda. There’s something about this whole thing that does not smell right.” Natasha leans her elbows on her knees and locks eyes with Wanda before she turns on her pace.

“What do you mean?” Wanda’s fingers were on her lips, brows furrowed with deep thought, trying to solve an impossible puzzle when she knew she didn’t have the right pieces. “Did you find something?” She stops on the corner, waiting for a response.

“It’s more what I didn’t.” The spy starts. “All the shipments sent to us, up until now, by Hydrarr are clean, too clean. No manifests, no brands, no nothing.” She shakes her head lightly. “It is almost as if someone put some great effort to clean everything.”

Wanda nodded her head, digesting this new piece of information, this new piece of the puzzle. “You mean that the shipments went through some laundry.” It wasn’t a question; Wanda was not stupid. Underestimated? Yes. But she had learned her lessons with the best, one of them sitting right in front of her.

“That’s the main possibility, yes.” Natasha spoke again. “And Vision’s explanations did not suffice at all, not in the least.” She licked her lips before letting her next words scape her mouth. She knew she was a Lady and friends with a princess, but such suggestion on times like this, during war, could be considered treason.

However, she had a duty with her kingdom, with her king and with her princess. She, alongside Sir Rogers, had promised to their parents to take care of their children and that’s why she’s the princess protector and most trusted advisor. “This is a very sensitive subject, my princess…”

At the mention of her title, Wanda’s head snapped towards the spy on her couch. She anticipated that her next sentence would mean more than a simple advice, but kingdom wise matter. “… But how far should we take our trust on Vision?”

The air was taken from Wanda’s lungs and for a moment she contemplated what was said. Vision was around their court as long as she remembers and after her parents passed, he stepped as Pietro’s advisor.

Despite Sir Rogers services to the crown since forever, Pietro chose his best friend to walk the supreme ruler’s path by his side. However, squinting hard, Wanda couldn’t remember where Vision came from, nor his household.

She shook her head at the new information disclosed, trying to disperse the doubts clouding her beliefs. They must not start hunting down their allies, their friends. Or else, who will they become?

“Pietro trusts Vision.” She says, not sure if to remind Natasha or herself.

“The question is: Do you?” The Black Widow asks without missing a beat and the princess’ eyes land on hers once more, full of worries and uncertainties.

“I trust Pietro’s judgements.” Wanda replies, hating the new puzzle added to the pot. She shakes her head again, concentrating at the matter at hand. “Let’s focus on Harkness for now. We must prepare and leave as soon as possible in order to reach Garlan before snow.”

“I’ll make sure we have everything we may need to leave in two days.” Lady Romanoff gets to her feet and walks herself to the door, turning only to bid her friend good night.

The Maximoff girl indeed tries to have a good night of sleep, for she knows the warmth of the bed for the night is a comfort and pleasure that had their days numbered. Her restless dream is plagued with white armor, an enemy’s grin and thousands of conspiracies.

Part 5

#princess wanda #wanda maximov #wanda maximoff #wanda x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #queens of promise #marvel wlw #wlw angst #marvel series #medieval au #princess reader #scarlet witch #scarlet knight #agatha harkness

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zephyr-thedragon · 3 years

Text

guys-

guys I did it

I wrote the TLC pirate au (and by wrote I mean the first chapter shjfjggh) AH I'm really excited, okok here we go

for people who are confused this was the original post I made that blew up just a little bit:

and I REALLY committed to that so ANYWAYSSSS, I don't have a name for this series yet, I was thinking like "Chasing Kings and Crowns" or smthn but if you have any ideas please let me knowwww

Here's the wattpad link, I'm still trying to get ao3 sorted out but I'll add it once it's done :))

This is also my first real fic so I'm not gonna have a set schedule cause that just seems anxiety inducing and I don't want to put much pressure on myself.

Andddd I think that's it for authors notes so.....enjoy!

(First Chapter: 2.3k words, we get a lot of backstory about Cinder and her and Thorne have a friendly convo when neither of them are able to sleep, Thorne has a treasure map that might change the course of their story)

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Cinder couldn’t sleep, the waves were rocking the boat too much and her bunk seemed more uncomfortable than usual. It had been almost a year since she joined the Rampion Crew and she still wasn’t used to the way the ship rocked so violently at night it would make her sick.

But by crew she meant just her and Thorne, on this vast ship in this vast sea, stealing things for a living. It was an interesting life, sometimes it was fun, other times it was lonely, but either way it was always extremely suffocating. Physically and mentally- seriously why were her quarters so cramped?

She had these thoughts often, wondering what would have happened if she didn’t join Thorne and imagining how everything would have played out if she didn’t board his ship that day, but she always came back to the same conclusion- she would’ve been arrested, trialed for her crimes against the Eastern Kingdom and most likely sentenced to death. Living on a pirate ship hopping around the coast and performing weekly heists was definitely better than being beheaded.

Plus, she was helping people. People like her, who lost their limbs in a battle or ship raid or in the ongoing war, some people were born without certain limbs, and they all deserved to be treated and cared for the same way any human would.

That’s how this all started.

She’d lost her hand and her leg in a ship raid when she was just a toddler. She doesn’t remember it, or any of her childhood from before. She was told that her parents had died in the raid and the doctor on board had saved her and escaped to shore. All she remembers is waking up from a coma, and being sent to live with her adoptive family in the Eastern Kingdom.

They were a kind and loving family, until her sister had died.

Peony, dear sweet Peony. She didn’t deserve to go so soon. She had caught the plague, and it eventually spread to her stepfather, who’d gotten sick and died not two weeks after her sister.

Her stepmother spiraled into madness. She became broken, a shell of woman who was once filled with joy, She became cruel and abusive. She made Cinder her own personal servant, ordering her around like a pet. Her other sister Pearl was no help, she became just as cruel as her mother.

So Cinder ran away, and that’s when she began stealing things.

At first she only took what she needed, but then she found other people like her who also needed help. So she started stealing for them too.

It had gone on like that for years, until the authorities found out about her little operation and she was forced to run.

She became a fugitive, the most wanted in her entire city. But she kept stealing things, to help the people she cared about. But then one day, she came home to find that her base had been raided. The police had found her. So she kept running, and running and running until there was no more land left to run on. That was the day she joined Thorne.

That was the day her whole life changed.

She was about to lay back down and try to go back to bed when she heard footsteps start above her, in the captain’s cabin. There wasn’t much luck in falling back asleep anyway, so she let curiosity take the lead and headed down the hall and up the stairs.

* * *

As much as she despised the rocking waves for making her sick, you had to admit they were beautiful. Especially at night, when the moonlight reflected on them creating a string of light that seemed to travel across the entire ocean. On a calm night, it was almost magical. You could imagine a siren singing, calling you to the shore from hundreds of miles away, and almost believe it was real.

Tonight was not one of those nights.

A wave crashed against the boat and splattered on her cheek as she emerged from the trapdoor. She struggled to get her bearings but managed to steady herself enough so she could use her hook to grab onto the mainmast and stand up straight.

A light was on in the captain’s cabin and she could hear Thorne pacing around the table. She quickly shuffled over to the door and let herself in before another wave crashed onto the deck.

She closed the door behind her and turned around to see Thorne hunched over the table inspecting a large piece of paper.

The captain’s quarters were very regal, with a long desk in the middle of the room with large windows spanning the entire back wall. There was a golden candelabra lit on the corner of the table, with a few other lanterns spread out across the room.

“What did we say about knocking?” Thorne asked, without looking up.

“That during a storm it was unnecessary?”

This time, he did look up. “It’s not storming.”

She rounded the table to see what he was looking at. “With how high the waves are it very well could be.” She inspected the paper that was sprawled across the table. It was a treasure map. “What’s this?”

“Eh. It’s nothing.” He started folding up the map, but she slammed her hook down on the table to stop him. Something in the corner of the map had caught her eye. A name, or a title perhaps.

“Darwin Grim? Isn’t that that old children’s tale you’re obsessed with?”

He yanked the map out from under her hook. “It is not a children’s tale and no I’m not obsessed with it.” He folded it back up and went to stash it in the top drawer of his desk in the corner of the room . “It’s a legend my parents used to tell me about, the treasure of Darwin Grim. He used to be the leader of a pirate fleet up North and supposedly he stole some of the crown jewels and stashed them on some remote island near the coast.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “But you have a map?”

He stopped and stared at her for a good four seconds before answering. “I do.”

“So where is this mystery island?” She turned around and pushed herself up onto the table so she was sitting on the edge.

“Blackburn Island.” His eyes bored into her from where he was standing over by his desk. “The treasure is on Blackburn Island.”

Now both her eyebrows had risen. “Oh.” He turned around and started shuffling through papers on his desk. “I guess we won’t be chasing this mysterious, legendary treasure anytime soon then.”

“Says who?” He said, still occupied with organizing his papers.

She gawked at him. “You don’t seriously expect us to go to Blackburn Island just to search for some treasure that might not even be real.”

“Who knows.” He finished sorting out the papers on his desk and walked back over to table and leaned against it next to her. “We might get bored.”

She chuckled. “Hopefully not bored enough.” She couldn’t imagine going to Blackburn Island, that place was like hell on earth. Their queen- Queen Levana, was a complete psychopath.

She was rumored to have killed both her sister, the late Queen Channary, and her niece. It was said that she ordered a group of raiders to attack their ship while they were on a voyage to the Eastern Kingdom. Though some people had speculated that her niece, Princess Selene Blackburn, had survived the raid and was brought back to the Eastern Kingdom. To be raised to take back her throne and overthrow her tyrant of an aunt.

She didn’t put much stock into the rumors, but she supposed the people of Blackburn Island would take anyone to be their ruler over Levana. If you lived there or were even born there, there was no way of getting out. You were trapped.

“Where did you get the map anyway?” She asked.

“During the heist today, it’s why I chose the location but I didn’t think telling you would make a difference.”

“Ah. So that’s why you were more persistent than usual. I was starting to get suspicious.”

He glanced at her “Suspicious about what?”

“That you were actually starting to take your job seriously.”

He snapped his head away and made a clicking sound with his tongue, feigning offense. “You have no faith in me.”

She chuckled again. “Can you blame me?”

“A little bit, yeah.” He tried his best to sound serious but you could tell by the way his voice wobbled that he was on the brink of laughter.

The room went quiet for a moment as the lighthearted mood died out. She liked laughing with Thorne, she liked their bickering and their teasing and their friendship that she knew would never fade despite all of their differences. She complains a lot about being stuck on a pirate ship in the middle of the sea. But she knew she wasn’t really stuck. Just like she also knew that she was glad it was Thorne who she ended up meeting. That it was his ship she ended up boarding all those months ago. Her smile softened.

“We still have a mission you know, we can’t go off course.”

“I know.” He answered with a sigh.

“But I promise you, one day, we’ll be able to go and search for all the treasure we want. And go on dangerous expeditions and travel across the entire world.”

He laughed, genuinely. But didn’t say anything.

They both stared at the window at the back of the room, mesmerized by the way the water danced with the ship. The way the glass was swathed in the dark blue waves for a moment until the water slid back down the side of the boat and into the deep. Sparing a moment where you could see for miles across the vast ocean, and glimpses of the moon as the ship swayed back and forth in and out of its view.

A moment of silence between comrades. Of mutual content between two people who, against all odds, found each other at the most unpredictable of times. Two friends who don’t have the peace of mind to cherish a moment such as this, but do anyway because it’s moments like these that make all the long days at sea worthwhile.

Thorne sighed, and turned to face her. He wasn’t at the brink of laughter anymore but a small smile still lingered on his features. “You need to sleep. We have to visit the professor tomorrow.”

“I know…sleep always seems to evade me when I really need it.” She hopped off of the table and turned to face him. “But I shall try.” She said, with the determination of someone about to set off on an important quest.

His smile widened. “Hear, hear milady. See to it that you do not trip and fall on the stairs on your way out, and that you knock next time you feel like coming up here to bother me.”

They were both still grinning as she walked around the table back over to the door. “Goodnight Thorne.”

“Goodnight Cinder.” He called after her as she slipped out onto the deck. Salty air swarming her senses. And ducked down through the trapdoor, back into the damp and musty crew quarters.

She wasn’t sure if chatting with Thorne would make sleeping any easier. But she hoped the promise of a new day would, new opportunities. Tomorrow they were going to see Professor Erland, to find out the value of their latest treasures. But that wasn’t the only reason she liked going to meet the professor.

It was because he lived in this fabulous library. With shelves upon shelves of the finest literature the Eastern Kingdom had to offer. And it was also right next to the palace, which was a stunning sight of its own. Despite the cruel king who inhabited it.

Cinder loved to read, ever since her stepfather had taught her as a child. He always made sure to provide her a decent education even though they couldn’t afford to send her to school like her sisters. Once her stepfather, Linh Garan died, her stepmother, had completely neglected Cinder and her education. So Cinder had to start teaching herself.

Professor Erland was always extremely kind to her when they went. He always let her borrow a couple books of her choice, and she was always immensely grateful for his generosity.

He had known her even before she became a fugitive. Her stepfather and the professor used to be good friends. She was never allowed to actually go to the library but Garan always brought back a couple of books for her. She recalled one time when he came to their house, Garan and the professor had to talk about something business related. But he was kind to her then too, telling her that she was always welcome in his library.

When she ran away, he was one of the first people she went to. He had since been her strongest ally.

She heard the creak of floorboards above her as Thorne climbed into his bunk and decided that it was finally time to settle down into hers for the night. She wrapped herself up in the itchy blanket and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before closing her eyes.

Tomorrow would be a good day.

She let herself be excited.

In this moment, she was okay.

In this moment, she was content.

She let the feeling engulf her as her consciousness, slipped silently into the land of dreams.

_______________________________

OMGGGG if you reached the end of that HI, HELLO, TYSM FOR COMING, AND READING, AND I HOPE YOU COME BACK.

k anyways here's the taglist (I'm tagging all of my mutuals):

@gingerale2017 @winterrhayle @starry-tea-party @butterfly-danna @f-r-o-p @im-just-your-problem @a-salting-the-world @cerenoya @novannna @miss-casually-cruel @cindersassasin @cinderswrench @cindersnightmare @sexy-dumpster-fire @razzmooncake

#the lunar chronicles #mine #tlc fanfiction #cinder #carswell thorne #linh cinder

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