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Jungkook tests the strength of the rope by flexing his wrists. The skin is rubbed raw – but he’s had worse. He spits blood on the floor, right between his feet, and gets a magazine to the head when he doesn’t answer the head honcho immediately.

He’s a real looker. Blonde hair, straight teeth, disgusting personality. He looks like he’s seen some shit. Haven’t they all.

Jungkook lolls his head back in the chair, and looks down through hooded eyes.

“Hit me all you want. I’m not telling you where it is.”

The bald chick with an AK whacks him again with the butt of the gun, and Jungkook jolts in the chair. He runs his tongue over his teeth – fucker, she might’ve loosened one.

“Hey,” the head guy points. “Don’t kill ‘em.”

She huffs, “He asked.”

The leader snaps, and she straightens up again, hands readjusting on the gun. She isn’t even holding it right. That’s more frustrating to watch than this poor excuse of a ‘Bad Guy’. He’s in a pink pincord suit. Like, where are they? Louisiana? 

The man crouches on his heels, eye level to Jungkook. He grins, “That’s alright, you don’t have to tell me, sweetheart. Your friends are gonna’ do all the talking for you.”

Jungkook breathes a laugh, unimpressed.

“You kidnapped the wrong person, buddy. Anyone else, and they might’ve let you fuckers live.”

 The bald chick shoves at the back of his chair with her boot, and he jolts slightly.

They’re in some warehouse. Jungkook doesn’t know where – looks like the boondocks. Or a shipping port. He had a bag over his head for the majority of the car ride, however he managed to break some dude’s leg while blindfolded. He’s a little proud of that.

The situation was out of Jungkook’s hands. He might be a one man army, but not up against, you know, an actual army. This guy obviously has money – there’s tanks, weapons, all being transported by workers, up on shelves, down by lifts. Jungkook could snap the rope, maybe, but he’d get three feet before someone shot him dead.

There’s some kind of makeshift technical setup off to the side. Card tables with equipment worth thousands. People type furiously, like clichés out of a hacker movie.

The blood in Jungkook’s mouth pools more, so he spits again. His eye is swelling shut, but it’s a dull throb, compared to the broken ribs from earlier.

A peon calls, “Sir, there’s movement by the west gate.”

“Good.” Head hancho stands, “They got my message.”

“Wait wait wait,” Jungkook blinks. “Are you an idiot? You wanted them to come?”

“Why else would I kidnap a street rat?” He grins. “I knew you’d never talk. You’re the stubborn one, aren’t ya’?”

Jungkook’s head flops forwards, and his wrists burn against the rope as he cackles.

“Oh my god! Ahaha, you are so dead.”

“Coco, sir,” a woman turns in her chair. “Our security cameras just went black.”

He turns, “Excuse me?”

“We just lost contact to units seven and nine.”

“Sir, we lost power to the left wing.”

“Shit!” He snaps, grabbing a gun from his back pocket, and cocking it. “Get me on mic, now!”

“Woah woah, hold up,” Jungkook squirms. “Did she just call you Coco? Is your name actually Coco?!” Jungkook cranes his head to look back at the bald chick with the AK. “Who are you? Cupcake?”

Coco points the gun, holding some kind of walkie-talkie like microphone. The warehouse sparks with rigged speakers, and his voice bellows out beyond the walls.

“Bangtan!” He yells. All goes quiet. Suddenly the workers from before are gone. He growls, “What about ‘any funny business, and I’ll kill your friend’ did you not understand?”

He points the gun to the ceiling, and fires. Jungkook blinks, but doesn’t flinch. The lights to the warehouse flicker, on and off. Jungkook begins to laugh, ignoring the sharp, stinging pain in his ribs. Baldie kicks him in the side, and Jungkook's laugh breaks into a sob.

“Sir, we’re having an electronic serge.”

“Is it them?”

“Well, it’s not us, sir,” a woman types furiously. 

"Get me in contact with unit's three and four."

"Coms are down, sir."

“I want cameras back up, now.

Coco cocks the gun against the mic, “I’ll give you one more chance, Bangtan. Bring the briefcase to me, and your buddy lives.”

The lights go out.

Jungkook hears the soft sound of a silencer, and ducks immediately. There’s a brief scream – the sound of bullets – and the lights go back on.

The hackers are all on the ground, tranquilizer darts in their neck. Security is dead. Jungkook smiles, licking across his sore bloody lip, and relaxing back against the chair.

Namjoon and Yoongi stand at the entrance, silhouetted by the dark sky behind them, and the warehouse flood lights. They walk at a purposeful pace, guns at their sides. They're so badass it makes Jungkook's heart sing.

The bald chick points her AK at them, “Stop there!”  

Yoongi lifts his pistol, and in one shot, hits her right between the eyes. Jungkook winces, only from the blood that splatters across his cheek. Her body hits the floor, and her gun slides across the room.

Coco cocks his gun, and skitters to hold it against Jungkook’s forehead. The barrel is hot – Jungkook struggles, and Coco curls a hand in the back of his hair, and yanks.

“Don’t move!”

Jungkook finally gets a good look at his hyungs – and holy shit.

“You’re so fucked,” Jungkook whispers.

They’re livid. For Namjoon to even be on site – oh ho. He’s a dead man. But Yoongi too? They’ve both stopped walking, but they’re radiating pure, unparalleled rage. Yoongi’s eyes are black. Jungkook can see the veins in Namjoon’s arms.

A body slinks from behind Yoongi, smiling, “Don’t move?” It’s Hoseok, a big silver briefcase propped on his shoulder. “I thought we were here to make a deal~”

Jin appears as well, spinning a key with one finger, and a knife with another. “Yeah, let’s be civil here.”

A guard, still bleeding on the floor, reaches for his gun. Namjoon shoots him through the nose without looking, unfazed by the blood that skitters across the floor.

Jungkook can feel Coco’s hand shaking, and he worries the bastard might actually pull the trigger. His voice rasps, “That’s before you broke our deal! Move and he dies!”

“We never agreed to no deal,” Hoseok grins. “You took our baby. You think we’d give you whatever the hell is in this case?”

“How you doing, sweetheart?” Seokjin calls.

“Been better.” Jungkook smiles, “I missed you guys.”

 Jungkook is whacked with the gun, hard.

“Shut up!” The leader yells. He yanks on Jungkook's hair, and blood drips down his face. 

Jungkook sputters and sees stars – and he can feel Namjoon’s jaw clench from here.

“See…” Yoongi smiles, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Jungkook hears the bullet before he sees it. He knows that rifle. Knows it like the back of his hand. He has barely enough time to tip his head, before the bullet strikes right through Coco’s hand, and sends his pistol flying across the warehouse. Coco screams, and clutches his palm as it spurts red sludge.

Yoongi pats Hoseok on the shoulder, “Can you get that, hun?”

“On it.”

Coco seethes, crouched, holding his hand, “Are you f-fucking crazy?”

Taehyung stands up from the scaffolding, where he was hidden behind the arm of a forklift. “Hellooooooo!!!” He waves. “If you touch him again, I’m putting a bullet in your other hand.” He cocks his sniper rifle for good measure. 

Hoseok empties out the magazine of Coco’s gun, each bullet clattering to the floor.

“Freaks!” Coco hisses. "I knew you were freaks!" 

"Legends, more like, but I guess we'll take any praise we can get."

Seokjin struts right past him, still spinning his knife. He tosses it up, and catches it, before walking behind the chair and slicing through Jungkook’s restraints.

Jungkook sighs, “Thank you.”

“I was worried about you,” Seokjin frowns. He gently cradles Jungkook’s head, turning to look at the damage. Stress bleeds from Jungkook, as he leans into the safe hold of Seokin's palm. He softly kisses the corner of Jungkook's eye, “You never activate your SOS signal.”

“I was outgunned.”

“Obviously,” Hoseok looks around the warehouse. “Jesus.”

Yoongi begins work at binding Coco, using the rope that Jin previously cut. He struggles, and Yoongi takes great pleasure in kneeing him right in the jaw.

Coco spits at his feet, “You’ll never get anything from me!”

“We don’t need anything from you,” Yoongi tightens the rope, and crushes his shot hand. “Don’t think we’re going to let you live, buddy.”

Jungkook grins, and is helped to his feet by Seokjin, the latter still fussing over his injuries.

Namjoon lifts a hand to his earpiece, “Jimin, you still there?”

The speaker system that was previously tied to Coco’s mic, hisses and sparks once more, Jimin’s sweet voice echoing through the warehouse.

“I’m here, Joonie Hyung.”

Namjoon breathes a laugh, “Good.”

“Jiminie!” Jungkook yells.

“Glad to see you’re okay, baby.”

“Did you get into their system?”

“Duh.” Jimin laughs, the sound of a keyboard clicking distantly, “It was like picking the lock of an open door. Their password was fucking Batman88.”

"Wow, and you call yourselves a black ops market."

Coco snivels, “Impossible!”

Yoongi hits him silent.

“Why did he want the briefcase?” Taehyung calls, sitting now on the scaffolding, loading and unloading his rifle.

“I think I have an idea. Clean up and come home, I got what I need.”

“Kay,” Namjoon cocks his pistol with his thumb. “Wipe their computers. I want everything gone.”

“On it.”

“Alright, we’re done here.” Yoongi circles his finger, “Everyone get in the car.”

“Oh! Can I drive?” Taehyung bounces.

“Absolutely not.”

“So what now?” Coco shivers, panicking. “You’re gonna’ kill me? Just like that?”

The warehouse is dead silent. The computers sparkle and crack, lines of code rolling up the screen as Jimin remotely washes them clean from their headquarters.

Namjoon tips his head, purple hair falling in his eyes. His voice is low, raspy and borderline sexy. It’s a rare tone, one that doesn’t come from their sweet leader too often.

“You hit our baby boy.”

Jungkook turns around just in time to watch Namjoon pull the trigger.

“So, yes.”



Jungkook always liked the low, warm aura of their Oasis. Soft lights glow a rainbow of colors, rooms furnished with fine couches and one-of-a-kind equipment. Their weapons wall glows softly behind them, the fridge humming from the kitchenette.

It’s a hidden location – thanks to Hoseok’s ridiculous inheritance that he could care less about. It’s a lifestyle made possible through work orders and stealing from the shitty 1%. They might be vigilantes. Robinhood, and all that.

They’re at the round table, all in their respective cushioned chairs as Jimin’s face glows from the projecter screen. However, Jungkook kneels, straddling Yoongi’s lap backwards, hands braced on the table. He can feel the pads of Yoongi’s fingers skim up and down his naked torso, thumbing against bandages. His ribs ache dully with each laxidasal kiss Yoongi presses against them. It’s not a bad pain.

Jungkook always liked being the youngest. He always liked being their plaything – theirs to touch and coddle, to undress and kiss, without any type of shame. His group, lovers – they respect him, protect him – the people at this table are his everything. So Jungkook listens, as he sits up in nothing but boxers, and lets slim hands slide up and down his healing body. A few members watch, and their eyes make him stronger.

“I’m tired of being in the dark,” Namjoon says. “The brief case, Jimin.”

“I’m so confused.” Hoseok braces his hand on Seokjin’s thigh. “Why did they need that case so bad? There was nothing in there but a stupid dead phone number. Jimin said the numbers meant nothing.”

“I was wrong,” Jimin sighs, pulling up a file. “They were an X coordinate. It turns out I.K.A.D already had the Y.”

“We took that case off a nobody gang of thieves,” Namjoon frowns.

“Yeah, about that,” Yoongi speaks against Jungkook’s lower back, hands fixed on his hips. “I helped Jimin do some backtracking. Guess who they were delivering it to.”

“If you say I.K.A.D, I’m gonna scream.”

“Scream, honey.”

Goddamnit,” Taehyung presses his head against the table. “The only good thing about this whole shitshow is learning the leader’s name was Coco.”

“So, I’m gonna’ assume you already tracked the coordinate?” Jungkook asks.

Jimin nods, typing in numbers into a satellite tracker. The screen revolves around a fuzzy image of the earth, and narrows in on some remote location in Russia.

“This,” Jimin points, “Is- “

“That’s a castle,” Seokjin cuts off. “That’s a damn castle.”

“A government building?”

“A rebel group headquarters actually, but yes, I guess you could technically call it a castle.” Jimin narrows in on the image. “Some would call them cyber terrorists. They’ve been fucking with the U.S. government for years. I think they have something they shouldn’t.”

Hoseok narrows his eyes, “I don’t like where this is going.”

“I did some research…”

“Give me one guess,” Namjoon lifts a finger. “Launch codes.”

“I have no idea. But whatever it is, I.K.A.D wanted it.”

Taehyung reaches over to skim his fingers up Jungkook’s thigh, and squeeze around his hip.

“Looks like we got a heist, boys.”



There’s no leader like Namjoon. He’s cool headed in emergencies, understanding and soft, but cold blooded when he needs to be. He’s a natural at what he does – their main planner, their head honcho. Their everything.

Jungkook loves attention, but attention from Namjoon makes him feel especially good. They’re curled up in his bed, a large California king that usually fits three to four of them. However, tonight it’s just them.

Calloused hands skim up his side, and around his back. His body is bruised and purple, but it’ll heal.

Namjoon kisses beneath his chin. Behind his ear. A possessive kiss on his throat, before breathing in against his shoulder, and pulling Jungkook closer.

“You’re okay?”

“Yuh huh,” Jungkook mumbles, a hand curling in Namjoon’s hair.

“You were gone for twenty four hours."

“Hoseok was once kidnapped for three days.”

“But he’s Hobi.” Namjoon laughs, “He can Macgyver himself out of anywhere. Not to mention his hand to hand combat skills put the rest of ours to shame.”

Jungkook frowns. There’s something muddy that builds in his chest – a mixture of pride, and the need to prove himself.

“So you don’t trust me.”


“You don’t think I can take care of myself.”

Namjoon huffs, “That’s not it. You’re our golden boy,” he nuzzles into his cheek – so soft, for someone with so much blood on his hands. “I’re still so young.”

“I’m twenty.”

“That’s young, for what we do,” Namjoon sighs. “I know you can dish it out, and I know you can take it – but I just –“ He cuts himself off to gather his thoughts. He sits up slightly, hovers over Jungkook, and looks him in the eye to say, “You’re ours. Nobody can touch you, but us.”

It’s rumbly, and it makes Jungkook shiver. He smiles, and leans up a little to kiss Namjoon. His lips are plush and round, and it makes him feel at home.


The door to Namjoon’s bedroom creaks open, orange light slipping through. It’s Seokjin, beautiful and puffy from sleep.

“Knock knock?” Seokjin smiles.

“Jinnie,” Namjoon gestures. “Come here.”

“Everything alright?”

“Mhmm. I thought you fell asleep on the couch with Taehyung.”

“Yoongi cared him off to bed,” Seokjin crawls in, right behind Jungkook, because he knows Jungkook likes to be in the middle. Seokjin is very cautious as he leans into kiss Jungkook’s hair, “Feeling better, bunny boy?”

Jungkook smiles, “I’ll be fine by next week.”

“Good,” Seokjin smiles, closing his eyes and settling in. “Remember when we went to that club? The one with the old disco ball lights?”

“We stole from that inner circle. The gang running that human-trafficking line inside the strip club.”

“Mhm. That guy groped Hoseok, remember?”

Jungkook smirks, “And Yoongi snapped his fingers, one by one.”

“It was the hottest thing I ever saw,” Seokjin sighs. “That, and the time you suplexed that bodyguard twice your weight. By god, I almost came on the spot.”

Namjoon laughs, reaching over Jungkook to pinch Seokjin’s hip. “Don’t be crude,” he says."But you're totally right."

"So strong," Seokjin yawns, "but we still got your back."

Yes, Jungkook smiles. He knows.



“Toys toys toys~” Taehyung spins, “We get new toys~”

“Only because my instruments don’t work below 0 degrees,” Yoongi bitches, pliers in one hand, and a mess of wires in the other. “Don’t get carried away.”

Heist preperations usually start here, in the garage. They have all kinds of cars, equipment, tools, you name it, they got it.

Taehyung stops, “I can get new guns though, right?”

“Oh, me too,” Jungkook sits up. “I accidentally dented Patty's clip on some guy’s head last week.”

“No,” Jimin and Yoongi say together.


“I’m literally making the equivalent of a handheld EMP.” Yoongi deadpans. “You don’t need a new fucking rifle.”

Taehyung collapses back into one of the garage rolly chairs, and pouts. Jungkook sits on his lap and does the same.

Jimin waves, not looking up from his laptop. He’s programming whatever the hell is in Yoongi’s hand. “Go do target practice, or something.”

“Already did~” Jungkook sings. “Ten for ten headshots.”

“That’s my boy,” Yoongi says.

Taehyung wraps his arms around Jungkook’s waist, still careful of old injuries; he spins them a little, and Jungkook giggles.

“Just one gun?” Taehyung tries. “It can be small. A baby pistol.”

Namjoon sits at the desk across from Yoongi and Jimin, but he shifts, and pulls out his wallet, “No. But…”

Taehyung shoves Jungkook off him, the damn traitor, “But!”

Namjoon pulls out his credit card, “We need new winter clothes. You’re in charge of wardrobe.”

Taehyung gasps, shooting to his feet and skipping to Namjoon, “No way! You’re the best!” He kisses Namjoons face, once, twice, ten times. Namjoon smiles and pushes Tae away, only after properly kissing his lips.

“Don’t spend all of it. We still need money to replace the speed traps on Big Boy.”

He hands the credit card to Taehyung, who smiles and sways on his feet, cooing, “Thank you daddy~”

Namjoon turns back to his desk and replies without skipping a beat.

“You’re welcome.”

There’s something hot about the casualness of that exchange – of how Taehyung bounces up and down on his feet, as Namjoon acts like nothing is array. Jimin’s face is a little pink, and it’s cuter than heck. Sometimes Jungkook hates being so young, only because everything his lovers do is such a turn on.

Seokjin, who was across the garage beneath their armored SUV, rolls out on a creeper.

“Wait, really? We’re fixing Big Boy?”

He has grease stains on his face. He's still gorgeous. 

“I told you I’d pay for it.”

“Oh hell yeah,” Seokjin pats the rim of the car, before wheeling back underneath it. “This guy has saved our lives more times than I can count.”

Jimin nods, “Big Boy deserves it.”

“Can I drive him next time?” Jungkook meanders over.

“If you want,” Seokjin says. “Can you hand me a flathead?”

“Hey,” Taehyung frowns. “You never let me drive Big Boy.”

Jungkook leans down to pass Seokjin the tool. “Because you’re a terrible driver, hyung.”

“No I’m not!”

“You can drive Little Boy.”

“Little Boy is a fucking golf cart.”

“Can you guys shut up for like, two goddamn seconds?” Yoongi breathes. “If I connect the wrong wire here, I could blow every electronic in a two-mile radius.”

“Guys,” Namjoon gestures without looking up. "Please."

Taehyung flips the credit card in his fingers, and slips a possessive arm around Jungkook’s waist.

“Fine. Come on baby, let’s go see if Hobi hyung wants to go shopping with us~”



Jungkook never put much thought into what they are.

Their bonds are stronger than family. They run beyond blood. Rightfully so. They’ve spilled enough blood for each other as it is.

Jungkook will never get tired of walking into the living room of their home, and seeing Jimin snuggled into Hoseok’s side. Sometimes it’s Seokjin braced against the kitchen counter by Yoongi. Sometimes it’s Namjoon. Sometimes it’s both. More often than not, sounds will reverberate under the bathroom door, as Hoseok and Jimin fuck to kingdom come. Jungkook is always welcomed in, and he lives for it.

They’re an evolving relationship. An evermoving one, where any body is a good body, and they use sweet kisses and dirty words to distract from the horrors of the day’s work.

Maybe they’re bad people. Maybe Jungkook doesn’t care.

When they pull off a good heist – and I mean, a good one. Where there’s cash and cash and more cash, he’ll never get tired of the way Jimin strips him naked, and rubs dollar bills up his skin. They laugh, drunk – Taehyung there too, to suck on his fingers and drape Jimin in jewels. Taehyung likes to bite hickies on top of bruises. Likes to tie Jungkook’s wrists in pink chiffon bows, and watch him squirm.

“My pretty boys,” Namjoon will say from the doorway, as they wiggle naked, fucked out on white fur bedspreads, counting dollars by the hundreds. “My pretty, pretty boys,” he’ll say.

It’s a lifestyle.



This, Jungkook thinks, is what they really do best.

They’re in gabardine suits, china silk ties and pearl cufflinks. Seokjin looks the most handsome, hair slicked back, signature smile in place.

They flew all the way here (in Hoseok’s private jet) just for this – some prestigious south state political event, where you have to schmooze your way in just to get an invite. Jimin got them on the A list, easy.

Taehyung is on Jungkook’s left. He looks cute as well, for he’s already winking at old ladies, and adjusting his handkerchief. Security keeps them from tucking guns and knives behind their lapels, but it’s fine. They don’t need them.

Taehyung, Seokjin, and Jungkook are a frequent schmoozer team. Namjoon always sends them to seduce billionaires, and woo their wives. Hoseok sometimes goes with them, but usually he’s with Namjoon, blowing a hole into the underground safe.

Through the teeny tiny earpiece, Jungkook can hear the rest of his team. This time there’s no safe to blow, or money to steal – well, if they can, they’d really like to rip off the guest of honor – some racist politician that’s been causing more heartache than good – but that’s not the point. They need some intel on this Russian mission, before they go in guns blazing, and Yoongi’s sources say there’s a few people here who might know a thing or two about this group they're up against.

Seokjin is already sitting with a table of ladies, winking and talking up a storm. Jungkook lost Taehyung, but he knows he’s probably making friends somewhere, so Jungkook gets to work.

He’s told not to flirt. They want him to act innocent and naive, because, in Jimin’s words, your seductive side is for us, only.

However, Jungkook has been antsy since the kidnapping. He has this feeling like – like they still think he’s a kid. Like they’re underestimating his abilities. They call him the golden maknae, but he wants to prove it.

“Oh!” Jungkook bumps into a man, mid-thirties, in a dobby suit. “I’m so sorry sir.”

“That’s quite alright,” he smiles, with a thick American accent. He looks like a country singer.

“Hey,” Jungkook sways, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“You know... I was just about to say the same thing,” he nods. “What’s your name?”

“Kim,” he says. “Justin Kim. And you?”

“Alexander,” he shakes Jungkook’s hand. “Pleasure to meet ya’. How long have you been campaigning for Williams?”

“About six months,” Jungkook bats his pretty eyelashes. “I’ve only recently fallen into the political scene. What about you?”

“A year and a half. It’s strange that we’ve never run into each other,” Alexander says, and he’s maybe handsome, if Jungkook was into that pretty boy quarterback look.

“Ah, it is quite strange.” Jungkook smiles, “I’d definitely remember a face like yours.”

Interest shines in the man’ eyes. He slips a hand along Jungkook’s lower back, “How about we take a seat? I can grab you a drink, if you’d like.”

“I’d love that.”

“Kookie,”  Yoongi hisses through his earpiece. “What are you doing?”

Alexander pulls out a chair, and Jungkook takes the seat with a thank you. He wanders off towards the bar, and Jungkook dabs the corner of his mouth with a napkin to hide his moving lips.

“I’m working.”

“McClain wasn’t your client, he was Jin’s. You’re supposed to be wooing the old women. Margaret and Choi are on your intel list.”

“Hyung got held up with some girls.”

“I see that. Get away from this man, and go back to your mission immediately.”

“I can take care of myself,” Jungkook barely manages to say, before Alexander is back, and Jungkook is taking the red wine with a thank you. He can hear Jimin bitching in his ear, but he tunes it out.

Jungkook thinks he’s doing pretty well, if you ask him. They’re flirting like kids – playing with each other’s fingers beneath the table, talking about family and where they grew up. Jungkook pulls out a bunch of bullshit about growing up in Maryland.

He’s careful when steering the conversation, true to his training. The politician up stage gives a short speech – and they go back to talking.

“I think he’s perfect for the job,” Jungkook nods. “A perfect senator.”

Alexander laughs, “No such thing exists, but I agree. He’s the most fit for it.”

Jungkook sighs, leaning his head in his hand. “I sure do hope he stays true to his word. I know some politicians campaign one thing, and once they win, they do another.”

“You’re correct. I don’t think he will, though.”

“I’m especially worried about national security,” Jungkook pouts. “This country’s safety should be a priority.”

He worries he might be fishing too much here – but Alexander nods seriously, placing a hand on Jungkook’s inner thigh. Jungkook can hear Jimin bristle in his ear piece.

“I agree. However, I think you’re too young to be worrying ‘bout something like that.”

“Is it wrong?” Jungkook turns, opening his big doe eyes. He fights the urge to grin – he’s got this guy around his finger. “I’ve heard there’s a whole new type of terrorism. Where it happens online.”

“Cyber terrorists.” Alexander nods. “The pentagon has been scrambling to find new ways to encrypt and protect our secrets.”

“Secrets,” Jungkook gasps. “Like what?”

Alexander grins, and squeezes his thigh, “I can’t tell you that.”

“Do you work for the government?”

“I guess.”

“Oh,” Jungkook pouts. “Well, I understand. I sure hope there’s none here.” He leans closer, and Alexander lets him. “You’ll protect us too, right?”

“O-of course. We, we’re doing everything we can.”

“Like what?”

“Well, we haven’t been able to do much since they stole-“ he bites off. “Well. We’ve got it under control.”



 “What do you say we get out of here?” Alexander smiles.

“I’d love to,” Jungkook flirts. He takes Alexander’s arm, and is lead towards the back door.

“Jungkook! Do NOT-“

He ignores Yoongi’s demands, and leans into Alexander's side. He’s too close to finding out something good – maybe if he can get Alex alone-

Namjoon must’ve grabbed the mic out of Yoongi’s hands, because he bellows loud in his ear, “Tae, Seokjin, abort mission. Intersect Jungkook NOW.”

“No!” Jungkook hisses.

“What was that?” Alexander turns.

“Oh! Nothing, sorry,” Jungkook smiles, “I almost tripped.”

“Don’t worry,” he squeezes Jungkook’s arm a little too strongly, “I’ve got you.”

“Justin!” Seokjin smiles, suddenly appearing out of thin air, “I’ve been looking for you, sweetheart!”

“S-“ Jungkook bites, “Jin.”

The look Seokjin is giving him lets him know he's in trouble. Jungkook is boiling.

“Are you friends?” Alexander smiles.

“I’m his ride. We really need to go,” Seokjin pulls his hand off of Alexander. “Sorry to interrupt! I hope you’ll forgive me, dear.”

“Jinnie! Justin!” Taehyung appears, flinging his hands and making a scene. “We gotta’ go now. I’m so, so late for my flight, it’s all your fault,” Taehyung points at Seokjin. He’s so good at lying, and it pisses Jungkook off.

“My fault?” Seokjin scoffs, “Justin has been off playing all evening-“ he grips Jungkooks arm and pulls, “-come on, we have to leave.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook waves, grinding his teeth.

“No worries,” he smiles, but it looks fake. “Hopefully we can see each other at the next rally.”

“Hopefully,” Jungkook lies. He’ll never see him again.



It’s a quiet ride up the elevator. 

Seokjin opens the door of Namjoon's hotel room door, and Jungkook sighs before stepping through. As soon as his right foot is through the doorway, he’s gripped by the collar, and thrown up against the wall.

His body tenses, ready to fight, but it’s Jimin, staring up at him with furious intensity. Jungkook balls his fists in Jimin’s shirt, ready to shove if he needs to, but Jimin tips his head up and kisses him, hot and possessive and dirty. Jungkook isn't sure what to do, so he kisses back, knowing better than to fight the tongue that angrily shoves into his mouth. Jimin slams him harder against the wall – the door shuts – and Jungkook might’ve whined, just a little.

Jimin pulls back, and barks in his face, “What the hell was that?!”

Jungkook licks the spit off his lips, “I was doin’ my job.”

“No, you weren’t.” Yoongi crosses his arms, from where he sits on the bed. All of Bangtan is here – which means this is family meeting. Not good. “You had strict orders to stay with your hit list.”

“I almost had him!” Jungkook tries to push Jimin away without hurting him. “He was eating out of the palm of my hand!”

“If you did the reading – “ Jimin pushes back, and Jungkook’s head slams against the wall, “- then you’d know he has multiple rape allegations against him.”

“Jimin,” Seokjin barks, but Jimin doesn’t back off.

Hoseok steps in, saying, “Enough.” He pulls until Jimin is against his arm, and sitting on the other queen bed with him. Taehyung is sitting on the floor, hands around his knees, because Taehyung hates it when they fight. Jungkook knows this, but his heart is already in his throat, and he needs them to know that he’s not made of glass.

Jungkook doesn’t move from the wall. Namjoon is sitting on the couch, staring at him.

He huffs, “You think I didn’t know that? I can handle my fucking self, thanks. You don’t think I can snap his neck six ways to Tuesday?”

“But you would have.” Namjoon stands, and suddenly the room turns so much colder. “He would’ve pulled something on you, and you would have killed him. End of story.”

“Our cover would be blown,” Yoongi says. “You can’t kill someone well known like that and get away scotch free. We’d never be able to come back to the states again.”

Jungkook sags against the wall, and looks down between his shoes. His voice quiets. 

“…I wouldn’t have killed him.”

“How about this, then?” Namjoon steps closer, and suddenly he’s in Jungkook’s face. “I don’t want anyone else touching you.”

“Because I’m your baby?” Jungkook spits, and he doesn’t mean it, because he loves it, he loves being theirs. No, no-

“Because we love you,” Namjoon growls back, and Jungkook suddenly wants to cry. He blinks back tears. 

“It’s…probably our fault too,” Seokjin says, slowly. “We need to give you more credit. You’re not that fourteen year old kid anymore.”

Hoseok whispers fondly. “All grown up.”

“I’m sorry I disobeyed you,” Jungkook’s voice cracks, as he looks at Namjoon. “Are you going to punish me?”

The hard look in Namjoon’s eyes ebbs away, and he slides closer, soft hands smoothing around until they lock behind his back.

“No, baby. We don’t do punishments here,” he kisses Jungkook, and Jungkook falls into it, arms coming up to curl behind Namjoon’s head. He can practically feel the unanimous sigh of relief from Bangtan– because a kiss from the leader, means all is forgiven.

“Ahh, jeez,” Hoseok flops back. “Ya’ll stress me out too much.”

“We still got a lot of good information,” Yoongi says, propping the laptop back up. “Hyung got that old lady to spill buckets about how the organization is taking government secrets and holding them hostage.”

Jungkook breaks the kiss to say, “Oh. No kidding?”

“Nope,” Namjoon says, and pulls away, manhandling Jungkook until he’s in Jimin’s arms. “Here, do with him what you wish.”

Koookieeee,” Jimin cries, wrapping his limbs around him and trapping him against the bed. “I’m so soorrryyyy-“

Jungkook laughs, giggling and squirming when Jimin noses and whines into his throat.

He rides Jimin like a champ that night.