BLACKTAN w/ imagination

Heist

A/N: This was originally supposed to be a Yonnie thing, but then I saw Taehyung at the Grammys, and I coudn't help but replace Yoongi with him. The next chapter will be Yonnie, I promise (and it will also be kind of long) which is why I decided to put Chae and not Jennie (which could have been better for the circumstances of the story), but again Jennie is coming up with Yoongi in the next chapters so... Enjoy.

Chaeyoung couldn't remember the last time she'd gone out drinking—it was a waste of time better spent doing research or analyzing clues or even at the gym—but her friends had insisted, saying she was going to work herself to death if she didn't loosen up and live a little. She didn't agree, but Lisa and Jennie were very persuasive and Jisoo had a way of phrasing requests that made one feel guilty for not acquiescing, so in the end she found herself sitting on a barstool and sipping a martini, still thinking about work as her female friends were off in the club somewhere, flirting with men.

She swirled the straw in her drink around, trying not to brood, but it was somewhat difficult. It had been a month ago but the incident still weighed heavily on her mind, crept into her thoughts throughout the day and refused to leave, until she was sure she'd lost hours and hours of sleep interpreting the events in probably every single way possible.

Was there really anything she could have done differently? Was any of it her fault? In the end, it had all played out according to Taehyung's plans, which she'd fallen for like an idiot. He must think so little of her now.

Not that she cared whatsoever what he thought of her.

Then there was that other moment, that one moment the stupid female side of her brain couldn't stop replaying over and over. It was to distract her, she knew that, so he could slip his hand under her coat and unclip her gun from her waist, but no matter how much she tried to forget about it, her mind refused to erase the memory of the hard press of his lips against hers. It had been years since she'd kissed anyone or even dated, and it just figured that the first kiss she'd gotten in ages was from the one man she'd sworn to put in prison.

She swallowed the last mouthful of her drink and set the glass down on the counter, then checked her watch. It wasn't even eleven yet—the night was still young. She glanced over her shoulder but all she saw were strobe lights flashing from the club's dance floor and couples curled in various positions on recliners set out in the lounge area. Her friends were nowhere to be seen.

Chaeyoung sighed and looked up at the bartender, a tattooed man in his mid-thirties with different colored eyes and spiky dark hair. "Another?" she said, gesturing at her empty glass.

He whistled. "Not feeling the buzz yet?"

She smiled at him and shook her head. If there was one thing she could brag about holding over the men on her team, it would be her alcohol tolerance. She could drink them all under the table, even Jennie, who was often seen on particularly stressful nights with a can or bottle within reach.

As the bartender got to work, Chaeyoung reached for her wallet and frowned. She could have sworn she'd put it back in her pocket after paying for her last drink but now the only thing she felt at her fingertips was a bottle of pepper spray—

"Don't bother. I'm paying."

She didn't have to turn around to see who'd spoken. She would recognize that low, smooth voice anywhere. "Taehyung," she said evenly, hands tightening into fists by her sides. "First my gun, now my wallet too?"

He took a seat next to her, sliding onto the barstool much more easily than she had, though he was more or less her size. She didn't look at him but her peripheral vision caught the sunkissed flash of his fingers sliding a crisp twenty-euro note across the counter.