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Chapter Text

[Contact Name in Jungkook's phone: Yonsei Crush]

Hi, this is Jungkook from SNU, hope you remember me.

+82 2777 5624

Excuse me? Who gave you this number?

I’m the guy who fainted during the match.

I heard what you did for me, but I never got a chance to properly thank you.

Fainted? That’s cute.

Usually when people collapse in front of me, they don’t get back up. 

So tell me, who gave you my number?

{sends a selca}

Don’t you remember me?

Oh. 

Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing.

It was almost 10:30 p.m. when Jimin trudged home, exhausted from his shift. As he climbed the stairs to their shared apartment, he suddenly remembered the little prank he’d pulled on his roommate earlier.  

Oh.

By now, Jungkook must’ve realized the number he gave out wasn’t actually Mingyu’s. Or maybe.... since he’d been radio silent all day, he hadn’t even tried texting it yet. Ah, that would be even better. Jimin grinned at the thought, already imagining Jungkook desperately trying to message his crush, frowning at his phone like it was the ultimate villain sabotaging his love story. If only he could’ve stayed to witness it, the frustration, the way Jungkook would’ve stared at the screen, waiting for a reply that would never come. Jimin would’ve been on the floor laughing. Too bad he had to cover Jungkook’s shift at the café instead; the kid had been sick the past few days.

But then, a thought stopped him in his tracks. What if that number belonged to someone? What if they actually replied? No way, Jimin shook his head, discarding that thought because if that had happened, Jungkook would have already called him, a string of curses ready on the tip of his tongue and a threat to murder him in his sleep. Still, Jimin pulled his backpack to the front like a makeshift shield. If that muscle bunny was pissed enough to throw hands, at least he'd have some sort of protection. Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door to their dingy apartment, only to freeze at the sight before him.

Jungkook was sprawled out on their beat-up sofa (which doubled as his bed), his face buried in a pillow, kicking his feet. And was that… a squeal?! Jimin blinked. “Uh… Jungkook?” he asked, brows drawn together in pure confusion. What the hell happened while he was gone?

At that, Jungkook perked up. “Jiminaaahh” he squealed, practically launching himself at the blonde and lifting him off the ground in one swift motion. “He thinks I’m pretty!” he giggled, spinning them both slightly before finally setting Jimin down.

“Hold on—who exactly are we talking about?” Jimin was beyond confused now.

“Mingyu!” Jungkook grinned, practically vibrating with excitement. If he had a tail, it would be wagging at full speed right now. Still buzzing with excitement that weighed down on Jimin like a massive rock of regrets, the younger grabbed his phone and held it out for him to see.

“I spent, like, two hours just staring at the call button, wondering if it'll be okay to call him. Then I decided it would be much better to text instead,” he explained. Jimin quickly took the phone, skimming through the chat. As he read, a frown slowly crept onto his face.

"What does he mean by this?" He asked, pointing at one of the messages that felt sus.

Fainted? That’s cute.

Usually when people collapse in front of me, they don’t get back up. 

So tell me, who gave you my number?

"Don't you think this is a little weird?" As much as he knew the number was fake, he didn't have the heart to tell it to Jungkook, especially not now, when the younger was practically jumping like a happy little puppy. His best friend had a tendency to build walls around him, rightfully so, as Jimin had never met anyone as kind as him, and people tend to take advantage of that.

Jungkook, oblivious to his internal turmoil, scratched the back of his neck, suddenly shy, "Uh, I don't know? Maybe he was just trynna act cool or something?" Instead, he pointed at the next message, "I still can't believe he called me pretty."

"Anyone with eyes would agree that you're beautiful, Jungkook-ah." Jimin smiled awkwardly as he moved two paces back. This can't go on, the messages looked suspicious, and he didn't want this silly little prank to turn into some creepy, unwanted situation that might land them in trouble. "Ok, I, um, hate to break your bubble, but that's a fake number Gguk."

He held his hands up in surrender, watching with growing guilt as the huge smile faded from Jungkook's face, and boy, did he regret this prank. "April fool's.... remember? He tried weakly. At that, Jungkook's eyes went impossibly wide.

"W-what?" He scrambled for his phone, then, "wait - WAIT- Does that mean I sent a picture to a complete stranger???" He roughly shoved Jimin back on the sofa, "You little shit, what do I do now!??"

"Just tell the truth and block him," Jimin suggested as he pulled Jungkook down next to him.

Jungkook clutched his hair, "This ain't a harmless prank, Jimin, I'm gonna make you pay for sure," letting out a scream of frustration as he sent an apology. But before he could even sigh in relief, his phone dinged with another message.

"Private number? What does he mean?" Jungkook turned to him, "What the fuck, Jimin?"

As scary as that reply was, Jimin tried to stay calm, "They're probably trying to mess with you. Just apologize and block." Now, he was nervous too as he watched Jungkook quickly type out another response.

This time, too, the reply was instant as if the stranger had been waiting on the other end. But when Jungkook saw the next messages, his stomach dropped and a chill ran down his spine. Meanwhile, Jimin peeked over his shoulder to read.

Jimin, although equally freaked out, was doing his best to stay calm and quickly snatched the phone from his hands. "Yeah, that's it. We're not dealing with this shit." Without hesitation, he blocked the number and tossed the phone behind them.

"What the hell do we do now?" Jungkook's voice was borderline frantic.

"Oh, come on, Gguk, chill." Jimin tried his best to sound nonchalant, "It's probably just some wannabe tough guy or a drunk dude messing with you," But Jungkook didn’t look convinced. His eyes were glazed over, clearly spiraling through every possible worst-case scenario. "Do you really think someone's gonna be that bothered over a wrong text? People have wayyyyy bigger problems to deal with. Sleep on it."

Jungkook, still tense, narrowed his eyes. Then, before Jimin could react, he lunged, tackling the screaming blonde straight on the hard floor. "YOU almost got me into serious trouble, you freaakin Slytherin!" Jungkook huffed, now sitting on Jimin's back, holding his arms behind in a lock.

Jimin squirmed under his weight, "Oh, come on! No blood, no foul - OW." He yelped again as Jungkook twisted his arm harder. "Okay, fine. I messed up. This week's meals are on me, I promise!"

Jungkook didn't budge, though, causing the latter to groan, "Dude, I covered your shifts for two days straight. You should be grateful, you little brat."

Jungkook scoffed, finally letting go, though the deep frown on his face made it clear he wasn't letting this slide easily.

"Alright, Moody, cheer up!" Jimin stretched before fetching two bottles of soju and waving them in his face, "We're getting paid tomorrow, so let's celebrate."

Jungkook grumbled but grabbed the bottle anyway, "You're still paying for the meals."

Jimin just smirked, "Yeah, yeah. Drink up!"

Little did they know, blocking that number wasn't going to be the end of it.

-----------------------------------------

Far away across the city, in one of Seoul's tallest skyscrapers, Kim Taehyung scoffed at the new notification.

The user has blocked you.

The audacity. Seated comfortably in his leather chair, he leaned back, fingers tightening around his phone. Whether this was some shitty prank or something more, he HAD to find out. No one, absolutely NO ONE outside his inner circle had this number. He stared at the texts. A mistake? Maybe. But the kid had made a bigger mistake by thinking he could just block the Kim heir.

Even though the photo had been deleted, it burned in his mind. The long, messy hair, those pretty eyes, soft yet striking features, and the fact that the boy had been lying on a bed with that damn lip piercing. Taehyung couldn’t shake the image of how soft yet sinfully sexy he looked. He wondered how that piercing would feel in his mouth... or wrapped around his...

“Ugh.” He sat up straighter, dragging a hand over his face as the heat shot through him, his pants now becoming uncomfortably snug. He clicked his tongue. Yeah, it had clearly been way too long since he’d gotten laid. A knock on the door snapped him out of his increasingly spicy thoughts.

Min Yoongi stepped in, eyes a little sleepy, "Something's up?" Taehyung simply handed him the phone, watching Yoongi's brows lift as he read the texts.

"Is he an actual threat or just an idiot who got the wrong number?" Yoongi asked in that slight Daegu accent.

"That's what we need to figure out,"

Yoongi smirked as he saw the part where a picture had been deleted. 

"Uh-huh. And by 'figure out' do you plan to scare the shit out of him or am I bringing you another fcktoy?"

Taehyung snatched his phone back, thinking. He could let it go, forget the whole fiasco, but where was the fun in that? His lips curled, "I wanna know everything about him, who he is, where he lives, his schedule, who he spends his time with." Locking eyes with Yoongi now, "I wanna know what kind of trouble just landed in my lap."

"Kid's ballsy, I'll give him that." Yoongi shook his head, chuckling slightly, "And of course, you're not letting this go easily," he snorted before walking out the door.

There was no such thing as coincidence in Kim Taehyung's world, not when he was slowly purging their gang. He walked towards the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the city sprawling beneath him as he lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply. "I'm gonna find you darling," he murmured under his breath.

"Soon"

Chapter Text

A week later. 

Jeon Jungkook, 21.

- Pursuing a business degree at SNU.

- Born in Busan, the family consists of a mother and a younger brother.

- Works part-time at Gaeng Cafe, Monday through Friday, 6 pm to 10.30 pm.

- shares an apartment in Namhyeon with Park Jimin.

- Plays in the SNU football team.

- Occasionally takes photographs for the University. 

- Takes painting classes for children on weekends at Hopeworld studio.

Taehyung’s brows pulled together as he scanned the report again, eyes narrowing at the string of rather unremarkable facts. Student. Works part-time at a café. Lives with his mother and younger brother. Nothing suspicious or unusual. For a few brief moments, he’d actually been on edge, thinking someone had dared to text his most private number. The one only a handful of people had access to. So he’d asked Yoongi-hyung to dig into it, to get him everything on the boy in the photo. He couldn't afford to take chances.

Maybe it was a trap. Maybe someone had figured out his tendency to go for pretty faces, man or woman. Was this some kind of bait?

"No shady business? Nothing at all?" he asked finally, his voice low but laced with suspicion.

"Kid's clean, Taehyung-ah," Yoongi informed, casually perched on the table, "I tailed him all day. No records, no rumours, doesn't party, doesn't even jaywalk. Goes to Uni, works, and then he's straight back home."

Taehyung's eyes lingered on the pictures Yoongi had gotten. He looked..... ordinary. Too ordinary. Messy-haired college boy who probably survived on instant ramyeon and 3 hrs of sleep, making decisions on a whim, running behind a degree that wouldn't even matter in a few years. Then there was the way he was dressed in baggy layers that swallowed him up, as if he were trying to disappear into the fabric.

Yet the tattoos peeked from under his sleeves like secrets, and those piercings that had to be against campus regulations - told another story. A contradiction. Like he wanted to hide but still be seen somehow, he looked like someone pretending to be tougher than he was. And for some reason, it intrigued Taehyung even more.

"You done staring? Or should I get you a frame?" Namjoon tsked from where he was sprawled across the couch. "We’ve got debts to collect and old bones to break. Priorities, cousin."

"And a serious case of thirst, apparently," Seokjin chimed in. "You need to get laid. It’s crazy how obsessed you’ve become over a few texts."

Seokjin-hyung wasn’t wrong. Taehyung really did need to get laid. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had any real action. The last woman, an up-and-coming idol he was considering sponsoring, had turned out to be too curious, too interested in where he went, what he did, and who he met. He’d shut her down fast, and with it, her career. It was only later that he found out she’d been planted by her agency, deliberately sent to cozy up to him.

They still called him young, a rookie in some ways, but he was still a Kim. A name that opened doors, helped settle scores, and reminded people not to cross lines. Taehyung had always known people wanted a piece of him for influence, protection, or leverage. Everyone had an agenda.

So this… these texts… this college student, Jeon Jungkook - whatever it was - Taehyung just needed to be sure. Was it truly a coincidence? Or some calculated attempt to get close to him? But the file in front of him was plain. Simple, even. There was nothing suspicious, nothing that hinted at a trap. In fact, it seemed more and more like an honest mistake. The boy had blocked him afterward, and nothing in their brief conversation suggested he knew who he was texting. And if it had been a setup, why block him at all?

Still, that wasn’t all that kept Taehyung intrigued. The boy was… striking. There was something quietly captivating about him - the kind of pretty that made your eyes linger without meaning to. Not quite delicate, not outright bold, but a mix of both. A contradiction that tugged at something in him. Taehyung couldn’t help but want to know if he really looked like that in person.

So, ignoring the others, he glanced down at his watch instead. “His shift at the café starts soon,” he said, already rising to his feet. Then he turned to Yoongi with a slight nod. “I need to see him in the flesh.”

Seokjin groaned from the couch. “I swear to God, Taehyung-”

But Taehyung was already on his way out. Thirty minutes later, he sat parked in the backseat of a blacked-out SUV, right across from an old, worn-out apartment building in Namhyeon. His foot tapped restlessly against the floor mat as he watched the entrance. Then, right on cue at 5:30, the gate creaked open. A figure stepped out, dressed head to toe in black, a cap pulled low, bag slung carelessly over his shoulder. It had to be him, but he seemed to be in a hurry as he sprinted down the street. Yoongi glanced at Taheyung once, shaking his head in disapproval as the latter nudged him to follow the boy. It took about fifteen minutes of tailing him through clustered streets before they reached the café - a cozy little spot with fairy lights strung across the entrance.

Jungkook had sprinted the entire way, and Taehyung stared, slightly impressed. “Kid’s got stamina.”

“If you’re planning to sit here till his shift ends, I’m gonna go ahead and take a nap,” Yoongi muttered, already leaning down to adjust his seat so he could relax. 

“Nah,” Taehyung waved him off, eyes glued to the windows of the cafe. “We’ve got to deal with Choi tonight. I just want to see him clearly once.” A few minutes passed. Then, Jungkook appeared with his sleeves rolled up and an apron tied to his waist. 

Taehyung blinked. Pictures didn’t do him justice. He was… pretty. Stupidly pretty. The kind of pretty that made you stare too long and forget what you were supposed to be doing. His features were soft yet striking, with big eyes, a sharp jaw, pouty lips, and a silver lip ring that caught the golden café lights every time he smiled. And damn, was that a dimple? Taehyung watched silently as Jungkook wiped down tables and smiled at customers as they entered. Then he disappeared for a moment, only to return seconds later, tying his hair into a loose bun as he stepped behind the counter. And Taehyung had the strongest urge to run a hand through those long strands.

Yoongi gave him a pointed look. “You done creeping?” 

Taehyung had planned to let it go. Really, he had. He simply wanted to satisfy his curiosity, get a look at the boy, and move on with his life, which was, in all fairness, a very crazy life filled with blood-stained deals and a pile of bodies to hide. And yet, here he was, watching a college kid wipe tables like it mattered. There was something about him. The ink crawling up his arms, the focus with which he worked, he delicate way his lashes fanned out when he looked down. And damn, the boy had sprinted for a mile and didn’t look like he’d even broken a sweat. Taehyung wanted to know everything: what those tattoos meant, how those eyes could look so soft and so guarded, what kind of life he lived, and how he was as a person...

And yet, "Let's go," he told Yoongi after a moment, leaning back in his seat. Yoongi didn’t question it; he just pulled away from the curb and merged into the slow-moving traffic. Taehyung was quiet for a bit, fingers tapping against his thigh, contemplating for a while.

Then he pulled out a different phone, one that had his regular number, and quickly typed out a text. With one tap, he hit send, let the panic begin.

-------------------------------------

Jungkook read the message once. Then again. His brain short-circuited. He peeked out toward the street, eyes scanning the road, the sidewalk, the café windows. Was someone watching him? He stepped back, nearly tripping, and slipped into the washroom, slamming the door behind him as if that would protect his soul. He dialed Jimin, but the call was cut.

"OH MY GOD JIMIN," he whisper-screamed, frantically opening their chat.

Jungkook finished his shift in a constant panic, glancing over his shoulder and scanning the streets through the café’s glass walls. At one point, he even borrowed a black mask from the staff drawer, tugging it on like it might somehow make him invisible. As per Jimin’s advice, he pretended he hadn’t seen the text, except that was the only thing he could think about. The more he tried to forget it, the more it looped in his brain, and he found himself taking deep breaths to calm down his racing heart. Someone had been watching him. Someone knew where he worked. What if they knew where he lived, too? By the time his shift ended, his nerves were fried, and he felt like prey.

Jimin and Hobi showed up right on time, chaotic as ever - Hobi wielding a bottle of hot sauce like a weapon, and Jimin gripping a bunch of chopsticks like makeshift daggers.

“Which mental hospital did you two escape from?” Jungkook hissed as they ducked into the back alley, just to avoid being seen near the café entrance.

“This can be deadly, Ggukie," Hobi replied, making a practice of whipping it out like a sword. “Straight into the eyes, and it will burn like hell.” 

After Jungkook quickly filled them in about the stranger and his hunch about how they might somehow know his apartment address, the trio made their way to Hopeworld Studio, Hobi’s dance space a few blocks away. They picked up convenience store food and snacks for dinner on the way. The studio also doubled as the place where Jungkook took painting classes for kids, and Hobi lived in the cozy loft upstairs. For tonight, he’d offered it up as a safe hideout.

Now, huddled on the couch with Jungkook’s phone glowing between them, the tension had settled in.

“How the hell did they find out where you work?” Jimin asked, brows drawn tight.

“Okay, wait, before you both spiral into full panic mode, hear me out.” Hobi raised a finger, glancing between them. “I read that whole conversation, right? What if it’s someone from your uni? Like, a classmate with a crush? Or some weirdo playing a prank?”

“Actually… yeah, that could be it,” Jimin said, nodding slowly. “You’re on the SNU football team, Gguk. Some creep might’ve spotted you on campus and decided to shoot their shot.”

“What should I do now, though?” Jungkook groaned, slouching lower into the couch. “Whatever this is, it’s getting seriously creepy.”

"Threaten him," Hobi said, scooting closer now. "Say you'll go to the police. Maybe that will scare him off."

Jungkook let out a deep breath, "Okay, let's try that."

"You know, that emoji was kinda unnecessary," Jimin chuckled, earning a sharp glare from Jungkook. How could he be so unserious right now?

"You're supposed to be threatening him, remember?" Hobi added with a teasing smirk.

Before Jungkook could snap back, his phone vibrated with a new message. That was fast, he thought, too fast. But when he read the reply, all three of them froze, jaws going slack.

[A.N: It's supposed to be 'broke' in the image, pls ignore]

"Umm, dude's scary, but I think he's whipped." Jimin smiled awkwardly, causing Jungkook to groan in frustration.

"Are you on my side or his?" But then, his attention went back to the phone buzzing in his hand. 

"Did that guy just wink at you?" Jimin was practically in Jungkook’s lap, craning over to read the texts.

"'Fate,' he says." Jungkook scoffed, shoving Jimin off the couch hard enough for him to hit the floor with a thud. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT."

If Jimin hadn’t pulled that stupid prank, Jungkook wouldn’t be stuck hiding at work, holed up miles from their apartment, freaking out in Hobi’s studio like some cornered animal, with an actual stalker on his tail.

"Yah! I didn’t know it was a real number!" Jimin raised his hands in surrender, wide-eyed and sheepish.

Meanwhile, Hobi, who had taken Jungkook’s phone to scroll through the messages, handed it back with an almost too-casual grin. “What are you gonna reply now?”

"This is entertaining to you? He’s a crazy stalker, for fuck’s sake!" Jungkook snapped, just before angrily typing out another reply.

“You did not just call him an ajhushii... pftt-” Hobi wheezed, doubling over with laughter, nearly dropping the bottle of soda he was holding while Jimin was clutching his stomach on the floor, snorting like it was the funniest thing he'd heard all year.

Jungkook groaned, dragging a hand down his face in utter disbelief. Why. Why did I think befriending these two menaces was a good life decision? They were unhinged, utterly and hopelessly so. Not a single working brain cell between them.

“This is serious!” he snapped, pointing at his phone like it held a ticking time bomb. “I might be getting stalked by some creep who knows where I work, and you two are acting like it’s open mic night at a comedy club.”

But that only made them laugh harder. Jungkook sighed, flopping back on the couch. Maybe he was doomed.

The stranger had a point there. Jungkook had been continuously texting him when he should have just blocked the number like he did before. As creepy as the guy was, the unhinged flirting and the dinner invite were getting out of hand now. So he sent the last text and was about to block the number when the next texts made his brain short-circuit yet again.

Jimin screeched and nearly fell off the bean bag. “Okay, but why is this kinda hot?!?”

“Hot??” Jungkook blinked at him, shell-shocked. “He threatened to show up at my door! That’s textbook stalker behavior!”

Hobi, eyes wide, slowly leaned in to read the texts again. “Wait… is he flirting or threatening murder? Because honestly, I can’t tell.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Jungkook groaned, letting his head fall back against the cushions with a thud, eyes squeezed shut like he could block the chaos out.

Jimin snatched Jungkook’s phone with zero hesitation, scrolling with an expression far too interested for comfort. “But a voice I wouldn’t mind hearing over dinner? He’s crazy, but he got the rizzz.”

Hobi leaned over Jimin’s shoulder, nodding slowly like he was evaluating art. “Not gonna lie, he’s kinda scary, but that was smooth.”

Jungkook dragged a hand down his face, the panic slowly morphing into tired disbelief. “This is how people end up as cases on true crime shows. They’ll find my phone in a gutter and my mom crying on the news.”

Jimin raised a brow, twirling the phone in his hand like it was a shiny new toy. “But what if he’s just a hottie with a few loose screws?”

“I DON’T CAREEE,” Jungkook yelled, arms flailing so hard the pillow he was holding hit the coffee table. “Look, I’m a broke student with debts to pay and a family to take care of. I don’t need some deranged man flirting with me and creating more problems in my life.”

Jimin leaned forward, completely unbothered. “If I were you, I’d go. Just to see what he looks like. Who he is. Maybe take a sneaky pic for us.”

Jungkook let out a loud groan and collapsed flat on the couch, throwing the pillow over his face. He was doomed. Completely, utterly doomed, and worse, he had these two as his emotional support clowns. He hated how Jimin's words cut through his spiraling thoughts and planted something else in their place - curiosity. And he hated it even more that a small, awful part of him was curious too. He wasn’t used to this, being noticed, being wanted. For the longest time, Jungkook had lived like he was stuck on autopilot: class, part-time jobs, responsibilities, repeat. No parties, no dating. Nothing that didn’t fit into the life he’d been forced to rebuild from scratch after his dad passed away.

So yeah... getting weird, borderline obsessive messages from a stranger should’ve freaked him out, and it did. But it also... felt weirdly thrilling. And that? That was something he wasn’t ready to admit out loud, not to his chaotic friends, and definitely not to himself.

Jungkook was still tangled in that messy thought spiral when his phone buzzed again.

Jungkook sat up slowly, reading the message three times. “Guys, he just sent an address,” he muttered, staring in disbelief.

Jimin, now peeking over his shoulder, let out a low whistle. "Bro, that place will cost more than our monthly groceries.”

“I know,” Jungkook said blankly, already pulling up the map and reviews. The restaurant was real. Very real. Very expensive. Very fancy. And it was public. Which meant… less chance of being murdered?

“I’m not saying you should go,” Hobi said carefully, “but if you do, go early, sit near the door, and keep your phone in hand.”

"And bring us some leftovers if you can," Jimin added, making Jungkook glare at him.

He didn’t reply immediately. He just stared at the screen, heart thudding loud enough to echo in his ribs. Was this really happening? Why was a stranger - possibly deranged, possibly dangerous, so fixated on him? And why was he even considering it? He didn't text back right away, mostly because he didn't know how to respond. Or if he should. But before he could spiral again, another message came in.

Jungkook's thumb hovered; he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and finally sent a simple "okay". Somehow, it felt like signing a contract with a devil. Almost immediately, the next message popped up.

Jimin peeked over his shoulder. “He really said don’t get kidnapped like he’s not the main suspect.”

Jungkook sighed, locking his phone. “Why did I even say yes to this?” He sank back into the couch, eyes on the ceiling, stomach twisting with nerves. Maybe it was the curiosity, maybe it was the way no one had ever looked at him, or spoken to him like that. Or maybe he just wanted answers. Whatever it was, it had him walking straight into dinner with a stranger who might just ruin his life. And the worst part? A tiny, reckless part of him kind of wanted to see what would happen next.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Somewhere in the middle of Gangnam-gu, a sleek black SUV with heavily tinted windows sat idling along the side of the main road with Kim Taehyung seated comfortably inside.

Meanwhile, Yoongi stood outside on the sidewalk, barely holding it together, “Kid called him ahjussi,” he deadpanned.

On the other end of the line, Seokjin burst into uncontrollable laughter so loud that a couple of pedestrians glanced their way. "No, I swear,” Yoongi added, glancing back at the car again. “You should’ve seen his face, hyung. I think he aged five years on the spot.”

Seokjin's cackling only got louder. "Oh, get me the papers, I'm ready to adopt that kid."

Chapter Text

Jungkook peeled off the multicolor sweater and baggy jeans with sparkly butterfly patches, another one of Jimin’s experiments, borrowed straight from Hobi’s vibrant closet. “I think we should go home so I can just wear something normal from my closet,” he muttered.

“By which you mean everything black with occasional sad blues,” Jimin replied, scrunching his nose in pure judgment.

“Oh, for fucks sake, Jimin! This isn’t a date, it’s a dinner I’m being blackmailed into,” Jungkook shot back, now standing in just his briefs. “Which, by the way, wouldn’t even be happening if someone didn’t fake a number for a stupid prank.”

Jimin held up his hands in innocence. “Okay, but technically you’re the one who thirst-texted a stranger.”

"Because you told me it's Mingyu's number, you little shit!" Jungkook cursed and threw a cushion at him before turning to Hobi, “Please tell me you have something simple I can wear.”

Hobi stood up, already rummaging through his colorful wardrobe. “We know it’s not a date, Ggukie, but it’s a high-end place. You can’t walk in looking like a broke student.”

“That’s exactly what I am, though,” Jungkook huffed. “And did you not read his texts? He’s already flirting like some obsessed psycho. Dressing up for this is basically putting out bait for a tiger. Or worse, a tiger with mental issues.”

Eventually, after rejecting everything remotely glittery, fringed, or neon, Jungkook settled on a crisp white shirt and loose blue jeans. It was neat, restaurant-appropriate, but plain enough to make him look ordinary, uninteresting even.

As he adjusted the cuffs and slipped on the glasses, Jimin leaned over to Hobi and whispered, "He still looks like a five-course meal."

(Fit inspo, the infamous boyfriend-material Jungkook live)

The trio took the bus to the address the stalker had sent, squished into a row of three with Jungkook sandwiched in the middle, nervously watching their bus move toward the location on the map. 

“I don’t even know his name,” he whisper-screamed, eyes wide. “How am I supposed to find him there?”

Hobi blinked. “Wait. We never thought about this.”

Jimin, chewing on a candy, shrugged. “He’s seen you, right? So I’m guessing he’ll be on the watch. He'll find you for sure."

“Very comforting,” Jungkook groaned, sinking deeper into his seat. He hadn’t needed that reminder. Someone had been watching him that day at the café. But for how long? A shiver ran down his spine as a darker thought crept in. Had they been following him since the moment he blocked the number? That would mean they’d been keeping tabs on him for an entire week.

Shit. This wasn’t just weird anymore. It was bad. Really bad.

As their destination neared, Jungkook’s nerves kicked into overdrive. His leg bounced restlessly, and he clutched the seat like a lifeline. “Guys,” he gulped, “I think... I think we should go back. I-I don’t wanna do this anymore. What if he’s an actual creep who stalks people? I can just block him and-”

“The man knows where you live,” Jimin cut in flatly. “He said so in the texts. What if he actually shows up at our doorstep?”

“Whyyyy does it sound like you want that to happen?” Jungkook snapped, exasperated. “Jimin, this isn’t some K-drama!”

“Ggukie is right, Jimin-ah,” Hobi added carefully, “If he’s scared, we shouldn’t do this.”

Finally, someone speaking sense. Jungkook shot Hobi a grateful look.

“Don’t make me the villain here,” Jimin huffed, face contorting into a pouty scowl as he rolled his eyes. “Go back to those texts and see what he said about the police complaint.”

‘I don’t think they’ll bark at their master.’

Jungkook remembered that message way too clearly. The words hit harder now. It felt less like a warning and more like a promise. His throat tightened, and even Hobi, who had been trying to comfort him, went quiet.

Jimin, picking up on the shift in mood, spoke more gently this time. “Look… whoever this guy is, he’s not normal. Normal people don’t talk like that. From everything he said, he’s either got serious connections or enough power to keep the police in his pocket. And if that’s the case, there’s nothing we can really do.” He gave them both a pointed look. “So maybe just... go there, see what he wants, smile through it, and slowly ghost him later. Don’t give him a reason to go full psycho.”

It wasn’t exactly comforting, but it was smart. And unfortunately, smart was what they needed right now.

Jungkook slumped back into his seat with a heavy sigh. His hands were clammy, his stomach twisted in knots. He hated to admit it, but Jimin wasn’t wrong. He had never looked at the situation the way Jimin framed it, and now that he had, it sounded even scarier. This wasn’t just some weird texting thing anymore. This was a stranger who knew far too much about him and might hold enough power to do something if things didn’t go his way.

Sure, the messages had been unhinged in a flirty, chaotic way. But there was always an edge to them, like the man could snap if things didn’t go according to his plan, like he’d get what he wanted, one way or another. And that underlying threat... it lingered. So, yeah, as twisted as it felt, Jimin’s plan made sense. Show up, stay safe, maybe play along. Later, perhaps he could ghost the guy, or make himself boring enough for the whole thing to fizzle out. He glanced at Hobi and Jimin, trying to convince himself this was still in his hands. If he could just get through tonight, things might go back to normal.

But the unease crawling up his spine wouldn’t let go. What if this was just the beginning?

When they got off at the stop, Jungkook intentionally walked ahead, keeping a little distance. He needed to look alone, just in case this guy was watching. The restaurant was on the top floor of a tall, shiny building that screamed 'you can’t afford this.' Jimin and Hobi trailed behind him, acting like they didn’t know him. As he entered the building’s lobby, Jungkook slowed, taking in the line of expensive cars parked just outside. Each car was of some high-end brand that Jungkook didn't even know the names of. One of them could wipe out his student loans. Another could fund his family’s living expenses and still leave enough for him to start a small business.

Sigh.

He pressed the elevator button, hands stuffed in his pockets. Jimin and Hobi gave him a subtle nod and took a separate one a few feet away, heading up to the same floor. With each passing floor, his stomach twisted tighter, making him fully realize the gravity of the situation. This was insane. He was walking into a fancy restaurant to meet a total stranger. A guy who stalked him, a man whose name, face, and intentions were still a complete mystery. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. When the doors finally opened, he stepped out, phone still in hand.

The small earbud in his ear chimed, and he tapped to answer. “Jimin?” he whispered.

“We’re in,” Jimin’s voice came through. “Just act normal. We’ll be nearby.”

Jungkook slowly moved toward the restaurant entrance, scanning the lobby area. He stood at the edge, trying to look calm while his eyes darted across every single person in view. he adjusted his long hair again, just to make sure the earbud wasn't visible. A tall foreigner in his mid-forties gave him a side glance. 'Oh god, is that him? Is he a foreigner?' Another man, tall, clean-cut, glanced at him too. Then another, and another. Everyone here looked like they belonged to some corporate cult. Jungkook, with his white shirt and baggy jeans, looked painfully out of place.

“You see him yet?” Jimin asked through the earpiece.

Jungkook swallowed. “No. I think half the people here might be him.” He moved a little closer to the hostess stand, mind spinning, heart hammering inside his chest. He couldn’t tell if the few people who looked at him did so because they recognized him or because he looked lost.

Then-

“Jeon Jungkook?”

His breath caught. 'Is that him?' A man approached him, a few inches shorter than him, dressed in a dark, fitted suit that looked more custom-tailored than store-bought. Long hair brushed his shoulders, sleek and slightly tousled. His features were sharp, sculpted, and unfairly beautiful. But it was the scar, thin and prominent, cutting cleanly across his brow, that caught Jungkook’s attention.

“You actually came,” the man scoffed, as if he couldn't believe it. His voice was low and heavy with a faint Daegu accent, smirking now, amused and unreadable. “Follow me,” the man said, turning without waiting for a reply.

Jungkook blinked, frozen for a second. And then he took a small step forward, every cell in his body screaming caution while his feet moved anyway. He scanned the restaurant as they walked in. The place was gorgeous with dim lights, soft jazz in the background, and people dressed like they’d just stepped out of a fashion editorial. The tables gleamed with glassware and polished cutlery. They passed the main dining area, walking deeper into a more secluded section. Jungkook subtly glanced around to see if anyone was watching. His stomach churned as the plush carpet muted his steps.

“Who was that? Is it him?” Jimin's voice cracked in his ear. “Don’t say anything if it’s him. Clear your throat if it’s not.”

Jungkook cleared his throat, causing the man in front of him to glance back with an arched brow. But he said nothing, smirking faintly before continuing to walk. They reached a hallway, sleek and dimly lit, and the man finally stopped in front of a closed door. Without a word, he gave Jungkook a slow once-over and opened the door. Jungkook stepped inside hesitantly.

The first thing he noticed was another figure, someone standing near the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out from around the curtains, back facing the door, tall and straight. The lighting cast shadows on the contours of his form, making him look carved out of stone. The door shut behind Jungkook, and in the silence that followed, the figure turned. Jungkook gasped audibly.

“Holy shit,” he murmured.

“Jungkook?? What happened? Are you dying??” Jimin's panicked screech echoed in his ear, but he didn’t even register it.

Because standing in front of him was a man straight out of a fantasy, dressed in a sleek black suit that hugged every line of his body, raven-black hair pushed back, save for a couple of lazy strands that curled like commas above his eyes. And those siren eyes, sharp and dark like ink, locked onto Jungkook with the weight of someone who already knew too much. His features were absurdly symmetrical, full lips, straight nose, cheekbones sharp enough to be illegal.

His eyes raked over Jungkook slowly, a subtle tilt to his head before he spoke in a deep timbre that sent a tingling sensation through him, "I was half expecting you to run, darling."

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

It was a calm, cozy Sunday, and Jungkook was back at Hobi’s studio for his weekend art classes. A few more students had joined lately, and after assigning them a basic exercise and making sure each one was focused, he finally wheeled out a large canvas and set it up in the corner.

Exactly one week had passed since that strange, absurd little dinner with the man who’d been stalking and texting him like a lunatic. This time last Sunday, he’d been pacing around, fussing over his outfit, torn between anxiety and curiosity. And that meeting… it had been something. Exhilarating, even. The man had been such an unhinged flirt, and yet he had been charming in a way Jungkook hadn’t expected. And far too good-looking for someone who should’ve been blocked and reported.

Jungkook couldn’t stop replaying parts of it in his mind: the way that man had carried himself, calm and composed, like he was always two steps ahead. The directness in his words, the confidence in his gaze. There was a kind of magnetic pull that Jungkook couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t just the flirting. It was the attention he showered Jungkook with, the thrill, the intensity of it.

Still, true to his word, Vante hadn’t contacted him since. Not even a follow-up text after he'd gotten home.

Although… Jungkook had unblocked the previous, so-called private number, just in case.

Not that he was waiting or anything. Definitely not.

After hearing everything that had happened and all the cheesy things Vante had said, Jimin hadn’t let him live it down. “Who knows? He might become your sugar daddy or something,” Jimin had joked, half-serious as always. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a little helping hand with your debts and bills? Just to ease up your life a little?”

Jungkook hadn’t said anything then, just rolled his eyes and turned up the volume on the music. He wasn’t old-school or overly idealistic. He had no judgment toward people in those kinds of arrangements. To each their own. But pride, his was a little too stubborn. Sure, his life wasn’t great. He was still using a five-year-old phone with a cracked screen and had carried the weight of his father’s debts and a few loans of his own, which he took to keep his family fed. Sure, he didn’t wear the latest brands, because he couldn’t afford to splurge on things like other kids his age did.

But he took pride in everything that he had accomplished so far. He had worked his ass off to clear his father’s debts and supported his family since a young age. Every time he bought something new or paid for a tattoo, it was with money he’d earned himself through long days and longer nights. There were days when he cried in the shower, when he punched the walls in frustration, or sat staring blankly, wondering how the hell he was going to keep going. But even then, when he stood in front of the mirror, he could look himself in the eye, and felt the satisfaction that he wasn’t carrying any unnecessary baggage of regrets.

So, no matter what anyone said, his decision to turn Vante down—one-night stand or otherwise—was something he didn’t truly regret. He knew his limits and had his reasons.

But even so, it had been a while since he'd dated someone. He missed that feeling. The way it felt to be wanted and seen. To be the center of someone’s attention, appreciated without having to earn it first. And now that he'd felt someone's attention, especially someone who sat high up in the hierarchy and wielded a power that most people would never even get close to, it did things to him, left behind an ache he hadn’t realized was there.

With that thought circling in his mind, Jungkook let his hands move. Absentmindedly at first, and then with a little more focus. He sketched out the memory of that face, unsettlingly perfect and symmetrical. It was the only way he could get it out of his system. By the time the class ended, a quick portrait of “Mr. Handsome Stalker” was staring back at him from the canvas.

“Wowww, is he an idol?” Yuji, one of the kids, asked as she peeked at the sketch before leaving.

“No,” Jungkook smiled faintly. “Just a face I’ve been seeing in my dreams.”

Once the kids had packed up and left, the door creaked open again, and Hoseok walked in, whistling low as his eyes landed on the new sketch. “You’re telling me that’s him?” he asked, stepping closer. “Is he really that handsome, or did you erase the flaws?”

“I don’t think the problem was his looks,” Jungkook murmured, his voice softer now, eyes still on the half-finished sketch. “It was more… the way he acted.”

He turned to flee, but they were faster. Someone grabbed his arm while another gripped the back of his shirt and yanked him roughly toward the side of the building. His legs scrambled, slipping on the wet ground, but there was nowhere to go. The next punch came fast. And it split Jungkook’s lip. Rough hands shoved him into the wall, and another yanked at his shirt, tearing the collar open down to his navel.

“What’s wrong now, Jeon?” Seunghyun sneered, grabbing him by the neck. “Probably got that scholarship by spreading your legs.”

“Yeah,” another guy added, looking Jungkook up and down with disgusting interest. “Bet it didn’t matter what’s down there as long as he bent over just right.”

"He's got a nice ass, too."

"Push him on his knees, let's see what he's got." Seunghyun sneered as he lightly wrapped his hand around Jungkook's throat.

That was it. His fear turned into rage as he slammed his knee into Seunghyun. He swung his fist, catching another right in the jaw. The shock bought him just enough time. He ran. Rain poured down, but he didn’t stop. He just needed to get to the gate, but before he could, a car crashed through it, causing the metal gate to fly off its hinges and break. Tires screeched as the black vehicle skidded to a violent stop. The door flung open, and Vante stepped out. His eyes locked onto Jungkook immediately. And then the passenger door opened, and another guy, whom he now knew as Min Yoongi, stepped out next.

The infamous right hand of the Kim's. Cold. Untouchable. Rumors said he never left loose ends. “K-Kim Taehyung?” one of Seunghyun’s guys stuttered.

No one moved. No one could believe their eyes as the Kim heir—Vante—rushed to Jungkook.

Jungkook watched, stunned, as Taehyung dropped to his knees beside him, his face a mix of fury and fear. Without a word, he shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around Jungkook’s shaking frame. “Darling,” he whispered, voice tight, almost as if he was holding back his fury. His eyes swept over Jungkook’s torn clothes, the blood on his lip, the bruises already blooming. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m here.”

Jungkook felt like the ground had disappeared from beneath him. The relief hit him so hard it almost made him dizzy. He barely registered the coat being tucked closer around his body until Taehyung’s fingers brushed gently over the cut on his lip, before standing up again.

From the corner of his eye, Jungkook saw Seunghyun stumble back, looking as if he’d seen a ghost.

Min Yoongi stepped forward, dragging a wooden bat from the car behind him. It scraped across the wet pavement with a sound that made everyone flinch.

“Tch,” Yoongi muttered, voice flat with disinterest. “Looks like someone forgot who they’re dealing with.”

“Hyung,” Taehyung called, stepping beside him now, eyes still locked on Seunghyun. “Let me.”

Yoongi didn’t argue as he simply tossed the bat to Taehyung, who caught it in one fluid motion.

The first hit sent Seunghyun crashing to the ground, a sickening crack splitting the air. “You touched him?” Taehyung snarled, voice guttural. “You dared to lay a hand on what’s mine?”

Jungkook gasped at that, at the claim, raw and possessive, at the rage in Taehyung’s voice.

Another hit. And then another. Screams filled the alleyway, bouncing off the drenched walls, and Jungkook had to close his eyes. The sound, the sight, the smell, it was too much as he saw blood splattered across the pavement. Still, Taehyung didn’t stop until the bat cracked in half. He threw it away, and then he pulled out a gun.

Jungkook’s stomach dropped. “NO!” he cried, forcing himself to his feet on pure adrenaline. His legs barely held, but he pushed forward and wrapped his arms around Taehyung from behind, chest against his back, arms locking around his waist in a desperate attempt to pull him back. “Please… stop. Don’t. Let them go.”

Taehyung’s breathing was ragged under his palms, and Jungkook could feel the tremble in his body, the way his hands clenched and shook. The gun didn’t lower at first, and Jungkook held on tighter, afraid he’d be too late. Then, slowly, the gun dipped. The moment the barrel moved away, Seunghyun’s men took the chance. They scrambled, dragging Seunghyun away from the mess they had no idea they’d stepped into. 

Taehyung's hand lifted, resting over Jungkook’s, where they still clung tightly around his torso. “Darling…”

But Jungkook couldn’t answer as the relief, the fear, the pain, all surged at once, and the last of his strength vanished. His knees buckled beneath him, and everything tilted sideways.

“Jungkook!”

Taehyung caught him before he hit the ground, gathering him into his arms. Jungkook’s head lolled against his chest, breath shallow. “Hey! Stay with me. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

“I’ll take care of this,” Yoongi assured. “You better get the kid out of here.”

Taehyung didn’t argue as he swiftly lifted Jungkook in his arms like he was something precious and carried him toward the car.

He held him like he'd burn the world to protect him.

Chapter Text

Taehyung sat silently in the chair beside the bed, a glass of whiskey in hand, his body still, his mind anything but. Jungkook was comfortably tucked under the covers right now while he watched the bruise that blossomed near the younger's lip. A week ago, the image of the boy in his bed might have stirred something else in him, might have satisfied his hunger and fascination, something entirely selfish.

But now, there was only fury, white-hot and all-consuming. He took a slow sip of whiskey, the burn trailing down his throat as he stared at the boy who had occupied his thoughts since that damned dinner. The same boy who had cried out for him in panic today. The memory alone made his jaw clench, hand tightening around the glass until it nearly cracked. He had seen red the second Jungkook called. He’d been in the middle of something important, a few crates of his latest drugs were missing, and he was standing over a traitor trying to get information out in the most gruesome manner possible. But Jungkook’s broken voice on the phone had shattered his focus.

Without blinking, he shot the man in the head, then another, just for being in his way as he stormed out. He had driven there in a frenzy, running through countless red lights and nearly colliding with two vehicles before he crashed straight through the university gates. He hadn't stopped until he saw Jungkook, soaked to the bone, clothes torn, and blood on his face. For one terrifying second, Taehyung thought he was too late. He could’ve killed them all right then. He truly wanted to. But Jungkook had collapsed, unconscious, and suddenly, nothing else mattered.

By the time they reached his penthouse, they were soaked through. Taehyung had carried him upstairs, ignoring the surprised stares of his staff, his only focus on the young boy in his arms. The doctors had been waiting while he forced himself to step back as they treated him.

“Shock and adrenaline overload,” one of them had explained. “His body couldn’t handle the stress.”

It didn’t ease the tight knot in his chest. And now... Yoongi-hyung had just called to inform that Lee Seunghyun and three of his men were currently being held in the underground parking lot, tied up, bloodied, waiting for what came next. Normally, Taehyung would have been halfway down already, sleeves rolled up, his favorite knives in hand. But he found himself unable to move, not as the boy was still unconscious.

A movement brought him out of his thoughts as the boy stirred beneath the covers, lids fluttering before finally lifting. Taehyung leaned towards him, “You’re awake,” he said, voice low and strained with relief he didn’t want to show. Jungkook blinked up at him, dazed.

“Where... where am I?” his doe eyes went wide as he took in the surroundings.

“My place,” Taehyung explained softly, holding back the urge to caress the latter’s cheeks. “I brought you here when you fainted. The doctors said it was the shock... and the adrenaline crash. You’re safe now.”

Jungkook let out a breath, chest rising and falling shallowly. “They... they almost...”

“I know.” Taehyung’s voice was tight with fury, remembering the way Jungkook’s clothes were torn and bloodied. His fists clenched, nails digging into the skin as he reigned in the rage he'd felt at the thought of someone else touching the boy with wrong intentions. “And I swear, they won’t live long enough to try again.”

But just then, Jungkook turned to him sharply, his eyes, glassy with unshed tears, burned with rage, and it caught Taehyung a little off guard. “You…” he hissed. “It’s all because of you.”

Taehyung froze.

“They thought I was favored by you. The dean knows it, everyone does. That’s why they came after me. That’s why Seunghyun—” Jungkook broke off, shaking with anger. “They looked at me like I was filth.”

Taehyung just sat there in silence. He’d seen blood spill and given orders that ended lives. His father had taught him that guilt was a weakness and that power meant sacrificing others before they sacrificed you. But this… this was different. This wasn’t some rival gang member out to kill him or a traitor who stabbed him in the back. This was just a boy with starry eyes and a dimpled smile who hadn’t asked for any of this.

And for the first time in a long time, Taehyung couldn’t meet someone’s eyes. He looked away, jaw tightening. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to bring this on you.” The apology felt strange on Taehyung’s tongue. He wasn’t used to being the one who gave them, only ever to his father. To everyone else, apologies were something he collected, not offered.

Jungkook moved, sitting up slowly now.

He looked down at the soft blue silk pajamas he was wearing and frowned. “Did you change my clothes?” he asked, voice still hoarse.

Taehyung raised a brow, thinking of this as the moment to ease the tension a little and change the direction in which that conversation was headed. “As much as I would’ve liked to, no,” he said with a small smirk. “The nurses did. Your clothes were torn and soaked.”

Jungkook looked away, absently running his fingers over the fabric. He didn’t say it, but Taehyung could tell that he liked the feel of it. Then, as if something suddenly clicked, Jungkook’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, what time is it?” He started looking around, searching for a clock.

“Five in the evening,” Taehyung replied, watching him carefully.

“Damn, my shift! I have to go,” Jungkook mumbled, already pushing the covers off and trying to stand, the sudden movement making him a little dizzy.

Taehyung caught him by the shoulders before he could fall. “Easy there, sweetheart,” he said, guiding him gently back down. “Your best friend’s covering for you.”

“You contacted Jimin?” Jungkook blinked. “Of course you did. I keep forgetting that you can probably get anyone’s number at this point.”

Taehyung chuckled. “Surprisingly, it wasn’t me, but Yoongi-hyung who got it. That was a bit of a shocker, even for me.”

“Yoongi?” Jungkook frowned. “That’s the same guy Seunghyun was talking about. Said he was looking into me. On your orders, I assume?” His voice hardened. “That’s what started all of this, you know.”

Taehyung exhaled. “Lee Seunghyun has been on our payroll for a long time. When you mentioned SNU in the initial texts, he was the only one who could’ve pieced it together. I didn’t know he’d take it that far or hurt you like that... but I’m sorry.” He moved closer, dropping to his knees in front of Jungkook, sitting back on his heels as he reached for the younger’s hands, thumbs gently tracing over the bruised knuckles. Jungkook’s eyes flicked down to the movement, a hint of pink dusting his cheeks.

“You beat them up,” the younger whispered, like the memory was just hitting him. “You also pulled out a gun. Who even does that?” He paused, scanning Taehyung’s face, “What... who are you?”

Taehyung’s smile faded. Moment of truth, he thought. He'd never hidden who he was, he didn’t need to. In his world, power was survival. He had built his name on it, earned the fear, demanded the respect. He’d grown up watching his father crush people like flies. And he’d done his fair share of damage, too. Beating men into silence, pulling the trigger when it had to be done. No guilt, no regrets.

Because in his world, it was either hunt or be hunted on. People didn’t challenge him. They obeyed. If he hinted at a favor, they folded, dropped to their knees, sang his praises, and licked his boots. Power bought them, money, drugs, status, girls, boys, anything. They sold their souls the moment he flashed his last name. And if someone more powerful came along, they’d sell again.

But Jungkook? No, Jungkook didn’t care about any of it. He had morals, pride, and principles that couldn’t be bought. He was stubborn, honest, and annoyingly brave. The kind of pure that was rare in Taehyung’s world, so he found himself unable to face Jungkook now.

“You saw me with a gun,” he said at last, looking the latter right in the eyes. “You saw what I did to them. So what is it, Jungkook? Are you waiting for me to say it out loud, or are you going to put two and two together?”

There was silence as Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “So… what? They mentioned something about you being a Kim heir. Are you a corrupt politician or chaebol or… some gang leader?”

Taehyung tilted his head, lips curving into a slow, dangerous smile. “I’m not sure how much you’ve heard about the Kims… but to be honest, I’m a mix of all but a lot closer to the last one.” He watched as Jungkook paled slightly, but didn’t flinch, didn’t move. He just kept staring.

Taehyung sighed and glanced away, trying to shift the mood. “Anyway, do you want me to draw you a warm bath or something? You’ve been out in the rain, there’s dirt on your skin… I figured you might want to feel clean again.

Jungkook blinked at him, then looked down, flustered. “Um… yes, please.”

That simple “please” made Taehyung smile. People around him took whatever they could from him. They flaunted it, bragged about his favor like it was currency. And here was this boy, bruised, shaken to the core, still nice, still grounded. Taehyung handed him a glass of water and a couple of painkillers. “Take these. I’ll go run the bath.”

He stepped into the adjacent bathroom, adjusting the temperature of the water, pouring in lavender oil, and lighting a few scented candles. Soft things for the boy who truly deserved them. When he came back, Jungkook was sitting up, sipping the water slowly.

“The bath’s ready,” Taehyung said, surprised by the gentle tone his voice took now. “Closet’s right there, take anything that feels comfortable. Come downstairs when you’re done.”

Jungkook nodded, murmuring a soft thanks before disappearing into the bathroom. He watched the door close, then descended the stairs to the living room. He dropped into the armchair by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the skyline, but not really seeing it. He wasn’t used to this feeling. Honestly, at first, it had been lust. The picture Jungkook had accidentally sent, Taehyung couldn’t stop thinking about it. He’d imagined ways to charm him, to impress him. Maybe spoil him for a few days, get himself a pretty toy to play with, and then move on. That’s how it usually went. Jungkook’s life seemed like it would fit, too. Loans, bills, desperation, most people would've folded by dessert.

But he didn’t. Jungkook stuck to his pride, his morals. Even while being scared, he had refused to take the easy way out.

That refusal, quiet yet firm, had stunned Taehyung, had lingered with him. He'd tried to get over it, had taken a rising actor to bed that week. The man had been eager, willing to do anything just for a taste of Taehyung’s favor. But all Taehyung could think of was Jungkook, with his wide, honest eyes and trembling hands, saying no, not out of spite, but out of morals. That kind of purity… didn’t exist in Taehyung’s world. Maybe that’s why it drew him in. 

He wouldn’t admit it, but Jungkook’s rejection had stung. It had, in a way, bruised his pride. Maybe that’s why he’d paid off his debts. Why had he waited, hoping Jungkook would call first. Talking to him had become something rare, something that he had never experienced growing up. Because amidst all the blood and betrayal, Jungkook was like a dream, and right now, as Taehyung sat there, he realized just how deep this situation had gotten. He was still lost in thought when Seokjin and Namjoon stepped into the penthouse.

“We’ve got the dean,” Seokjin said, walking over to the couch across from him. “CCTV footage will be wiped within the hour.”

Namjoon leaned against the edge of the sofa, arms crossed. “You really went off script this time, Taehyung-ah. You could’ve sent Yoongi-hyung to clean this up. But instead, you went yourself and put that boy at the center of the board, with a target on his back.”

They were right, of course. His cousins had been holding the reins of the empire longer than he ever had. Namjoon and Jin were calm, calculating as they ran the inner workings of the business, while Yoongi, ruthless and brilliant, raised as his father’s right hand since he was sixteen, took care of the dirty work. Together, they ran the underground. Taehyung, in contrast, had built the legitimate face of the Kim empire. The front. The business people praised in magazines and news.

But ever since his father passed, it had all fallen to him. And he hadn’t hesitated. He was purging the rot from the inside out, traitors, parasites, anyone leeching from the Kim name. And somewhere in the middle of all that… he’d saved Jungkook.

“I couldn’t just sit back,” Taehyung muttered. “They were hurting someone who had nothing to do with our world. And it was my fault he got dragged into this.”

There was a minute of silence as he gazed into their eyes, pleading for them to understand this whole situation.

“Then we protect him,” Seokjin promised, glancing at Namjoon. “Keep him close. Just until we clean this up.”

“I’m already planning to,” Taehyung replied, voice low as the images of the younger boy, bruised and helpless, kept flashing in his mind. “I’m not letting him get hurt again.”

Namjoon gave him a long look. “You like him, don't you?”

Taehyung shot him a glare, but the question hung there. Did he like Jungkook? He didn’t know. It wasn’t the usual pull, not just lust or desire. It was something more confusing, something more deeper. When he saw Jungkook at the university, soaked in rain, bleeding, terrified, he had snapped. The fury he’d felt was primal. Not even betrayal from people he trusted had ever enraged him like that. If someone so much as looked at Jungkook the wrong way again, Taehyung would dismantle everything piece by piece, name by name. And the fact that he meant it? That confused him more than he’d ever admit.

Taehyung ran a hand through his hair, clenching his jaw in frustration. “A bodyguard’s out of the question. It’ll make him feel trapped. And keeping him here means he will start seeing too much. I don’t want him to see that side of me… not like that.” 

He didn’t say it aloud, but that thought clawed at him. What if he came with blood on his hands, bruised knuckles? What if Jungkook saw him deal with those people ruthlessly? Would Jungkook still look at him the same if he ever witnessed that? Or would he run?

Namjoon, always calm and practical, suggested, “Then let’s put someone discreet on him. Let him trail Jungkook in plain clothes, not too close, not obvious. Someone who knows how to blend in.”

“Someone who knows not to be seen unless it’s a life or death situation,” Seokjin added. “I’ll pick them myself.”

The conversation stalled when soft footsteps echoed down the stairs. Taehyung turned and forgot how to breathe. Jungkook padded down in a white tee that hugged his lean frame, the sleeves short enough to reveal the trail of ink on his arm. The t-shirt was tucked neatly into jeans that fit a little too well, the waistband sitting just right on his narrow hips. His damp hair curled slightly over his forehead, making him look like an innocent puppy, but that clashed with the tattoos and toned thighs that screamed anything but innocence.

There was something unexplainable about seeing Jungkook like this. Wearing his shirt, his jeans, walking through his home like he belonged in it. And for a flickering second, something raw twisted in his chest.

Possessiveness.

He hadn’t expected it, hadn’t anticipated how much it would affect him to see Jungkook wrapped up in pieces of him. It was intimate in a way that made his pulse spike, like Jungkook had unknowingly stepped across an invisible line and claimed space in his life he didn’t even know was unoccupied - every detail sent a quiet, territorial part of him spiraling.

“Uh… hi?” Jungkook muttered, gaze flicking between the strangers in the room.

Namjoon leaned toward Seokjin, his voice low. “Now I get it, we've officially lost him.”

Seokjin chuckled. “I can’t even blame him, though.”

Taehyung shot them both a sharp glare before crossing the room and resting a tentative hand on the small of Jungkook’s back, softly, like he didn’t trust himself to touch more. “Jungkook, these are my cousins, Namjoon-hyung and Seokjin-hyung." 

Namjoon studied him a moment longer before nodding in approval. “Handsome," he commented, "everything makes sense now.”

He watched fondly as Jungkook’s ears turned pink. The younger stared pointedly at the carpet. “I, um.... You’re all good-looking too.”

Taehyung barely suppressed a laugh while the other chuckled. As they sat on the couch, he leaned closer to Jungkook, draping his arm on the sofa, careful enough not to touch him.

Seokjin leaned over, “If this guy gives you trouble, call me. I’m the nice one.”

“Hyung,” Taehyung groaned.

Jungkook laughed as Seokjin winked. “No, hyung is serious, little one.” Before he paused and handed Jungkook a box.

“A new phone?” Jungkook blinked.

“Yours was destroyed, wasn’t it? We got this on the way here,” Seokjin said, patting his shoulder.

“Consider it an apology from our end.” Namjoon gave him that kind, dimpled smile

“I can’t—this is too much,” Jungkook murmured.

“It’s not enough,” Seokjin said. “You got caught in something you never signed up for. Just accept it, kid.”

Namjoon stood, brushing his coat straight. “Alright, I think we should head out now, Tae." he glanced between the two of them, then whispered to Seokjin, chuckling, “Yeah. We’ve lost him.”

And with that, they left. Taehyung’s gaze dropped to Jungkook’s inked arm again.

“I didn’t know your whole arm was tattooed,” pulling Jungkook's attention back to him. "Would you consider showing them to me? Someday?”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “Is that your way of trying to get me to undress again? Remind me of that offer?”

Taehyung chuckled. “As bad as you think I am, I’m heavy on consent, darling. I won’t do anything you don’t want.” Then he stood and gestured to the dining table. “Come on. Let’s eat. You’ve got to be hungry.”

“Starving,” Jungkook admitted with a sheepish grin.

Taehyung smiled as he watched Jungkook settle in. He looked more at ease now, like he was starting to feel a little safer around him. “So I did get that second dinner in a way,” he said casually.

Jungkook looked like he wanted to argue, “Under very unfortunate circumstances, though. And for the record, this isn’t the dinner I agreed to."

Taehyung let out a soft laugh as he moved to the kitchen. He started pulling out boxes from the fridge and grabbing a couple of plates.

Jungkook followed, hovering near the counter. “You cook?” he asked, watching him open lids and grab a pan.

“Nope,” Taehyung said, amused. “I just heat things up.”

He saw Jungkook observe him from the corner of his eye and could imagine what he must be thinking. Taehyung didn't think anyone got to see him like this, apart from his hyungs - sweatpants, the loose tee, messy hair - so far from the sharp, intimidating man everyone knew.

“That’s not very mafia boss of you,” he said.

Taehyung’s heart softened at the way Jungkook teased him now; it felt easy. Normal. Like the fear was peeling away, little by little. He grabbed a pair of chopsticks and waved them in Jungkook’s face. “These can be deadly too, you know.”

Jungkook laughed, scoffing, “As if.”

“No, seriously. Yoongi-hyung once killed someone with a pair.”

Jungkook froze mid-laugh. “Wait, what?”

Taehyung smirked, pouring the japchae into the pan. “Yeah. Big guy, too. Stabbed him right in the throat," he explained, waving the chopsticks like a weapon. He kept his tone light, like it was just another story. But when Jungkook’s eyes widened a little, he caught the mistake he'd made. Oops. 

“…Do you?” Jungkook asked after a few minutes. “I mean, do you really kill people?”

Taehyung didn’t answer right away as he quietly plated the japchae, then added the side dishes Jungkook had arranged. Finally, he handed one over and sat across from him at the table. “Sometimes,” he said, his voice a little quieter.

He didn’t want to talk about it. Not now.Not when things felt almost... normal. And not when Jungkook looked like this, like this was something they did every day. Sitting across the table, talking about each other’s day like it meant something. This was such a rare moment in his life, that had him imagining what it would be like.... to see someone in his empty home, or hear laughter that wasn’t calculated, maybe he'd be able to say “I’m tired” without seeming weak, maybe he'll complain about some series, argue a little then kiss and make up instead of dealing with bribes, threats, and dead bodies.

What would it be like to be just Taehyung? Not Kim Taehyung. Not the heir. Not the one they all feared and obeyed. Just a guy in sweatpants, serving up reheated japchae, trying not to stare too long at a boy with stars in his eyes. Taehyung had never imagined moments like this. Since he was sixteen, he’d known exactly what his life would look like: tense meetings, shadowed alleys, blood on his hands, eyes always watching. He’d spent his youth at his father’s side, learning how to be feared.

He never let himself dream of anything else. He never understood those quiet scenes in movies where they would show cozy dinners, late-night talks, and laughter over nothing. People living slow, soft lives had always felt like something out of fiction. But now, sitting across from Jungkook, he got it. Now he understood why people longed for, fought for, worked their ass off for this sense of normalcy.

Maybe this version of him, quiet, soft, smiling at someone across the table, could exist. Maybe, just maybe... if only for tonight.

------------------------------------------------

“Sometimes,” he had said. He spoke about killing people like he was talking about bad weather. Something that just happens. And it struck Jungkook then, how far gone he must be to say that, to mean it... and not even flinch. Understandable, maybe. He was a gang leader after all.

But as Jungkook watched him now in messy hair, long limbs folded awkwardly, soft sweatpants, bare feet tapping the tiles, he just couldn’t picture that Taehyung. This version of him looked cozy. Real even. His tan skin was warm in the kitchen light, his cheeks puffed with food as he snuck glances across the table, always checking if Jungkook needed anything. He even nudged a few extra pieces of meat onto Jungkook’s plate, murmuring something about getting his strength up. It was... endearing, stupidly so.

For a moment, Jungkook forgot this was the same man who had stalked him and indirectly landed him in trouble with Seunghyun. He also saved me, Jungkook reminded himself. If Taehyung hadn’t shown up today... A shiver ran down his spine at the thought.

“Are you cold?” Taehyung’s voice was soft, concerned. “Want me to get you a jacket? Or turn the heat up?”

Jungkook blinked, caught off guard. “No, I’m okay.” He mumbled, ducking his head, cheeks warming. It felt strange—being fussed over, being cared for as he was always the one doing it for his family and everyone around him. So having someone, this someone, notice such small things made something in his chest ache in a way he didn’t know how to name.

“I... thank you for today,” he added, quieter now. “If you hadn’t come on time, I—” his voice caught a little, throat tight, “I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

Taehyung paused, then gently set down his chopsticks. He reached across the table, slowly, giving Jungkook a chance to pull away. But Jungkook didn’t. His eyes flicked to the hand hovering between them. So Taehyung moved, his hand, warm and large and steady, wrapping around Jungkook’s fingers like he was afraid they’d vanish.

“Darling,” he said softly, “I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Not because of others. And never because of me.” He rubbed gentle circles against the back of Jungkook’s hand, the movement grounding him. “You don’t have to worry about them anymore. It’s been taken care of. Your dean, too—that coward has been begging for mercy”

Jungkook frowned at that. “Taken care of how?”

“You don’t need to know that,” Taehyung replied, voice light but firm. “They won’t come near you again.”

Jungkook’s stomach twisted, and he tugged his hand back, resting it in his lap. “Are you avoiding the question? What did you do to them?”

A pause. 

“Please don’t tell me you— you killed them.”

Taehyung’s jaw clenched. “No,” he said tightly. “Not yet. But I should have. How dare they lay a hand on you? I—”

“Don’t,” Jungkook cut in, sharper than he meant to. “Don’t kill them.”

Taehyung’s eyes landed on him, something guarded flickering behind them, as if he was keeping a part of himself on a tight leash.

“Back there, you said I’m yours.” Jungkook’s voice shook slightly. “I’m not your possession, Taehyung. If that’s what this is about… this whole thing—it’s all messed up.”

Taehyung leaned back in his chair, then, arms crossed, one leg casually draped over the other. His eyes went cold, “Seunghyun’s been on my payroll for years. What he did today, what he tried to do, is betrayal. Not just against me, but the entire clan we built. If I don’t respond, if I show mercy, they'll think I’ve gone soft. That they can challenge me. That I’m weak.”

His words chilled Jungkook. The warmth from earlier had vanished. This was the man from the hotel. The one who dealt in blood and fear.

“He’s a rotten brick in my empire,” Taehyung went on, eyes sharp now, “If I don’t destroy him now, the rot will spread.”

Jungkook swallowed, the tension thick in his throat. And yet, beneath all that cold logic, there was something else in those eyes, something quieter, buried deep in those dark irises. Not fear, but protectiveness, aimed entirely at him.

Despite everything, Jungkook found his voice again. Softer now. “You’re terrifying, you know that?”

Taehyung didn’t answer at first. Then he nodded. “I have to be, I was born to be,” he murmured. “To everyone.” His gaze drifted back to Jungkook. “But not to you.”

Jungkook’s fingers tightened around his chopsticks. “Why me?” he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it. It had been bothering him for a while, this strange attention, this protection, this pull.

Taehyung chuckled softly. “You ask that like I haven’t answered it already.” He tilted his head, resting his chin on his palm as he leaned in. “Told you you're interesting, adorably pretty, and you’re different.”

“Different?” Jungkook frowned, skeptical. “There’s nothing special about me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Taehyung’s voice dropped a little, rich with something too soft to be dangerous. “By now, tons of others in your position would've folded. Anyone with your circumstances might have given in for a glimpse of the high life. I know a thousand people who would've sold their souls for a taste of what I could offer them. But not you.” His voice dropped lower. “You’re honest. You’ve got morals, no matter how messy your life gets. You stand your ground even when you have no way out."

Jungkook processed that as Taehyung paused for a while and then, “You’re the first person I’ve met in years who looks at me like I’m just… a guy,” a dry laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Scary, sure. But not an opportunity. Not a threat.”

And for a second, Jungkook’s heart forgot how to function. It stumbled over itself like it didn’t know whether to freeze or run. Because the definition of "just a guy" didn’t match the man sitting across from him, a man who left blood in his wake. And yet… here he was, serving food, eyes soft and voice gentler than Jungkook had ever heard it. Still terrifying. But also… something else.

He looked away, cheeks growing hot. “Then I guess… you just haven’t met enough good people yet.

And Jungkook found out just how fast his heart could beat. Faster than when he ran laps during football practice, faster than when he panicked mid-presentation, faster than he’d ever admit. As he helped clear the table in silence, a rare sort of calm settled between them. It wasn’t awkward. It felt… full, overwhelming, like everything that had been said was hanging in the air like warm steam.

Then Jungkook checked the time. “Shit—it’s late. “I should probably head home,” he muttered, biting his lip, heart lurching to his throat as the action drew Taehyung's attention to his lips. “Hoseok-hyung’s gonna think I got kidnapped or something…”

The elder chuckled slightly, trying again to not look at his lips. “I mean, technically, you did.”

Jungkook shot him a look. “That’s not funny.”

Taehyung then raised his hands in surrender, walking to the window. “It’s still raining. “We're far away from your place, so I'd suggest you stay the night."

“I can call a cab—” Jungkook blinked as he processed what Taehyung had just said. “Wait, what?”

Taehyung turned to him, “There’s a guest room right there, you can take that if you want. Or, if you like my bed upstairs, you can have it tonight. I’ll take this room.”

The idea of walking home through rain with clothes clinging to his skin after the kind of day he’d just survived was exhausting. But still… staying here? With him? His brain threw up every red flag it could, waving them like it was on fire. And yet his heart, that stupid, traitorous little thing, was pounding so hard....

“…You’re sure?” he asked finally, quietly.

Taehyung smiled. Not the smug kind, not the sharp kind. Just soft that felt almost shy. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.

The silence stretched for a beat, thick with things neither of them wanted to say. Then Jungkook muttered under his breath, “I don’t even have any comfortable clothes…”

At that, the elder smiled before he was already walking toward his room. “Come upstairs, let's find you something.”

Taehyung stood quietly in his walk-in closet, pulling out an oversized t-shirt and a pair of soft, loose pants. Something comfortable and handed them to Jungkook with a short nod, then stepped out, giving him the space to change. Back in the bedroom, he lit a sandalwood-scented candle, earthy scent quickly filling the space. It always helped him sleep, maybe it would help Jungkook too. The boy had already been dragging his feet on the way up the stairs, lids heavy with exhaustion, his movements slow.

Jungkook padded out of the closet a few minutes later, practically swimming in the shirt. He looked impossibly soft like that, blinking sleepily, rubbing one eye with the back of his hand. Taehyung shook his head as his heart did a thing, then, “Cute,” he murmured under his breath. He guided the younger to the bed without a word, helping him climb in, smoothing the blanket over him. Jungkook didn’t protest; his body was already surrendering to sleep.

Taehyung reached out, fingers threading gently through the boy’s long hair. “Good night, darling,” he whispered.

For a fleeting second, he considered leaning down to press a kiss to Jungkook’s forehead, but it felt too intimate. Too much. So instead, he took the boy’s hand and pressed a quiet kiss to his knuckles. Jungkook was already breathing evenly, lashes brushing his cheeks as he drifted off while Taehyung sat beside the bed a little longer, watching him.

When had this happened? When had he become this soft for anyone?

He wasn’t the type to care. Never had been. He had always kept everyone at a distance, emotionally detached, sharp, and cold. He discarded people like empty cigarette packs after he'd had his fair share of pleasure; he consumed flesh without a second thought.

But this—Jungkook—it wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about possession, or dominance, or even lust. It was something strange because Jungkook hadn’t touched him in any of those ways. And yet, somehow, he’d managed to steal everything Taehyung thought he’d buried long ago, his time, his attention, his restraint. And worse, he was beginning to stir feelings Taehyung had long forgotten how to name.

Affection.

Tenderness.

Longing.

That terrifying, unshakable need to protect something… just because he cared. Taehyung sat back in his chair and let out a slow breath, eyes on the boy now curled up in his bed, tucked under his sheets, wearing his clothes, sleeping in his room, a space no one else had ever entered.

He wasn’t sure what this was yet. But he was certain of one thing. He wasn’t ready to let Jungkook go.

Chapter Text

You can play this as you read, as I kinda wrote this update while listening to: Lucky Strike by Troye Sivan

A low, deep humming echoed faintly in the room, waking Jungkook out of his deep slumber. His brain was still foggy as he realized the bed felt different. It was plush and softer than what he was used to. The smell was unfamiliar but comforting. His eyes blinked open halfway in confusion before it all clicked.

Right.

He was at Taehyung’s place. As the events of yesterday came back in hazy flashes, he recalled the attack, the panic he'd felt, and the calm that washed over him later. He remembered falling asleep, feeling oddly safe, despite being in the house of a gang leader. And now, that beautiful voice... the humming. Was Taehyung singing? He quickly closed his eyes, not wanting to interrupt the other. The sound was low and melodious, surprising for someone like Taehyung. Footsteps moved across the room, and Jungkook’s curiosity got the better of him. He peeked, just for a second, and almost gasped.

The humming was clearer now, a deep, beautiful baritone voice. And, unfortunately for Jungkook’s sanity, very, very shirtless. Taehyung stood there with a towel hanging low on his hips, water still dripping from his beautiful tan skin. His body was all lean muscle and power, not overly bulky but cut just right, like some Greek statue had been brought to life. Jungkook bit his lip before he even realized what he was doing.

He was only human after all and very, VERY gay.

If Jimin were here, he would’ve elbowed Jungkook hard in the ribs and whispered, "That's a damn fine catch, Gguk. Who knew gang leaders looked like high-end fashion models?"

Jungkook tried to look away, to go back to pretending to be asleep. He really did. But Taehyung was humming still, entirely unbothered as he walked to the drawers near the window, flipping through them with ease till he found a few rings that he slipped on. And then, without turning—

“Like what you see, sweetheart?”

Jungkook choked on air, a small yelp falling from his lips before scrambling to pull the blanket over his face, as if it could protect him from the sheer embarrassment of being caught red-handed.

“I wasn’t staring,” he mumbled into the pillow.

He heard Taehyung chuckle, “You kinda were,” he teased, “Not that I mind.” The bed dipped in front of him, and Jungkook squeaked, before quickly turning over and moving away, his back now to Taehyung, face fully buried in the blanket like a bunny hiding in its burrow. A moment later, the blanket was gently tugged down. His heart thudded in his chest wildly as he stared up at Taehyung. The man had his hands planted on either side of his head, muscles bulging, and Jungkook tried very hard not to stare too long at his pecs, despite them being right in his face.

“Morning, darling,” Taehyung murmured, hovering over him, droplets from his wet hair landing on Jungkook’s cheek that he gently wiped off. The touch lingered for a second too long. His heart tripped over itself, the position they were in, making it worse.

“Morning,” he managed to croak, before launching himself off the bed and darting into the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him, breathing hard as he gripped the sink. His face was burning. Taehyung was just too much. Too calm, too handsome, too direct. He breathed in and out slowly to calm down his racing heart before he reached for the spare toothbrush on the counter, neatly laid out.

Of course, it was ready. Of course, Taehyung had thought of that. As he brushed, Taehyung walked in again, a faint smile on his lips, thankfully wearing slacks but still shirtless. A massive golden tiger pendant rested between his pecs, its emerald eyes glinting under the lights, and he tried not to stare, but Taehyung was close, too close. His fingers twitched with the urge to touch the pendant, just the pendant, okay? Totally innocent.

“Since you’re skipping college today,” Taehyung said, drying his hair with a towel while Jungkook struggled to look anywhere but his bulging arms, “how about we go out and get some breakfast?”

Jungkook raised a brow in the mirror, “You really into this whole ‘meals together’ thing?” he asked. “Or are you trying to sneak in another date?”

Taehyung smirked. “If you want it to be a date, it can be one.”

--------------

Later, freshly showered and dressed in Taehyung’s clothes again, Jungkook stood in the walk-in closet, feeling a little overwhelmed. Everything looked expensive.

Gucci.

Chanel.

Versace.

He didn’t even know people actually wore some of these exorbitant brands so casually. He nervously picked out the one thing that felt familiar and simple enough. A plain black shirt and matching pants, which felt a little tight on his thighs. They smelled like Taehyung. That musky, woodsy scent he’d started to recognize. He shouldn’t feel this comfortable wearing someone else’s clothes. But somehow, it wasn’t that bad. After what happened yesterday - with the way Taehyung came to help and cared for him, it felt like something had shifted.

Jungkook didn’t expect that kind of care from someone like him. Or patience. Or warmth. And it didn’t help that Taehyung was ridiculously attractive. And so open, so bold. Unlike the few disgusting dates he'd been on in the past, Taehyung didn't seem to put on a nice guy facade to get into his pants, and he never hid what he wanted. He looked at Jungkook like he meant it. Jungkook had never been pursued like that, at least not by someone who made his pulse skip just by standing too close. But the problem - the big one - was who Taehyung was, what he did. If he had been just a normal guy... maybe Jungkook would’ve already fallen by now.

But this wasn’t normal. This was something else entirely. Still, he found himself unable to back away. And Taehyung didn't seem to let go either.

By the time he stepped out, fully dressed and still a little flustered, Taehyung was in the kitchen, phone pressed to his ear.

“No, hyung. I’m not coming in today. You can handle it.” He looked up, saw Jungkook, frowning a little, before he walked into the hallway. When he returned, he held a warm coat in one hand. Still on the phone, he helped Jungkook into it. His hands smoothed over the shoulders, fixing the fit. Then, calmly, almost too casually, he said— “Hold him till I get back. I’ll deal with them myself.” His voice had gone cold, but the hand that caressed Jungkook’s flushed cheeks felt gentle.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “He’s still here. I’ll be around.” Then he hung up without waiting for a reply.

Jungkook blinked at him. “Was that about me?”

“Seunghyun and his boys are being held up downstairs." A pause, then "As I promised, they won’t come near you again.”

He wanted to ask not to hurt them, but he remembered what Taehyung had told him, about disrespect, about his world. Maybe it wasn’t his place to say anything.

“Come on, let’s get you some breakfast, pretty.” And just like that, Jungkook’s heart flipped all over again.

Taehyung casually reached down and took his hand as they walked to the elevator. Jungkook’s face flushed instantly, but he didn’t pull away, instead, he held on a little tighter.

“You're always this thoughtful,” Jungkook muttered, “or is this part of your mafia PR makeover? Didn’t know mob bosses took tips from K-dramas.”

Taehyung chuckled, but it felt more out of anger than amusement, “Don’t compare me to those two-faced filths. They act all the time, and you'll take back all that adoration once you get to know how they really are when the cameras aren't rolling. I, on the other hand…” He paused, glancing sideways at Jungkook, “I do care. Especially, when it comes to someone I’m interested in.”

Jungkook looked away, ears burning. Great. He was a blushing mess again. This guy had no business looking like that and talking like this. “Says the guy who extorts, sells drugs, and, oh yeah, kills people,” Jungkook muttered. “Sounds super nice."

That made Taehyung laugh, a deep, real laugh. “If you knew the truth about half these people, you'd call me a saint.”

Jungkook raised a brow at him, “Is that so? Enlighten me, Professor of Mobs.”

“I do what I do, Jungkook,” Taehyung said, eyes forward, tone now serious. “But the need for what I provide, substances, flesh, and power - all that demand doesn’t come from me. It comes from the same people you vote into office, idolize, and fangirl over. Politicians. Celebrities. Anyone with enough access to riches and influence, really. Your dean, too, the ones society practically worships.”

Jungkook blinked. “Wait—what?”

"People like me simply provide, we're like the front they use to keep their secrets buried,” Taehyung continued, “like a mask. The one who gets his hands dirty so they don’t have to. But at least I’m honest about who I am.”

It wasn’t the explanation Jungkook expected. It didn’t excuse anything, but it didn’t feel fake either. It felt… tired like someone who’d lived too many truths to bother dressing them up. He didn’t say anything after that, thoughts spinning now. When they stepped into the underground parking, three men in suits bowed.

“Sir, we weren’t informed of a change in schedule. Which car do you need?”

Taehyung waved them off and walked to a sleek, black Aston Martin. “No need. I’m driving. Tail us in another car.”

Jungkook just stood there for a moment, stunned, wondering just how loaded the man in front of him was to afford THAT. Taehyung opened the passenger door for him, and when he slid in, everything smelled like leather and cologne. Rich, intimidating, and something he'd never imagined happening in his life. Taehyung slid into the driver’s seat like it was second nature and pulled out of the lot.

Jungkook glanced behind them as another car began following them. “Do you always have people tailing you?”

Taehyung smirked. “Usually, Yoongi-hyung is enough, but today I’ve got precious cargo,” he winked.

Jungkook groaned, covering his face. “Please stop.”

“What? I’m just being honest.”

The café Taehyung picked was in a neighborhood he had never been to. It was classy with wooden interiors, glass walls, and soft jazz playing in the background. Jungkook felt oddly out of place at first. Not because of how he looked, he was wearing Taehyung’s clothes after all, ones that practically whispered "expensive". But because of who he was with.

Taehyung walked in like he owned the place. Not arrogantly, just… with ease, as if the world rearranged itself to make space for him. “Sit wherever you want,” he said casually, holding the door for him.

Jungkook picked a booth by the window. It felt safer to have a view of the street, just in case. Taehyung joined him a few minutes later. "I hope you don't mind me placing an order for you as well."

"No, that's okay," he murmured. The silence between them wasn’t awkward but rather calm and oddly comfortable. Their food arrived quickly: steaming jjigae, rolled omelets, sticky rice, and pickled sides. It felt familiar, and Jungkook realized he'd been starving.

As they ate, more people trickled into the café with sleek hair, tailored suits, manicured nails. The kind who didn’t blink twice at ten-dollar lattes and had “golf with the Minister” marked on their calendars. Jungkook watched them with curiosity until a man in his forties, dressed in a sleek gray suit, walked over to their table.

“Ah, Taehyung-ssi,” the man greeted, hands clasped politely. “What a surprise to see you here. Didn’t expect to run into you.” He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes, which kept darting to Jungkook instead. 

Taehyung didn’t even look up as he took another bite, chewing slowly, and muttered, “Piss off. I don’t like being disturbed while eating.”

The man flinched like he’d been slapped. “I—I didn’t mean to intrude,” he stammered, backing away with an awkward bow. “My apologies.” He left quickly, practically tripping over himself.

Jungkook blinked. “That was… rude.”

“Was it?” Taehyung finally looked up, amused. “That man thinks that just because I’ve done a few deals with him, we’re somehow equals. Friends, even.”

“Well,” Jungkook said cautiously, “you could’ve just told him you were busy.”

“And let him think we’re on familiar terms?” Taehyung scoffed. “That politician’s filth, Jungkook. He launders campaign funds through offshore accounts and uses my people to keep his skeletons buried. He tries to play noble in public but can’t spend a weekend without girls half his age and cocaine.”

Jungkook didn’t know what to say. He glanced back at the man again. He looked so simple, dressed nicely and all, like he wouldn't even hurt a fly. But who was he to know as much as Taehyung probably knew about the man? 

“It’s hard to believe,” Jungkook admitted.

Taehyung shrugged. “That’s because they hide it well.”

He then looked around the café again, noticing how the staff avoided their eyes, how no one sat near them. He looked back at Taehyung, sitting there in his loose black shirt, hands ringed in silver, eating calmly, the real power play in action.

“They’re all looking at us,” he said eventually. “Isn’t that a problem? Me being seen with you?”

Taehyung sipped his juice. “After Seunghyun’s little stunt, people are going to talk anyway. I'd rather have them think you’re under my protection. No one touches what’s mine.”

Jungkook leaned back in his seat, heart racing at the statement. “You… you do realize how ridiculous this is, right? Like my life is suddenly dependent on you. Next thing I know, I’ll have a bodyguard following me around.”

Taehyung looked amused. “I'm already looking for someone.”

“What?!”

But Taehyung was already answering a call, speaking about business while Jungkook sat there, eating quietly, his brain still trying to catch up with everything.

“Can you drop me off at home?” he asked as they slid into the car, buckling up.

“Of course.” They drove in silence for a while, city lights flashing past.

“You weren’t joking about the bodyguard, were you?”

“No,” came a firm reply. 

“I don’t want it.”

Taehyung frowned at him. “It’s not optional.”

“I’m serious,” Jungkook said, “It’ll just draw more attention to me. People must already be talking about me. I don’t want someone tailing me and making it worse.”

“They won’t be noticeable,” Taehyung tried to explain, eyes still on the road. “You won’t even realize they’re around. Look, for my sanity, just accept it.”

“I don’t want any of this!” Jungkook burst out. “I never asked to be protected, or stalked, or pulled into...whatever the hell this is.”

Taehyung’s jaw tightened, but his voice stayed steady. “And I didn’t think I'd care. But here we are.”

Jungkook blinked at the stern tone his voice took, the mafia boss within him showing up.

“Look, I’m not doing this to control you,” Taehyung sighed, voice going soft again as if he too realized how he'd spoken before. “I’m doing it because I want you safe. You think I like putting men on you? You think I don’t realize how uncomfortable that makes you? But the alternative—” He broke off, glancing at Jungkook, and his expression shifted. “The alternative is moving in. Into my building. Somewhere secure, where I know you’re close. Until this is over.”

“This?” Jungkook asked, wary. “What situation, exactly?”

Taehyung’s fingers tightened on the wheel. “To explain to you in simple terms, I’m cleaning the house, Jungkook. The Kim Empire is being rebuilt, on my terms. I’m purging the ones who are rotten, who’ve betrayed my father, dealt behind my back. It’s messy, bloody, and I don't want anyone to come for you because of me."

He paused for a minute while Jungkook tried to understand just what kind of situation he had landed in. 

“I’ve spent half my life watching people pretend to be loyal while planning betrayal,” Taehyung added. “Apart from my hyungs, you're the only person I’m not trying to second-guess every minute. And you're innocent in all of this, I don't want you getting hurt in anyway again.”

Jungkook looked away, biting the inside of his cheek, unsure how to feel about this.

Taehyung’s voice softened. “Just stay near me. For now. Or let me keep you safe, even if you hate me for it.”

Silence lingered between them again, and before Jungkook could say anything more, Taehyung pulled into a familiar street.

"Of course, you know my address," Jungkook muttered.

Taehyung just smirked before lifting his phone and calling someone. “I’m waiting down here, hyung.”

Jungkook turned sharply. “Who was that?”

But Taehyung didn’t answer; he just smiled.

Moments later, Min Yoongi walked out of their dingy building, and Jungkook’s jaw dropped.

“What the hell is he doing here?!”

“Maybe,” Taehyung laughed “you should ask your best friend Jimin about that.”

-------------------------

Chapter Text

Jungkook opened the apartment door and stepped inside. His mind was still spinning from the car ride with Taehyung, and from something much more confusing at the moment. Like, why the hell had Min Yoongi, Min freaking Yoongi, been at their apartment? He barely removed his shoes when Jimin chirped from the living room.

“Missed me already, baby-” he froze in the hallway, eyes widening when he saw Jungkook standing there, arms crossed.

“Expecting someone else, Jimin?”

“Oh my god—Jungkookie! You’re back!” Jimin dashed forward, reaching out like he wanted to pull him into a hug.

But Jungkook felt a little betrayed, and he stepped away. “Now you remember me.”

Jimin winced. “Okay… ouch. That’s fair.”

He made a beeline for his bed, removing the warm coat that still smelled like Taehyung, plopping down while Jimin followed, fidgeting awkwardly. “So this means you didn’t call, didn’t text, even when you knew what had happened with me.”

“Okay, listen. I know you’re mad, but Yoongi told me about everything that happened and assured me that you were safe—”

“Oh, you’re on a first-name basis now. Great.” Jungkook cut in, rolling his eyes in disapproval.

“Look, I was gonna tell you. But I knew you’d freak out, and I thought you wouldn’t approve.”

“I’d only have suggested staying away, Jimin, but I wouldn’t stop you if that’s what you wanted. A heads up would have been great, though" Jungkook clenched his jaw, a little angry at being kept in the shadows. “Since when did you start keeping things from me?”

At that, Jimin went silent before, “I’m sorry, okay? But I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

"Jimin, I’ve suffered through your ‘Wonho worship phase' even when we both knew he wasn’t good to you. I thought there weren’t any secrets between us, you know?” Jungkook began rummaging through his drawers, looking for something, anything to just keep his mind a little distracted. Jimin got up to him and engulfed him in a hug, then apologized again. He tried his best to shrug him off, but the blonde kept his hold on him tight, murmuring apologies, and a while later, he calmed down a little.

“I wanna hear the whole story now." He glared as he escaped from Jimin's hold and sat up, "How did this even start?”

“That night you went for dinner with Taehyung,” Jimin started, and Jungkook turned to him to glare at him, making Jimin laugh, “yeah, so Hobi and I, we panicked when you weren't responding. So we got into the hotel, sat down, hoping we’d see you somewhere. And then Min Yoongi just... showed up. Told us you were alright and to order anything we want.” He was now spread on the bed beside Jungkook, grinning like a kid who had finally gotten a new toy he'd been eyeing.

“And he’s hot, okay? Like, scar-on-his-face, scary-badass hot.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t just look like a villain, Jimin. He is one. Taehyung said he’s killed someone with chopsticks. Can you believe that?”

Jimin blinked, as if he just realized how terrifying this was “...Like in a fight or during dinner?”

Jungkook didn’t laugh, not understanding why his best friend was not taking this situation seriously.

“Alright, alright,” Jimin waved him off. “So I got his number and we’ve only been texting since then, until we met up yesterday.”

“And hooked up,” Jungkook said flatly, eyes narrowing, before he jumped out of the bed, landing on the floor rather harshly, “Please tell me you didn’t do it in my bed.”

Jimin grinned like the devil he was. “Oh, every surface we could, but I changed your sheets! Promise!”

“Gross. You’re GROSS.” Jungkook shouted before throwing a pillow at Jimin, which he barely dodged.

The blonde just chuckled and flopped back onto the mattress. “Okay, but you—it’s your turn now. You were gone all night. You stayed at Taehyung’s, didn’t you?”

Jungkook cursed something under his breath and collapsed next to him, finally sharing everything that went down. Jimin took the day off from college, and a little while later, Hobi popped into their apartment like he owned the place, and the trio sat down discussing the whole thing over a round of pizzas. It felt good to get it all off his chest, but he also regretted it when Hobi and Jimin began teasing him, asking him to keep in touch with Taehyung. A while later, Jungkook and Jimin began getting ready for their shift at the cafe.

“My refund cheque is dead, though,” he groaned. “Soaked right through, along with my books. This week was one of the worst, honestly.”

“If that check had survived,” Hobi said, “you wouldn’t even need your café job anymore.”

“True,” Jimin said with a smirk. “Or, I don’t know, he could just date the gangster Romeo and live life a little,”

Jungkook sighed. “That’s his money. Not mine.”

By evening, Jungkook and Jimin were walking to their part-time shift.

“You know,” Jimin said casually, “you could give him a chance. He’s obviously into you.”

Jungkook didn’t answer right away. “I just... I don’t know what he wants. He looks at me like... like I’m something to own. What if it’s just physical? What if I’m just a fling to him?”

Jimin looked over and wrapped both arms around him, suddenly, like a clingy koala. “My little hopeless romantic,” he mumbled against Jungkook’s shoulder. “You do what feels right, okay?”

They reached the café a few minutes later, pushing the door open to begin their usual routine. However, once they stepped in, Jimin froze mid-step. “Uh... Jungkook?”

“What now?” Jungkook looked up, and there he was. Kim Taehyung. Sitting at one of the tables, fingers drumming lazily, sunglasses still on, like this was his private lounge.

Jungkook saw him curl a long, ringed finger, beckoning him to come over, and cursed internally. He looked back at Jimin, who just mouthed good luck with both thumbs up. He almost ran there.

“Why are you here?” almost hissing now, “My shift’s about to start and customers are gonna walk in any minute—”

Right on cue, their manager yelled, "Aey, Jeon! Is that your friend? I don’t pay you to chit-chat with your friends here! Move your ass!”

Taehyung's head turned sharply to glare at the man. “Is he always this rude?” he frowned, causing the younger to panic as he remembered what Taehyung had done to Seunghyun.

“Look, just go for now,” Jungkook said, trying to keep his voice steady. “We can meet after my shift, or you can text me, alright? It’s just... not the time right now. I’ve already taken too many days off, and Jimin’s been covering for me.” He stepped away, about to leave, but Taehyung caught his wrist a little roughly, pulling him back until Jungkook bumped against the table.

“I only stopped by to ask for your bank details,” Taehyung said, his voice soft. “I’ll get your refund transferred directly.”

Jungkook froze as he remembered the moment he got that check. Was this supposed to be leverage? Something to hold over his head to make him bend? But then he also remembered this was the man who came to help him, let him sleep undisturbed in his bed. If he wanted to, he could have tried anything, but instead, Taehyung made sure he ate and slept and felt safe. He was confused, torn between suspicion and the strange warmth growing inside him.

“Don’t overthink it,” Taehyung said, removing his shades and stepping closer, standing right in front of him now. “I know that stubborn mind of yours is running wild. But think of it like the money is going where it belongs rather than filling the pockets of some asshole I hate.” He lifted Jungkook’s chin with one knuckle, making him meet his eyes. “This is child's play for me. So please, let me help you.”

Jungkook almost caved right there. It made sense, Taehyung’s logic did. But he needed to be sure this wasn't some trap, needed to hear it out loud. “I want to ask you something,” he said quietly, eyes locked on Taehyung.

“Anything, baby.”

The nickname made his cheeks warm, and when he glanced away, he caught sight of Jimin pressed up against the cafe window till his nose squished, watching like this was a drama. That idiot.

Jungkook turned back to Taehyung. “Is there a catch?” he asked, voice shaking with the fear of the power this man had, how he could make Jungkook bend to his will if he wanted to. “Are you going to hold this over me later? Make me do something for you, or...or sleep with you?”

Jungkook’s heart pounded as he waited for the answer. A part of him desperately wanted Taehyung to say no. But another part, one that had seen what people like him could do, warned him to be careful. With someone like Taehyung, you could never be sure. Taehyung’s expression twisted as he clenched his jaw, trying to rein in his anger.

He stepped in, placing his hands flat on the table, caging Jungkook in without touching him. “Jeon Jungkook, I’ve got a lot of things attached to my name, yeah. But don’t you ever think I’d do that to you,” he said, voice tight, “I’d never use you. Not with money. Not with anything else. I’m doing this because…” he paused as he gazed into Jungkook’s eyes, as if pleading with him to believe, “because I care. That’s it. You don’t owe me anything.”

Jungkook stared at him, throat tight, and let out a slow breath. The knot in his chest finally loosened. Maybe it was okay to believe him. Maybe, even with everything that came with Taehyung, he really was trying to be good to him.

“Jeon!” their manager shouted again, storming toward them. “Why are the tables not set? What is this?”

Jimin came rushing out. “Hyung-nim, I’ll handle it! Just give me a minute.”

But the man was already close, eyes narrowing when he saw how close they were standing. “Take this shit out of my café,” he snapped. “I don’t want to see disgusting behavior like this here.”

Jungkook’s stomach dropped as he saw Taehyung’s face twisting with rage. “Shit,” Jungkook muttered as he reached for Taehyung’s hand immediately, holding him back.

“Your business is not going to collapse because of five minutes. I’d appreciate it if you stepped back and gave us a moment.” Taehyung spat

“How dare y—” the manager started, but the words died on his lips. Because Taehyung calmly pulled his blazer aside and revealed a gun in his holster. Not even threatening the man directly, but simply showing what exactly he was capable of.

The manager’s face drained of color. He took one look at Taehyung, then Jungkook, then the gun. Then back again. And stumbled backward like his life depended on it. Meanwhile, Jimin, utterly unbothered, giggled - actually giggled - and said, “God, I love this drama.”

Once the man disappeared back inside, Jungkook turned to Taehyung, panicked. “God, Taehyung, you’re gonna get me fired.”

“Better to get fired than be around that entitled piece of shit.”

Jungkook scoffed. “That’s ironic coming from you.”

“Difference is,” Taehyung said, a small smirk playing on his lips as he casually adjusted his cuffs, “I can actually back it up.”

He shoved Taehyung toward the sidewalk. “Go. Now. Before someone calls the cops.”

Taehyung walked backward toward his shiny Aston Martin, the car drawing stares from just about everyone on the street. People gawked, and a few even took pictures.

“Send me your bank details, I’ll wait for your text,” he said smoothly. “But just so you know, if I don’t get it by tonight, I might show up again. Maybe shirtless this time, since you seem easier to convince that way.”

“Go away!” Jungkook shouted, red-faced, trying not to laugh.

“Later, baby,” he said with a devil-may-care smirk as he climbed into the car, shot Jungkook a wink like he hadn’t just casually threatened someone earlier, and took off down the street.

By the time they trudged back home, it was nearly 11:30 PM. Jungkook’s back ached, his feet hurt, and he was pretty sure he still smelled faintly of dirty mop water. Their manager had made him scrub the entire cafe before clocking out, a petty revenge for all that happened.

“That stuck-up motherfucker was so mad he couldn’t even yell properly after what happened earlier,” Jimin had snickered on the walk home. “But the gun, though. God, you really are living in a drama now.”

Jungkook just groaned in response, too exhausted to argue. Once he had showered and changed, he flopped on the bed, digging out his phone, blinking at the screen.

Five messages. All from Him.

And Jungkook hated to admit it, but he was starting to look forward to getting in touch with the other man. He smiled a little, “God,” he muttered to himself, “what am I even getting into…” Still, he didn’t delete the messages. He didn’t mute the chat. He just held the phone a little closer. And maybe, just maybe, he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

--------------------

The next morning, Jungkook woke up to a buzz from his phone.

Jungkook squealed into his pillow before he could stop himself. He hated that he liked it. He hated that part of him wanted more. And most of all, he hated that he was already waiting for the next text, even though there wasn’t one for a long time. Maybe Taehyung was busy, he assumed.

He skipped college the whole week, not wanting to go back after all that had happened. He called in sick and let his friends keep him posted on everything. It was rare, but honestly? He needed the break. He woke up late every day, relaxed for once, and spent most of his time at Hobi’s studio. Hoseok had asked for help redecorating, and Jungkook was more than happy to get his hands dirty, painting a few walls, moving furniture around, adding color to the space. It was oddly therapeutic.

He even tagged along with Jimin and Hoseok on a shopping trip. It had been a while since he spent money on himself just because he could. And for the first time in months, his mind felt calm, no stress about bills, loans, or debt. The amount Taehyung had transferred was more than enough to clear everything and still leave him with what felt like a year’s salary. At one point, Hobi suggested something that actually sounded doable. He said they could quit the café by the end of the week, collect their last paycheck, and start helping out at the studio instead.

Jimin could help with the dance classes, and Jungkook could run his art classes full-time. It would be easy, it might pay less than what they earned, but it felt...right. Taehyung hadn't been texting much, probably busy, but he did check in whenever he could.

Even though they’d been texting on and off, it had been 5 days since Jungkook last saw Taehyung at the cafe. Not that he was counting. But since it was the weekend and with Jimin out meeting Yoongi, the quiet in the house felt heavier than usual. Taehyung had been the one initiating most of their texting sessions.

But tonight, Jungkook's fingers twitched. He finally gave in, typed a text before throwing the phone across the bed. The reply, however, was instant.

Right after, a picture popped up, and Jungkook zoomed in. It was a mirror selca, casual but unfair. Like he had no idea how illegal it was to look that good.

Damm okay (deleted)

Stop being so hot wtf (deleted)

Before sending something painfully lame.

Was this man really a mob boss? He could pass for a model or an actor. And all Jungkook could do was gape at his screen like an idiot. Three days it is, then. Maybe Taehyung would come around to meet him again. And this time… Jungkook was actually looking forward to it. He wanted to see Taehyung again. This back-and-forth texting the whole week had felt comfortable and easy to the point that he forgot at times that this was a mob boss he was talking to. But he couldn't deny the fact that Taehyung had his charms, and what harm was there in getting to know him a little?