Chapter Text
The car Jungkook knelt behind was still warm, which meant he’d arrived just in time for the midnight meeting. These stupid things were always at midnight, like mob bosses couldn’t meet in broad daylight for fear of their sins being on display under the sun’s spotlight, and it meant that Jungkook’s busiest hours were spent in the freezing cold, waiting and watching and plotting. And so at midnight, he held his hands against the lukewarm metal and waited, watched, plotted for the downfall of the night - the Seoul Snakes.
He was surprised to see so few Snakes patrolling the area. Bangtan were a smaller group, sure, but they were still formidable, gaining a reputation these past few years as organized and ruthless. Their youth worked in their favor, Jungkook surmised, because everyone assumed they were too green to succeed. But their youth also meant they held no long-standing favors, no alliances that would eventually bite them in the ass, no in-fighting between angry members who craved more power. The Snakes held power over Seoul, but Bangtan had wedged themselves along the edges of the city.
Jungkook would admire them if he hadn’t vowed to take down the entire underground. Ah well, maybe in another life.
There was movement inside the warehouse, and Jungkook sprung to attention, every line in his body taut as he pulled out his gun. It had a silencer on it, a long-range weapon he’d fought desperately for, and it was his greatest asset. Five years ago Jungkook had shot his first gun, a pistol held between shaking fingers and pointed at the most evil person he’d ever known, a dom that… well, he was dead now, no use dwelling on spilt blood. He’d killed quite a few people since then, even more now that he could escape into the quiet.
His objective that evening was clear. Lee Hyunseong had been ruthless his entire life, but these past few weeks he’d taken it to another level. When the building operating his illegal gambling den had been discovered by police, he’d burnt the place down - without warning any of the tenants who lived in the apartments above. Jungkook had gotten there too late, just like the fire department. He had found a little girl weeping in a ratty nightgown, her family stuck inside without hope.
She’d been taken away by the Submissive Childrens unit. Jungkook had watched it speed away, the tattoo on his hand itching maddeningly. Lee Hyunseong had gotten away, and the police report had mysteriously been deleted from records.
Jungkook remembered everything: every face, every horrible action, every cruel, heartless decision by dominant men who considered them above the law. And he would make sure Lee Hyungseong would be remembered with a giant hole in his head.
He shifted in his crouch, ready to move into a better sightline, when he felt cold metal against the base of his spine.
“Is little Robin Hood out so soon?”
Shit.
—
Jungkook froze instantly, calculating all the ways he could try to get out of this. A bullet to the neck would be fatal, but could Jungkook move quickly enough to startle the gunman and maybe escape with only a wound? His knives were against his ankles, if he could get one loose and turn quick enough -
“Come on, hands where I can see them.” The gun butted against his skull before pointing back at the soft skin above his spine. “No tricks tonight, sweetheart.”
The voice was unexpectedly musical and bright, the sound of someone young and playful instead of hardened mafia lackeys. Jungkook itched to turn around and determine if they were as inexperienced as their tone suggested, but the nudge of the gun kept him staring straight. His hands lifted, and he heard the man laugh.
“Oh, you’re clever, aren’t you?” Fingers grabbed his right hand and Jungkook flinched as they dug into the soft skin. He hazarded a glance and saw short, well-manicured fingers skimming over his tattooed hand, searching for his designation mark. “That usually means one thing, Robin Hood, but I’ll let you tell us on your own terms.” The man grasped his wrist firmly. “Time to get moving, there will be no shots fired tonight.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Jungkook muttered, standing up on shaky legs and hoping the man didn’t notice. When he turned around, he inhaled sharply in surprise. “You’re not -”
“A Snake?” Bangtan’s Park Jimin smirked, his gun held now against Jungkook’s jaw like a deadly kiss. “No, but we can’t risk you shooting our enemies and blaming us, baby. You’re just as slithery as they are, and you’ll escape into the night.”
“I’m not trying to frame you,” Jungkook said quickly. There was still movement behind them, and Jungkook wondered if he could disarm Jimin and get in the fatal shot. “You can tell them it was me -”
“I’m not telling them anything, sweetheart,” Jimin said, and then he was guiding Jungkook into the darkness. “Come quietly, and maybe we won’t have to get messy.”
“Thought you liked messy,” Jungkook said, handing Jimin his gun when the shorter man held out his hand. “Wasn’t it you who took down the stronghold in Busan five years ago? People said it was a massacre.”
“Aww, you’re a fan?” Jimin grinned. “That’s good, Tae - er, Vante always gets the fanboys, I get jealous sometimes. Make sure to tell him you like my work.” Jungkook faltered for a moment. Vante was known for leaving his calling card - art murals, usually done with blood - and was Bangtan’s main assassin. Jungkook could admire art from afar, but he definitely did not want to be the next subject.
“I think I’ll pass, but send my regards,” Jungkook tried, but Jimin was pulling him by the wrist away from the warehouse, and suddenly the shape of a dark-tinted van was in front of them. “Wait -”
“Up and in, baby!” The door slid open and Jungkook was pushed into the car, his shoulder catching on the door and sending a shock of pain up his arm. “Whoops.” The door slammed behind them, and Jungkook’s eyes tried to adjust in the darkness. Jimin’s blonde hair was like a halo, a fallen angel if there ever was one, and he was kneeling down over Jungkook with two guns held aloft in his hand. Jungkook eyed his own desperately, fingers itching to reach out and grab it.
Their puffs of breath were the only other sound in the car, so they were alone. Jungkook liked the odds, but he would’ve liked them better if it wasn’t Park Jimin.
“So,” Jimin said casually, checking the safety on Jungkook’s gun before placing it on the front seat, far enough from Jungkook’s reach. “Like being tied up?”
Jungkook snorted. “Not my favorite thing, sorry.” Years ago the very thought had made his skin crawl and nausea bubble up in his chest, but he’d hardened himself up enough to appear unaffected. Jimin was watching him carefully for signs, but Jungkook knew he would find none.
“Fine,” he finally said, and then there were zipties in his hands. “Hands out, please.”
“So polite, maybe you like being tied up instead?” Jungkook asked, reaching out his wrists for Jimin to take. “You can ask me nicely for something better, you know.”
“You think five mates isn’t enough to satisfy me?” Jimin asked archly, and Jungkook couldn’t help the way his eyebrows shot up. “What, did you think we weren’t together?”
“An eros?” Jungkook asked warily, alarm bells blaring in his mind. “That wasn’t obvious, no.” There weren’t many non-familial ones these days, at least not in Seoul, and Jungkook couldn’t recall any mafia groups having such a tight, unbreakable bond - families could fight each other, but an eros could not. Bonds were stronger, tougher to break. Jungkook thought traitorously back to thick ropes and swallowed heavily. “And you’re a -”
“You first, baby,” Jimin grinned, tapping Jungkook’s nose. Jungkook glanced cross-eyed towards Jimin’s hand, but his palm and wrist were covered in black fingerless gloves. “Now are you going to tell me what else you’re hiding or are you going to make me search you?”
Jungkook opened his mouth - whether to volunteer the information or say something snooty, he hadn’t decided - but Jimin was already patting up his feet. He came across the knives too soon, and tutted softly. “You’re going to hurt yourself, these are shitty holsters,” he scolded, unwrapping Jungkook’s tattered ankle straps. They’d gone through plenty of wear, but it wasn’t like he could walk into the corner store and buy new dagger holsters. “What else?”
Jimin’s hands crept up Jungkook’s denim-clad thighs, the pressure light and teasing. It made Jungkook want to arch into the hold, and he hated how lonely he’d become that a simple hand against his knee could make him feel wanted. “Nothing,” he said, and then grinned when Jimin laughed. “No, seriously. A gun usually does the trick well enough, don’t you think?”
“And if they disarm you?”
“Chuck a knife and run like hell.”
“Sounds like someone’s got a reckless streak,” Jimin said, patting up Jungkook’s thighs anyways. His hands skimmed over his waist and shoulders, and when he was finally satisfied Jungkook had no more weapons, he sat back on his haunches. “So who was your target?”
“Not you.”
“Yeah, you don’t seem stupid enough for that.” Jungkook did his best to not roll his eyes, but Jimin caught the micro-movement. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re a goddamn idiot, but Bangtan is the wrong target for your supposed ‘crusade’ against the mafia.”
“You know me?” Jungkook simpered. “Maybe you’re my fan.”
Jimin grinned. “I thought you’d be harder to catch, little bird. Maybe you should’ve found someone to watch your back. Even Robin Hood had his merry men, you know.” Jungkook scowled and jerked away when Jimin rubbed his head tauntingly. “Now sit tight in your temporary cage while we wait for everyone to join us.”
“Lee Hyunseong sent an entire building up in flames,” Jungkook said quietly. “He deserves to die, and instead you work with him. You don’t care about innocent lives as long as you benefit?”
Jimin looked like he was going to ignore him, tapping away at his phone with his brows furrowed, but then he sighed and glanced back up. “We care, but your methods of revenge are short-sighted. They’re going to get you killed.”
“Am I about to die?”
“We’ll see, little bird.”
—
Jungkook jerked his head up when the front door opened. “He’s younger than Jae-ssi described,” someone said after a moment, two bright brown eyes peering at him from under curly fringe. “Thought he’d be Jin-hyung’s age with the way Jae-ssi was making him out as some seasoned killer, but he’s so young.”
“You’ve got the wrong guy,” Jungkook tried, widening his eyes in false innocence. “I’m just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Sure, taking a walk at midnight with a silencer,” Jimin snorted. “Completely normal behavior.” The man in front of him grinned wide and boxy, his eyes holding a glint of something sharp and dangerous. Jungkook let his expression fall back into complacency. “Little bird, meet Vante.”
“Fuck.”
“Don’t worry,” the man in front of him cooed, his long fingers reaching up to brush away Jungkook’s bangs. “You’re the kind of art that looks better breathing.”
Jungkook tried not to let out a sigh of relief, but it caught again in his throat as Vante grinned. “For now.”
“Don’t taunt,” a third man said, sliding into the passenger seat. He was larger than both Jimin and Vante, his hair buzzed short against his head. His ears were red from the cold, but it didn’t make him look any less terrifying as he turned around to gaze in the backseat. “In fact, if we’re taking him, someone’s gotta blindfold him. Tie his ankles too.”
Jungkook took in his sharp features and did some mental math. Bangtan were six, and Jimin was the most well-known outside of Vante - both flashy killers, meant to scare in the loudest possible way. But there were four others, and Jungkook had done his homework. This must be RM. “I can just close my eyes,” Jungkook tried as Vante glanced around the car for something to cover his face. “Honestly, I could probably take a nap right now.”
“Shut up or we’ll put you to sleep,” RM said, and when Jimin and Vante came up empty-handed, he sighed and tugged off his tie. “Here, use this.”
Jungkook tried not to recoil as Jimin took it, the familiar shape of cloth enough to send him spiraling on a good day, memories poking at him from the darkest recesses of his mind. “I won’t look.”
“Let’s just make sure, little bird,” Jimin said sweetly, and then warm, stiff material was falling over Jungkook’s eyes. “There, safe and sound.” Another pair of hands wrapped zip ties around his ankles, and he tried his best not to kick out in retaliation. He could not fight his way from three seasoned killers. He could only hope they didn’t discover his secret and use it against him.
A body pressed against his side, warm and comforting. “Close your eyes,” Vante’s deep voice said gently. “You’ll make it there in one piece, we promise.”
Jungkook tried his best not to find comfort in the body heat. “And after?”
There was a pause. “Hyungs will decide.”
—
Jungkook couldn’t sleep, not when his skin crawled incessantly. The bonds around his wrists and ankles were unfamiliar now after years of being alone, and it made him want to twitch away from the unforgiving plastic. The loss of sight was worse though, because now every noise seemed magnified. Vante stayed next to him the entire time, breathing audibly through his mouth with almost melodic precision. Jungkook tried his best to count each breath and mirror it, and tried his best to ignore Jimin’s endless chatter.
“ - he appeared out of nowhere, hyung was right to have me wait back,” Jimin was telling RM animatedly. Jungkook realized belatedly they were talking about him. “They call him Robin Hood, but he’s really more like a mouse, creeping into sight without a sound, small and out-of-sight until it’s too late.”
“They call him that moniker because he drops off bags of stolen money to shelters,” RM said dryly. “Don’t you, kid? Take down mafia group leaders and run off with their cash after a deal? That what you were planning tonight?”
Jungkook stayed quiet, but he’d already given up enough to Jimin, who piped up quickly. “No, tonight was revenge on Lee. Though I’m assuming the money we gave the Snakes would’ve ended up in the hands of the families who died in the fire.”
“We’re killed,” Jungkook corrected softly, trying his best to keep his voice from shaking. “They didn’t die, they were killed. Murdered. Burned to death.”
The cab fell silent. “We’re killed,” Jimin corrected after a moment. RM took a deep sigh, and it echoed across the van.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he scolded, sounding frustrated in Jungkook already. “Revenge makes people make mistakes, you were doing much better flying in and out of situations. Take the money and run next time, don’t create targets.”
“Next time?” Jungkook asked wryly, and Vante next to him chuckled. “Don’t give me false hope.”
“Should’ve thought of that, then.”
The car fell back into silence until Jimin huffed and turned on the radio. Jungkook counted six songs until the car began to slow down and turn down a windy road. “Who’s up?” RM asked.
“Jin-hyung is meeting us out front, he’s not happy.”
“Because of our little bird?”
“Because he hates when we bring home work.” Jimin paused, and his next sentence sounded like he was smiling. “Let him take a look first though, he might change his mind.”
Jungkook hated how ominous that sounded, and he curled in closer until his bound arms were covering his knees. His movement jostled Vante, who reached over to squeeze Jungkook’s ankle. It might have been meant to be comforting, but Jungkook couldn’t tell. A cold-blooded killer was just as likely to be planning how best to cut him apart.
The car came to a stop too soon, and Jungkook took one last deep breath before the door swung open.
“Yah, a call would’ve been nice! ”
“We texted,” Vante said helpfully, and Jungkook shuddered when he realized the man had moved almost silently to kneel in front of him. “We told you we were bringing Suga-hyung a present.”
Jungkook’s blood ran cold, and he flinched when fingers wrapped around his head. “Just taking this off,” Vante murmured, and then the tie fell from Jungkook’s face and those mysterious brown eyes came floating back into vision. “A good kind of present.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Jungkook mumbled in response. Behind them, someone tutted loudly and Vante pulled back. RM and Jimin stood near the open door, and next to them was someone Jungkook knew very well - at least, by appearance.
Kim Seokjin was once Korea’s golden child before he disappeared, only to be found years later a part of the shady underbelly. His influential parents and extended family full of politicians and CEOs and actors couldn’t keep his disappearance a secret, and when he turned up in Seoul one day on the arm of scarred public nuisance only known as ‘Suga’, it caused a bit of an uproar.
Jungkook - and everyone who followed even the slightest bit of celebrity gossip - had heard about how Seokjin’s parents had sent Suga bags of ransom money, only for Seokjin to return it to them personally and telling them no, he had not been kidnapped, and no, he did not need their money. And no, he would not be returning home, because he’d fallen in love and joined an Eros.
A scandal! It had rocked the nation for a week before some starlet got pregnant.
Jungkook knew Seokjin was handsome, but it was different seeing it so starkly visible even as the man stood in a bulky sweater under dim moonlight, hair tangled as if he’d been sleeping. But his eyes were bright and alert as they swept over Jungkook, and he tried not to hide under the searching gaze. “How many times have I told you not to bring prisoners to the house?” He said finally, before sighing and reaching inside the car. “Yah, how are you so young ?”
Jungkook felt fingers curl around his wrist and tug. He stumbled, the ties around his ankle making his movements jilted, and multiple pairs of hands caught him before he could fall out of the car. “ Yah! ” Seokjin repeated, louder now as he glanced down. “Do you expect him to hop?”
“Geez, give us a second,” Vante sighed, leaning down quickly. Jungkook saw the flash of a knife and flinched back, but RM held him tightly and within seconds, his feet were free. “We’re going to keep your arms tied, so don’t try to run.” RM’s hands tightened around his biceps like a promise, and Jungkook nodded quickly. “Alright, let’s go inside.”
RM marched him down a winding path towards a backdoor. Trees surrounded them, but in the distance, Jungkook could see the twinkling lights of Seoul. The house was at least three stories, an older style that seemed warm despite the cement walls, golden light shining through some of the windows. He’d met four members of Bangtan, so there were two left.
“Is Suga-hyung up?” Jimin asked, leading the way down a set of dimly-lit stairs. Behind him, Jungkook felt RM nod. “And J-Hope-hyung?” Another nod, and Jimin clapped his hands almost giddily. “Oh good, you can meet them tonight!”
If he meant for Jungkook to be excited, he was completely off-base. Jungkook’s stomach dropped even as he took shaky steps down the stairs. J-Hope and Suga ran Bangtan, and between the lot, Jungkook would rather take his odds with seasoned killers Jimin and Vante.
At least they didn’t like to play with their food.
—
They set him on a chair and freed his hands. Jungkook massaged his wrists until he noticed them staring at his hand, and then he twisted the sleeves of his jacket over his fingertips. His designation mark had long been hidden beneath inked art, but the gazing still made him feel naked. “When did you get your tattoos done?” Seokjin asked, pulling a matching seat from the wall and sinking down into it. Jungkook stared at his bootlaces to avoid answering. “It’s illegal if you’re under eighteen.”
“I’m not eighteen,” Jungkook answered, and Seokjin laughed.
“Well, that’s a relief. Unless you’re trying to tell me you’re younger?” Jungkook shrugged. “How about a name then?”
“What’s the point if you’re going to kill me?” Jungkook argued. “Doesn’t it make it easier for you to sleep at night if you can make up a name and age? Give me a good backstory, I promise anything will be better than the truth.”
“Mark him down for self-deprecating and sarcastic,” Seokjin sighed. “J-Hope’s two favorite buttons to push. He’ll get a name out of you, but it’ll be easier on us all if you just cough it up to me.” Jungkook shrugged again and earned another heavy sigh, as if Seokjin was an exasperated teacher and Jungkook an unruly student. “Aish, the youth always have attitude!”
“He can’t be that young,” RM said, suddenly kneeling in front of Jungkook and peering up at him. It was a power move, to put himself so obviously in harm’s way - Jungkook could kick him, loop his ankles around RM’s neck and twist, try his hardest to inflict as much hurt as possible in the shortest amount of time - but doing so would only make things worse in the long run. Jungkook stared down at RM’s dragon eyes and fought the urge to look away.
A dominant, surely. So someone Jungkook would actively have to ignore. “He’s been around for what, four years?” RM continued, reaching out to grab Jungkook’s hand. He flinched back, but RM caught it deftly and spread out Jungkook’s fingers, searching for the mark that every child received when their designation manifested. “Eighteen plus four, he’s at least twenty-two if he did this the legal way.” His fingers drew a line up Jungkook’s wrist to his ink-covered forearm. Jungkook didn’t say anything, already working overtime to try to keep as still as possible.
“And that’s if his Robin Hood schtick began the second he turned eighteen,” Jimin pointed out. “Which maybe it did, but what eighteen year old is tatting up and shooting up at the same time?”
“Ones with a chip on their shoulder,” RM said, and then he stood up. “He’s covered his mark.”
“I noticed when I caught him, but he wants to hide it.” Jimin smiled down at him, a gentle lilt to his lips that made Jungkook feel like he was being pitied. “There’s nothing wrong with being a sub, baby.”
“Never said there was, sweetheart,” Jungkook replied just as saccharine. “I just decided whatever I was - or wasn’t - didn’t mean shit to strangers. Plus those things are ugly.” It was a shifty excuse, but they seemed to allow it, because Jimin just cocked his head and took a step back. His hand ghosted over his own wrist, where his mark was still hidden by leather.
“Nothing on me is ugly,” Seokjin said, and then he was getting up to shuffle around the room. “Did we not think to offer him water? My goodness, we’re not heathens .” He handed Jungkook a bottle, but before he could even think to test the cap, the door swung open.
Suga and J-Hope were striking, even in the middle of the night. Suga was made of sharp features on soft angles, dark eyes beneath furrowed brows, the one scar slashing through his left eye only making him more savage, even when it slid over soft, pale cheeks. He looked young in this unforgiving overhead light, but even with mussed-up hair and a hastily swung-on overcoat, he still made Jungkook shiver. It was his hard gaze, or maybe the way his lip pulled up in the semblance of a sneer.
J-Hope, on the other hand, looked ready for battle. His boots were laced to his knees, holster strapped over his black shirt and cinching at the waist. He was all sharp angles, from razor-sharp cheekbones to pointed nose to a smile that cut like a blade. From afar, Jungkook had thought he looked beautiful in a way that made him approachable. Now, being so close, Jungkook thought he looked beautiful in a way that made his breath catch in fear.
“We’re home!” Jimin giggled, jumping onto J-Hope’s arm as if both of them were gleeful school children instead of terrifying mobsters. “And we brought you a gift.” He paused, and then smiled ruefully. “ I brought you a gift.”
“Good job,” J-Hope murmured, kissing Jimin’s forehead even while he kept his gaze on Jungkook. “We were wondering if you’d show tonight.”
“Wish I hadn’t,” Jungkook said truthfully. He felt trapped as J-Hope took heavy steps forward. “I’m starting to think that was a mistake.” There was no doubt the man in front of him was a Dom, but Jungkook’s eyes still fell traitorously to his wrist - the simple X stood out in sharp contrast to J-Hope’s tan, unblemished skin. A switch would have a rounded arrow, while a sub carried a simple O .
The tattoos were small and relatively painless. Everyone got them, and it was a crime to cover it like Jungkook had done for his. A small crime if the delinquent was no one important, so Jungkook made sure he stayed under the importance radar. No one knew his name - no one needed to.
He hadn’t even been trying to garner attention. His first few kills had been shaky attempts at framing enemy gangs, but cameras had caught his shadowy figure taking the money and leaving it on the doorsteps of shelters and food banks and daycares. His Robin Hood moniker had been both a blessing and a curse - he was given a name, but only a temporary one for his enemies to try to destroy.
“You’ve put yourself in some dangerous situations,” Suga said, joining J-Hope’s side. His hands were lax by his side, and uncovered. Jungkook saw the familiar X and tried not to clench his fists.
“So have you.”
Suga’s mouth twitched upwards. “The difference is I have backup. You’re a lone wolf.” He raised an eyebrow and looked Jungkook up and down. “Or maybe more like a cub.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m young,” Jungkook mumbled. “You’re late to the party, we’ve already gone over that.”
“He’s got to be a switch, that mouth on him,” Vante crowed. “You’re like me, baby, you like to live a little dangerously.” He spun over to Jungkook and practically collapsed his weight over Jungkook’s shoulders, breath hot on his cheek. “Tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine, little bird.” His wrist hung over Jungkook’s shoulder, right in his line of vision, and Jungkook could see the telltale circular arrow.
“I’ve heard once someone knows your name, they’re as good as dead,” Jungkook said, feeling his neck grow muggy from Vante’s hot breath against his skin. “I’m not a fan of those odds, sorry.”
“I can make an exception for pretty boys.”
“Fucking hell, are you testing me?” Suga interrupted, eyes flashing at how close Vante was getting - practically on Jungkook’s lap with how he writhed. “Get back over there, he’s not tied up.”
“We wanted to let you do the honors,” Vante cooed, but he moved quickly at Suga’s command, leaving Jungkook suddenly feeling too light and too damp around his jaw. It left him shaky in a way he hadn’t expected.
“It’s an interesting theory to try,” J-Hope said casually, kneeling down similarly to how RM had done earlier, looking up at Jungkook from beneath dark fringe. “A name for a name, surely you’re curious who you’re dealing with.”
“Not really,” Jungkook said, hoping his voice wasn’t as shaky as he felt. “Having your name doesn’t change whether you’re going to kill me, right? And we’re not a fairy tale, guessing mine won’t give you my firstborn.”
J-Hope smiled. “Hmm, it’ll put us on better terms though. I don’t kill my friends, sweetheart.”
“I don’t need friends,” Jungkook said shortly. “Especially ones who deal with people like the Seoul Snakes.”
“He’s on a revenge trip,” RM supplied. “He was after Lee for causing that apartment fire.”
“So we’re not on your hit list?” Suga asked dryly, and Jungkook shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“Aish, give him space,” Seokjin sighed, leaning forward to hand back the bottle of water. “He’s just a kid, we all acted recklessly at one point in our lives. I’m more worried that he looks like he’s about to keel over from exhaustion. Who feeds you, huh?”
Jungkook stared at him over J-Hope’s head. “I feed myself.” He ignored the water, suddenly unsure about the possibility of being drugged. He already felt loopy in the presence of multiple doms and switches - and that was without knowing what Jimin, Seokjin and RM were.
“Well, you could eat more.” Jungkook wasn’t sure if he should be offended by that - he worked out, he had been bulking up this past year, he actually looked way healthier than he had three years ago, when he’d been dropping regularly as his body adjusted to being without a dom. He opened his mouth to argue, but Suga interrupted.
“Leave him here tonight,” he said. “See if he feels like talking tomorrow.”
Seokjin stuttered in indignation. “He’s just a kid! Are we so cruel we can’t offer him a bed? It’s freezing in here, he will -”
“No.”
“He’s not even after us . Joon-ah, talk some sense into him -”
“ Names , hyung!”
“Aish, so he knows a portion of one of our names, what will he do with that, huh? He’s all alone out there, he needs -”
Suga placed his hand on Seokjin’s arm. “Hyung, let’s go upstairs. He’ll be fine here tonight, and you can bring him breakfast in the morning if he feels like being cooperative.” Seokjin opened his mouth, maybe to argue more, but he seemed to visibly deflate and nodded.
Jungkook watched the exchange with interest. Seokjin was obviously deferential - Suga must be the head of the Eros, which meant… well, Jungkook didn’t think any of tonight was good news for him, but it didn’t hurt to file the information away. If Seokjin had a bleeding heart, perhaps he could manipulate the man into letting him go if Suga wasn’t in the room. “Come on, I’ll bring him down a blanket once we’re all upstairs.”
Jungkook wondered if they would leave him untied, but then RM was approaching him with a rope. “Gonna cooperate?” He asked, letting it drop until the end hit the floor with a thud. It looked heavy, but it wasn’t coarse fabric. Jungkook nodded and swallowed heavily, wishing now that he’d gotten that drink of water. RM knelt once again at his feet, wrapping the fabric around his ankles, knotting them to the legs of the chair. He did it with expert precision, the knots tight around him but not cutting off circulation.
“Good?” RM asked after he finished lacing Jungkook’s arms behind his back. Jungkook tested the bonds and found he had little room to move, but RM had left them low enough to allow his shoulders to receive little strain.
“I’ve done better,” he lied. “I could teach you a thing or two.”
RM chuckled, and he was still so close Jungkook could almost feel it reverberate through him. “Sure, baby. Sleep tight.” He tugged the ropes as a reminder, and then laughed at his double entendre, even as Jungkook huffed at the bad joke.
Jimin entered the room as RM exited, exchanging a quick look with the taller man before bounding over to Jungkook, his arms filled with blankets and another water bottle. “Time to tuck you in!” He said happily, throwing the blankets over Jungkook’s lap and uncapping the bottle. Jungkook raised his brow and Jimin sighed. “It’s clean, promise.” He took a long swig and swallowed audibly. “See?”
“You might like getting drugged,” Jungkook argued, but he took the offered drink when Jimin held it up to his lips. He didn’t realize how thirsty he was until he was gulping it down, and Jimin pulled it back after a moment.
“Don’t choke,” he scolded, and then let Jungkook continue drinking when he wordlessly nodded to take smaller sips. “Good boy.”
Jungkook hid his shiver with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Try harder, Jimin-ssi. I know you’re all hoping I’m a sub, because you think I’ll be easier to break.” He looked up with a smug grin. “You’ll find I’m not very breakable.”
“We don’t want to break you for the sake of breaking you,” Jimin said, screwing the cap back on the bottle and letting it fall, just so he could tuck the blankets around Jungkook’s chest. He immediately felt the warmth, and it magnified how cold his face felt. “We think you’re good at what you do, and you have good reasons for doing the things you do.”
“So then what?”
Jimin sighed, tucking the blanket behind the ropes so that Jungkook was cocooned. “You’re not doing things the right way.” He paused, then corrected himself. “The healthy way. And call us bleeding hearts, but our Eros doesn’t like it when sweet little birds destroy themselves slowly.”
“It’s not up to you to decide,” Jungkook murmured. This was what was wrong with an Eros, they always assumed that because they worked so well within their little group, that surely their thoughts must apply to everyone they deemed inferior. “I’m not part of your Eros, Jimin-ssi.”
“You’re part of no Eros,” Jimin said, watching Jungkook’s face for any sign of disagreement. “And you don’t have a partner. You don’t even have friends, baby bird. You hide from everyone, and you hide from yourself.” Jungkook curled his fingers around his wrist, where a small tattoo now hid beneath intricate art, and stared up at Jimin with what he hoped was an unimpressed frown. “That’s going to hurt you one day.”
“So?”
“So it shouldn’t have to.” Jimin pulled back and picked up the water bottle, taking another swig of his own to finish it off. “And I think Suga-hyung is convinced you’ll target us if we let you go, so - here you stay.”
“And if I promise not to?”
“What good is your word if we don’t even know your name?” Jimin smiled, and then he waved and made his way up the stairs, leaving Jungkook alone in the bright, unforgiving lights.