Speeding Into Trouble || Taekook

31

Jeongguk stood in the alley like sin made flesh—leaning against the brick wall with the kind of casual confidence that made people nervous.

The only light was the flickering streetlamp overhead, casting shadows that twitched and danced behind him like ghosts.

He didn't move when the client approached—just stared with those cold, predator-sharp eyes like he was deciding whether the guy was worth the oxygen he was using up.

The man stumbled forward, sweaty and twitchy, clutching the duffle bag like it might explode. Rookie nerves. Amateur bullshit.

"You're late," Jeongguk said flatly, his voice low and venom-slick. Not loud, but cutthroat clear. The kind of tone that made the hairs on your neck stand like soldiers at gunpoint.

The man flinched so hard he almost dropped the bag. "S-Sorry, man. Ran into some trouble on the way. Got it all though—everything you asked for."

Jeongguk cocked his head slightly, eyes narrowed. "Trouble?"

He looked the man up and down like a cockroach that crawled out of a salad. "Better not be the kind of trouble that leads to sirens showing up at my fucking door."

"N-No, I swear! It's clean. Just some junkies trying to start shit. They won't be a problem anymore," the guy mumbled, clearly trying not to piss himself as he handed over a crumpled envelope like it was made of plutonium.

Jeongguk snatched it from him with a swift flick of his wrist, tearing it open one-handed and scanning the contents like he was reading the man's fate.

"Coke, MDMA, oxy..." he muttered, then stopped, his brow twitching. "Fentanyl. Meth. Synthetic opioids?"
He looked up slowly, voice razor-sharp. "You trying to run a party or a fucking morgue?"

The client stammered, "It's just—the demand's insane right now. People are offering triple. We can—"

"You sure your idiots can handle that?" Jeongguk cut in, voice smooth but laced with violence. "You give a toddler a hand grenade, and they'll chew on the pin. You sure they're not going to blow this up?"

The man looked ready to cry. "Y-Yeah, we can handle it. Promise. No screw-ups. Everything's clean."

Jeongguk stared at him in silence for a beat too long, like he was calculating the cost of dumping a body tonight.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak—

Bzzz.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.

He glanced down, ready to ignore it, until he saw the name flash on the screen:
Tae 🐯💫

The man who could actually kill him—with a smile, a pout, or worse, a sad face.

Jeongguk's expression did a complete 180 in a millisecond. The alley faded. The drugs, the cash, the twitchy fool in front of him? Gone.

He unlocked his phone and quickly typed:

"Sweetheart, I'll call you after some time, okay? I'm almost done here 💜"

He hit send, a small softness tugging at the corner of his lips—dangerously close to a smile.

Then—just like that—he snapped back. The sweetness disappeared so fast you'd think it never happened. He looked back up, eyes like ice dipped in gasoline.

"Like I was saying," he said, voice low, tone darker than the alley around him, "you screw this up, and I'm coming for you. Not your boss. You. I'll personally rip out your spine and gift-wrap it. Got it?"

The man nodded so fast it looked like his head might fly off. "Y-Yeah! Got it. We won't screw up, I swear!"

"Better not," Jeongguk muttered, already dismissing him with a wave of his hand like he was shooing off a stray.