The days in the Kim penthouse unfolded like a quiet storm—subtle but filled with an undercurrent of change. It was almost imperceptible at first, the shift in their dynamic. Miso could sense it in the way Taehyung lingered just a moment longer when they crossed paths, in the way his sharp gaze softened when he thought she wasn’t looking. And Taehyung? He felt it in his own hands, which, against his better judgment, reached out to fix strands of her hair, to guide her gently away from trouble, or to offer her something as simple as her favorite snack.

Neither of them fully understood what was happening, but the transformation in their relationship was undeniable.

That dinner had changed something. For reasons he couldn’t fully understand, Taehyung found himself loosening his grip. It wasn’t just that he enjoyed Miso’s company—he did—but he also began to realize how lonely she must feel, cooped up in penthouse with no one but the staff for company.

Her playful smirk, her cheeky comments, and the way she teased him had a way of disarming him. She was bold, unapologetic, and yet vulnerable in ways that tugged at a part of him he thought was long buried.

That night, after she had cheekily suggested he "take care of his problem" before bed, he had chuckled to himself, both amused and baffled by her audacity. He found himself lying awake, replaying their interactions in his mind. She was a puzzle, one he couldn’t help but want to solve. That night, as Taehyung lay in bed, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

She was getting under his skin, chipping away at the walls he had built so carefully. He knew he should keep his distance, maintain the upper hand. But every time he saw her—whether in her fierce, sassy state or her vulnerable little space—he felt himself being pulled closer.

And the scariest part? He didn’t want to resist anymore.

Miso, on the other hand, lay awake in her room, clutching her plush bunny. She hated to admit it, but Taehyung made her feel... safe. It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling, one she wasn’t ready to confront.

“Don’t get attached,” she whispered to herself.

But deep down, she knew it was already too late.

The next morning, he made a decision.

Taehyung found Miso lounging in the living room, flipping through a magazine. She glanced up when he entered, raising an eyebrow.

“Am I in trouble?” she asked, her tone teasing.

“No,” he replied, sitting across from her. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Uh-oh,” she said, smirking. “That’s dangerous.”

He ignored her comment and continued, “You’ve been wanting more freedom. To go out, do your own thing.”

Her smirk faltered slightly, replaced by a cautious look. “And?”

“I’ll allow it,” he said, his voice firm. “You can go wherever you want, do whatever you want. But there’s one condition.”

Miso tilted her head, intrigued. “What condition?”

“Yang will accompany you everywhere,” Taehyung stated. “As your bodyguard.”

She blinked, momentarily surprised. Of all the conditions she had expected, this was… manageable.

“Deal,” she said quickly, her tone almost too eager.

Taehyung frowned, narrowing his eyes. “You’re agreeing that easily? No arguments? No snarky comments?”

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “It’s not a bad deal. Yang’s cool.”

His frown deepened. Something about her quick agreement didn’t sit right with him, but he let it go.

Unbeknownst to Taehyung, Miso’s willingness to accept the condition had nothing to do with trusting his judgment. The truth was simpler: Yang was her only friend in Seoul.

Since her arrival, Miso had felt isolated. She missed her best friend, Yoongi, terribly, and while she tried to distract herself with little things, the loneliness often crept in. Yang, with his calm demeanor and occasional dry humor, had become a surprising source of comfort.

“Guess you’re stuck with me now,” she teased Yang later that day.

Yang smirked. “I’ve been stuck with you since the day you arrived. This changes nothing.”

She laughed, genuinely amused. “At least you’re good company. Better than the statue I’m married to.”

Yang chuckled but said nothing. He had seen the way Taehyung looked at her, even if Taehyung himself hadn’t realized it yet.

As the days passed, Taehyung found himself in unfamiliar territory. Letting Miso roam freely went against every instinct he had, but he also couldn’t bring himself to cage her anymore.

“Why do I care so much?” he muttered one evening as he watched her from living room. She was outside in the  balcony garden with Yang, laughing as she tried to climb on couches there acting funny.

“You’re going to fall,” Yang warned, standing beneath her with his arms crossed.

“No, I won’t!” she retorted, her tone filled with determination.

Taehyung sighed, rubbing his temples. He hated how much she distracted him. He hated how possessive he felt whenever he saw her smile at someone else, even if it was just Yang.

---

Miso sat cross-legged on the massive living room rug, her pastel bunny plush snug in her arms. She had an assortment of crayons scattered around her, coloring diligently in her book. The sunlight poured in through the grand windows, illuminating her in a soft glow.

She hummed to herself, lost in her little space, oblivious to the world around her. In this state, she felt safe, comforted, and carefree—a far cry from the bold, sassy woman she usually portrayed.

Taehyung entered the living room, his footsteps silent but purposeful. He stopped short at the sight of her. Miso, with her head tilted slightly, her hair falling over one shoulder, and a tiny pout on her lips as she concentrated, was a vision that struck him in ways he didn’t understand.

“Working hard, aren’t you?” His deep voice broke the quiet, startling her.

She looked up, her eyes wide and bright. “Daddy!” she chirped, holding up her drawing. “Look! I made this for you.”

The first time Miso called Taehyung “Daddy” in her little space, he had been too stunned to respond. It had felt strange, almost surreal, to hear such a word directed at him. But now, weeks later, it had become almost… normal.

Taehyung never thought he’d reach a point where anything about little space would feel routine, let alone endearing. And yet, here he was, sitting on the penthouse floor with Miso, listening to her chatter excitedly about her stuffed bunny, all while she addressed him as “Daddy” like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He crouched next to her, studying the stick figure drawing she had painstakingly created. It was crude but endearing, depicting him in a suit holding hands with what looked like a cartoon version of her, complete with bunny ears.

“Is that supposed to be me?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Miso nodded eagerly. “And this is me! See, I even gave myself bunny ears ‘cause you call me ‘Bunny’ sometimes.”

Taehyung’s smirk faded, replaced by something softer. He didn’t even remember calling her that—it must have slipped out during one of their many banters. But seeing it reflected in her innocent drawing made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t explain.

“That’s... accurate,” he said finally, handing the paper back to her.

She giggled, oblivious to the war raging in his mind.

“What am I holding?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the couch.

“A candy! Because you always give me candy,” she said with a matter-of-fact nod.

Taehyung didn’t even remember when he started keeping candies in his pocket, just in case she slipped into little space. It wasn’t something he’d ever done before, but now it felt second nature. He reached into his pocket and handed her a small piece of chocolate.

Miso beamed, her tiny hands eagerly unwrapping the sweet. “You’re the best, Daddy!”

As she popped the chocolate into her mouth, Taehyung leaned back, watching her with an expression that even he couldn’t fully understand. Her innocence in these moments tugged at something buried deep within him. He didn’t want to admit it, but he found himself feeling... protective.

One evening,Miso sat cross-legged on the plush rug, clutching her favorite stuffed bunny, Snowball. Her oversized hoodie made her look even smaller, and her wide, innocent eyes sparkled as she looked up at Taehyung.

“Daddy, snowball says he’s hungry. Can he have some carrot cake?” she asked, holding the bunny up to him.

Taehyung leaned back against the couch, suppressing a smile. “Carrot cake, huh? I’m pretty sure we don’t have any in the kitchen.”

Miso’s lips turned downward into an exaggerated pout. “But Daddy,” she whined, her voice taking on that soft, pleading tone, “ Snowball will be sad if he doesn’t get his favorite.”

Taehyung sighed, shaking his head with feigned exasperation. “Alright, fine. I’ll call Soyeon and ask her to make some.”

Miso’s pout instantly vanished, replaced by a radiant smile. She scrambled to her knees and threw her arms around his neck, her childlike glee so genuine that Taehyung felt his chest tighten.

“Thank you, Daddy! You’re the bestest!”

The word “Daddy” no longer made him flinch. In fact, it almost made him… proud. How had this happened?
Initially, the term had been a source of discomfort. It wasn’t the title itself—he had heard it used in plenty of different contexts—but the way Miso said it, so full of trust and affection, had caught him off guard. He wasn’t used to being seen as a protector or a caregiver, and yet Miso, in her little space, saw him as exactly that.

Now, Taehyung didn’t even blink when she called him “Daddy.” It wasn’t just a name anymore; it was a role he had unconsciously taken on. Whether it was making sure she had her favorite snacks, indulging her in silly games, or staying by her side during her vulnerable moments, he found himself stepping into that role without hesitation.

“She really has me wrapped around her finger,” he muttered to himself one evening after tucking her into bed.

Of course, those around him weren’t as quick to accept this new normal.

Yang nearly choked on his drink the first time he heard Miso call Taehyung “Daddy.” It had been during breakfast, and Taehyung had calmly passed her a plate of pancakes when she said, “Thank you, Daddy!”

Yang’s head snapped up, his eyes darting between the two of them. “Did she just—”

Taehyung cut him off with a sharp look. “Don’t. Say. A word.”

Yang barely suppressed a laugh, leaning back in his chair. “ Sorry…  Miso's Daddy... I mean Sorry Boss.”

Taehyung glared at him, but Yang’s smirk only grew wider.

Even Soyeon, who had seen plenty of strange things in her years working for Taehyung, couldn’t hide her shock. She walked into the living room one day to find Taehyung sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding a tiny tea cup as Miso served him imaginary tea.

“Here you go, Daddy!” Miso chirped, placing a plastic saucer in front of him.

“Thank you, my cute bunny,” Taehyung replied, his tone completely serious.

Soyeon stood frozen in the doorway, blinking rapidly as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. When Taehyung noticed her, he raised an eyebrow. “Do you need something, Soyeon?”

“N-no, sir,” she stammered before hurrying away, her laughter barely contained.

Over time, the word “Daddy” became more than just a name in their strange, evolving relationship. It became a symbol of the trust and bond they were slowly building—one that neither of them fully understood, but both were beginning to accept. For Taehyung, it was a role he never expected to play, but one he found himself embracing wholeheartedly. And for Miso, it was a sign that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she thought.

-----

Yin and Yang had been with Taehyung long enough to recognize every nuance of his personality. They knew his moods, his quirks, and his limits. So, when they started seeing him indulging in Miso’s whims—particularly her little space—it was both shocking and entertaining.

Yang, the stoic and composed one, found himself suppressing a smirk every time he saw Taehyung crouching down to hand Miso her favorite stuffed animal or playing along with her requests in little space. One afternoon, while they were in the balcony, Taehyung was sitting cross-legged on the floor, helping Miso stack colorful blocks for a tower. Miso clapped excitedly when the tower stood tall, and Taehyung actually smiled—an expression that was foreign to Yang in all his years of knowing him.

Later, when Taehyung walked back inside, Yang couldn’t resist.

“You know,” Yang started, his voice calm but tinged with amusement, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to win some kind of father-of-the-year award.”

Taehyung shot him a glare. “You’re walking a thin line, Yang.”

“I’m just saying,” Yang continued, feigning innocence. “It’s a new look for you, boss. Playing with toys, entertaining stuffed animals… What’s next? Dressing up as prince?”

Taehyung narrowed his eyes, his tone clipped. “Do I pay you to comment on my personal life?”

Yang shrugged, his lips twitching in a barely-contained smile. “No, but I think the entertainment’s free.”

Yin, on the other hand, had a slightly different reaction. As someone who had seen the coldest, darkest sides of Taehyung, he found this softer version refreshing—though no less shocking.

One evening, after Taehyung had spent nearly an hour calming Miso during one of her little space episodes, Yin leaned over to Yang and whispered, “Do you think he’s under some kind of spell?”

Yang smirked. “If he is, it’s a strong one. I’ve never seen him this patient.”

They both glanced at Taehyung, who was sitting beside Miso, quietly holding her hand as she fell asleep. The sight was so out of character that Yin shook his head. “Whatever it is, I hope it lasts. It’s good for him.”

Soyeon had been working at the penthouse for years, and she had seen all kinds of people come and go. But nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Taehyung sitting at the dining table, feeding Miso spoonfuls of soup while she pouted like a child in little space.

Standing in the corner of the room, Soyeon nearly dropped the glass she was holding.

“Is this really happening?” she muttered under her breath.

When Taehyung noticed her staring, he raised an eyebrow. “Problem, Soyeon?”

“N-no, sir!” she stammered, quickly looking away. But as soon as she left the room, she burst into a fit of laughter, clutching her stomach.

Later, while cleaning the living room, she couldn’t resist mentioning it to Yang. “Do you think he’s been body-snatched?”

Yang snorted. “If he has, whoever did it deserves a medal.”

Soyeon giggled. “I mean, it’s cute, but also… weird. Who would’ve thought the great Taehyung would be so whipped?”

Yang smirked. “Careful. If he hears you say that, you’ll be looking for a new job.”

One day, Yang walked into the living room to find Taehyung crouched on the floor, helping Miso color in a children’s book.

“Boss,” Yang said, clearing his throat to announce his presence.

Taehyung looked up, his expression calm. “What?”

Yang hesitated, glancing between the two of them. “You… uh… need anything?”

“No,” Taehyung replied, picking up a pink crayon and adding to Miso’s drawing.

Yang smirked. “Alright then.”

Later, when Yang recounted the scene to Jimin over drinks, Jimin nearly spit out his whiskey.

“He was coloring? Kim Taehyung? The same Taehyung who once made a man beg for mercy in less than five minutes?”

“Yes,” Yang confirmed, chuckling.

Jimin shook his head in disbelief. “She’s turned him into a babysitter.”

One day, When again Jimin and Namjoon heard about Taehyung’s recent behavior, they were, unsurprisingly, skeptical.

“Wait,” Jimin said during one of their rare bar hangouts. “You’re telling me Taehyung played hide-and-seek? Taehyung?”

Yang, who had been the one to relay the story even though yin many times warned him to not , nodded, clearly enjoying their disbelief. “Not just hide-and-seek. He also agreed to wear a silly paper crown because she said he was the ‘king.’”

Jimin doubled over in laughter, nearly spilling his drink. “This is gold. I need to see this with my own eyes.”

Namjoon, ever the calm observer, raised an eyebrow. “He’s really changed, hasn’t he?”

Yang shrugged. “You could say that. But it’s only when she’s around. With everyone else, he’s still the same old Mafia King.”

Jimin shook his head in amazement. “I never thought I’d see the day. What’s next? Is he going to start baking cookies with her?”

Unbeknownst to them all, Taehyung was well aware of their reactions. He could see the barely-hidden smirks, hear the whispers behind his back. And though it annoyed him, he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“She’s different,” he muttered to himself one evening, sitting alone in his study. “And I don’t know why I care so much.”

He thought about how he had started doing things he’d once considered beneath him—things like playing with stuffed animals or indulging her childlike whims. It was ridiculous, and yet, he couldn’t deny the strange pull she had over him.

“She’s turning me into a joke,” he grumbled, though there was no real anger in his voice. If anything, there was a hint of amusement.

Over time, Taehyung learned to navigate Miso’s little space. It wasn’t always easy; her demands were often bizarre and, frankly, exhausting. But no matter how strange they seemed, he found himself indulging her every time.Despite the teasing, the confusion, and the sheer absurdity of the situation, one thing was clear to everyone: Miso had managed to do something no one else ever had. She had brought out a side of Taehyung that was human, vulnerable, and, dare they say it, soft. And while the world around him struggled to understand this change, Taehyung himself was slowly coming to terms with the fact that Miso was, in every sense of the word, is becoming his only weakness.

★★★

One evening, she had insisted on having a “tea party.”

“Daddy, you have to sit here,” she said, patting the carpet beside her. She had set up a makeshift tea set, complete with tiny cups and saucers that she’d somehow procured from who-knows-where.

“You’re kidding,” he’d said flatly, staring at the miniature cups.

“Snowball doesn’t like it when people are late,” she replied, holding up her plush bunny as if it were scolding him.

He’d sighed but lowered himself to the floor anyway. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath, but the way her face lit up when he picked up one of the tiny cups made it worth it.

“See? Snowball likes you now!” she declared, pouring invisible tea into his cup.

Taehyung had played along, pretending to sip the imaginary tea, and before he knew it, they were laughing together, the room filled with a warmth he hadn’t realized he was missing.

As time went on, Taehyung began to anticipate her needs in little space. He stocked the pantry with her favorite snacks, made sure her plush toys were always within reach, and even downloaded a playlist of lullabies on his phone.

He found himself doing things he would have scoffed at just weeks ago. He once spent an entire afternoon building a pillow fort because she insisted that her “castle” needed protection from “monsters.”

“Monsters?” he had asked, raising an eyebrow.

She had nodded solemnly. “They only come out at night. But if we have a strong castle, they can’t get in.”

So there he was, the mighty mafia king, carefully arranging pillows and blankets into a makeshift fort while she supervised from her spot on the couch.

“You missed a spot,” she said, pointing to a gap in the pillows.

“Do you want to build it yourself?” he’d replied, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“Nope. You’re better at it,” she’d said with a cheeky grin.

And despite his grumbling, Taehyung had finished the fort to her exact specifications, even adding a flashlight inside because she didn’t like the dark.

The days passed in a strange rhythm, filled with small moments that neither could ignore.

One evening, Miso had slipped into little space during dinner. She refused to eat, claiming her spoon was “lonely.” Taehyung, instead of dismissing her, calmly placed another spoon beside hers.

“There. Problem solved,” he said, his tone neutral, but his actions spoke volumes.

Miso had stared at him, her big eyes filled with surprise and something she didn’t want to name.

Another day, she wanted to build a Lego castle. Taehyung had grumbled under his breath but sat on the floor with her anyway, carefully following her instructions.

“Daddy, the roof goes here!” she said, pointing excitedly.

“Why do I feel like you’re bossing me around in every aspect of life?” he teased, placing the piece where she indicated.

“Because I am,” she replied with a mischievous grin.

What surprised Taehyung the most wasn’t how much he was willing to do for Miso—it was how much he didn’t mind doing it.

Her little space brought out a side of him he didn’t recognize, a softer, gentler version of himself that he hadn’t known existed. He found himself smiling more, laughing more, and, most importantly, caring more.

One evening, she had fallen asleep on the couch, clutching her bunny plush. He had draped a blanket over her, his fingers lingering on her cheek for a moment longer than necessary.
Even Taehyung couldn’t fully understand his behavior. He wasn’t the type to indulge anyone, let alone participate in childish games. But with Miso, it was different.

“Why do I keep doing this?” he muttered to himself one night as he tucked her into the pillow fort she had insisted on sleeping in.

Miso, half-asleep, mumbled, “Because you like me.”

He froze, staring down at her peaceful face. Did he?

He didn’t have an answer. All he knew was that he couldn’t bring himself to say no to her, no matter how absurd her requests were.

“She’s turning me into a fool,” he muttered to himself, but there was no malice in his words.
---

Taehyung couldn’t understand himself anymore.

He had always been a man of control, a master of his emotions. Yet, when it came to Miso, all his carefully constructed walls seemed to crumble. It wasn’t just her bold, sassy personality that challenged him—it was the duality of her.

The woman who could stand toe-to-toe with him in an argument was the same woman who clutched a plush bunny and pouted when her crayons broke. It was maddening, confusing, and strangely magnetic.

“Why do I care so much?” he muttered to himself one night, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

He thought back to all the moments when he had gone out of his way for her. Stocking up on her favorite snacks. Sitting through an entire cartoon marathon just because she wanted company. Even ensuring Yang was always by her side when she left the house.

“I’m not supposed to feel this way,” he told himself. But even as he said it, he knew it was a lie.

---

Miso wasn’t faring much better.

Miso sat cross-legged on the couch, flipping through her sketchbook as Yang sat across from her, scrolling on his phone.

“Yang,” she said, breaking the silence.

He looked up. “Yeah, Miso?”

She frowned. “Have you noticed Taehyung acting… weird lately?”

Yang raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Weird how? Weird like the man who terrifies half the country has started bringing you strawberry milk when you’re in your little space?”

Miso’s cheeks flushed. “He did that once,” she muttered, glaring at her sketchbook. “And that’s not what I mean. He’s just… different. He doesn’t yell as much. He doesn’t try to control every little thing I do anymore. It’s… confusing.”

Yang shrugged, leaning back. “Maybe he’s just tired of fighting with you all the time.”

“Taehyung? Tired of fighting? Please,” Miso scoffed. “The man lives to argue with me.”

Yang chuckled. “Fair point. But maybe you’re getting under his skin. You’re not exactly easy to ignore.”

Miso fell silent, her pencil hovering over the page. She hated to admit it, but there were moments—fleeting, rare moments—when she felt safe around Taehyung. When he looked at her during her vulnerable times, not with judgment or disdain, but with something softer.

She shook her head, as if trying to dispel the thought. No. This is just temporary. It doesn’t mean anything.

Taehyung’s recent behavior was throwing her off balance. He was still the same cold, arrogant mafia king in many ways, but there were cracks in his armor that she hadn’t expected to find.

Like the way he would gently place a blanket over her shoulders when she fell asleep on the couch. Or the way he indulged her whims without complaint, even when they made no sense to him.

She hated to admit it, but his presence was comforting, especially when she slipped into her little space. There was something grounding about him, something that made her feel safe in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

But the thought of relying on him, of letting herself care for him, terrified her.

“Don’t be stupid, Miso,” she whispered to herself one night, hugging her plush bunny tightly. “He’s just playing nice. He doesn’t really care.”

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t true.
Miso couldn’t deny that her perspective on Taehyung was shifting.

She still found him infuriating, still loved to push his buttons. But there were moments—like when he gently guided her out of harm’s way or indulged her quirks—that made her heart flutter in ways she didn’t want to admit.

She told herself it was nothing, just a passing phase. But deep down, she knew better.

---

Taehyung found himself drawn to her in ways he couldn’t explain.

Was it her innocence when she was in little space? Or her fiery boldness when she wasn’t? He didn’t know. All he knew was that she had a way of making him feel things he hadn’t felt in years—if ever.

And it wasn’t just attraction. It was something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to name.

Taehyung sat in his study, staring at the documents spread across his desk. But no matter how much he tried to focus, his thoughts kept drifting to Miso.

His jaw tightened as he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. This wasn’t like him. He was supposed to be cold, calculated, and in control. But Miso had a way of breaking down his walls, piece by piece, without even trying.

He hated it. And yet… he didn’t.

Taehyung couldn’t deny it any longer. He was drawn to her. He just didn’t know why. Was it her fiery spirit, the way she never backed down from a challenge? Or was it her innocence, the way she retreated into her little space, clutching her stuffed animals like the world outside couldn’t touch her?

Whatever it was, it had a hold on him.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

“Come in,” he said, his voice sharper than he intended.

Yang stepped inside, his expression casual. “Boss, just a heads-up—Miso wants to go shopping tomorrow.”

Taehyung frowned. “Shopping? Alone?”

Yang smirked. “With me, of course. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Taehyung’s frown deepened. He didn’t like the idea of Miso going out without him, even if Yang was with her. But he knew better than to try to stop her. Not anymore.

“Fine,” he said reluctantly. “But don’t let her out of your sight.”

Yang gave him a lazy salute. “Got it, boss.”

As Yang left, Taehyung sighed, rubbing his temples. He didn’t know when he’d started caring about her safety so much, but there was no denying it now.

Over the next few days, the pattern continued. Taehyung and Miso spent more time together—mostly unintentional, but neither seemed to mind.

Miso still sassed him at every opportunity, her sharp tongue never failing to challenge him. And Taehyung, in turn, found ways to get under her skin with his smug remarks and possessive tendencies.

But beneath the banter, something deeper was growing.

Taehyung found himself smiling more when she was around, though he’d never admit it. And Miso, despite her protests, felt safer in his presence than she cared to acknowledge.

One evening, as they sat on opposite ends of the couch, Miso glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

“You know,” she said casually, “for someone who hated the idea of this marriage, you’re awfully invested in making sure I’m okay.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Don’t flatter yourself, princess. I’m just making sure my investment doesn’t get damaged.”

Miso rolled her eyes. “Investment? Wow. Romantic as ever.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’d prefer I write you poetry?”

She snorted. “Please. I’d die of secondhand embarrassment.”

Taehyung chuckled, shaking his head. She always had a way of keeping him on his toes.

---

Despite their growing closeness, they still bantered like enemies.
Taehyung had begun to push boundaries, teasing Miso with his unexpected flirtations, dropping double entendres in the middle of conversations, and giving her intense, lingering looks. He wasn’t used to being this... playful, but something about her—her strength, her sharp wit, her ability to throw back his teasing without a flinch—drove him wild in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

And Miso? She wasn’t backing down either. Her sass had only gotten sharper, more cutting. She wasn’t about to let Taehyung think she’d be easily charmed just because he flashed her a smile or made a suggestive comment. Her walls were still firmly in place.

It was a bright and early morning, and the sun was peeking through the windows of the penthouse. Miso was already at the breakfast table, munching on toast, her eyes glued to her phone as she scrolled through messages from Yoongi.

Taehyung entered, his presence dominating the room as usual. He casually pulled out a chair and sat down across from her, his gaze not leaving her for a second.

“You’re up early,” he remarked, his voice low and smooth.

Miso looked up, her gaze narrowing. “What’s the matter? You think I sleep in all day or something?”

He leaned back in his chair, a sly smirk playing on his lips. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in bed all day,” he said, his words carrying an unspoken meaning.

Miso rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small flush that crept up her neck. She wasn’t about to let him see how he affected her, though. “Please, don’t flatter yourself. I bet you’d be the type to snore loudly and hog all the covers.”

Taehyung chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You wouldn’t mind. I’m very generous in bed. I’ll let you have the covers... If you want.”

Miso shot him a pointed look, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “How noble of you, King Taehyung. You sure know how to woo a woman.”

He leaned forward, his gaze turning intense. “It’s not about wooing, Miso. It’s about giving you what you need. And believe me, I know exactly what you need.”

Her breath hitched for a moment, but she quickly recovered. “You’re delusional if you think I need anything from you.”

Taehyung’s smirk widened, his gaze lingering on her lips for just a fraction of a second too long. “You might not admit it, but I know you feel it. The tension between us.”

Miso scoffed, breaking their gaze. “You’re really full of yourself, huh? I’m just here for my breakfast, not your ego trip.”

“Don’t worry,” Taehyung teased, “I’ll make sure you get exactly what you need… including breakfast.”

Later that evening, they were seated at the dinner table, the tension between them thickening with every passing second. Miso was in one of her moods, her usual sassy self on full display. Taehyung, ever the observant one, couldn’t help but prod at her, just to see her reaction.

“So,” he started, his voice casual but with a glint of something mischievous in his eyes, “how was your day?”

“Same as always,” Miso replied, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I spent most of it avoiding you. You know, the usual.”

Taehyung chuckled, clearly amused. “Avoiding me? Miso, I thought you liked when I’m close. You can’t seem to stay away.”

Miso snorted. “Please. You’re just a walking ego boost. I’m only here for the free food.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? I’d think someone like you would appreciate the finer things in life... like me.”

“Finer things?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re as fine as a rock in a shoe. I’d rather not deal with you, thanks.”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve compared me to something uncomfortable,” Taehyung said, leaning back in his chair, his expression serious now. “Are you sure you’re not secretly in love with me?”

“Are you sure you're not secretly delusional?” Miso shot back, not missing a beat.

Taehyung chuckled darkly, leaning in toward her, his voice dropping lower. “You know, you’re so feisty when you’re like this. It’s kind of... endearing.”

Miso glanced at him, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Endearing? Are you trying to butter me up for something?”

“No,” Taehyung replied smoothly. “But I can see why you might think that. I just want you to know that I’m not always the jerk you think I am.”

“Oh really? That’s a first.” Miso raised her glass, taking a slow sip, her eyes never leaving his. “But nice try. Maybe when pigs fly, I’ll believe you.”

Taehyung’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “Well, if I were you, I’d start building a pigsty, because I think the air’s about to get pretty thick around here.”

“You and your metaphors,” Miso said with a roll of her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at her lips. “You’re really persistent, aren’t you?”

“I like a good challenge,” he said simply, his gaze flicking down to her lips before locking onto her eyes again. “And you, Miso, are the challenge I’m more than willing to take on.”

One afternoon, they found themselves in the garden. Miso was sitting on the edge of the stone bench, glancing at her phone. Taehyung appeared, walking briskly toward her with that same cool confidence.

“You know,” Taehyung started, leaning against the tree with his arms folded, “you really ought to stop sitting in the sun like that. You're going to get wrinkles.”

Miso glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh really? I was just thinking how I could use more wrinkles to match your personality.”

His smirk deepened, and he took a few steps toward her. “You think I have a bad personality?”

“No,” she said with a dry tone, “I think it’s like a rotten apple—appealing on the outside, but unpleasant when you get to the core.”

Taehyung chuckled, sitting down beside her. "I like how you think, Miso. But I must warn you," he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping, "being so savage might give me the wrong impression. You know, I might think you're secretly into me."

Miso rolled her eyes dramatically. "Please, like I’m going to fall for you, Mr. ‘Too Cool for School.’ You’re about as charming as a wet sock."

He raised his eyebrows, clearly amused. “A wet sock, huh? That’s harsh. What happened to all that 'I’m too cool to care' attitude?”

Miso’s lips curled into a playful grin. "It’s not the sock that’s wet, it’s your charm that’s missing the mark."

He smirked and nudged her gently with his elbow. “Maybe I’ll just have to make it up to you then. You know, I’m good at winning people over.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Miso shot back. “Just add a bit more hair gel and you’ll be unstoppable.”

Taehyung leaned back, hands behind his head, eyes twinkling. “If only you weren’t so stubborn, I might actually start enjoying these little banters.”

Miso glanced at him, her expression teasing. “Maybe if you weren’t so annoying, I might enjoy them too.”

One night, after dinner, the two found themselves in the quiet of the living room. Miso had been reading a book while Taehyung was handling some business matters on his laptop. The silence was comfortable, but Miso, ever the one to stir the pot, decided to break it.

“So, Mr. Mafia,” she started, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “how’s business going? Did you ruin any lives today?”

Taehyung didn’t look up from his laptop but his lips curved into a small, amused smile. “Not today. But I’m sure I’ll make up for it tomorrow. How about you? Ruined anyone’s self-esteem today?”

Miso’s eyes narrowed. “The only self-esteem getting ruined around here is yours. And let me tell you, it’s not pretty.”

“Is that so?” Taehyung looked up finally, his eyes locking onto hers. “You do have a way with words, Miso. It’s almost as if you’re trying to hurt my feelings. Too bad, though. I don’t have any.”

She raised an eyebrow, eyes glinting with challenge. “That’s funny, because I was pretty sure your ego is as fragile as glass.”

He leaned back in his chair, clearly entertained. “You really think you can break me that easily? I’m not some little boy you can push around.”

Miso smirked, clearly enjoying the banter. “Oh, I’m not trying to break you, Taehyung. I’m just here to make you more interesting.”

“I’m plenty interesting,” Taehyung shot back, his tone low but teasing. “But I guess I have to thank you for being the only one who can keep me on my toes.”

“Well, someone has to. Your ego can only take you so far,” Miso said with a wink.

Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh softly. Despite everything, despite the constant back and forth, he was beginning to realize how much he enjoyed these exchanges. No one else had the audacity to challenge him the way Miso did.

It was maddening. And yet, he couldn’t get enough of it.

No matter the time of day, no matter the situation, Taehyung and Miso always found themselves in a playful battle of wits. They were both stubborn, both sharp, and neither one willing to give an inch. They bickered, they teased, they fought—but something deeper was slowly starting to brew beneath the surface, something neither of them was ready to admit yet.

For now, though, they continued their game. And neither one of them was willing to lose.

But beneath the surface of their bickering was an undeniable connection—a bond that neither of them could fully understand or resist.

And as the days turned into weeks, one thing became clear: They were no longer just two people forced into a marriage of convenience. They were something more, something undefined but undeniably real.

And neither of them was ready to let it go.

______________________________________

Author's Note:

Well, well, well! Look who’s finally melting the ice king himself—Kim Taehyung! Honestly, who would’ve thought that the cold, brooding mafia boss would be caught wearing a metaphorical apron in little space territory? If this doesn’t make you love him more, I don’t know what will.

But let’s not forget our queen, Miso, who’s out here sassing her way through his walls like a pro. The bantering, the sass, the soft Taehyung moments—it’s a whole rollercoaster, isn’t it? And let’s talk about everyone else’s reactions. I mean, Yin and Yang practically deserve an award for holding it together (or trying to), and Soyeon? She’s all of us, trying not to laugh while witnessing Taehyung’s transformation.

Also, can we take a moment to appreciate the fact that even when Taehyung is trying to be soft, he’s still a possessive menace? He really said, "You can do whatever you want—but only if Yang tags along!" Classic Taehyung.

So, what’s next for this chaotic duo? More banter? More sass? Or maybe some unexpected feels? (Oh, you know I’ve got plans!) Let me know your thoughts on this chapter—especially whose reaction to Taehyung’s behavior you found funniest!

As always, thank you for reading, and don’t forget to hit that vote button if you’re enjoying the story. Your support keeps me going (and helps me write even more savage Miso and flirty Taehyung moments).

Until next time,
Your chaos-loving author,
StarlitWings