❪ 永遠に光れ ❫ fluff comfort est. rs taehyun x f!reader 707 cw ノ periods symptoms (hormonal) and cramping mention, crying, not proofread 〃 @starryterry ⸝⸝⸝ just know tae would be the sweetest while ur on ur period and he is such an attentive and acts of service type of boyfriend :( / 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄
All it takes is Taehyun making eye contact with you after he walks in the door for you to burst it into tears.
You're not crying because he didn't kiss you before he left for work, or because you haven't seen him in twelve hours, or even because of the petty argument that kept circling in your head the hours he was gone. The reason for your tears is ridiculous.
Taehyun looks incredibly cuddly, but you're not sure you can tolerate anyone touching you right now. That is what tips your emotions over to their breaking point. Your body wants him closer while your mind screams at the thought.
How cruel is it that you would get your period on one of Taehyun's longest work days? You don't have the energy to greet him at the door like usual. You can't surprise him with a delicious dinner or a spontaneous date. The only sight he's greeted with when he comes home is you in your pyjamas fighting off how overwhelmingly miserable everything feels right now.
He must be exhausted too, but he still smiles at you.
That makes it even worse, because god, Taehyun has always been too good for you. At least, that's the thought your brain takes absolutely no time in jumping to.
"What's wrong?" his voice is soft and sweet. He's still smiling as he sets his bags down and finds his way to the couch you've been lying on for the past two hours. He doesn't seem concerned at the sight of your tears, as if he can tell they aren't indicative of anything horrible happening right now.
You think Taehyun must have some magical ability to know exactly what you're emotions mean. At a glance he can always tell whether your frustration stems from something he did or something so far removed from you both; whether your tears have just come on spontaneously because of your hormones or whether it's more serious. Taehyun always reads you like it takes no effort at all.
"Do you want me to touch you right now?" comes Taehyun's next question. It's patient and non-judgemental towards whatever your answer might be. Your stomach twists when you look at him. The earlier repulsive feeling that the thought of being touched had surged up dissipates with one look, as if your mind and body are realizing who is standing before you.
"Please hold me," you tell him after a moment. He doesn't hesitate in pulling you into his arms, wiping your cheeks with his hands and wrapping you safely against his chest. It feels like instant relief—and not just for you.
It isn't a secret how much Taehyun misses you during lengthy work days. The longing lives in his eyes, clear to anyone who knows the look of it. He knows you started your period today. He has a tracker for it on his phone. Even when you don't tell him, he knows.
They've been more strenuous on you lately, combining with outside stress factors and your body deciding to wage war on you. Lighter flow, but heavier cramps that last multiple days. You're sick of it. Taehyun wishes he could fight it off for you. Unfortunately, he's powerless in this situation.
"Did you warm up your heat pack?" he asks, rubbing your back up and down. You shake your head against his chest, face buried against his hoodie.
"I'll get it for you," he offers, starting to pull away. You cling to his hoodie firmly and tug him back as forcefully as you can. He smiles.
"No? I can't take care of you if I can't get up, sweetheart. My hug does nothing to help your cramps."
"It does help," you insist. Taehyun could argue that from a scientific perspective, him holding you does nothing to relieve the pain. You could argue back that from a psychological standpoint, his hug does much more than a heat pack ever would. You would both be right, and as usual, you would win the argument easily.
Taehyun stays on the couch with you half lying on top of him. Despite your cramps, it's the most comfortable you've felt all day. There is nowhere you feel safer than in his arms.
i actually can't with this man, he's actually the biggest baby but also biggest tease?
he would baby you all of the time, pinching your cheeks and kissing you all over your face
but then he will also pout if you don't give him the same treatment, the pout will leave once you give him a kiss and cuddle him
so he is obviously very affectionate, but he knows when to be serious and turn it down a notch, which mainly occurs with other people around/in public
but at the same time i can also see him not caring and just doing whatever, it really depends on his mood, the setting, and who he's with
very very vey big on fashion, meaning, he would love to style you, or you ask his input on your outfit, it will make him so happy
i could see him also liking it when you guys match, but very subtle like having the same shoes, same general color scheme, sharing accessories
he's such a flirt, will never ever miss out on an opportunity to make you blush, it's one of his favorite things ever
loves kissing you, cheek, forehead, hands, but especially lips
will also buy you anything your heart desires, you will not be touching your wallet around him
he's so boyfriend omg
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ soobin
he's the sweetest and cutest thing ever
he would definitely be into a more cliché romance. the type you see in dramas, he really is a hopeless romantic
we all know he can get really shy and flustered, so in the beginning of your relationship he was like that all of the time, always giving you his shy smile
now he still does shy up, but it's really when you initiate physical contact like giving him kisses and hugs
he would love sharing clothes with you, thinks you look adorable with it being big on you
big on cuddling and physical contact even if he does become shy
when he initiates it he doesn't really become shy, it's really just when you do it
he would love back hugs with him resting his head on yours or your shoulder
and would love hugging you and spinning around, he thinks it's the cutest thing
he's learn to just ignore his members when they tease him, to the point where he doesn't even care, he will continue laying in your lap with anyone present
loves loves loves holding hands, he likes how his is a bit bigger than yours
he's your biggest supporter for sure, always right behind you for everything you do
he always acts like a teenager in love, everyone can see how happy he gets when you walk into the room
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ beomgyu
okay so this man is the absolute love of your life, but also a literal clown
he's so goofy omg, but he's such a brat sometimes
i can promise you that boredom is never a thing when your with him
he's such a tease too, always laughing and giggling with or at you, but not in a mean way, he knows when to stop
your laugh is his medicine, like he loves making you laugh, it's one of his favorite things
his ego would go through the roof too like "omg i just make you laugh, i'm the funniest person ever"
he loves cuddling but he can also not sit still for the absolute life of him, so you two laying in bed means someone is rolling off of the bed (like he will start jumping on the bed and won't stop until you push him off, but not hurting him obviously)
also love hugs, he will fully engulf you into a bear hug, crushing every bone in your body, but then he'll spin you around until you're both dizzy
very soft with you when he's tired, like all he wants is to lay down with you and baby him, or vice versa if you're tired, he will baby you to no end
you are one of his top prioritizes so he will always make sure that you're okay
making sure you have enough to eat, lending you his jacket, watching over you when doing something, putting his hand on a corner so you don't bump your head, etc.
one of your biggest supporters, will make sure he is the loudest too, always making sure you get your way
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ taehyun
so so sweet, very much a gentleman
i could see him always paying for you, definitely likes to go shopping just so you don’t have to pay for anything
when you guys go out he’s always carrying your bags, like before you can get a chance to grab it after he payed for it, it’s already in his hand
speaking of public, he wouldn’t like pda, maybe handholding or him giving you his arm, but that’s about it
in private he is definitely more affectionate, always touching you like slinging an arm over your shoulders, hand on your thigh, holding hands, linking pinkies, laying your legs over his lap, etc.
will do anything for you, he quite literally can’t say no, so if you really want something just ask, because you have very good chances of him saying yes
makes sure that you are in good health, so he’ll always be watching over you to aloe sure you are eating good and also doing some form of exercise/activity, as he wants to keep you healthy
i feel like he would make you breakfast in bed on random occasions, if he could bring himself to get out of bed that is
on the other occasions he would just stay in bed with you, as he wouldn’t want to leave the warmth and comfort of your embrace
he can be very soft either way you, gentle and affectionate, but also very playful when he wants to be
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ huening kai
omg he's a little baby, like all you want to do is snuggle him
it's known, and very well headcanoned that this man is a snuggle bug, and i completely agree
he loves hugging you and giving you kisses on the cheek, and obviously hopes for it to be reciprocated
i could see you laying down on the couch or bed doing your own thing, reading a book, scrolling on your phone, watching tv, etc. then you just see kai coming over and laying on your stomach, grabbing your hand and putting it on his head, and him snuggling into your belly
he's just overall very smitten with you, like he always has a look on his face that screams "i'm so in love, i can't believe that we're together"
whenever he’s not with you he’s always calling and texting you because he hates being apart :(
it’s always just little updates or check-ins, like he’ll text you “eating lunch right now! are you eating?” or “i miss you :(, i can’t wait to get back”
i also think he would be big on pet names, but they’re pretty consistent, where once he finds a few he’ll stick to them
doesn’t like either of you to be mad at each other, so if there’s ever an argument he will always apologize and try to resolve it, because he doesn’t want you guys to go to bed angry
he’s also a little goofball so he deck tries to make you laugh, like the others, he loves seeing you smile and laugh, it makes his heart flutter
his family would love you too, you definitely get along with lea and hiyyih
request: hi!! i saw you were taking txt requests and wanted to ask if you could do headcanons for tubatu and their favourite kind of nonsexual intimacy/physical affection :D
warnings: none, that i could think off. maybe some slight negative thoughts. most definitely not proof-read
a/n: ermmmm...hi...i have made a return to writing after a LONG time so feel free to send requests :))) hope this is good!
Choi Soobin
With Soobin, I can really see him valuing consistency in a relationship. I don’t necessarily mean a routine that you and him follow intentionally, it’s just things that serendipitously fall into place that becomes a constant in his life and your relationship.
He’d really treasure these constants when things becomes a little too hectic for his liking as an idol and the leader of Tomorrow X Together.
Sometimes he’s called at random times throughout the day for dance practice, sometimes he’ll have an impromptu trip for a fanmeet, sometimes he’d have a date planned with you only for it to fall flat because the company needs him for a photoshoot
So when he’s able to anchor himself to you, whether it be before or back-to-back schedules, or amidst the craziness that is comeback season, he does nothing but take great delight in it.
So what does this entail? Nothing. No literally. What others would call ‘doing nothing,’ you and Soobin view it as soaking in each others’ presence, filling up your half-empty cups with nuggets of calmness and tenderness.
It’s nothing extravagant, it’s literally just you and him existing in the same space while he does one thing and you do another. Parallel play, if you will.
It includes Soobin doing the cooking while you’re perched on the counter, phone in hand as you read off the recipe for him
It includes sharing the bathroom with him; you’re taking a much needed shower and he’s at the counter, doing his skincare, humming along to whatever songs you have playing on your speaker, breaking the verbal silence to playfully point out how you fogged up the mirror with how hot you ran the shower
It includes small bits of the mundane that mean the world to Soobin
Slowly but surely, it just happens to become a routine. You just always end up together, quietly, peacefully without forcing anything. He starts off by adjusting things for your comfort – fluffing a pillow when he notices it growing flat, speaking in a hushed voice when you have a migraine, flickering the big lights off and turning on the soft, yellow lamps, handing you your water bottle just as you’re about to ask him for it
It may seem too simple but as time passes, he lets you see his unfiltered states. He won’t always talk about what’s wrong, not at first, but he’ll linger around you when he’s tired and overwhelmed, when something in his atmosphere is a little off, when he doesn’t have the energy to “perform”. At the end of the day, he just tends to orient himself towards you in such subtle ways: a large hand on your thigh, his body language angled towards you, even in group settings
Soobin has no qualms in you witnessing his unpolished self, when he’s quieter than usual, a little spaced out, perhaps a bit fragile from stress
That’s where his intimacy lives: in the space around you
Over time, you start to notice that that he relaxes more around you than everyone else. Sure, he loves his members, but he’s with them most of the time in front of a camera, so there’s a layer of performance surrounding the interactions. Yet, when he’s around you, he’s allowed to pull the mask off and be unguarded around you.
Your silent reading is interrupted by the arrival of Soobin in your shared apartment. You put your book off to the side and rise from the couch, already noticing the way he trudges through the door, shoulders tense but the air around him is…exhausted. “Hey, Binnie,” you greet softly, stepping on your tippy-toes to wrap your arms around his neck, smiling to yourself when he immediately reciprocates the embrace. You can feel the way he curls into himself to fully stick himself onto you, the way he bends his neck lower, his spine arched to match your height. Expecting him to pull away after a few seconds, he surprises you by waddling over to the couch with his arms still wrapped around you. He’s a little clumsy at first, bumping into the table by the door that holds a bowl of keys and random objects but he finds his rhythm as he seamlessly moves you into the living room, pulling you down alongside him. He plops down with a huff and you follow suit, sitting on the other side from him to grab both your ankles and drape them over his lap.
You pout, not playfully because if Soobin’s feeling something, you feel it with him. “Long day?” a hand comes up to cup his cheek, clean from the makeup he had to wear in the morning for recordings, soft to the touch like he always is. Ohhhh, how easy Soobin is but instantly, when your hand comes in contact with his skin, he closes his eyes peacefully, and lets out an exhale with a shake of his head. You can already see him melting into the familiarity of the joined space. “Yeah,” he mumbles, his own coming up to rest over yours, leaning into your touch while his other hand wraps around one ankles, his thumb rubbing circles into your leg. “Just…wasn’t able to get a second and breath, you know?” peaking on eye open, anyone would be amiss to neglect the tender look Soobin gives you. It’s funny, really, how his eyes start to twinkle with fondness when he opens the other eye. “But I’m okay now.”
“Are you ?” you counter with a raise of you brow, hand floating up to push back the strands of hair that fall into his eyes. Soobin just hums in confirmation, arms coming out to wrap around you waist to pull you closer to him, right into your side, making it so you rest your head on his shoulder. “I made some bimbimbap. You want me to plate it up for you?”
“Maybe later. I just wanna sit here with you for a bit,” he whispers in reply, eyes landing on the book you were reading earlier. “Whatcha reading now?” You know, oh you know all too well that if Soobin was dwelling on something, if his mind was infested with doubts and misgivings, he’d tell you, he’d open himself up and bare his problems to you. You never needed to pull it out of him, never needed to coax him. That’s how much he trusts you, that’s how much he’s so sure of you. So when he asks you this banal question, you know that he needs now, is just a change of pace from the chaos of non-stop interviews, recordings, practices, and meetings. You gladly bring him into you space, there’s no one else you’d rather share it with, so you talk about your book, the plot, your thoughts before shifting over to the kitchen for dinner, dipping into small talk, perhaps more intimate conversations of worries and wishes. With Soobin, intimacy means being someone he doesn’t have to recover from, sharing silence that feels full rather than empty, and knowing that, even though nothing substantial has been said, you’re still connected. Intimacy with Soobin is not intense, it’s enduring.
Choi Yeonjun
In a budding romance with Yeonjun, non-sexual intimacy and physical affection starts off brights, maybe a little too intentional. If he has his sights set on you, he’s going to want to let it be known to the world.
Dramatically swinging your arm while his fingers are laced through yours. Placing a hand in the back pocket of your jeans, ever the the flirt. He knows it makes you blush when he does this and a smirk graces his lips as the two of you walk down the street like that. A part of him really does live for flirty displays of physical affection; the way peoples’ eyes are on him and you, the way you squirm around, not used to such blatant displays of affection. He’s warm and physically engaging with everyone, that’s just in his nature, but with you, he takes it a step further, though, you know that it’s a little bit of a show
You can’t really fault him for it, though. Being an idol, he constantly has people trying to get close. Not close to him but close to the idol image, the fame, the status. It’s a test of sorts. Are you really wanting to stay once you realize that his schedules are so sporadic, you may not see him for weeks at a time? Are you able to stick around when he’s surrounded by so many adoring fans, knowing thousands, if not millions of people constantly have their eyes on him? And most importantly, are you able to stare back at him unflinchingly when he breaks down and the cocky facade crumbles? If yes, the way he treats you becomes all the more distinct. Not necessarily louder, just intentional
In crowded spaces, he seeks you out specifically, eyes scanning through dozens of people at an event. He’s won an award at a show, having to sit restlessly through the rest of the event until it ended, and it he immediately booked it backstage, pushing through the throngs of people, head turning to every side to find you and when he does, he breaks out into a giant, dopey smile before crashing into you.
He brings up small details you’ve offhandedly mentioned but forgot later on. Going to a cafe, you order a slice of tiramisu, garnished with a raspberry and two blueberries, the former of which you don’t like. Yeonjun knows this, so he leans over the table to pluck the berries off the dessert and pops them into his mouth. “Hey!” you cry out, wanting to get annoyed for the sake of it. “What?” Yeonjun shrugs, chewing the fruit. “You said you don’t like blueberries.” You falter. Most of the time, you forget this fact yourself, mostly because you just don’t come into contact with blueberries enough to remember your dislike for them. But Yeonjun remembered, of course he did.
Yeonjun’s intimacy stops being general warmth and becomes targeted. Finding your gaze, locking eyes with you mid-conversation, even when someone else is talking. He’ll look at you from across the table, a subtle warm flame beneath his gaze, the two of you having a conversation with no words shared
His intimacy builds through shared moments that become exclusive over time: inside jokes, repeated habits, a certain tone of voice he only uses with you. But what really deepens it is when the performance drops because when he starts to 100% trust you, he lets you see the parts of him that aren’t that confident, where he needs reassurance instead of constantly giving it as the eldest of the group, and the quiet vulnerability behind all that confident energy.
At the end of the day, Yeonjun wants to share all experiences with you. Big and small, happy and sad, he wants to go through all the ups and downs with you, he wants to include you in his energy, and wants to be included in your energy.
Choi Beomgyu
I think Beomgyu would be kind of similar because he would hide his intimacy underneath extreme playfulness and teasing
At first, he’s all noise, cackles and jokes to get under your skin, purposefully pushing your buttons just to see your reaction but if you stay long enough, you start to notice the patterns.
He’s awfully observant and so like a switch has been flipped, he’ll stop a joke mid sentence because he senses you’re mood change. Beomgyu can sometimes forget that he’ll take his teasing a little too far but when he realizes it, he’ll bite his tongue in the same second and sit closer to you than usual, clinging onto you like a cat, but literally though because he’ll touch you absentmindedly, stuffing his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your comforting scent, or he’ll start to play with your fingers while listening to his other members talk
I could see him being quite hot and cold at times. Not in a negative way but just in that his mood could plummet or rise at the drop of a hat. He could literally be resting his head in your lap, playing with strings of your hoodie that dangle in his face, purposefully singing a song off-key, just to irritate you a bit and depending on your reaction, he’ll either keep going or stop entirely.
“C’moonnnnn, your phone can’t be that interesting,” he whines, reaching a hand up to try and swat your phone away. You scoff and roll your eyes, looking through your bank account without sparing your boyfriend a glance. “Trust me, even though my credit card stresses me out, it’s less of a headache than you,” you counter back, causing Beomgyu to sidle up further into your lap, his hans flying to your waist to tickle you. “Quit it!” you squeal, trying to wriggle yourself free, eyes still trained on your phone and when you get a glimpse of a notification that pop up, you stiffen. Whatever it is, it’s enough to dampen your mood entirely.
Beomgyu senses this immediately, the way your jaw tightens, the way you start to chew on your bottom lip. He withdraws, but doesn’t leave. He pulls his fingers away from your side and gently takes your phone from you, putting it off to the side as he sits up, scooping you into his lap for a change. He settles you sideways, hand brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. “Hey, you’re alright, okay?” his voice is softer now, there’s not a trace of that booming tone that laces his words when he’s energetic. “We’ll figure it out together.”
That’s the thing about Beomgyu. You never walk alone, you never struggle alone. Why should you when you could share the pain? Why have a piece of happiness on your own when you could double it with him around?
I definitely think Beomgyu would love late night talks the most. It’s the most intimate version of him, when the energy drops completely. At night, there’s nothing to distract him and it allows him to just…stay and be present. At times, he talks about the most random things, something he saw on the internet. “You know they played an Ateez song on the Artemis II mission?” “What? No way!” “I know! It’s a missed opportunity for them to play ‘Over the Moon,” he adds with a shake of his head. Other times, it’s a terribly soul-bearing affair.
“I don’t know. I just…the future really freaks me out, you know?” The two of you are at the park in the middle of the day, laying in the grass, other people scattered around but right now, it’s just you and Beomgyu. He’s dragged you here after the company announced that they’re going to be prepping for a comeback so he wanted to squeeze some time in with you. He’s laying straight on his back, gazing up at the sky and you’re laying the other way (think The Fault in Our Stars film poster). You hum, nodding to his words. “No, I get it, Beom. I think most of the world would understand. What’s making you think this way?”
He sighs, turning his head to look at you, a small pout on his lips from the uncertainty of the situation. “Not sure…guess the vastness of sky reminded me of the future. And the fact that contract renewals are coming up and I don’t know if-”
“-hey. It’s gonna be okay. you’re gonna be okay,” you interrupt, turning to look at him, your nose just barely brushing over his. “One step at a time and…I’m pretty confident in the fact that the rest of the guys want to keep the group together.” Beomgyu smiles and rubs the tip of his nose over your cheek. “You’re right.”
There’s softness underneath a few layers of humour. Not that his teasing isn’t him, but he’s able to be both sides of himself when he’s with you.
Kang Taehyun
Okay, so for Taehyun, because he’s a smarty pants, i could soooooooo see him loving intellectual and deep conversations
He’d loooveeee to tell you all the things he’s discovered but he’d love it even more listening to you talk about your passions and interests
He’s all about learning: learning your love languages, learning your fears to keep you safe, learning what makes you bloom out of happiness, and just learning about you in general!
With learning comes observation and Taehyun is observant alright, allowing him to be super attentive towards you and your needs
He adjusts how he speaks to you based on your moods. If you’re feeling glum, he knows to keep the teasing at pay, he doesn’t push. If you’re excited about something, he matches your energy, not wanting you to feel silly.
He helps you in ways that are uncannily timed
You had offhandedly told him that eating at university kind of makes you anxious because the cafeteria is too loud, too overwhelming. The next time you have a long day of classes, which only happens on Wednesdays, he messages you after your two back-to-back classes, knowing that you had an hour and a half window to grab lunch before your next one.
“Hey, come out of the building for me, sweetheart :))” simple and direct, but it still makes your heart flutter, especially in confusion because isn’t today his day off??? Shouldn’t he be resting??? You scurry out of the campus building, only to find Taehyun leaning against a banister at the end of the concrete staircase, arms crossed and when he sees you walk through the door, he doesn’t grin the way Yeonjun or Beomgyu would, but his face softens.
“Tae? What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be resting?” you ask, pressing a kiss to his cheek and allowing him to tuck you into his side. “I am resting. Got my baby here with me, that’s all I need.” You roll your eyes at his response but he sees the way you blush at same time and a slow smile draws on his face. “Besides, you usually have lunch at this time and I thought it would be nice to take you to a proper place. I know you don’t like how loud it is in there,” he tacks on, head gesturing towards the building. Incredulously, you stare back at him, unable to say anything for a few seconds because you’ve only said thing once. Taehyun chuckles and brings a hand to the small of your back to guide you away. “Don’t look so surprised, baby. I listen.”
I don’t think Taehyun would be too into PDA. Like yes, he loves physical affection but he kind of keeps it to a minimum in public. I think he’d be more into eye contact, especially since he has such an intense, magnetic gaze
His eyes tell the whole story and when you lock eyes, it grounds and stabilizes you. One look from Taehyun speaks much more than words can.
You could be at a fancier dinner with him and his members. It’s a little out of your comfort zone but he asked you to come and how could you say no to his boba eyes? You’re sat next to him but you aren’t given a chance to converse with him as the other members fill up the space with their own words. It gets a bit overwhelming when voices start to overlap with one another, mingled with the doubt that you’re in a place where you don’t fit it and you fall silent, but still having a nice time.
Taehyun notices almost immediately and he turns his head to look at you, his face turned down ever so slightly, looking at you through his lashes with a soft look, silently asking you “are you okay?” you nod, giving him a small smile but he sees you’re not telling the full truth, so his hand finds yours underneath the table and gives you three small squeezes. I. Love. You.
Taehyun’s intimacy is being understood in a way that’s quiet but very very real. It’s never feeling dismissed or overlooked, and even though he’s not overtly expressive, he’s actively considering you, offering security in your relationship with him
Hueningkai
With Hueningkai, because he’s such a cuddlebug, intimacy is immediately accessible, but it deepens as time goes on
It starts off easy: he reaches for your hand without a second thought, comes up behind you for a hug, his strong arms circling around your waist and rocking you side to side with his chin resting on your shoulder
For him, touch is the most natural thing in the world but as your relationship with him deepens, those simple gestures from before gain emotional weight. He attaches himself to you when he’s quiet, not just playful, he leans on you when he’s unsure, and his hugs will linger, as if he’s grounding himself
Omg you know that one live where a MOA commented that their stomach was hurting and he starts to wave his hands in circles like he’s patting their stomach??? He would DEFINITELY do that in real life
You truly don’t know what’s up. Your stomach’s been hurting for the past half hour and you’ve done everything right: you’ve eaten, you’ve gone to the bathroom, you’ve taken a painkiller, so what’s happening? You’re curled up in your bed, laying in a fetus position, having left Kai to his own devices while he was playing a game on the PC with beomgyu. Normally, you’d be sitting with him in the living room, humming to yourself as you do your own task but he noticed how eerily quiet the room was. “‘Kay, I’m hopping off for the day,” Kai says, not giving his bandmate time to complain as he clicks out of the game. Sliding his headphones off, he gets up from the desk and looks around, brows furrowing when you’re not on the couch like you usually are. “y/n?” he calls out, only to be met with silence.
He walks further into the apartment, stepping into the bedroom and sees you in bed, blanket covering your form, small whimpers of pain escaping your mouth, and he genuinely physically wilts when he sees you like this. “y/nnie, what’s wrong?” he asks, now standing at the side of the bed before crouching, hand resting on your forehead and brushing strands of your hair back.
“Stomach hurts,” is all you say in a whisper, eyes fluttering shut from the pain. A frown pulls on his lips and he gets up, walking to the other side of the bed to join you in laying, his chest pressing against your back, one arm wrapping around you so his hand rests on your tummy. “I’m sorry, bubs,” he whispers into your hair, hand starting to rub circles over your shirt. “And you already took something for it, huh?” he adds, eyes flickering to the half-closed bottle of pills on the nightstand. “Yeah but…your hand’s warm…feels nice,” you mumble, already feeling the tension in your stomach lessen from his warmth. “Yeah? Guess I’ve got the magic touch.” That may be an understatement because you fall asleep within a few minutes and even when you’re in deep sleep, he doesn’t leave. He keeps his hand on your stomach, his breath softly brushing against your hair as he himself joins you in sleep.
Maybe self-indulgent because I’m Kai biased and a #romantic, but I think he would definitely do a princess spins with you, especially if you come bearing good news. The craziest part is that he doesn’t even mean to, he just gets so caught up in your happiness that he externalizes it on instinct
Linking pinkies with you too, he thinks it’s so cute OR OMG he would be so silly and charming just to get giggles out of you
You’ve wrapped up a date with him and he drops you off at the apartment before leaving to go to HYBE for the rest of the day. He’s holding hands with you and you’re trying to let go to go inside but he won’t let you!!! “Hold on,” he says softly, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “That’s for a goodbye. And this-” another kiss. “That’s for you to keep for later.”
“Kai!” you giggle, bonking your head with his. “You’re so silly. I’ll see you in a few hours!” he shrugs, shooting you a boyish smile with hearts in his eyes cuz he’s that smitten with you, even if you’re deep in the relationship with him.
Oh, that’s another thing too. No matter how long you’ve been dating, he’ll always keep things playful and light THIS CUTIE UGH
Anyways, safe to say, with Hueningkai, you never have to doubt your relationship with him because he’s open and always ready to offer hugs and kisses. With him, it’s emotional and physical closeness that’s easy to access, but still meaningful
★ synopsis:
a day before valentine's day, kang taehyun notices your lingering gaze on couples with roses and chocolates. he teases you about practicality, his logic sharp as ever, yet the next day unfolds with deliberate surprises that blur the line between reason and something deeper.
what begins as a calculated escape ends in warmth you never expected—subtle, intimate, and undeniably his.
★ pairing: boyfriend!taehyun x fem!reader
★ genre: fluff, romance, eventual smut (18+ mdni!) with a plot, established relationship
★ song reco: bad - wave to earth
★ status | word count: completed | 6.8k
★ao3: practical
note: first taehyun fic! a valentine's day inspired one for our february baby <3
i added the word count because someone asked me to add word counts to my posts! i’ve added it to past works and will continue moving forward! (i didn't know it was helpful to readers so thank you to the one who asked me to add it!)
happy valentine's day and enjoy! <3
The late afternoon sun slanted through the tall glass windows of the café, turning the wooden tables into warm amber patches.
Outside, the streets of Seoul buzzed with an unusual energy for February 13th—couples everywhere, laughing, arms linked, carrying those telltale red-and-pink paper bags from florists and chocolatiers. Bouquets of roses wrapped in cellophane rustled against coat sleeves; heart-shaped boxes peeked out from under scarves.
It was as if the city had decided to rehearse Valentine's Day a day early, everyone eager to beat the crowds tomorrow.
You sat across from Taehyun at a small corner table, your iced Americano sweating rings onto the coaster. He was slouched comfortably in his chair, legs stretched out under the table so his sneakers brushed yours every now and then. His black button-up shirt was pulled up his elbows just enough to show his veins whenever his hands flexed as his observant eyes flicked toward the window every few seconds.
A young couple passed right by the glass, the girl clutching an enormous bouquet of white peonies and red tulips like it was a trophy. The guy beside her balanced a gold-foil box of chocolates in one hand and her waist with the other. They were giggling about something, heads bent close.
Taehyun's gaze lingered on them for a beat longer than necessary then he leaned forward, elbows on the table, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"They're a day early, aren't they?" he said, voice low and amused. "Valentine's isn't until tomorrow. What's the rush?"
You followed his line of sight, watching the couple disappear around the corner. "Maybe they just couldn't wait. Or they hate lines."
He snorted softly, the sound more exhale than laugh. "Still. Flowers wilt in like, twelve hours if you don't put them in water right away. And chocolate? Melts if you carry it around too long in this weather. Not practical at all."
He tapped his fingers once against the table, decisive. "Waste of money if you ask me."
You couldn't help but chuckle, the sound bubbling up warm and familiar. It was classic Taehyun—cutting straight through the sentimentality with that razor-sharp logic of his. Always observing, assessing, and deciding what actually made sense. No fluff, no wasted effort.
He'd always been like this, ever since the early days when he'd show up at your door with a single rose and a box of dark chocolate truffles, eyes bright with that boyish excitement. Back then, you'd smiled politely, thanked him, and after a few dates gently nudged him toward practicality.
"You know I'd rather you just... got me something useful," you'd told him once, laughing to soften it. "Like coffee. Or that new phone case I needed. Flowers are pretty for a day, but then they're just trash."
He'd looked at you for a long second, processing. Then he nodded once, sharp and final. "Got it."
And that was that. The flowers stopped and the chocolates became rare treats only on your birthday or when he felt like spoiling you with zero occasion.
Instead, he started showing up with your favorite iced latte on stressful days, or a new pair of wireless earbuds when yours broke, or tickets to that indie band you'd mentioned once in passing.
Practical.
Efficient.
You never regretted saying it because you were the same as he was. Practical. Thoughtful in the way that actually lasted.
But sometimes, on days like today when the city smelled like roses and sugar, a tiny, secret part of you wondered what it would feel like to be one of those girls carrying armfuls of petals home.
Taehyun caught your expression—the slight softening around your eyes as another couple walked by with matching red heart balloons. He tilted his head, studying you the way he studied everything: quick, thorough, no detail missed.
"What?" he asked, voice teasing but gentle. "You want one?"
You rolled your eyes, nudging his foot under the table. "Don't start. You know I'd just complain about the pollen."
"True." He grinned, all teeth and mischief. "You'd sneeze for three days straight and blame me."
"Exactly." He leaned back again, stretching his arms above his head until his shirt rode up just enough to show a sliver of toned stomach. Casual. Effortless. The kind of movement that still made your pulse jump after all this time.
"Anyway," he said, dropping his arms and picking up his own drink, "we're not doing any of that tomorrow."
You raised an eyebrow. "No?"
"Nope." He set the cup down with a soft clink. "Got something better planned."
"Better than flowers and chocolate?" you teased.
He met your eyes, steady. "Way better."
There was no elaboration. Just that quiet confidence, the kind that came from already having everything mapped out in his head. Taehyun didn't do vague promises; when he said something was handled, it was.
You let it drop, content to let the mystery sit. That was another thing about him—he loved surprises, but only the kind he controlled. The kind where he could see the variables, calculate the outcome, and know it'd land perfectly.
The two of you finished your drinks in comfortable silence, his foot still brushing yours every so often like an absentminded anchor. When you stood to leave, he automatically grabbed your bag before you could, slinging it over his own shoulder.
Outside, the air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of street food and exhaust. Couples were still everywhere, posing for photos with their bouquets, laughing as petals caught in the wind. Taehyun slipped his hand into yours without fanfare, fingers threading through yours with the ease of long habit.
"Tomorrow," he said as you walked, "wear something comfortable. No heels."
You glanced at him sideways. "Mysterious."
He just smirked again. "You'll see."
That night, you lay in bed replaying the café moment, the way his eyes had flicked to those couples, the quick logic that dismissed the romance as inefficient, the easy way he'd shut down any hint of wanting it himself.
It didn't sting, exactly. You knew him. Knew he showed love in actions that stuck around longer than a vase of flowers ever could. Still, as you drifted off, you let yourself imagine—just for a second—what it would be like if he ever decided practicality could include a little impracticality.
The next morning was Valentine's Day and it dawned cold and clear and you woke to the smell of coffee already brewing in your kitchen.
Taehyun must have used his spare key; he did that sometimes when his schedule let him steal early hours. You padded out in oversized sweats and fuzzy socks, hair still messy from sleep. He was at the counter, pouring two mugs, wearing a black hoodie paired with dark jeans and sneakers that looked ready for walking. His hair was slightly damp, like he'd showered recently, and the sleeves were pushed up to his elbows.
"Morning," he said without turning around. "Coffee's ready. Black, like you pretend to like when you're trying to be healthy."
You laughed, sliding onto a stool. "I do like it black sometimes."
"Sure you do." He turned, sliding your mug across the counter. Then he leaned against the edge, arms crossed, watching you take the first sip.You noticed the small paper bag on the counter beside him—simple brown kraft, no ribbon, no hearts. Practical packaging.
"What's that?" you asked, nodding toward it.
He followed your gaze, then shrugged one shoulder. "Open it later. After we eat."
Breakfast was quick with toast, eggs he'd scrambled with precision, and fruit sliced into neat pieces. He ate standing up, scrolling through his phone with one hand, occasionally glancing up to make sure you were eating too.
When the plates were cleared after he insisted on washing them himself, he finally picked up the bag and held it out.
"Here."
You took it curiously, noticing how it was heavier than it looked. Inside, nestled in tissue paper was a pink thermos, matte finish, the kind that kept drinks hot for twelve hours or cold for twenty-four. Engraved on the side in small silver lettering was your name.
You looked up at him, eyebrows raised and he rubbed the back of his neck, a rare flicker of something almost sheepish crossing his face.
"You always complain your coffee gets cold when we're out. Figured this would fix it."
You turned the thermos over in your hands, feeling the solid weight of it. It was exactly your style—minimal, functional, thoughtful.
"It's perfect."
"Good." He nodded once, satisfied. "Now grab your coat. We're leaving in ten."
The surprise unfolded piece by piece, the way Taehyun liked things: controlled reveals, each step building momentum. First, he drove you to a quiet park on the outskirts of the city, a small wooded area with winding trails and a frozen pond that reflected the sky like glass. He pulled a backpack from the trunk and slung it over one shoulder.
"Hiking?" you guessed.
"Sort of." He took your hand again. "Trust me."
The trail was easy at first, crunching leaves underfoot, the air sharp with pine. He walked ahead sometimes, pointing out little things like a bird's nest tucked in branches, a frozen stream that looked like twisted glass, his voice low and excited in that understated way of his.
.Halfway up, he stopped at a clearing. Someone had set up a small pop-up tent—nothing fancy, just insulated walls and a portable heater humming softly inside.
A folding table held a spread: sandwiches wrapped in parchment, fresh fruit, a thermos (that matched yours, but in a sky blue color) of hot chocolate, and—unexpectedly—a small Bluetooth speaker playing soft music.
You stared. "You planned this?"
He shrugged, but his eyes were bright. "Scouted it last week. Owner lets me use it sometimes when it's empty. Figured it'd be better than fighting crowds downtown."
Inside the tent, it was warm, cozy. Blankets on the floor, cushions. You sat cross-legged, watching him unpack everything with efficient movements before he reached into the backpack again.
This time, he pulled out a bouquet. It wasn’t huge nor extravagant. Just a tight bundle of deep red camellia and a few sprigs of eucalyptus for green contrast tied with plain twine.
Your breath caught as he held it out, casual as if handing you a water bottle.
"For you."
You took it slowly, fingers brushing his. "Taehyun..."
"Don't make a big deal," he said quickly, looking away toward the heater like it needed adjusting. "They're not roses. Roses are cliché and overpriced. These last longer, don't smell, won't make you sneeze. Practical."
You stared at the flowers, then at him. He was still avoiding your eyes, jaw tight like he was bracing for teasing but you didn't tease.
Instead, you set the bouquet carefully on the blanket beside you, then leaned forward and kissed him—soft at first, then deeper when his hands found your waist and pulled you closer.
When you pulled back, his pupils were blown wide, breath uneven."You said you didn't like flowers," he murmured against your lips.
"I said I didn't like wasteful ones." You touched the camellias gently. "These... aren't wasteful."
He exhaled a laugh, low and relieved. "Good. Because I wasn't sure. I kept thinking about yesterday—how you looked at those couples. Figured maybe I was missing something."
You shook your head. "You weren't. You just... you always give me what lasts."
He studied you for a long moment, then nodded once. "Yeah. But sometimes lasting includes a little stupid romance, right?"
"Right."
He kissed you again—this time slower, hands framing your face like he was memorizing it. When he pulled away, he reached into the bag one last time. A small box of dark chocolate truffles. The expensive kind he used to bring in the beginning of your budding relationship.
"Last surprise," he said. "Not practical. Just... because."
You laughed, the sound muffled against his shoulder as you leaned into him. "You're ridiculous."
"Logically ridiculous," he corrected, wrapping an arm around you.
Outside, the wind rustled the trees. Inside, the heater hummed, the music played softly, and the camellias sat bright against the blanket—proof that even the most practical heart could bend, just a little, when it mattered.
The rest of the day passed in lazy perfection: eating, talking, stealing kisses between stories. He told you about scouting the spot, how he'd tested the heater twice to make sure it wouldn't fail. You teased him for over-planning a "spontaneous" date and he just grinned, unbothered.
As the sun dipped low, painting the snow gold, he packed everything up with the same efficiency he'd arrived with. But before you left the tent, he picked up the bouquet and pressed it into your hands again.
"Keep them," he said. "Even if they die eventually. At least they lasted longer than the cliché ones."
You smiled, holding them close. “Of course,” you murmured, smiling small and soft. “I’m not letting these go anywhere.”
He nodded once—sharp, satisfied—then bent to zip the backpack. But he didn’t stand right away. Instead he stayed crouched there for a beat, looking out through the open tent flap at the trail disappearing into the shadowed trees. The first stars were already pricking through the violet sky, faint and cold.
“I wanted to stay longer,” he said suddenly, almost like the words had slipped out before he could catch them. “Watch the stars come out properly with you. Lie back, point out constellations, the whole thing.”
He huffed a short laugh, self-deprecating. “But the trail’s not lit. No markers past the first bend. If we wait too long we’ll be stumbling around in the dark, and I didn’t bring headlamps. Or a map. Or backup batteries.” He rubbed the back of his neck, the gesture quick and familiar. “Not worth the risk. We’d end up cold, lost, and then I’d have to carry you out piggyback while you complain on my back.”
You laughed—the sound bright against the quiet—and reached out to tug lightly on the sleeve of his hoodie.
“Always planning three steps ahead.”
He squeezed your hand once. “Next time,” he said, voice low and certain, “we stay for the stars.”
You smiled, holding the camellias a little tighter. “Next time,” you echoed.
His decision was practical, yes. But also, undeniably, romantic in the way only Taehyun could be: deliberate, thoughtful, and surprising.
The walk back down the trail felt different—not just because the light had shifted to that soft, bruised purple of late winter dusk, but because the camellias were still in your hands. Their petals caught the last slivers of sun like small dark flames.
Taehyun walked beside you, his pace deliberately slowed so you didn’t have to hurry. One hand was in his pocket, the other holding yours as he squeezed every few minutes like he was checking if you were still there.
He didn’t speak much on the descent but it wasn’t awkward. Silence was normal for him after something emotionally high-stakes. He processed in silence, turning the afternoon over in his head the way he’d turn a Rubik’s cube until every side matched.
You could almost see the gears moving behind his eyes—did the heater stay warm enough? Was the chocolate too bitter? Did the flowers feel like too much after all these months of steering him away from them?
You broke the quiet first. “You really planned all of this in a week?”
He glanced over, mouth quirking. “Ten days, technically. Had to wait for the owner to confirm the tent wasn’t booked.” A small shrug. “Wanted to make sure everything lined up. Weather forecast, sunset timing, how long the trail takes at your walking speed.”
You laughed under your breath. “You timed my walking speed?”
“Rough estimate.” He tapped his temple. “I pay attention.”
Of course he did. He always did.
He noticed you shivered when iced drinks sat too long, so he bought the thermos.
He noticed you always forgot gloves in winter, so last December he’d slipped a pair of thin, touchscreen-compatible ones into your coat pocket without a word.
The parking lot was nearly empty when you reached it. Only two other cars, both with couples still inside, windows fogged, probably stealing the last few minutes before heading home to whatever Valentine’s dinner they’d booked.
Taehyun unlocked the doors with a quiet beep and opened the passenger side for you out of habit. Before you could slide in, he stopped you with a light touch on your elbow.
“Wait.”
You turned. He was looking at the camellias again, then at you, expression unreadable for a second.
“I almost didn’t bring them,” he admitted. Voice low, like the confession cost him something to say out loud. “Kept thinking about what you said back then—how you’d rather have something practical. I didn’t want to… I don’t know. Make you feel like I wasn’t listening.”
Your chest tightened. “Taehyun—”
“But then yesterday at the café,” he continued, cutting himself off before you could interrupt, “you looked at those people with the big stupid roses and I could see it. Not jealousy, exactly. Just… curiosity? Like maybe part of you wondered what it felt like to be given the cliché thing anyway.”
He noticed that too, you thought.
He exhaled through his nose, short and sharp. “So I figured—worst case, you laugh at me and we use the flowers as kindling later. Best case…” He gestured vaguely at the bouquet. “You smile like that.”
You hadn’t realized you were smiling until he pointed it out.He rubbed the back of his neck again—the same nervous action from earlier in the tent.
“Anyway. Point is, I’m not gonna make it a habit. Flowers every week would be wasteful and you’d get sick of them in like, two months. But once in a while? When it actually means something?” He met your eyes, steady. “I can do that.”
The cold air stung your cheeks, but you barely felt it.
“You’re allowed to want things that aren’t one-hundred-percent logical, you know,” you said softly.
He huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well. Working on it.”
You stepped closer, rising on your toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Thank you. For all of it. Even the illogical parts.”
He caught your waist before you could pull away, kissing you properly this time—slow, thorough, the way he did when he wanted to make sure you felt every second of it. When he finally let go, his forehead rested against yours for a beat.
“Get in,” he murmured. “Heater’s already on. Don’t want you freezing while I’m trying to be romantic.”
You laughed and slid into the passenger seat, cradling the camellias carefully on your lap like they were made of glass.
The drive back into the city was quiet again, but comfortable. Taehyun kept the radio low—some chill R&B playlist he’d made months ago because he knew you liked certain tracks. Every so often his fingers would find yours over the center console, thumb brushing your knuckles absentmindedly.
When you reached your apartment building, he parked but didn’t turn off the engine right away.
“Still early,” he said. “You hungry for actual dinner or…?”
You tilted your head. “You didn’t book anything?”
“Didn’t want to lock us into a time slot in case you hated the tent idea and wanted to bail early.”
Of course he’d think of that too. Contingency plans for everything.
“But there’s that ramen place you like” He continued, “the one with the spicy broth that makes your nose run. Or we can just order in. Your call.”
You considered it. The idea of sitting in a crowded restaurant right now, surrounded by other couples doing the full Valentine’s performance, felt suddenly exhausting. You wanted more of this—the two of you, no audience, no pressure.
“Let’s order in,” you decided. “And you’re staying, right?”
He looked almost offended that you’d asked. “Obviously.”
Upstairs, the apartment smelled faintly of flowers from the candle you’d burned last night. Taehyun kicked off his shoes by the door, hung both your coats, then disappeared into the kitchen like he lived there.
Which, functionally, he practically did.
You set the camellias on the dining table, arranging them in the only vase you owned—a plain white ceramic cylinder he’d bought you last summer because ‘your old one leaked and stained the wood.’
While he scrolled through the delivery app, muttering about how the restaurant always forgot extra chili oil unless you wrote it in all caps, you slipped into the bedroom to change.
Comfy sweats, one of his old oversized hoodies he left in your apartment months ago, and fuzzy socks. When you came back out he was already on the couch, legs spread, phone balanced on his thigh, looking completely at home.
He glanced up. Paused. His gaze did that slow sweep it always did when you wore his clothes—possessive, appreciative, a little smug.
“Looks better on you,” he said simply.You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the flush.
“Flattery isn’t practical.” you huffed.
“Doesn’t have to be.” He patted the cushion beside him. “Come here”
You curled into his side, head on his shoulder, legs draped over his lap. He wrapped one arm around you automatically, thumb rubbing slow circles against your upper arm through the fabric while the other kept scrolling until he hit submit on the order.
“Twenty-eight minutes,” he announced. “Plenty of time.”
You blinked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “Plenty of time for what?”
He didn’t answer with words.Instead he surged up, one hand cupping the back of your neck to hold you exactly where he wanted, the other sliding to your hip with a bruising grip, and kissed you hard.
It wasn’t gentle. It was claiming—teeth catching your lower lip hard enough to sting sweetly, tongue sweeping in deep and wet and possessive, stroking against yours in slow, deliberate drags that made your head spin.
You made a small, helpless sound into his mouth; he swallowed it greedily, tilted his head to take the kiss even deeper, licking into you like he was trying to taste every corner.
His hands then started roaming.
Everywhere.
One palm shoved up under the hoodie you were wearing, rough fingertips skating over the soft skin of your ribs, then higher, cupping one breast fully through the thin bra.
He squeezed firmly, his thumb unhurriedly circling the already-pebbled nipple until it ached, then pinching just enough to make you gasp into his mouth. The other hand slid down the curve of your spine, fingers splaying wide over your ass, kneading the flesh before pulling you down harder against the thick, insistent ridge of him straining behind denim.
You rocked instinctively, grinding down on the hard length of him; he groaned low and guttural against your tongue, the sound vibrating through your chest and straight to your core. He broke the kiss only to drag his open mouth along your jaw, down the sensitive column of your throat, teeth scraping over your racing pulse before he sucked a mark there—hard enough to bloom purple by morning, soft enough that you arched into it instead of pulling away.
“Plenty of time,” he repeated against your skin, voice rough and wrecked, lips brushing with every word, “to get you so wet I can feel you soaking through my jeans before the food gets here.”
The bluntness delivered in that calm tone sent a fresh gush of heat between your legs. He shifted you in one fluid motion, flipping your positions so your back hit the cushions and he loomed above you, one knee braced between your thighs, the other planted on the floor for leverage.
The hoodie rode up to your ribs and he didn’t bother fixing it, shoving it higher with both hands, bunching the fabric under your armpits, exposing the lace of your bra and the way your chest rose and fell in shallow pants.
His gaze dropped, dark and ravenous. “Look at you,” he muttered, more to himself, voice thick.
One hand closed over your left breast again, kneading slowly while the other yanked the bra cups down in a single rough tug. Your breasts spilled free into the cool air, nipples already tight and flushed.
He made a low, appreciative sound in his throat before leaning down and took one peak into his mouth. Tongue flat and hot, he circled once, twice, then sucked—hard, rhythmic pulls that matched the slow, deliberate roll of his hips down into yours.
The rough denim scraped against the thin barrier of your sweats, friction brutal and perfect against your swollen clit. You threaded your fingers into his dark hair, tugging hard. He growled around your nipple, before switching sides—teeth grazing the sensitive bud just enough to make you cry out before soothing it with slow, wet laps of his tongue.
His free hand slid lower, under the waistband of your sweats and past the damp lace of your underwear, straight to where you were already slick and throbbing. Two fingers parted your folds, slid through the wetness with obscene ease, then pressed flat against your clit in a slow, firm circle that made your hips buck.
“Fuck,” you breathed, head falling back against the cushion.
“Language,” he said against your breast, voice muffled and dark. “But I’ll give you a pass since that’s the response I want.”
He rubbed again—tighter circles now, pressure steady. “Twenty-five minutes left.” He breathed. “Plenty of time to map exactly how many times I can make you come before the doorbell.”
He sounded almost proud of his own ruthless efficiency. You would have laughed if your breath weren’t already coming in short, desperate pants.
You arched harder, chasing his fingers. He rewarded you by slipping one inside—slow, deliberate—curling immediately to that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
“Another,” you managed, voice cracking and hee didn’t hesitate. Second finger joined the first, stretching you beautifully, pumping in a steady, deep rhythm while his thumb took over your clit—small, relentless circles that never faltered.
The wet, filthy sounds of his fingers moving inside you filled the room, louder than your own ragged breathing. He lifted his head to watch your face—eyes locked on yours, pupils blown so wide only a thin ring of iris remained.
“Twenty-two minutes,” he rasped, voice wrecked but still steady. “You’re clenching so fucking tight already. Gonna come for me like this? All over my hand before the noodles arrive?”
You could only nod, words gone, hips rocking desperately onto his fingers. He kissed you again—messy, open-mouthed, swallowing every broken whimper as he worked you faster. Fingers curling deeper with every thrust, thumb pressing harder, the rhythm never faltering.
Practical.
Precise.
Devastating.
When you shattered it hit like a freight train, your back bowing off the couch, thighs clamping around his wrist, a choked cry tearing from your throat as pleasure ripped through you in sharp, blinding waves. He didn’t stop, just slowed his movements, curling gently to draw it out until you were trembling, oversensitive, gasping against his shoulder.
Taehyun withdrew his fingers slowly, glistening with your release, and brought them to his mouth—licking them clean with slow, deliberate swipes of his tongue while holding your dazed gaze shamelessly satisfied with what he’d done. Then he glanced at his watch.
“Eighteen minutes left,” he said, already working his belt open with one hand, the metal clinking softly. “Enough time to fuck you properly… and still have time to wash my hands before I tip the delivery guy.”
You laughed—breathless, dazed, thighs still shaking. He leaned down, kissed you softer this time, almost tender as he reached for the waistband of your sweats, tugging them along with your soaked underwear—down your thighs in one efficient motion.
“Lift,” he instructed, voice rough with want and you followed.
He shoved his jeans and boxers down just enough, freeing his cock—thick, flushed dark at the tip, already leaking. The sight of him made your mouth water, made fresh heat coil low in your belly.
He notched himself at your entrance, rubbing the head through your slick folds once, twice, coating himself until he glistened.
“Condom?” you asked, even as your hips lifted toward him instinctively.
“Already on the table,” he said, nodding toward the small foil packet he’d apparently placed there sometime in the last few minutes—because of course he’d prepared. “But if you want me bare tonight…”
You swallowed hard. “Yes. Please.”
He exhaled sharply through his nose, something almost feral flashing in his eyes.Then he pushed in slowly, letting you feel every thick inch as he stretched you open, until his hips met yours and he was buried to the hilt.
You both groaned—low, broken sounds that mingled in the quiet room.He stayed still for a heartbeat, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “So tight… so wet… so…perfect.”
“Language” you teased, repeating his words earlier and he just groaned.
Then he started moving.Slow, deep rolls at first—pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, grinding against your clit with every thrust. Each stroke dragged against that sensitive spot inside, building the pressure again impossibly fast.
“Feel that?” he rasped, voice wrecked. “How deep I am? How you’re taking every inch?”
You could only whimper, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. He picked up speed—harder now, hips snapping forward with controlled force, the couch creaking under you both. One hand braced beside your head, the other slid between you, thumb finding your clit again, rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts.
“Fourteen minutes,” he growled against your ear. “Gonna make you come on my cock before the timer runs out. Then I’m gonna fill you up so deep you’ll feel me all night.”
The filthy promise tipped you over the edge, coming with a cry, walls fluttering and clenching around him, milking him as wave after wave crashed through you. He fucked you through it, hips stuttering only when your spasms pulled a low, guttural moan from his throat.
When the aftershocks finally faded he slowed, grinding deep instead of thrusting, letting you ride the lingering pleasure.
Then he pulled out slowly, both of you hissing at the loss, and flipped you onto your stomach, tugged your hips up, and slid back in from behind in one smooth stroke.
“Last one,” he murmured, voice strained. “Gonna come inside you now.”
He thrusted hard then—fast, deep, one hand wrapped around your hip, the other sliding up your spine to fist in your hair, pulling just enough to arch your back. The new angle let him hit even deeper, the head of his cock dragging against that spot with every brutal thrust.
You pushed back to meet him, desperate, needy sounds spilling from your lips.He reached around, fingers finding your clit again—rubbing fast, merciless circles.
“Come with me,” he ordered, voice breaking for the first time. “Now.”
You shattered a third time—harder than before, vision whiting out, body shaking as you pulsed around him. He followed seconds later—hips slamming forward one last time, burying himself deep as he came with a choked groan, spilling hot and thick inside you, pulse after pulse until you were both trembling.
He stayed buried inside you for a long, suspended moment, chest heaving against your back, forehead pressed to the nape of your neck. His lips found your skin there—soft, reverent kisses scattered along the sweat-damp curve, as though grounding himself in the aftershock. His arms bracketed you, one hand splayed wide over your stomach, holding you close while the other braced beside your head to keep his weight from crushing you.
Then he exhaled a long shaky breath and glanced at his watch one final time.
“Three minutes to spare,” he murmured, voice hoarse but satisfied. “Plenty of time to clean up… and still answer the door like nothing happened.”
He pulled out slowly—carefully—both of you hissing sharply at the sudden emptiness and the flare of oversensitivity. The slick heat of his release immediately began to slip out, warm and thick, trailing down your inner thighs. You felt it—intimate, messy, undeniable—and a fresh shiver ran through you at the sensation.
Taehyun noticed instantly.
Without a word he shifted back just enough to reach the side table. He’d already placed everything he might need within arm’s reach earlier—because of course he had: a small stack of soft tissues, a clean hand towel folded neatly, and an unopened bottle of water.
Practical. Ruthlessly prepared. Always three steps ahead.
“Stay here,” he murmured, voice still rough around the edges but steady again. “Don’t move yet. I’ll get the food. And a towel. And water.”
You nodded weakly, limbs heavy, body humming with aftershocks. The couch cushions were cool against your flushed skin as you collapsed fully onto your stomach, cheek pressed to the fabric, breathing in the faint scent of his cologne that clung to everything he touched.
He moved with that same efficient grace—jeans tugged back up just enough to be decent, belt loosely buckled, hair still a beautiful disaster. He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment and you heard the faucet run, the soft rustle of a fresh towel being pulled from the cabinet. Then, he was back, kneeling beside you on the floor.
He draped the warm, damp towel over your lower back first then gently guided it between your thighs, cleaning you with careful, unhurried strokes.No awkwardness, no hesitation; just quiet focus, like this was simply the next logical step in the sequence he’d already mapped out.
“You okay?” he asked softly, thumb brushing a soothing circle over your hip where his grip had left faint pink imprints earlier.
“More than okay.” You managed to say, releasing a small, blissed-out hum.
Without a word, he reached for the rucked-up fabric bunched around your ribs, now twisted high enough that your breasts and stomach were fully exposed to the cool air of the apartment. His fingers gathered the hem gently, tugging it downward in one slow, careful motion.
The soft cotton slid over your skin like a whisper—first covering your breasts, then gliding past your navel, finally settling at mid-thigh where it had always belonged on you. He smoothed it flat against your sides with both palms, fingers lingering at your waist for a second longer than necessary, as though making sure every inch of you was shielded again. The gesture was simple, almost absentminded, but the care in it made your chest tighten.
“There,” he murmured against the shell of your ear, voice low and rough from overuse.
He leaned down, kissed your temple, then stood again. The doorbell rang right on cue as he glanced at his watch, a tiny satisfied quirk to his mouth.
“Right on time.” he said, voice steady again, though his hair was still a complete disaster and there were faint red crescents from your nails on his shoulders. He adjusted himself one last time, smoothed his shirt down, and headed for the door—calm, collected, utterly composed.
You watched him go, boneless and blissed-out, legs still weak, a stupid, happy smile tugging at your lips as the scent of spicy ramen began to drift in from the hallway.
He set everything on the coffee table, then came back to you with a bottle of water already uncapped.
“Drink,” he said, sliding an arm under your shoulders to help you sit up slowly. “Hydration first. Then food.”
You took the bottle with shaky fingers, sipping while he arranged the containers—chopsticks, extra chili oil (he’d remembered to request it in all caps), napkins fanned out neatly. Only when you’d taken a few solid swallows did he finally let himself sit beside you, pulling you gently against his side.
The ramen was perfect—broth spicy enough to make your eyes water, noodles springy, extra chashu because he remembered what you liked, and it was still steaming as he handed you your bowl first, then took his own.
You ate in a companionable quiet for a while, the only sounds were the soft slurp of noodles and the occasional satisfied hum from him when he got a particularly good bite. Halfway through your bowl you caught him watching you again.
“What?”
He shook his head once. “Nothing. Just… glad you liked today.”
“I loved today.”
“Good.” He set his chopsticks down, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Because I was ninety-two percent sure you would, but there’s always that eight percent margin for error.”
You snorted. “You’re such a nerd”
“Maybe” He leaned back, stretching both arms along the couch behind you. “But it made today successful. I calculated the weather, your mood after work yesterday, whether you’d think the tent was weird instead of cozy, whether camellias would feel like a cop-out compared to roses…” He ticked them off on his fingers. “High confidence overall.”
“You’re insane.”
“Logically insane,” he corrected, the smirk returning—slow, self-satisfied, the same one he’d worn when he’d announced the twenty-eight-minute countdown earlier.
You leaned over and kissed the smirk right off his face, tasting the lingering spice of chili oil that still clung to his lips from dinner. He hummed into it, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing the soft skin just below your ear in a gentle, absent rhythm.
When you finally pulled back, foreheads resting together, his breathing was steadier but his eyes were still dark, pupils blown wide in the dim lamplight.
Even when the practicality included making sure you came three times, came inside you exactly as promised, cleaned you up efficiently with warm towels and careful touches, and still had the ramen piping hot when it arrived—he’d managed all of it without ever breaking that calm, deliberate focus of his.
You shifted then, swinging one leg over to straddle his lap properly again, thighs bracketing his hips. The bowls were already safely on the coffee table; there was no risk of knocking them over. The hoodie he’d tugged down earlier bunched comfortably at your waist now, soft cotton riding up just enough to let his hands settle on your lower back, palms warm through the fabric, holding you close without any urgency.
He exhaled softly against your mouth, the sound almost a sigh of contentment.
“Still think flowers are impractical?” he murmured, voice low and rough, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke.
You laughed—weak and happy, the sound muffled against the crook of his neck where you’d tucked your face.
“I think you’re allowed to be a little impractical sometimes,” you whispered back, fingers threading lazily through the damp strands at his nape. “Just… don’t make it a habit. I’d hate to lose the version of you who times everything down to the second.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, the vibration rumbling through his chest and into yours. “Deal,” he said simply.
He leaned in and kissed you once more—slow, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world now that the countdowns were over, the ramen bowls sat empty on the coffee table, and the apartment carried the quiet, intimate perfume of spicy broth, lingering sex, and the clean notes of camellias drifting from the side table.
His mouth moved against yours with deliberate tenderness— lips brushing, parting, tasting, no rush to deepen it further. Just savoring. One hand slid up to cup your jaw, thumb stroking the soft skin beneath your ear in lazy, soothing arcs; the other stayed splayed at the small of your back, fingers pressing just firmly enough to keep you anchored against him, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.
When he finally drew back only far enough that your breaths mingled, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes half-lidded and dark with something softer than hunger now. The lamplight painted warm shadows across his sharp features, turning the faint red marks from your nails into quiet proof of everything that had come before.
He didn’t speak right away but exhaled once, long and steady, like he was letting the last of the day’s careful calculations slip away.
Outside the window, the city glittered with Valentine’s lights in pink and red and white. Couples were probably still walking around with wilting bouquets and half-eaten chocolate boxes but you didn’t care.
You had camellias on the table that would last another week at least, a thermos that would keep your coffee hot until next winter, and a boy whose heart operated like an extremely well-calibrated machine—precise, efficient, ruthless in its logic and still, somehow, capable of the softest, most surprising acts of love when it mattered.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby” he said, voice barely above a whisper, like the words were just for the space between you.
You rested your forehead against his again, breathing him in.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Taehyun.”
And for once, he didn’t bother calculating the odds.
⤷ calls your name. he doesn’t want to annoy you, and if you’re actually really busy or stressed out, he’d be careful in what he does to get your attention. most of the time, a simple call of your name suffices, and it’s enough to lead to more attention from you.
「 yeonjun. 」
⤷ starts playing with your hair or your hands. he tells you to ignore him even though his whole goal is to distract you, and he especially likes it if you pretend you’re not affected by his fingers dusting over the nape of your neck or intertwining with yours.
「 beomgyu. 」
⤷ hugs you. he just comes up to you and wraps his arms around your body, enveloping you in warmth and distracting you enough for him to get your attention. he likes back hugs when you’re sitting or standing, and he’s not afraid to do it in public, either. it’s a win-win situation: he gets your attention, and he gets to hug.
「 taehyun. 」
⤷ texts you. it doesn’t matter if you’re in the same room – he probably likes seeing your reactions to his messages in real time, even though it’d be easier to say them out loud. you can’t ignore your phone blowing up with texts, so he finds you usually give in, and he then gets to spend time with you as he wishes.
「 hueningkai. 」
⤷ hovers around you. it’s honestly a little unusual but endearing, since he doesn’t want to bother you by touching you and he feels awkward about asking for attention. him hovering around you is enough to get your attention, and you know what he wants without him even having to ask.
summary: wow, you love your dedicated, sweet husband — a man who grills like a god, folds laundry like a pro, and kisses you like he’s still trying to win you over. but once upon a time? he was your worst enemy. sharp words, rolled eyes, and a rivalry that made high school unbearable… until one prophecy, one kiss, and one chaotic love story changed everything.
pairing: husband!taehyun x fem!reader
genre: enemies to lovers, slow burn, fluff, smut, domestic/family life, hint of magical realism.
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), strong language, mentions of pregnancy and parenthood, soft angst, suggestive humor, implied prophecy/magic, fluff overload.
wc: 3555
notes: hi everyone! i’ve been having a lot of recurring thoughts about dad!tae lately 👀 i truly believe that devoted husband, multitasking good father taehyun is a headcanon, and i love himmm. i hope you enjoy the story! 💛
PRESENT.
you and the girls are settled in deep garden chairs overlooking the lake, legs tucked under light blankets, iced teas sweating in your hands. it’s one of those rare, golden moments — where the breeze is gentle, the laughter is low, and the chaos feels like home.
taehyun is at the barbecue, of course, wearing that stupidly tight apron that says “dad’s the #1 bbq king”, flipping ribs like a damn pro, forearms glistening in the sun, jaw flexing as he tastes marinade off his thumb. beomgyu stands beside him, supposedly helping, though he’s clearly more interested in sneaking bites than actually grilling.
a few meters away, yeonjun is on the grass with seori and dawon, arms wide, pretending to be a dinosaur while the kids scream with laughter. soobin is up on the patio, changing baby yoonjae with the seasoned skill of a dad of two, and huening kai just pulled into the driveway, arms full of snacks and extra diapers — ever the reliable uncle.
you glance at your kids: seori and seojeong, your five-year-old twins, are building a rock castle near the water, arguing over who’s king; little jeongwoo is chewing on a toy car in chaemin’s lap. nuri, soobin and naara’s daughter, is sharing bubbles with chaeyoung, yeonjun’s two-year-old girl. it’s loud, messy, perfect. the rest of the guys are setting up the picnic tables as their wives laugh softly nearby, glowing in the late afternoon sun.
you look at the same girls who were with you the night everything changed — outside that witch’s shop, giggling and skeptical.
“sometimes I still can’t believe we’re all moms now,” naara sighs.
“well,” Hana laughs, “not all. kai and i are still happily child-free, thank you very much.”
“but not forever, right?” jiyoon teases, hand resting on her pregnant belly, six months along.
“maybe. eventually,” Hana shrugs. “when we’re not still pretending we’re twenties”
everyone laughs.
“i mean,” chaemin grins, “y/n was the first. married first. kids first. like the prophecy said.”
you roll your eyes, but your stomach still flips. that prophecy. that stupid night. that damn witch. and yet — here you are. married to taehyun. three kids. just like she said.
you glance at him now, just as he licks a bit of sauce off his finger, slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on yours from across the garden.
the fucker knows exactly what he’s doing.
you swallow hard.
“what?” he smirks, “you want a taste, baby?”
you arch a brow, arms crossed. “i’m good. i already had you for breakfast.”
he chokes on a laugh, turning back to the grill, but not before tossing a wink over his shoulder. “round two later. when the kids are asleep.”
you roll your eyes, heart fluttering anyway.
you sit down on the edge of the porch, letting the sun kiss your face.
and just like that, the memory hits.
FLASHBACK.
you remember it vividly — that summer night years ago, stumbling out of karaoke with your friends, still giggling about hana’s terrible high notes and the way naara kept butchering the lyrics. the street was buzzing, the kind of neon-washed chaos that made everything feel a little magical.
then you saw it.
that crooked little alleyway lit by flickering candles, lined with strange shops selling crystals, talismans, jars of dried things you didn’t want to identify. and right at the center — the one with the purple curtains and the wooden sign that read “destiny & darkness: magic for the brave.”
“let’s go,” chaemin had dared, already pulling you by the hand.
the woman inside looked like she’d stepped out of a fairytale — silver hair, too many rings, eyes that felt like they could see through timelines. she said she could read your futures together. and laughing, tipsy, you all agreed.
one by one, she gave vague clues to the others. but when it was your turn, she looked serious.
“you,” she murmured, taking your hand, “will be the first. first to marry. first to bear life. your fire matches his.”
you blinked. “his?”
“the boy with the sharp tongue and the hurt behind his eyes. he hides desire with cruelty. but he is yours. three children. you’ll know him when the truth hits.”
the others were already laughing. “taehyun?” naara joked, “no way. he called y/n ugly last week.”
“what the actual fuc—”
“language,” the woman snapped. “you’ll be a mother.”
you’d scoffed. you hated that cocky, smug, insufferable basketball player.
you hadn't spoken to him since that day. since he'd leaned in with that cocky smirk, expecting you'd melt like the rest of them, and when you didn’t, when you raised a brow and told him to try harder, he blinked—just once—and spat out:
“tch. you’re prettier from far away.”
you’d laughed in his face, the most venomous, biting laugh you could muster. the kind that echoed in his ears long after you walked away.
so no, you hadn't spoken since.
not until now.
it seemed like he was determined to get close to you at any cost. the first move came when he used a flimsy excuse to return your chemistry notebook, which you had purposely left on your desk. you had planned to grab it in the morning, knowing you’d need it for class first thing.
the hallway smelled like cheap disinfectant and teenage sweat. nothing unusual. but something in the air felt different. subtle. tense.
ever since that night at the karaoke bar, since the damn witch, your friends looked at you like you had property of kang taehyun tattooed across your forehead. and worse—he looked at you the same way.
now he watched you like he'd figured something out. like he knew a secret you didn’t.
you hated it.
you hated him for making you doubt everything.
you were at your locker, pulling out your books, when his voice landed behind you.
“you left this in chemistry.”
you turned. And there he was. the bastard. holding your notebook like it was breakable.
“thanks,” you muttered, flat, avoiding his gaze.
“you shouldn’t be more honest?”
your head snapped up. you met his eyes. the loosened tie, the half-buttoned shirt, that stupid unruly hair falling into his lashes. goddamn him.
“oh, thank you so much, kang taehyun,” you drawled. “you’ve saved me from failing chemistry. however can i repay you?”
he smiled.
not like before. not like the boy who laughed at everything. this one was softer. quieter. more dangerous.
“i accept offerings in snacks. or praise. preferably both. but i’ll settle for you not pretending you hate me.”
the second act occurred a week later, it was after practice, a late afternoon when the gym smelled like sweat and wood polish and the sky outside was melting into peach and violet. you were there to pick up your friend’s forgotten phone, not to run into him.
but of course, there he was. shirt half off, hair damp, alone. the others had left. he must’ve stayed behind to shoot.
you told yourself to ignore him. walk in, grab the phone, leave. simple. clean. civil.
except your damn eyes betrayed you.
you glanced.
and he caught it.
his smirk was lazy as he wiped the sweat from his jaw with his shirt. “you stalking me now?”
you rolled your eyes. “yeah. i came here just to bask in your body odor.”
he chuckled low, dribbling the ball lazily as he looked at you through his lashes. "still got that sharp mouth, huh?”
you stepped closer to the bleachers. “still got that inflated ego, huh?”
silence stretched between you, not awkward, but loaded. his dribble slowed.
then he said, quieter than you expected, “what i said that day… was a dick move.”
you blinked. his tone didn’t match the taehyun you knew — didn’t drip with arrogance, or sarcasm. it was raw, almost shy.
“…yeah,” you muttered, folding your arms. “it was.”
“i thought being an asshole was easier than—”
he stopped himself. his fingers tightened around the ball. you waited.
“than what?” you pushed, stepping off the last bleacher.
his eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and unreadable. “than actually wanting to get to know you.”
that caught you off guard. completely. and you hated that it did. hated the way your chest fluttered, hated the way his voice didn’t sound rehearsed or smooth, just… honest.
“why would you want that?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.
he took a slow step forward. “because you didn’t fall for my shit. That pissed me off. and then it interested me. and now… i don’t know. you live in my head.”
you snorted. “that’s sad.”
“i know,” he said, smiling.
you should’ve left then. should’ve walked away like you had last time.
but you didn’t.
instead, you stood there in the low light of the empty gym, heart racing, while he bounced the ball once, then let it roll.
“wanna shoot?” he asked, nodding toward the hoop.
“…i suck.”
“i’ll teach you.”
you hesitated.
then stepped onto the court.
then, the climax of the third act also arrived.
it was the end of english class when they called for the dictionaries to be returned. the library was quiet, the usual buzz of chatter replaced by the soft shuffle of pages and the sound of students neatly lining up their books. you walked over to the shelves, pulling the heavy dictionary from your bag, the weight of it making your fingers brush against the spines of other books. you weren’t paying attention to anything in particular—until you felt him.
taehyun appeared beside you, too close for comfort. his usual smirk was missing, replaced by something else, something quieter. he didn’t say anything at first, just watched as you placed the book on the shelf. the air between you felt heavier, charged. his presence was overwhelming, the scent of his cologne mixing with the musty smell of old pages.
“you know,” he said, his voice low and just for you, “i’m starting to think you really do enjoy ignoring me.”
you didn’t look at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. but then, his hand brushed lightly against yours, a casual touch that sent an unexpected jolt of warmth through your body. you froze, feeling the pull between you both, the moment hanging in the balance. you didn’t want to acknowledge it, but you couldn’t ignore it either.
before you could move away, he stepped closer, his chest almost touching your back. his breath fanned across the nape of your neck as his lips grazed the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.
“you know what i’ve been thinking?” his voice was almost a whisper now, the words teasing and close enough to make you tense. “maybe you don’t hate me after all.”
you swallowed, the tension thick in the air, and tried to step back, but his hand moved, resting just above your waist, guiding you back towards him. you could feel the heat of his body, the press of his chest against your back, and the way his lips hovered near your skin.
and then, as if it had all been building up in silence, his lips touched the side of your neck, a fleeting, hot kiss that made your heart race. he pulled back quickly, just enough to look at you, his expression unreadable.
"guess that answers my question," he murmured, his voice rough with amusement.
your breath caught in your throat. for a moment, it was as if time stopped. his teasing smile was back, but there was something in his eyes—something deeper. you were too close. everything was too close.
you turned to face him, your back now against the bookshelf, heart thudding in your chest. he was watching you—waiting, maybe even testing you. and maybe you should’ve walked away. maybe you should’ve said something scathing and left him there with his smug little smirk and sinful mouth.
but you didn’t.
instead, you tilted your chin, eyes locked on his.
“i think i have my answer too,” you whispered.
and then you kissed him.
you were the one who did it. you reached up, grabbed a fistful of his collar and dragged him down to you, your lips crashing into his with more hunger than you'd admit to anyone. your fingers curled into the soft fabric behind his neck, anchoring yourself, like you’d waited too long and couldn't wait any longer.
for a second, taehyun didn’t move. he froze, like his brain had short-circuited. then his hands found your waist—strong, warm, his—and he kissed you back like he’d been holding himself back for years. his mouth moved over yours, desperate and deep, and he pulled you against him until there wasn’t a breath of space left between your bodies. the bookshelf behind you rattled quietly as you leaned into it, not caring if the world burned around you.
and then it was over.
just like that.
you both pulled apart, lips tingling, breathing fast, eyes wide. no words. no promises. just that look—like you both knew something irreversible had just happened.
everything after that moved fast.
you started dating. somewhere between library makeouts and late-night texts that lasted until sunrise, the bickering faded and the heat stayed. then came the wedding. then came the kids. now there were sticky fingers on glass doors and toys buried in the garden, soft lullabies and sleepless nights, the scent of barbecues and baby powder and love that felt like home.
you never questioned your feelings. you loved your husband—loved him—with every bone in your body. but remembering how it all started… in the shadows of dusty shelves, hearts racing, breath stolen between whispers…
it was strange.
strange—but the kind of strange that makes a love story unforgettable.
PRESENT.
funny how things turn out. you started off hating each other—really hating each other. petty insults, eye rolls, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. and now? now you were married, sharing a mortgage, three beautiful kids, and a calendar full of playdates and parent-teacher meetings. Ironic, isn’t it? how the boy who once called you annoying is now the man who kisses your stretch marks and whispers “thank you” after every bedtime story.
the house is finally quiet. the lake outside hums instead of roars, and the soft creak of floorboards is the only sound accompanying the anxious thump in your chest.
the kids are out cold. seori curled around her unicorn plushie. seojeong half-off the bed like always. jeongwoo snuggled in a sleepy little knot in his portable crib. all your babies, safe and dreaming.
and now… your husband.
taehyun’s in the kitchen, shirtless except for that old, stretched-out tee of yours that reads “bad decisions make good stories”. his hair’s a mess. his eyes shine in the low kitchen light, and that goddamn smile’s already waiting for you.
“you should be sleeping, babe,” he murmurs, still drying a plate with a towel like he has all the time in the world.
you lean against the doorway, arms crossed. “can’t sleep. too wired. maybe it’s the leftover sugar from the s’mores.”
“or maybe it’s me.”
you shoot him a look, but he’s already tossing the towel aside, walking toward you like gravity’s pulling him.
“you looked so hot today,” he says into your neck, his voice a hush meant just for you, “watching me grill, biting your lip like that… i swear, i could feel your eyes burning through my damn apron.”
“you did it on purpose,” you mutter, your grin impossible to hold back as his hands slide around your waist.
“of course i did. i always do it on purpose.”
“you’re impossible.”
“and you’re still mine.”
he kisses you. slow at first, like he’s reminding you how it started — that ridiculous flirtation, that first real kiss in the back of the library after weeks of pushing each other’s buttons, the kind of kiss that changed everything. like he still has something to prove.
“taehyun...”
“you think i don’t still get hard every time you say my name like that?” he whispers against your mouth. “you think i forgot how to worship you just because you made me a father?”
your knees go weak. the fire in your chest spreads, low and warm and relentless.
“bedroom. now,” you say, breathless.
taehyun’s grin is all cocky pride and boyish hunger. “god, i love when you get bossy.”
“and i love when you shut up and fuck me.”
he chuckles, deep and low, then lifts you like it’s nothing, carrying you through the house without breaking the kiss. your legs wrap around him, fingers buried in his hair. and even after all this time, even after the kids and the chaos and the late-night feedings, that fire — the one the witch predicted — still burns.
and you have no intention of putting it out.
he kicks the door shut with his foot, never taking his mouth off yours. the room’s dim, the only light coming from the sliver of moon sneaking through the curtains, painting his skin silver. you gasp when your back hits the mattress, the cool sheets a sharp contrast to the heat rolling off his body.
taehyun hovers over you, eyes dark, chest rising and falling. he looks at you like he’s starving — and you know it’s not just lust. it’s you.
“god, look at you,” he mutters, dragging his fingers up your thigh, slow and reverent. “how the hell did I get this lucky?”
you laugh, breathless. “maybe it was the witch.”
he smirks, teeth flashing. “remind me to send her a fruit basket.”
you yank him down by the collar of your shirt now stretched over his torso. “just remind me why i married you.”
taehyun’s mouth crashes into yours, hot and needy, his kiss all tongue and teeth and promise. his hands are everywhere — cupping your breasts through your shirt, sliding under the hem to feel skin, gripping your hips like he wants to memorize the shape of you.
“you drive me insane,” he breathes into your neck, sucking a mark just beneath your jaw. “you’ve always driven me insane.”
“good,” you whisper, arching into him, your fingers slipping under his waistband. “then it’s mutual.”
clothes are tossed blindly — your shorts hit the lamp, his boxers land half on the nightstand — until it’s just skin against skin. his body presses into yours like he belongs there, like you were carved to fit together. and in a way, maybe you were.
he sinks between your legs, groaning low when he feels how ready you are for him. but he doesn’t rush. no, taehyun’s never rushed you — he savors, teases, worships.
“you think i don’t still fantasize about that first kiss in the library?” he murmurs against your breast, kissing it softly before dragging his tongue in slow circles. “you think i don’t remember the exact sound you made when you grabbed me?”
you whimper, fingers tugging at his hair.
“say it,” he demands, voice thick. “tell me you remember too.”
“i do,” you gasp. “i remember everything.”
his mouth finds yours again, and this time when he pushes inside you, it's slow but deep — a stretch you still crave, even now. your bodies find a rhythm that’s old and new at once, urgent but familiar, desperate but safe.
and when you come, clinging to him, moaning his name like it’s a prayer — he follows right after, burying his face in your neck, whispering “mine” over and over like a sacred chant.
after, you lie there tangled in sheets and sweat and love.
the sun barely begins to filter through the curtains when the soft cries of Jeongwoo echo through the baby monitor. you groan, stretching beneath the still-warm sheets, and feel taehyun shift beside you, arm instinctively reaching for your waist.
“your turn,” you mumble, eyes still closed.
he chuckles sleepily. “we both know i’m going either way.”
you hear him pad out of the room a moment later, humming something low and sweet as he picks up your son. soon, seori’s giggles join the morning chaos, followed by seojeong’s sleepy demands for cereal now. the house fills with life again.
you toss on a robe and follow the noise to the kitchen, where taehyun stands in that same ridiculous t-shirt, hair sticking up in all directions, a baby on one hip and a juice box in his mouth like a cigarette.
he sees you, grins.
and right there, watching your husband juggle toddlers and toast like a pro, your heart aches — in that full, quiet, overwhelming kind of way.
the house stirs quickly after that.
naara appears first, hair a mess, nuri clinging to her leg like a koala. soobin trails behind, already bouncing baby yoonjae in his arms. yeonjun comes in with chaemin, both still in pajamas, laughing about something seori said in her sleep. hana yawns dramatically as she pours herself coffee, and kai steals a pancake right off the skillet with zero shame.
the kitchen turns into controlled chaos—tiny feet pattering on hardwood, spoons clinking, someone yelling about missing socks, someone else cleaning spilled juice. taehyun bumps your hip with his as he flips another pancake, and you pretend to be annoyed, but he knows better.
outside, the lake glimmers in the morning light. another sunny day. another memory in the making.
Taehyun’s life was progressing exactly as he had predicted. A neat line. Until he was bestowed with the duty of being your personal guard. You. The Princess, second in line to the Throne. In other words, the bane of his existence.
pairings: kang taehyun x reader
genre: royal au!, guard!taehyun x princess!oc, slight angst, eventual smut
warnings: slightly mature themes, light angst, taehyun is a little mean, soogyu and seungcheol mentioned
w/c: 2.5k
a/n: i couldn’t stop thinking about guard!taehyun. the time period is not very accurate kinda like bridgerton but not really :) the second part is in the works and should be released soon enough. hope you enjoy reading <3
taglist: open, lmk and i will add you
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Kang Taehyun was a calm man. Known to be level headed and cool in any situation. Sworn into the Kings Guard at the age of 18. Sworn to protect his country, a dream he has carried since he was five years old. Nothing much could shake him.
People around him respected him but kept their distance. Something in his eyes. Also being a member of one of the closest families to the Throne made them wary.
He and the Crown Prince had grown up together. Taehyun could’ve been a Viscount, a Baron or even a Lord. Yet, he wanted to be a part of the Kings Guard. There were rumours that he would be Hand of the King once Choi Soobin ascended to the Throne.
Taehyun’s life was progressing exactly as he had predicted. A neat line. Until he was bestowed with the duty of being your personal guard. You. The Princess, second in line to the Throne. In other words, the bane of his existence.
Taehyun wondered whether those words ever meant anything to you. Second in line to the throne. That due to some unforeseen horrifying circumstance you might someday be the ruler of the Kingdom.
From the moment you were able to think, you had made it your personal agenda to undermine him. Your sharp intellect paired with your constant brattiness made every conversation he had with you a miserable affair. You questioned everything. Everything that he believed in.
Taehyun had known peace only after your father, the King, had decided to send you away to your Aunt so that you could learn to be a Lady. Someone who would finally act like someone fit for her position. You were gone from his life for three years. Life almost seemed normal to him albeit a slight ache in his heart. An ache that some might call missing.
Except now you were back. Gone was the scrawny little girl with cracked lips and nervous hands. What now stood before him was more dangerous. A woman.
Taehyun, promoted to a Chief now, hoped your brain had grown as much as your body. That you would now begin behaving properly. In a way fit for a Princess to act.
Wrong.
He should have sensed something was wrong the moment the General approached him with the proposition of being your personal guard. Initially he had refused. And yet the General persisted. Implied only he would be able to do the job perfectly. And that had worked as an ego boost. Wrong move.
From day one and a very eventful day indeed it was you had shown nothing but complete disregard to his acts of protection he was almost convinced that you were trying to either get him fired or get yourself killed. He didn’t know which one was worse.
You snuck past his guards after midnight, showing up the day after with muddied gowns and hair that distinctly smelled like hay and sometimes adorned with wild flowers. The Queen Mother would come down to visit and Taehyun would have to build up the most inane excuse as to why you were currently not attending your piano lessons. On more than one occasion he had caught you climbing up through the window to your bedroom.
And yet he never cracked. Never once complained. He would just add in another layer of security. This would lead to a few days of you giving him the cold shoulder until you figured out a way through his iron fist of security.
He wondered how you would react to his latest move, smiling to himself at the thought of your face.
-.-
Your perfume greets Taehyun before he even gets sight of you. That fresh/ floral smell you carry with you no matter where you went.
Taehyun rounds the corner to your bedchamber. You stand with your back to him. Without even realising it, Taehyun admires your posture for a second. You stand tall with your hands clasped behind your back. Your long hair undone.
You seem to be arguing with the guard beside your door. The one he had kept to ensure you wouldn’t wander around at night.
“Hand me the key now!”
“I’m sorry Madam- but- I don’t - “ Jungwon stutters, obviously intimidated by you.
“I-I-“ you mock “Stop mumbling and hand me the key or risk being fired” you tell Jungwon.
Jungwon glances around nervously before noticing Taehyun and his entire posture changes. He stands up straight, hands in salute. “Sir!”
“Relax” Taehyun tells him. He liked Jungwon. He was hardworking and seemed to be doing a much better job than your previous guards.
You turn around at the sound of Taehyuns voice. He is wearing that annoying smirk on. The one that suggests he is better than you and that you are being unreasonable.
“Would you mind explaining to me what the newest installation in my room means?” You ask Taehyun, crossing your arms and trying to look as tall as him.
Taehyun smiles to himself. It had taken a little bit of shrewd thinking to actually make it work.
“Princess, you had called for me?” he responds dropping his head in a bow. You roll your eyes at him. This was his slight reminder on how you should be acting with him.
“I’m not sure what you’re referring to-“ he starts before you drag him into your chambers.
“That one! What do you mean by it?” You tell him pointing at the bars he had installed on your windows while you were away at your piano lessons.
“Ah!” Taehyun replies in mock realisation. “Yes, I had them installed just today morning”
You round up around him. “Give me the key”
“No”
“Give them!” You tell him holding out your hand in protestation.
“So that you can go out again? And risk your life doing God knows what?” He laughs out.
You assess him for a moment. Taehyun was a smart man. The bars to your window were padlocked and you knew for a fact that Taehyun had the key. It was no use complaining about him to your parents. Whatever the man did, they believed he had your best interests at heart. And maybe he did. But that didn’t mean he could get to control where and when you go out.
Taehyun looks back at you with equal defiance. Fighting him was not going to work.
“Tyun… please” you beg him. “I promise I won’t sneak out at night” you tell him stepping closer to him as he takes a step back.
“As if” he mutters underneath his breath. “Princess, you are not fooling me this time” he tells you without even looking at you.
You take another step towards him catching hold of his arm. “Please… I won’t be able to see the stars through these bars.”
Taehyun looks down at you. It’s a mistake. You were doing that thing. Pouting. With your chest angled towards him in a way that showed him a brief of your delicious cleavage. Many a guard had fallen for this. Taehyun scoffs. Weak men, he tells himself, wiping the sweat on his brow.
“A no means no, Princess” he tells you moving away. “Good day” he tells you hurrying out your room.
“I will find someone who will pick them for me!” You shout after him.
“Good luck, my Princess” he shouts back.
You grind your teeth and fall back onto your bed. You were getting that key. No matter what.
-.-
“Can you atleast pretend like you’re listening to what im saying here?” Beomgyu huffs out.
You were lain back on the sofa, feet spread and head resting on the cushion. Piano lessons were your favourite for the fact that Beomgyu let you do whatever as long as you nodded away to his gossip.
You sigh again and Beomgyu roll his eyes.
“And what might be bothering the Princess right now?” Beomgyu drawls out and you look at him with narrowed eyes.
“I already told you to not call me that and you know very well what’s bothering me!”
Beomgyu hides his smile. He was used to your tantrums. He was fond of you if not for your sharp mouth then for the skilled pianist you were. You didn’t need him. As you had proved in your first lesson. This was just a way for you to escape your duties and the kitty parties your mother forced you to attend.
“I might know a way…” Beomgyu tells you after a beat of silence.
You quirk you brow at him.
“I already tried lock picking, it doesn’t work”
“No. Get me a copy of that lock. We could build a key based on it” Beomgyu tells you, knocking your feet of the sofa and dropping down beside you.
That has your attention. You sit up beside him with hopeful eyes.
“No promises though” he tells you quickly and you nod your head at him vigorously just as the doors burst open.
Taehyun takes note of what’s before him, you and Beomgyu sitting closer than what’s deemed proper. His eyes focus on the way yours clutch Beomgyu’s arm. Just as it had clutched his own today morning.
Beomgyu jumps up immediately “Chief! What’s wrong? What brings you here?”
“Don’t you know to knock?” You ask him not even bothering to get up or sit properly. Taehyun narrows his eyes at you.
“The Crown Prince has requested an audience with you…”
“Why would he want to meet me for?” You ask him haughtily.
“He does not, Princess. He has requested an audience with Mr. Choi” Taehyun replies with a small smile.
You feel yourself getting a little red.
“But we are having piano lessons right now! Can’t it wait?” You ask. Taehyun raises his eyebrows at you. “Sir..?” You add in
“As much as I hate to disrupt this intense session” Beomgyu snorts and tries to pass it off as a cough “the Crown Prince has informed me it’s urgent” Taehyun finishes off.
“Fine” you grumble getting up.
“Princess, don’t forget what we talked about” Beomgyu tells you as you start towards the door.
You look back to see Taehyun watching you suspiciously and you try to hide your smile as you nod at Beomgyu.
“Thank you Sir” you curtsy and step out, almost sensing Taehyuns brain trying to work out what exactly you have afoot.
-.-
Things have been calm with you for over a week now and that should’ve been Taehyuns first warning bell. He was surprised at how docile you were being. You were not giving the guards any trouble. You were at your lessons on time. He didn’t know what to make of this subdued energy.
You were scheming. Trying to find a way to get a copy of the lock. You had an inkling of an idea but you were stuck on how to execute it. You hadn’t been out for your nightly excursions for over a week now.
“The Princess has put in a request for what?” Taehyun asked roughly. The servant boy stood before him nervously.
“Wax… for her seal…Sir” he repeated nervously. Taehyun considered this. It was not unusual for you to make weird requests but he couldn’t understand the point of getting wax. Was it a new beauty trend of some sort?
“I will consider it” Taehyun tells the boy dismissively.
-.-
“What is the delay in getting me some wax?”
Taehyun assessed you for a moment. Hands on your hips, face twisted into exasperation. This doesn’t seem to be one of your tricks.
“I couldn’t figure out what you would possibly want it for” Taehyun blurts out.
“What?”
“What I meant was- why would you need wax?” Taehyun strays off. Your eyebrows have nearly touched your hairline and he feels foolish. A beat of silence passes between you two.
“Do I have to indulge you with every single little detail of my life? What’s next - a peek into my underwear drawer?” Taehyun reddens immediately and you have to suppress your smile “I’ll have you be reminded what exactly your position here is Kang Taehyun”
“I-“ Taehyun starts feeling absolutely mortified.
“No. I do not care for your explanations. Bring me a pot of wax or have me buy it myself!” you slam the door shut on his face.
-.-
The key sits before you.
You take in a deep breath to ground yourself. Finally. After all those painstaking hours you got your freedom.
Beomgyu couldn’t help but grin at your exhilaration. You look at him with sparkling eyes. You wait a moment before throwing both your arms around him.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I can’t thank you enough!” You tell him.
Beomgyu stands there taken aback before slowly wrapping his arms around you. “It’s no problem Princess” he mumbles. This was definitely a violation of a million etiquette’s but you didn’t seem to care.
You pull apart, eyes back on the key. You drop it into your bag and not a moment sooner Jungwon enters to take you back to your chambers.
-.-
The meeting room is tense. Every guard on alert. Taehyun feels the adrenaline coursing through him. He knows this to be a serious affair yet he cannot help but feel exhilarated. This was his element.
“As summarised, we have received reports of a possible invasion that could happen any time in this week” the General looks up from the maps. “We are alert and ready to face anything. Nothing has occurred so far but I implore you to not ease up. Ensure that the assets stay protected and within vicinity. We require an all time view on the family” he concludes.
Each Chief relays the position of his asset. Every single member of the Royal Family is accounted for. Taehyun reports that you are safely in your bed chamber and Jungwon backs him up. Guards are stationed in and around the palace. The meeting stands dismissed.
Taehyun and the General walk back together to his Office. The tension in the air is almost palpable.
“I know it’s not exactly easy to manage the Princess. But you have been coping very well with the responsibility. I’m proud” the General tells him with a pat to his shoulder.
Taehyun stands up straighter. Seungcheol was not simply the General he was also Taehyun’s mentor. Someone he looks upto. Someone known to never give out a compliment just for the sake of it.
“Thank you Sir, I-I will continue to do my best” he stutters out. Taehyun sympathises with Jungwon in his mind, briefly.
The General has a hint of a smile before he heads of to his office. Taehyun is also planning on going back to his but he has to first check in on Jungwon and ofcourse his asset.
Taehyun feels his stomach dropping the moment he rounds the corner. Jungwon is in quick conversation with another guard and the room to your bed chamber is thrown open.
“What’s wrong?” He asks running upto them.
“Sir- I- “ Jungwon stammers, “the Princess, she was here. I promise- but I can’t - She is missing”
Taehyun can already feel the headache building up in the back of his brain. He steps into your empty room and sure enough the bars to the window are unlocked!
that’s the end of pt.1 :) pls pls pls lmk your thoughts on this any comment/reblog/like is much appreciated. xoxo
