welcome to my masterlist! below you will find my series collection as well as my one shot collection. enjoy your stay luvs! <3 xx
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Series:
m=mature
✏️= ongoing
X= on hiatus
Teacher’s Pet | JJK (M) ✏️
professor/dilf!jungkook x student!reader or jungkook x reader
forbidden relationship!au, sneaky links to lovers au, age gap
Hooking up every so often with your English Literature professor, what's the worst that can happen? Falling in love, perhaps. Embarking on a sexual-turned-serious relationship with your professor Jeon Jungkook a month before graduation, you are as happy as can be. You, Jungkook, and his 4-year-old daughter, Dahlia. Except there's just one teeny-tiny little detail Jungkook failed to mention... that detail being his ex-wife isn't so much of an ex after all.
Teacher’s Pet M.list
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Pretty Like You | PJM (M) ✏️
feminine!jimin x female!reader or jimin x reader
enemies to lovers, feminine!jimin, self hatred au, slight identity crisis, self love journey, smut, sub!jimin, angst, fluff, heartfelt
where jimin is jealous of the beauty that is you, writes about it, and falls apart when you accidentally read it. struggling with the harsh barriers of gender rules, jimin struggles through his freshman year of college as he’s having trouble finding himself. what doesn’t help is that you’re there, in almost all of his classes, completely stunning him. channeling his frustration into his first ever thought journal, he’s almost at peace. that’s until you read it, unbeknownst to him, and everything falls apart. jimin adores you. jimin admires you. but most of all, jimin hates you.
Pretty Like You M.list
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Cigarettes After Sex | MYG (M) X
yandere!yoongi x shy!reader or yoongi x reader
yandere, dark thriller, high school au, classmates to lovers, fast burn, introvert!yoongi, broken!yoongi, shy/introvert!oc, smut, eventual fluff, heavy angst
A limited series in which a new friendship turns into something uncanny and killer. Min Yoongi, he keeps to himself and struggles with accepting or even finding love. Emancipated at a young age and held back twice due to too many absences, he’s now 19 and in his senior year of high school, living off of the money he gets from making and selling beats online. You, 18, are also in your senior year. And just like Yoongi, you have trouble finding love due to a lack of feeling loved. It’s been a week since you switched bio classes, and your new classmate has caught your eye. However, just like him, you talk to no one. Can the shy girl get the shy boy? And if so, will she be able to endure getting much more than anticipated…
Cigarettes After Sex M.list
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More series are yet to come. . .
One Shots:
☆= smut ♡= fluff ☾= drabble
Each of the works down below are below 10k words !!
a/n: each of the works on the lists are listed from newest to oldest!! (however the order of the members is completely random)
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—YOONGI.
All Night | KNJ ft. MYG ☆
In which listening to music during a smoke sesh with your best friends Namjoon and Yoongi in the studio turns into much more.
Midnight Musician | MYG ☆♡
Waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of your boyfriend playing piano, you follow the noise and end up getting more from him than just a sideshow.
Sunday's Sunset | MYG ☆♡
You and your boyfriend Yoongi spend a lazy late Sunday afternoon in bed, attempting to make soft and intimate love that inevitably turns rougher.
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—NAMJOON.
All Night | KNJ ft. MYG ☆
In which listening to music during a smoke sesh with your best friends Namjoon and Yoongi in the studio turns into much more.
Friendship & Erotica ☆
Your best friend Namjoon gets turned on while reading an erotica in your shared hotel room and decides to accompany you in the bathroom as you prepare for a bath.
Dainty Distractions ☆
While your boyfriend Namjoon takes a business call in the kitchen, you decide to walk out in lingerie and touch yourself in front of him.
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—JUNGKOOK.
in my eyes | JJK ♡
Jungkook is tired of the way you look at yourself and decides to draw out exactly how he sees you in his eyes, in the end making you second guess your self-image entirely and fall in love with him all over again.
accidental | JJK ☾☆
In which your boyfriend Jungkook accidentally turns you on right before bed.
All Mine | JJK ☆ *COMING SOON*
Showing up to the annual company banquet in a risque outfit, Jungkook can't stand the amount of eyes on you. Eager to channel his frustration, he takes you to his office.
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—JIMIN.
sleepless | PJM ☾☆
Hundreds of miles away and unable to sleep, Jimin calls you from his hotel room to help with his loneliness and neediness.
Remind Me | PJM ☆♡
After a dinner where Jimin’s cousin was a little too infatuated with you, you assure Jimin that your heart is set on him and only him and he proves his love back to you in bed.
Summary: It’s not that he’s always had rave reviews and it’s not like he is so into himself to think that everyone is into him, but he’s never failed to make a girl orgasm before. At least until you. And at least he thinks he’s always managed to please the people he’s been with. But you’ve planted a seed of doubt in his mind, made him think that maybe he doesn’t quite have the moves he thinks he does, and now you’ve worked your way into his head he can’t get you out.
Pairing: Taehyung x reader
Genre: College/Uni au, strangers to lovers, smut, angst, fluff
Word count: 20k
Warnings: Verbal sexual abuse (nothing too bad but a warning nonetheless), (legal) alcohol consumption, the pov changes throughout the story, miscommunication, Explicit sexual content, oral (f receiving), kind of public sex, dirty talk, protected sex, there’s a one night stand, I don’t even know anymore, there’s sex and there’s angst basically.
Authors Note: Where did this come from? Your guess is as good as mine. I have so many story ideas and then this just came and took over me and voila! I hope you enjoy!
Y/N
Hot, deep breaths fan across your neck. Damp strands of hair tickle your skin where they fall from his head. He flopped down onto you as soon as he came, a strangled noise leaving him before his hips stuttered to a stop. He at least caught himself before crushing you; that at least is a point in his favour.
You give him some time to recompose himself, run your fingertips lightly down his back to comfort him. You’re biding your time until he moves off you, don’t want to physically push him away and don’t want to verbally ask him to move. And really this is one of the nicest parts of the whole exchange, not that the sex was bad, it just wasn’t... amazing. It was good, possibly above average, but nothing to write home about. You don’t really know why you expected anything different, he’s hot, beyond hot, and in your experience it’s those guys that tend to get a little cocky, think that’s enough on its own, lack finesse. They become selfish to their own desire.
He’s still hovering over you, still in you. His chest still moving up and down as he continues to take large lungful’s of air, his skin touching yours with every expel of air. He really exerted himself. You could tell, he was really going for it right before he came, his hips pounding against yours. He was obviously enjoying it, but to you it was just, fine. You’d enjoyed it, gained some form of pleasure from it. You’ve had worse, but you’ll surely have better.
There’s a deep chuckle, the noise going right through you as it’s released near your ear. And then there’s a shift of weight as the man pulls away from you.
You wince as he pulls out of you and then he rolls away, getting up to stand in the room, you roll the other way.
“That was amazing,” his voice sounds out from behind you.
You hum, a light noise you don’t think he hears but let out anyway.
There’s some rustling behind you as you put your feet onto the floor. You slip your pants on before pulling the dress you were wearing tonight over your head. You rake your fingers through your hair, mirrorless you just have to hope the strands are sitting flat on your head. You glance down at the floor, search for any other items that belong to you, bend down when you notice the bra you can just shove in your bag.
“Oh,” you hear the disappointment thick in his voice, slow your movements down as you pick up your bra, mentally prepare yourself for the conversation that’s about to happen.
You plaster a small smile on your face as you stand, back still to the man, you take a small breath in as you twist to look at him. The time you bought yourself has at least given him a chance to school his face into a neutral look. Good, hopefully this won’t be too painful.
You wait, back in the dress you wore to the house party, bra now in your hand and not clasped around your back, hair not neatly styled, make-up probably smeared across your face. He stands naked in front of you. The rustling was obviously nothing to do with him collecting something to wear and more to do with him discarding the condom. Still, he doesn’t seem embarrassed by his nakedness, not that he has anything to be embarrassed about, but you at least respect that he can stand there proudly, no feeling that he should cover up.
“You don’t have to – I mean – I wasn’t going to ask – if you want -” He stops, takes a breath to recompose himself, lets a small awkward chuckle loose, itches the back of his neck. “I’ve already said it, but that was amazing. I had a really good time.”
You nod at him, lift your lips into a small smile. He itches the back of his neck again, eyes drift away from you to look at a spot on the wall behind you.
“You don’t have to rush off. I mean you can stay if you want. Not, like, overnight if you don’t want to. But I have tea?”
It’s sweet how he’s gone from the cocky-knows-he’s-handsome guy to this. Your lips twitch, threatening a more genuine smile.
“I’m just going to head off,” you say and to his credit, he doesn’t let the disappointment show too much. “But thanks.”
You start to move towards the door that you entered through earlier in the night. Pick up a few bits from the floor as you come across them.
It takes him a second, maybe your words haven’t quite registered in his mind, or maybe he’s just not used to rejection, but as you close in on the door he finally moves. As you reach down for your bag, he reaches for his pants, shoves them on as you shove your bits into the bag.
“Ok,” he says. “Well, I meant it when I said that was amazing. I had a lot of fun.”
You nod again, eyes focused on your bag as you manoeuvrer your bra around your lipstick and purse. After a beat you look up at him, give a small closed lipped smile before carrying on to your destination. You hear his steps trailing behind yours as you go down the hallway.
Maybe you should feel bad. Some people would label you a bitch, others a slut. But you don’t really care; you don’t want to stay, so why should you? It was nothing personal, you rarely stay for long, just something you don’t want to do. You’ve known plenty of men who do it, sleep around, have one-night stands, don’t do committed relationships, and yet they never get the same labels as you. So you try to not let any guilt seep in as you make your way to the front door.
You plop down onto the floor so you can better slip your trainers on. Focus on tying the laces and not on the figure looming over you.
“Can I get your number?” He asks. “Or can I give you mine? I’d love to do this again. Maybe meet somewhere other than a house party?”
You wince to yourself as you don’t answer him. Try to convince yourself that he’s the one that’s making this worse. But then you could just accept his number, it doesn’t mean you have to contact him. But you don’t want to give him any false hope. You’ve waited by a message-less phone enough times to not want to do that to someone else. Still, you feel like a bit of a dick for not even answering the man.
Shoelaces tied, you stand up, face the man to at least give some form of goodbye before you walk out his door. You’re at least not that much of a twat.
You’re met with his bare chest, have to crane your neck backwards so that you can meet his eyes.
“Did I do something wrong? Have I offended you somehow?”
You swallow, take a shallow breath before you plaster another small smile on your face. You try to at least not be patronising about this.
“No, it’s fine. It was good, I just want to leave now,” you shrug as if it’s no big deal, because it’s not.
You see his eyebrows pinch together, can almost see the calculations running through his head, slowly adding up everything to get his answer.
“You didn’t enjoy it?”
“No, I did,” you’re quick to jump in and correct him. “It was good Taehyung.”
His head tilts, whether because you’ve said his name, something you have no doubt that he thinks you’ve forgotten, or whether because he doesn’t believe you, you’re not sure.
“You just didn’t find it as good as I did.”
“I had fun, I enjoyed it. I don’t need to orgasm to enjoy sex.”
A look of shock passes over his face, and you know you’ve put your foot in it before he speaks.
“You didn’t come?”
You close your eyes for a second. Is he really this obtuse?
“It’s fine. Like I said, I had fun,” you know you’ve lost him, know he won’t believe the words even though they’re the truth. “I just also want to leave now. It’s nothing against you, seriously.”
You shuffle backwards, blindly look for the handle of the door so you can make your escape. Taehyung at least doesn’t follow you, just stands staring at your retreating figure.
“It was good. And you know, I’m happy you enjoyed it too,” you find the handle and wrench the door open but pause long enough to give him another small smile. “I’ll see you around? Maybe at another flat party?”
You don’t wait for an answer, just give one last smile and then twist on the spot. You pull the door closed behind you and then just keep walking. There are a few others’ seeping in from their night outs, you give them all small smiles as you walk through the halls back to your own room.
Taehyung
“Have any of you ever had mind-blowing sex that the other person didn’t enjoy?”
“Good morning, Tae. Thank you for the coffee. How was your weekend?”
Taehyung frowns at Seokjin. “I didn’t buy you coffee?”
“Exactly,” Seokjin throws his hands wide as if he’s had a big argument and he finally has someone on his side. “Please, at least buy me something hot before diving into a conversation about sex.”
Taehyung’s frown deepens at the man. Is he making some weird joke again? He seems to make so many obscure jokes that Taehyung finds it hard to decipher when he’s being serious and when he’s joking.
“Who did you have this mind-blowing sex with?” Jimin draws all eyes to him, ignoring Seokjin completely.
“Some girl I met at a party,” Taehyung’s voice dips as if becoming less sure about bringing this topic of conversation up.
“Sounds hot.”
“And how do you know she didn’t enjoy it?” Jimin ignores Seokjin.
“She told me,” Taehyung shrugs.
Seokjin lets out a breath, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “Phew, that’s harsh.”
“Well, she didn’t exactly say she didn’t enjoy it. Or that I was bad. In fact, she said she had a good time, it’s just that she left so fast that it didn’t quite seem like she had a good time.”
He doesn’t know why he’s defending you. Doesn’t really know why he’s bringing you up at all. But ever since you left that night, he can’t stop thinking about you. Maybe it’s because no one’s ever left him quite like that before, no one’s ever been quite so blunt before, no one’s ever told him that he was bad at sex. Not that you said that, but you’d implied it. You hadn’t come for Christ’s sake. He’d certainly never had that before. Or at least he doesn’t think he has.
Whatever it was, you’d caught his attention. The sex was amazing, he wasn’t lying about that, and he would definitely be up for doing it again. It’s just that, now he doesn’t exactly know how to go about doing it again. You’d not even left your number as you ran out the door. And now he’s slightly paranoid that the next person he sleeps with will be leaving a similar review. He needs to work out what was so wrong with what he did so he doesn’t make the same mistake again.
“Have you got a small dick?” Seokjin asks it as if it’s an everyday question, something you ask alongside what’s your name?
“What?” Taehyung splutters.
“Comparing sizes again Jin? I thought we’d established you’ve won the competition for smallest penis.”
“Fuck off Yoongi,” Seokjin says it lightly even as his ears burn red. “We’re actually talking about Taehyung’s poor performance this weekend.”
“I never said my performance was bad,” Taehyung grumbles.
“It obviously was if you couldn’t make her come,” Jimin chips in and while Taehyung gives him a look of betrayal, Seokjin tips his pen at him in agreement.
“Jesus, are you guys dim?” Yoongi sighs, routing through his bag to get his books out. “You could have the biggest dick ever and not be able to please a girl. Or you could have the smallest and still blow her mind. Size doesn’t matter.”
“Spoken like a man with a truly minuscule penis.”
There’s a slight chuckle at Seokjin’s words but it quickly dies at the look that passes over Yoongi’s face.
“I know size doesn’t matter. But, I’ve just never had any complaints before.”
“I doubt that,” Yoongi mumbles clear enough for everyone to hear.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Taehyung sits up defensively.
“You’re saying that every time you’ve had sex the girl has come?”
Taehyung looks around to Jimin and Seokjin as if in support but both look at him blankly.
“Yeah.”
Yoongi huffs out some air in amusement but doesn’t say anything as he focuses back on the textbook in front of him.
“Why is that so unbelievable?”
“Have you actually ever spoken to a woman after sex before?” Yoongi refocuses on Taehyung.
“Yeah?” Taehyung says the word more like a question, as if he isn’t actually sure if he has or not.
“But like, have you asked if they enjoyed it? Or, I don’t know, did you ask at the start what they like?” Yoongi pauses, but there’s not enough time for Taehyung to answer, really, he knows Yoongi isn’t expecting him to say anything. “Maybe ask her if she’s enjoying herself before the end next time. Just a thought.”
Taehyung nods as Yoongi looks back down at his textbook. He does do that, doesn’t he? Maybe not this weekend, maybe not explicitly at least, but he’s done it in the past. Hasn’t he?
He’s at least done what a girl has asked in the past, touched her where she’s asked, gone harder or slower when prompted and there was that one slightly weird time when the girl wanted to be pressed against the fridge when he entered her. Surely one of those times it was because he started the discussion. He’s not a dick, he realises the act is a two-way street. Sure, he wants to feel pleasure at the end of it, but he also hopes the person he’s doing it with is feeling good too.
“Different people are into different things,” Jimin speaks up as if seeing Taehyung’s inner turmoil. “Maybe this girl just wasn’t into it. Doesn’t mean the next won’t be.”
Taehyung nods again. Yeah, that makes sense too. He’s definitely rocked some girl’s worlds. And he’s also had some less than desirable sex himself. Maybe it’s not him, or at least not something he’s inherently doing wrong, just that him and this one girl aren’t compatible in the sex department.
But it still doesn’t really add up. How could he have such amazing, please-let’s-do-it-again sex and she just doesn’t?
“And you got laid. You should at least be happy with that. It’s more than a lot of these losers can say,” Seokjin adds, doing a wide gesture with his hand.
“That hand better not be pointed at me,” Yoongi says, eyes not looking up from his book.
Seokjin chuckles, clearly happy to be pushing Yoongi’s buttons and then drops his hand in favour of clicking on his keyboard. “Anyway, now that’s over, I wanted to ask about this essay I have to write on Lord of the Rings. Surely one of you nerds have watched it.”
It plays on his mind. Not enough to dominate, more a lingering thought in the back of his mind.
He knows his friends are right, that you not orgasming doesn’t necessarily reflect badly on him, but he still can’t get it out of his head. What if others he’s been with have faked it? What if he isn’t as good as he thought. Not that he thought he was some master, but, he’d never exactly had a problem picking up girls and well, he thought they enjoyed sleeping with him; some had even slept with him twice.
So, yeah, it was probably just that one time. And that’s fine. Even you had told him it didn’t matter. You’d still had a good time.
But, still, something plays on his mind.
He doesn’t really expect to see you around, but it’s not the biggest campus, so it also doesn’t come as much of a surprise when he walks into the union café to see you sat at one of the tables.
You haven’t clocked him, too busy studying whatever’s written in front of you. And as Taehyung queues he tries to work out if it would be weird to go over and take that empty seat opposite you. Ok, maybe taking the seat is a bit too keen, but just to stand and say hi, is that also too much?
He deliberates as he shuffles forward towards the till. Keeps glancing over his shoulder to see whether you’ve noticed him yet, whether you’ve become a mass of dust due to the speed in which you’re try to get away from him. You had left quickly the other night. Hadn’t seemed keen to stick around even though he wanted you to. Maybe he should respect that, maybe he shouldn’t force his presence on you if you don’t want it.
You don’t go though, don’t clock him, unless you’ve seen him in the short bursts he’s not been staring at you. You stay, sat reading your textbook.
Taehyung’s drink arrives before he can make up his mind. As he puts the heat sleeve on his takeaway cup, he knows what he’s going to do. Really, he’s known since he saw you.
“Hey,” your eyes shoot up at his voice, wide as if your mind is half stuck in the text you were reading and half trying to take in who’s talking to you. “Y/N, right?”
A few emotions flick across your face, some too fast to read, but he’s pretty sure he sees shock and worry in there. Your face finally settles on something neutral though, one of those small, fake smiles you gave him the other night coming to your lips. You sit up taller, lean back into the seat now you’re looking up at him and not hunched over your book.
“Sorry if I’m disturbing you,” Taehyung gestures to your table, now not so sure he should have come over. Why did he even come here? What has he got to say? “I just saw you and thought I’d come say hi.”
Your smile seems to settle into something a bit more genuine. Body relaxing a touch as if you were expecting him to say something he hasn’t. He wouldn’t call the feeling that blooms in him pity, maybe guilt dashed with a bit of anger at the fact that you’d feel like you have to put your guard up around men like him because some had so clearly not been nice to you. What dicks have you encountered to be worried about him approaching you? Whoever they are, he’s already not a fan of them.
“You’ve caught me at a good time, I was just about to have a tea break.”
He looks at the empty mug your eyes drift to and his eyes pop open in surprise.
“Oh,” he inwardly curses himself for being so awkward. “Can I pay for a refill?”
He sees the uncertainty start to creep back into you, can almost see you debating the risks to letting him buy you a tea, as if then you’d then owe him something.
He places his takeaway cup down on the table, hoping you’d let him turn it into a stay in drink and then takes his wallet out his pocket.
“Please, let me get it,” he tries to sound as genuine as he can without sounding like he’s begging. “How do you take it?”
There’s a pause long enough that he thinks you’ll deny him, but then you speak. “Milk, one sugar, please.”
He beams, smile so wide he’s sure people outside probably think he’s just been told he’s won the lottery. Before you can change your mind, or label him as a freak for looking so happy at the idea of buying someone a hot drink, he turns and head’s back to the counter.
It doesn’t take much time to get your tea, so he is back handing you the mug in no time.
He lingers for a few seconds before deciding that it’s weird to just stand and he should sit down. You wouldn’t have let him buy you a drink if you didn’t want him to stay.
“I can’t stay long, I have a lecture at 3,” he says as he pulls up a chair as if to reassure you that he isn’t invading your space.
You smile at him, unbothered, before you lightly blow on your drink, steam rising into your face.
“So, what were you studying before I disturbed you?”
Your lips tweak at the edges as if you’re finding this whole thing highly amusing, though Taehyung is failing to see the humour. He is being highly awkward, but he doesn’t know what to say, just knows he wants to talk to you.
“Feudalism in the 15th century.” You must see the dumb struck look on Taehyung’s face as you let out a light chuckle before clarifying, “I study Politics.”
“Ah, right,” he says, as if that explains everything.
“What about you?”
“Art History,” he says. “The subject for every failed artist.”
“And are you? An artist that is.”
“I think failed is the key word,” he smiles when you let out a laugh. “Nah, I mean I never really tried to begin with, so I can’t have really failed.”
“I guess that’s one way of looking at it,” you smile at him.
He shrugs, taking a sip of his drink before talking. “It’s more of a hobby, not something I really want to do. I mainly paint abstract faces. Kind of weird.”
You smile at him again but don’t reply verbally. A silence falls over the two of you, heavy and awkward. He doesn’t know you, doesn’t know what to ask. He’s never normally like this, can talk to anyone about anything, but the only things that are running through his head are things regarding sleeping together.
Taehyung toys with his phone, checks the time, and then thinks, why the hell not. It’s been playing on his mind so much and now you’re sat here, maybe you can just answer him. You might be the only person that can silence the thoughts of doubts.
“About the other night,” he starts and your eyes flash before you look down at your mug. He feels bad for making you feel awkward, but not so bad to stop him from carrying on. “I just want to apologise again if I did something wrong.”
You shake your head in a way that shows you’re not surprised by the question, but it annoys you all the same.
“I already told you, there’s nothing to apologise for. I had a good time.”
Just like the other night, the words do nothing to make him feel any better.
“But,” he leans in closer, voice dipping in volume. “You said you didn’t come.”
You let out an exasperated laugh. “Really?” You raise your eyebrows at him as if not believing him, but you must realise he’s not lying as you carry on. “Taehyung, a lot of girls find it hard to orgasm from penetration alone.”
His face scrunches. Sure, he’d heard that before, he’d just never experienced it. Well, until you that is. He kind of assumed it was one of those folklores or old wives tales that isn’t actually true.
“You know, you have ten fingers,” you smile at him as if finding this whole thing highly amusing. “I’m sure you could get really inventive with them.”
He can feel his face heating and he’s pretty sure, if your smile is anything to go by, he is also going bright red. He’s not normally shy about talking about sex, but there’s something about you, or maybe it’s just the fact you’re so blatantly calling him out. Either way, he feels awkward as hell, wishes he never brought the topic up. What had he even expected from this? You’d called him out the other night, why wouldn’t you call him out again now?
He checks his phone as if looking at the time, but he see’s nothing, doesn’t take in the numbers that are displayed there.
“Right. Yep. Great,” he tries to sound unbothered, but knows he’s spluttering out any word that comes to his head.
“Seriously, don’t take it personally. Just a tip for the next person.”
He doesn’t really hear what you’re saying over the scrap of his chair on the floor. He’s making this ten times worse by running away, didn’t intend to get so flustered, but he’s in too deep to back out now.
“Well thanks,” he pauses long enough to look down at you, a beaming smile now on your lips. “And nice to see you. It’s a bit of a walk to the lecture though and I hadn’t quite realised the time.”
You nod at him and he can quite clearly see the giggle you’re supressing.
He nods back at you before turning on his heels and rushing out the door. The cold air does nothing to stop the heat in his cheeks.
Y/N
It always feels cheap to go to a party with no booze. You’d probably get turned away, or at least get some less than appealing looks if you didn’t turn up with some beers. But you’re a poor student. Though everyone in the house could lay claim to that, some seem to care less about spending all their money on alcohol.
Clutching the pack of cheap beer in your hand you weave your way through the already crowded room. You’re not the biggest drinker anyway, enjoy a party, but you’ve spent too many days of your youth getting drunk in fields to enjoy doing it now.
The kitchen is full of people talking and pouring drinks. You easily slip your beer into the corner and then pick up a cup to pour someone else’s gin in. No one even bats an eye as you add the mixer.
“So, hear me out,” a voice says behind you. “Tom said he’d meet us at Velvet tonight and I know for a fact that he’s bringing Rich.”
“You mean Dick,” another more feminine voice adds.
“Just because he’s hopelessly in love with me but is too scared to admit it doesn’t make him a dick.”
You spin when your drink is made, met with the faces of a man and woman, both have smiles on their faces despite their bickering. You take a sip of your drink as you watch them.
“I just think Dick is a far more fitting nickname than Rich,” the girl shrugs.
“Y/N, tell her, we’re going to Velvet right,” the man pouts at you.
Before you can even think of replying though, the girl speaks up. “Of course we’re going to Velvet.” She steps up to the counter next to you, grabbing a cup and pouring out the same drink you’ve just made. “And when I say we, I mean me and you,” she adds, eyes firmly on the man.
“What the hell does that mean?” You ask, offended.
“Who was it last time Usama?” The girl smiles at the man, who has just as big a smile on his face. You silently seethe at them.
“I think the question is more, how long was it before she left us last time, Helena,” Usama replies.
You know they’re teasing, your best friends, the only people who you know don’t judge you. It would be pretty rich if they did, they may not sleep with as many people as you do, but they’re not exactly angels.
“I get it guys, I’m flaky. I’ll endeavour to do better,” you say.
“Please don’t,” Helena says, placing an arm around your neck and pulling you into her side. “It’s nice to know that at least one of us is getting dick.”
“Even if that dick is less than par,” Usama adds.
You laugh, rolling your eyes. “It wasn’t less than par.”
You can’t him over the loud music, but you know from the face Usama is pulling that he is humming in a way that would indicate he doesn’t agree with you. You don’t care, Taehyung wasn’t less than par, it just seems that no one believes you.
“He was hot,” Helena backs you. “Usama is just jealous he could never get someone that good.”
“Excuse you,” Usama looks as if his mother has just been insulted. “Harry was hot. You admitted Harry was hot.”
Helena looks at you, rolling her eyes and giving you a look as if it pains her to say the words, “Harry was hot.”
A satisfied smile blooms on Usama’s face at the words. “He was, wasn’t he.”
“Unlucky that he is the only hot person you’ve slept with.” Helena manages to step out the way just before Usama’s hand would have slapped her arm.
“Anyway, it’s not all about how hot a person is. Y/N will be the first to say that’s not equal to good sex.”
“You know I’m stood right here,” you say incredulously.
“Exactly, you can ask her now,” Usama says, looking at Helena as if waiting for her to do just that.
“Let’s just actually join this party, rather than stand like losers in the corner,” you roll your eyes, pushing off the counter.
“Speak for yourself,” Usama mumbles, but still follows when you start to walk out the room.
The party is much like any house party you’ve attended. Far too many people crammed into the dark space, all with drinks in their hands, all shouting over the loud music making it even harder to think let alone hear anything. You kind of love it though. The sweaty heat from all the bodies. Watching everyone interact. Catching someone’s eye and not knowing where the night might take the two of you.
You push through the mass of people, finding a space big enough for the three of you to stand and bob along to the music playing.
You’re not sure who’s party this is, who’s house this is. Usama had messaged the details in the group chat and you and Helena had accepted. A thing that happens most weekends and a fair few weeknights. It’s one of the reasons you don’t enjoy drinking too much; you take your studies seriously, actually want to do well, and that has never been synonymous with drinking a lot at parties. You need to wake up and do some work tomorrow and you won’t be able to do that if you’re hungover.
It doesn’t mean you don’t have a good time. You smile as you watch Usama throwing some shapes, smile even wider when you notice some of the disgruntled faces around him. He doesn’t care that his arms are hitting people, in fact you think the looks may be encouraging him.
Helena looks like she’s in her own little world too. Eyes closed, head leant back on her neck she sways as if listening to a ballad not the heavy bass tune playing.
You join them. Doing a simple two step, shoulder and arms moving to the rhythm playing. You continue to look around the room as you move, smile as you watch a group of boys awkwardly sway to the beat, a couple in the corner are already passionately making out, and a boy is dancing just as enthusiastically as Usama. The smile comes easily to your face as you continue to bop.
“You never told me he’s friends with Park Jimin,” your arm is tugged into a grasp as a voice hisses into your ear.
You turn, confused to find Usama gripping your arm in a vice, but his eyes are trained on a spot in the opposite direction to you. You try to see what he’s looking at but nothing you see adds up to whatever he’s talking about.
“You need to take us over there and introduce us,” Usama continues, oblivious to the fact you have no idea what he’s going on about.
“I don’t know Jimin,” you say.
At that, Usama looks at you. His face looks as if you’re stupid, as if you don’t know what you’re talking about, and if you’re honest, you have to agree with him.
“Of course you don’t know him,” he says as if it’s obvious. “But you know him.”
You look back over to where he points, and it’s as if everyone hears, the bodies parting enough to give you the perfect view of who he is looking at.
Taehyung.
You feel your face drain of blood, though you are unsure why. His back is to you, but you still know it’s him. Though you wouldn’t pretend to know him well, the curves of his body and the curls of his hair are unmistakably him.
“I don’t think I should,” you say already knowing what Usama is going to ask.
“Come on,” Usama whines, pulling on your arm. “Call it an early birthday present.”
“Your birthday isn’t until May.”
“Then Christmas,” he amends and before you can further protest, he’s talking again. “Please, Y/N. Do it for me.”
You sigh, looking back over to Taehyung’s back. He still hasn’t noticed you.
You look at Helena and she gives a small shrug as if to say why not? Another look at Taehyung and you know what you’re going to do. You can’t tell if the feeling of wanting to go and speak to him, regardless of Usama begging for it, is a good thing or not.
You look back at Usama, hope sparkling in his eyes. At least you can hide your want to see Taehyung under the vice of Usama wanting introductions.
“Ok,” you’ve barely got the word out before you’re being dragged across the room.
You throw the few people you bump into apologetic smiles as something akin to nerves curl in your stomach. You shouldn’t feel nervous, don’t normally when you see someone you’ve slept with. But there’s something about Taehyung.
All too soon your approaching Taehyungs back, can more clearly see the people stood with him. Why is it that attractive people seem to attract each other? Because that seems to be exactly what’s happening here. You thought Taehyung was good looking, but now, met with three other handsome men and two beautiful women, you’re not as sure he is quite as hot as you thought. Still hot, just not as godly maybe.
You hardly notice being shoved in front of Usama, landing right next to Taehyung. Don’t notice the way his gaze falls to your face to see who it is, the way his eyes light up in realisation, the smile that spreads its way across his face. You don’t see any of it happen, only look up at him when it’s all fixed in place, think the look was something on his face before you arrived.
“Hi,” you say all eyes in the group on you. “I saw you from over there and thought I’d come say hey.”
Lame, so utterly lame. You wish Usama had given you more time to prepare. Or had just told you what to say. You kind of want the floor to swallow you up, or at least to be able to control time enough to reverse a few minutes so you can start this over.
There’s an elbow poking harshly into your side. “Right,” you twist to see the large, forced smile of Usama. “This is Usama. And this is Helena.” You point at them respectively. “And this is Taehyung.”
You look back at him to see the same smile on his face, his eyes still on you as if they never left. You shy under it, unable to maintain the look. Instead, you look around at the group who are watching you and Taehyung, let out a small hi as you meet all their eye contact.
“Nice to meet you,” you hear Taehyung say to your friends. “This is Jin, Jimin, Becky, Yoongi and Sarah.”
You feel Usama move as Taehyung gives the introductions. “I think we have a mechanics lecture together.”
Jimin doesn’t look phased by the statement so directly pointed at him, just smiles and says, “with McConnell?”
You don’t think you’ve ever seen a smile as big as the one that overtakes Usama’s face, and you know before he takes a step towards Jimin that you’ve lost him. If you’re being honest, you knew you lost him as soon as he asked you to come over here.
Helena easily slips into the space Usama created, her face looking a lot less welcoming.
“So you’re Taehyung?”
You internally groan, don’t miss the way his eyebrows raise with the knowledge you’ve clearly spoken about him.
“The one and only,” he replies and must see the knowing look that passes over Helena’s face as he asks, “I hope it’s a name you think is synonymous with good things?”
“I guess it’s subjective,” she says.
“What have you heard then?” His eyes flick to your face briefly before settling back on Helena.
“You have a Pomerania dog and you enjoy dancing in your spare time.”
His eyes flare wide, clearly not expecting that. You weren’t expecting it, Helena has been holding out information on you. But the look that crosses Taehyung’s face far outweighs the shock. You struggle to supress the giggle that rises in you.
“And those are bad things?”
“I told you, it’s subjective,” she shrugs. “Is it also true you took a job thinking it was for a nude model but turned up and found out too late it wasn’t?
The giggle is impossible to hold back now, and from the redness that creeps across Taehyung's face, you’re pretty sure it’s not a lie. Yep, you definitely need to find out what else Helena is keeping from you.
“You dance in your spare time? You’ll have to show me tonight,” you save him, and he gives you a grateful look.
“Jimin is the true dancer, I just join him. More for a laugh then anything,” he says.
“Still, I’d love to see.”
Are you really flirting with this man right now? And so shamelessly in front of his and your friends? Your face heats as realisation dawns on you. You were supposed to be sticking to your policy of not giving him any false hope. At least that’s what you’d been trying to do with him up until now.
“It’s not Tae’s dancing you want to see, mine will blow your mind.” A tall, broad-shouldered man approaches you, drawing your eyes away from Taehyung, and saving you from whatever that situation was. Jin, you think was what Taehyung called him.
“Yeah, it will blow your mind, just not in a good way,” Taehyung directs it at you but it’s loud enough for Jin to hear.
You laugh. “I think that makes me want to see it more.”
Jin’s face transforms with the smile that comes over him. He looks devastatingly handsome.
“Then I will be sure to show you.”
He does show you. And it does blow your mind, and you can’t really tell if he’s good or terribly bad. He’s expressing himself at least and you guess that isn’t a bad thing.
You lose Taehyung somewhere along the way, end up spending more time with his friends than him. Which, though you strangely feel sad about, you think is probably the better thing. You shouldn’t lead him on. Your new mantra it seems.
You still watch him though, see him do shots with his friends, watch him laughing, think you see Helena and Usama interrogating him at some point and when you try and save him Jimin conveniently steps in your way for a conversation.
And just like you watch him, you see him watching you too. Occasionally catch his eye when you look over at him, you sometimes give him a small smile, but mostly keep your eyes moving as if you weren’t looking at him and instead were just passing your eyes over in that general direction. You don’t buy it, and you know he doesn’t either.
Still, you don’t approach him, and still he doesn’t approach you. Hang around in the same group but don’t have any time together. Better that way, you remind yourself.
Usama disappears with Helena to a club at some point, they ask if you want to join but you say you’ll just see them another night. You don’t miss the fact that Jimin leaves with them. You talk to Jin a bit longer, before deciding that you just want to go home. You say goodbye to the few people around you, unable to see Taehyung you decide to just go to the loo and slip out. He probably won’t even realise you’ve gone.
You push your way through the thinning crowds, make your way to the stairs.
“Where are you going?”
You jump at the voice, turn to see Taehyung looking down at you. His pupils look large from alcohol no doubt. He has a small, attractive smile on his face. Looking at him, stood so close, you realise why it was a good idea to stay away from him tonight. You twist away from him again, eyes focused back on the stairs.
“The toilet,” you say as you continue to walk.
“The one on the top floor is the best,” his voice trails after you letting you know he’s following you. “It doesn’t get as many people going to it. Quieter.”
You can hear the connotation in his words but don’t stop to reply. Feet continue to go up the stairs. The first-floor hallway isn’t busy, only a single person milling around, but you still follow Taehyung’s advice and continue up the stairs to the top floor.
“Are you planning on watching me piss too?”
There’s a low laugh behind you. “I just wanted to talk to you. I haven’t really had much of a chance tonight.”
You pause long enough to look at him behind you, he’s far closer than you expect. You nearly trip on the step above you, but catch yourself before you fall backwards, and then turn and carry on your way. Taehyung’s steps continue to follow you.
“And you thought the best time for that is now?”
“I can wait outside,” you can almost hear the smile on his lips, but don’t trust yourself to look at him again.
“Well I’m sure as hell not inviting you in.”
Another laugh from him, and you’re glad he can’t see your face to see the smile that comes from the sound.
“I just wanted to see if you’d give me another chance,” a pause and then as if only just realising the words he’s spoken and how they could be interpreted he quickly adds, “I mean as friends. I mean can we start afresh?”
Friends? Were you ever friends to begin with? You didn’t know him before you met him on that night out and then slept with him. And since then, you don’t know if you’d really call him a friend.
“I want to get to know you.”
The words scare you more than they should. You should feel flattered, not like you want to run as far away from this conversation as possible.
You don’t talk, just keep walking, now on the third floor, Taehyung behind you, your only escape is the doorway at the end of the hallway hiding the door.
You don’t run, but your pace definitely speeds up. You make it to the door with enough time for it not to be awkward that you didn’t reply, and more importantly, quick enough that Taehyung has no time to add anything else on.
Closing the door behind you, you push your weight against it, pulling yourself together before pushing away and going to the toilet.
You spend far too long washing your hands, hoping Taehyung isn’t stood waiting for you. It’s silly really, you’ve been watching him all night, been wanting to speak with him, and now that’s coming true, you’re running. But the context of the conversation isn’t what you wanted.
You want to get to know Taehyung, but not in the way that you know he means. You don’t want a relationship with him, at least nothing past friendship. Sure, it’s all he said he wanted too, but you’ve heard that before and it wasn’t true then, just like you expect it isn’t now.
Still, you can’t stay and hide in here forever.
As expected, he’s waiting for you when you open the door. He pushes himself up off the wall he was leaning on, giving you a small smile as he does.
“You have nice friends.”
“Yeah, they’re great,” you smile back at him. “Yours are nice too.”
“Yeah,” he elongates the word, and you feel the awkwardness start to draw in.
“Right,” you add, unhelpfully.
You start walking, have to push past him to start back down the hallway. He follows close behind you, his body nearly touching yours.
“I meant what I said earlier, you know. I do want to get to know you.”
You don’t reply, don’t know what to say. He doesn’t seem to take offense though, just continues talking.
“And you know, about the other night, I’ve been thinking about it and –”
“I’ve told you not to worry about it,” you pause and Taehyung bumps into you.
“I’m not. I just want you to know that I can –”
“I’m sure you can,” you interrupt him again.
“I can,” he whispers deeply into your ear causing a shiver to go through you.
You start walking again, but don’t make it far as a hand encompasses your wrist. You stop again.
“Just give me a chance,” he says. “Stop running away from me.”
Again, you don’t reply and again Taehyung doesn’t seem to care. He moves, hand still holding your wrist as he comes to stand in front of you. Your breath hitches as you look up at him.
“Let me show you,” he says, voice deep.
“You’re drunk,” you say smelling the alcohol on his breath as you say the words.
“Not drunk. I’ve not had enough to be drunk,” he corrects, hand still clutching your wrist.
“I saw you taking those shots.”
“Believe it or not, that’s not enough to get me drunk.”
“Still,” you say, unable to finish the sentence as you stare up into his eyes, his face so close to your own.
He reads your unspoken words, huffs out a small breath of air as he shakes his head. Still, he holds onto you, and still, you don’t try to pull away from him.
“Was I really that bad?”
“I never said –”
He cuts you off by tugging you closer to him, your chest pressed up against his now. He leans his head down so that his lips are against your ear.
“I promise I can make you feel good.”
“I didn’t –”
“I can show you,” he cuts you off again and you don’t protest, surprisingly turned on by it.
His lips press up against your ear before his teeth are lightly pulling at the lob. His hand moves from your wrist to your lower back as if in anticipation for you arching up into him. Your front presses up against his and you’re reminded just how solid and well-built the man is.
“Here?” You hate how affected you sound, how desperate for this you sound. You can feel Taehyung’s satisfied smile press against your neck.
Taehyung hums into your skin, his lips moving away from your ear down to your neck, kissing the skin there, nipping lightly but not enough to mark you. Meanwhile his hand moves again. He goes back to your hip before inching down. Painfully slowly he moves inwards and then stops when his fingers are splayed across the inside of your thigh. Close, so very close to where you want him, but not close enough.
“Do you still need help in how to please a woman?” Your words come out breathy, clearly more affected by what Taehyung is doing than your words imply. But the words hit exactly where you intend them to.
A low growl emits out of the man as he pushes you backwards. Your back hits the wall as Taehyung pushes his body against yours. Pinned against the wall you have no escape, not that you want one.
“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” Not a question he expects an answer to. “Shall we see just how much?”
He waits a beat as if to see whether you’ll deny him. But you know exactly what he intends, and you have no intention of stopping him. You want this.
You’re glad you’re wearing a skirt, jeans would have been so much harder to do this in. He couldn’t so easily move his hands upwards, couldn’t just push your pants to the side, couldn’t immediately swipe his fingers through your folds. You definitely wouldn’t be doing this, in the middle of a hallway in the midst of a house party, if you had to pull your jeans around your ankles. You’re not sure who’s gladder you’re wearing a skirt, you or Taehyung.
“Do you enjoy being fingered against a wall where anyone could see you?”
His fingers start to slowly circle your clit. It’s not hard enough, not fast enough, and yet you still arch into him in pure pleasure.
He huffs out a laugh, the breath fanning across your neck where his head still rests.
“You do don’t you.”
You can hear the connotation of the words. Can hear the word he’s not saying. Slut. And though he may not mean it in the way it’s meant, you’re glad he doesn’t say it. It may be something some people enjoy, but in any manner it’s said, you hate it.
“I may be enjoying it, but at this rate I’ll never come before someone finds us,” you enjoy teasing him, enjoy the reactions you get out of him. “The whole point of hooking up in a hallway of a party is it’s quick.”
His fingers stop circling, move backwards towards your entrance and you think you’ve baited him. But he doesn’t dip those long fingers into you, just settles them against your entrance, applies enough pressure to tease you in return.
“It doesn’t feel like it will take you long to come,” he says deeply. “But if that’s what you want.”
With little warning he dips a finger into you. You arch up into him at the same moment your legs buckle. You’re glad for the hand that remains on your hip. Glad that you’re pinned between a literal wall and the wall that is Taehyung’s body. You think you’d be a heap on the floor if not.
“Is this what you want?” His lips are against your ear as his finger dips in and out of you. “Am I making you feel good?”
All rhetorical questions, all questions he knows the answers too. But you still let out a small moan in encouragement.
The noise seems to spur him on. The finger that’s in you multiplies, your once neglected clit gets the attention it deserves. It’s a lot and it happens all at once. The moan that leaves you now is louder, seems to bloom somewhere deep within you, isn’t forced. And Taehyung’s single hand on your hip that was once enough to support you now isn’t enough. You wrap your arms around Taehyung’s neck, seemingly putting all your weight into it, but Taehyung deals with it, dips a bit under the added weight but doesn’t let you fall.
His long fingers seem to reach places deep within you, curl at just the right spot to cause the most pleasure. Your hips grind down into his palm involuntary, seeking a release that you can feel fast approaching.
You aren’t aware of much, just Taehyung’s fingers in you, his heavy breathing on your neck, his body pressed into yours. You’ve forgotten all about the fact you’re stood in a hallway, someone could walk past you right now and you’d be totally oblivious.
You focus on the feeling building up in your core. Your hips grind down into his palm, fingers create a vice like grip on his neck, while your own neck falls backward, head lightly hitting the wall behind you.
“I’m close,” you whisper out and get a hum in response. “I’m so close.”
He carries on at the same pace, doesn’t increase or slow down, which you’re glad for; you’ve had people get too excited in the past and even when they increase their speed it sometimes rips your orgasm away.
You come, hips sputter, whole body convulsing in Taehyung’s hold. His fingers keep moving, helping you through. Small, involuntary moans escape you and Taehyung only removes his fingers when your body stops moving, when no more sounds come out of you, when your breathing levels out. But even as he pulls out of you, he doesn’t stop holding on to you. He stays pressed up into you until you remove your arms from around your neck, and only then does he step away from you.
You straighten out your skirt, fix your pants at the same time you see Taehyung fixing the obvious bulge in his. You look up at him as you run your fingers through your hair, give him a small but genuine smile.
“Better than last time?” He asks.
“You’re still caught up about that?” You huff out a laugh but still give him an answer. “Yes, Tae, it was better than last time.”
His lips pull back revealing a large boxy smile, obviously satisfied with your answer.
“So it’s Tae now?” You see the glint in his eye, realise the smile may be less about his performance review and more about the nickname.
You look away from him, pretend to fix your skirt so you can compose yourself. You hadn’t even consciously realised you’d called him Tae, and you’re not sure why, but something about his reaction causes your insides to heat with embarrassment. You’re not close enough to him for a nickname, shouldn’t have presumed it’d be ok.
“It’s ok, I like it,” he reassures you.
You nod at him, store the information for later, though you’re unsure if there will ever be a time for you to use it.
There’s a noise at the end of the corridor and then two girls come crashing into view. Stumbling towards you they giggle as they bang into nearly every surface. You feel Taehyung step up behind you, creating space for the girls to pass by you. You can hardly meet their eyes as they stumble past, too conscious of what you’ve just done and how if you’d last just a few minutes longer they would have walked in on it.
When you hear a door bang open and then close behind you, the giggles muffled, you step forward and then turn to Taehyung. You’ve created a larger space between the two of you, but Taehyung doesn’t seem to care. And when you open your mouth to speak, Taehyung beats you to it.
“Shall we go down together?”
You can’t really dispute, and when you think about it, there is no expectation it his words. Just downstairs together, nothing more, no further.
You nod at him, watch as another genuine smile blossoms on his face. Still, you don’t talk as you go downstairs, no small talk, no questions about getting each other’s numbers, no requests to do that again. The tension in you lessens with each step you take. It’s not that you don’t like Taehyung, it’s just that you don’t really do anything past what you’ve just done. And it’s nice to have someone who doesn’t put any pressure on it, doesn’t ask for more, doesn’t make it hard to leave. It’s always the worst part, after, but he’s making it ok.
The music is louder now you’re downstairs, the number of bodies thinner than when you were last here; a lot of people already having left.
“My friends are over there,” he leans in close to your ear so that you can hear him.
You look over to where he’s nodded and see a small group of people talking with drinks in the corner. Jin remains, and so do the two girls, everyone else seems to be gone.
“Ok,” you say, twisting to look back at him, waiting to see what he says next.
“I had fun,” he smiles at you, eyes darting between yours. “I’ll see you around?”
You nod, give a small, breathy “yeah”, and then watch as he leaves you to go to his friends.
You should feel hurt that he’s left you, most people would. But you only feel happy. No expectations, nothing like the last time you slept with him. He doesn’t look back at you, doesn’t see you watch him until he’s back with his friends, and then doesn’t see you silently slip out of the party.
Taehyung
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. So maybe that’s why he thinks about you so much after that night. Or maybe it’s just because of the sex.
It’s almost definitely the sex. He’s done it with someone else since you, and it wasn’t the same, wasn’t as good. He came, which is more than you did with him that one time, but this just wasn’t as good. And now he’s made you come with his fingers, he can’t stop thinking about doing it again, this time with other parts of him.
He can’t help but think that it also runs deeper than that. Sure, that first time he didn’t know you, had only met you that night and that yet the sex was still mind blowing. But that seems to have sparked something in him. He wants to know you, actually know you. And sure, he wants to have sex with you again, but if you don’t want to do that with him, then he’s also happy just being your friend. He meant it when he said he wants to get to know you, something that didn’t seem to go down very well with you.
He’s not a stalker, he promises, but he would never admit to the fact that he looks for you wherever he goes on campus. Though he’s not a stalker, it feels like stalker behaviour. He doesn’t see you in the café when he goes, doesn’t see you at any of the parties he attends, doesn’t hear any of his friend’s mention seeing you.
Maybe it’s fate that does it, maybe those strings of red that some people believe in are real and his is tied to you. Or maybe it’s just a coincidence. Whatever it is, he’s happy for it. First, he stumbles upon you in that café, now he sees you in the library.
Much like when he saw you in the café you’re scrunched over your work, oblivious to the world around you. But unlike that time in the café, Taehyung doesn’t hesitate when he sees you.
“Hello again,” he says as he pulls out the chair opposite you and sits down, that textbook he was looking for long forgotten.
You look up at him slowly, but unlike all the other times you don’t look confused or unsure at who it is. There’s recognition in your face even before your eyes meet him. The thought that you knew who it was from his voice alone, and the fact that you didn’t tense at the thought, makes something flutter in Taehyung’s stomach.
“Hey,” you smile at him. “How are you?”
“Oh you know, trying not to drown under the constant pressures of uni while also trying to maintain a healthy and balanced social life. The usual,” he sees something glint in your eye as he leans back into his chair. Comfortable, no longer the bumbling idiot around you. “How about you? How’s Feud or Ford or Fenty or whatever it is you Politicians read?”
“Feud isn’t a person,” your smile grows just like the feeling in his chest. “I’m actually reading about Socialism. I’d go into it, but I get the impression it’s not your thing.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure. I could do with a good nap,” the laugh that sounds out is enough for Taehyung to consider asking Jin all about his crappy jokes, he may not find them funny, but enough people do that he’s willing to give it a go if it will mean he continues to hear that noise from you.
“Brutal,” you say, the word still twinged with laughter. “How have you been outside of uni work though? It feels like it’s been a while.”
“Yeah,” he breathes the word, it’s nice to hear you’ve felt like it’s been a while too. “I’ve been good thanks. Not much has really changed; Jin makes the same jokes, Jimin flirts with the same people, and Yoongi still pretends to hate us all.”
You shake your head at him but the amusement is still clear. “I hear Jimin and Usama have bonded over having a shared lecture.”
“So I hear.”
It’s true, the days when he’s wanted to hear about you, he heard about Usama. He liked the guy, sure, but it wasn’t really the person he was hoping his friends would say they saw that day.
“It’s nice,” you say.
“Yeah,” he breathes the word out again.
Nice? That your friend is friends with his friend? Because that would mean you two are a little more connected, have a little more in common, have a way to see each other a bit more? Or is he reading too much into that one word?
“You know, I’m actually glad I caught you,” he says, deciding to take the leap now he’s got you. “I was wondering, now we’re friends and all,” he pauses a beat, as if waiting for you to correct him, but you don’t so he carries on. “Do you fancy going for coffee together at some point?”
He expects you to stiffen, to turn him down, to look like you want to run away. What he doesn’t expect is for you to smile.
“You know, I’d love that.”
He can’t control his smile. It grows big, his teeth on display.
“Great. How about tonight? Or a study break when you’re free?”
“Ah, I’d love to, but I have work tonight,” you must catch his glance down at your books as you clarify. “I work in a bookstore. I have a shift this evening and need to get this done before I go. But I’d definitely be up for it another day.”
“Oh,” he’s surprised, though he shouldn’t be. He has to remind himself how little he knows about you, but still, he didn’t know you had a job. “That’s cool. I mean, a book shop? Which one?”
You smile at him, the amusement returning to your eyes. “It’s just a small independent one on campus.”
He nods as if he knows what you’re talking about, but he has no idea. The only place he comes for books is the library, and even then, that’s because his professors expect it of him and not because he wants to. He can’t imagine shopping for books for fun.
“Well, maybe I could give you my number so you can let me know when you’re not working or studying?”
You open your mouth to reply, but then stiffen, the amusement and hint of a smile dying with it. He thinks he’s mess up somehow, thinks he’s pushed you too far. He’s about to apologise when someone steps around him to the end of the table and starts talking.
“It’s been a while Y/N,” the man says.
You don’t reply, seem to shrink in size as if you want to go unnoticed by him. The man is turned so that he can’t see Taehyung, but even as you shrink, Taehyung sits up straighter, corrects his posture, tries to make himself look bigger.
“You’ve not messaged me,” he carries on, oblivious to your clear discomfort.
“I don’t have your number,” you mumble, eyes flicking around the room before settling on the book still open in front of you.
“That’s right,” he huffs a laugh. “People like you don’t take numbers, don’t like to go back for a second go. Is that right? Am I not good enough for you?”
Taehyung bristles. Who the fuck does this guy think he is?
“Fuck off Dave,” you mumble, though your words contain some bite.
“What did you say to me, slut?”
He watches as you flinch at the word as if you’ve received a physical hit. But he doesn’t wait to see much more.
“Do you want to stop sexually assaulting this woman?”
The man turns at his words, as if only just realising there’s someone else there. He knew the words would be enough to catch him off guard, and by the look on his face and the way his eyes dance around the room to check who could hear, he is right.
“I’m not sexually assaulting her.”
“Oh, so calling someone a slut and shaming her for how many or little people she sleeps with isn’t sexual assault?”
The mans mouth opens and then closes. Taehyung can almost see the clogs in his head turning as if trying to work out if the statement is true or if there is an argument he can use. Taehyung jumps in before he can think of a response.
“Just because she doesn’t want to sleep with you doesn’t give you the right to judge her. In fact, I think it’s probably for that reason that she doesn’t want to be anywhere near you,” he says.
“Do you want to mind your own business?”
“This is my business.”
“Oh,” the mans eyes flick back to you before going back to Taehyung. “Never thought she would get a boyfriend. But, I guess certain types of people are drawn to each other.”
Taehyung bites his tongue, wills the anger that rages in him to settle down. He doesn’t need to do anything stupid, even though he really wants to.
“I’m not her boyfriend. I’m a friend. But, I guess you would have no idea what that means.”
“Yeah, great come back,” the man laughs, but takes a step away from the table, eyes flicking once again around the room and as if realising he’s losing, while also realising that he probably shouldn’t stay much longer with the attention he’s drawing.
“You know, a tip for next time; maybe don’t insult or belittle women you find attractive. It might actually work in your favour,” Taehyung says.
The man walks away, throwing his middle finger up behind him.
Taehyung really, really wants to run after him. Really wants to punch him in the face and see if that will knock some sense back into him. But he doesn’t, he stays where he’s sat and turns his attention back to you.
“Are you ok?”
“I’m sorry,” you’re still scrunched up, don’t look up and meet his eyes.
“You don’t have to apologise,” he can feel the frown form on his face as he leans in closer to you. He wants to reach across and comfort you somehow, but he doesn’t know how, so he settles for just trying to get closer to you.
“You shouldn’t have had to deal with that,” you shake your head.
“Nor should you,” he replies.
You let out a breath and he waits for you to gather your thoughts.
He hates that that just happened. But he hates the thought that if he wasn’t sat here you would have had to deal with that alone. It’s not that he wants to be your knight, or wants to save the day, it’s just that no one should be treated like that.
The fact that you’re acting like it’s not the first time that’s happened makes him even angrier. Is this why you’ve been pushing him away? He remembers that time in the café, when he’d gone to your table and you’d tensed when you saw him. Was it because you were expecting him to treat you like that?
The anger continues to burn deep in him.
“I’d still be up for that coffee,” your comment throws him, it takes him a second to process it, but you’re looking up at him now, looking so much smaller than before and he realises you’re changing the subject. You don’t want to talk about it, at least not now, not with him, and that’s ok.
“Yeah,” he says, forcing the smile to return to his face. “I’ll give you my number.”
He meets you for a coffee. He meets you for multiple coffees in fact, all on different days. He gets to know you, and he can’t help but like you more because of it.
You open up to him. There’s things that he knows you’re holding back about, topics you close up about, but he’s ok with that, he’ll take anything you give him.
You don’t have sex; it’s never brought up. And again, he’s ok with that.
You meet mainly just the two of you, in the library or for a coffee and he likes it that way. Though you still see each other at parties where all your friends are, he doesn’t get you to himself, doesn’t get to talk to you about all the things he wants. He prefers it when it’s just the two of you.
He knows he’s falling in too deep. He knows you only want to be his friend and he likes you far more than a friend likes a friend. But he doesn’t pull away the way he should, instead he dives in deeper. He knows boundaries, just because he likes you more than you like him doesn’t mean he’ll do anything. He can be friends with you. He can accept that’s it. He’s willing to push his feelings aside so that you’re in his life, in whatever capacity that is.
His friends think he’s dumb. Taehyung knows he’s dumb.
He doesn’t know what it is about you, but he can’t help but stay. It’s not like you’re that extraordinary. Sure, you’re beautiful, but he’s seen prettier people, he’s been with people who are more stunning. You’re funny and happy and have a nice personality, but again, he’s had more in common with others, he’s been with people who can make him laugh just as much as you can.
But there’s something about you. He doesn’t know what it is, probably never will, but he’s drawn to you. He doesn’t think about it too deeply, just goes along with the flow.
Whatever you give him, he’ll take and be happy about it.
He’s drunk. Way too drunk.
Yoongi talked him into having a whiskey before coming (which was an alcohol that never sat well with him), and then Jimin turned up and started pouring shots. It was a recipe for disaster from the start, and one he fell right into.
Things were wavy before he even walked through the door. And though he’s held off from any more alcoholic drinks, he still feels it buzzing in his system.
He starts the night with his friends but loses them pretty early on. He thinks that they were all sat on some sofa’s but one by one they started to peel off and he thought, why the hell not have a look around himself? It felt like a good idea at the time, but now alone, he’s not so sure.
And then he thinks he sees you and it’s like the sun peaking out through the clouds, all bad thoughts and feelings disappearing.
He didn’t know you’d be here. Though you message a lot these days, neither of you had said you were coming to this. He doesn’t really know why he’s surprised; he’s seen you at enough house parties now. But he still makes a mental note (one he surely won’t remember tomorrow) to text you about going to parties in the future. Maybe you could even go to one together and not stumble upon each other like every other time. That would be nice, he thinks.
But that is definitely you. Walking towards him. A massive smile on your face. He at least isn’t drunk enough to not know that.
“You’re drunk,” you beam up at him, clearly pleased by the fact.
“Jimin gave me shots.”
“And here I was thinking shots don’t get you drunk.” You’re making fun of that one house party and that thing he said, he knows, but his brain isn’t working fast enough to come up with a sarcastic reply.
“You haven’t had one of Jimin’s shots.”
He can’t quite hear your giggle, but he can see the way your face lights up.
“Do you need me to get you some water?” You ask.
“No,” his hand is clumsy as he grabs your wrist, stopping you from leaving though you haven’t tried to go anywhere. “Please don’t leave me.”
The smile lessens on your face, still there, but now tinged with worry. Though he can’t see that through his drunken haze.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you reassure him. “Where’s Jimin?”
His hand tightens slightly on your wrist as you look around the room for the man. He must move closer to you because when you look back at him you have to crane your head on your neck and the hand that isn’t restrained by him comes up to his chest to help you balance.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you repeat. “I’m just wondering why you’re all alone and where your friends are.”
“I thought you were my friend?”
You shake your head, stepping away to create a bit of the previous space. He closes it just as quickly as you create it.
“You are my friend Tae,” that nickname you’d started calling him a week ago goes right through him. All his friends call him Tae, but there’s something about the name leaving your lips that affects him unlike anyone else. “But where’s everyone else?
“Urm,” it’s as if the words your saying are only just sinking in. “Yoongi will be sat in the corner I imagine.”
Your hand tugs his and he finds his feet moving to follow you. You weave expertly through the crowds and he follows blindly behind.
You hand feels so small in his and he can’t help but think how nice that is. He’s not sure why it’s nice, he just knows it is. And the fact that you’re so small, and yet you’re carving a clear path through all these people. Power, he thinks, you’re so small but so powerful. He likes that about you too. There’s probably a long list of things he likes about you, maybe one day he’ll sit down and write them all down.
Though you’re taking him around the edge of the room, away from most of the dancers, you’re both still disrupting some of the swaying dancers. It’s not quite like Jin’s dancing, but it’s nice all the same.
He stops. His body becoming a wall you cannot move, meaning you also stop. It’s as if the thought of Jin dancing has sparked a memory in him and what better time than now to act upon that thought?
He looks at you, sees your mouth moving with words that he didn’t realise you were saying. He doesn’t much care, doesn’t think how rude it is to cut you off, just does it.
“Dance with me.”
You stop talking, look surprised by the request. Your eyes dart around the room, unsure, before you reply.
“I think maybe we should just try and find –”
“You said you wanted to see me dance,” he explains. “But you never did. Dance with me?”
He can see you trying to remember when you said that. You probably won’t remember; it wasn’t really that significant. But he remembers. He remembers most, if not all, things about you.
“Come and dance,” a whiney tone has slipped into his voice, and he doesn’t feel embarrassed as he lightly tugs on your hand to encourage you towards him. Encourage, not force. He could force you if he really wanted, could overpower you easily, but he would never do that.
You glance around the room again and when you look back at him he can see the smile however hard you are trying to hide it.
“Ok.”
It’s his turn to start leading the way. It’s not far, but he does it a lot less graciously than you did. Sways a bit on his unstable feet, bumps into some disproving people, but he makes it to the destination.
He turns, keeping his hand in yours, before smiling down at you. He’s wearing the largest smile, and though your face doesn’t hold one, he can still feel the happiness rolling off you in waves.
He starts off freely. Waving your combined hands in the air, wiggling his hips to the beat, jumping up and down occasionally. He spins you round, sees the delight written all over your face, so does it a few more times.
Maybe it’s the alcohol, the loss of inhibitions. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s getting more tired. Maybe he just wants to feel you close to him. Or maybe it’s a bit of all of those combined. Whatever it is, as the songs dissolve one into another, he finds himself drifting closer to you.
You don’t stop him. You let him take a step closer, and then another. You let him place his hands on your hips. You let him lean into you. And in return he can feel you place your hands on his back, stroking soft patterns there before moving upwards to encompass his neck. He can feel you place your head on his chest.
He breathes you in. Focuses purely on you and not the other bodies pressing in around him. He’s drunk, but not so much that he won’t remember this, and with everything he has, he tries to scar it into his memory.
Friends. That’s what you are. That’s what you told him he will always be.
But this doesn’t feel like just friends. No matter how close he is to Jimin, he would never drag him out here and dance with him like this. Jimin would never hold him like you’re holding him. Nothing against Jimin, but surely it’s not just him that thinks that, surely you can see that there is something more than friendship between the two of you?
You’ve pushed him and he’s agreed to it. He knows you’ve placed him firmly in the friendzone, and though he doesn’t exactly know why, he’s accepted it. But stood here now, dancing with you like this; he’s not sure if he can accept it anymore.
“Why won’t you sleep with me?”
He knows he’s fucked it before you stiffen in his arms. You don’t push away from him at least, but you’ve stopped moving, feel more like a statue than a human now.
“I just mean, you slept with me once, you’ve slept with other people. Why won’t you sleep with me now?”
He’s trying to make this better, but the words are coming out all wrong and he’s fucking it up even more.
You do push away from him now. He lets you step out of his embrace, feels his arms flop lifelessly down to his side as he sees the hurt in your eyes. He did that, he caused that.
“I can sleep with as many people as I want,” you say defensively. He can almost see the walls you’d let fall start to build back up and he jumps to try and save himself before they’re fully closed to him.
“I know that. I just meant -”
“That I’m a slut?” You say the word with such venom that even Taehyung recoils.
“No. I would never,” he shakes his head, suddenly feeling completely sober. “You know I don’t think that.”
You don’t look sure. In fact you can hardly meet his eye contact. Why did he have to open his stupid mouth in the first place? Why didn’t he just enjoy the moment and not get ahead of himself? Why didn’t he just accept you were friends and nothing more?
“The words came out all wrong. That’s not what I meant at all,” he tries again. “Please, Y/N, I –”
“Let’s just find Yoongi,” you cut him off, your tone flat and void of emotion.
You twist before he can agree or disagree. This time when you weave through the crowds you don’t hold his hand. He has to do a jog to keep up with you, the path you form almost closing behind you.
He manages to keep up with you, manages to be there when you find Yoongi and just about hears the scolding he gets from you about leaving his friends alone and drunk. And then you’re gone and this time he doesn’t follow you even though he really, really wants to.
“Jesus, she was in a bad mood,” Yoongi grumbles behind him.
Taehyung can only look at the spot you disappeared from, thinking how badly he’s fucked everything up. He didn’t even get a chance to apologise.
He wakes with a splitting headache and a broken heart.
He slept badly, he never sleeps well with alcohol in his system, but the images of your face, hurt in your eyes, was enough to keep him up all night. He’s messaged you, several times, but when he checks his phone there are no replies. Still, he sends a new message, just in case.
He doesn’t expect a reply, so he’s shocked when he gets one that afternoon. Though it doesn’t make him feel any better. It’s as cold and distant as you were at the end of the night. It’s void of emotion, void of you. Only a few simple words, each of them enough to tell him that you haven’t forgotten, haven’t forgiven and possibly never will.
He doesn’t blame you. He was drunk, sure, but that wasn’t enough to excuse his poor choice of words. If you never forgive him, he wouldn’t blame you.
It doesn’t stop him from trying though. Even if you don’t forgive him, he is determined to properly apologise, to make sure that you know that he didn’t mean what he said, or at least what his words had implied.
And though you respond, they are less frequent than his messages, still just as short and lacking any emotion. You’re replying, but you may as well not be.
He wants to meet you, he’s asked as much in a text, one which had conveniently gone unanswered. He thinks if he can just see you in person he can better articulate what he wants to say. If he sees you in person and says the apology he wants and you still don’t want to see him, then he will walk away. Not happily, but he’ll do it all the same.
As it has always been with you, it’s harder to see you than he’d like. He has occasionally bumped into you on campus in the past, but those times were few and far between. And just like when he was willing it to happen before and it didn’t, it now also doesn’t happen.
He once again looks for you everywhere he goes. Searches the library, waits in the café, he even asks Usama if he knows where you’ll be, but all of it brings no success (Usama having some very choice words for Taehyung, most he agrees with).
He doesn’t know what brings about the memory; nearly a week has passed since the incident, daily texts have been sent and most have received no response and he has yet to see you anywhere on campus, and then something pings in his brain. A distant memory of something you once told him. It never came up again so he can see why he didn’t remember sooner, and it’s still a long shot, but it’s a shot nonetheless.
He doesn’t know where the bookshop is, but he remembers you saying that its an independent one on campus and there aren’t many of those. He rushes to the nearest one, a small shop he has never been in. Hope blooms in him as the bell tingles overhead. If he can just see you, if he can just apologise. He doesn’t want anything more than your friendship back in his life.
The shop is as small as it looks, and even as he steps into the space he can tell you’re not working. A man not much older than him stands behind the counter and in a place this small, one member of staff is surely all it needs. Still, he decides to check behind the few bookshelves. Maybe you’re there restocking, or maybe it’s not your day to work, maybe he’ll ask the man about you on the way out, he could come back then.
But there you are. Hands trailing the spines of the books, trying to work out where to place the book you hold in your hand no doubt.
He stops as if mesmerised by the sight of you. You haven’t noticed him, and he takes the moment to take you in. He knows your whole body will transform as soon as you see him and he wants to take these few moments in before that happens.
As he watches you though, doubt starts to tingle in his brain. What is he doing? You clearly don’t want to see him, he’d asked you enough times and you hadn’t once agreed. So what right did he think he had coming here and forcing you? He’s no better than the man that assaulted you in the library.
The thought makes him stutter, he physically recoils a step and you must catch the movement out of the corner of your eye as then your twisting to look at him. He can’t duck out of sight quick enough, you’ve seen him and if he runs now it will only make this worse. Still, it hurts to see the look of shock and then displeasure transform your face before you manage to school it into a neutral look.
“Hey,” he says, giving a small, lame wave to further add to his embarrassment.
“Taehyung. What are you doing here?”
“I – uh,” he glances around the shop. He’s wanted to see you, wanted to explain, but now he has you his mind is suddenly blank. “I want to apologise.”
“You’ve already done that,” you turn away from him, looking back at the shelf and picking up where you left off.
He swallows, takes a small breath and then takes a small step closer to you. He can do this. He just needs to say his peace and then leave.
“But I wanted to say it in person.”
“You don’t have to do that,” you say.
“I want to.”
“I’ve already read it, why do I -”
“Y/N. Please,” he pauses, gives you enough time to tell him no again, but when you don’t say anything he assumes that’s his sign that you’re giving him a chance. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said the other night. I was drunk, and I know that is no excuse, but it meant I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” you say, still not looking at him.
“No,” he replies firmly. “That’s no true. At least not these words. What I mean is, they came out all wrong, I didn’t mean for them to sound the way they did. I would never think that about you.”
“That I’m a slut?” He can see your jaw moving as you grind your teeth.
“I don’t think you’re a slut. I’ve never thought you’re a slut,” he says.
He watches as you close your eyes, and though he’s looking at your side, he can see the emotions start to crack through you. He hates that he’s caused this. He hates that he’s made you feel this worthless. You’re normally stood so tall and proud and confident, and though you’d only shown him snippets of yourself over the time he called you a friend, he knew that the confidence you showed the world had small but major holes. He saw it in the library when that man called you a slut and you seemed to fold in on yourself. And now he’s seeing it again, and he hates himself so much for it.
He takes another small step closer to you.
“I like you Y/N. As a friend and probably a lot more than that and that’s why I said what I did. Drunk words are sober thoughts, but mine came out all wrong. I know how they sounded but believe me when I say I didn’t mean them,” he hopes he’s making sense, hopes you understand what he’s saying and that even if you don’t forgive him, you’ll be able to repair the damage he’s caused you in the knowledge that he didn’t mean it.
You open your eyes, still look at the shelf in front of you as you finally find the slot for the book in your hand. He watches as you gently slide it in, but even when your hands are empty you don’t look at him.
He dips under an unseen weight. He knew this would happen, didn’t expect you to forgive him or talk to him or take him back in. But still, the reality of it is harder than he thought it would be.
“I don’t want anything from you. I’m just here to say sorry,” he says, his voice a lot quieter now. “I hope you can at least accept and know that, even if you don’t want to see me again.”
He waits another beat, the hope slowly dying inside him.
He came and did what he wanted. He’s achieved everything he wanted and though the result may not be what he’d hoped and prayed for, he needs to respect your decision.
The two steps he takes backwards almost shatter him, the fact you still don’t look at him is enough to crack his already broken heart. He’s fucked this up, he’s destroyed this, he has no one but himself to blame.
He swallows down all the emotions that rise within him. Can feel everything coming to the surface, but pushes it down long enough to get out of here.
“Goodbye Y/N,” his voice comes out hoarse even though he’s cleared his throat, and then he spins away from you and leaves the shop without looking back.
Y/N
You remember the door from all those months ago. It’s exactly how you remember it, though when you last entered it you weren’t exactly staring at it as you are now, more focused on the man opening it and what you were about to do with him. It’s not a very complicated design though, easy to remember. But the clean white paint is still the same and the silver numbers and the silver doorhandle with its lock. It seems that though your whole world has been flipped and changed so drastically, not everything else has. You don’t know if you draw comfort in that or not.
It’s been a few days since Taehyung came to the book shop. You haven’t seen or heard from him since, not that you had tried to get in contact, but neither had he. It seems he took the goodbye he gave you quite literally. You respect it, he’s done what he thought was best, given you the space you need, but the hole he used to fill in you has started to feel bigger without any news from him.
You thought it was best to let him go. And though he had apologised, and though you had believed him and knew he didn’t mean what he’d implied to you, you also couldn’t help but think that you couldn’t give him what he wanted and maybe it was best to therefore give him nothing at all.
You’ve known from the start he wanted more from you than you could give, it’s why you’ve never wanted to lead him on.
You’ve given yourself time to think about it, space away from Taehyung to process your thoughts. You spoke to Usama and Helena about it, received a scolding from Usama. Apparently, you are dumb and blind. You couldn’t help but agree with him. But still, you didn’t contact Taehyung. Perhaps you aren’t as brave as you lead people to believe, or perhaps you’re worried that, although it’s only been a few days, Taehyung has written you off like most people do when they don’t get what they want from you. Or maybe you just struggle to give yourself to people, prefer one night stands because you know that’s where it’ll end and that there’ll be no heartache or disappointment after.
You stare at the door some more. Notice the small bumps in the seemingly perfect door.
You should knock. You should just get this over and done with. What is it everyone says? Better to rip the plaster off. But you’ve stood here long enough for the threads of doubt to weave their way into your brain. He’s probably not even in. If that’s true then there’s no harm in knocking. But what if someone else is there?
You stop that train of thought before it can go any further. It’s been a few days since Taehyung’s grand speech. If what he said is true, no one will be here. And if someone is, well, then you’ll at least know the truth.
You raise you fist, bring it down lightly on the door, barely a noise sounding out. You bring it down harder the second time, a louder, more definite knock piercing the air.
You wait, stare at the same spot on the door. You don’t hear the footsteps on the other side, just see the door start to swing open.
“Jimin, I’ve already told I don’t need -” he cuts himself off as his eyes land on you, widening as they do. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Yep. It’s me,” you say.
His eyes glance behind you as if expecting someone else to be with you, but you know you stand alone in the hallway. Suddenly you feel less sure. Though, you didn’t feel that sure to begin with.
“Sorry if you were expecting Jimin. I can go if that’s -”
“No,” he rushes, hands coming up in front of him. “You’re perfect. I mean, you’re who I want to see. That is. Do you want to come in?”
You try not to smile. This is your favourite Taehyung. Sure you enjoy the cocky, slightly full of himself guy. But in your eyes, nothing will beat when he gets flustered.
He waits, steps back creating space for you to pass if you want to. He looks like he’s not expecting you to come in and your heart stutters at the fact that even though you’ve voluntarily turned up at his door, he would think that. Usama was right, you’re both idiots.
You step past him, slip your shoes off as he closes the door behind you. You haven’t been in here since the night you slept with him, he never invited you over when you hung out at all those coffee shops, and you never asked to come back. In the daylight it feels different, or maybe it’s because you know Tae now, can see the bits of art that are surely his, can see the organised chaos of his room that reflects his mad mind, can smell him in the air.
“Is everything alright?” He asks from behind you.
“Yeah,” you look over your shoulder to give him a small, closed-lipped smile. “Can we sit somewhere?”
He motions to the sofa and you go over and take a seat. You don’t talk right away, and you can tell it’s probably killing him, but you want to make sure you get this right.
“I’ve missed you,” you say, and watch as his eyes widen in surprise, just like they did when he saw you on his doorstep moments ago. “What you said really hurt me, I won’t lie, but I know you didn’t mean it. It might not have been the right way to go about it, I should probably have told you what was going through my head at the time, but I needed the space to figure it all out.”
He nods his head but doesn’t interrupt.
“I don’t think I realised how much you’ve come into my life until you left. And I miss you.”
“You really missed me?” His face scrunches. He doesn’t believe you.
“Yeah. Is that really so hard to believe?”
“Well, yeah. You did just completely ghost me,” you frown back at him, your face now a mirror of his. “I’m not saying I didn’t deserve it, or that you shouldn’t have done it, but, I wouldn’t have guessed you missed me.”
“Oh,” it makes sense, but you aren’t about to apologise for your actions.
“I’m glad you do though,” he says softly.
“Ok,” you say, words don’t seem to be your forte at the moment.
“Are we friends again now then?”
“If you still want me.”
He shakes his head, his eyes dancing away from you, a smile forming on his lips. “I’ve always wanted you.”
Your breath hitches. Your body starts to heat. As a friend, he’s always wanted you as a friend. But even you know he means more than that. Wasn’t that the whole reason you pushed him away? Wasn’t that what he admitted in the bookshop to you? Isn’t that the whole reason you’re here?
“Then I’m sorry,” you say.
He shakes his head again, this time a small laugh leaves his lips. “You’re not the one that needs to be apologising.”
“You just accused me of ghosting you.”
“I –” he pauses, rethinks his words. “I’m still not very good with my words,” another pause, a flash of his teeth in what you think might be his attempt to smile. He looks nervous. “It should be me apologising.”
“Because of what you said to me?”
“Because of what I said,” he says. “I’ll never forgive myself.”
“But I’ve forgiven you,” you cock your head slightly at him.
“Have you?”
“Isn’t that the reason I’m here?”
He doesn’t answer you. Does he really not believe you? Does his self-hatred for what he did really run so deep? You knew he liked you, but you obviously didn’t realise quite how much.
“You know, there were some other things I thought about when we weren’t talking,” you take the plunge, you have a good feeling that it’s not going to go badly, but it’s still a massive leap to tell someone how you feel. You can almost see Taehyung holding his breath. “I really did miss you. Far more then I thought I would. And I don’t know.”
You can see his foot fidgeting out of the corner of your eye, his toes bobbing up and down, even as a small smile starts to spread across his face.
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t know,” you say a bit sharper, though there’s no bite. “I guess I thought about what you said to me. You said you meant it, that you liked me more than just a friend.”
“I did.”
You look at each other, the tension in the room growing in the silence. You should just say it, but the words seem impossibly hard to say.
But he’s said it. He’s put his heart on the line, so maybe you should risk it too.
“And I guess I kind of want to kiss you.”
“Kind of want to?”
You can see the nerves are still there, but a cockiness has creeped in. Part of you wants to wipe the smile off his face.
“I’m becoming less inclined to by the second.”
His smile only widens, your statement seemingly not discouraging him at all. In fact, you seem to only be giving him more reason to be cocky. The fact irritates you more then it should. Where was that shy flustered Tae when you needed him?
“You just have to ask me,” he smiles at you, foot no longer bobbing. “All you’ve ever had to do is just to say the word.”
“A single word? Because I’m thinking of multiple right now. In fact, it’s more a sentence then a single word.”
He laughs and despite yourself you smile back at him.
“Can I kiss you?” He asks, already starting to lean in.
You glance down at his lips, lick your own in anticipation.
“I thought you wanted me to say it,” you say, starting to move towards him, your voice dipping in volume now you’re getting so close to him.
“You were taking too long.”
You wait, but his lips don’t touch yours. You look back up into his eyes and see him looking at you as if waiting.
“What?” You whisper out.
“I’m going to need to hear you say it,” he says just as lowly.
You fight the need to roll your eyes. Bloody men.
“Yes, Tae, you can –”
You’re cut off as his lips finally meet yours.
It feels like it’s been a while since you last kissed him, in fact, you can’t remember when you last kissed him. He didn’t kiss you in that hallway, at least not on the lips, so it must have been that first time you slept together. But even that you don’t remember that well. You didn’t know him then, he was just another guy.
But now, now he’s Taehyung, the guy you’ve grown to know and like. It’s not like you’ve only ever slept with people once, as much as people probably think that’s true, you have slept with the same person multiple times. But this, this feels so much more intense than any other time.
His lips against yours, moving, moulding, consuming. But it’s the feeling that’s so different. You want this, want him, want to get closer to him, want everything he will give you. You’ve wanted to sleep with people before, sure, but this feels so different.
You edge closer to Taehyung, try to twist your body to straddle him while also keeping your lips attached to his, but you knock your knee on something as you lift it up.
“Ow,” you laugh as you pull away from him, clutching you knee in your hands.
“Oh god,” he laughs, his hand reaching out to help you. “Are you ok?”
“Yeah,” you laugh, hand rubbing your knee. “I’m fine.”
The smile that had dropped off Taehyung’s face comes back, his hands finding your waist.
“Come here,” he says before gently moving you so that you straddle him.
Your chests now touching, faces back to being inches away, you wrap your arms around his neck and smile as you watch his eyes flick around your face as if drinking you in.
“Better?” The word is low and deep and breathy, and it gives away how affected he is by all of this.
You bite the smile back, but it becomes so hard.
You don’t say anything as you lean back into him and reattach your lips. You flick your tongue along the seam of his lips and grin as he opens up for you. Your fingers toy with the strands of hair at the nape of his neck, enjoy feeling how soft it is while your tongue dances with his.
You’d be content to do this for hours, wonder why you thought this would be a bad thing. But when you shift to get into a comfier position Taehyung’s hand come to your waist stopping you and his lips pull away from you. His eyes are closed, breath heavy as he flops his head backwards on the sofa. You frown, reach a hand up to gently brush the hair on his forehead to the side.
“Please, don’t do that,” he says and your hand instantly stops.
You frown as you shift on his lap again, trying to get a better look at his face so you can work out what’s wrong. His grip on your hips tightens, stopping your movements once again, and you start to realise what he’s going on about.
“That. Stop doing that,” he says.
Your frown disappears, in it’s place a cheeky smile appears. Taehyung doesn’t see it, his eyes still closed, his breath still heavy. Your fingers start to move again, brushing his hair off his forehead and then you lean in, move so your lips are close to his ear.
“What? This?” You say the same moment your hips grind down into him.
A groan sounds out from him, part frustration, part pleasure. Though his hands tighten on your hips they don’t stop your movements. He allows you to continue to move your hips against his. You can feel his hardness there, swivel your hips enough so that he’s hitting you in just the right spot.
“I don’t think I’m going to last long,” he admits, and it’s like the words spur you on.
Your hips increase in speed, become harder as they grind down into him. Your lips rest against his neck as your head turns into him. Your hands find purchase on his wide, solid shoulders. You’re just as affect by this as him, probably not as close to your release as he’s implying he is, but enjoying it nonetheless.
Just as you’re starting to get into a good rhythm though you’re stopped. The hands that once rested on your hips become firmer. He reveals his strength, shows that before he wasn’t really putting much into it, because now he easily overpowers you, stops your movements with seemingly little effort.
“I don’t think I’m going to last long,” he repeats. “And I want to make you feel good too.”
“I do feel good,” you say, trying to move your hips again, but his hands stay firm, stopping you.
“Let’s go to the bedroom.”
He doesn’t wait for your response, moves his hands so they can sit under your hips and then easily stands. You squeal as he stands with you in his arms, you hadn’t expected that, but you can’t deny that you find it incredibly hot that he can so easily lift your weight.
You cling to him as he walks the short distance to his room. At no point do you feel like he’s going to drop you, but still, you can never be too safe.
He stops just before the bed, eyes flicking between yours.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
You smile, large and genuine. “Yeah,” you say. “I’m sure.”
He nods, swallows, but still doesn’t put you down. “I just want to say before we do this,” you frown as he starts to ramble. “I don’t think I’m going to last very long.”
You laugh, not at him, but you can’t help the small noise escaping you; was he really going to keep saying that? You thought he was going to say he was worried or maybe make some more references to the fact you have done this before and no matter what you’ve said he doesn’t think it went well.
“We haven’t even started yet,” you smile at him and then, not being able to help yourself, you lean forward and peck his lips.
“That’s the point. We’ve not even started and I already feel like I’m going to bust a nut.”
“Bust a nut,” you giggle. “Gross.”
He nuzzles his head into your neck and when he talks his words tickle your skin. “You know what I mean. You affect me.”
You hum. Your hand scratches the back of his head, taking in this soft moment so soon after such a heated one too.
“I want to see,” you wiggle in his arms, but his hands tighten in response, not letting you down. “Tae,” you whine. “I’ll be good.”
“That’s the problem,” he continues to say the words into your neck.
“Come on. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he says and as if to prove his point he lifts his head up, gives you a small smile, that does nothing to reassure you and then kisses you.
You wiggle in his arms and this time he lets you down. You look up at him and see the worry and nerves in his face. Did they ever leave from earlier or have you just chosen to ignore them?
“What’s up?”
“I – nothing,” he shakes his head.
“It’s something. You can tell me,” you wait and when it becomes clear he’s not going to speak you carry on. “Do you not what to do this? Because that’s fine, we can –”
“No, it’s not that,” Taehyung rushes to cut you off. “In fact, I think it’s the complete opposite.”
You frown at him, everything not quite adding up.
“I think I want this too much,” he clarifies. “I just – are you sure you want this?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. I was the one who asked you to kiss me.”
“You said kind of. You kind of wanted to kiss me.”
You sigh, roll your eyes. “Well now I really want to kiss you. Now I really want to do more than just kiss you.”
You step closer to him, press your body against and crane your neck to look at him. You can see the doubt still lingering in his eyes as he stares down at you.
“Last time,” he whispers the words as if it’s a secret and you can tell it’s because he feels ashamed or doubtful of whatever he’s about to say and your heart constricts because of it. “I didn’t make you come last time and I just don’t want that to happen again.”
“Last time? Last time you fingered me in the hallway of a party and I came all over your hand. What are you on about?”
He sighs, eyes lift to the ceiling as if exasperated, but you can see the smile he’s fighting, see his jaw working so as not to look happy by your words.
“I’m sure it will be good Tae. It wasn’t bad that one time, I’ve told you enough times I enjoyed it and I don’t need to orgasm to feel good,” you lean up into him, stretch onto your tiptoes so you can get your face closer to his, wrap your arms around his back. “I can give you some pointers along the way if it will help.”
You’re goading him, poking him into submission. But the words ring no less true, you can see it, you just need to try and get Tae to see it.
“Now,” you smile when he finally looks back down at you, your faces now so close your noses are only a hairs breath away from each other. “Where are your condoms?”
He laughs, deep and his chest rumbles against yours because of it.
“They’re in reach,” he says with a smile. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
You smile at him. “I like your style Taehyung.”
He groans, rolls his eyes, but this time doesn’t try to hold his smile back. You grab his hand and pull him to the side of the bed, push him gently backwards and he goes with it, sits down on the edge of the bed. He looks up at you, eyes wide with wonder as you pull your top over your head. He doesn’t say anything as he follows suit, top discarded next to yours as you pull your jeans down.
You get onto the bed next to him, and he takes the hint. He moves backwards while awkwardly trying to his jeans and pants off. You laugh as you watch but don’t offer to help; the sight is too amusing.
But when he’s fully out, fully naked, fully on display, the laugh dies.
He’s as hot as you remember, probably hotter than you remember, but that doesn’t seem possible because he was incredibly hot last time. But that’s Taehyung sat there. The same Taehyung who stood up for you in the library, who bought you teas, who walked you to lectures, who texted you late at night just to say hi. Sat here now, you wonder how you could have ever pushed him away.
He sits staring at you, you wonder if similar thoughts are going through his mind.
“Aren’t you going to make yourself useful?” You say, moving onto your knees so you can get rid of your pants. He raises his eyebrows in question. “I thought you said the condoms were in reach?”
He catches on the same moment you unclasp your bra, his eyes going to your chest as you throw it in the same direction as your pants.
“And I thought you said you wanted to see how affected I am?” His lips twitch in amusement as you scowl at him.
“And I thought you said you weren’t going to last long,” you throw back. “I can suck you off if you want, but if you’re really not going to last then I’d rather –”
“Yep, ok, I get it,” he cuts you off.
You laugh as he leans across the bed to his bedside table. You crawl up the bed and watch as he rips open the foil packet and then slides the condom down his hard length. He chucks the empty wrapper in the general direction of the table, his eyes back on you. The tension is back in the air, getting thicker the longer you wait.
You lift your leg over his, straddling him, this time with no crashes of your knees. His hands encompass your hips as you settle into place.
“Hey,” you whisper, eyes searching his.
“Hi.”
You lean in, rest your hands on his shoulders as you attach your lips to his. You don’t rush into anything, just kiss, tongues toying with each other.
It’s you that takes it to the next step. Your hand reaches down between the two of you, wrap hand around his length. He pulls away from your lips with a slight hiss. You keep your grip on him, pump your hand up and down and watch as his face contorts with pleasure.
You don’t wait, just raise your hips and lower yourself enough to run the head of his cock through your holds. A moan escapes Tae as you huff out a breath. Fuck, he feels good.
He lets you do what you want, just sits there breathing deeply as you use him. When you finally swirl his tip around your entrance though the hands on your hips tighten their grip, not enough to stop you, but enough to know how affected he is. You keep moving though, brace yourself as you start to sink down on him.
You take him until he’s fully in you, swivel your hips in a small tight circle to get used to the feeling. As you go to rise though the hands tighten, this time enough to stop you.
“I just need a second,” he says, breathy but uncaring. He really wasn’t joking when he said he wasn’t going to last long.
You smile, your heart swelling as you lean in to kiss him. Your silent way to say it’s ok, in fact it’s more than ok. There is more than enough time, there is no rush.
You kiss, it getting deeper the more Taehyung gets used to the feeling of being inside you. But still you don’t move, wait until he’s composed himself enough.
“Fuck,” he says, finally pulling his lips away from you, lessening his grip on your hips. “I swear you feel better than last time.”
“I think I probably feel the same,” you laugh.
“Trust me, you feel better.”
You smile, lean in to kiss him again. You think he’s probably right though, all you’ve done is sat on him and you think this might feel better then anything before. Maybe its all the feelings currently swelling inside you.
He squeezes your hips as your lips stay together, a silent way for him to let you know that you can start moving. So you do just that. Raise your hips up off him just enough to sink back down onto him. You clutch onto his shoulders as you set a pace, don’t care as your nails start to dig into his skin.
You continue to kiss, but it becomes more awkward as both of your breathing become small bursts of air. You end up just resting your forehead against his as you continue your thrusts.
“I’m close,” his words come as no surprise, he’d been saying as much for a while now.
“Just a bit longer,” you reply.
He shakes his head, can’t even speak he’s concentrating so hard on not coming in you. He’s trying to hold off his orgasm so that you might come first.
One of your hands goes down your side so that it’s over his, grasp it and moves it in between your bodies.
“I told you,” you can hardly get the words out. “You need to get more creative with your fingers.”
He doesn’t understand straight away, but he cottons on soon enough. His fingers go you your clit, and when they draw harsh, tight circles there, your hips sputter. You curse as you arch into him. Clutching his shoulders again you restart the same pace as before.
You slam down into him, his moans becoming freer now. You know he’s going to come any second but you’re too focused on your own release to care. You’re distantly aware of the curse that leave his lips and then you feel him come in you.
His moan is guttural, his hips involuntarily lifting off the bed as his body convulses.
You keep going, replace his fingers on your clit. You don’t last much longer and when you come you fall into Tae. You roll your hips a few times to help yourself come down and can already feel Tae becoming soft inside you.
Unlike last time, now you’re in control, you don’t rush to get Tae out of you. Still leaning into him, you run your fingers along his shoulders until they reach the back of his neck, run them through the slightly damp hair you find there.
“That was good,” you’re the first to speak, your voice surprisingly level.
You lift yourself up off him, his hands still holding onto your hips as you swing yourself over him so you can sit next to him.
“It was good last time; it was amazing this time.”
You laugh, lean over to plant a kiss on his cheek, before pulling away again. He looks over at you. He still looks completely fucked, his pupils blown out in pleasure.
“It was amazing,” you agree with him.
You watch his eyes search yours as if looking for a lie, but he doesn’t look as full of doubt as earlier. Your words had affected him more than you thought, wormed seeds of doubt deeper than you realised. It would take time, but you were willing to help convince him you enjoy being with him.
“Will you stay?”
You reach a hand up, sweep some damp strands of hair off his forehead and watch his eyes close as you do.
“I’d love to.”
A small smile lights up his face from the words. Yeah, you’ll be ok, you think.
A/N: My late contribution to Tae’s birthday. This is what came from the requests about V’s growl + him biting/marking your thighs.
It was the evening after your planned date night that Taehyung appeared at your door.
"I'm so sorry," were the first words out of his mouth as the door swung open.
"Uh-huh," you said crossing your arms in front of your chest, very annoyed at your boyfriend for missing your date.
"Work took longer than I thought, and time got away from me and it slipped my mind."
"So, you forgot about me?" you clarified.
"I'll make it up to you," he promised instead of answering you directly.
"Oh yeah? How?" you challenged.
Tae swiftly closed the gap between the two of you, crashing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, both hands entwining themselves in your hair. Your anger and frustration started to melt away and your arms began to uncross themselves.
All too soon he was pulling away.
"In the bedroom?" he said in answer to your question.
"Good idea," you nodded, causing him to grab your hand and lead you there.
Clothes were shed quickly, until you were both naked and Tae instructed you to lay on the bed.
"This had better be amazing sex," you said, wanting to remind him that while you were eager to participate, you were still upset with him.
"Don't worry, I know you, you'll feel amazing," he smirked at you as he climbed on to the bed.
Starting at your ankle, Tae began kissing his way up your leg. Propping yourself up on your elbows you watched as he crawled further up the bed and your body. Once he reached the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, he started nipping at you before stopping to suck a hickey onto you. You inhaled sharply at the sudden change in sensation, opting to lay back against the bed again and focus on the way your boyfriend was making you feel.
As he pulled away again, he let out a growl. You whined and closed your legs trapping his head momentarily.
"Not fair, you know what that sound does to me," you complained.
"That's the point," he retorted, lightly pinching your thigh causing you to relax your legs again. "I told you I was going to make you feel good and I meant it."
Sliding his arms under your legs he gripped your hips and attached his lips to your core. You let out a breathy moan, as his tongue worked against you. He slowly increased the pressure and your hands gripped on to the sheets to ground you to something. From his current position, he growled again, the vibrations continuing through you in waves of pleasure.
Taehyung continued his actions until you hit and overcame your high, only then did he look up at you.
"Am I forgiven yet?"
"Oh no," you breathed out, despite the smile on your face. "It's going to take more than that."
You gestured towards the drawer beside the bed that he knew you kept condoms in, and he wasted no time in pulling one out and preparing himself. Before you knew it he was hovering over you.
"You know I love you, right?" he said. "I would never ignore you or skip out on you on purpose."
With one hand on the back of his neck, you pulled him into a kiss.
"I love you too," you whispered. "But whether you meant to or not you upset me, so you need to finish making up to me."
Tae chuckled at your words. "Of course," he replied, proceeding to line himself up at your entrance and slowly push his way in.
After the eagerness and passion the evening started with, this was a change of pace. His movements were slow and sensual, wanting to show you, instead of tell you, just how much he loved and cared for you. Kisses were frequent and full of meaning; your hands roamed from his hair, down his back and back up again.
As your hips started bucking up into Tae's, he shifted his weight, resting on one forearm, snaking the other hand between you both. As your pleasure intensified, and your breath quickened, his thrust became stronger, chasing his own high as he pushed you towards yours. Once again you pressed your lips to his as you came together.
"I love you," you muttered against his lips.
"I love you, too," he smiled down at you. "Shall I make you dinner? Run you a bath? Vacuum and dust everywhere?"
You couldn't help but giggle. "Cuddle first, then you can cook for me."
He then pulled out of you, disposing of the condom before returning to bed for the requested cuddles.
pairing: taehyung x reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut (NSFW, 18+)
summary: you’re used to being in love with taehyung. you’ve had a lot of time to get good at it, after all—by this point you’re the world’s expert at keeping your less-than-platonic feelings hidden from him, what with the amount of practice you’ve had.
but then he signs up for a massage therapy course, because apparently you can never catch a break.
or: the one where taehyung gives you a full body massage and then some.
warnings: sexually explicit content, massage with a happy ending (literally 🤧), cursing, edible massage oil/lube, fingering (f), unprotected sex (be safe when you have sex please), multiple orgasms (f), oral sex (m), cum swallowing, pet names, body worship?, brief mention of shower sex
a/n: I swear this was meant to be pwp. this was literally meant to just be pwp with some massage shenanigans. and then I blinked and it had become a soft 13k fic which honestly… kicked my ass quite a bit. but I hope you enjoy it!! thank you as always to @hobi-gif for beta reading this and encouraging me and putting up with me changing this multiple times, what would I do without your support miss hope?
--
Taehyung goes through a lot of different phases.
He just finds so many things interesting. Photography, art, art history, music, fashion, thrift shopping; heck, there was even the time he got weirdly into making tea and became some sort of connoisseur, going through the whole rigmarole of buying the loose leaves and weighing them out, checking the temperature of the water, brewing for a precisely measured amount of time.
You still remember the look on his face when you said it all tasted like hot leaf water to you.
Because, of course, as one of Taehyung’s best friends and his roommate, you’re inevitably swept up in everything he does. You’re used to the weirdly acrid smell of photo development fluid and how cold dark rooms can get. You use phrases like chiaroscuro and sfumato to describe the simplest things after listening to Taehyung do the same for so long. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve tripped over his saxophone case when he leaves it lying around the apartment. You regularly wear the baggy t-shirt with the face that Taehyung had painted on it—even if you still refer to it as the Squidward-House-Shirt despite the fact you know he was inspired by Basquiet and Schiele and not the Easter Island themed stone head that Squidward lives in.
You don’t mind getting dragged along with whatever he does, honestly; you don’t have time to attend every class, but go with him when you can. It’s always good to expand your horizons. You also love watching Tae’s face whenever he learns something new, the various expressions that flit across his features—from wide eyed excitement and eyebrow raising astonishment to the more solemn side that appears whenever he’s taking something in and thinking deeply about it, turning it over in his mind, mulling on it.
(You love watching Tae’s face all the time, actually, but that’s a whole other can of worms you’d rather keep shut.)
However, the latest course he’s signed up for is not one you’d been expecting.
“Massage therapy?” Your face twists in equal parts confusion and surprise.
Taehyung’s dropped this latest nugget of information while you’re cooking, trying to fry some rice while also peering at the phone screen that’s been thrust into your face. You’re not bad at multitasking, per se, but Taehyung’s iPhone is drifting so close that you’re almost cross-eyed and it’s blocking you from seeing what’s going on in the pan.
“I had a coupon,” he says, as if that explains everything. (It doesn’t.)
“Scooch,” you say, and he immediately moves so you can turn the gas off.
“Jiminie and Jungkookie say that my massages help with dance, and that's just from Youtube tutorials.” Taehyung continues to talk as you bustle around the tiny kitchen. He’s already set the table so now he’s free to watch you finish doing the rest of the work. “And Joon-hyung says I have the perfect hands for it.”
You fumble with the pan as you’re scooping the steaming rice into a large bowl, only just managing to save food from scattering everywhere. You’ve thought about Taehyung’s hands a lot, about how large and long fingered and beautiful they are, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Really? Huh. That’s nice.” You stare at the pan, fixated on getting every grain of rice so you can avoid looking at Taehyung’s face. And hands. Which are still cupped around his phone. Which looks so small in his big, pretty grip.
Jesus Christ.
“It means I can give you massages if you ever start to get tense.” Taehyung sounds pleased, lovely grin on his face at the prospect of being able to rub his hands over you. As if that isn’t going to make every single one of your muscles lock up and turn you into some sort of coiled rope of a human being, which is the complete opposite of what a massage is supposed to achieve.
“Great.” Despite your inner turmoil, your voice is level and steady as you meticulously scrape the last grain of rice into the bowl, chasing the tiny fleck of white around the huge pan. Scrape, scrape, scrape. “Sounds fabulous. Can’t wait.”
Of course Taehyung would sign up to learn something that he could use to help his friends. He’s so big-hearted and loving. Big-hearted and loving and kind and funny and affectionate and beautiful and deep-voiced and so entirely overwhelming in every single way imaginable.
You do what you always do when confronted yet again with your all-consuming crush—you bottle that shit the fuck up until he’s not in the room.
And then you have a miniature breakdown at Pickles.
“I am going to die,” you whisper-scream. “He’s going to offer to massage me and he’s going to get a bottle of massage oil out and he’s going drizzle it onto his massive hands and I am going to fucking die.”
The bearded dragon cocks his head as he stares at you. Taehyung had come home with the reptile one day, tank and all, saying that someone on Facebook had been giving him away because they were moving house and could they just look after him for a little while, please, pretty please? Until they found a good home for him? Please?
That was over a year ago. (You’ve always been bad at saying no to Taehyung.)
“I hate my life,” you lament to the lizard, but then you hear the noisy flush of the toilet and know that Taehyung is going to emerge from the bathroom soon, so you have to wrap this miniature meltdown up pronto. “I wish I was a bearded dragon too, you know. All you do is get fed and sit under the heat bulb. Your life is so easy. You don’t even know what capitalism is.”
The silence you get from Pickles is far more support than you get from your human friends once you tell them. Yoongi just raises his eyebrows while Seokjin and Hoseok laugh outright in your face, just like they always do when you cry to them about Taehyung.
You need new friends. These ones are defective. (If only you’d kept the receipt so you could return them.)
“We learned how to do neck and shoulder massages today!” Taehyung says brightly after the first session.
You hum in response. You’re rewatching Pacific Rim together, cuddled up against Taehyung’s side, and you don’t have to turn your head to know what expression is on his face. There’ll be that little upturn to his lips, happiness at learning something new. That warmth in his eyes at being able to share it with you, even if you couldn't be there with him. Those little freckles on his face, under his eye, his nose, his lip; the one you’ve imagined kissing more times than you can count.
“My teacher says I have a natural talent with my hands,” he adds, and you’re so grateful that you can blame your sudden intake of breath on the scene that’s playing on the screen, as high stakes as it is.
“That’s nice,” you say, and mentally pat yourself on the back at keeping the strain out of your voice. You've had a lot of practice at this. “I’m not surprised, though. You’ve always been good at doing things with them.”
That’s not a euphemism. Taehyung’s always so careful when he makes things; you’d learned how to fold different origami patterns together, matching crane for crane, lotus for lotus, and he’d always been so delicate with his fingers. He’s always so careful and considerate with you, too, fingers splayed wide across your shoulder as he squeezes you closer to his side, leaving you breathless.
“I wish you could come too.” Taehyung sounds disappointed. “We always have so much fun together.”
For the first time in your life you’re grateful that your manager at Olive Chicken is such a hardass and won’t let you swap shifts, so you’d had to miss signing up for the massage course with Taehyung—because you know there’s no way you’d be able to keep it together if there was some sort of tandem practice in class or whatever. Your crush on him is filled with equal parts of tenderness and lust and you’re well aware of that. You’d rest your hands on the soft skin of Taehyung’s shoulders and back, the lust would overwhelm you, and you’d immediately burst into flames like some sort of demon stepping over the threshold of a church.
Why oh why did God have to make Kim Taehyung so hot?
Why oh why did God have to make you so… not?
You know Taehyung doesn’t see you in a romantic light at all. You’re grateful for this deep, platonic relationship you have, and you love him to pieces, but holy hell is it hard to walk around with Kim Taehyung looking the way he does and wanting to jump his bones while simultaneously being aware that it’s never going to happen. Whenever he smiles at you, or touches you, or holds you, it’s in exactly the same way as he treats any of his friends—and as happy as you are to be one of those friends, it also kind of kills you inside.
(Because you know you don’t have a chance, have never had a chance, and will never have a chance.)
The idea of offering to massage Taehyung is one that makes you want to melt into a puddle of horny goo. But when he offers to massage you, it’s because you’re a convenient practice partner who he’s comfortable with. It’s no big deal. You could strip naked and slather yourself up in oil and stand in front of him with your bosoms heaving and say ‘Have at me, big boy’ and Taehyung would say: ‘Sweet! A chance to practice deep tissue massage! Gee, thanks for being such a great pal!’
The kind of deep tissue you want Taehyung to massage is very different to whatever he’s talking about.
… Anyway.
You manage to avoid Taehyung using his apparently magic fingers on you for a surprising amount of time, though you’re kept up to date with his progress, because he shares everything with you and tells you about everything and you always, always listen. Because, more than being your crush, he’s one of your best friends and you love him.
Which is why you try your best to be gentle, graciously refusing his offer of a shoulder massage after he sees you wincing, even if with anyone else you’d just tell them to back off with zero hesitation.
“It’s fine,” you say, flapping a hand at him. “I just slept on it funny.”
“A massage would help! It won’t take long, I promise. Five minutes? Please?”
Taehyung’s looking at you with those big puppy eyes of his, pleading. You waver. You’re torn between being steadfast and avoiding a situation you’ve literally had nightmares about (Taehyung had offered to massage you, and you’d said yes, but then you’d fallen over as you were walking to him and suddenly a lasagne had appeared in your hands and you’d spilled it all down your shirt and he’d pointed and laughed and laughed and you’d felt so embarrassed that you’d woken up, cheeks burning), but then he pouts and you give in like the spineless and lovesick fool that you are.
“Five minutes,” you say, and Taehyung nods emphatically, looking pleased.
(You have the backbone of a chocolate éclair.)
You send quiet thanks to whatever God is listening when he doesn’t ask you to take your top off and doesn’t break out a bottle of scented oil. Instead he just asks for you to straddle a chair, clutching a plushie against your chest to cushion where it leans against the backrest, and tells you to get comfy.
“Just relax,” he says, as you desperately try to remember how your body works and coax it to relax like Taehyung wants you to. You fail miserably. You feel like a ball of rubber bands, each muscle a layer of tighter and tighter elastic that’s circled around you. “Lean forwards a little?”
At least Taehyung can’t see your face from this angle. You have no idea what sort of expression is twisting your features; consternation and horrified anticipation, probably. You're basically throttling your plushie, taking out your tension and frustration on the poor thing, Rilakkuma's placid face morphing into a twisted expression of sympathy under your grasping fingers.
“Perfect,” Taehyung says. The sound of praise in his deep voice has your insides turning into overheated syrup, hot and thick, dripping down and pooling between your legs. You hate yourself. Getting turned on by the most innocuous words from your best friend, really? Get it together.
The second you feel Taehyung's warm hands touch the back of your neck, your shoulders hunch up faster than a whiplash, a turtle sucking its head into its shell. Your friend laughs.
“This is the opposite of relaxing,” he says, voice warm with amusement.
“You surprised me.” You dig your nails into Rilakkuma's soft brown fur. Taehyung just thinks you're not used to being massaged, not that you're being weird because it's him that's touching you. Because he touches you a lot. He’s just never done it like this. “Sorry.”
“It's fine,” he replies, unruffled and oblivious. “Let me try again?”
You bite your lip, desperately trying to quell the mix of arousal and tension that’s churning in your stomach, begging your muscles to unwind. You’ve kept your crush a secret from him for this long, you can keep that energy up. (You have to keep that energy up.) “Um. Okay.”
You’re still tense when Taehyung puts his hands on you again. The touch is warm through your clothes, firm but careful, digging into the sharp line of tension laid across your shoulders; despite the way your heart is threatening to launch itself out of your chest, you start to loosen up, because holy shit that feels nice, actually.
You melt against Rilakkuma and smother the bear's face in your chest. “Your teacher wasn’t kidding when they said that you’re good with your hands,” you mumble.
You’ve never gotten a proper massage before but it feels so damn good that you can’t help but unwind, turning to jelly at the confident presses of Taehyung’s fingers and palms into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder. A little sigh spills past your lips when Taehyung starts to work at the part that’s been twinging after you lay crookedly on it, limbs akimbo in your sleep after a long night at work. “Oh, right there, Tae.”
Taehyung goes still for just a second before continuing, trailing his fingers over your shirt. “Here?”
Your eyes have drifted shut so you can focus on the sensation of that tension being pulled out of your body. “Yeah, right there,” you repeat, massaged into a state of lazy euphoria. The breath you let out is long and deep, catching in the back of your throat at a particularly firm rub of Taehyung’s hands; if you weren’t so blissed out you might be embarrassed at how much the noise you make is like a moan, but as it is, you don’t even notice. You just let out a little sound of discontent when Taehyung’s fingers stutter in their motions, displeased that he’s stopped even for a second.
By the time the massage is over, you’re so relaxed that you feel like you could melt into the floor, a wobbly puddle of unwound muscles and loose limbs. It’s official. You’re a massage convert.
“Holy shit.” Your eyes flutter open as you lean away from Rilakkuma so you can turn around. They’re the first coherent words you’ve spoken for a while; small sighs and sounds have been dripping from your lips and it’s only now that you’re able to regain your breath. “Tae, that was amazin—”
You’re met with the sight of Taehyung’s back as he power walks away, steps rapid, a little shaky, awkward. Before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s stepping into the bathroom.
“I need to wash my hands,” he says without looking at you, before the door slams shut.
You don’t remember Tae telling you about how quickly you have to wash your hands after finishing a massage. But, thinking about it, you suppose it makes sense—you know, with massaging multiple clients or whatever—even if it’s surprising exactly how fast he’d hoofed it away from you. It sounds like he’s switched both taps on full blast as well, noisy even through the wooden door, and judging from how long he’s in there, he’s being very thorough. Hand washing must be a lot more important than you’d realised.
Once Taehyung emerges, his face is a little flushed, cheeks a soft red. You wonder if the hot water tap is playing up again and filling your dinky bathroom with hot steam, and make a mental note to look into it. You smile at Taehyung from your perch on the sofa, Rilakkuma plopped on your lap, smile spread across your features; one that Taehyung returns, as pink-faced as he is.
“How’s your shoulder feeling?”
“So much better, honestly,” you admit. It’s incredible. He hasn’t even finished the course yet and he's already this good. He really does have magic hands.
“I’ll have to give you massages more often,” Taehyung says, though the end of the sentence trembles a little. He must be light-headed after all the steam in the bathroom.
The thought of more massages doesn’t fill you with as much mind-numbing trepidation as it might have earlier, utterly languid as you flop across the sofa, muscles uncoiled after the lovely touch of Taehyung’s even lovelier hands. No wonder people rave about spa days if they leave you feeling like this. Maybe if you’d been staring at Taehyung in the eye when he’d been touching you, then you’d feel a lot more awkward—as it is, it’s no worse than usual. Your crush is still all-encompassing but you also got a massage out of it, so.
“Sounds great.” This time you don’t even have to fake your excitement. “Now come sit your butt down so we can order some takeout and decide what to watch.”
When you bend down to speak to Pickles later, the bearded dragon is lolling on his favourite branch. “There’s still a high chance that I’m going to die,” you say in a low voice, before you flick the lights off so the lizard can sleep. “But he hasn’t broken out the oils yet, so I think I’ll be okay for now.”
--
Your luck doesn’t last.
“Strawberry and champagne, lychee martini, mint mojito, white chocolate, or tropical coconut?”
You look up from where you’re painting your toenails. “Huh?”
Taehyung bundles into the room and throws himself onto your bed, flopping on his belly and ignoring the way the mattress is jostled. You, of course, are used to his antics, which is why you’d swept your open bottle of nail polish up before he could spill it everywhere.
“What do you think sounds best?”
“Well, that depends,” you say, squinting at your toes and carefully sweeping the polish over the freshly buffed nails. “For candles, I think they sound pretty nice. For sauces to pour over a steak, I’d say I’d give them all a hard pass. What’s it for?”
“Massage oils,” Taehyung says blithely, too busy staring at his phone to see you muffle a curse when your hand slips and you paint your entire little toe blue. “I was wondering which you think sounds best.”
“Oh. Uh.” You fumble to clean your toe and salvage the now-terrible pedicure you’re trying to give yourself. It was only a matter of time before massage oils were going to become part of your life. Taehyung never goes into things half-hearted, so of course he’s going to invest in oils, too. God’s sake. You can never catch a break, can you? “Why these ones in particular?”
Taehyung pauses for a suspiciously long time, but it gives you the chance to furiously rub at your toe while he’s distracted. “We get a free bottle from the course,” he says eventually.
Huh. Okay. “That’s pretty neat. What was the last one? Coconut? Stick with the basics, can’t go wrong with that, right?”
“Coconut is always tasty,” Taehyung comments absently, and you glance up from your Smurf toe.
“Agreed, but it’s not like you’re about to eat massage oil, are you?”
Taehyung pauses, and then buries his face into his phone screen—suddenly very intent on rereading the list of ingredients in each bottle, it seems. “No, of course not, you’re right,” he mumbles.
He’s almost finished the course. He’s not going to be an accredited masseuse or anything, but you definitely think he could be, if he wanted to—you’ve never had less tension in your shoulders and neck in your life. Taehyung always eases his way into your personal space anyway, casual and effortless after years of friendship, but now you’re used to his fingers sliding over the back of your neck, a gliding touch, sending tense little goosebumps over your skin while simultaneously making you melt.
“It’s pretty cool that you get free stuff, though.” Your toe is clean, thankfully, no longer blue. “And not just, like, a generic bottle of oil or something. They all sound really fancy. I didn’t realise that you could get massage oils that were scented like that?”
Taehyung makes a non-committal noise, which is uncharacteristic of him, but you’re too focused on repainting your final nail to pay it too much mind, letting out a loud huff of triumph when you’re done.
“Get me a bag of shrimp crackers, please?” You have a sudden craving but you don’t want to penguin waddle to the kitchen and risk getting anything on your wet nails. “Ya girl is hungry.”
“Got it.” Taehyung rolls off the bed without protest. You’re used to his antics, and he’s used to yours, indulging you whenever you feel lazy or want him to do something for you. “You need me to feed you?”
“I wasn’t going to use my toes to feed myself,” you laugh, but Taehyung ends up feeding them to you anyway.
When you recount the list to Seokjin later, his face crumples in a way that’s equal parts offended and disgusted. “They all sound terrible,” he says. “White chocolate should stay in chocolate form and not be turned into an oil. Why does massage oil even have to smell like anything?”
You’re both holed up in the tiny smoking nook behind Olive Chicken; neither of you smoke, but it’s a good excuse to go outside and get fresh air during longer shifts.
“Hey, don’t ask me, I’m not the one who’s taking the course. I think lychee martini sounds interesting, though.”
“Agree to disagree.” Seokjin unwraps one of the complimentary chocolates the restaurant gives to diners with their bill, swallowing it whole. “Besides, we all know Taehyung could approach you with dirty, used fryer oil and you’d let him dip you in it.”
You slap the next chocolate out of his hand before it reaches his mouth. He’s unmoved and simply plucks another from his pocket, which is apparently bulging with them.
“Yoongichi,” Jin says, calling to the delivery boy, who’s just appeared from the dark like some tired-eyed spectre of fried chicken. “Tell me this. If I were to ask you what smell of massage oil you’d prefer, what—”
“I would say that I really could not care less.” Yoongi flops down on one of the rickety fold-out chairs before silently accepting a chocolate from Seokjin’s stash. “And then I’d ask why you’re asking me in the first place, seeing as you’re the one using it, not me. If Taehyung’s asking what massage oil you’d prefer, Y/n, it’s because he wants to rub it all over you specifically.” Yoongi munches on the chocolate, already filling in the blanks without needing to be told the context. You really are that transparent, huh. “Please, we’ve been over this.”
Jin pouts. “You ruined my set up. I had a whole speech prepared.”
“I hate both of you,” you say. “I’m going to tell Pickles how mean you are.”
“I bet if that lizard could talk, he’d tell you how tired he was of you two dancing around each other, just like the rest of us,” Yoongi says.
There’s no dancing around, though, no matter what your friends say. Well. Not on Taehyung’s end anyway. You’re out here doing the fandango, castanets and all, while Taehyung just stands stock still, oblivious.
You let out an incredibly long sigh. Seokjin hands you a sympathetic chocolate.
The massage oil doesn’t make an appearance in your life for a little while, though. The end of the course comes and goes, Taehyung proudly flapping the laminated certificate at you, wobble-wobble-wobble, filling the apartment with the sound of rippling plastic. But no coconut oil.
The scent of ‘tropical coconut’ has started to haunt your dreams, in a way that’s both good and bad; when you wake up in a sweat, heart pounding, it’s not because you’re having nightmares, let’s just put it like that. It’s like there’s an invisible countdown that you can’t trace and it’s only a matter of time before it ticks over and the shoulder massages (that you’ve gotten very comfortable with) edge into something different. Taehyung’s going to innocently offer to give you a backrub and uncap that bottle of scented oil and you’re going to explode into a mess of putty under his hands.
Well… then again… you had been worried about that with all the shoulder rubs. Now look at you. You weather those like a champ. Sure, your skin tingles and you run hot and you think about the sensation of Taehyung’s hands gliding over you whenever you’re alone, but you’re basically fine. Your friend who just so happens to also be the great love of your life remains none the wiser.
You bet a full back rub would feel great after a long week.
Which is why when Taehyung steps into the apartment with a look on his face that you immediately recognise as tiredness, you sort of wish you knew how to massage people, too.
He falls into your arms with little fanfare. It’s been one of those days, one of those ones that everyone gets, even Taehyung—he’s usually so Switched On and Exuberant and Alive, and people don’t seem to realise that even he feels exhausted, sometimes.
“You alright, bubs?” You can’t massage him but you can rub his back soothingly, let him snuffle against your neck. Sometimes you think about that little space between your chin and collarbones as Taehyung’s, a hollow that’s perfect for him to press his face into, hair tickling your chin as he curls up into you. His and his alone. “Did something happen?”
He just shakes his head.
“Okay,” you say.
(Close proximity and skin on skin with Taehyung doesn’t always have your pulse rising and your heart racing. Sometimes it’s just this: quiet and soft, your heart bright with fierce affection for this boy, the only thought in your mind that you want him to be happy, forever.)
The long silence is broken by the sound of Taehyung heaving in a breath before letting out a long, exhausted sigh.
“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and low, far less energetic than his usual self.
“Nothing to thank me for, Tae,” you reply. “Always here for you. You know that, right?”
He doesn’t respond straight away. He just burrows closer, draped over you, until he murmurs, barely audible. “Why?”
Your face twists. “Why, what? Why am I always here for you?”
“Yeah.” Taehyung squeezes himself impossibly closer, skin warm against yours, forehead pressed to the skin of your neck. You can’t see his expression from this angle.
“Because you’re one of my best friends and I love you,” you answer, immediately. You don’t even have to think about it. “Because you’re important to me and if there’s anything I can do for you, I will. I’ll celebrate the good things in your life with you, and I’ll be at your side during the bad times, just like you are with me. Please don’t ever forget how much I love you, okay?”
There’s a pause, and then it feels like all the tension leaves Taehyung’s body, slumping his whole body weight against you. “Okay,” he murmurs. “I love you too. Thank you,” he says again. You just reply by squeezing his shoulders.
He’s a little quieter for a few days after that. You’re not sure why, because he’d perked up after a lazy evening of lying around and eating too many snacks, flopped against you like an oversized, clinging starfish—but you’re gentle with him nonetheless.
(Well. You’re always gentle with him. It just takes you half a second to fold in the face of his whims, rather than a whole, full second.)
So when the dreaded bottle of oil finally appears, you’re far less ready to fight off Taehyung’s insistence on a full body massage, caught off guard after days of indulging him. Fuck.
“You’ve had a long week!” Taehyung insists as you scrabble your way over the sofa’s backrest so you can hide behind it, clutching a cushion to your chest. “You need to relax!”
Without looking you fling the cushion over the sofa. Judging from the fact that Taehyung doesn’t make a sound, you’ve missed. “I was feeling perfectly relaxed until you started yelling at me about it! Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me being relaxed?”
Taehyung doesn’t respond. Oh, crap. Maybe you did hit him with the cushion?
You pop up from behind the sofa. Nope. It's an embarrassing distance away from Taehyung, who’s got that surprisingly large bottle of oil held loosely in his hands. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t decipher; a little crestfallen, a little unsure, but there’s something else there, too, something you can’t put a name to.
“Taehyung?”
“I just… wanted to help,” he says. “You’re always there for me when I’m not feeling great, and you calm me down, and I wanted to do the same for you.”
You immediately feel like the worst human being alive. Take the feeling you get whenever you accidentally step on an animal’s tail, multiply it by infinity, and that’s only just a drop in the ocean of awful, awful guilt that you’re drowning in.
“Oh, Tae,” you say. Your voice comes out so much softer and sweeter than you mean it to, but you can't help it. “I’m sorry. I was just joking. It’s really nice of you to be so concerned. You just surprised me. You do help me relax and your massages are great.” (You tell him that often enough that he should know it, but it never hurts to repeat a compliment.)
His face lifts. It’s like the sun bursting forth from the clouds after heavy rain, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes, blinded by the brightness and beauty. Kim Taehyung is so unfairly gorgeous (but what else is new?). “So I can give you a massage?”
Despite the fact the prospect makes you want to fling yourself into space, when you’re faced with Taehyung’s dark eyes and wide smile and large, warm hands, you cave, because of course you do. If, way back when you’d first been frying up that kimchi rice and letting Taehyung thrust his phone into your face, you’d been told you’d end up in this position, you would have laughed outright. Haha, yeah, sure, like you’d be stupid enough to let yourself be wrangled into such a vulnerable state in front of Taehyung, nowhere to run, helpless under his fingers. Not.
But here you are. Whipped for Kim Taehyung, forever and always.
The pastel blue towels under your stomach and chest are soft as they shield you from the cold, hard floor. You’re incredibly aware of how chilly the apartment feels, air prickling against your bare skin; you shift to try and get comfortable, glancing over your shoulder to fiddle with the towel that’s draped over your hips and ass, making sure it’s covering everything. Taehyung insists on authenticity (as if you’re not lying on the floor of your apartment rather than on a massage table) and he says that it’s normal to be completely naked for a full-body massage, even underneath any towels that are covering you up.
Authenticity is also why he’s in the other room, warming up the massage oil, because that’s apparently a thing?
(You’re going to die.)
It doesn’t matter that Taehyung will only be able to see the back of your head, your shoulder blades, the small of your back, a slip of your thighs, your calves. None of these things are especially scandalous; all the parts of your body that someone might find more interesting are out of sight, pressed against the floor or hidden under a layer of Egyptian cotton microfibres.
And yet you can’t help but be hyperaware of how you’re entirely unclothed. Even if it doesn’t bother Taehyung—what with, you know, the fact he’s not interested in you like that and doesn’t find you attractive at all (sigh)—embarrassment creeps hot and uncomfortable under your skin.
It just feels so crazy intimate to be laid out like this, even if people do this all the time, happily strip down to let professionals rub the tension out of their body.
(Then again, most people aren’t best friends with their masseuses and haven’t harboured long, one-sided crushes on them, either.)
Just breathe. You can do this. You love the shoulder massages that Taehyung’s been giving you; just think of this as a shoulder massage.
… A shoulder massage that involves warm oil, near-nakedness, and Taehyung’s hands sliding all over you.
… You are going to have a very long venting session with Pickles after all this.
You’re so distracted by your own self pity and distress that you don’t register the sound of Taehyung entering the room; the little pause when he steps over the threshold, feet stuttering, just for a moment. It’s only when he’s kneeling down that you notice his presence, body jolting from surprise before you let out a slip of high laughter.
“Jesus, Tae,” you say. In any other circumstance, you’d be clutching your chest. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” He sounds genuinely apologetic.
Your cheek is pillowed on your arms. When you turn to look at your best friend you immediately regret it; he’s settled back on his ankles, knees spread wide, and you come eye-to-eye with his crotch.
In an effort to look away from his clothed dick, your gaze flies up to his face, which might be even worse. He has this intense look in his eyes, and wow, alright, you’ve never been able to see Taehyung’s face as he’s been massaging you, but you never realised exactly how seriously he seems to take it, judging from his expression.
(Do all massage therapists look like that when they work?)
“That’s alright.” You’re a little breathless, but you’re going to blame that on how your boobs are smooshed into the floor, and not on anything else, nuh uh. Shoulder massage. It’s a shoulder massage. It’s just like a full bodied shoulder massage. (Maybe if you repeat it to yourself often enough then you’ll actually start to believe it.) “Uh. Do you need me to… do anything? Or do I just lie here?”
Taehyung’s expression lightens a little at the uncertainty in your tone, smile curling up the corners of his mouth. “You’re perfect right where you are,” he says, and then he reaches for the bottle of oil.
You turn your head away again, cheeks burning. There’s no way you’ll be able to handle the visual of him slicking his fingers and palms up. “Cool,” you say, voice only a little strained. “Coolcoolcoolcool.”
(It’s not cool.)
You don’t have a visual, but you do get the auditory experience thanks to the relative silence in the apartment. Goosebumps ripple down the back of your neck and trail down your spine at the sound of Tae’s hands sliding against each other, thoroughly coated in the warmed oil, and you’re so glad that you can blame it on the chill in the air.
At first, it’s okay. Taehyung starts at the parts of your body that are used to receiving his attention, though it’s different without the barrier of clothing in the way, not to mention how easily his palms glide over you, the air full of the light scent of coconut. It’s different, but manageable, and you think you just might be okay; as always, his touches are firm but careful, and your body is used to this by now, relaxing.
But. The second you feel Taehyung’s touch between your shoulder blades, you stiffen with a shiver. The oil is the perfect temperature against your skin, but you’ve always had a sensitive back; you can’t help but clench your fists, digging your fingers into your palms. Relax. Just breathe.
“You’ve got a lot of tension here.” Taehyung’s voice is low as he digs the heel of his palm into the dip of your spine.
It’s because you’re touching me there, you think to yourself, but just let out a non-committal hum of agreement instead.
You feel Taehyung's hands, a repeated sliding motion between your shoulder blades; the tension starts to leak out of you again, but your breath hitches in your throat at how you're pressed downwards and into the cotton towels beneath you, nipples hardening against them.
Thank God you're on your front so Tae can't see what effect he's having on you.
“Better?”
Taehyung's voice is always deep, but you'd swear it was even deeper in this moment, pitched low. Maybe that’s because the sound of blood pumping is filling your ears so it’s hard to discern. At this point, who even knows? Not you, that’s for sure.
“Yep.” Why are you so breathless? You haven’t moved at all, but you sound like you’ve just run the 100m sprint, winded and weak. “So much better.”
You regret agreeing to this. You are so out of your depth and there’s no way you’re going to be able to hide exactly how much this is affecting you and you want to collapse in on yourself and shrivel up like a sundried tomato, tiny and wrinkly and underwhelming.
Taehyung shifts to reach more of you and you squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t come face first with his crotch again, shielding yourself from the view of his loose linen trousers stretched almost taut with how wide his knees are. It’s both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because you’re saved from aforementioned view, but a curse because your sensation of touch is heightened, and all you’re aware of is his hands sliding down your sides. You’d swear those fingers were so long he could circle your waist with ease.
(Massages are meant to relax you and yet you’ve never felt so tense in your life.)
Taehyung clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I can’t get a good angle like this,” he mutters.
Before you can think anything or say anything, you become aware of the sound of moving and shifting and—
Your eyes fly open. Taehyung’s straddling your thighs, heavy and warm, and you suck in a breath so sharp and fast you can feel your chest expand, brain full of the screaming clang of warning bells. There’s no way this is a normal masseuse thing. There’s no way. It’s intimate and entirely too physical and there’s absolutely no way that this is something Taehyung learned in class.
(What is he doing?)
But then any coherent thought in your brain slips when his hands settle on you again.
They so, so lightly brush the hem of the towel that preserves your modesty, and you can’t help the full-body shiver that wracks through you. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down the noise that threatens to bubble up in your throat. There’s the sensation of fingers trailing up the line of your spine, feather light, smoothed by the slide of oil, and you feel like molten lava, burning hot and bright.
“Taehyung.” Your voice is high and faint.
His fingers splay down your ribcage and run down your sides, confident and smooth, warm with that coconut-scented oil, and you’re dying, you’re living; you want to disappear, you never want this to end.
“Taehyung,” you repeat. Your voice shakes.
He hums, low and indulgent. “Yes?”
“M-my thighs,” you stammer, unable to articulate yourself. Why are you on my thighs, oh God, you’re so warm and heavy on top of me, oh God oh God oh God.
Taehyung completely misunderstands you. “Oh? Of course.” He sounds nonchalant. “I’ll massage those next.”
You can feel the drag of his linen trousers against your skin as he moves down to rest on your calves, and hear the bottle open as Taehyung drizzles more oil over his hands, far more than he could possibly need. His palms feel so broad and warm against the smoothness of your thighs, touches firm and confident as he digs his fingers into the muscle, and, oh, fuck, this is, this is too much—
Your legs jump when Taehyung hitches the towel up, just a little, baring more of your body.
“Fuck.” You can't keep quiet any longer. “Tae, I’m fine, I’m feeling way less tense now.”
He’s still, for a moment, before his hands slide up the back of your thighs. “Are you sure? You want me to stop?”
It’s only then that you realise how deeply Taehyung is breathing, fast and low, voice rough and gravelled. His fingers rest in wait, warm and slick with oil; you’re so close to losing any modicum of modesty, only one motion away from that towel being rucked high enough that there’s nothing protecting you from Taehyung’s touch and eyes.
“I haven’t finished yet, though,” he continues, digging his thumbs into your skin as he pulls his hands down your thighs, mindlessly following the motions he’s been taught. “There’s still more to go.”
You could twist around to look at him but you’re almost afraid to look at his face, afraid of what you’d find there. He sounds as affected as you are, but there’s absolutely no way. There’s no way.
“You don’t need to do the whole massage if I’m feeling relaxed, right?”
(Because you’re feeling so relaxed right now, of course, and not like you’re about to go supernova and burst into heat and light. Absolutely.)
(But.)
(But. Taehyung’s hands settle at the back of your knees, swiping the sensitive skin with his thumbs. You can’t see his face, but you can feel something in that touch, something more than skin deep, like it’s sinking into you, through skin and muscle and bone, in in in, settling inside you, a flicker of—of—)
“Want to do this perfectly for you,” he murmurs. You clench your hands at the husky note in his voice, nails digging so hard into your palms it hurts. “You deserve the best. I want you to feel good.”
He must be able to see your back rise and fall as you breathe in sharply.
“Taehyung.” Almost pleading.
“Yes, love?”
You suck in another sharp breath. The pet name sounds so soft and sweet in his mouth, somehow, even with the heated edge to his voice. One that’s definitely there. You’re not imagining it.
(You’re not.)
“Do you want me to make you feel good?” he continues.
Before you can think, you nod.
“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”
You’re trembling. Taehyung’s still heavy and warm across the back of your calves, sliding one hand to the inside of a knee and up the soft skin of your inner thighs. You instinctively shift them apart, as far as you can with Taehyung trapping your legs, and, oh, his hand is going higher, oh—
His hand is so big, cupping your overheated sex. It’s hard to tell where the oil ends and your own arousal begins, flushed wet and hot; when he dips his middle finger between your lower lips, long and gentle and firm, you let out a noise you didn’t realise you were capable of. The angle is off, a little awkward, the motions of Taehyung’s fingers stifled by how you’re lying flush to the ground, but God, you’re so turned on it barely matters.
You’re hyperaware of everything. The soft touch of air on the cooling oil across your skin. The fall of the towel, bunched around your waist, slowly slipping to one side. Taehyung’s hand, his fingertips easing through the heat of you, sliding over your clit, over your entrance, slow and soft and amazing.
“Again,” you plead. “Again, Tae, please.”
“Feels good?” He asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod, cheek still pillowed against your arm.
“So good,” you say. “But I want more, please, Tae.”
“Anything you want,” he murmurs.
Taehyung’s hand shifts between your legs again, so hot, so big, so reverent. The slide is smooth as his fingers press into your folds, practically gliding. You twist beneath him, letting out a noise of displeasure when he draws his hand away, but then he lifts off your calves. You let him thrust your legs apart before he resettles between them.
Just as you’re distracted with the towel being tugged away from your hips, baring you entirely, Taehyung slides a finger into your weeping cunt.
You whine. It's so long. Now that your calves aren’t trapped, there’s nothing to stop you from rutting back against his fingers. He splays his other hand over the soft flesh of your ass, encouraging the rolling motion of your hips, and you’re gasping, wanton in your noises of desire and pleasure. One finger becomes two, and then three, Taehyung’s voice a low undercurrent to your stuttered moans as he presses them as deep as he can.
“Just like that, angel,” he breathes. “Want you to feel good, keep making those pretty noises, let me know how good it is—”
“Taehyung,” you whine, dragging the syllables of his name out when he curls his fingers inside you, so amazing, hitting you in all the right places.
“Baby.” He sounds wrecked, words sliding together, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You’re so hot n’ wet, fuck. So perfect. Just like that, keep moving like that.”
You can hear the slick sounds of his thrusts into you. He’s already learned what you like, twisting his fingers in a way that leaves you breathless; they’re so fucking long, sliding into your greedy cunt with ease, reaching so much deeper than your own can. His pretty lovely hands are on you, inside you, and you’re heady at the thought.
“There, Tae, don’t stop, please, p-please.” The coil twists tighter in between your legs, a taut thread that’s ready to snap. He listens, repeating the motion that’s pulling you closer to the edge, eyes wide, staring at the way you’re writhing underneath him; the way the oil on your back and legs shimmers in the light, the evidence of his touch all over you, shining. “Tae, oh, God, right there, yes, yes, yes—”
Your entire body goes tense and then you’re cumming around Taehyung’s fingers, clenching your thighs together, trapping him inside as you buck your hips. You grind back against his hand, a loud moan falling from your lips, drowning out the noise of awe that Taehyung makes when he feels your walls pulsate around him. You're warm and tight and wet, arousal flooding thick against his skin, and he lets out a stuttered groan, fingers buried knuckle deep inside you, feeling every wave of pleasure that rocks through your core.
You’re panting by the time you settle back down and barely make a sound when Taehyung drags his fingers out of you. When he leans down the oil on your skin feels tacky against his clothes, material sticking to you, chest to back, hips to ass. You can feel the hot curve of him through his trousers, his cock heavy, getting harder—and it feels sososo good.
Taehyung’s face is so close, now, chin hooked over your shoulder. Even though you can feel the hardness of his cock pressed against you, the smile on his face is so gentle. Your heart thrums in your chest.
“So cute n' pretty,” he says, and presses his nose to the soft curve of your cheek. Rather than coconut, all you can smell is his shampoo, familiar and homely and heady. “All over. God, I can’t believe you’d let me touch you like this. I’m so lucky. Was that good, baby?”
“Yes,” you say, and then, because you’re still floating in a light haze of disbelief: “I’m the lucky one.”
Taehyung laughs, low and quiet. It’s a honeyed moment, dripping slow and sweet, even sweeter when he tilts his head forward. His lips are soft against your cheekbone, your jaw, and when you turn towards him, they’re even softer against your mouth. You can feel the shape of his smile, and it tastes so bright, small kisses that turn open mouthed, so perfect. Because you’re kissing Kim Taehyung, your Taehyung, something you’ve been dreaming about for so long, now—even if this entire situation is pretty unbelievable, honestly.
When you pull back, his eyes spark with unadulterated joy. He’s warm and heavy, pinning you down against the towels that are soft against your front; arching your spine, you lean back against the weight of Taehyung’s body, his cock fattening up through the layers of clothes that separate you. He lets out a breath of surprise before he grinds down, pressing that hard heat against you, and your cunt clenches.
“Can I finish the massage?” He asks, sounding almost eager, even with the rasp of lust in his voice. You can’t help but laugh, an affectionate giggle that has you knocking your foreheads together.
“Of course,” you say, and he catches your lips again, swallowing the last of your laughter, sweeping his tongue over your lips, inside your mouth, wet and hot and a little messy, but good.
“You need to be on your back,” Taehyung continues, slow after the kiss is broken, and, oh, okay, that has you shivering. “If you want to?”
Of course you want to.
“Okay,” you whisper. “Let me move.”
He shifts to give you room, but not before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, the bump of the top of your spine, lips sliding against the oil that he’d rubbed there earlier, goosebumps erupting over your skin.
“So good to me,” he whispers. You don’t think he even means for you to hear it.
(It’s said without thought; not thoughtless, no, but a soft little thing that says so much. A thought that’s slipped across his mind and fallen from his lips, warm and tender. Like you’re always good to him, and he sees it, he knows it, he feels it, he thinks it, and he’s almost in disbelief about it, because you’re so good to him.)
You feel warm and languid after cumming, loose-limbed as you flop onto your back. There’s no going back now. There’s no going back from this moment, naked and vulnerable under Taehyung, nothing hidden away any more—the soft fall of your breasts, your stomach, the lines of your hips, your fingers tightening in the towels spread beneath you as Taehyung’s eyes drink you in, wide and overawed at the sight of your flushed cunt, ripe and slick and ready for him.
(There's no more hiding how much you want Taehyung to have you, body and heart alike.)
You can see the shape of your body silhouetted on his clothes, where the oil has seeped into the material from how close he’d been pressed against you. You can see just how affected he is, cock straining against the loose linen of his white trousers, and you bite your lip to try and stifle the sound you make.
“Look at you,” Taehyung breathes, kneeling between your legs. “You’re so perfect.”
Your cheeks burn. “Taehyung, please,” you say, embarrassed. You really aren’t, especially in comparison to model-gorgeous Kim Taehyung, eyes dark and full of heated lust, hair falling in his eyes, effortlessly beautiful, always.
“You are,” he insists. “You have no idea how perfect you are.”
Before he reaches for the massage oil, he sucks the taste of you off his fingers, sloppy and messy. Your pussy throbs at the sight. And—you were also right about the visual being too much to handle, breath catching in your throat as you watch it drip into his broad hands. His palms shine as he rubs them together, interlacing his fingers, so graceful in their motions. You’re so wet from your orgasm, only getting wetter as you stare back at Taehyung, whose gaze has been heavy on you the whole time.
He starts at your collarbones. It’s even slower than before, and you ease underneath him, revelling in the softness of his touch. He sweeps his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, circling his long fingers around your wrists before lifting one of your hands. Your eyelashes flutter as he presses a kiss to your palm, a motion so full of adoration and tenderness it steals your breath away, and you squirm, shy.
“Tae,” you whine. “You can’t just do that.”
Of course he doubles down, lifting your other hand and repeating the motion, letting his lips linger between your head line and your heart line. “I can,” he says, words warm in your cupped palm.
“I hope you didn’t do this in class.” Your voice is too weak for it to come out as the joke you mean it to be.
Taehyung just shakes his head, mouth brushing over the tips of your fingers. “Only for you,” he says. “Did the whole class for you. I wanted—wanted an excuse to touch you more,” he admits, and your heart feels like it’s going to launch itself out of your throat.
“Then touch me,” you say, trying to sound confident even if your cheeks burn.
And he does. He lets your hands drop, gliding his touch back up your arms, down your body, over your legs; he massages your thighs and calves, digs his thumbs into the arches of your feet, circling his fingers around your ankles, shackles you don’t want to escape from. You feel so relaxed and lax, somehow, even if every touch has you biting your lip, anticipation roiling in your stomach for what’s to come, Taehyung laying your legs down softly before he shifts back up, hands held out towards you—
—then he cups your breasts in his big, big hands and your back arches, fingers sliding over your nipples, glistening with coconut oil, circling them with the pads of his thumbs. You let out an embarrassing whine.
“Oh, Tae,” you beg. “More, please.”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
You smile at another soft, unexpected pet name, flustered, but then your eyes slide shut when Taehyung bends down to kiss your neck as he continues to run his hands over the swell of your breasts. He trails his lips over your oiled skin, shifts down, drawing a line from your neck to the valley of your chest, the hard line at the center of your ribcage.
“Tae,” you murmur, and then, feeling bold under the heat of Taehyung’s dark eyes— “Baby.”
He hums before laying another sloppy kiss against your sensitive skin. You can feel the curve of his smile in the kiss. “Yes, love?”
“Is it really okay for you to… you know… get that oil in your mouth? I don’t want you to get sick,” you say, concerned, even through the haze of your arousal. His lips shine with it, at how he’s been trailing his mouth over all the parts of your body that he’s touched.
There’s a short beat, and then Taehyung buries his head against your neck—in that little hollow that’s his, in a motion he’s done dozens of times. Except this time you’re naked and he still has fingers splayed across the soft skin of your chest, nipples dragging underneath his palms.
“You’re always so considerate.” His words are muffled against your skin. “It’s fine. It’s edible.”
“You got edible massage oil from your course?”
Taehyung hesitates. “No,” he admits. “I bought it. It’s edible and, uh. Safe for intimate use.”
You’re silent, just for a moment, and then you can’t help it. You start to laugh.
“Kim Taehyung,” you say, body shaking with amusement. “Did you buy edible massage oil that you can also use as lube?”
Taehyung pulls his face away from your neck and glances up. You’re giggling at him, and he feels so full of love and affection; he can’t help but join in, both laughing at him, loud and carefree.
“It’s why I asked which one you liked,” he confesses, once he can catch his breath.
“I can’t believe you lied to me,” you say, but you don’t mind, really, and he knows it. You lift a hand to push hair out of his face, running your fingers down his scalp. He leans into your touch with a smile, bright and lovely, before he abruptly shifts one of his hands down so he can lick a hot, wet stripe across the skin of your breast.
That stops your laughter pretty fast, surprised hiccup shifting into a broken moan when he engulfs your nipple in the heat of his mouth. “O-oh,” you gasp. “Oh, Taehyung—”
“Been thinking about this for so long.” Taehyung’s eyes are lidded and dark as he leans back, watching the way you react to his touch, arching up towards him. “Wanted to touch you like this so much.”
“Wanted it too,” you breathe. “Wanted—oh, God, Tae, fuck—”
It’s overwhelming. Not just the way Taehyung is flicking his tongue over each of your nipples, pressing his lips against your skin, no—but the idea that he’s been hoping for this, too. Each wet motion of his tongue over your pebbled skin drags pulls out of you; Taehyung’s cock twitches at a loud keen that’s drawn from your lips, a wet patch of precum seeping through his boxers and trousers, darkening the fabric, even though you haven’t touched him yet.
When you reach out to grasp him through his clothes, his hips jolt forward and he bites off a surprised gasp, cutting through the sound with his teeth. He feels long and heavy as you stroke him, thumbing over the wet patch at his tip, hot, even through all those layers between your skin and his.
“I want to feel you, Tae,” you say, staring at him. “Inside me. Please.”
His breath hitches when you tighten your fingers around his shaft and drag your hand upwards, slow and intent.
“The oil isn’t condom friendly,” he admits, abashed.
“Then you can cum in my mouth,” you reply. No hesitation.
Taehyung’s eyes are so wide, but then he smiles, eyes squeezing into crescents, mouth turning up into that lovely, broad grin of his. He looks so sweet and sincere, and you feel like you could explode, stuffed overfull with love for him.
“You really are perfect,” he says.
“Only for you,” you reply, your smile just as bright.
He lays one final kiss to your chest, above your beating heart, before he starts to strip. The oil has obviously soaked through his shirt and onto his skin because it sticks when he peels it off and carelessly throws it aside.
Just like his heart, Taehyung’s body is soft and lovely. You sit up so you can touch him properly, catching him off guard when you pull him in for a kiss—one he eagerly leans into, and without the shirt in the way you can feel the way your skin slides against his, softened with oil.
There really is no one as beautiful as Kim Taehyung. You drag your hands over him, so warm and wonderful under your palms; his chest, his cute tummy, his waist, his hips, the soft skin above his red, neglected cock. He’s radiant in his nakedness, every easing line of his body so perfect as he kneels in front of you, the flush of his skin, the heavy weight of his arousal, head shining with precum, so wet it’s practically dripping.
You lean in to kiss his neck and nip at his Adam's apple as his hands slide over your shoulder blades and down your back, the parts that make you shudder.
“Want you, Tae.” You whisper into his mouth, a soft secret that isn’t really a secret at all, not any more. “All of you.”
“Going to give you everything you want.” The words flow out of him with ease. “Everything you want.”
His chest and stomach shine with the massage oil that’s rubbed off from your own skin. You run your hands across him, and when you finally grasp his cock without the barrier of cloth in the way, he’s almost burning under your grasp, thick, his entire body shuddering when you pump his length. So sensitive to your touch.
“I’m goin’ to make you cum again,” he promises, and you love it, the way he talks when he’s losing himself. “Bet you’ll feel so good around my cock, so perfect.”
A shiver skates through your body. Taehyung’s fingers dig into your skin when he feels you trembling under his hands, and all you can think about is how you want him in you.
“Please,” you say. “Please, wanna make you feel good too—”
“Hands and knees, angel,” he rasps, and, God, yes, those words cut straight through you, sharp and electric.
Maybe you should feel embarrassed at how quickly you obey. The towels underneath you, so carefully placed at the start, perfectly flat, become rumpled as you shift into position; you arch your back, wanting to look as good as possible, and glance over your shoulder to see if it works.
Judging from the look on Taehyung’s face, it does. He looks like he’s never seen anything more awe-inspiring, eyes wide and mouth a little slack, dumbstruck. But then his jaw snaps shut and he splays his hands over the soft skin of your hips, your waist, your ass, shuffling closer to you; you feel the curve of his cock slide against your skin and you bite back a noise of need.
“Fuck, so beautiful.” He ruts forward, and you can feel the wetness of his precum slicking against you, a beaded line drawn across the sheen of massage oil. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”
“Tae,” you plead, already overwhelmed with need, heart squeezing at his words.
“Just one more thing, angel, I promise.”
It’s a good thing that the bottle of massage oil is so big, considering how liberal Taehyung is with it. You gasp when he uses one hand to spread your ass and before you can react there’s a drizzle of oil falling onto your skin, down-down-down, over your cunt, dripping over your inner thighs; Taehyung catches the excess with his palms before he slicks himself up, spreading that sweet coconut over his throbbing cock.
(You wonder what it’ll taste like when you lick it off him.)
When you feel the blunt head of his cock nudging at your pussy, your entire body lights up in anticipation, nerve endings on fire, every inch of your body singing under Taehyung’s touch—and when he finally sinks in, it’s almost effortless. He’s thick and long but everything slides so easy; you gasp and he moans, both lost in how your body opens up for him, hot and wet. By the time he’s bottomed out you're a quivering mess, collapsed onto your elbows. You’re so full. You feel split open in all the best ways, wanting to draw him in impossibly deeper even so.
Taehyung is gripping your sides, hands unmoving even with the slick oil underneath them, fingers digging into your skin. He’s breathing so loud, and when you experimentally shift your hips, he bites back a noise that cuts through that breath.
“How’s it feel, love?” His words slur together in arousal, but the hand that strokes your back is slow, thoughtful. “Feel good?”
“Fuck me, Tae, baby, please,” you beg. It’s so, so so much, so good, amazing, hotter and bigger and harder than anything you’d let yourself imagine, your entire body taking Taehyung and holding him in, in, in. “Please, I need it, it feels good but I want more, please.”
When he pulls away it’s slow and torturous and he goes so far he almost slips out, cock nearly sliding out of your folds. You whine, a little shameless, mostly needy, but then—
The snap of his hips drives you forwards, towels shifting underneath as you scrabble for a hold on something. Each sharp motion of Taehyung’s body has you choking for air and letting out whimpers and gasps, drowned out by the slap of skin on skin; his hipbones meet the soft flesh of your ass, again and again, but all you can focus on is the thick heat of his cock inside you, in-out-in-out, the press of his balls against your clit, everything so wet and smooth and slick.
You can feel how you’re losing yourself to that heady place that’s golden bright with feeling, lust and sex, the rest of the world gone, unimportant. There’s nothing but this—Taehyung touching you, filling your body so well, so perfect, helping you chase that high that’s growing faster and faster, that precipice of pleasure that he’s going to throw you over again, intent on it.
One of his hands trails up your back, between that sensitive dip of your shoulder blades and into your hair, locks tangling with coconut oil before he urges you up. He doesn’t yank or pull but his hold is firm and you end up back on your hands, arms trembling as you try to keep your balance, back bowed, overwhelmed.
“Baby,” he rasps. “Oh, you’re so tight n’ hot, so pretty, fuck. You feel so good, do you feel good?”
Your answer is almost a wail, so overcome with pleasure, sensation, the glide of his hands over your shining skin, the mix of oil and arousal that drips out of you, only getting wetter with each thrust of his hips into you. “So good, o-oh God, Tae, baby, fuck, oh, theretherethere—”
“Here?”
He punctuates this with a roll of his hips, using the hand still on your hip to pull you back onto his cock as he fills you up once more, throbbing heat. He bends over you, and this time, there’s nothing stopping the skin on skin contact, the slide of his chest against your back as he kisses the soft skin behind your ear, nipping at your lobe, and that’s it, you’re gone. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth falls open as another orgasm crashes through you, legs shaking as you cum around Taehyung’s cock, grinding back against him to drag out that pleasure; the only thing holding you up is the hand still in your hair, the lips trailing up the side of your bared neck, the hard cock inside you, keeping you against him, so many points of connection with Taehyung.
(His chest pressed against your back, heart beating so hard you can feel it, your own heart moving in tandem, matching him.)
He’s been whispering filth to you, heated praise and love, how good you feel, how beautiful you are, what it’s like to see you like this, touch you like this, have you like this. Lovely, pretty, perfect, gorgeous, hot n’ wet n’ tight, fuck, love, oh.
You’re still shivering, the final pulses of your orgasm curling through you with each unintentional shift of Taehyung’s hips, the drag of his length inside your inner walls. You can feel something dripping out of you; oil, cum, you don't know, but fuck, it feels so so good.
“Oh, God,” you say. Breathless. “Oh, Taehyung, oh.”
“Pretty darling,” he murmurs. He swivels his hips, grinding against you, and your entire body jolts with oversensitivity, clit swollen where his balls press against it. You tighten around him and groan at how hot and big he still feels inside, even as you still shiver from the come down of your second orgasm. “Gonna roll you over so I can see that perfect face.”
And when you’re on your back again, fucked out and mussed and wrecked, he just stares at you. You’ve watched his face for so long, seen so many expressions flit across his features, but never something like this—it’s a mix of amazement and awe and tenderness and lust and love, a lift to his brows and a spark in his eyes and a set to his lips.
And when he leans down to kiss you, that look doesn’t leave. It melts and softens around the edges as you catch each other's mouths, as you kiss and kiss, small tender things interspersed with longer, deeper touches, lips and teeth and tongue—his eyes darken and his mouth flushes darker pink, kiss swollen and so beautiful, but that expression stays. It stays for you.
Kim Taehyung is beautiful and lovely and unique. Kim Taehyung is so far out of your reach it’s kind of stunning, actually. And yet, here you are, existence of his touch over every part of you, in every part of you, lust driven, love full; the carefully balanced weight of his body splayed over you, pinning you down, keeping you close.
“I wanna see you cum, Tae,” you say. “Please?”
And just like he always does, Taehyung indulges you, just like you indulge him. He presses back inside you, cunt opening up for him so easy, so smooth, like his touch has already been etched into the memory of your body, perfect for him. He stays pressed close, face so near as he rolls into each thrust, sweat and coconut oil painted across your skin as your bodies shift together.
He’s been covering you in his words, both heated and sweet, and now you return the favour. You tell him how good he feels, how beautiful he is, so good, so perfect, so considerate, how much you’ve wanted this. So good, so long and thick, oh, Tae, feels so good, ah-ah-ah, baby, you’re unreal, fuck.
You can see the exact moment he starts to reach his high, the way he sucks in air, the way he lifts his chin, starts to thrust a little harder, a little faster, chasing that thread of pleasure that’s spiralling through him, and you urge him on. You lift your hips and clench so tight it has him gasping, hips stuttering, and you press your nose against his jaw, saying give it to me give it to me give it to me, wanting him to feel the same pleasure he’s given you.
When he pulls out, you’re too busy moving to pay attention to how empty you feel, settling between his legs and swallowing down his shining cock almost desperately. There’s no coconut. You can only taste yourself and when you lave your tongue across his slit it’s all Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, hot and salt and bitter; he gasps and his hips jump and you take it all, lowering your head as far as you can, the head of his cock at the back of your throat before you pull up, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein at the underside, messy and wet. You drink down the wetness of his cock, your own arousal, mixed with his, the precum that beads at his head, staring up at him, your hands sliding over the sheen of his stomach, his thighs, cupping his balls, everything slick with oil and sweat.
“Oh, God.” Taehyung’s eyes are blown and his hair is a mess and his mouth is wide open as he pants for air, watching. “Baby, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”
You suck hard, dragging your lips up from the base of the cock to the rounded tip, swirling your tongue, bobbing your head faster—
“Oh, fuck—”
—and you swallow down each wave of cum, swallow down the way his cock twitches as he spills the evidence of pleasure into your mouth, swallow down the lovely noises that shudder out of him, watching him the whole time, never wanting to look away.
When you take your mouth off his softening cock, you draw a line of kisses with your mouth, up the soft skin of his body, stomach to chest to neck to mouth. He licks the taste of coconut oil off your lips, the taste of himself off your tongue; you curl up in his lap, settled against him, the apartment’s cool air even sharper against your skin, magnified by the oil that still lingers.
(Even without the oil painted across him, Taehyung would still shine, even under the weak light from the cheap lightbulb that hangs above you.)
You feel soft and warm and small in the circle of Taehyung’s arms, pulled close, and you can hear the words in his chest as he speaks, a resonance that touches against your skin.
“‘M sorry,” he murmurs.
You pause.
“Baby, love, darling.” The endearments are sugar sweet in your mouth, soft against his skin before you pull back to look at him, confused, concerned. “Sorry for what?”
“I really—I really was just planning to do a massage, but you’re so…”
You let out a slip of laughter. The room smells of coconut and sex, but when you lay your head against Taehyung’s collarbone all you can smell is the light tinge of his sweat. You breathe in, deep, like you can hold onto that ephemeral part of him. “Oh, Tae. I’m so what?”
“You’re so good,” he says. “So good and kind and lovely and—and so beautiful. I was going to do the massage to make you happy and then… tell you. About how happy you make me.”
You burrow your head into the hollow of his neck, the way he does to you, shy. “I’m not as beautiful as you,” you reply. “Tae, you are literally the most beautiful person alive, and—God, I’ve. I’ve been. So head over heels for you.”
There’s a pause. “Really?”
When you pull back to fix Taehyung with all the surprise in your gaze, you can see that he’s surprised, too. His hair hangs into his eyes, and he looks a little unsure, like he believes you, but finds it impossible to fathom.
You leave massage oil on his cheeks when you cup his face in your hands, staring at him with wide eyes. “Kim Taehyung, I have had daily breakdowns about the intensity of my love for you to Pickles ever since we got him. You’re the first person I think about each morning—usually because we wake each other up—and the last thing I think about at night—well, usually because you end up climbing into my bed more often than not, but, it still counts,” you say. You’re both tangled together in so many ways already. “You’ve had my heart for a long time, you know. I just never thought I had a chance?”
When Taehyung kisses you, it’s brief, a hard press of his lips before he rests his forehead against yours. “You really, really have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted—I want to do everything for you to show you how grateful I am for everything you do for me.”
“You don’t have to,” you protest, but he just smiles.
“I don’t have to, but I want to,” he says. “Like you don’t have to look after me, but you do.”
“That’s because I love you,” you say. “Like, capital L love you.”
You’ve been so afraid of confessing, so convinced that it was an unattainable dream; that Kim Taehyung would never, could never, has never seen you as more than a friend. But the way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s touched you, the way your body still echoes with the feeling of him inside you: you’re not scared, any more. You don’t need to be.
Taehyung’s eyes are so dark and warm when he replies, easy and effortless. “I love you, too.”
Your relationship has always been a give and take, is the thing. When you climb in the shower together, he washes the oil from your back while you massage shampoo into his scalp, laughing when he makes devil horns in his hair. He catches you by surprise when he presses you against the tiles, swallowing your moans when he coaxes one final orgasm from your tired body, rubbing tight circles over your clit as you buck against his hand and water cascades over you both. His cock hardens in your hands, sliding between your legs when you press them together, tight-tight-tight, his length rubbing against your cunt as he fucks your thighs until he’s moaning and shaking and cumming again.
(The water’s cold by the time you finally climb out, but that’s okay. You giggle and kiss as you dry yourselves, each other, excuses to keep touching and feeling, driven by affection, not lust.)
When you’re both clean, and dry, Taehyung’s leg thrown over your hip as he tugs you in, flush with his body under the covers, you press your lips against the line of his jaw.
“Taehyung?”
“Yes, angel?”
You smile and hunch up even closer to him, scrunching yourself up as small as you can to plaster yourself against his side. “Thank you for the wonderful massage. Definitely the best massage I’ve ever been given, ten out of ten, would do again.”
Taehyung laughs, pressing his rectangular smile into the kiss he lays against your lips, and you think that nothing tastes better than the happiness curling his mouth.
“Love you,” he murmurs. Always romantic. “I love you love you love you.”
“Tae-honey-hyung.” And it feels so nice to not have to filter your words, to bite back that second layer of meaning, to try and keep things platonic and chaste when you speak. “I love you.”
And it feels so nice to have your Taehyung beside you, your body still aching with the press of him inside you, a good ache, a nice ache. A physical ache from good love, rather than a heartache from a love you didn’t think was reciprocated. But it is, somehow, each of you so bowled over by each other.
--
(“Hey, Pickles.”
The bearded dragon looks up at you, placid as he lounges in his tank.
“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that you won’t have to put up with me ranting at you any more,” you say. “Taehyung did break out the massage oil but it’s all good. I didn’t spontaneously combust or anything, like I thought I would.”
Pickles’ tongue flicks out as he shifts, and you smile.
“Okay, that’s it, I’m done,” you finish. “Thanks, Pickles. You’re a real pal.”
Taehyung nuzzles into your neck. His arms are a tight circle around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he looks down at the reptile, too. He’s warm and solid against your back, and you lean into him, happiness tingling through you.
“I wonder how much longer we would have taken if you didn’t get that coupon for a massage therapy course,” you muse, and Taehyung chuckles, warm and lovely.
“We would have gotten there eventually. And we would have had each other until we did, anyway. Right, angel?”
Pickles stays quiet as you both kiss, but you can tell he approves.)
Synopsis: The Duchess kept a beautiful gilded cage in her private bed chambers. On a visit with your mother, you happen upon this novelty whilst lost in your aunt’s palace. What you discover in the cage not only shocks you but has you making a vow that you are not able to fulfill until many years later.
A/N: This was written using a challenge from ARMY Amino titled My Fantasy World. My screenshots were Witch/Wizard, Potion, Palace, which I included in my moodboard. These had to be included in the story. I did not get to finish this by my original date goal of Sept 13, which fell on a Friday as I got stuck on how to end it. But this week, I finally got inspiration and was able to finish it for 1. Martes 13, which is similar to Friday the 13th 2. just in time for Jin's departure to fulfill his military service. It's a bittersweet day, and I wish him to stay safe and healthy during his time away from us.
I hope you enjoy this piece. Feel free to leave a comment, heart, and please reblog if you like it.
Wandering the halls of the vastly magnificent palace, you do your best to ignore the pinching of your dress shoes as you walk across the shiny marbled flooring. The cumbersome dress rustles with every step, the sound amplified by the vast ceilings above. You are in search of the library in hopes of easing your boredom. Mother would be entertained for hours with your aunt, the Duchess. They had not seen each other in nearly two years; therefore, they had much to catch up on. A good book would help pass the time.
Stopping, you frown as you glance about.
Nothing looks familiar since the last time you visited. You are quite certain you must have taken a wrong turn. Curse these painful shoes. They muddled your thinking process, to be sure. Nothing left to do but turn back and try a different way.
The sound of the most beautiful voice you have ever heard stops you from taking another step. The notes draw you closer to the door nearest you. As quietly as possible, you turn the knob and push it slowly open. The singing is louder now without the barrier to block the soulful tones. You are only ten and one, but you are familiar with sadness, and this voice is full of it.
Your heart tightens as you step further into the room, engulfing yourself in the thick blanket of gloom that fills the space. Tears sting your eyes, and you find you have to fight to swallow past the lump forming in your throat as you reach the center of the room. As you stand there trying to calm your emotions, you notice the scent of your aunt is all around you.
This must be her private chambers! you gasp inwardly.
Hastening to back out as your mind registers the information, your eyes fall on a cage next to her bed. It is there that the singing is coming from!
The beautiful cage sparkles as you approach it, the candles in the room glinting off every surface they touch. Inside is a small being sitting on a patch of grass, legs drawn up, arms encircling his knees as he sings. His tiny eyes are closed, and his head is tilted slightly down as if it was just too difficult a task to hold it up anymore.
Swallowing thickly, you gather your courage and call out, “Hello?”
He startles, the beautiful melody instantaneously cut off as he stands up abruptly. You almost regret speaking up, already missing the sound of his singing.
You should be scared, you suppose, but instead, you are intrigued. Is he a fairy your aunt has captured and trapped in the ornate cage? If so, you only feel pity for the small creature. A fairy should never be locked up in such a constricting space.
“Hi,” he replies in trepidation as you kneel before him. His minuscule hands encircle the bars as he gazes at you in wonder. “You’re a child like me….”
You grin, “Well, I am a child, but we are not alike at all.”
A giggle escapes your lips, and your hand shoots up to cover your mouth. His own lips quirk up, wholly amused by your candidness.
“I dare say you are correct,” he laughs. “Are you the daughter of the Duke and Duchess?”
“Oh no,” you shake your head. “I am Lady Y/N Y/LN, daughter of the Earl and Countess. My mother, the Countess, is here visiting her sister, the Duchess.”
“I see,” he nods. “It is nice to meet another person, Lady Y/N. My name is Seokjin.”
“It is nice to make your acquaintance, Lord Seokjin.”
Standing swiftly, you offer the most nicely executed curtsy you have ever offered.
“Please, no,” he urges you to straighten. “I am no Lord and do not deserve such a gesture. You can just call me Jin.”
“Well, then,” you say as you straighten. “If I am to be so informal with you, then I expect the same. You may just call me Y/N.”
The boy appears to be not but a few years older than you. How long had he been locked up in the cage?
“Very well,” he nods, breaking into your thoughts. “Have you come to free me, Y/N?”
Your brows rise. Free him? Could you dare? Were you even capable of it? The cage was half your size, after all. There was no way you could carry that out of the room and into the family carriage, much less in a discreet manner.
“I…” You begin, but stop yourself. Were it you in a cage, you would want someone to help you as well. You stare at the plump-lipped boy with a mop of hair the shade of the inside of a pumpkin and instead say, “I could try.” Looking around the object encasing him, you find that while there is a door, the door requires a key to open it. “Do you know where the key is?”
“The Duchess,” he sighs as he sits back down on the grass. “She keeps it upon her person.”
“Oh,” you frown, your shoulders sagging. “There must be another way.”
Nibbling at your lower lip, it takes you a few moments before your eyes light up.
“What?” he asks at the sudden change.
“Move back,” you instruct. “I’m going to pull the bars apart.”
“Aye.”
He smiles, and you wonder if you have ever seen any other being more handsome than he. Your cheeks warm at the thought, and you brush at them with the back of your hands as if that would make the rouge splotches across them disappear. The boy moves to the back of the cage, oblivious to your frazzled state.
Taking a deep breath, you let it out slowly as you slip your fingers between the thin bars. You pull with all your might, gritting your teeth as you tug. Your arms tremble with the effort, but whatever material was used to construct the cage proves much stronger than your eleven-year-old underdeveloped muscles. The bars do not even budge a millimeter.
“I cannot pull it apart,” you lament.
He draws closer, reaching out toward you. Palm up turned, you bring it towards him and watch as he places his wee hand on your index finger.
“It’s ok. You tried,” he reassures.
You stare at the size difference and shake your head in amazement.
“Where did you even come from?” you whisper in awe.
He retreats to the center of the cage, his shoulders shrugging as he shakes his head, “I do not remember.”
“It’s ok,” you smile warmly at him. “I shall do what I can to release you, and then we can figure it out together. Is that ok?”
The forlorn look on his face brightens as he nods, “I would like that very much.”
“Well, then, Jin,” you square your shoulders in confidence. “I am going to go out there and see what I can find that could open this cage. I shall return swiftly.”
“And I shall wait here,” he replies back, the hope in his eyes tugging at your young heart.
With a quick nod, you dash to the door, turning one last time to look at the little boy in the gilded cage. He waves at you, and you give him an enthusiastic wave back before you step out into the brightness of the hallway. You hear the patter of feet from around the corner, so you close the door as swiftly and quietly as you can and step further into the center of the hallway just as a servant rounds the corner.
“There ya are, young Lady Y/N!” she tsks in relief. “Were you not supposed to have headed straight fer the library, little one?”
“Aye,” you nod vigorously. “I seem to have been turned around. Nothing looks familiar.”
“That ya did,” she nods as she steps beside you. “You did not open this door, did ya?”
Slipping a hand behind your back; you cross your fingers as you fib, “Oh, definitely not. I have only just reached this area a few moments before you.”
“Well, that’s a good girl,” she smiles in relief. “Let’s go on then. I shall take ye to the library. A staff will bring you in some tea and a light mid-day meal.”
You follow as she begins to walk back the way you had initially come, your mind already racing with thoughts of how to escape her watch. You ponder where you can get a tool to help you open the lock on the cage. For hours this is all that occupies your mind, though, in the end, it is all for naught.
You are never given the opportunity to leave her sight. And when your mother summons you to be brought to her, you have to fight down the panic as she announces it is time to head home. Heart in your throat, you enter the carriage, your eyes wide as you can only think to yourself that he is going to believe you purposely left him behind.
Time went on in a manner you had never anticipated. Though you had not truly forgotten the boy in the cage, life had become tragedy and mourning one after another for the past seven years. Your mind became preoccupied with assisting with the affairs at home. First, you took care of your mother after losing your sibling shortly after birth. Your father then grew ill a year later and passed. Your mother was devastated by losing two loved ones so close in time. She sequestered herself in your home, not wanting to leave or see anyone.
So while you never visited the Duchess in her home again, she came for both funerals, though she could never stay long. You never dared ask about the wee boy, for then she would know you had been in her chambers. And now, just after your eighteenth birthday, your mother has joined your father and your baby sibling on the other side, leaving you behind and alone in the world.
This time, when the Duke and Duchess come to help with the funeral arrangements, they bring you back to their home after the burial. They take you in as their own until they can find you a husband as you are well past your marrying age.
It is only now that you are tucked in, eyes wide and mind racing as you lie in your new bed chamber, that you are reminded of the tiny boy in the cage. You wonder if he is still there, locked away and hidden from the world. Had he aged as you have? Grown in stature as you have, or was he still a tiny creature forever trapped in a little boys form?
Or…had that all been a daydream? Had it just been a young girl's overactive imagination conjuring up a fantastical creature to stifle her boredom, your mind simply misremembering the entire event? Whatever the case, you were back in the home where said creature had been held. You could check for yourself if any of that had indeed been real.
Throwing your covers off your body, you slip out of bed and place your ear to the door. You sneak out into the hallway when you hear no sounds and are confident that most of those in the palace have all gone to sleep. Though dim, you are grateful to find the passageway towards your destination is still illuminated by various sconces with flickering candles lighting the way.
Your slippered feet make barely a sound as you reach the Duchess’s chambers. Again, you find yourself with your ear pressed to a door. Holding in your breath, you listen as voices murmur behind it. The wood absorbs most of the sounds, but you can make out your aunt’s voice.
“Seokjin, darling,” she is saying. “Please sing me one of your beautiful ballads to soothe my aching heart, for my dear sister has departed from us, and I miss her terribly.”
Tears well in your eyes, and you cover your mouth as a ragged breath escapes you, a sob threatening to spill forth.
You miss your mother. There were hugs you were still meant to be given, words of encouragement you had yet to hear, and what of the smile she would wear holding your own little one in the distant future? But you would never get to feel her embrace, nor would her voice grace your ears ever again and the thought that your future offspring would never get to meet their amazing grandmother made everything hurt even more.
As your heart clenches, you hear him, your little friend, Jin. He is real, after all! No figment of your imagination. He begins to sing a soulful song that has your hand pressing more firmly against your mouth. His voice is so beautiful, even with the barrier of the door muting some of the notes. The timbre of his voice speaks of years of practice. There is no shakiness to it whatsoever. Each word is strong, sure. There is confidence as the melody flows effortlessly from his lips.
Unable to bear the anguish anymore, you run back to your room, burying yourself beneath the duvet. You finally let the tears fall as you sob into your pillow. You had lost your family, and atop it all, you felt a crushing sense of guilt. Guilt for never having returned to see Seokjin. And though you could never get your family back while still in this world, you would do what you could in order to finally rescue the boy in the gilded cage, fulfilling that childhood promise you’d made so fervently long ago.
For several nights you sit outside your Aunt’s chambers, listening to Jin sing for her. You run through various strategies on how to help him escape, working them in your mind in hopes that one will be fail-safe. Whatever the plan, one constant always stood in the way.
The Duchess.
She has no set schedule that you have noticed. You could never know when she would be in her rooms or when she would stay with the Duke. This made it extremely difficult to sneak into her chambers. The longer time passed, the more guilty you felt.
About a week after you move in, you awake, and after dressing, you go in search of the kitchens. It’s early morn yet, the sun only just beginning to creep over the horizon. Nevertheless, there is already movement within the palace walls as the servants prep for a new day. As you approach the kitchen area, you halt at the conversation taking place.
“...the Wizard,” a servant woman is saying.
“The Wizard?” another servant woman gasps. “Do you mean Taehyung the Wizard of Hollow Woods?” You peek around the corner to see a young woman nod at the inquiry. “Celene, have you lost your mind?!” she whisper-shouts. “Nothing good can come of it.”
Celene’s head hangs low, “But you know I have wanted a child of my own for so long, Tia. He promised if I add a few drops of this potion into my tea once a day every evening for a week’s time, I shall become with child.”
Grabbing her hand and squeezing them desperately, Tia demands, “But at what cost?”
You turn back and head towards the front doors, the idea of breaking your fast wholly gone from your mind. You had one mission in mind: to seek out this Wizard the servants had spoken to. Despite the warning Tia had issued, you wonder how bad can the repercussions be if Celene had accepted the potion anyway. Your hope is that he has something that can help you with freeing Jin.
By the time you reach the forest, the sun has completely breached the horizon. The forest is alight with golden patches from rays slipping through the leaves above you. You follow the paths cut into the ground from the constant traveling made through the area. Vague memories of walking these very woods with your father when you were much, much younger surface the longer you walk. You continue until sometime later you reach a wooden structure. You remember passing this once upon a time and your father’s stern warning to stay away, though he never specified why.
Your hands fist as you approach the door, your heart heavy with shame for disobeying your father after all these years. Squaring your shoulders, you push the sad feelings aside and focus on the want to help a friend. You rap your knuckles against the rotting wood and wonder how the structure has not fallen over yet. There is no response, but the door creaks open when you reach up to knock again.
“Hello?” you call as you push the door open further and step over the threshold.
You jump as the door closes behind you on its own. Looking around, you are awe-struck at what you see. The dark wood flooring and walls absorb most of the light, but the illumination from the windows is enough to make out everything that surrounds you.
Everything inside was well taken care of. There was no mistaking someone lived here and kept up with the place. Though small, there was a furnished living room as well as a kitchen area. A hallway led to what you could only assume were bedrooms.
Freezing in place, your hand splays across your chest in surprise as a figure appears from the shadows of the same hallway you had just glanced upon.
“Welcome,” a baritone voice calls to you.
A black cloak with golden embroidering around the edges clings to his head and shoulders like a shadow, obscuring most of his face.
Swallowing thickly, you ask, “Are you…are you Taehyung the Wizard?”
Pushing the hood back, he nods, “Aye.”
“Oh, wow-well,” you clear your throat.
Stunned by his face, your cheeks instantly heat up. The Wizard does not look as you had expected. You were quite certain he would have been much older, his hair white with age and skin wrinkled from the traveling he would have done through the years to obtain his knowledge to further his craft. But no. Not Taehyung. He is…. You blink as you try to ponder a word that would describe the man drawing closer to you.
His dark hair, thick with loose curls that cover his forehead, skims just over his eyes. He makes no attempt to move it away. The eyes that cling to yours are wise and full of so much knowledge; they contradict the youthfulness of his face. Four tiny gems, three black and one white, are adhered to his skin just beneath his eyes in a vertical line and they glint with each step he takes. Taehyung is lean and tall, so when he finally comes to rest before you, you have to crane your neck way up to meet his gaze. You swear you can feel the magic and power ebbing from his body, and it makes your skin thrum uncomfortably. The face you stare up into is one of such handsomeness and beauty combined; he could be called ethereal. It truly felt as if he was not of this world.
“Cat got your tongue?” He quirks an amused eyebrow at you. “Perhaps I should take a step back.”
It’s not a question, and the smirk on his face is enough to brighten your cheeks even more. As he moves away from you two paces, you feel your head clear a bit.
Straightening your back, you tilt your chin up, hoping you appear more confident than you really feel. “I have come seeking assistance in freeing someone.”
His eyes watch you as you fidget with your hands. Trying to keep from showing any more nervousness in front of him, you bury them deep into the folds of your skirts.
“And how may I help with that?” his arms extend out, palms up, in question. “I cannot conjure up tools for you, my dearest. You may go to a blacksmith for that service.”
Brows drawn low, you sigh, “While that is true, it is not a tool I seek, Wizard. My aunt, she holds the key, and I mean this in literal terms. She carries it around her neck always. Is there something you can provide to help me obtain it from her?”
Tilting his head, Taehyung the Wizard queries, “Can you not simply ask her for it?”
Sighing, you admit, “Well, while that would be the easiest route to take, I cannot simply ask her, sir, for I am not even supposed to know this person is sequestered in her chambers. Therefore, if I ask for the key, then she will know I know, and I fear what will happen to him.”
“Him?” Taehyung purrs.
Your eyes widen at the tone, and you stammer, “No, no, tis nothing like that. He is a friend I wish to help. That is all and nothing more.”
He cocks his head, offering a simple, “Very well then. Come and sit. Refresh yourself with a bit of water as I gather some ingredients.”
Your gaze follows his outstretched hand that is pointing to a wooden table decorated with random symbols. Magic was so foreign to you, and you could feel your heart pulsing nervously at the base of your throat as you approached the offered chair.
As you finally take a seat, Taehyung pulls a wooden stick from his robes. You watch his lips as he murmurs and moves it slowly in a pattern. Letting out a gasp, you can only sit frozen as a pitcher of water floats through the air on its way to you, a bamboo cup not too far behind. Even as the Wizard turns to forage through his various jars and bottles, the pitcher continues moving, tipping some of its contents into the cup before coming to rest casually at the center of the table. You stare, eyes round as saucers, much too afraid to move. The pitcher hops three times when you make no move to accept its offering, pulling you from your stupor. You reach out a trembling hand. Taking the cup, you bring it to your lips, your eyes hesitant to leave that of the pitcher for fear of it attacking you.
The Wizard returns moments later, coming between you and the magical pitcher. His arms are full of various ingredients and containers. Lying them on the table, he leaves again, only to return with a mortar and pestle in one hand and an iron pot in the other. While he leaves the mortar and pestle near himself, he sets the small cauldron in the center of the table and then looks at you with a dazzling smile.
“More water?” he hums.
Gulping audibly, you shake your head, “Nay, thank you.”
With a flick of the wrist, the pitcher and cup float away and out of the room.
Sitting down, he reaches out toward you, saying, “Hand, please.”
You place your palm onto his palm, and then he sets his other hand atop yours. His eyes close, his lips moving as hushed words spill from between them. There is warmth gathering around your hand the longer he holds it, a heaviness pushing down on your shoulders, and you fight the urge to pull free from his grasp.
Eyes opening up, Taehyung simply says, “Ok.”
“Okay?” you parrot.
Okay, what? You wonder as you settle, confused eyes on him.
“I have gathered some of your energy, your intentions, let's call it,” he explains. Then, hovering over the pot, he brushes one hand over the other and repeats it with the other as if he is wringing off water from them. “This essence will be mixed with the ingredients I add.”
“Oh.”
You settle back in your chair, watching him intently as he adds various dry herbs and powders into the mortar. Once satisfied, the Wizard mashes and grinds all the ingredients with the pestle before dropping the finely ground mixture into the pot. Afterward, he uncorks three bottles of varying colors and pours some into the pot as well. Stirring everything together, he then adds two spoonfuls of honey before scooping it all and adding it into a blue bottle.
The Wizard Taehyung hands you the bottle. “It’s done. You have two doses here in case there is an issue the first time.”
“Thank you,” you bow, accepting the bottle. “May I trouble you for one more?” He cocks a brow at you, and you feel your cheeks flush. “Uh, the boy. An elixir or potion to make him human size again.”
That arched brow grows ever higher, and you feel yourself grow smaller.
“Are you certain he was ever human?” he counters.
“He has no wings, and he very much looks like you and me, just very, very small,” you wonder, now suddenly feeling uncertain.
“I can make such a potion,” he finally replies after staring at you contemplatively, a coy smile on his lips.
“You can?” You beam. “Please. I can pay.”
You produce several coins and drop them on the wooden table. Taehyung accepts them and does not hesitate to leave with the pot to clean it. He places it at the center of the table before returning to his apothecary. It’s not long before he’s back with an amber vial this time. Holding it between his fingers, he brings it up, the liquid inside sloshing ever slightly as he presents it to you.
“Rub a small amount on your lips,” he begins. “Then he must drink the remainder. Be sure it is every last drop. Understood?”
“Aye,” you nod.
“Last, a kiss to seal in the spell.”
“A…a kiss?” you swallow thickly, your fingers touching your lips at the scandalizing thought of committing such an act out of wedlock.
“Aye. And it is of utmost importance that it is fulfilled, or he will return to his miniature stature within six hours time.”
Face a flush with warmth, you assure, “I will be sure all steps are completed.”
“Here you go.”
You take the small vial and tuck it into your skirts along with the bottle.
“A million times thank you,” you bow as he escorts you outside.
He merely nods, closing the door once you have crossed the threshold. What a strange person, you muse as you start the walk back to the palace.
It is another few days before you finally gather the nerve to execute your plan. When you meet with the Duchess in the tea room for your evening tea, you make sure to arrive before her. After the maid leaves the tray of hot water, tea bags, and dainty crackers, you anxiously pull the bottle the Wizard had given you out of your skirts and pour half of the contents into your aunt's cup, sighing with relief when it comes out clear. You are just pouring the water over the tea bag when she comes in.
“Niece,” she smiles affectionately as she enters, and you feel guilt settle in your stomach.
“Duchess,” you greet her while offering her a deep curtsy as she approaches you.
Your aunt kisses each of your cheeks before settling down with her tea. You grab your own and sit across her, the crackling of the fire filling the momentary silence.
“The nights are ever getting cooler,” she speaks.
“Aye,” you agree as you take a sip of the steaming liquid.
You swallow thickly as you await for her to do the same.
“Soon, the winter balls will begin,” you watch as she drinks daintily from her cup, and you feel your heart quicken. “I shall have your measurements taken and dresses made.”
“Oh, you do not need to go to the trouble of-”
“Hush now,” she tsks, taking another swallow. “This will be a perfect time as any to have your coming out. Not that your uncle and I are trying to rid ourselves of you,” she assures.
“Fret not,” you chuckle nervously. “I think no such thing and am grateful for all you have done since taking me in.”
The Duchess smiles, impressed by your words, and leans over to pick up a cracker.
“Oh,” she murmurs, closing her eyes.
Is it possible for the potion to be working so quickly? She had only taken a small sip or two.
The blood rushing through your body pounds much too loudly in your ears and your voice sounds muffled to you as you query, “Is everything a’right?”
She laughs dismissively, “Yes, dear.”
The Duchess munches pensively on the cracker before washing it down with a dredge of tea. Sweat beads at your upper lip, and you promptly set your tea cup down as the china begins to clatter against the saucer, your traitorous hands refusing to be still. Unsure of how long it would take for the full effects to take over, you try to bring the conversation back.
“Have you already received invitations for any balls?”
You hope your voice sounds steady, hope she does not conclude that it is you that has tricked her.
“I …well…I do…” Her words are slightly slurred, and she shakes her head as if trying to clear the fog forming there. “Niece, I must excuse myself. I am unsure what has come over me. I do apologize.”
“There is no need to apologize.”
The Duchess stands, and you do the same.
“Good night, dear,” she mumbles, and you curtsy as she exits the room.
Sighing heavily, you leave to your room, taking the time to locate your warmest cloak. As your aunt had mentioned, the nights had started to become cooler. Restlessly you pace your room, running over the plan to be sure you have everything covered.
First, you would head into your aunt’s chambers. By then, she would be deep in slumber, and you could remove the key from her neck. Then you would unlock the cage and have Seokjin jump into your satchel. Lastly, you would make your way to the back, sneaking past the gardens and into the woods.
It sounded simple yet terrifying at the same time.
You glance out of the window, finding the yard empty just as the clock tolled the eleventh hour. Sucking in a deep breath, you open your room door. By now, the majority of the staff that took care of the palace would be in the servants' quarters, beginning their rest before they had to rise bright and early the next morn. You took the same path you had already memorized straight to your aunt's chambers. Just like the various nights you had gone there, no one shows up to stop you.
Reaching her door, you pause a moment to listen. Complete silence. This was it. Without further hesitation, you turn the knob. The door is quiet as you push it open. Inside the room, you are grateful to see there is a single candle burning softly at the Duchess’ bedside.
You glance around the room, and your breath catches as your eyes land on the golden cage not too far from the bed. The little being had grown and was no longer the scraggly thin, shaggy-haired boy you remembered. In his place stood a young man with a face that was undoubtedly kissed by the gods; it was that handsome to gaze upon. The orange-hued locks atop his head were now neatly combed, providing the perfect frame for that celestial face.
“Jin,” you breathe, all other words having dissolved on your tongue.
He grips the bars tightly as he tilts his head back slightly to gaze upon you better.
“Y/N?” he queries softly. You nod vigorously. “I feared you had forgotten about me years ago.”
“Nay,” you draw closer. “There is no time for chatter now. Let me get the key.”
“But-” Jin sputters in disbelief, and you place a finger on your lips before turning around.
Your aunt’s soft snores greet you as you lean over her. Holding your breath, you reach for the thin chain around her neck. Searching for the clasp, you are able to release the breath when you find it, and the key easily falls onto your hand. The Duchess never even moves during the entire process, and you throw up a prayer of thanks.
Wasting no time, you unlock the cage and hold open your satchel.
“Come,” you urge Jin towards you. “I think it is better if you are in here.”
“Where are we going?”
“Out to the forest,” you shrug. “I will change you, and then we can search for your family. Remember? That’s what I promised to do.”
Jin frowns, “I remember, but-”
“We do not have time at this moment,” you interrupt him again. “We must make haste as I am uncertain as to how long the sleeping potion will keep my aunt in slumber.”
“Right then.”
With that, he clambers into the satchel, and you leave the room, closing the door quietly. On you walk, your heart pounding a furious thrum behind your ribs as you reach the outside. Everything looks vastly different at night than in the glow of the sun. The torches illuminating the path to the gardens offer a sense of security, and you follow them as you get further and further from the palace. No one stops you, and when you reach the garden maze, you snatch up the last torch and meander around the outside of the maze until you are finally in the cover of the trees. Breathing a sigh of relief, you continue to walk until you feel you are far enough away.
“I think it safe to stop and do the spell or ritual or whatnot before we continue on,” you pause as you look down at Jin.
“Ok,” he meets your gaze. “What do we have to do?”
You feel yourself flush, and you turn to busy yourself with sticking the torch into the cool dirt of the thick forest.
“Well, uhm…” you start. “I am to apply some of the liquid to my lips; then you are to drink it all….”
You trail off, finding it difficult to relay the last bit of the ritual.
“Sounds easy enough,” Jin grins. “I dare say it will probably be better if I am on the ground for that second part.”
“Oh, uh, aye,” you agree. “But there is just one more step….”
“Another step?” he asks as you kneel in order to bring the satchel to the ground.
He steps out and looks up at you expectantly.
“The wizard stressed that we must kiss for the potion to work fully. If not, you will return to your small stature within a few hours.”
“A kiss?” Jin presses his lips together as if trying to hide an amused smile.
“Aye.”
Jin pats your knee reassuringly, “Worry not. We are out in the middle of the woods. If it is your reputation you are in fear for, I do not think anyone, but you and I will ever know.”
Sighing, you nod, “You are right.”
It was not the only thing that worried you. This would be your first kiss, and you never imagined it would occur in such a manner. Pulling the vile from the bag, you pop off the cork and cover the opening with your index finger. A murky green liquid coats the pad of your finger, and you rub it onto your bottom lip, repeating the application to your upper lip. You help Jin hold the vile as he begins to drink. Within minutes the glass tube is empty, and Jin frowns, his olive green lips making the gesture a bit comical.
“I fear; I forgot to ask how long it-”
A loud gasp from Jin has you falling back onto your bottom. He groans, his arms wrapping around his abdomen.
“Ahh!” he growls, his head falling back in agony.
You can only watch in awe and horror as the little being commences to grow and grow and grow before your eyes. His clothing does not follow the same process, and you watch as the seems rip and his shoes tear as his toes popped through. Seokjin grits his teeth, trying to keep quiet as his stature becomes taller than you within minutes.
Crumpling to the cold earth, Jin shakes and trembles as he curls into a ball, his tattered clothes doing nothing to cover the lean muscle of his torso. His broad shoulders and immense span of his back glisten with sweat, and his strong legs twitch as his toes flex. Rising swiftly, you remove your cloak and place it over him, wanting to provide him some privacy as well as protection from the frigid night air.
“Jin?” you whisper, and your breath puffs white as it drifts off on the soft breeze.
“I am fine,” he says through chattering teeth. “Please, help me up.”
Using one hand to pinch the cloak closed around him, you assist him in standing on his feet. Jin is a sight to see. As a small creature, he had been incredibly attractive, pretty almost. But now, as he towers over you, you feel intimidated by how handsome he really is, even with his nakedness tucked into the warmth of your mantle.
“I should have brought garments for you….” you wince apologetically, casting your eyes to the ground.
He lets out a chuff of amusement.
“It would have been nice,” he admits. “But you knew naught this would occur.”
“Did not even cross my mind,” you admit with a shake of your head. “So… should we, you know, finish this?”
The corners of his plush lips tilt up just as you shift your gaze to his face.
“Let’s,” he steps closer to you. “But first, I want to know why you came back for me after all this time. You could have just left me there, in that cage, to live my life only to sing whenever your aunt ordered me to.”
“I made a promise,” you shrug. “I am deeply sorry it took me this long to fulfill it. I truly had thought I could release you that same day when I was just a child. I never did forget you and vowed I would come for you no matter how long it would take me.”
“Thank you,” he smiles, his eyes glistening. Leaning ever closer, his lips are but a breath away as he whispers words in a tongue you are unfamiliar with.
“What?”
“Forgive me,” he voices much louder.
Regret replaces the softness in his eyes. Before you can react and question his words, his lips press against yours, and you inhale sharply. It is a tender kiss that has your brain turning to mush and your knees to jelly. You feel the push of magic, the warmth of it tingling across your mouth as Jin pulls away a few beats later. His hands grasp your upper arms, holding you up as you feel yourself grow numb. You briefly take note that his lips are no longer tinged green, but then panic washes over you as you try to move and find you cannot.
Footsteps over long-since dead leaves brings your attention to the right. Your eyes shift towards the sound, and you wonder why they can still move when nothing else will. The sight of the person emerging from the darkness has you confused but elated at the same time. You try to tell him with your eyes that you need help. That something went wrong with the spell.
Jin sets you down gently against a tree, and you watch in confusion as the Wizard Taehyung tosses Jin a bag. He catches it easily and begins to pull clothing and shoes from within it. Realization starts to dawn on you, and you cannot even scream out your rage at the betrayal.
“Y/N, such a gullible girl,” the Wizard tsks. “I have waited so long for someone like you. You almost tempted me when you came to see me.” Squatting down in front of you, you glare at him as he speaks. “I could have taken your essence then. Gods, that small taste I got almost broke me, but I needed you to perform this last selfless act. Do you know why, Y/N?”
You cannot answer, but he knows this. Jin appears behind him, fully dressed now.
“Are we ready?” Jin asks his tone hard.
Taehyung glares over his shoulders, “Not yet.” Turning his attention back to you, he continues. “You are filled with such pureness. Your selfless act for Seokjin enhanced your essence; it purified it even more. This essence will add so many more years to us and keep us young for quite some time. Do you know how old I am, Y/N? No? Well, you are looking at someone who is over seven hundred years old.”
Your eyes widen in disbelief.
“That’s right,” the Wizard Taehyung grins. The face you had once thought so beautiful now looks terrifying. The gems on his face that sparkle with the light from the torch does nothing to brighten the dark, menacing eyes that pin you to your spot. “People like you are what keep me alive and thriving. Jin is my way in. My bait, if you will. He really is so hard to resist with his divine voice and handsome face. I plan on keeping him for many generations to come.”
Your mind feels overwhelmed by all that is happening. Jin is in on this, too? You could not accept that.
“I had my ways of communicating with him even from the Duchess’ chambers. I waited, biding my time for the day that someone as special as you would come. He told me about you, you know? How he felt this spark the day you met. I knew at that moment I had to have you. Do you know why you are so special?” Taehyung leans forward, clutching your chin roughly in his hand. “Because despite all the tragedies that have befallen you, you still carry only love in that wretched heart of yours. That is what holds the magic longer within me. Now, just sit back and relax.”
You can do nothing as he releases your chin only to clasp your hand between his. Eyes closed, he begins to murmur words in the same language Jin had spoken earlier. Almost instantly, you can feel the warmth of magic as he begins to siphon your energy. You look up at Jin, pleading and begging even as you can’t move.
Finding no help there, you look down to see your arms aging before your eyes. What was happening?!
Jin’s hand lands firmly on Taehyung’s shoulder, and he quiets.
“Is it truly crucial to kill her?”
Taehyung laughs, “Oh, Jinnie, Jinnie.” His eyes rake over you before he yanks you towards him, his face hardening. “Seems you are in luck today, dearie. Guess I am not as much in the killing mood this night as I thought.” The Wizard Taehyung releases you, letting you roughly fall back against the tree as he stands. Grabbing Jin’s wrists, Taehyung begins to chant, and you know he is giving Jin some of your essence as well. Once finished, he dusts his robes, commanding, “Now let’s go.”
The Wizard walks away toward where he had initially appeared. Jin takes the cloak you had covered him in earlier, and he tucks it in around you.
“The spell will wear off in a few hours,” he tells you. “I truly am sorry. I wanted it to be different this time… ”
“Seokjin!” you both hear the impatient bark of Taehyung.
Cupping your now wrinkled and weathered cheek, Jin drops a kiss on the top of your head before standing. You observe him follow behind the Wizard. As you watch him disappear, a burning tear slips down your cheek, and you make a new vow. This time you vow to find Taehyung and kill him.
premise: a joint interview with your group, BTS, and TXT two months after you met your soulmate.
word count: 2k
[2/2] continuation of Can’t Keep My Hands To Myself
requested by anon - a picture of your request will be at the bottom of the post!
------------------------------------------
“Please don’t tell them.”
“Me? Why would I say anything?”
“You...you have that look.”
Yeonjun whirls around to face Taehyung, who just entered the room. “Do I have a look?”
Taehyung winks at you in greeting, something that nearly makes you swoon and your group members snicker.
“A look?” He frowns for a moment before giving his dongsaeng a pitiful smile. “Oh yeah, you do. Definitely.” Taehyung smiles at Jiwoo, my band member who is busy sending death glares at her soulmate. “He’s gonna spill it.”
Yeonjun jumps up from his seat at the same time Taehyung settles down beside you, placing his arm on the back of the couch and brushing your hair off to the side. It’s enough to make goosebumps rise on your skin, which of course he notices.
Oh, how you’d like to wipe that knowing little smirk off his face right now.
“I can’t believe this! I’m not going to say a thing-”
“Yeonjun, and I’m saying this with love, if you say a single thing about it, I will personally unplug your refrigerator when you least expect it.”
Your attention is pulled away when you feel Taehyung leaning in to whisper something in your ear. “So, do we know what they’re arguing about?”
You can’t help but giggle. “Nope. Jiwoo won’t say anything.”
“Neither will Yeonjun.”
The smitten couple have been teasingly arguing for the entirety of the morning, leaving the rest of us in complete and utter confusion.
Oh well, I suppose it’ll help make the broadcast a bit more exciting.
It’s been two months since Jiwoo and I first *ahem* teleported to our soulmates at the MAMA awards. Or rather, since I landed in Taehyung’s lap and Jiwoo was nearly knocked unconscious when Yeonjun was thrown into her at full force. Of course, Jiwoo claims that it was horribly embarrassing, to which I’m always quick to say that she should feel lucky that at least she didn’t end up in a grown man’s lap. For all to see, no less.
Ari, our other group member, just rolls her eyes and tells us that beggars can’t be choosers.
Yeah, whatever that means.
The past two months have been busy, with hardly enough time to spend with my soulmate. Between the busy schedules and BTS and TXT and our own schedule, we’ve had to settle for late-night FaceTimes and the occasional lunch at the Bighit building. I’ve become really good at sneaking in and out of that building in broad daylight - so far I have yet to be discovered.
Today, however, is an important one. It’s our first official schedule together as soulmates. Naturally, all three groups have come together for the interview/variety show.
“Alright, time to head on!” A manager shouts into the room, and suddenly there’s a flurry of movement as we all head toward the door. “I need all the soulmates to stick to their own groups, ok? We don’t want to be causing a riot today.”
Right. With a gloomy expression, Taehyung parts from me to head back to his members. Jiwoo and I glue ourselves to Ari’s side, much to her chagrin. “Ready?”
Both you and Jiwoo respond simultaneously. “Nope.”
Ari just sighs, feigning annoyance. Together, the three of you await your cue as one by one, your groups are introduced.
TXT goes first, the hosts making a big deal out of swooning over Soobin who now has a cult of his own due to his MC abilities. They make a show of handing the microphone over to him, begging him to take it over from there. He politely declines, while the rest of the boys bicker and chat in the background.
Then your group is called out, and you find yourself walking out before a huge crowd. You didn’t realize that many people could fit in this building, but here they are. And all of them are here for the same reason: to get a look at the soulmate couples that have newly formed.
And that have been trending on Twitter and Tumblr for two solid months, breaking all kinds of records.
As BTS is introduced with an almost reverent tone, you understand why you’ve been trending for so long.
It has a lot to do with one of the men walking out right now, smiling at the crowd and waving, graciously bowing his way across the stage.
Taehyung wears a gray casual suit which has him looking like he just stepped off a photoshoot. Hair perfectly styled and eyes glowing with adoration for the fans that roar and wave, he commands the entire room with a single raise of his eyebrows.
Your soulmate, ladies and gentlemen.
Today is the day where you prove to the rest of the world how much of a perfect match you are for this man. The notion is terrifying.
“Wow!” The host, a jovial man named Donghyun shouts out, exaggerating how amazed he is by the crowd’s reaction to all three groups sharing the same stage. Indeed, it’s a rare sight. “Ok! Should we get started?”
After a few minutes of more introductions, a few cursory questions (he asks Yeonjun what he’s been up to recently and you’re pretty sure Jiwoo manages to telepathically threaten him, because he chooses the most vague answer imaginable), and instructions on how to begin the next activities, you’re off to the races.
Painting races, that it.
Donning a frock and eyeing the empty canvas before you, you glare at your opponent across the way. Taehyung, to his credit, refrains from winking at you. He thinks you’re adorable when you’re flustered, but now’s not the time.
“Taehyung-ssi!”
Taehyung blinks up at Donghyun. “Yes?”
“Are you going to let your soulmate win?”
The game is simple: paint the listed object with as much detail as possible in a sixty second period. The others will have to guess what it is.
Taehyung pouts his lips a bit, glancing over at you with a glint in his eye. “I’ll have to see, I think.”
Donghyun chuckles into the mic, turning to face you. “What about you? If Taehyung-ssi falls behind, will you help him win?”
You wiggle your eyebrows at your soulmate, heart soaring when he delivers a boxy grin. “Oh, of course not. I came to compete, not hold hands.”
The crowd bursts out laughing, and someone yells out, “I’ll hold his hand for you!”
You all dissolve into a fit of laughter at that, your cheeks blushing madly. “Yeah, thanks for the offer,” you say between giggles. Readying your paint brush, you wait for the signal.
You’ve been given the word ‘Iceland’, which you figure shouldn’t be too hard.
What you failed to account for was the fact that you’re perhaps the worst painter you know. What should look like a globe looks like a basketball and what should be a cube of ice instead looks like nothing more than a cardboard box.
In the end, you’re pretty sure you laugh more than you paint. Your team members, consisting of a mix from both teams, look utterly confused at the end product. Eventually it’s Jin - who happens to be on Taehyung’s team - that accidentally calls out the answer.
The rest of the games pass by in a blur of laughter and covert glances toward Taehyung. He always manages to find a way to make you laugh, even though he remains on the other side of the stage for the most part. You don’t miss all of the fans that look at him dreamily, and you can only hope that they’re happy with your overall performance today.
At the end, you all squeeze onto a couple of couches. Donghyun makes a fuss over allowing the soulmates to sit together, and you can’t hide your smile as a beet-red Yeonjun sidles down to the couch to sit beside Jiwoo, placing his hands in his lap and trying not to do anything that will go viral.
Taehyung sits on your right, crossing his arms in a way that pulls on his suit jacket enough to expose the outline of his biceps. You catch your eyes wandering, snapping your attention back to the front where Donghyun reads some questions off of a card.
“I believe that this was the first time soulmates have met while performing at MAMA, is that correct? What were your first thoughts when you suddenly found yourselves face to face with your soulmate?”
The four of you that now have all the attention riding on your shoulders look to each other for help. Finally, with a racing heart, you answer first.
“I think the obvious answer is that I was shocked,” you smile as knowing chuckles ripple through the room. “But I was also really grateful, because Taehyung was so kind and understanding. The staff were very professional and helped us quickly. Overall, I really can’t imagine it having happened in any other way.”
There’s a few ooh’s and aww’s that greet your ears, but you look down at your lap as you blush. Taehyung slightly nudges your knee with his own, and in that simple movement you feel the comfort that he’s trying to give you.
“I’d actually been talking to Jiminie earlier about soulmates,” Taehyung pipes up.
“Oh, yeah! That’s right!” Jimin says, giving his friend a slap on the shoulder. “What are the odds?”
Taehyung flashes a shy smile. “I told him that I felt like I was ready. It can be strangely lonely sometimes, and there are times when I just felt like I was missing something. Now, all I have to do is pick up my phone and my missing piece is on the other side, ready to talk with me.”
Now people are really swooning, you included. You dare to peek over at your soulmate, heart nearly melting when you see that his shy smile is paired with pink cheeks. You wish that you could snuggle up to him right now, but that would definitely not end well. Instead, you lightly nudge his knee with your own, returning the little slice of comfort he provided you earlier.
“And you two?” Dongyun asks after wiping fake tears away from his eyes.
Yeonjun chews on his bottom lip, Jiwoo too lost in thought to notice that he has that look again.
“I, er...” Yeonjun begins, squirming a little in his seat. “I was...really happy.”
Donghyun urges Yeonjun to continue. “Of course you were! What about finding Jiwoo made you so happy?”
Jiwoo looks up in horror, but it’s too late. Yeonjun has already opened his mouth and begun to speak.
“I was so happy because the first thing she said to me was that she thought I was so hot.”
Radio silence.
And then-
“Oh-ho!! Yeonjunnie you’re so dead!” Hueningkai laughs, and soon everyone follows suit. Even Donghyun has to throw his hand over his mouth to keep himself from snorting with laughter.
Jiwoo looks at Yeonjun, who completely avoids her gaze as he stares unblinking at the floor. Then, quietly enough for nobody to hear except for you who sits beside her, she whispers, “Say goodbye to all the perishable items in your fridge.”
In the chaos that ensues, Taehyung discreetly traces circles against your arm and mumbles, “Why didn’t you say that to me when we first met?”
You smack his shoulder. “I should be asking you the same thing!”
Just before everything calms down again, Taehyung leans over to grab the abandoned canvas on the ground. Taking the still-wet paint and dipping his finger into it, he draws something out on it. Nudging you to get your attention, he flashes the canvas for you to see, hiding it from the cameras.
It’s hard to keep a neutral expression as you see his handiwork. It’s just six words, but they’re enough to have your entire face flushed a moment later.
I think you’re hotter than Yeonjun ;)
Stifling a laugh, you roll your eyes. “I hope you know I’m keeping that,” you mumble. Taehyung grins.
“Great. We’ll get it framed.”
A few days later, you do. It hangs in the front room of your apartment, for all to see. And for Jiwoo to loathe, as it serves as a constant reminder of her embarrassing first words to her soulmate.
Oh well. In the words of Ari, “Beggars can’t be choosers.”
Taehyung/Reader | Angst, Slow Burn, Royal!AU | Prince!Taehyung x Princess!Reader
Word Count: 12.4K
Summary: You always knew that you were viewed nothing more than an asset when it came to the heart of men. The luxury of meeting someone who saw you for you almost didn’t exist. It just took your whole life being ripped apart to find yourself lucky enough to come across one.
Warnings: Language | Violence | Blood | Imprisonment | Mentions of Death | Non-Main-Character Deaths | Taehyung Risking It For The Biscuit |
AN: This took me forever but thank you guys for sticking with me and waiting for it! I have so many ideas and just not enough time! Keep your eye out for the others I have coming.
Tonight, like many other nights, you sat at the main area with your father. Your eyes wandered the crowd gracing the ball floor. It was a mess of gowns and bodies spinning and turning to the time of the music. It was the same thing every time one of these was hosted. You watched as the nobles enjoyed themselves and drank until there was no care left for them in this world.
If you looked closer within the mass of fabric swirling in front of you, you can see the smiling faces of the ladies as they were enthralled with the idea that the handsome men spinning them on the floor wanted to dance with them. Every one of the couples synchronized with not only the music but with the others as well. All weaving around each other with ease.
This event, like the others, was only for the nobles and other royalties to butter up to your father and win his good graces. They wanted that slim chance to marry you, for that matter. If they win you, they win the crown and unite their kingdom with yours.
Your eyes landed on a man, whom you recognized as one for the princes from the neighboring kingdom. You had only met him once before in passing, but you had to be good with faces. He was making his way through the crowd of people, in the direction of where you sat. Once in front of you, he bowed to both you and your father.
“May I ask the fine lady to dance?” He asked, offering his hand out to you, though you weren’t entirely sure if he was asking you or your father.
A curt nod from your father made your decision for you. You stood, returning his bow with your own, “I would be honored.”
Taking his hand with your own, he led the way onto the floor. Turning you in his direction, he placed his other hand on your waist. Soon, both of you were in sync with the others letting the music guide your movements.
In the many years you had been alive and the many dances you had to endure, you realized no one liked to actually talk. You were nothing to these men who ask for your hand and drag you around the floor. To them, you were a transaction. You were just one step of a bigger picture. Nothing more than an item looking to be sold to the highest bidder.
You didn’t blame your father. He didn’t like doing this to you. It was just how it had to be.
So, you stayed quiet keeping his eye contact as he led you around the floor. You felt many eyes on you as you two spun throughout the crowd, not needing to look to confirm whether they were really. Your movement was always watched whether it be from your people or the lady-in-waiting who does your bidding whenever you call. You held the smile on your face so the eyes watching would think you were having a wonderful time, and maybe if you smiled enough you could will the idea into existence.
Oh, how you wished it were willed into existence.
A large bang was heard loud enough to be heard over the sound of music and the chatter of socializing. You stumbled as the man directing you halted with no warning. The music slowly dwindled to nothing as each person playing grew curious of the sound. The sound of people talking and whispering amplified by the newfound silence.
Another loud bang.
This time, you felt your heart rate raise a little as you watched as your father motioned to a knight near him and spoke to him as few knights slipped out of the many doors in the room. The man next to you seeming more alert than before though you were more preoccupied with the look in your father’s eyes. He looked put together but his eyes held the one thing you never thought you’d see in them. Fear.
A third one.
With the sound of that one, the room fell into chaos. The doors flung open, splinters and chunks of wood scattering into the air from the brute force of the entry. Unknown figures entered through the destruction armed and ready to attack any and all.
You watched as the men that were attending the ball unsheathed their weapons and jumped into the mess of intruders to help the many knights who have been overwhelmed. The man whom you had been dancing with had left you alone amongst the scared guests.
The whole room was filled with the clanking of metal and yelling, but it was drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat as your adrenaline took over. You realized you were in the open and maneuvered your way toward one of the many columns scatter throughout the room. Once behind it and in cover, you let out a shaky breath you had no idea you had been holding.
You peaked around the pillar; your eyes scanned the room for your father. You noticed him on his feet, fighting against some man who you assumed had entered with the intruders. Deciding to try to make it to him, you searched the rest of the room.
Your eyes only met destruction and bodies; some being the enemy and some your own people. Your eyes even found the image of a small child crying into the chest of his mother who laid on the floor covered in her own blood and unmoving. You leaned your head back against the pillar trying to erase the image to no avail.
With an uneasy breath, you started to head toward your father. You eyed the hand of a dead body as you moved through the chaos, grabbing the dagger from his lifeless fingertips. Once in hand you grasped the hilt, not noticing your knuckles turning a shade of white from the amount of force you gripped it with.
You took a step backwards to avoid a scuffle that was coming from your left, causing you to trip over some debris. You kicked yourself back against the wall as you tried to avoid being the next person lying on the ground in a pool of their own blood. The knight fought against the other man, neither aware you were even there.
You stood back up looking for your father once again. You found him mid fight with the same intruder as before. Closer now, he noticed you were still in the room. He locked eyes with you, which seemed to be all the distraction the other man needed. The blade was shoved dead in the middle of the king’s chest and his eyes grew wide and he grasped at the sword. Once out of his chest, your father fell to his knees and then to the ground.
Your whole world shifted as you felt the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision. Amongst the terrified screams and fighting, your own gut-wrenching scream could barely be heard. Instead of falling to your own knees like you wished you could, you fought against the feeling of your lungs collapsing as you gasped for air; having it knocked out of you from the metaphorical blow.
You started to make your way toward his body when multiple of the heavily armor-clad trespassers noticed you. You couldn’t hear what the one yelled over your still coursing heartbreak, but they started moving in on you. That’s when you took one final look at your father and ran.
You hopped over the heaps of bodies that now scattered the room and ran out one of the broken doors, barely avoiding the swing of a blade that ran astray from a battle you pasted by. Once out of the main room, you found the fight was still going on in the halls as well.
You desperately looked for a way to escape. Deciding the left was arguably safer, you hurried down the corridor. You rounded the corner, knowing there was a passage a few halls further that exited out into the garden where you could hopefully find shelter. You felt two hands grab you and you weren’t entirely sure if he had come from in front of you or behind. Pinned to the wall, you tried fighting him off. You shook your arm free and, with dagger still in hand, you thrusted it between his helmet and chest plate. His eyes grew wide as he released you, choking on his own blood.
You stood frozen, eyes looking between the man now on the floor gasping for air and your own hand now soaked in red. Just as quick as you froze, you were brought back into reality. You switched the blade into your other hand as you wiped the blood off your hand onto your dress which had already been ruined.
It felt like hours before you made it to the passage that lead outside but, it had only been mere minutes. Opening the door, you sucked in a breath of fresh air; something you felt you had been deprived of for too long. You leaned against the now closed door. The newfound silence only broken by your staggered breathing and the sound of your kingdom aflame in the distance.
You heard a conversation in the distance, it not being loud enough to understand. You hoped the dark of night would conceal you from those who you didn’t want to see you. Your breath hitched as you heard the voices come nearer. You had gotten so far, and it wouldn’t mean anything if you were caught. You decided to risk it.
You ran for the hedges, hearing the men now hurrying toward you. You were almost to shelter. Almost. But your foot landed on an uneven patch of ground, causing your ankle to twist and you to tumble down to the ground. On impact, the dagger flew from your hand. You searched the ground for it, but it was too late.
You felt your heart leave your chest as two men grabbed your arms pulling you up from the ground. Kicking, you tried fighting against them, but their strength was too much for you. You didn’t give up, even if it was a useless task.
You were pulled back into the building, which was oddly quiet. It only confirmed the worst, that your kingdom had now fallen. You assumed whoever wasn’t dead was taken as prisoner. The halls became familiar as they tracked back the way you came to the grand chamber.
Once there, your eyes landed on the mass of bodies being moved into a pile at the end of the room. Then they found your own father’s. He was surrounded by a few men, one obviously the king of the intruders and the other, you could only see the back of.
“Your majesty, we found her fleeing. If I’m not mistaken, this is indeed the princess.” One of the men holding you hostage announced.
but to disgrace your father and irritate you. Angered, you demanded they let you go and continued to do so, hoping annoying the poor men would work.
“What would you like us to do with her, sir?” The other asked.
“Shut her up, will you?” He asked, exhaustion dripping from his voice.
You saw the man next to you raise the hilt of his sword and swing it down at you. You couldn’t say what happened next because you in fact had no idea because your whole world went black.
When you woke, you expected to be laying in your bed under your duvet. The hard surface you found yourself laying on was not your bed and it was a rough reminder of the events that took place before you were knocked unconscious.
You opened your eyes being met with the sight of the dirt floor. Pushing yourself up off the ground, you groaned as the pain in your head increased with the new position you now sat in. Your dress was dirty and ripped around the bottom. You weren’t sure if it happened while you were running or when they dragged your unconscious body to where it is now. You noticed the blood you wiped off your hands had darkened as it dried into the fabric of the skirt.
Slightly disoriented, you looked around trying to focus on anything other than your ruined dress and the pounding of your head. You made out an old wooden bench that probably would fall apart if too much pressure was put onto it. Above that, a small window. There was barely any light flowing through but enough for you to determine that it was early morning. Turning your head the other way, your eyes focused on the metal barring you within the small room.
You pulled yourself onto your feet only to trip from the rush of pressure that went to your head. You gripped the bench and pulled yourself onto it hoping that it wouldn’t buckle from the weight. Once sitting on it you leaned your head against the wall and closed your eyes. Your vision still blurring in and out whenever you concentrated to hard on something, you hoped closing them would relieve some pain.
Your mind flashed back to your last conscious memory. The image of your father on the floor and the man standing over him looking at him like he was just some pest that finally got what was coming to him. And then, you were locked away in your own dungeon. You had never really ventured to the castles personal prison on your own accord, so you had no idea what it looked like until now. The only confirmation that you were still within the walls of your home was the residual smell of smoke from the town that was burning the night before.
Tears ran down your cheeks as you let your body fall sideway until you laid on the bench. You didn’t even try to hide your cries, for no one was around to hear you. The impact of your world exploding seeming to be too much to handle and the only thing your mind knew to do was send droplets out of your eyes and sobs from your chest. The only sound to comfort you being the echo of your own cries in the empty dungeon.
What you noticed while you were in your own personal hell that time seemed to blend together. You seemed to wake and sleep whenever your body wanted you to. The only indication of time you had was the little bit of outside you saw through the window. Even then, you weren’t sure exactly how long you’d been locked up. If you had to guess, you would say you were there for maybe a week at the most. The only interaction you had with anyone was limited to the guards bringing you food. Other than that, it was just you alone with your thoughts.
It gave you time to grieve the loss of your life and what you had always known. You spent the first few days crying, having the only words of wisdom being the guards telling you to shut it whenever they decided it seemed fit to feed you. You cried less, though you felt like the hole in your chest would never be filled. You had never gotten to say goodbye and that broke open healing wounds whenever the thought crossed your mind.
You were sitting, staring at the bars from the bench when you heard someone entering the area. You perked up, confused. This was too close to the last time you were fed; it didn’t seem right.
You watched as a figure found its way in front of your cell. From what you observed, he had no idea you sat a mere few feet away. The lantern he held in his hand lighting what the small window of your cell didn’t reach. The back of him looking oddly familiar, but you knew you had no clue who this was or why they were amongst the prisoners of the castle.
You stood, curious of the man. You studied him as he searched the area, finding an old wooden chair. He kicked it into the corner farthest from the cells before setting the lantern town next to it. He proceeded to then sit in it, resting his hands on his legs. His eyes focused on the ground.
You reached the outer wall of your enclosure, lacing your hand through one of the bars as you peered through it in his direction. He seemed almost as if he was overwhelmed or tired; maybe both.
“You seem down,” You croak out, surprised your voice didn’t fail you. You didn’t think it would fail you because you were afraid but because of its lack of use.
His head slowly lifted, reaching your eyes for the first time since his presence was known. Your breath hitched just from the intensity of his glare. His dark locks fell around his face in waves resting right above his eyes, casting a shadow onto them. His head turned to the side ever so slightly as he examined you from the distance.
“I am,” He spoke; his voice as deep as the glare he still held on you.
For a moment, you let the silence take over. His eyes never broke off of you as his words sunk into your being. It wasn’t much of a reply, but it was a reply. It was more of a response than you’ve gotten within days.
You swallowed trying to wet your throat before speaking again, “I didn’t expect you to respond. No one does.”
His eyes didn’t waver away from you as he took in your words. Another silence set in but now that it had been broken, it seemed so much heavier than before. Part of you wondered what could possibly be going through his mind as he stared so intently in your direction, though you knew better than to ask. So, instead, you waited for a response if there would be one.
“Well, surprise.” He said, leaning back.
He rested his upper half against the back of the wooden chair, his body finding a more relaxed position. Even then, his eyes still held on you. For the first time in days, you wondered what condition you were truly in. You assumed you were full of mud, possibly bloody and bruised. You felt exhausted and you knew your face showed it. Not once did your appearance come to mind, but under his intense stare, it was a passing thought you couldn’t shake.
Still unsure if you had full trust in your voice, you cleared it before hesitantly adding to the very short conversation, “Why are you down?”
He didn’t seem to hear you, or well, he chose not to acknowledge your question because he didn’t attempt to reply. You couldn’t quite blame him for his lack in communication. If the roles had been reversed, and you found yourself on the outside looking in, you probably wouldn’t have even batted an eye in your direction.
You let out a quiet sigh, knowing full well whatever socialization you had been gifted had come to an end. Even so, you were oddly satisfied that someone had given you the time of day. It might have been the bare minimum, but it wasn’t nothing. For that you were grateful.
You pushed yourself off of the bars of the cell, letting your hand drop from the one you were grasping.
“Is that dried blood?”
Shocked from his question, you looked down at where you had wiped the mess that had been on your hands days prior. You had almost forgotten about the stain adhered to the fabric you had been wearing, but without a doubt when you looked back down there it was.
You leaned back forward to look at him through the gaps between the bars. He was still looking in your direction, though his eyes seemed to soften as he waited for a response.
“Yeah,” You let out a shaky breath. Memories of that man pinning you against the wall flooded back to the front of your mind. You felt your w burn as you fought the tears, “Yeah, it’s dried blood.”
Silence fell again, which seemed to be a reoccurring theme within the conversation, though this time you weren’t yearning for it to continue. You looked away from him and blinked, hoping the brimming tears wouldn’t cascade down. It was quiet enough you could make out the sound of faint footsteps getting closer to your own cell. You pushed off the door again, this time actually making it to the only seating within room.
You could tell he too could hear the footsteps. He sighed, standing up from his sitting position. He then gripped the lantern that had been comfortably sitting next to his feet the whole time. Just as he did so, a guard rounded the corner, food in hand. You assumed the food was for you.
A peak out the small window of your cell told you more time had passed that you expected, and that it very may well have been time for them to bring you food.
Taken aback by another figure, the guard halted. The unknown man nodded at him in recognition.
“Ah, we have been searching for you,” The guard announced, “The king is in need of your presence, sir.”
You watched as the gentleness in his eyes he had shown you moments before disappeared, only to be replaced with the same tired look he held when he first sat down in the chair. You felt bad for him even though you were the one imprisoned. You wondered if him wandering the prisoners ward was him escaping whatever thing was wearing him thin.
“I’m always needed,” He sighed but still proceeded to maneuver around the guard before disappearing the way he had come.
The guard shook his head disapprovingly, before sliding the food into the cell with little to no care. He muttered something to himself you couldn’t quit make out from your seat on the bench and then left you on your own.
If you hadn’t lost track of the days before, you had now. It had been a few days, or maybe a week, since you had found yourself in the company of the unknown man. You weren’t entirely sure how long it had truly been because you barely noticed the difference between the warm rays of the day and the soft light of the night.
It was hard to focus with your mind being so numbingly bored. You actually started to look forward to the times they brought you the god-awful slop they fed you. The guards, though not the best conversationalists, still bought a difference into your very dull life. They at least bought something to the table that the dirt floor and the rusted iron bars could never do.
You found yourself mindlessly picking at your fingers. The amount of mud and dirt caking to them had become quite evident and you weren’t exactly fond of the idea. You felt disgusting having been in the same clothes days on end. You had come to the conclusion that you’d be wearing this torn up garment until there was nothing left of it.
You heard the squeaking of a lantern echoing from down the hall. It was late, past the last feeding of the night. The guards should have left you down there to drown in loneliness by now. Your eyes fell on the light making it closer to your cell. Even within the small haze of the lamp, there was no mistaking the eyes of the man approaching. He wore a simple shirt contrasting the more up done one you saw him in the first time. Even late in the night, he looked well put together.
Once in front of your cell, you watched him locate the chair he sat in before. He then proceeded to grab one of the torch sticks, lighting it with the fame of the lantern. He stuck it back on the wall, it lighting not only the hall but the cell you were confined into.
You slowly stood up off your seat, curious as to why he was down here again. Or better yet, you were just curious of who he was. He shot you a passing glance as he then bent back over, grabbing something off the chair. You made your way slowly to the barred off area, peaking through the gaps between them. All you saw was his back and the way his shoulders moved under the fabric concealing them. You felt a wash of familiarity come over you like before, but you would have remembered meeting a face like his.
You quickly adverted your gaze when he turned back around, not wanting to admit you might have been staring at him for a tad too long. He walked forward, hands holding what seemed to me a mass of cloth. He stopped inches in front of the bars, his gaze meeting your eyes. He threaded his arm though the bars, handing you what was in his hands.
“It’s not much,” He paused, releasing it to you, “But I figured it would be better than wearing what you are currently.”
You stood silently, excepting his gift. You were taken slightly aback. You had been attacked, chased, and knocked out. You had been thrown in your own castles dungeon and fed like a dog. You didn’t know what to expect but an act of kindness from anyone wasn’t it.
Hurrying back towards the dimmer end of your cell, you set the clothes down on the bench and examined them. The whiff of clean clothes enticed your senses, making your heart race. It was foolish to be so excited over a clean set of clothes, but you were.
Uncaring to whether you had prying eyes, you began to strip out of your dress. It dropped to the floor, along with all the horrible memories it kept reminding you of. You didn’t care that the white shirt that he gave you was eerily similar to the one he was wearing. You were just glad to be out of the thing now laying in a lump on the floor.
Once in fresh clothes, you walked slowly back to peak through the gaps. He sat in the corner, same position as the first time you saw him; arms resting on his legs and head hanging low. You made the conclusion that most likely didn’t try to steal a glimpse of you changing. You watched him for a moment, not wanting to interrupt his thoughts.
“Thank you,” The words come out as almost a squeak, voice being weakened by the lack of use yet again. He lifted his head, eerily similar to the time before yet no intense glare. His eyes were soft, and you were able to see they were a dark brown when not consumed behind the metaphorical mask he wore. He straightened up, running a hand through his dark locks.
“Wish I could have done more,” He said, voice quiet but the silence of the hall amplifying every word that left his lips.
Your heart panged at the kindness being shown for it was a nice change, but the constant state of fear you had come to know gnawed at you like a gnat.
“But why?” Your voice hoarse but you forced the question anyways.
He hummed to himself for a moment, as if contemplating whether he wanted to give you the answer before looking you in the eyes once more, “I wouldn’t want to be wearing someone else’s blood.”
Silence fell between the two of you as you absorbed his words. Your eyes drifted to the dress in the corner before looking back at him. You didn’t know what his reasoning would be, but you never thought it would have been that. You also didn’t expect him to break the comfortable silence, but he seemed full of surprises since you met him.
“What happened?”
You saw the way his eyes caught the refection of the torch fire as the flames danced within them but behind that you saw what you only could decipher as concern, or guilt.
“I was attacked. I did what I had to.” You spoke, his eyes still trained on you.
He nodded in understanding. He then slowly stood up from the chair and reached for the lantern on the ground grabbing that as well. He started to walk towards where he came but stopped in front of the bars of your cell.
He glanced over, “I hope you’re able to get rest.”
The odds of that happening were slim to none, you both knew that. Still, it was another nice gesture that he in no way needed to do, especially to someone who was imprisoned. You wondered why he seemed to be so kind to you, but maybe he was just that. Just as quick as he turned to look at you, he started to leave all the same.
“Can you at least tell me your name?” You ask but it comes out more as a plea. He halted his movements and turned back to you. You watched him turn to look at you once again, this time you watched as one of the corners of his mouth perked up ever so slightly.
“Taehyung.” Was all he responded before both he and the light had disappeared down the hall.
Part of you, almost all of you, wanted something to grasp onto, even if it was just a name.
Fresh air.
The concept seemed so foreign to you now. You were used to the damp and the musk by now, but your mind traveled to that night where everything went downhill. You remembered the fresh air you had inhaled and the slight smell of roses that had engulfed the night.
So, there you were on the tips of your toes leaning dangerously close to the edge of the bench. Your fingers grasped the edge of the small, barred window of your cell. You had been hoping to possibly get a breath of fresh air from the open window.
Somehow, you had propped yourself up enough to barely see out of it. You were surprised to find that your window was located by the very garden you had been fantasizing about. Honestly, you were surprised at yourself for not trying this sooner. Seeing any color other than the brown walls of the dungeon was welcoming enough.
You felt the suns rays hit your face and you closed your eyes in satisfaction. You felt a cool breeze kiss your face and the smell of roses wafted in your direction. You sighed in content, just happy to feel something from the outside world once again.
“What are you doing?” A deep voice broke the silence you were enjoying, scaring you. Your grip on the ledge failed as you tried not to stumble off the edge of the bench. You fell onto the dirt floor despite your attempts not to.
You sat up slowly and turned to the source of the voice. Your voice dry as you responded, “I miss outside, Taehyung.”
You had grown accustomed to his sporadic visits. Ever since he had bought you a change of clothes, he seemed to show up more often though it was never for long. You noticed that he was not much of a conversationalist, but you believed that to be because he always seemed to have something on his mind distracting him. You could see it in the way his eyes never felt they were in the present moment.
He looked away avoiding your glance, “I’m sorry I interrupted.”
The room grew quiet as you watched him walk towards the seat he had claimed as his own. He seemed a little more dressed up than the past few times he had decided to grace you with his presence. His hair though, still fell across his face in waves of black.
You pulled yourself off the floor and walked towards him, leaning against the metal to look at him better, “You always seem so distracted.”
He looked up from his hands and bit the inside of his cheek. He looked as though whatever was on his mind was on the tip of his tongue and he was biting it right back down. He directed his attention down the hall and away from you and your observation. He obviously having no intentions of responding to your statement.
You dropped to the ground, sitting with your legs crossed, “I didn’t notice that my cell was one of the ones located by the garden. I could smell the flowers when I felt the breeze hit my face. I used to walk the garden with my father before, well...”
You raised your arms, motioning to your cell. Taehyung’s eyes found your eyes once again. You let out a laugh, finding the irony of the situation funny. Here you sat caged away when right outside your window bloomed freedom and life.
His eyebrows raised at your laughter obviously surprised by your outburst. He watched as your smile faded, and your eyes glossed over.
“I miss him,” You sighed, “He wasn’t the best, but he cared.”
“I’m sorry,” He said, and you felt as though he was apologizing for more than just your father’s death.
Your hand traced one of the iron bars in front of you feeling the cool metal under your fingertips. He watched as you did so, finding your ability to be so calm when everything you had known had crumbed to be quite astounding.
“I’m sorry can’t fix what has already happened. I just wish he had gotten a proper burial.” You sighed, looking away from your hand and finding Taehyung’s figure against the wall, “So, why do you hide down here with the prisoners?”
“You’re better company,” He responded, which surprised you. You weren’t expecting him to answer your question because up to this point he had been a master of keeping the focus off him. He always somehow flipped it back onto you and if he couldn’t do that, then he grew silent.
“Me?” You asked not being able to hide the innocent shock that laced your voice, “I’m sorry, but I’m sure there are plenty of people who could keep you in good company that aren’t locked away.”
He chuckled dryly, “You speak to me like I’m real. Up there, it’s scripted. They’re too afraid of what might happen if they said the wrong thing. It’s ‘yes sir’ and ‘anything for you’ but I never hear people’s wants and their feelings. No one wants to have a conversation.”
You felt a wave of familiarity in what he was saying. You felt as if things started to finally make sense for the first time since he began visiting. From the guilty look in his eyes to the kind gestures he had shown. He had felt familiar, but you never knew how until that moment. Your eyes widen at the realization.
“When your father’s the king, you don’t get to just talk.” You replied almost monotoned, knowing too well the way people treated the offspring of royalty even if they were royalty themselves.
His body stiffened at your words. You could tell he wasn’t expecting you to make the connection and it threw him off guard, body going defensive automatically.
“How did you-“ He paused with a loss of words.
“Because that’s how I felt,” You sighed as you remembered the countless nights sitting up hoping someone would truly want to treat you like a human being and not some figure or purchase, “I knew you looked familiar. I- I couldn’t quite place it. I knew I hadn’t met you before. I’d remember a face like yours. I did see you though, standing over my father’s body before I was knocked out.”
“If it were me, none of this would have happened,” He said, gaze falling on your position on the ground.
“You can’t help who your father is,” You reassured not completely sure why you felt the need to, “But, if I were to be frank, your father is a piece of shit.”
For the first time since he had begun coming to your cell to keep you company, you heard him truly laugh. It wasn’t one of those fake ones he had shown you, but a genuinely bubbly sound. It flowed into his whole face, brightening it.
“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it,” He responded, a boxy smile gracing his lips.
He began to visit more, and you hated to admit you waited for him. Every time you heard footsteps come toward you the idea that it could be him crosses your mind. Your heart rate would quicken and the bit of energy that your body would produce was evidence enough that you hoped it would be him instead of a guard there to feed you.
You couldn’t blame yourself. If it weren’t for him, you probably would have gone mad from isolation. It wasn’t hard to understand why the prisoners your own father had held for information gave in so quickly. Being alone with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company and entertained could drive anyone mad.
It led you to think of why you were in fact, still alive. You would have thought you would have been discarded by now since you really had no more use. Taehyung’s father had successfully taken over your father’s kingdom from your understanding. Your own father having no siblings of his own left you useless for there was no one to barter you off to. There was no gain from keeping you.
With you deep in your thoughts, you had not been aware that Taehyung had found himself before you. He watched you as you fiddled with your hands, eyes not focused on anything specific. Your mind somewhere far off.
“Care to share what’s on your mind?” He asked, pulling your thoughts back down to earth. You realized he liked to ask you about your thoughts on things and actually hear them. It was much different than the way many had treated you as you grew. You were so used to being a pawn that being treated like a human was refreshing. It was different, but nice.
“Why am I still here?” You asked voicing the very thing that plagued your thoughts, “Your father has nothing to gain from keeping me imprisoned.”
He hummed, “My father doesn’t share anything with me. If he does, he had made the decision long before telling me. He’s never trusted me with much more than simple duties. He thinks I’m troubled.”
“You seem far from troubled,” You responded, finally moving from your spot on the bench. You followed his voice.
Taehyung stood, leaning against the wall directly across from your cell. His arms were crossed across his chest. Normally, you would find the stance intimidating but the way his body was relaxed with no tension made you feel the opposite. A smirk formed on his lips as he let out a halfhearted scoff, “He just doesn’t like anyone who disagrees with his point of view.”
“Your father is warped,” You shook your head, “He would have gained much more from this if he had just sent you to court me. Alliances are worth far more than enemies.”
His eyes found yours at your words and you watched as emotions flickered through them before settling on anger, “My father doesn’t look for the most profit; he thrives in power. He takes joy in destroying cities and taking them as his own. Yes, it would have been smarter to align ourselves, but he would have drowned knowing he didn’t have full control.”
You watched as he shifted uncomfortably in front of you, running his hand through his hair. The conversation not being one he was enjoying, obviously.
Unsure on exactly why you felt the need to, you shifted the conversation, “What do you take joy in?”
“I enjoy going to theatre and viewing artwork,” He responded after pondering for a few moments of silence, “Actually, despite my father’s distain towards the bards, I also quite enjoy their music.”
Your mind wandered for a few moments at the idea that he enjoyed any form of art. It opened up a new layer to him you had barely had a grasp on before. Oddly, you felt elated at the tiny reveal.
“I used to like wandering the garden after raiding the library and finding a quiet place to read. My father didn’t let me leave the castle very often but sometimes he would take me to see a show. I also quite enjoy them.” You responded, a soft smile laying upon your lips at the memory.
Taehyung couldn’t keep his eyes off you as you babbled about what you liked. He also couldn’t help but mimic your small smile though his was more out of guilt than fondness. You seemed so full of life, the one thing he craved from others, and yet you were thrown behind bars to rot. It didn’t sit well with him.
Clearing his throat, he pushed off the wall to move closer to your cell, “Um, I actually bought you something. I figured you were getting tired of the same stuff they’ve been feeding you.”
You watched as he rummaged around in his pocket for a second before pulling out a small wrapped package. He then reached through the bars separating the two of you, placing the item in your hand. His hand barely grazed yours, but you could tell it was warmer than your own.
Curious, you unwrapped the paper surrounding whatever he had smuggled you. Your heart raced at the sight of it. It wasn’t something you normally would be ecstatic about the small piece of pastry in your hands said otherwise. You then took a bite, closing your eyes at the sweet taste and the rich flavor.
“Thank you,” You say softly once you finished chewing.
“It’s nothing,” He said, “I have to return, but I’ll be back. Keep your head up Y/N.”
He gave a small wave before disappearing. You let out a deep breath, eyes finding the pastry still in your hands. Even though he had been gone only moments, you already missed his company.
Trying to do the one thing Taehyung requested was probably one of the hardest thing’s you could have done, but you did it. The only thing keeping you head above water was his visits and the stories of life he brought back with him. It seemed silly but hearing about the minuscule drama that flowed through the halls of the castle gave you entertainment. It made you feel alive still.
From what he had told you, it had been about two months since the total takeover of your home and your very own imprisonment. He does his best to keep you in the loop considering losing track of time down in the dark and the musk was easy to do. You appreciated him for it.
You’ve grown fond of him and you could tell by the way the small smile that never seemed to leave your lips when he was around or the way your stomach twists in knots whenever he told stories he was fond of. But you were definitely certain you had because even when the two of you sat in silence, it was just as comfortable.
Even now, no words between the two of you were being shared but you were in no rush to break the silence. His presence was enough.
“You don’t deserve this,” He sighed from his seated position on the ground, obvious hurt in his voice.
You felt for him. He was a man who was taught right from wrong but forced to stand behind a man who lived for chaos. The same man that drove him to find solace in the dark of the dungeon and confide in you.
Even then, he didn’t say much. You just noticed he would come down bothered and watch to make sure the guards didn’t follow him. Once comfortable, he would fall into what you had come to find as his true self and a very kind man.
Ironic considering who his father was.
You sighed, “This isn’t on you.”
“It doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad for it,” His response quick and slightly irritable.
You could tell he had worked himself up. His eyes locked on the ground and his leg bouncing endlessly to ease the tension through his body. The need to touch him to help calm him down shot through you but passed quickly when your brain deemed it impossible to accomplish. You settled by placing your hand on the metal in front of you, not comforting you or him in the process.
“Tae,” You breathe out, afraid to be any louder, “I’m still alive, therefore, I still have a chance to get out of here free.”
You spoke words that neither of you really had faith in. The odds of you walking out of the cell alive were slim, let alone alive and free. The fact you were even still breathing was a wonder in its own. Though he knew it wasn’t plausible, you still watched as his leg quit bouncing and his eyes broke from the dirt. He still opted to stay quiet.
“You deserve more,” You said filling the silence, “You’re a good man. I’d hate to see your father take that from you.”
You looked away from him decided to give him some privacy. It was odd; the way he got so worked up over the idea you were still behind the iron bars. The very bars under the touch of your fingers. Even abnormal as it was for his reaction to be the way it was, especially since your situation wasn’t a new one, he didn’t deserve to be ogled.
You felt warmth envelop the outer of your hand. The idea of pulling your own hand away flashed through your thoughts, but when your eyes met with another resting on the top of yours all feelings of that were lost.
Taehyung had moved closer, enough to where he could touch you. His thumb grazed your skin in a soothing movement, and you felt the tension you didn’t even know you had flee.
“I’m not sure how but,” He paused, and you surprised yourself with how fast your heart had begun to beat, “I’ll figure something out. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.”
The warmth of his hand gone in seconds and part of you longed for it to return. Instead, you watched as he pulled himself off the ground. He didn’t need to announce he was leaving. You knew. He brushed his pants off once standing and you watched dust fly into the air in the minimal sunlight. He then started his way down the hall.
“Don’t do anything to get you hurt,” You pleaded loud enough for him to hear you. He paused his step and turned to look at you from the distance. It ironically reminded you of the time you asked for his name though this time the smirk didn’t grace his lips and his eyes didn’t light up in amusement. You felt as though your voice would fail you as you somehow managed to speak the last bit out, “Please.”
He nodded his head and disappeared. Part of you, if not all of you, had a hard time believing he wouldn’t.
Kim Taehyung wasn’t the one for business meetings. He had been through his fair share of them and they all were so boring and drawn out. He also wasn’t a fan of family dinners. There was too much baggage to weigh him down within one for him to enjoy it. And frankly, he wasn’t a fan of his father. So, when his own father had announced that he had invited important clients for dinner and he was expected to show, he was in no surprise very indifferent. Could anyone blame him? It was the trifecta from hell.
He had really planned on skipping out, but with his father specifically seeking him out and asking personally it meant business. No one, not even the kings son, would go against him; or could for that matter.
A light knock on his bedroom door echoed into his silent room.
“Yes?” Taehyung asked, his eyes flicking to the door that remained closed. He really would rather had not been bothered, but he couldn’t ignore it.
“Sir, your father wished for me to remind you to be in the dining room before the guests arrive.”
As he always did. His father didn’t think he could get dressed for the day let alone show up to a meeting on time. It was all for appearance. He wanted people to know he had an heir to his thrown. He wanted people to know that once he was gone, there would be another to stand in his place. His empire would still run strong.
“I’ll be there.” He called back to the staff, feeling bad for the poor woman.
Once he figured she had disappeared into the massive castle, he proceeded to fling his legs off his bed and go to his wardrobe. He dressed in his less formal clothes, but they were put together enough for his father not to feel like he was bringing shame to his name.
He then made his way out of his temporary sleeping quarters and turned down the corridor. He had gone a few doors down when one in particular caught his eye. He paused his step, looking at it. The door itself wasn’t the thing that caught his eye. Actually, it looked exactly the same as every other in the castle. The archway that framed the door was the reason he had stopped.
Taehyung moved in closer, seeing lines etched into the stone of the doorway. His hands reached out, touching the lines carved in deep enough he could feel every bump under his fingertips. A small smile formed on his lips when he realized they had to be height marks. He was under the impression that you were the only child, so he assumed it to be yours.
“Ah, Sir, there you are,” A voice said causing his eyes to drift away from the notches on the wall to the person in question, “I was just going to check on you.”
Taehyung cleared is throat and let his hand fall from the wall, “I was already on the way. Have they arrived?”
“No, but the king requested me to go fetch you.”
“Well, it’s only down the hallway,” Taehyung sighed, “Or does he have you escorting me there as well?”
The man took a step back and bowed, leaving him to find his own way.
The eating quarters only took moments to walk to and when he rounded into the room it was still empty except for the staff fluttering about making sure everything was ready for the arrivals. He sighed, fully taking in how long of a night it truly was going to be.
The guests arrived a while later, leaving both him and his father to greet them before all taking a seat at the table. He had taken in that the guests were royalty from a few kingdoms away which struck him confused because his father wasn’t one to be social to others. From what he gathered his name Prince Lee and he brought along his own son.
The dinner went as neatly as it could have. Barely anyone had talked, which wasn’t a surprise to him in the slightest. If they did speak, it was to address the staff. No one decided to speak until the short wait for the dessert.
“So, why did you ask us here?” The Prince inquired, causing Taehyung’s eyes to leave and look at the guests.
His father stared at them for a second eyeing the man before responding, “I am aware that your sister was the queen of this kingdom before her passing, am I correct?”
Taehyung felt his stomach drop. He hadn’t realized the royalty his father had invited was in fact royalty related to you. He glanced between the two men. Both were obviously overconfident and neither showed any emotion.
“Yes, you are,” the Prince said taking a drink from his glass and setting it back down, “But as you said, my sister has passed and long before you became in possession of his kingdom. So, why am I here?”
His father chuckled, “I have something you might want.”
Taehyung choked on his drink, which summoned a glare from the king next to him. He sent a small, closed mouth smile to his father in attempts to apologize, not that it would matter in the long run.
“And what might that be?” He asked, eyebrow pulled up as he questioned.
“You are aware they had a child,” the king hummed. Each passing moment made Taehyung want to leave the room, but he had to know how this would play out. He had to know if you would be safe, “I still have her if you were interested. Of course, there would be a price.”
The silence that fell over the table was deafening and Taehyung was afraid that they may hear his own heartbeat which had been pounding since the mention of you. He itched to fidget with something to ease his growing anxiety, but he couldn’t, so he kept glancing between the two.
“What makes you think we want her?” The other questioned.
“She is your kin, is she not?” His father responded causing Tae’s eyes to follow where the sound came from, “I thought I would show good faith and offer you her life. You should be honored I even thought to.”
“She would be dead if you didn’t think you would get something out of this exchange, so what were you thinking? Tell me, and I will deem whether it is worth it.”
The staff came into the room. The hands maneuvered around the room picking up dishes that were done, refilling drinks, and placing the dessert down onto the table. Tae’s eyes followed them around appreciating how it was so well choreographed. Each person moving in and out without interference from another. Normally, he wouldn’t have paid much attention, but he was looking for anything to distract him from the tension in the room.
“I was thinking of an alliance. I heard there were talks of conspiracy against me and my kingdoms. I would be a fool to ignore them. So, I offer you the girl for your arms if need be.” Taehyung’s father offered, his eyes scanning the man across the table.
The other laughed, “Maybe you are a fool if you were to believe my father would ever ally himself with someone of your nature. The girl may be royalty of our blood, but she isn’t worth the risk and embarrassment of being associated with you and your tyranny.”
Taehyung grew cold at your uncle’s response despite how much sweat he had been producing. Without a reason to keep you alive, you would be executed. Both himself and you knew that would be the case despite his denial. He had never felt more shame than in that moment. His own father was the reason you weren’t worth being saved. They had no idea who you were so none knew how worth it you truly were.
He’d risk it if it were him.
“It’s better to keep me on your side rather than not, though I see you made your decision,” The king warned causing Taehyung to cringe internally. Threats were all his dad was good at.
The man on the other side of the table rose, his eyes locking with the other’s, “We are more united than your makeshift kingdoms and unreliable loyalties. Know that if you try, we will take you down. My welcome has worn so I will take my leave.”
Both king and prince watched as the guest exited the dining hall. The silence within the room was eerily loud. Taehyung wouldn’t dare try to talk as all he would get in response was the anger buried deep within his father from a deal that fell through. Not only that, but he was afraid his own voice would give away how shaken he was from the encounter.
“A public execution seems fitting for a royal, don’t you think?” The King voiced to no one in particular. Taehyung swallowed hard at the image that flashed through his mind.
“Isn’t that a little drastic?” He asked, a risk in itself.
His father turned his head and locked eyes with him, “I refuse to let them make a mockery of my name. They will regret their decision.”
The King then stood, slamming his hands against the table. Taehyung flinched back at the action. He then watched as his father exited the hall, leaving him alone with the dining staff. All of them wearing the wide eyes as they too felt the fear he had.
He cleared his throat shaking all of them from their trance, “I am done. You may proceed.”
As he stood, the staff began to clear the dishes and clean the table. He barely noticed the routine they had placed amongst themselves this time. He was too distracted with the knowledge that you had just been officially given a death sentence.
If his father had done this closer to when he had forced himself into power, Taehyung wouldn’t have been so torn. Yet too much time had passed, and now he was drawn to you. He found himself wanting to spend his time with you, even if it was within the dungeons of the castle.
He wouldn’t be able to witness seeing you hanged.
The dungeon was quiet, as it has been for the past week. It was just you, the bars that held you within, and the drunkard that had been thrown within a cell a few down from you that didn’t know begging wouldn’t get him anywhere.
You hadn’t realized how reliant you had become to the Prince’s visits. It was lonely being there with nothing but your thoughts. You tried your hardest not to let them consume you because you’ve seen what isolation does to a solid mind.
Time seemed to still be a foreign concept to you. The only way of being able to tell was the small window that would fade from light, to dark, to back again. Though, when you looked out from it, you were able to see that your garden was indeed looking less vibrant than before. You assumed that autumn would be on its way soon.
The rickety bench laid beneath you, somehow still able to support your weight despite the use it had endured within the past few months. Your arm found rest laying across your eyes shielding the sun that peaked through the window. Your mind wandering to daydream about freedom. Something you knew would most likely always stay a dream.
The clearing of a voice broke through the silence, “Am I interrupting?”
Your mouth opened slightly at the familiar voice. You removed your arm from your eyes as you went to push yourself into the sitting position. There he stood on the other side of the bars. His hair was disheveled and hung into his eyes.
“Not much for you to interrupt, is there?” You respond, standing up and walking towards the metal. The closer you got, the easier it was to see that he seemed concerned behind all the fringe. Despite his obvious distress, he gave a weak side smile at your attempt at a joke. It fell almost instantly. You cocked your head to the side slightly, trying to meet his brown irises, “What’s wrong?”
He stayed silent at your question, his eyes finding the dirt floor below him. His weight shifted from foot to foot as he tried to process what was on his mind. You didn’t push him as you figured that he would end up letting what fogged his mind out into the open. He wouldn’t look so troubled if he didn’t plan on telling you.
Yet, there was no need to tell you. You already knew from his actions.
“There was a meeting a few nights ago,” He started, his eyes finally finding your own, “I was surprised he wanted me to attend. When I found out that it was a prince from a near kingdom it made more sense. He wanted to look the part of a great king. When he arrived, I come to find out that he was the brother to the queen, your mother. My father offered him a deal. Your life, for an alliance.”
You nodded, taking in the information. The corners of your eyes stinged as you held back tears, “And they didn’t take the deal.”
“No,” Taehyung swallowed hard, “My father plans on making an example out of you. He scheduled a public execution within the next few days. I- I don’t know what to do.”
A tear slipped down your cheek at your solidified fate, “Nothing, there isn’t anything you can do. This was always going to happen.”
It was your turn to find comfort looking at the dirt below as another tear slipped. You told yourself that you were never going to get out of this situation alive many times, but the reality was finally hitting. Your will seemed to dwindle within seconds as you watched the hope you shouldn’t have held onto get crushed under the news.
Taehyung reached through and grasped your hand, enveloping it within his own. He tried to sooth you the best he could with the barricade in the way. He would have brought you to his chest if he could have, but alas, it was impossible. It was almost painful to see you so distraught.
“I figured you’d want to hear it from me,” He said, the sadness in this voice evident.
You looked up at him. His eyes were red and glossy from him holding back his own tears, you could tell. You almost wanted to thank him for being so strong because you just couldn’t anymore. He pulled the hand he had within his own through the bars and up to his lips, placing them gently against your skin. If only you were able to relish in how they felt on you then on your own impending doom.
He pulled away, letting your hand go gently. You pulled it back to you and laced your fingers around the metal in front of you, “If only we had the chance to meet in different circumstances, Kim Taehyung.”
“I agree,” He voiced. He straightened his body and bowed to you, “Princess.”
Your heart ached and this time it wasn’t for your life, but for him. Your whole life, you knew that you were nothing but an asset in a bigger game. Men came from many kingdoms to be in your good graces, and your fathers, so the families could merge and become a greater force. You always knew that a prince would come and sweep you off your feet, even if it was just for their profit.
But this prince in front of you was nothing like the ones who always stared over your shoulder seeking your father’s approval. He yearned for the day to shed the foul taste his own father left in many’s mouths. He was thoughtful and understanding. He saw you as a person. That was something no one seemed to be able to do. Even now, with your dirty clothes and matted hair, he bowed to you as if you stood before him in a gown looking to be courted.
When he stood, he held a sad smile, “I have to make an appearance, or they’ll send out a witch hunt for me.”
“Do what you must,” You respond. He nodded and turned on his heels, “Thank you.”
His movements halted more a minute at your thanks before he then continued down the hall.
Taehyung couldn’t shake the sick feeling he had in his stomach as he stood behind his father in front of the towns people. It was only a few hundred, far less than home, but he assumed the night his father came parading into the town there were many casualties. They might have had more in number before then.
He was used to the dirty glares; He had gotten them since that night, not that it was new then either. The staff that hadn’t died in the attack continued to work within the walls for the new royals, though the stares and cold air were obvious. Yet, the look of the commoners faces as they waited for the king to speak in itself spoke wonders. None of them wanted to be there. None of them had respect for the new King.
Taehyung didn’t blame them one bit.
He shifted his view from his father slightly to the right. His eyes landed on the execution stage, causing his stomach to churn. It was simple, which was all it needed to be. The rope hung slightly too high for your small figure to reach, which he assumed why a step stool lay not too far off. A man stood there, dressed in black, readying himself for his job.
It didn’t take long for the King to grab the crowd’s attention, them fearing that if they weren’t their village would go right back up into flames, “We are here for the execution of the only blood left to from the king before me.”
As he said that, you were dragged onto the scene. It was almost a mockery as they cleaned and dressed you up as if you didn’t just spend months within the confines of a cell. Your hands were bound, making it easier for the guard to drag you around. They also gagged you, so you weren’t able to speak. Taehyung assumed it was so that your words couldn’t influence the town into a revolution, and so no one could hear you scream.
The crowd itself seemed shocked; most probably assuming that you had already perished with the first attack. They didn’t know about your blood-soaked gown or the will you used to even survive that night.
The walk to the execution stage seemed to take so much longer than it should have. Taehyung could have blamed it on you struggling within the guards arms, but really, he knew the real reason was the anxiety of what he was about to witness.
He wondered if this was what the people who had loved ones on death row felt as they were forced to watch them hang.
But then, you were on the stage standing under the rope. The struggling had stopped. If there were a chance for you to escape your fate, it would have happened before then. You scanned over the crowd, exceedingly calm for what was about to happen.
Taehyung could hear his heartbeat in his ears as your eyes found his and stayed on him. He couldn’t help but wonder what was going through your mind at the moment. He couldn’t even properly filter through his own thoughts; he couldn’t imagine yours.
The executioner then placed the bag over your head, cutting your eye contact off and shielding the onlookers from the gore that was about to occur. Then, the rope was placed around your neck and tightened. Then he left you there, alone, as he went to stand by the lever and awaited his orders
Taehyung’s mouth went dry as his father demanded the attention of the audience once again, “Your kingdom was a disgrace when I came. It didn’t take me but moments to take over and make it my own. We are cleansing the kingdom with this execution. With my actions, we will rise to become untied and undefeatable. It’s time we-“
The King’s words fell off as he coughed, blood splattering onto the ground. The crowd erupted into a murmurs and screams as the sword that punctured through the king’s chest was withdrawn, leaving him without support. He fell to his knees holding the wound that was now profusely oozing blood.
Taehyung stood, sword still in hand. The blade itself was drenched with the blood of his father. The guards that surrounded them drew their own weapons, pointing them at him. He kept his composure, though honestly he felt anything but that. The sound of his father hitting the floor echoed in the silence.
“Stand down.” He voiced outload to the guards. It came out far more steady than he thought would have, but he wasn’t complaining.
He watched as the men debated doing as he demanded, though the shallow breathing of his father seemed to be proof enough for them to still stand strong. His eyes risked a look down at the dying man. The pool of blood under him continued to grow beneath him, staining the wood he laid on. Then, his chest seemed to have stilled.
Taehyung always knew his father would parish from the hands of someone he had wronged, because frankly, he was a horrible man. Yet, Taehyung didn’t know he was going to be the one to perform the fatal blow. It didn’t surprise him that he felt no remorse.
“I said stand down,” Taehyung said, more power within his voice, “As King, I demand you to stand down.”
The guards still seemed hesitant, but one by one they sheathed their swords. Taehyung followed suit, placing his own bloodstained weapon back in it’s cover. He glanced once more at his father’s corpse before turning to it. He pushed the body with his foot as if to double check that he was in fact dead. He then refocused his attention on what was important.
He jumped off the platform and hurried his way over to the execution stage. He waved off the executioner from the lever, making sure there could be no mistake.
He sighed to himself at the image in front of him. He had watched quite a few executions in his time, having the father he had, but they all were faceless. He didn’t know them, but he knew you.
He reached out and pulled the knotted rope from around you neck, freeing you from death’s possible grasp. Once freed, the rope swung freely though it would soon still once more. The bag thrown over your head was next, giving you back your sight once more.
Light flooded into your vision, confusing you. Your eyes adjusted slowly, and they found the familiar eyes you had come accustomed to seeing while you were imprisoned, though this time there were no bars obscuring his face. He was just as handsome as the last time you saw him, maybe even more now that both of you were out of the dimly lit dungeon.
He reached around you, untying the knot that tied the gag. You looked at him, “What did you do Taehyung?”
His eyes hardened a little at your whispered question as he moved to work on the ties on your wrists, “Nothing that wasn’t going to happen anyway.”
Your eyes then focused on the body lying in the distance and you sighed. Of course.
Once your hands were free from the restraints, he moved back within your line of sight. He only spared a second of a warm glance before addressing the crowd, “You were brought here under the assumption that there will be an execution today. I’m sorry that the plans had changed. The princess is not sentenced to death anymore. Please return to your normal routines.
As much as he sounded like a true leader, he looked nervous and shaken. With your now free limbs, you shuffled over toward him taking the chance to lace your hand within his in attempt to lend him strength and comfort.
He looked over at you, eyes once again softened. A soft squeeze of your hand telling you that you had made the right decision.
You looked at yourself in the mirror, appreciating the dress you were wearing. You never thought you would miss the process of getting dressed up in extravagant dresses to socialize with other royals. After being a prisoner for months with nothing but one change of clothes the whole time, you didn’t necessarily mind now.
To be honest, you thought you were dead. It wasn’t hard to deny the awful truth when the days behind the bars turned into months. What solidified it was when the bag was placed over your own head and the noose tightened around your neck. It was hard to deny anything at that point. You were going to die.
But nothing came despite the obscured vision and the rough twine rubbing against you.
Your savior being none other than the man you had found comfort in for months. Meeting his eyes comforted you yet again despite all your confusion.
You never thought that he would have taken his own father’s life just to save your own. He literally risked everything to save you, even his own life. You owed him far more than you ever think you could return since everything you owned in your life already belonged to him.
He still was king.
A knock echoed into your room, breaking the comfortable silence. You peered over at the door as it creaked open only to close after the new presence was within the walls.
The man leaned against the wall taking in the view, causing you to feel as though you needed to hide from embarrassment. A boxy smile crossed his face at your reaction. Trying to ignore him, you returned to your reflection making sure everything was in place.
“Why haven’t you gone down to the event?” You asked, taking a peek at him from the corner of your eye.
Taehyung let out a small chuckle at the idea you proposed at him, “A King shouldn’t ever enter an event without his Queen by his side.”
A small smile crossed your lips as you turned and walked towards him. He excepted you as your wrapped your arm around his own. He leaned over placing a gentle kiss upon your head before he escorted you out of the room and down to the hall.
- - -
Thanks to @ggukkieland for giving me support this whole time! Here’s your tag love!
Requested: No, I said to myself. “Self, you should write @taeandpuppies a smut.” and so I did, after asking for permission, of course.
A/N: This is just soft, loving, fluffy smut.
Warnings: Explicit language, explicit detail, softness, nudism, kinda worship kink, soft!Tae, Tae wants to be sure that you’re comfortable at all times, fingering, cum eating? he cleans his fingers, protective sex(Always use protection), aftercare mentioned.
Word Count: 2 863
【 • Primary Masterlist • Taehyung Masterlist • 】
【 • Rules & Request • 】
(Y/n) steps into the warm bedroom, the sun had been shining into the room warming the space, she approaches the bed and sits down on the soft mattress, the sheets feeling soft underneath her touch as she placed her hands down beside her on the bed, her gaze moving to the floor as she removes her shoes before moving her legs onto the bed and laying down on the mattress, her eyes fall close as her muscles begin to relax, it was silent, the only sound she could hear was the wind gently blowing outside along with the birds chirping and flying past the windows.
The silent moment was short-lived when she heard footsteps approaching the bedroom, the person enters the bedroom before stopping for a minute, Taehyung stood in the doorway, his eyes slowly moving her (Y/n)’s body as she lies on the bed, the sun rays that had entered the bedroom was shining on her, making her skin glow in the light, a soft smile forms on his lips before he approached the bed, he placed a knee on his side of the bed and leans over, leaning towards her, only stopping when his lips were inches away from hers, his scent invaded her nostrils causing her to open her eyes, only to meet his soft eyes.
“Hello,” Tae says in a gentle tone, his voice sounded so sweet and warm when he spoke. “I missed you today.”
“I missed you too.” (Y/n) softly says, he leans closer, closing the space between them as his soft lips brush against her soft warm ones, gently kissing her, both of their eyes falling shut, one of his hands supports himself on the bed while his other hand carefully caresses her cheek, feeling her soft skin underneath his touch as his fingers slowly trail down her cheek, over her neck towards her exposed collarbone before his hand reached the summer dress she wore, they break the kiss, softly gasping for air as their lungs burned for oxygen, she slowly opens her eyes only to see him already looking down at her with admiration in his eyes.
“Goddess, you’re so beautiful.” Tae softly says. “Can you move to the middle of the bed for me?” She nods her head, Taehyung shifts on the bed as he moves away from her, letting her move to the middle of the bed. “Perfect.” He sits down on the edge of the bed and placed his hand above her knee, his fingers softly kneading her skin as he slides his hand up and down her thigh. “My beautiful goddess.” His eyes watching her intensely, making sure she was still comfortable with what he was doing, his other hand moves to the bottom of her dress, his fingers curl around the fabric, his knuckles ghostly brushed over her skin as he slowly pushes it up. “May I remove your dress?” She nods her head. “I want to hear you say it, can you say it for me, please?”
“Yes, yes, you can remove my dress.” (Y/n) says, she felt a sensation in her lower stomach as her dress was lifted higher until it was just below her navel, she bends her knees and pressed her heels into the mattress and lifted her hips, the dress was pushed past her bottom before she lowered her hips back down on the bed.
“Can you sit up for me, goddess?” Tae asks, She sits up and he leans forward, capturing her lips against his while his hand moves to her back, his hand quickly finding the zip, his fingers glide over her soft warm skin as he unzips the dress, once it was unzipped his hand moved to the bottom of the dress, his fingers curling over the fabric before breaking the kiss, he carefully removes the dress before tossing it aside. “As beautiful as it was on you, you look absolutely breathtaking without it.” His hand moves to her back once again, quickly finding the clasp to the strapless bra she wore. “I love the bra, easy and quick to remove.” He unclasps the bra, the fabric shifts away from her body and uncovers her breasts. “Lay down for me beautiful.” She lays back down as he picks up her bra and drops it the floor next to the bed, his eyes slowly move over her body, drinking in the sight of her in front of him, she looked absolutely breathtaking, he licks his lips and reaches for her, gently cups one of her breasts and softly kneads the skin with his fingers, his thumb drawing small circles near her sternum.
“I will never get tired of this, of you,” Tae says, his eyes were now back on hers, his hand moves away from her breast and over her stomach as he leans towards her, his lips brush over her skin at the top of her breasts. “Your soft warm skin.” He presses his lips firmly down against her skin, kissing the skin before moving between her breasts over her sternum. “Your beautiful breasts.” His fingers play with the elastic of her panties. “The sight of you is forever inked in my mind, like a tattoo.” She could feel warmth pooling between her legs as the temperature in the room rises, his eyes looked up at her, his lips trail down her stomach before stopping once he reaches her panties, his fingers release her panties and moves to the outside of her thigh and gently rubs her warm skin. “Are you comfortable, beautiful?”
“Yes, yes.” (Y/n) answers, knowing that he wanted to hear her say it out loud.
“Good, because I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” Tae says. “That’s the last thing I want.” His hand moves from the outside of her thigh to the top of it, his fingers gently kneading into the skin as he continues to slide his hand over her thigh, stopping once his hand was between her thighs. “Can I touch you?”
“Yes.” (Y/n) breathes out, yearning for his touch, Taehyung softly smiles at her, she could see his eyes darken with lust, but he only cared about pleasuring her, he was moving slowly for her, making sure that she was comfortable, her eyes fall down to his lap, seeing a tent forming in his jeans, her eyes move back to his face.
“Can I remove these?” Tae asks, she knew what he meant, she knew he was referring to her panties.
“Yes.” (Y/n) says while nodding, he moves his hand from between her thighs back to her panties, both his hands taking hold of the fabric, she lifts her hips from the mattress, letting him pull the fabric down before lowering her hips back down to the mattress, his knuckles brushes along her legs as he removes it, once her panties were completely removed he dropped it to the floor and placed one hand on her leg before slowly sliding it upwards, his touch feeling like the stars were dancing on her skin, his hand moves to the inside of her thigh causing her to open her legs, giving him more access, his hand inches closer to her pussy before his fingers move over her pussy lips, feeling the heat coming from them.
“Mhm.” Tae hums in satisfaction, she closes her eyes as she felt his finger slip between her pussy lips. “Oh, so nice and wet.” His fingers slide along the inside of her pussy lips, collecting her wetness onto his finger, his eyes carefully watching her reaction.
“Mhm.” (Y/n) whimpers as she felt his finger circle around her clit.
“Moan for me, let me hear you,” Tae says as he slides his finger towards her opening, before sliding it back to her clit, he could feel her growing wetter as the seconds ticked by.
“Mhm.” (Y/n) softly hums as his finger pressed against her clit, he slides his finger from one side to the other. “Oh, Tae.” His finger moves back to her opening as a second one slips between her pussy lips, his fingers circled her opening before dipping the tips of his fingers inside her. “Oh.” She could feel his fingers stretching and filling her, but wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it would be if it was his length, he slowly pulls his finger out, stopping when just the tips remained inside her.
“You sound so beautiful,” Tae says as he carefully slips a third finger into her opening.
“Oh, mhm.” (Y/n) breathes out, his fingers disappear into her opening. “Mhm.”
“Does that feel good?” Tae asks, his fingers curl inside her.
“Yes.” (Y/n) breathes out, he slowly extends his fingers before curling them again, his eyes never leaving her face as he repeated the movement, he needed to be sure that she was enjoying it, that he was pleasuring her and not doing the opposite.
“Goddess, you look so beautiful,” Tae says, his tone deep as he spoke, he could see her muscles starting to twitch with pleasure as he continues to curl and extend his fingers inside her, a dull tension slowly starts to form in the pit of her stomach. “Are you going to come undone for me?” He could feel her walls beginning to clench around his fingers, his thumb slips between her pussy lips and circles around her clit. “Come for me, show me how beautiful you are when you’re quivering with pleasure.” His thumb ghostly brush over her clit causing her legs to shake with pleasure, warmth quickly spreads over her body as her walls clenched around his fingers. “Come for me, (Y/n).” He presses his thumb against her clit, the tension that had built up inside her suddenly shatters and pleasure washes over her, his fingers curls inside her, rubbing against the most sensitive spot inside her. “That’s it, so breathtaking.” Her body quivers with pleasure he could feel her wetness surrounding his fingers as she releases around them.
“So perfect,” Tae mumbles before flicking his lips, he could see the pleasure on her face and her eyes squeezed shut and her hands entangled with the bedsheets, before seeing her muscles relax as she came down from her high, her eyes open as he pulls his fingers from her opening and brought his hand into view, his eyes moving away from hers to look at his glistening fingers before looking back at her. “Look at the mess you made on my fingers, my goddess.” She stares at him as he moves his fingers closer to his mouth, his lips wrap around them and his tongue moves over his fingers, cleaning her wetness from them before pulling them from his mouth. “You taste so delicious.” (Y/n) couldn’t help but whimper at the sight.
“Tae.” (Y/n) whimpers as she watched him, he stood from the bed and begins removing his own clothes, peeling off the white t-shirt from his body and dropping it to the ground, the next piece of clothing to be removed was his shoes, he quickly kicks them off before moving to his jeans and carefully tugs them down after unbuttoning and unzipping them, (Y/n) could only stare at him in amazement, everything about him was practically perfect, she couldn’t find one flaw on him.
“I can feel you staring at me,” Tae says, his eyes were looking down as he removed his jeans. “You’re just as perfect, (Y/n).” She licks her lips as a smile begins to form on her soft lips. “Every part of you, I can never get over how beautiful you are, and how lucky I am to have you.” He kicks his jeans aside with his foot and moves to discard his underwear, his hard cock slaps against his stomach as he removed his underwear, he wraps his hand around himself as he pushes his underwear aside with his foot, he steps closer to the nightstand and pulls it open.
“Do you want me to…?” (Y/n) asks as the trails off, Taehyung knew what she was asking, but this was about her.
“No, no, this is about you, I don’t want you to do a thing,” Tae says as he reaches into the drawer and takes out a box of condoms, she leans over and takes out a packet from the box, he drops the box back into the drawer and used his knee to closer the drawer, his hand twists around his length, moving his hand up and down his length, he takes the packet from her and she moves back into position, bending her legs as she becomes impatient, she wanted to feel his warm body against hers, feel him fill her as he softly kisses her, he unwraps his hand from his cock and tears the packet open, he takes out the piece of protection and places it against his cock, pinching the tip of the protection before rolling it over his length, he turns his gaze towards the bed and moves to the end of it before crawling onto the bed, between her legs before crawling on top of her, their eyes meeting as he pressed one hand into the mattress to support his weight, she could feel his length brushing against her pussy lips, he reaches between them and wraps his hand around his cock before slipping himself between her moist pussy, coating his cock and the piece of protection with her wetness.
“Mhm, Tae.” (Y/n) whines as she felt his length brushing between her pussy lips, he moves himself to her opening and pushes the head of his cock inside her, he unwraps his hand from his length and placed it on the bed before leaning down, his lips brush against hers as his cock slowly sinks into her, slowly filling her and stretching her walls, capturing her soft whines in his mouth. “Mhm.” He breaks the kiss once his length was buried inside her.
“Are you still comfortable?” Tae asks, she nods her head.
“Yes.” (Y/n) breathes out, he couldn’t describe the incredible feeling of her walls wrapped around him. “Can you move?” He slowly begins to pull out, stopping when only the head of his cock remained inside her before slowly sinking himself back into her, he places one of his hands on her upper arm and slides his hand down her arm, towards her hand, he takes hold of her hand and brought her hand up to the pillows, interlacing his fingers with hers. “Tae.” His lips brush over her jaw as he pulls out until just the tip remained inside her. “Faster, please.” His hips suddenly snap forward. “Oh, Tae!” The sound of her sweet voice moaning his name sounded like music to him, it was his favourite sound in the entire world, a thin layer of sweat coated their skin as the room temperature continues to ride, the sound of her wetness filled the room each time he would thrust in and out of her.
“Oh, Tae!” (Y/n) moans out, his lips softly move over her neck, leaving soft kisses behind on her skin, a familiar sensation returns to the pit of her stomach, her walls begin to clench around him, her toes curl with pleasure while her mind became clouded with it, her free hand twists into the sheets. “Tae!” His lips trail up her neck, over her jaw. “I’m close!” He could feel how close she was, her walls clenching around him, milking him for an orgasm.
“Come for me, come undone for me,” Tae says in a husky tone, he thrusts into her before posing his lips against hers, capturing her moans, her eyes fall close as the tension in her lower stomach exploded and pleasure washed over her, her back slightly arched from the bed, he breaks away from the kiss as he felt her walls clamp down around him, his eyes rolled to the back of his head from the pleasurable feeling. “Goddess!” He could feel her wetness surrounding his length as she releases around him, he pulls out until just the head remained inside her before pushing himself back in, inching closer to his release, he could feel the energy from his body draining as his thrusts became irregular and slower, a sudden burst of energy exploded in his cock as he releases into the piece of protection, his thrusts coming to a complete hold inside her, he lowers his head, nuzzling his face into her neck, his lips softly kissing her neck, she pens her eyes as she comes down from her high, their breathing filled the room as both of them came down from the high, form the blissful experience, he lifts his head and stares into her eyes.
“So perfect, so beautiful,” Tae says, he carefully slips out from her and releases her hand before climbing off her, he sits at the edge of the bed and carefully removes the condom before tying it and tossing towards the trashcan. “Let me go run you a bubble bath.” He stood from the bed.
“Wait.” (Y/n) softly says, he stops in his tracks and turns towards the bed to look at her. “Will you join me?”
