#taehyun au

[soobmint]

when the ice begins to thaw | kang taehyun [f] ice prince! au, 10.4k words

s u m m a r y : The rumors of the Ice Prince, Kang Taehyun, that run throughout the kingdom of Glacies are nothing short of terrifying. Known as a spoiled boy who does nothing but take advantage of the horrors bestowed upon the kingdom by his grandfather, the late king, Taehyun is feared and despised by nearly all of his subjects. When you decide to take matters into your own hands as the kingdom’s greatest thief by plotting to steal the crown that harnesses the prince’s unjustly earned powers, you are surprised to find out that perhaps the Ice Prince is not exactly who everyone fears him to be.

c o n t e n t s : kang taehyun x fem reader, ice prince! taehyun, thief! reader, lots and lots of fluff, very mild angst, features enhypen’s 02 line!!

t a g l i s t : @honeyju @chanluster @tyonfs @magicalstellar

n o t e : this oneshot is my contribution to the five princes collaboration! you can find the masterlist for the collab here. check out the other participants’ blogs too! [ @bffsoobin, @juunnies, @honeyju, @gyuluster ]. this was a lot of fun to write and i hope you guys enjoy it!

FOR SOMEONE WHO WAS THOUGHT TO BE THE GREATEST THIEF AROUND, YOU WEREN’T VERY QUICK ON YOUR FEET. 

It had been nearly half an hour since you had set your way across the icy bridge that led to the palace, nothing but the cloak of night to conceal you and your companions. You had studied the palace’s floor plan for months leading up to your mission, but for some reason, during all that time you hadn’t really thought of how difficult it would be to cross this god forsaken bridge. Your feet nearly came out from under you with every step you took, and it was so narrow that the four of you had to walk in a single file line.

 Speaking of your companions, the three boys that accompanied you were proving to be an obstacle to your success all on their own.

 “Jake, you have to keep up.”

 You turned to see Jay, your self-proclaimed “second-in-command,” pulling Jake along by the wrist. The former liked to brag and say that he was among the most elite group in the village, boasting a great air of bravery and courage. However, now that he was actually in the face of danger, he seemed to be the most cowardly out of them all. Sunghoon, the brains of the operation, held up the rear of the group, shaking his head in exasperation at his companions.

 You sighed, bringing the group to a halt as you turned to face them, arms crossed over your chest. “I don’t feel as though I should have to remind you, boys, but we’re not here to play,” You said, giving Jake and Jay the heat of your glare. “Jake, if you’re too scared to help out, I suggest you back out now before it’s too late. Oh, and Jay, leave the leading to me, would you?”

 While Jay mimicked your voice in the most obnoxious way possible, no doubt completely disregarding what you had just asked of him, Jake ripped his arm free of Jay’s grasp and puffed up his chest. “Me, scared? Oh please, Y/N. I’m flattered that you think about me enough to care, but you’re looking at one of Glacies’ greatest rising legends! The future generations will tell stories about me, no doubt.” He threw you a careless wink, and you had to fight back the impulse to cackle out loud at how ridiculous he looked. “And you’ll get to say you had the pleasure of knowing me. Or perhaps even the pleasure of having courted me as well?”

 From where he stood behind him, Sunghoon smacked the back of Jake’s head. That seemed to be enough to shut him up nicely.

 “Anyways,” You continued, “We’re losing moonlight. I needn’t remind you of the fact that if we don’t make it out of here with the crown tonight, we’ll likely never get to see justice restored to our kingdom. Understood?”

 “Perfectly,” Jay said, his voice strained in forced submission to your authority. You merely rolled your eyes—you were quite used to him and his attitude after spending nearly your entire life with him and the other two that accompanied you.

 “She’s right, you know.” Sunghoon spoke for the first time since the four of you had set out on your assignment. You began to move forward again, the rest of the group following close behind. “The palace security is weaker tonight because the crown prince sent an assembly of guards to accompany the prince of Regna Terrae back to his home. The odds of us finding another gap in security like this are—”

 “Incredibly slim, yes, we know,” Jake said. “You’ve only told us about twelve dozen times.”

 “Maybe if I thought you were actually listening to me, I wouldn’t feel the need to repeat myself so often.”

 “Well maybe if you weren’t such a pain in my—”

 “Shh.” You held up your hand as you came to a stop again, after having finally set foot off the slippery bridge and onto the snow-covered walkway that led to the huge gates made of solid ice. Some might have tried to simply break through the ice to earn entry to the palace, but you knew better.

 This was no regular formation of ice—it was ice forged by the crown’s magic.

 You looked around for any sign of stray guards. If your team’s predictions had been correct, the guards would have been switching their stations at this time. You had approximately four minutes and fifty-three seconds to get through the gates before the rotation was settled, so there was no time to lose.

 You glanced behind you, noticing that the boys had all replaced their teasing and playful mannerisms with serious gazes hardened by determination. With a single nod from you, everything was set into motion. Jay handed you the rope and hook from his bag, and you wasted no time in tossing it over the gate, pulling it tightly until you were certain that it had successfully latched onto the top. Jake knelt in front of you, folding his hands before extending them towards you. You placed your foot in his hands, waiting for him to give you a boost.

 “Are you sure you can do this by yourself?” He asked.

 “Yes, I’m positive,” You assured him. “You guys need to head to the far side of the wall and wait for me there. Sunghoon knows what to do if I’m in danger, but everything will be fine. Now hurry up and boost me.”

 After a moment longer of hesitation, Jake thrusted his hands up while you jumped up at the same time, reaching out to grab the rope while you planted your feet against the icy gate. You let out a tiny sigh of relief when your feet didn’t slide off or cause you to fall—the boots that Sunghoon had designed to grip the ice were proving to be just as effective as he had claimed. You pulled yourself up the rope, moving as quickly as possible without letting your feet slip.

 You soon found yourself perched at the top of the gate, your huff of relief turning into a cloud in the cold air. The view was nothing short of magnificent; fountains with frozen displays of various animals and flora, a grove of trees painted blue with ice and frost, and the castle. If you had the leisure to simply stop and observe the spiraling towers made of crystal ice, the beautiful clouds of eternal snow that remained stationary above the palace, the giant snowflake patterns that were imprinted along each outer wall, you would have stayed there just looking for ages.

 But you knew that sightseeing was not on your agenda. When you glanced over your shoulder, you were happy to see that the boys had already left for their station, leaving you on your own. It took you no time to spring into action. You jumped down from the top of the gate, the impact of hitting the ground sending an echo of pain up your legs and to your core, but you quickly shook it off and sprinted towards the outer wall of one of the towers. Your informant from within the palace had sent word that the window you were about to climb into was the best place of entry. It was in a distant hallway that was close enough to the throne room for you to have easy access to the crown, but far enough away from where the guards were stationed that the chance of them being alerted to your entry was small.

 You threw your grappling hook up again, this time latching it on the sill of the open window. Without Jake’s boost, it took you a bit longer to climb the rope, but you were no amateur when it came to breaking and entering. Soon enough, you had dropped down into the stairway that lied beyond the window, thanking your lucky stars yet again for Sunghoon and his slip-proof boots.

 Your footsteps echoed throughout the walls of ice, and you bit the inside of your cheek, taking care to make your steps as soft as possible. The past months, you had done practically nothing aside from memorize the floorplan of the palace, but you couldn’t help how nervous you were beginning to feel. This was nothing like when you snuck into the kitchen at the local tavern to snatch some food for the hungry kids, or when you broke into the overstock building for the tailors to grab a few winter coats for those who needed them.

 This was the castle, and you were there to steal the crown. Not just for your own good, but for the good of everyone else in the Kingdom of Glacies.

 When you finally reached the throne room, your heart was practically in your throat. Typically the cool headed one of your band of thieves, this feeling of pure anxiety was something new to you. With a shaky breath to calm your nerves, you peeked around the corner to take a look at what awaited you in the throne room.

 There were two thrones at the far end of the room, made of spiraling ice spires and decorated with intricately detailed snowflakes that would never melt. One was a bit taller than the other—the King’s throne, no doubt—while the other didn’t reach quite as high in the air, but that didn’t make it any less marvelous of a sight to behold. The real piece of beauty in the dimly lit room of ice, however, was the pedestal that sat just between the two thrones which held the giant, sparkling crown made of ice and snow.

 It was the King’s crown; the bane of every Glacian’s existence. And it just so happened to be what you planned to walk out of the palace with that night.

 Stationed right in front of the crown, two guards stood, frozen just like the pillars of ice throughout the room. You bit your lip, growing increasingly worried as you waited for your cue to move in towards the crown.

 “Argh! You’ll never catch me, you scum!”

 Never before had you wanted to sock Jake in the face so badly as you did in that moment. He had been instructed to create a diversion, but it sounded more like he was a pirate from the Kingdom of Nymphe. His shouts spilled in through the open window right behind the thrones, filling the otherwise silent palace with his voice. If you could have trusted that Sunghoon would have been loud enough to even be heard, you would have asked him to do it instead. He was the only one who even pretended to listen to you.

 “What’s that? You think you can chase me down? With those skinny legs? Ha!”

 There was a loud bang, and you decided in that moment that when you got back to your village, you would kick Jake out of your team and encourage him to join the theatrics group instead of pursuing this line of work. Not because he was a good or compelling actor, but because he was so outlandishly obnoxious that he would fit right in.

 The guards glanced at one another, but neither of them moved from their stations. They probably assumed—or hoped—that someone else would be taking care of the lunatic outside.

 Until they heard Jake shout, “Take that!” which was followed by a large crash, and another slew of empty threats. The guards quickly ran out one of the back entrances of the throne room, finally giving you your chance to move forward.

 You were light on your feet, not even making a sound as you dashed across the iced floor. With one leap, you skipped up the few steps that led to the crown. It was even more stunning close up, just as alluring as all the stories surrounding it had claimed. Blue jewels frosted over were embedded in the crown, which was made of solid ice, just like the palace that it sat in. The most mesmerizing part about it, however, was the flurry of never-ending snow that surrounded it, as though it were a part of its own atmosphere, separate from the rest of the world.

 Your heart stormed within your chest, and you thought it might burst right out of you. Everything you had prepared for had led to this moment, but now that it was finally here, you were beyond terrified. But you were ready.

 You stretched your hands out towards the crown, but before you could even feel its icy surface beneath your gloved hands, you felt someone’s body press flush against yours from behind, one arm holding you around your shoulders, and the other pressing the edge of an ice dagger against your throat.

 Heart in your stomach, you were silent for a few moments. Someone had caught you. It was over. It was all over. You prayed that Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon had gotten away safely, that only you would have to pay the price for trying to seek justice for your kingdom.

 You had practically written your own eulogy in your head when you heard the person speak, their breath tickling the back of your neck as they tightened the ice cold grip they had on you.

 “You know, it is wrong to take something that isn’t yours.”

 A man’s voice. You could tell right away, and his words made your blood boil. Perhaps you should have bitten your tongue, but you couldn’t keep the venomous words from leaving your mouth.

 “It’s not wrong to take back something that was yours to begin with, is it?”

 “I’m afraid I’m a bit lost. Does this crown belong to you?”

 “It doesn’t just belong to me,” You seethed, “It belongs to every single Glacian, those alive and those who have passed, and I’m here to take it back.”

 With that, you quickly snatched the knife from the man’s hand and spun around, pressing the blade against his throat this time, grabbing onto the front of his shirt to hold him in place.

 When you saw his face, you knew you were a goner for sure.

 Piercing blue eyes, a sharp jawline, blonde hair so light, it was almost white. His skin seemed to be made of ice, and his lips were set in an amused grin, one of his perfectly shaped brows arched upward.

 You were holding the edge of a dagger against the neck of Kang Taehyun, the Ice Prince himself.

 With the simple flick of his wrist, the dagger in your hand dissolved into snow, falling from your grasp in an instant.

 His eyes drew you in and he held you with his gaze; frozen, unable to move, a fistful of his white sleepshirt still held within your fist. Your imagination began to run wild as you tried to predict what would happen next. Based off of what you had heard about the prince, you expected him to turn you to ice right then and there, perhaps preserving you in his room full of iced prisoners that he was rumored to have, or maybe he would just shatter you to bits and pieces right away, like a glass smashed against a stone floor.

 You decided to take your last shot at doing what you had gone there to do.

 You quickly shook yourself from the prince’s grip, pushing him back onto the icy floor. When he no longer had a hold on you, you lunged towards the crown, hearing Taehyun shout, “Wait!” before the tips of your fingers barely touched one of the crown’s jewels. When you made contact with the crown, you felt a sharp pain in your neck, and with great force, you were thrown back onto the ice, landing right next to the prince himself.

 The pain was spreading from your neck to the rest of your body, like frost creeping up blades of grass. You pressed your hand against your neck and couldn’t hold back a gasp when you saw blood covering your palm.

 Before you knew it, Taehyun was leaning over you, gently cupping your neck in his hands. You closed your eyes, certain that he was about to strangle you for your vain attempt at destroying the crown. His fingers were like icicles against your skin; smooth, strong, and deathly cold.

 But he didn’t strangle you. He didn’t even squeeze your neck or try to block your airways at all. Instead, he lightly brushed his cold fingers over your skin. As he did so, you could feel the pain melt from your body.

 “There you go,” He said softly. He helped you back to your feet, and you opened your eyes, pressing your hand against the place where your wound had been just moments before. There was not a trace of blood left in sight.

 “What was that?” You whispered, holding Taehyun’s gaze.

 Before he could answer, you heard three familiar voices fill the chilly throne room. With eyes round as saucers, you peeked over the Prince’s shoulder to see Sunghoon, Jake, and Jay being dragged in by not one, two, or even three—but five palace guards. Where said guards had even come from, you had not a clue.

 There was, however, one thing you knew for sure: your plan had failed, and the price of failure was going to be your life.

 Or at least, you thought it would be, before the prince saved you.

 You swallowed, wishing that you could have at least seen your companions walk free. This whole mission was your idea, after all. You alone should have been held responsible for the failure. Heart racing, you grasped at endless threads of half-strung ideas that wove in and out of your mind, trying desperately to figure out some way to save the boys.

 “Please,” you said, your eyes meeting Taehyun’s, “Let them go. I drug them here; they have nothing to do with this. You can turn me to ice, kill me, do whatever it is that you desire. Just let them go, please.”

 “Y/N, don’t,” Sunghoon said firmly, but you ignored him, keeping your eyes fixated on the prince.

 Taehyun’s eyes softened, his brows knitting together, almost as if he were hurt by your pleas. He was being just as cautious as you were—perhaps even more so. “I have no intentions of harming you or your friends, my lady. In fact, the desires of my heart are quite the opposite of what you assume them to be.”

 You raised a brow. “Please, enlighten me of your true intentions then, Ice Prince.”

 “I want to help you.”

 “Oh, come on,” Jay groaned. You shot a glare that would freeze any normal man, but alas, Jay was far from normal, so he continued to speak. “Y/N, don’t listen to a word this prick says. If he wanted to help his people, he would have done so by now.”

 Although you wanted to cut out his tongue from how annoyed you were by Jay’s habit to speak up during the most inappropriate times, you knew that your friend had a point. The people of Glacies had been driven to desolation and poverty by the late king’s actions, while in your eyes, the rest of the royal family did nothing but sit idly by and watch it all happen.

 But you had just seen a side of the prince that was entirely different from every story you had ever been told about him. When your life was on the line, he didn’t kill you or laugh mercilessly as he watched the life leave your body. He had saved you.

 Taehyun turned to face your friends, and you felt your heart leap into your throat. The prince motioned for the guards to release their holds on your friends. They did as they were told, and the three boys were much too shocked by Taehyun’s instructions to do anything but stand there, frozen, keeping their eyes glued to the prince as he spoke once more.

 “I understand why you’re here,” He said, glancing over his shoulder at the crown. He locked eyes with you for a split second before he looked back at the boys. “I want the same thing you do. But I’m afraid that there’s no way for you to achieve your goal by simply taking the crown. It’s far more complicated.”

 “What do you mean you ‘want the same thing’ we do?” Jake finally spoke after regaining some sensibility—though he never had all that much to begin with, in your opinion. “Do you even truly know what we are here for?”

 “You want to destroy the crown and restore the kingdom to its former state of balance,” Taehyun said. “Am I correct?”

 “It’s not just that,” Sunghoon finally spoke up, his cool, calculating eyes drifting between you and Taehyun, as if he expected the prince to turn around and attack you at any given moment. “We want to undo all the pain and suffering your family has caused us. Do you even know how desolate your people have become while you’ve wasted away in your palace for the past two decades, Your Highness?”

 Taehyun frowned, casting his eyes down to his feet. “I’m well aware. I know it may not look like it, but I’ve been doing everything I can to help reverse the pain my family has caused our kingdom. But I realized that I can’t do it alone.”

 He turned to face you then, and you were surprised to find yourself drawn to his piercing eyes rather than being struck down by fear. His gaze was urgent, but it was gentle.

 “I need you to help me.”

 “No. Absolutely not.” You tore your eyes from Taehyun to glare at Jake, who had decided once again to speak out of turn. “Y/N, you can’t trust him! Don’t do it.”

 You knew where Jake was coming from, but you couldn’t help but feel as though Taehyun was telling the truth. And even if the prince were lying, you would probably never have the chance to get this close to the crown again. Even then, it was clearly impossible for you to touch the crown, as you had nearly died trying to do so just moments before.

 You had no choice. You were going to stay with Taehyun.

 “I just have one condition,” You said, ignoring the objections that flew from the lips of your friends. “You let them go. Now.”

 “Of course,” Taehyun said without a moment’s hesitation. “I have no intentions of keeping anyone here against their will. Yourself included. But if you truly want to destroy the crown, I need you to stay with me. Just for a few days.”

 You nodded, keeping your eyes trained on his. “Alright. But the moment I sense that you’re lying to me, Your Highness, not even the four princes of the surrounding kingdoms will be able to save you from my wrath. Understood?”

 Perhaps you were just seeing things, but you could have sworn that you saw the prince smile when he said, “Perfectly.”

 -

 WHEN YOU WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING, THERE WAS A NOTE ON YOUR BEDSIDE TABLE.

 Well, it wasn’t your bedside table, but rather the one in the bedroom Taehyun had lent to you for the duration of your stay. The night before, against all their complaints, you had sent Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon back to the village with instructions to search for you if you didn’t return in a week’s time. After they had left, you wanted to talk to Taehyun right away, but he had disappeared from your sight, leaving you with a guard who said that the Prince had gone to bed, and that you were encouraged to do so as well.

 You stretched your arms above your head, squinting in the morning sunlight that slipped through the curtains, and picked up the note from the table.

 I hope you found the room suitable for resting. When you wake, put something on from the closet in your room then come to the dining hall for breakfast, if you’d like. One of the maids will escort you there.

 —Taehyun

 You sighed, folding the note up and setting it back on the table. After another good stretch, your feet met the cold floor and you slumped over to the large closet, throwing the doors open. Your eyes were met with dresses in varying lengths and shades of blues and periwinkles, and shoes to match them all. A great sigh left you at the sight—you did not wear dresses. But the pants and shirt you had come to the palace in were caked with mud and sweat, so you had no choice but to change, and it wasn’t like you had many options.

 Begrudgingly, you searched through all the hanging gowns, finally settling on a long sleeved, ankle-length frosty blue dress made of lace that held subtle snowflake patterns throughout the skirt. It was the most practical looking one amidst all the others, but you still found yourself already growing annoyed at the lack of freedom you felt in the skirt. You put on the pair of shoes that went along with the gown and stopped by the mirror, running your hands through your tangled hair before you finally stepped out of the bedroom.

 A maid was waiting outside the door, just as Taehyun had said she would be. You followed her down the stairs of ice, hugging your arms across your chest as you shivered from the cold.

 “I know this is the Ice Prince’s palace, but does it have to be so cold?” You asked, your teeth chattering. There was no response from the maid as you went down the last flight of stairs and found yourself walking into a large dining room, with a glass table in the center of the room and a dozen chairs surrounding it. The floor was frosted over, and snowflakes fell from the ceiling, though they melted away as soon as they hit the floor. Only the seat at the head of the table was occupied—Taehyun sat there, dressed nicely in a dark blue suit, his hair parted neatly to the side. He smiled when he saw you, motioning for you to take the seat beside of him.

 You sat down slowly, taking great care to cross your legs so you didn’t accidentally expose too much of yourself. Taehyun eyed you curiously as you reached for the cup of tea that a servant had sat down for you.

 “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you seem to be a little bit uncomfortable,” He said, sliding a plate of fruits and breakfast pastries towards you. You accepted them gratefully, noticing just how hungry you were now that you could smell food. “Is it because of the dress?”

 You nodded, swallowing the grape you had tossed into your mouth before responding. “Dresses were not meant to be worn by thieves, Your Highness.”

 He hummed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not sure if I would classify you as a thief, my lady. I personally find the term ‘vigilante’ more suitable.”

 You paused, the piece of chocolate bread that you had pinched off frozen halfway to your mouth. You set it down, narrowing your eyes at Taehyun. “What do you know about me?”

 He smiled, taking a sip from his own teacup. “I know what I’ve heard. You are Y/N, the greatest thief throughout all of Glacies—some would even say throughout all the Five Kingdoms. You know this kingdom like the palm of your hand, and you’re extremely good at not getting caught. Unless, of course, you find yourself in my home.”

 You scowled, looking away from him as your cheeks grew warm.

 He laughed for a moment, but his tone grew quieter when he spoke again. “I also know that you almost never steal for self-gain. You take for yourself what is necessary for survival, but the rest of your plunders go to the starving and impoverished people of our kingdom. You take from those who have more than enough and give to those who having nothing at all.”

 To say you were speechless would have been an understatement. You were under the impression that the prince despised his people, just as his father and grandfather had before him. But now you were to believe that he knew of your existence, long before you had even made an attempt to steal the crown?

 You poked at the food on your plate, your appetite suddenly gone as your mind churned with questions.

 “Well, since you seem to know so much about me, allow me to inquire about yourself, Your Highness,” you said, setting your fork down and folding your hands in your lap.

 He nodded with unabashed enthusiasm, scooting forward in his seat. “Of course. Ask me anything.”

 You held up three fingers. “I have three questions. One—what happened when I tried to touch the crown last night?”

 “Ah,” he said, tapping his fingers against the table. “Well, as you’re well aware, my grandfather channeled all of the kingdom’s magic into that crown. It’s the most powerful object throughout all the kingdom.”

“Yes, that’s why I’m here.”

 He nodded, pressing his lips together. “Well, when my grandfather had the great spell cast upon the crown, it also came with a protective curse. Only those with royal blood flowing through their veins are able to touch the crown, and anyone else who attempts to do so . . . well.” He gestured to your neck, where the magic cut had sliced through your skin. “You saw what happens.”

 “And you have healing powers, apparently,” you said, running your hands against the smooth skin of your neck, double checking just to make sure that no trace of the injury was left there.

 “Not exactly. Because all of the kingdom’s magic is held within the crown, I have access to all the ice magic in the kingdom,” Taehyun explained. “Healing just happens to be one of those powers, among ice manipulation, the ability to turn things into ice, control of the snowstorms, the power to generate snowstorms, the power to plant things in frozen ground. . . you get the picture, I assume. Because of the overwhelming amount of capabilities I’ve been granted due to my grandfather’s spell, I’m not sure what my actual ability is.”

 You nodded once, slowly, trying to keep up with the influx of information. You put one of your fingers down, then said, “Question two. I know you’re the Ice Prince, but why in all the five kingdoms is it absolutely freezing in here? Can’t we start a fire or something for a bit of warmth?”

 Taehyun laughed, although you struggled to see what was so funny as a shiver went up your spine. “Another lovely perk of the crown’s magic; because my entire being is so reliant upon its powers, I’m quite weak on my own. My body temperature can’t go above a certain degree, or I’ll perish. So I’m afraid we must keep it quite cold in here for the time being.”

 “It seems like this crown is doing you more harm than good,” You muttered, slightly disappointed by his answer as you were hoping to garner a bit of extra warmth. You shook it off, putting another finger down and leaving only one remaining up in the air. “Last question. Why do you want to help us, and why am I the right person to help you?”

 “That’s two questions in one, isn’t it?”

 You rolled your eyes, and Taehyun quickly wiped the teasing smirk off his face, his expression growing grim as he prepared to answer your final question—or questions, as the prince had been so kind to point out.

 “I know it doesn’t compare to the pain that the rest of our people have gone through—yourself included—but the crown’s spell has done more harm than good for my family as well,” Taehyun said.

 “How so?” You asked.

 “As I explained before, those of us with royal blood are incredibly reliant upon the crown,” he began. “Because of this, we aren’t able to be far from it, or we become incredibly weak, and eventually, we will die.”

 Your eyes went wide at that, your mind racing. You hadn’t thought of the possibility that the crown could be harming the royal family at all, especially not in such a deadly way. “So, have you never left the palace?”

 He shook his head, looking down at his hands. “Not even once.” He sighed, bringing his eyes back up to yours. “My sister left us, a few years after my grandfather died and a few years before my father passed. She fell in love with the stable boy, and they decided to run away. At the time, we knew that we would become weak without the crown. But we didn’t know how weak we would be. Two weeks after their great escape, the stable boy returned. And my sister. . . she was dead. My father had the stable boy put to death immediately upon his return.”

 You covered your mouth with your hand, stifling the gasp that threatened to slip past your lips. The royal family was so isolated from the rest of the kingdom, that none of you had even heard of the princess’ passing.

 “So then, you’ve been alone all this time, since your father passed?” You asked, your voice quiet and careful.

 He nodded, his eyes shining with tears that never fell. “Correct. And that is why, now more than ever, I want to reconnect with the people my family has driven to desolation. I know how harmful it has been for our kingdom since we have kept all of the magic to ourselves. You haven’t been able to farm, to use the magic for yourselves, or even turn the ice into water for necessary use. By hoarding all the magic to ourselves, we have forced our people into poverty. I want to right what we have done wrong. And that is where you come in, my lady.”

 “That’s the second part of my last question,” You said, pushing your plate back so you could lean forward against the table. “Why do you need my help?”

 He smiled, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, the action so rushed you had barely registered its occurrence. “I’ve spent the past two years studying the origins of the spell on the crown. There’s supposedly a cave near the border between Glacies and Terrae where my grandfather traveled to have the spell cast, and in order to break the spell, I have to take it back there. And, according to my sources, nobody in the land knows their way around the caves quite as well as you do.”

 “I’m flattered, although I am quite curious to know who’s been saying such kind words about me behind my back,” you said, wishing you knew who Taehyun had been in communication with that would know of your occupation and skillsets. “So, what I am gathering is this; you want me to guide you to this cave and help you break the spell in order to finally have the magic distributed back into the kingdom?”

 “Precisely. Only if you are willing to do so, of course.”

 It was your turn to smile then as you stood to your feet, extending your hand towards him for a shake. “You needn’t ask me twice, Your Highness. When do we leave?”

 He stood as well, his smile mirroring your own as he took your hand in his and shook it. “We head out first thing tomorrow morning, my lady. Until then, let us prepare. Together.”

 -

 YOU AWOKE THE NEXT MORNING TO THE SOUND OF A CRACKLING FIRE.

 Beneath your face was something warm and soft, but not quite as soft as the pillow you had slept upon the night before. When your eyes fluttered open, you were surprised to see that you had fallen asleep in the drawing room, the map you and Taehyun had spent all day studying spread out on the table before you, and your head resting upon his shoulder.

 You quickly sat up, brushing your hands through your hair in an attempt to fix the wild strands. Taehyun was already awake, smiling at you as you looked away, cheeks growing warm.

 “Did you sleep well?” He asked. It was still early in the morning—so early that the sun had not even risen yet, leaving the room bathed in the predawn darkness.

 You shrugged, daring to look back at him only to see him smirking at you in the dark. “Well enough, I suppose,” you mumbled, your eyes finally landing on the source of the sound you had awoken to. In the corner of the room, Taehyun had gathered a pile of logs and started a small fire atop them, casting a soft orange glow upon the room made of ice. You gasped, turning back towards the prince. Beads of sweat were rolling down his forehead and cheeks, and you noticed that his breaths were much more labored than they had been before.

 “Taehyun, what are you thinking?” You asked, grabbing his arm firmly. “Go put that out. Now.”

 “You were shivering,” He said, refusing to let his eyes meet yours. “I didn’t want to see you suffer. It’s the least I could do after all you have been through because of us—if I can suffer in your place, I will do so gladly.”

 You sighed in exasperation, grasping his hand in your own. He looked at you then, eyes wide from the unexpected contact. “Your Highness, you have been doing everything within your power so far to right what has been wrong for so long. I refuse to let you blame yourself and cause yourself any form of pain for something that has always been out of your control. In order for us to finish this, we must do so together. Now, go put that fire out or I will be forced to find a way to do it myself. And I will have you know that my methods are not usually the safest.”

 He sighed, finally giving in as he raised his hand, a gust of icy wind blowing past your face and killing the fire on the far side of the room. You sighed in relief, giving his hand a squeeze before you let it go.

 “Thank you,” he whispered. “I do not feel as though I deserve your kindness nor your understanding, but I am grateful to be receiving it regardless.”

 “Everyone deserves kindness and understanding, Your Highness. Especially you.”

 After that, the two of you grabbed a quick breakfast from the dining hall and gathered all your supplies from the drawing room before you threw on a thick cloak, allowing Taehyun to lead you out into the snow and to the stables. He introduced you to the reindeer named Atlas that would be pulling your sled, and then led you into the stable where the sled was stored in order for the two of you to finish gathering a few last-minute supplies before you were to head out on your quest.

 While Taehyun began throwing things into the back of the sled, you became distracted by a wall strung with weaponry. A quiver of arrows caught your eye, and you reached up to pull a single arrow out, observing it closely.

 “This looks like something Jake would be interested in,” you mused, twirling the arrow between your fingertips before you set it back in its place. “He’s been trying to improve his archery.”

 Perhaps it was your imagination, but when you looked back at Taehyun, you could have sworn you saw his smile falter, at least for a moment. He shook it off though, throwing a sack of food into the back of the sled before he asked, “So, you and this Jake guy. How long have you been courting?”

 You nearly choked on the stable’s air, throwing your hand against your chest in shock. “I’m sorry, what?”

 He raised a brow, turning to face you fully. “You are courting him, aren’t you? He seemed to be concerned for you in a way that went deeper than friendship, from what I was able to observe.”

 “Oh, please. Jake flirts with anyone who even bats an eye in his direction. We are not in a relationship.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the mere thought. “The only time I ever touch that man is when I’m trying to slap some sense into him—and I mean that quite literally.”

 Taehyun laughed, almost as though he were relieved, while he began to tighten the reins that kept Atlas anchored to the sled. “Would you ever consider courting him? If he asked you to, of course.”

 “He has asked, and I’ve never considered saying anything other than no.” You picked up the pile of blankets one of the servants had left by the sled and lifted it over the edge, making sure they landed right in the middle of the bench where the two of you were to be seated. “He is not my type.”

 Taehyun leaned back against the sled, the slight smirk you had grown accustomed to seeing taking over his features once again. “Well, what exactly is your type, my lady?”

 You went still, not sure why his question made your stomach flutter like a disturbed nest of bluebirds. You had never really given this much thought before, but now that he had asked you, your mind was instantly flooded with thoughts of cold hands and warm smiles, icy eyes and flushed cheeks, strong arms and gentle words.

 You turned away from him before you spoke, trying your best to be nonchalant. “I think I’d like to find someone that I understand more than anyone else. Somebody that the rest of world may see as cold and brittle, but someone I know to be warm and soft on the inside.”

 When there was nothing but silence after your words, you dared to glance back over your shoulder at the prince. Upon doing so, you were more than a little bit happy to see that you had made him just as flustered as he had made you, with his cheeks and nose painted cherry red—and not just from the cold.

 He cleared his throat, biting his lip to keep his smile from being too obvious. “Good to know. If I ever meet someone who I think would meet those standards, I’ll be sure to send them your way.”

 “Oh, please do,” You said, glad that the tense silence was thawing. “And quickly if you don’t mind. The elders in my community remind me at every passing chance that my childbearing years will be over before I know it, since that’s apparently all that matters.”

 That earned an even bigger laugh from him, which caused to you giggle in return. When he smiled at you again, you couldn’t help but lose yourself in his eyes. But who could blame you when they sparkled like freshly fallen snow beneath the morning sunlight?

 “I’ll keep that in mind, my lady.” He hoisted himself into the sled and extended his hand out towards you, his brilliant smile never once falling from his face as he said, “Now, what do you say we go and restore this kingdom to its former glory? I believe it’s long overdue.”

 -

 THE SLEIGH RIDE THROUGH THE KINGDOM HAD BEEN FAIRLY PEACEFUL, FOR THE MOST PART. Taehyun had the reins and was guiding Atlas through the snow-capped mountains while you held the map and directed him, although you could practically navigate your way throughout the kingdom with your eyes closed, no doubt.

 The scenery was beautiful in some ways. Trees weighed down by ice coated branches, casting rainbows across the ground as the sunshine reflected through them. The deep snow covered the ground, coating the entire landscape in a blanket of endless white. You sighed, perhaps a bit too loudly as you gained Taehyun’s attention.

 “What could possibly be weighing so heavy on your mind to earn such a heavy sigh, my lady?”

 You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that took over your lips at his jest. “I’m just tired of all the ice, I suppose. It’s so suffocating. It kills all the beautiful things and leaves us with nothing in return but cold.”

 “That’s not how I see it though,” Taehyun said, holding onto the reins with one hand so he could keep the other around your shoulders, making sure you didn’t fall out of the sled as you crossed over a particularly bumpy patch of ground.

 “What do you mean?” You asked, willing your expression to remain steadfast lest you reveal how flustered you were by Taehyun’s physical contact.

 He smirked, and you cursed yourself internally, knowing that perhaps the faint flush in your cheeks had given you away after all.

 “I mean, I see the ice as more of a new beginning than an ending,” He explained. “Of course, it does freeze everything over for a while, but it thaws eventually. And when it does, everything starts all over again. The rivers start running, the flowers begin to bloom, the animals come out of their sleep. Everything begins again, until it is time to freeze once more.”

 “Well, that sounds nice in theory, my dear prince, but I am afraid there’s something you are forgetting,” You said.

 “And what is that?”

 “This is the Kingdom of Glacies. Well, the version your grandfather created, that is.” The smile fell from your lips. “The ice here never thaws.”

 “Maybe the kingdom is still waiting for its new beginning,” He said. Gently, he grabbed your chin and turned your face towards his. He smiled then, the action alone so bright and warm, you were surprised the snow didn’t melt right off the trees.

 “The kingdom may still be waiting for its new beginning,” He whispered, “But I think I have found mine.”

 You were speechless. Never in a million different lifetimes would you have even dared to imagine the Prince of Glacies saying such sweet words to you. Unsure of how to respond, you cleared your throat and looked away, afraid your face would melt right off at this rate. You heard the sound of rushing water not too far off, and you glanced over to see a small spring beneath a gentle waterfall.

 “We should stop there to let Atlas drink,” you suggested, leaning forward to pet the back of the reindeer. “It would be nice for us to stretch our legs too.”

 Taehyun obliged, leading Atlas over towards the spring. You were more than happy to jump out from the back of the sled and stretch your legs, and the view was nothing short of spectacular. As you drew closer to the border between Glacies and Terrae, there were a few patches of green grass peeking through the snow, and some bodies of water—like this spring—were unfrozen. Seeing the rushing body of water made you think of what Taehyun had said to you just moments ago, and you felt your heart flutter once again.

 You nearly flinched in shock when you felt him slip his fingers between yours, gripping your hand tightly.

 He smiled, running his thumb along the back of your hand. “Care to go for a stroll?”

 You nodded, deciding to push past your nervous feelings by taking the lead and pulling him along behind you. You were both quiet as you walked, taking careful steps over the snowy grass and onto the rocks that led up towards the waterfall. When you reached the fall, you stuck your hand beneath it. It was cold, of course, but you were mesmerized by how it sparkled, dots of the afternoon sun shining through the beads of water. The pressure of the waterfall was fairly low—no stronger than a drizzle of rain. The water first hit the slab of stone that the two of you were standing on before it cascaded down into another, smaller waterfall, which led into the spring that Atlas was drinking from.

 “Do you like it here?” Taehyun asked, watching the way your eyes glowed as you let the water fall between your fingers.

 You looked back at him, smiling brightly. “I love it. Don’t you?”

 He nodded, glancing up at the falls then back at you. “It’s beautiful.”

 He looked down at your hand in his for a moment, and then he gently tugged on it, causing to stumble a few steps closer to him. You raised a brow, clearly confused, but didn’t pull away.

 “How about here?” He asked.

 You nodded slowly, narrowing your eyes. “Sure. I like it here as well.”

 He swallowed, gathering all the courage from every corner of his soul before he took a step forward, closing the gap between the two of you, his free hand coming up to cradle your jaw while he kept the other tightly intertwined with your own.

 Your eyes were wide, lips parted in shock, but you made no moves to distance yourself from him. Slowly, he brushed his thumb along your bottom lip, lowering his face towards yours so that he could feel your breath against his own mouth.

 “And here?” He whispered, his eyes meeting yours. “Do you like it here?”

 When you nodded once again in answer to his hushed question, he wasted no time in diminishing the space left between the two of you to gently press his lips against your own.

 His lips worked against yours perfectly as you allowed your eyes to fall shut, letting your hand fall from his grasp so you could hold his neck in your palms, your fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of his neck. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into him as his kiss grew deeper and you followed along, tilting your head to better match your lips with the pace of his.

 When he pulled away from you abruptly and rested his forehead against your shoulder, you knew right away that something was wrong. He was breathing deeply, his hands clutching the fabric of your dress. You cupped his cheeks in your hands and lifted his face to yours, seeing how red his cheeks, nose, and ears had gotten.

 “Taehyun? What’s wrong?”

 He let out a shaky breath, his eyes still closed, his chest still heaving. “I’m—I’m sorry. I can’t kiss you, it’s too—I’m getting too warm.”

 Your heart sank as you continued to hold his face in your hands, racking your brain for ideas. The sound of the waterfall rushing behind you filled your ears, and you glanced over your shoulder, biting your lip as an idea popped into your head.

 Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, you carefully walked backwards until you felt the ice cold water cascade over your head and down your back, stopping once you and Taehyun were both standing fully beneath the waterfall.

 His eyes were wide, and he was slowly beginning to stand up straighter, his face growing less and less warm beneath your skin as the moments passed by.

 “What are you doing?” He asked, nearly shouting to be heard above the light rush of water.

 You smiled, pushing back pieces of his hair that the water had plastered to his forehead, only for them to fall right back into place.

 “Why would you ask a question with such an obvious answer, Your Highness? I’m about to kiss you.”

 He seemed to be in shock, but before he could utter out a single word in reply, you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him once more beneath the cascade of icy water, the feeling of his lips against your own giving you more than enough warmth in the core of your soul.

 -

 IT DIDN’T TAKE YOU LONG TO REACH THE CAVE WHERE THE LATE KING HAD FIRST CAST THE SPELL THAT RUINED THE LAND OF GLACIES. You had set back out on the road shortly after your somewhat extended rest stop, and by following the map closely, you arrived at the mouth of a cave with icicles hanging from the top and also sticking up from the ground. It looked much like the mouth of a great beast. It was too dangerous to try and bring Atlas inside with you, so Taehyun tied him and the sled to a nearby tree. He grabbed the bag that held the crown inside of it in one hand and then made his way to your side.

 “Are you ready?” Whether his question was directed towards you or himself, you couldn’t be sure. Regardless, you took his hand in yours and gave it a squeeze.

 “I am ready when you are, Your Highness.”

 He smiled before he took the first step into the cave, carefully sliding between two spires of ice and gently pulling you along behind him. The cave didn’t go on for very long, and there was no need for you to bring a lantern along with you, as the daylight that spilled in through the entrance was more than enough to light your way.

 When you reached the end of the shallow cave, a large pedestal made of stone was waiting for you. It was surrounded by a perfectly round back wall, with ancient texts inscribed on the walls. You weren’t able to decipher them, but you made your way towards the pedestal, your hand still locked with Taehyun’s.

 A large black scorch mark in the shape of a sharp snowflake tainted the surface of the pedestal. Atop it rested a tattered and torn piece of tan paper, also written in a language you were unable to read. You slowly picked it up and handed it to Taehyun. “Can you read this?”

 He nodded, squinting his eyes a bit before he read the words written on the page.

 “To seize the power given to all, you must first destroy the treasure within. To restore the treasure within your soul, you must then destroy your everything.”

 As soon as the words had left Taehyun’s lift, a violent, howling wind burst through the room. It blew with so much force that your hand was ripped from Taehyun’s, and you were thrown back against the stone wall of the cave. Taehyun was blown to the side opposite of you, and the crown fell from his grasp, landing near your feet. For some reason, the crown didn’t seem to be affected by the wind, as it remained stationary.

 “What’s going on?” You shouted, gripping at a spire of ice nearby to keep from being blown right out of the cave. Bits of sleet and snow were pricking at your skin, the chilling air feeling sharper than the blade of ice Taehyun had held against your neck just days before.

 “I don’t know,” He shouted back, gripping a rock that protruded from his side of the cave. “We need to decipher what was written down on that paper—that must be how we are to break the spell!”

 The words scribbled onto the page flashed through your mind.

 To seize the power given to all, you must first destroy the treasure within. This was obviously referring to the spell itself—the one cast by Taehyun’s grandfather. In order to steal the magic from the rest of his subjects, he had to sacrifice the most valuable power of all—his humanity.

 To restore the treasure within your soul, you must then destroy your everything.

 What had been everything to the late king?

 His power.

 His crown.

 “Taehyun!” You shouted, daring to hold on to the spire with one hand in order to point at the crown by your feet, which still remained unmoving amidst the magical storm. “The crown—you must destroy it!”

 He tried to stand, but was instantly knocked back on his rear, desperately grasping back onto the rock that kept him anchored. “I cannot make it over there to retrieve it!”

 You bit your lip, glancing between Taehyun and the crown only for a moment before you made up your mind. You knew what you had to do.

 “Y/N,” Taehyun warned, catching on to what you were about to do. “Y/N, don’t—!”

 It was too late. You used your boot to pull the crown towards you before you grasped it in your fist. Pain shot through every inch of your being—beginning in your neck, then spreading through your chest and your legs, to the tips of your fingers and the bottoms of your toes, piercing through you like the sharpest bite of frost. You cried out in pain, over the noise of Taehyun screaming for you to put it down, before you mustered up every last bit of strength within you to lurch the crown towards the prince.

 He caught it with one hand, his heart racing as he saw you fall limp to the ground, the wind battering and blowing your unconscious form around like a lone leaf in the winter’s wind. Tears stung at the back of his eyes, and he glared at the crown in his fist, all the anger and resentment he had felt towards his grandfather over all the years combined with the fear of losing you coming to a peak within him. He channeled every bit of these hostile and fearful emotions into the palm of his hand, where a burst of ice so strong was emitted that it covered the room in a blanket of white, the crown first cracking in his hand before it burst into a million shards, scattering all over the cave floor like pieces of glass.

 The storm died out immediately, and Taehyun felt a rush of energy enter into his body. He felt stronger, healthier, warmer. But none of that mattered to him. Not when you were nearly lifeless on the other side of the cave.

 “Y/N!” He shouted, tripping over his own feet as he sprinted towards you. He collapsed to the ground beside of you, gasping at the sight of blood dripping down your neck and seeping through your clothes.

 “No, no, no,” he whimpered, the tears finally slipping down his cheeks as his hands pressed against your wounds, but there were too many of them for him to cover.

Desperate, he let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes. He knew that he no longer had access to all the powers he once did now that the spell was broken. There was no way for him to know if his healing magic was his true form of magic.

 But he had to try.

 At first, when he tried to omit the soft glow of icy power from his palms, nothing happened. But then, he felt a familiar tickling sensation on the surface of his skin. He opened one eye, then the other, nearly breaking down in sobs of relief as he watched gentle trails of frost travel down your skin, closing all your wounds and erasing any traces of them that would normally be left behind.

 When the last cut had disappeared, your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled at him.

 “Well done, your highness. You’ve broken the curse.”

He grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you upright, crushing you against him in a hug.

 “Never do anything like that ever again,” He muttered against your ear, squeezing you even tighter. “I thought I lost you.”

 “You cannot get rid of me that easily, Your Highness,” you teased, pulling away just enough so you could look into his eyes. “Besides, I knew that healing magic was your true gift. I knew you would save me.”

 “And how exactly did you know that, my lady?”

 You pecked him on the nose, giggling at how red it turned afterwards. “Because you are a kind and good prince, Taehyun. And you will make a wonderful, healing king.”

 “What about you?” He asked. “We should see what ice power you have been gifted.”

 You hesitated, gently holding one of your hands out in front of you. Your brows knit together, and Taehyun laughed at the expression before he placed his hand beneath yours.

 “Feel the energy running through your veins,” He said. “Let the magic guide you.”

 Nothing happened for the first few moments. But then, one by one, snowflakes began to fall, seemingly from out of nowhere. Soon, you held a tiny snowstorm in the palm of your hand. You gasped, eyes glowing with excitement.

 “It worked,” You said, staring at what you had created in awe before you allowed it to die down.  You then cupped his cheeks in your hands, leaning closer towards him.

 “How does it feel to finally be free? What is the first thing you would like to do now?” You asked.

 He couldn’t take his eyes from your face, his thumbs tracing invisible lines across your cheeks and your jaw, occasionally slipping over your lips. “The first thing? Simple; I want to make you my queen.”

 You coughed, but remained fairly unphased by his forwardness as you responded with, “Although that is something you could have done without breaking the spell, I am quite fond of the idea. Yet, I have one even better than that—how about we instead dissolve the monarchy together?”

 He laughed at that, brushing his hands through your hair before cradling your jaw once more. “One step at a time, princess. We can talk about that later. But what about you? What are you most excited about now that the kingdom has been restored?”

 You smiled then, not having to take long at all to think of your answer. “As wonderful as having newfound magical abilities may be, my prince, the most wonderful thing about breaking this spell is that I am now able to kiss you wherever I please—without having to stand beneath a freezing waterfall.”

 This time, when you leaned forward to capture his lips with yours, Taehyun gladly welcomed the warmth that rushed to his cheeks. And as he kissed you, he was sure that all the warmth that spread throughout him was enough to heat the entire kingdom, so much so that he dared to imagine that the eternal ice of the Kingdom of Glacies would finally begin to thaw.

[urfavmaknae]

As If You're Mine Pt. 1

PART 2

pairing: bestfriend!taehyun x fem!reader, non idol au

genre: fake dating, best friends to lovers, one sided love, slowburn

summary: in which two best friends fake a relationship to dodge an arranged marriage — but he’s already in love with her, and she’s too dumb to notice..

w/c: 9.5k

warnings!!!: slight family pressure and false expectations

a/n: dude it wont let me post the whole thing so ive had to split it and ill post the rest in like an hour

ive always loved this type of trope so i tried to be as detailed as i could but i have a habit of losing track where i am and i cringe rereading my work. btw my oc is always unnamed so it can be read as a y/n if u want which is why i left a blank at her mums name

Your mum always had a way of talking about your future like it was a group project she’d been forced into managing.

You were twenty-three, but to her, that meant you were already behind. Not engaged, not partnered, not even seeing anyone “with promise.” No LinkedIn-approved soulmate, no degrees being merged via marriage, no grandchildren on the timeline.

So when she sat across from you at the family dinner table tonight — hair perfectly set, eyes just a little too expectant — and said, “Your cousin just got engaged. Isn't that exciting? You know, if you’re not seeing anyone by next month, we might have someone in mind for you…”

You didn’t think. You didn’t plan.

You just smiled.

And lied.

“I have a boyfriend,” you said.

You said it like a joke. Light, easy, like it had slipped out on a laugh.

But no one laughed with you.

Your mum blinked. Your uncle raised his eyebrows. Your cousin paused with her wine glass mid-air.

Then your aunt leaned forward, wide-eyed and smug: “You do? How come we’ve never met him?”

You swallowed. “He’s… shy. Private.”

“He must be something, if you’re finally dating someone seriously.”

You shrugged, mouth dry. “He’s great.”

“Bring him next weekend,” your mum said, smiling too calmly. “You can introduce him at the engagement party. We’ll make space.”

You nodded.

And then you bolted.

You don’t really remember the walk home. You barely remembered grabbing your coat, mumbling a “Sorry, I’ve got work early,” and stepping into the hallway with your heartbeat in your mouth.

It wasn’t until you were three blocks from your parents’ place, wind needling through your sleeves, that your brain caught up with your mouth.

You’d lied.

You’d said you were in a relationship. A serious one. With a boyfriend. Who did not exist.

And next weekend, you’d have to prove it.

By the time you unlocked your apartment and stepped inside, the panic had turned physical — legs shaking, chest tight, fingers stiff from the cold and the chaos of your own impulse control.

Your door clicked shut behind you and you immediately kicked your boots off, dropped your coat, and said it aloud before you even saw him.

“I did something completely fucking insane.”

There was the quiet hum of the TV from the living room. Taehyun’s voice followed — calm, mildly amused: “That bad?”

You rounded the corner and found him on the couch, one leg up, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows and a half-eaten box of cereal on his lap. The glow of some nature documentary lit up his face in soft blues and golds.

You didn’t answer. You just stared at him for a second, caught in that strange calm he always wore like a second skin.

Then you groaned, face crumpling, and collapsed sideways onto the couch beside him.

He didn't even flinch. Just moved the cereal box to the floor and shifted slightly to give you space.

“I lied,” you mumbled into a throw pillow.

He raised an eyebrow. “About?”

You pulled the pillow tighter. “My love life.”

“…Okay.”

“My nonexistent love life.”

“Ah.”

There was a pause.

Then Taehyun leaned back, casual, as if this wasn’t already spiraling into chaos.

“Want to start from the beginning?”

You sat up slowly, hair mussed, heart still slamming against your ribs.

“They cornered me. My mum and my aunt. Cousin’s getting married and apparently I’m next in line to be emotionally suffocated into blissful matrimony. They had this whole tone — like they were prepping me.”

“And you panicked,” he said, already filling in the blanks.

“I lied. I said I had a boyfriend.” You groaned again, louder this time. “Like a full-on, thriving, healthy relationship.”

He blinked. “You don’t.”

“Thank you, Taehyun.”

“Well, just clarifying for context.”

You gave him a look. “I don’t know what happened. It just came out. I was thinking about the panic I’d feel going on a blind date with someone my mum chose and then suddenly—bam. I had a boyfriend. He’s amazing. I’m so happy. We’re in love.”

Taehyun’s mouth twitched.

“I didn’t name him,” you clarified quickly. “But then they asked to meet him. Next week. At the engagement dinner.”

Silence.

He looked at you, thoughtful. “You said yes.”

“What was I supposed to do?! I couldn't backpedal and say I made him up. That just makes it worse. So now I have six days to produce a fake boyfriend with an actual face and plausible history.”

He was quiet for a second. And then, softly:

“…I could do it.”

You blinked. “Do what?”

“I’ll be your boyfriend.”

You stared at him.

Taehyun. Your best friend. Your Taehyun. The guy who knew all your secrets and your irrational fears and the way you cut your sandwiches diagonally because your mum used to do that when you were sad. The guy who left soup on your doorstep when you were sick and texted you just to say the sunset looked good and “go outside before you miss it.”

You swallowed. “You’re not serious.”

“I am,” he said, still easy. “You need someone, right? Someone who won’t flake or make it weird. Someone your family won’t hate. I already know them. They like me.”

“You want to pretend to be in a relationship with me,” you said slowly, “to help me avoid an arranged marriage.”

He smiled. “What are best friends for, if not to fake love you in front of your extended family?”

You couldn’t tell if it was a joke. You couldn’t tell if it was a lie.

Your heart twisted a little in your chest.

“…This is insane,” you said.

“Probably,” he said. “But it’s also temporary. Just until the pressure dies down. Then you can ‘break up’ with me and tell your mum I couldn’t commit or something.”

You frowned. “So you’d be the one who gets blamed?”

He shrugged. “I can take a hit.”

Your hands were starting to shake a little. “Tae, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said simply.

And that was the problem.

You sat in silence for a moment.

The TV murmured softly in the background. Something about migratory birds.

Taehyun watched you like he always did — quiet, steady, unreadable if you didn’t know him like you did.

You pressed your fingers to your temples. “What would we even say? What’s our backstory?”

He smiled, slow. “We’ve been friends for years. Started dating a few months ago. Realised we were catching feelings after that camping trip last spring.”

“I didn’t even go on a camping trip.”

“They don’t know that.”

You gave him a look.

He grinned. “We can keep it simple. I’ll let you lead. I just show up, hold your hand, look at you like I’m crazy about you.”

Your breath caught.

He said it so casually. Like it meant nothing.

Like he hadn’t just cracked something open with one sentence.

You stood up suddenly, needing to move.

“I don’t want this to ruin anything.”

He tilted his head. “Ruin what?”

“Us,” you said, too fast. “Like—our friendship. I know we joke about stuff, but this is… it’s a little intimate. I don’t want to cross a line and not be able to go back.”

He looked at you carefully.

“Nothing’s gonna change,” he said. “Not unless you want it to.”

You nodded, but your throat was tight.

Because you weren’t sure if you believed that.

He left later that night with a casual “Text me the details,” and a soft pat to your head that lingered just a second too long.

And when the door clicked shut behind him, you stood in the silence of your apartment, heart aching in ways you didn’t quite know how to name.

Because if this was fake, it should’ve felt easy. Funny.

But it didn’t.

It felt like something had shifted. Like something very real had just begun.

And you weren’t sure what scared you more — the lie you’d told your family, or the truth you’d just started to feel.

You told yourself it was fine.

That it was one dinner. One lie. One week of pretending Taehyun was yours in a way he never really had been. And then things would go back to normal.

But that was before he texted you the next morning with:

TAEHYUN [9:12 AM] we should plan outfits what’s our vibe. coordinated neutrals? romantic and timeless? power couple in black?

And then followed it up with:

TAEHYUN [9:13 AM] also: am i allowed to touch your waist in front of your mum or is that too scandalous

And somehow, even through text, your heart had the audacity to stutter.

You hadn’t told anyone else. Not even your roommate, who was conveniently out of town for the week. You didn’t want to say it aloud again — didn’t want to have to explain how this started, or what it meant, or why you hadn’t thought to pick literally anyone else to fake-date.

Taehyun made it too easy. That was the problem.

You’d been friends with him for years. Met in undergrad. Survived finals together. Shared playlists, late-night ramen, heartbreaks. He was the one who always walked you home, who bought two of everything at the store just in case you were having a bad day.

He knew your favorite mug. He knew how you liked your eggs. He knew you.

So pretending to date him?

Terrifying.

Because what if it started to feel real?

The next time you saw him, it was for “practice.”

You’d texted him late the night before.

YOU [11:24 PM] okay maybe we should go over some stories or something like how we met idk what couples do in front of family lol

His reply had come instantly.

TAEHYUN [11:25 PM] cool cool let’s rehearse our epic love i’ll bring snacks

He showed up the next day in his usual grey hoodie, sleeves pushed up, expression too casual to be harmless.

You were already regretting everything.

You sat across from each other on your living room rug, an open bag of chips between you and a Google Doc titled “Lies to Make Us Believable” open on your laptop.

He grinned when he saw the document title.

“You really said spreadsheet-level deception.”

You threw a pillow at him.

“Okay,” you said, tapping your laptop. “Backstory. We met… how?”

He shrugged. “College. Orientation week.”

“No, that’s real.”

“Exactly. Easy to remember.”

You frowned. “Too easy. Your mum already knows that story, doesn’t she?”

He tilted his head. “True. Okay. How about… we reconnected after college. Ran into each other at a cafe.”

You typed it in. “Cute.”

“And you spilled coffee on me. Again. Very on-brand.”

You laughed. “Rude, but accurate.”

He smirked. “You felt bad. Apologised. Offered to pay for my drink. I said no, but made you sit with me while I finished it.”

“And then I fell in love with you because you were charming and patient and totally not annoying at all.”

“Exactly.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, so… timeline? How long have we been together?”

“Six months?”

“Feels safe. Long enough to seem serious, short enough that they won’t ask why they didn’t know sooner.”

He nodded. “Our first date was in May. You wore that white shirt you like.”

Your fingers paused over the keyboard. “I didn’t tell you that.”

“I remember,” he said simply.

It was starting to get harder to look at him directly.

The thing with Taehyun was, he never tried to sound sincere — he just was. Effortless. Calm. But every now and then, he’d say something with that little tilt to his head and that soft, unreadable look in his eyes, and it felt like being seen too much.

Like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“Okay,” you said, blinking. “So we’ve got the timeline. What else will they ask?”

Taehyun leaned back on his hands, fingers spread against the rug. “Pet names.”

Your stomach flipped. “What?”

He smiled, teasing. “Do I call you babe, or sweetheart, or do we go full K-drama and I call you jagiya in front of your aunt?”

You choked on air.

“Relax,” he said, laughing. “We don’t need to rehearse that. But we should figure out our comfort zone for PDA.”

You gave him a look. “Comfort zone?”

He scooted closer, just slightly. “They’re gonna expect us to touch. Be affectionate. So… hand-holding?”

You held out your hand, palm up. “Go for it.”

He took it easily — warm, steady, familiar. Like it was second nature.

You frowned. “This doesn’t feel fake at all.”

“Good,” he said, not letting go. “That’s the point.”

You ignored the way your skin tingled. “Okay, what about… like… an arm around the waist?”

He hesitated. “Wanna try it?”

You swallowed. “Yeah. For science.”

You stood. He followed.

He stepped closer — not touching you yet, just watching your face.

Then his hand slid lightly around your waist, fingers splayed. Gentle. Slow.

Your breath hitched.

“This okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded.

He pulled you in just a little, enough that your bodies aligned — close enough to feel his warmth, the shift of his chest when he breathed.

You didn’t look up.

“Okay,” you said, voice slightly higher than usual. “That’s fine.”

He stepped back. “Cool.”

You immediately sat down.

You were going to die.

Later, when he left — after you’d ordered takeout and gone through every fake milestone in your fictional relationship, from meeting each other’s parents (he said your mum scared him in the best way) to your imaginary anniversary (May 12th, apparently) — he hugged you goodbye like he always did.

Except this time, his hand lingered on your back for a moment longer. And this time, when he said, “We’ve got this,” …you almost believed it.

The next morning, your cousin Eunchae texted you.

EUNCHAE [8:02 AM] is it true?? ur bringing a BOYFRIEND to the engagement party??? 😭😭😭

You groaned and threw your phone across the bed.

You were in so much trouble.

By the time Saturday rolled around, you had two group chats muted, one drafted excuse saved in your notes app, and three separate scenarios rehearsed in the mirror in case you needed to fake food poisoning.

And yet, despite it all, you found yourself standing in your bedroom, in front of a half-zipped dress, with your phone buzzing on the nightstand.

TAEHYUN [5:06 PM]

here in 5 don’t panic u look good when you panic anyway

You stared at the screen.

Then tossed it face down on the bed and swore under your breath.

He’d offered to pick you up, of course. Said it would “sell the image” if you arrived together. Said he’d drive. Said he had a playlist. Said he was taking this very seriously.

You’d laughed then, unsure why your heart fluttered.

You were not laughing now.

Now, you were standing in front of the mirror with your dress only halfway zipped, hair curled in soft waves, and your face wearing that I might be about to lie to an entire room of people about my relationship status expression.

Cute.

The knock came exactly five minutes later.

You padded barefoot to the door, hesitated — then opened it.

And forgot how to breathe.

Taehyun stood there in a white button-up, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, black slacks, hair pushed back but still soft at the edges. No tie. No jacket. Just clean lines and the kind of quiet confidence that made your stomach twist.

His eyes swept over you once, then paused.

“You’re not wearing shoes,” he said.

“You’re not wearing a soul,” you muttered. “You look like a boyfriend Pinterest board.”

He smiled — slowly, knowingly — and stepped inside. “You look—” A pause. His eyes flickered down to your dress, still unzipped at the side. “Almost ready?”

You turned on your heel. “Ignore me.”

“Impossible,” he said lightly, and followed.

You stood by the mirror, fussing with your earrings. He leaned against the doorframe, watching you like he wasn’t watching you.

“I can zip it,” he said casually, like it wasn’t a line.

You blinked at him in the mirror.

“It’s just—” You gestured vaguely. “Kind of a struggle.”

“Turn around,” he said.

You did.

Carefully. Slowly.

His fingers were warm as they slid the zipper up — slow, smooth, careful not to touch skin unless necessary.

But it was necessary. It was so fucking necessary.

The moment his knuckles brushed your spine, you stopped breathing.

The sound of the zipper felt deafening in the quiet.

“There,” he murmured.

You didn’t turn around.

“Thanks,” you said, too fast.

You caught his eyes in the mirror. He was already looking away.

The car ride was… fine.

You told yourself it was fine.

You sat in the passenger seat with your hands folded too neatly in your lap, legs crossed at the ankle, trying not to overthink the way he kept glancing at you during red lights.

“So,” he said at one point, “how do I rate?”

You blinked. “What?”

“As a fake boyfriend.” He grinned. “Am I convincing? Charming? Does your mother already think I’m planning to propose?”

You looked out the window. “You’re not even inside yet.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t get cocky.”

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Too late.”

The venue was a rooftop restaurant, rented out for the occasion. Fairy lights lined the banisters. Gold accents everywhere. Your cousin Eunchae’s taste was nothing if not loudly elegant.

People were already gathered when you arrived — dressed to the nines, flutes of champagne in hand, conversations bubbling like the drinks.

Taehyun offered his hand to help you out of the car.

You hesitated — then took it.

His hand was steady. Warm. Too steady.

You didn’t let go until you were inside.

Your mother spotted you first.

And immediately made her way over with that terrifyingly pleased smile.

“Darling,” she beamed. “And Taehyun! You look so handsome.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. ___.” He let go of your hand — only to slip his arm around your waist instead. Casual. Confident. As if he did it every day.

Your mother noticed. Her smile widened. You tried not to combust.

“How lovely to finally meet you,” she said. “Properly, I mean.”

“Been meaning to make a good impression,” he said smoothly. “Hope I’m passing.”

“Oh, more than passing,” she said, practically glowing.

You wanted to disappear.

The evening passed in a blur.

Introductions. Smiles. Laughter that felt a little too sharp around the edges.

Taehyun held your hand under the table. Touched your knee once — brief, reassuring. Told your aunt the story of how you reconnected in a café, added just the right amount of detail. How he had never planned to fall for you. How he couldn’t imagine not loving you now.

You didn’t breathe for a full minute.

At one point, your cousin Eunchae slid into the seat beside you with a glass of soda and a smile that was 95% suspicious delight.

“So,” she whispered, “you’re in love.”

You blinked. “I—what?”

She sipped her drink. “Don’t even try it. You’re in love. And he’s in love with you.”

Your mouth opened. Nothing came out.

She leaned in. “I’m so happy for you,” she said, and she meant it — too much, too sincerely.

You wanted to cry.

Later, someone snapped a photo of you and Taehyun by the window.

Your head on his shoulder. His hand on your waist. The city behind you, golden and blurred.

You didn’t realise how close you were until you heard him exhale — quiet, soft, the kind of sound people don’t usually hear unless they’re paying attention.

“You okay?” you whispered.

He looked at you.

For a second — just one — he didn’t answer.

Then he smiled. “You’re doing great.”

You said goodbye to your relatives with fake promises to catch up soon.

Your mother kissed your cheek. Your uncle clapped Taehyun on the back and said, “You’ve got a good one there.”

Taehyun just smiled. Like he didn’t know what that was doing to you.

You didn’t speak again until you were back in the car.

The silence stretched.

He didn’t turn the music on.

You stared out the window, hands folded in your lap again, and felt something in your chest shift. Uneasy. Tight.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded.

But you weren’t sure you were.

“You were amazing,” you said after a moment, trying to sound normal.

He glanced at you. “You don’t have to say that.”

“No, seriously. You were. My mum’s probably planning our wedding now.”

He smiled faintly. “Do we send out invites?”

You rolled your eyes. “Only to people who didn’t make me lie about my personal life.”

He laughed, low and warm.

And for a second, you hated how nice it felt. How easy.

Back at your apartment, he walked you to the door like a goddamn gentleman.

You turned to face him, keys in hand, trying not to look at his mouth.

“Thanks again,” you said. “For doing all this.”

He shrugged. “Any time.”

You smiled. “You’re a good friend.”

Something flickered in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

You looked at him a second longer. Something coiled tight in your chest.

You opened the door. “Night, Tae.”

“Night.”

You stepped inside.

And closed the door.

And leaned back against it like you were drowning.

The group chat was unhinged by morning.

You woke to seventy-three unread messages, four photos, and three voice notes.

EUNCHAE [12:17 AM]

i KNEW it the way he looked at u during that story?? cinematic. netflix-core. ur wedding’s gonna be so pretty i’ll cry like a little bit but still

YURA [12:31 AM]

wait HOLD ON. since WHEN have y’all been dating no offense but??? you kept that so quiet?? was this a SLOWBURN IRL?? was it ENEMIES TO LOVERS????

MIN [12:49 AM]

i need the tea first date details tell me he made the first move tell me he’s the jealous type tell me you KISS FOR REAL

You buried your face in your pillow.

You didn’t text Taehyun.

You didn’t know what to say.

Because the photos were everywhere. Eunchae had posted one. Your aunt had sent one to your mum’s family group chat. One had somehow ended up on Facebook, where your high school art teacher commented “So happy for you, sweetheart! ❤️”

And the comments were all the same:

“You two look perfect together.” “He looks at you like you hung the moon.” “When’s the real wedding?”

Real.

That was the word that kept echoing.

You did everything you could to avoid overthinking it. You did the dishes. You answered emails. You went to the store for almond milk and left with a loaf of sourdough and a headache. You even tried to nap.

It didn’t work.

Because every time you blinked, you saw his hand on your waist. His arm around your shoulder. The way he looked at you when you weren’t speaking — like he already knew what you were going to say.

Like he wanted you to say it.

It was almost 9 p.m. when your doorbell buzzed.

You weren’t expecting anyone.

You padded to the door in fuzzy socks and a hoodie and cracked it open.

Taehyun stood on the other side, hair still messy from the wind, bag of food in one hand and something unreadable in his expression.

“I brought japchae,” he said. “And kimchi pancakes. And ice cream, obviously.”

You blinked. “That’s… a lot of food.”

He shrugged. “You didn’t text back. Thought you might be spiraling.”

You hesitated.

Then stepped aside.

You didn’t talk about it immediately.

You curled up on the couch with food containers balanced on your knees and a reality show playing low on the TV. Taehyun ate like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn’t just spent the night pretending to love you so well that your cousin cried about it.

It was half an hour before either of you said a word about it.

“You saw the posts,” you mumbled eventually, poking at your noodles.

“Hard to miss,” he said.

A beat.

“They’re really convinced,” you added quietly.

He didn’t answer.

You glanced over.

He was watching you — not sharply, not dramatically. Just… watching.

“Do you regret it?” you asked.

His eyes flickered. “Do you?”

You looked back down at your food. “No. Not really.”

Another beat. Longer this time.

“Was it too much?” he asked softly. “At the dinner.”

You shook your head. “No. You were perfect. It was me.”

“You weren’t—”

“I was,” you cut in, voice cracking a little. “I didn’t realise how real it would feel.”

He exhaled. Quiet. Almost careful.

“Yeah,” he said eventually. “Me neither.”

You didn’t know what to do with that.

You didn’t know what to do with the way your chest was tightening, the way your hands were suddenly too still in your lap, the way the word “real” sat between you both like it meant more than it should.

You reached for the ice cream instead.

“Strawberry,” you said. “My favorite fake boyfriend really does know me.”

He smiled at that — small, almost sad. “Always have.”

After dinner, you cleaned up in silence.

It wasn’t awkward. Not exactly.

Just heavier than it had ever been before.

And maybe that was what scared you most.

Because silence between you two used to be light. Comfortable. Familiar. You’d sat on this couch a hundred times before, legs touching, eyes on the TV, brains half off — and it never felt like this.

This felt like waiting.

Like something was about to happen.

Like something already had.

He stayed until close to midnight.

You walked him to the door without thinking.

He turned, hand still on the knob.

“Hey,” he said, voice quiet. “If it ever gets to be too much…”

You looked up.

“I can pull back,” he said. “We can say we broke up. You don’t have to do this forever.”

You stared at him, something stuck in your throat.

Then: “Is it too much for you?”

His eyes searched yours.

“No,” he said. “That’s the problem.”

You didn’t sleep that night.

You stared at the ceiling, heart thudding, brain looping over the dinner, the couch, the sound of his voice when he said “That’s the problem.”

You were supposed to be faking.

So why did it feel like you weren’t?

The next morning, you found yourself staring at your phone again.

You typed out a message. Deleted it. Typed it again.

YOU [9:42 AM] wanna hang out today?

His reply came in two minutes.

TAEHYUN [9:44 AM] always

You met in the park.

Not on purpose — not for photos, not for pretending. Just… to exist.

You sat on a bench and talked about everything but the obvious. You laughed. You people-watched. He let you steal fries from his takeout container and made fun of your gross sauce-to-potato ratio.

And for a little while, it felt easy again.

Until he reached for your hand — casually, like he always did — and your stomach flipped like it had something to say about it.

“Still pretending?” you asked lightly.

He looked at your fingers in his. “Don’t know.”

“Do you want to stop?”

He was quiet for too long.

“No,” he said finally. “I don’t.”

And that was when you realised — neither of you had any idea where the lie ended anymore.

The next time you saw him, it was because of Eunchae.

Or technically, because of your aunt, who was throwing a birthday brunch and demanded your presence. Eunchae texted you first.

EUNCHAE [9:16 AM]

pls tell me u and ur man are coming today i’m wearing a sundress. don’t let me down.

You groaned.

You hadn’t seen Taehyun since the park. That moment — that quiet little maybe — was still sitting behind your ribs like a secret too delicate to touch.

But you texted him anyway.

YOU [9:22 AM] family brunch. aunt’s place. we’re apparently required.

He replied almost instantly.

TAEHYUN [9:22 AM] what are u wearing we must coordinate we’re a brand now

He arrived ten minutes early, of course.

Wearing a muted navy button-down and jeans. Soft cologne. Bare wrists.

You were in a cream skirt and sweater, and when you opened the door, he gave you a once-over that made your knees threaten to give out.

“Well look at us,” he said, grinning. “Pinterest strikes again.”

“Stop flirting,” you said.

“You first.”

You tried not to smile. You failed.

The brunch was uneventful, which in your family meant chaotic but not catastrophic. Your aunt insisted on taking a photo of you and Taehyun under the wisteria. He slipped an arm around your waist again like it was nothing. Whispered something stupid that made you laugh just as she clicked the shutter.

Your mum asked if you’d picked a date for Christmas. Your uncle asked if you wanted to join the family trip in January “since you’re practically married now.”

You almost choked on a piece of toast.

Taehyun just smiled.

Afterward, you didn’t want to go home. Not yet.

So you ended up at his place, curled up on opposite sides of the couch, a half-watched movie playing while you both scrolled aimlessly on your phones.

It felt too comfortable.

Too dangerous.

“You realise,” you said at some point, “we’ve now been fake dating for two family events.”

He didn’t look up. “Historic.”

“And your hand has touched my waist more times this week than in the past four years combined.”

He finally looked at you. “Not complaining.”

You blinked.

He raised an eyebrow, unbothered.

You stared at the ceiling. “We should probably… rehearse more.”

Taehyun tilted his head. “Rehearse?”

“For the next event. You know. Just in case.”

A beat.

“You want to kiss me.”

Your whole body short-circuited.

“I didn’t say—”

“You’re suggesting we practice kissing.”

“I said just in case! Like if it happens again. If someone expects it.”

He set his phone down. Sat up straighter.

Your heart nearly exploded.

“I’m not saying we have to,” you said quickly. “Just—if we’re going to be convincing, we might as well—”

“I’m down,” he said.

You froze.

He looked at you. Calm. Unflinching. Serious.

“I mean, if you want,” he added, voice softer now.

You swallowed.

And then, before you could think your way out of it:

“Okay.”

You both stood at the same time.

Stupid. Awkward. Like you were thirteen again and someone had dared you to kiss your lab partner.

He stepped closer first.

He always did.

His hand found your waist. Not new. Familiar. Too familiar.

Your fingers curled into the edge of his shirt.

“Just practice,” you whispered.

“Just practice,” he echoed.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t like you expected.

It wasn’t awkward. Or hesitant. Or even soft.

It was sure.

He kissed you like he’d done it a thousand times in his head. Like he already knew what you’d taste like, how your breath would catch, where your hand would go next.

You broke first.

Pulled back with your heart in your throat and your hands shaking slightly.

Taehyun didn’t speak.

Neither did you.

Because there was nothing left to say that wouldn’t turn the lie into something too big to take back.

You sat down again. Not on opposite sides this time.

He handed you a blanket. Pressed play on the movie.

Your shoulder rested against his.

And when he fell asleep beside you — soft breaths, long lashes, hand still touching yours — you didn’t move.

You couldn’t.

Because something had already changed.

And you weren’t ready for it to stop.

You didn’t talk about the kiss.

Not that night. Not the day after. Not at all.

You didn’t bring it up when he messaged you the next morning with a casual “get home safe?” You didn’t mention it when he sent a TikTok of a cat jumping into a box and said it reminded him of your attention span.

And when he showed up two days later with your favorite coffee and a smug “you looked like you needed one,” you didn’t say a word about how his mouth had felt against yours, how long your fingers had clung to the hem of his shirt, how your heart still hadn’t figured out how to calm down.

You just smiled and took the drink.

Like nothing had changed.

Even though everything had.

You told yourself it was better this way.

That maybe the silence was mutual. That maybe he didn’t want to talk about it either. That maybe you’d imagined the way his hand had lingered on your waist, the way his breath had caught when you pulled away.

Because if you didn’t say it out loud, it could still be nothing.

Nothing was safe. Nothing meant you couldn’t lose anything.

The problem was, he was still him.

Still walked you to the train station when it rained. Still texted you memes at 2 a.m. Still left snacks in your bag when you forgot to eat between work and family drama.

He still showed up. And so did the feeling.

The low, humming ache that you’d been trying to pretend wasn’t there.

It was around this time that Beomgyu’s birthday rolled around.

You didn’t want to go.

But Eunchae had already RSVP’d for you. And the boys would notice if you didn’t show. And more than that — he’d notice.

So you put on a black fitted top and your most “casual but I tried” jeans, fixed your hair into something presentable, and Ubered to the house with your stomach in knots.

It wasn’t a party. It was a scene.

Half the campus felt like they were there. Music loud enough to shake the floors, people dancing in the kitchen, shoes off in the living room, drinks of all questionable origin floating between hands and mouths and sticky counters.

And somewhere in all of it — you spotted him.

He was by the windows, talking to Yeonjun and a girl you didn’t recognize.

She was tall, pretty. Light brown hair. Big smile.

She said something, and he laughed — a full one, the one that crinkled his eyes and showed his teeth.

You watched them for a second longer than you should’ve. Then turned and walked straight toward the drinks table.

Beomgyu found you half an hour later, sitting on the floor near the hall with a half-finished cider and a dangerously close stare at the carpet.

He slid down beside you.

“Ah,” he said. “My favorite melancholy presence.”

You didn’t look up. “I’m great.”

“You always say that when you’re deeply not great.”

You glanced at him. “Why are you even in here?”

He grinned. “Taehyun’s avoiding the beer pong table and Soobin’s already locked himself in the bathroom to ‘reset his social battery’ so I’m making the rounds.”

You laughed, despite yourself.

“You looked like you needed a break,” he added. “Or, like, a long cry. Either vibe, I’m good for both.”

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t push. Just leaned back against the wall.

A few moments passed in relative silence — the bass thumping faintly through the floorboards, someone cheering down the hallway, the low hum of too many voices in too little space.

Then, softly:

“Did something happen between you and Taehyun?”

Your heart stuttered.

Beomgyu wasn’t looking at you. He picked at the label of his drink like it had all the answers.

“Why would you say that?” you asked, too quickly.

He shrugged. “You’re weird tonight. He’s weird tonight. You haven’t looked at each other once.”

You didn’t respond.

He looked over. “Was it a fight?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

You shook your head. “Nothing.”

“You know I don’t believe that.”

You looked at your hands.

Beomgyu waited.

Then, carefully: “I think you two are more real than you’re pretending to be.”

You swallowed. “What makes you say that?”

He smiled — gently this time. “I know how he looks at people when he wants something.”

Your breath caught.

He didn’t press further. Just stood and offered his hand.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s find Eunchae before she kidnaps a stranger and forces them to dance to a BTS B-side.”

You spent the rest of the night pretending.

You talked to Soobin. Took selfies with Eunchae. Ate half a slice of cake and lied when Beomgyu asked if you were still hungry.

But you didn’t look for Taehyun.

And when he passed by in the hallway with that same girl — laughing again, saying something low and amused — you didn’t flinch.

You just pretended not to see him.

You left before midnight.

Eunchae blew you a kiss. Beomgyu hugged you goodbye and whispered, “Text me if you need to scream into the void.”

You smiled. Told them both you were fine. Then got in the Uber and stared out the window the entire ride home.

You didn’t cry. But you wanted to.

Because the ache in your chest wasn’t because you’d kissed him.

It was because he hadn’t said a single word about it since.

And you didn’t know what that meant.

The next morning, you turned your phone off.

You didn’t want to see his name.

You didn’t want to wonder why he hadn’t texted. Or whether you should be the one to say something. Or if he was waiting — or avoiding — or worse, regretting it.

You didn’t want to care.

But you did.

It was almost two days before you cracked.

You turned your phone back on mid-afternoon and were greeted by a string of messages.

TAEHYUN [9:41 PM, Yesterday]

didn’t see you leave you okay?

TAEHYUN [10:05 AM, Today]

let me know if you need anything no pressure. just checking in.

TAEHYUN [11:22 AM]

i have leftover tteokbokki. could be a peace offering. just saying.

You stared at the screen.

Typed.

Deleted.

Typed again.

Still deleted.

You didn’t know what to say.

So you said nothing.

You didn’t expect him to come over.

But of course he did.

Because Taehyun didn’t do silence.

You heard the knock late that evening, soft and hesitant. You padded to the door in your socks, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, and opened it without thinking.

There he was.

Hair tousled, sweatshirt half-zipped, holding two plastic containers and a sheepish expression.

“Didn’t want the food to go to waste,” he said.

You stared at him.

“You should come in,” you heard yourself say.

You ate in the living room with a movie playing low in the background. Not talking about the kiss. Not talking about the party. Not talking about anything that mattered.

He handed you chopsticks and told you a dumb story about Beomgyu spilling cola all over his guitar case last week. You laughed, halfheartedly. Thanked him for the food. Offered him water. Sat too far from him on the couch.

It wasn’t cold. It wasn’t tense. It was just off.

And he felt it too.

You could see it in the way he kept glancing over. Like he wanted to say something. Like he was waiting for permission.

But you didn’t give it.

So neither of you said anything.

He didn’t stay long.

Just long enough to wash his hands, put his shoes back on, and hesitate at the door.

You stood with your fingers curled into your sleeves.

He looked at you.

“Hey,” he said. “If I… if I did something wrong—”

“No,” you said quickly.

He waited.

You couldn’t look at him.

“I just— I don’t know what we’re doing,” you admitted. “And I don’t know what that kiss was, and I don’t want to ruin what we have, and—”

He cut you off. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

You looked up.

“I just didn’t know if you wanted to talk about it,” he said. “So I gave you space.”

You nodded.

“Was that wrong?”

You shook your head. “No. It’s just… complicated.”

Taehyun nodded slowly. “Yeah. It is.”

Neither of you moved.

Then:

“But I’m not going anywhere,” he added.

And for some reason, that made your throat ache more than anything else had.

After he left, you sat back on the couch, pulled your knees to your chest, and let yourself breathe.

Just for a second.

Just long enough to admit — The problem wasn’t that you didn’t know how he felt. The problem was that you were starting to figure out how you did.

The kiss was still unspoken.

And that was the hardest part.

Because it hadn’t gone away.

It lingered — quietly, insistently — behind every moment since. Not as a memory, not exactly. More like a pull. A shift. A barely-there change in the shape of things.

A before and after.

And you hadn’t crossed the line so much as stumbled into it.

The problem was: now you couldn’t find your way back.

Taehyun hadn’t brought it up.

You hadn’t either.

It sat between you like something alive — restless and growing, curling around every silence and look and near-touch like it wanted to be noticed.

But neither of you reached for it.

You tiptoed around it. You danced circles. You acted like the moment hadn’t happened.

Only it had.

And pretending otherwise felt like carrying around a live wire, hoping it didn’t set fire to the next thing you touched.

He still texted like everything was fine.

Still sent you voice memos when he was walking home from practice. Still dropped links to songs he said “sounded like you.” Still screenshot book passages and added dramatic commentary in all caps.

He was still him.

But you weren’t sure if you were still you.

Because the things you used to find familiar — his voice, his laugh, the way he said your name — all felt like they were coated in something new. Something sharp. Something that reminded you: he’d kissed you like it wasn’t a joke.

And then said nothing at all.

You told yourself not to overthink it.

But that was a lie you were getting worse at telling.

Because your hands still remembered the feel of his shirt bunched in your fingers. Your mouth still remembered how long it took for him to pull away. And your brain — cruel, traitorous thing that it was — remembered the look in his eyes when he asked, “Do you want to stop?”

The answer had been no.

It still was.

You avoided seeing him for four days.

You weren’t proud of it.

You just didn’t know how to be around him when your whole body still sparked at the memory of his lips on yours.

So you said you were busy. Told him you were buried in work. Faked tiredness. Avoided calls. Didn’t send the meme you laughed at alone in your room.

And it wasn’t until you woke to a group text from Eunchae that said:

EUNCHAE [9:18 AM]

dinner thursday. you. me. the boys. don’t say no. i already booked it. (taehyun said yes. just saying.)

That you realized you were going to have to face him eventually.

The restaurant was warm and low-lit, all brass fixtures and clinking cutlery and soft background jazz.

You arrived last — deliberately — so you wouldn’t have to make small talk or sit awkwardly waiting to see where Taehyun would end up.

Instead, you slid into the only remaining seat — right across from him.

Of course.

He looked up the moment you sat down. His expression didn’t give much away — just a flicker of something unreadable as he said, “Hey.”

You nodded. “Hey.”

And then you both looked away.

Dinner was… fine.

Eunchae took up most of the air in the room, thank god. She was on a monologue about some guy in her music theory class who kept bringing hard-boiled eggs to lectures and eating them aggressively.

Beomgyu had tears in his eyes by the time she started miming the sound.

Soobin sipped water with the energy of someone trying not to be perceived.

Taehyun?

Taehyun kept stealing glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

You saw every one of them.

At one point, his knee bumped yours under the table.

You didn’t move.

Neither did he.

And neither of you looked up.

Just sat there — skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat — as the others kept talking around you like nothing was happening at all.

Like something wasn’t shifting quietly under the surface.

Like something hadn’t already changed.

Eunchae cornered you in the bathroom.

Obviously.

You were fixing your lip balm at the mirror when she appeared behind you like a chaos-summoning ghost.

“You’re acting weird,” she said immediately.

You blinked. “I literally said five words the whole dinner.”

“Exactly.”

You sighed. “I’m tired.”

“You’re lying.”

You turned. “I’m not—”

She raised a hand. “Don’t. I saw you and Taehyun playing footsie under the table like you’re starring in an indie romance no one asked for.”

You flushed. “It wasn’t footsie.”

“Did you kiss?”

You froze.

She gasped. “You did.”

“Eunchae—”

“When?? Was it recent? Did it mean something? Why are you acting like this is some top-secret government file?!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “It just—happened. And we haven’t talked about it.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You hesitated.

Then: “I don’t know.”

Her voice softened. “Do you want it to be real?”

Your throat went dry.

You didn’t answer.

But she nodded like she already knew.

When you returned to the table, Taehyun looked up immediately.

You didn’t meet his eyes.

He didn’t try to force it.

But something in the air between you turned heavier. Thicker. Like the tension had finally realised it was being ignored and was now insisting on being seen.

You stayed quiet for the rest of dinner.

He did too.

And the moment you stepped out into the night air, Eunchae was already texting:

EUNCHAE [9:44 PM]

you two need to talk. i can’t take this tension. i’m developing secondhand unresolved sexual tension rash.

You groaned into your scarf.

He didn’t walk you home.

He didn’t offer.

And you didn’t ask.

You just shared a glance across the curb before the group splintered — Soobin calling an Uber, Beomgyu dragging Eunchae toward the train station — and you turned in separate directions.

You felt his eyes on you as you walked away.

You didn’t look back.

The next night, you found yourself staring at your phone again.

Your thumb hovered over his name. You typed.

Deleted.

Typed again.

i think we should talk.

You stared at it.

Deleted it.

Tried again.

did the kiss mean anything to you?

Deleted.

You ended up sending nothing.

But it sat with you. Heavy. Unspoken. Loud.

The silence didn’t break until Saturday.

You were at home, laundry half-done, hair in a messy bun, trying to distract yourself with a stupid drama you weren’t even watching.

And then — a knock.

You froze.

Taehyun’s knock was distinct. Three soft raps. A pause. Then one more.

You opened the door with your breath held tight in your chest.

He looked… uncertain.

Sweatshirt sleeves pulled down over his wrists, hair a little too neat like he’d fixed it and then messed it up again, just to seem casual.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”

A pause.

“I was going to text,” he said. “But…”

“You didn’t.”

“No.”

You stepped back. “Do you want to come in?”

He nodded once.

Walked past you like he didn’t feel your eyes on him the entire time.

He stood in the middle of your living room, not sitting. Not touching anything. Just… standing.

You didn’t move either.

It felt like a standoff. Or the edge of a cliff.

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

“I think we should talk.”

You swallowed.

“About?”

“You know what.”

You sat on the couch.

He did too, finally.

Not right beside you. Not far.

But enough.

You turned to face him slightly.

He mirrored it.

Your breath caught.

He noticed.

“I didn’t mean to make things weird,” he said. “After the kiss.”

You nodded slowly. “You didn’t make it weird.”

“But it is.”

You didn’t argue.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wasn’t sure if it meant something to you.”

You blinked. “Did it mean something to you?”

He didn’t answer.

That was your answer.

You looked down at your hands.

“I think it scared me,” you said quietly. “Because it didn’t feel fake.”

He didn’t respond.

So you added, “And I’m not sure I know how to separate it anymore.”

“Separate what?”

“What we’re pretending,” you said. “And what we’re not.”

Taehyun let out a slow breath.

“Same.”

You looked up.

He was already watching you.

Eyes softer than you expected. Like he was seeing something you hadn’t offered him out loud.

Then:

“I think I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time,” he said.

The room stilled.

You did too.

“I just didn’t know how to say it.”

You opened your mouth. Then closed it.

Because what did you say to that?

He didn’t lean in.

He didn’t press.

He just… sat there.

Offered the truth. Waited.

And you?

You weren’t ready to answer.

Not yet.

So you said, “I’m still figuring things out.”

He nodded.

“I know.”

You sat in the quiet.

Let it stretch.

And maybe, just maybe, you both understood — You didn’t have to figure it all out tonight. But you weren’t pretending anymore.

Not really.

It was easier to talk after that night.

But that didn’t mean it was less confusing.

You didn’t kiss again. You didn’t talk about the almosts. You didn’t ask what he meant when he said he’d wanted to kiss you for a long time — or what it meant that he hadn’t.

You just… spent time together again.

Like it was normal.

Like it was fine.

Like nothing had changed except that everything had.

A week passed like that.

Texting. Movie nights. Walking to the store for instant ramen and forgetting what aisle the mushrooms were in. You laughed at his impressions. He called you dramatic when you dropped your spoon mid-story.

He still looked at you differently.

You knew it.

He knew you knew.

But neither of you said anything.

And still — something shifted.

Not fast. Not loud. But gently. Steadily. Like the floorboards had begun rearranging themselves beneath your feet, one creak at a time.

One night, it rained.

You’d both had a long day — him with work, you with your family group chat ambush over your “plans” for the upcoming cousin’s engagement weekend.

“I can’t believe they expect me to travel and wear matching outfits just to be grilled by my uncle about marriage,” you grumbled as he followed you up the apartment steps.

“You’re forgetting the part where I get to eat free canapés and pretend to be your perfect boyfriend,” he replied.

You paused at your door.

“Still okay with that?” you asked.

He blinked. “With what?”

“Coming with me.”

His voice was softer this time. “Of course I’m coming with you.”

Your chest stung a little.

He added, more carefully, “Unless you don’t want me to.”

“I do.”

You weren’t sure if that was the truth you meant to say. But it was the one you said.

Inside, the storm got worse.

It clattered against the windows while he curled up at the end of your couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over his knuckles, fingers tapping a random rhythm on the cushion.

You both watched some forgettable sitcom rerun while pretending to care.

You didn’t.

Your mind was elsewhere — tracing memories like outlines on a fogged window.

“Do you think we’re being unfair?” you asked suddenly.

He looked over. “To who?”

“Each other.”

His expression didn’t shift.

You added, “I don’t want to pretend I’m okay not knowing where we stand.”

A beat.

“I don’t want to pretend either,” he said, voice low. “But I don’t want to push you.”

You looked at him.

His hair was mussed from where he’d run his hands through it earlier. He had a small scar on his temple you’d never noticed before. His lips were slightly parted, like he was about to say something else but didn’t.

You wanted to kiss him.

You didn’t.

Instead, you said, “I think I’m just scared I’ll mess it up.”

He smiled, almost painfully. “You couldn’t.”

And then — silence.

Thick, uncertain, fragile.

But full of something.

Something that might grow if you let it.

The following day, you went to a bookstore together.

It wasn’t a date.

You told yourself that three times as he reached for your wrist absentmindedly while crossing the road.

It wasn’t a date when he handed you a poetry book you’d once mentioned in passing. It wasn’t a date when he bought both your drinks and said, “You got dinner last time.” It wasn’t a date when you sat shoulder to shoulder on the train back home and he leaned his head against yours.

Definitely not a date.

Except you couldn’t stop thinking about how much it felt like one.

That night, Beomgyu messaged you.

BEOMGYU [10:02 PM] not to be nosy (lie) but if u and taehyun are still fake-dating i am a sweet potato

You stared at the message.

Didn’t reply.

Didn’t know how.

Because you weren’t sure what you were anymore either.

It was Eunchae’s idea.

Of course it was.

“Double date,” she declared in the group chat. “Me, Minji, you two. Bowling. 7PM. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

You’d barely typed a question mark before she added:

EUNCHAE [3:15 PM]

and no this is not about me proving you two are clearly in love it’s about me being a winner and crushing you in matching socks

Taehyun responded:

TAEHYUN [3:16 PM]

bring it.

So here you were.

Not on a date.

Just a night out.

With your fake boyfriend.

Who’d brushed your hand twice on the walk over, and looked very good in a fitted t-shirt, and was currently placing your rental bowling shoes next to yours like it meant something.

Which it didn’t.

Definitely.

You were so screwed.

Eunchae was ruthless, as expected.

She did a full victory dance every time she knocked down a pin. Minji, sweet and long-suffering, filmed half of them and politely clapped through the rest.

Taehyun was suspiciously good.

You were… average.

“Your form is actually tragic,” Taehyun whispered in your ear after you threw a particularly pitiful gutter ball.

You shoved him. “You’re supposed to be supportive.”

“I am. Just not when you bowl like a baby deer learning physics.”

You stuck out your tongue. “You suck.”

He grinned. “You like me anyway.”

You froze.

He didn’t.

Later, after Minji won a round and Eunchae demanded celebratory snacks, the two of you wandered to the arcade section — just to kill time.

He watched you lose tragically at the claw machine. You watched him dominate a rhythm game.

And then he pointed to the photo booth.

You laughed. “Seriously?”

He raised a brow. “We’re fake dating, remember?”

The words landed harder than they should’ve.

But you went in anyway.

The photos were stupid.

One smiling, one blurry, one of you both laughing too hard, one where he kissed your cheek just as the flash went off.

Your stomach did something strange when you saw that last one.

“I like this one,” he said, tugging the strip from the machine.

You didn’t answer.

He didn’t ask why.

On the walk home, you were quiet.

So was he.

Until, finally:

“You’ve been weird all night.”

You glanced up. “What does that mean?”

“You get all quiet when you’re overthinking.”

“I do not.”

He gave you a look.

“Okay,” you admitted. “Maybe I do.”

A pause.

Then:

“Did something happen?” he asked gently.

You shook your head.

Then nodded.

Then: “I keep forgetting this isn’t real.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment.

Then, softly: “Me too.”

You stopped walking.

So did he.

“I don’t know what we’re doing anymore,” you said.

He looked at you carefully.

“Do you want to stop?”

You didn’t answer.

Instead, you asked: “Do you?”

His voice was quiet. “No.”

You blinked.

He stepped a little closer.

“I want to keep being whatever this is,” he said. “Even if we’re figuring it out as we go.”

You stared at him.

“I just need you to meet me in it,” he added.

Your chest tightened.

Because you wanted to.

God, you wanted to.

So you nodded.

“I’m trying.”

And for now — that was enough.

That night, you lay in bed scrolling through the photo strip again.

His hand on your waist. His laugh. His lips pressed to your cheek.

You could still feel the ghost of it.

And this time, you didn’t try to convince yourself it wasn’t real.

Because maybe — just maybe — you didn’t want to pretend anymore.

End of Pt 1

[lovesickchoi]

📁 FILE 04: KANG TAEHYUN

⋆·˚ ༘ * He fixes, he folds, and he fucks like he’s determined to show you just how much he cares. You want nothing more than to return the favor, be the one who takes care of him for once. But Taehyun can't imagine not being of service to you.

✦ Love Language: Acts of Service

pairing: taehyun x reader ✮⋆˙✐ 3.3k

warnings: f!reader, smut, domestic tension, switch but mostly dom!taehyun, kitchen sex, service kink, oral f!receiving, no protection

🗂️ click here to access all txt member’s files

˚₊ · »-♡→ main masterlist

Taehyun never said I love you like a normal person.

He said it through tasks, timing, and attention. Always quietly folding the world around you so you never had to ask for anything. And you’d let him.

Truthfully, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d lifted a finger in his presence. You were independent when you met him—fiercely so. The kind of person who didn’t trust anyone to do things as well as you could, let alone take care of you. But Taehyun had a way of gently dismantling those walls, brick by quiet brick, until your hands were empty and your burdens shared.

There were meals cooked after long days where you both came home tired and frayed, only he wouldn’t let you touch the stove. Instead, he’d kiss your forehead and force you to sit pretty on the counter so he had a nice view while he worked. And when you were done eating? You wouldn’t dare attempt to help clean up. Not unless you wanted your hands swatted away and Taehyun sprinting upstairs to run you a bath, insisting you “go soak and relax, baby, I’ll join you soon.”

You’d never forget coming home from that terrible day, still raw from an argument with your best friend, and finding the apartment spotless, your clothes folded neatly on the bed, and a bottle of wine breathing on the counter beside your favorite takeout. No questions asked.

You couldn’t even recall the last time you carried your own purse. Traveling? He always found a way to juggle both suitcases without complaint, leaving your hands completely free.

And it wasn’t just the grand gestures. It was in the subtleties. The way his eyes always flicked toward you, searching for anything you might need. How he’d bring you water without being asked. Fix a squeaky cabinet at one in the morning because it annoyed you once. Rearranged his already busy schedule for yours, because stress on your shoulders was unbearable to him.

Not to mention in bed. God, the pillow princess he’d turned you into. Taehyun was as eager to please as he was allergic to being on the receiving end. The concept of letting you take care of him was laughable, sacrilegious, even. He never let you, not once. As if your love was something he didn’t need to feel. Only something he was born to give.

He never asked or expected. He only gave, and gave, and gave. But tonight, you decided to try anyway.

There he was now, creeping into the kitchen to make you a snack because he’d heard your stomach rumble while the two of you curled up in bed mid-movie. When you reached for him, questioning why he paused the TV, he only smiled softly, kissed your temple, and slipped out from under the covers.

For a moment, you lay in the dark listening: the clinking of metal, the click of the stove, the crinkle of packaging. Soon, the savory scent of your favorite instant ramen drifted down the hallway. It pulled you from bed like a thread tied to your chest. And the moment you step into the kitchen, your heart nearly stops.

He’s shirtless, facing away from you as he stirs the pot. The warm overhead light carves golden lines down his back. His shoulder blades shifting with every movement. Sweatpants hang low on his narrow hips, the waistband tugging slightly down on one side. He’s completely unaware of how devastating he looks, and that only makes it worse.

You swallow, mouth watering—and not just because of the ramen.

A few more steps forward and you're wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. Taehyun jumps, slightly startled, then relaxes into your touch with a smile. He sets the chopsticks aside and folds his arms over yours in a welcoming gesture.

"Hi baby," he hums with contentment.

"Hi," you smile into his skin, cheek pressed to the expanse of his back. "Smells good." A soft sigh leaves your lips, warm breath brushing his bare shoulder.

Goosebumps rise across his skin. He can feel the shape of you—your nipples faintly brushing through the thin fabric of your t-shirt, your hips pressing gently to his. He knows without looking that you’re wearing nothing underneath but panties.

Still, he doesn’t move. He lets you hold him. But you? You’re already planning to do more than hold.

Your arms tighten, lips beginning to brush his back. You feel the tremor that runs through him, the tension pooling just beneath his skin. And still, he doesn’t pull away.

You trail your fingers along the firm plane of his stomach carefully, until your palms rest flat over the waistband of his sweats. You don’t dip beneath just yet, instead holding him there like he’s yours to touch.

He draws a controlled breath through his nose. “Baby…” he warns gently, voice catching in his throat.

“I know,” you whisper. “Just... let me.”

You turn him around by the hips, and Taehyun allows it, chest rising now with more visible effort. He leans back slightly against the counter perpendicular to the stove, arms going loose at his sides like he’s trying to prove something to himself and to you. But his eyes are already dark, focused on your mouth intently.

You press a kiss to his sternum. He gulps hard. Another kiss to the edge of his collarbone. And then, finally, you tilt your face up and catch his mouth with yours.

It starts sweet, nothing but melted sugar and warmth. His lips move slowly, savoring the feeling as he holds himself back.

But then your hands slip to the sides of his neck, pulling him deeper, angling his head how you want him. Your tongue drags against his with hot need. You kiss like you’ve forgotten what patience even means.

Taehyun moans softly against your lips, involuntarily. You feel his knees bend slightly, as if his whole body wants to follow yours.

You pull back, just enough to murmur, “Sit for me.”

Before he can question it, you gently push him toward the chair at the kitchen table.

He stumbles back a step and halts. His brows twitch with uncertainty. You watch the flicker in his expression: a flash of confusion and resistance. He’s never been the one sitting like this. He doesn’t really know how.

But you step forward, crowding him slowly, guiding him with your hands on his waist like you’re offering him something for once instead of taking. The backs of his legs hit the chair.

You don’t force him down, you just press lightly. He lets out a breath and finally sits.

For a second, Taehyun looks bewitched by you in the most gorgeous way. Hair tousled, chest rising and falling too fast, mouth pink and kiss-bitten. His hands clutch the edge of the seat like it’s anchoring him to the earth. Because he really might float away if he doesn’t hold on.

You climb into his lap with reverence, legs folding around him, your hands smoothing over his shoulders. His skin is flushed. His cock presses hard against you through the thin fabric of his sweats, and the friction alone has him sighing like he’s seconds from losing composure.

You kiss him again, filthier this time. Your hips roll forward, just enough to force a strangled noise from him.

“Let me take care of you for once,” you whisper into his mouth.

Your hand snakes its way down Taehyun’s abdomen. He’s so tense it’s almost laughable. He’s fighting within himself, wanting so bad to give in. But it felt unnatural.

“Baby… you don’t have to.”

His eyes are wired shut when he speaks. You don’t even grace him with a response. He sits there, feeling useless, feeling you place your lips in all the right places across his neck and jaw, fingers finding their way to cutely snake into his sweatpants.

But all he can think about is how you’re probably soaked under those panties. How you must be clenching around nothing, begging to be touched. You must want to be cared for, and oh how he wanted it to be him doing it. Suddenly, he can’t get the idea of you whining and cumming at his manipulation out of his mind.

That’s when the panic sets it.

Taehyun huffs, a sharp and frustrated sound that floods your ears, before gripping your waist so suddenly it makes you yelp. His eyes snap open, blown wide with want. So much want it nearly breaks you.

“I can’t,” he says hoarsely. “You don’t get it—I can’t.”

He lifts you with too much ease, standing abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. Your legs tighten around him out of instinct. He presses your back to the kitchen table, firm but not rough, breathing hard. His forehead falls against yours.

“I’ll lose my mind if I don’t touch you the way I need to.” His voice is a growl now, trembling with restraint. “You don’t get to make me feel good and expect me to just sit here. That’s not how this works. That’s never been how this works.”

You see it all over him—how badly he wants the pleasure you’re offering, and how violently it clashes with the way he’s wired to love. It’s sexy, yes, but it’s also so deeply revealing you feel it split something open inside you. It's not that he doesn't want it. It's that he simply can't compute it.

His hands roam. One cups your jaw, the other sliding beneath your thighs. He’s already rolling his hips into you, chasing friction like it’s air.

“You’re not supposed to take care of me,” he hisses against your neck. “That’s not—what I’m made for.”

You gasp as his mouth finds the edge of your collarbone, biting gently. His grip on your waist tightens, and just like that, the control is back in his hands.

He rises slightly, pushing your shirt up over your chest to see all of you. Nipples flushed pink and hard with need, black underwear that he picked out already soaked and hugging the outline of your folds. He stares unashamedly like he always does. His hands are rough, tracing you from your ribs to your thighs as if reacquainting himself with your body.

"If I stop giving... and I let you give, it’s like I’ve failed you," he mutters, eyes glazed over with lustful thoughts of you.

While he's too busy eye-fucking you, you take your chance. You sit up slightly, just enough to reach for his cheek, grazing it softly.

“You haven’t failed anything. You love me so well. Let me love you back.” You attempt to bargain.

You rise further, closing the gap between you with a slow kiss, your legs looping around his waist to tug him closer, ankles locked. But he catches your wrist mid-motion, grinning softly, already seeing through your plan. Of course you’d try to flip the script.

But he can't take it anymore, not with your bodies this close. The food sizzles on the stove, but he doesn't care. His desire to serve takes over.

He scoops your thighs into his arms and drags you to the edge of the table, then drops to his knees. Your legs fall open over his shoulders. A breathy moan slips from his lips as he drinks in the new view—now eye level with your dripping cunt.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I need to. Please—just let me.”

Your soaked panties cling to you obscenely, a clear outline of want pressed against black lace. He hums low in his chest, the sound nearly guttural.

Taehyun presses a kiss to your inner thigh, then another, this one open-mouthed and wet, teeth grazing just enough to make you mewl. His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs to anchor himself.

He moans just from the scent of you. “Fuck." His voice is muffled, lost in the heat between your legs. “So wet.”

“Oh my god-“ You gasp as his tongue presses flat against the soaked crotch of your panties. Taehyun doesn't bother pulling them aside. No, that would be too simple. He’s decided you’re getting ruined like this: his mouth taking you through the fabric, letting every flick of his tongue sink through cotton and lace to where you need him most, and it works.

Your hips are arching up into him. But he’s relentless, hands sliding up to hold you still, palms splayed across your chest.

“Stay still,” his voice vibrated against you. “Let me do this right.”

He licks you long and slow, savoring the way your arousal has soaked through and made the panties cling to you like a second skin. Every pass of his tongue has your thighs trembling, your hands reaching blindly for something to hold.

You fist his hair. Taehyun groans—really groans—like your fingers pulling at his scalp could make him cum untouched. He presses his face deeper between your legs, nuzzling the soaked fabric as if inhaling you could give him life.

His tongue finds your clit. Even through the damp cotton, it sends a bolt of pleasure tearing through your spine. Your back arches and a cry escapes you. He hums again, pleased, adjusting the angle so he can suck gently, just enough pressure to make your vision blur.

“That’s it, baby,” he inhales deeply. “Give it to me. Let me have all of it.” He exhales just as deeply.

You don’t know if he’s talking about your moans, your pussy, your entire fucking soul, but you let him have it. Maybe this was your way of giving to him.

Taehyun keeps eating, savoring, and drinking you in through the delicate fabric until it's useless and he’s so hard in his sweatpants he could cry. One of his hands leaves your hip to slip between his legs, palming himself through the fabric just for a second, just enough to breathe again.

Then his mouth drags lower, tongue teasing the spot just beneath your entrance through the sheer fabric before returning to your clit. You're writhing now, moaning like a confession, your thighs trying to close in around his head but he won’t let them.

“You're almost there, aren't you?” His voice is noticeably ruined. “Cum for me. I want to feel you shake on my tongue.”

He licks harder, and you shatter.

Your orgasm hits like a wave. Crashing and sweeping through your entire body until your hands fall from his hair and you’re barely able to breathe, whimpering his name over and over.

Still, he doesn’t stop, not until your hips twitch from overstimulation and your whines turn into helpless little pleas for him to end it. Only then does he pull back, panting, chin glistening, and your panties practically glued to you.

He looks up at you like he’s blessed. This is the only thing he’s ever prayed to.

“Better?” he asks, voice hoarse, lips curled into the faintest, self-satisfied smirk.

You're so busy coming down from your orgasm, about to respond, that you don’t even realize he’s stripped you. Your soaked panties gone along with his boxers and sweatpants, discarded somewhere on the kitchen table.

When you glance down, he’s already between your thighs again, his cock hard against your leg. You’re still catching your breath, body trembling from your orgasm, but his hands are already moving.

He lifts one leg, then the other, hooking the backs of your knees over the crooks of his elbows like he's done plenty of times before. His chest brushes yours, folding you in half on the table, breath warm against your skin as he lines himself up.

“Let me give you more,” he murmurs, every syllable soaking with need. “Let me stay inside you until you forget your own name.”

Then he’s pushing in devastatingly deep. Your breath stutters, your head tilting back as he sinks you down onto him inch by inch. His grip tightens around your thighs, holding you to him while your body opens for him completely.

You can feel every inch of Taehyun. But it’s not just the fullness that makes you a whimpering mess, it’s the way he’s holding you there, pinned to the surface.

“Fuck,” Taehyun exhales, eyes fluttering shut. “You feel—Jesus.”

Your hands reach to grip his neck as he starts to move. Each thrust is so expertly precise. The slow drag out, the firmer press in. His rhythm is just right, but his breath is ragged. You cling to the edge of the table and to him, legs still lifted, knees trembling slightly where they’re slung over his arms.

Taehyun's hands grip your body in a way they've never held you before. And he groans every time he bottoms out inside you.

The kitchen is filled with the slick, inappropriate sound of him moving inside you. The quiet hiss of the stove behind you both now forgotten, noodles cooking past perfect. The smell of ramen and sex drifts through the air.

“Taehyun!” you gasp, head tipping back. This is his favorite view of you.

“Yeah?” he pants, not stopping once. “Say it again.”

You do. Over and over. Not just his name, but everything. What he feels like, how he fucks you, how he makes you feel like no one else ever has. You don’t know what you’re saying anymore. Only that it pours out of you in moans and broken whines.

You feel it building again, this time too fast and way too strong. Your body tenses around him.

He must feel it too, because he drops your legs from his elbows and folds you close, hips never faltering as he hooks his arms around your waist and lifts you clean off the table. You gasp in surprise, clutching his shoulders.

Now it’s chest to chest, his forehead against yours, your legs wrapped tight around his hips. Your nails score his back as he fucks you suspended in the air.

“Come on, baby,” he pleads, voice cracked as he slams you down onto his cock. “Give it to me one more time.”

You shatter for the second time in your little kitchen. This one rips through you harder than before. You cry out, whole body shaking and convulsing around him, just the way he likes.

“Fuckfuckfuck—fuck,” he hisses, every muscle in his body going rigid as he drives into you one last time and cums harder than ever. His hips falter, then still as he pushes in as deep as possible, moaning into your mouth as he buries himself to the hilt.

Silence slowly follows. Beautiful, comfortable silence.

Taehyun doesn’t pull out of you right away. He lowers both of you down slowly, your back landing softly against the now-cleared table. His cheek rests against your thigh, damp with sweat, lips parted as he catches his breath. His arms are still around your waist. You brush a hand through his hair, looking down at him.

“One day, I’ll make you let me take care of you.” You can't help but smile.

He half-laughs and murmurs back, “I'll die trying to stop you.”

You feel the slight ache in his words. Because behind them, you worry Taehyun thinks he’s unworthy of being taken care of by you. That’s the part that guts you.

You sit up just slightly, shifting your weight until you're able to reach the stove. The ramen is still there, now slightly burnt at the edges, thick with overcooked noodles. Laughing quietly, you dish some into a bowl, scooping a bite with your chopsticks and blowing to cool it down. When you turn back and offer it to him, he almost hesitates.

But eventually Taehyun lets you. He opens his mouth, and you feed him. He chews, swallows, then drops his forehead into your neck with a sigh so deep as he relaxes into your warmth.

This is the kind of peace he’s never allowed himself. But tonight, just for a moment, he does for you.

tags: @bunnysoonie @zznblr @another-lemon-tree @gyudollies @beomgyusluver @dawngyu @boba-beom @taebatu @simpforseoho @beestvng @yyeonbinn @chubichubs @jooyeonsvape @txt-thelmi @zorange13 @jellyyjn @frenziedpiratetrap @gardnhee @txtsdoll @annovaz @morguebounddoll @melmochii @yunhorights @saccharinezennie @gyutaepie @313hwa @tyuncloudreamy @ijustwannareadstuff20 @bamtor1sss @iyoonjh

likes/reblogs/comments always appreciated <3

[bamtor1sss]

———————Rent—Free Feelings

pairing: 𝗍𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 // 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝗎 ౨ৎ—WC 7.5k

𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: 𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗆𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 ????, 𝗎𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌, 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍

⪩ ⪨ - 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗇. 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗎𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇—𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖺𝖽. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍— 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇… 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍. 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍

warning: no protection (wrap ur willy!), aphrodisiacs, multiple orgasms, taehyun cries a little, handjob, little bit of dirty talk, sub!taehyun, overstimulation, nipple sucking f!rec, stuttering(?), neck kisses

A/N : THIS is an actual train wreck of a fic... im not sure how i feel about it- like after 5k words i got lost- my writing had less energy ngl 😭 but i hope everyone enjoys nonetheless!! (im never doing this many words again...)

thoughts about kang taehyun? well there was a lot…

kang taehyun was the ideal guy, the whole package; he was academically smart not only that but he was intelligent, people smart—the type to win you over with his wits and mannerisms that made him seem like he cared. he was good looking—well built physique which had girls all over him, great at sports to the point he didn’t even have to try to be good at them and generally was very likable. winning him the high popularity throughout high school and university

is what most people would say but you? you’d say quite the opposite, sure he was smart but he’s cocky. a know it all—the type to push his opinion in your face and make it seem like you were small. he was good looking sure. but he was a totally jerk about it man-whoring with every girl he got the chance. and him being great a sports?—you say he just bribed every teacher and coach like he does to get ahead of everything. that stupid smug grin and wink he’d flash just for good measures. to say the least you despised kang taehyun with your whole heart.  

but it wasn’t always this way, in fact you knew him in high school and you both weren’t exactly friends but you weren’t exactly acquaintances. you two were both in the same friend circle and you had started liking him… sure you were still getting to know him but he seemed really smart, he was kinda shy which seemed to add to his charm, and honestly he was pretty fun to hangout with.

 him just being himself made your usual loud and outgoing-self pretty timid around him, wanting to make a good impression. 

that was until you were hanging out with some friends—and taehyun made a harsh comment maybe jokingly that cut deep. to you, in front of all those people made your whole world stop spinning—the kind of feeling where the words sting, lingering in your mind long after the laughter fades, like you’re caught between wanting to laugh it off and wanting to shrink into the background. and to make things worse he noticed and he still laughed. 

and you never forgot it. 

you laughed it off in front of others but it hurt, and it stuck. it’s honestly been so long you started to forget what he even said, you were a pretty outgoing person, sometimes speaking too quickly and dressing maybe a little too bold for high school. maybe it was about your voice, something else you were insecure about. but whatever he said stuck. 

you started to keep a healthy distance between yourself and him instead of just upright confronting him, and when you grew defensive making sharp comments towards him, he started to assume you now hated him, so he doubled down-better to act like it was all a game than admit he was wrong, that he cared. 

besides absolutely getting embarrassed by your former crush 

the two of you both started to feel this awkward tension that neither of you chose to address and decided to replace with sharp bitter remarks and the urge to do everything to one up him, make him feel like how he made you that day, which totally didn’t work. despite taehyun being an absolute jerk to you, he really was a good person, like genuinely he was kind and cared for people.

 but when it came to you? 

it was just awkward tension that filled the room and his only way of dealing with it was making your life absolute hell. that time you wanted to run for lass president? he made sure he ran as well and somehow got more votes than you, purposely scoring higher grades than you on exams just to get under your skin. it was always a competition, one you couldn’t win. thankfully that all ended once you graduated high school and parted ways with taehyun—life suddenly wasn’t so bad. you were even able to get into a great university and everything was great—

until you realized you couldn’t actually afford to live on your own… great. just great. i mean SURE, maybe… you had A FEW terrible spending habits—like ordering food when your fridge had things in it, your totally justifiable need for cute stationery—but you didn’t realize it had gotten this bad?? like it wasn’t your fault rent and textbooks were criminally overpriced… you thought maybe you could power through with some part time job, maybe selling a few clothes you hadn’t worn anymore. but the math wasn’tmathing.. and you weren’t trying to end up homeless for the sake of pride… so you did what any desperate student would do—post an open call for a roommate…

you made the post in all the local student housing groups: 

“hi!! looking for a chill roommate to split rent with :) i’m clean, responsible, can cook sometimes, message me if interested!”

and then you waited.

and waited.

and waited…

OH my god how long is this going to take???-

why didn’t anyone tell you it was actually THIS hard to find someone who wasn’t  creepy, ghosting you after the first message, or looking to “share a bed for bonding purposes *smirk emojis*”—???— it was actual hell. this one guy named yeonjun said they needed the place only on weekends so they could “crash with their situationship on weekdays,” another literally tried to turn the roommate application into a job interview: what are your top five strengths and weaknesses? who even asks that dude??? just when you were about to give up all hope and turn on your personal playlist dedicated to crying

and regretting all your life choices!

ding

a message.

“HOLY SHI-“ you screamed and jumped up re-reading the notification. after THREE (yes only 72 hours…) long, soul-crushing days, you got a NORMAL offer to split an apartment. finally—someone normal, someone decent, someone who responded in full sentences. maybe—just maybe—things were looking up.

…until you saw the name on the message request.

kang. taehyun.

you stared at your screen, blinking. “WHAT THE HELL?” you screamed again in the span of one minute…

no-

no. no no no no n o.

there’s literally no way. did the universe just… hand-select your worst nightmare and present him to you on a silver platter with a “roommate” label on top??? you must’ve committed serious sins in a past life. something had to explain this level of karmic retribution. and the worst part? his message was SO normal..?

“hey, saw your post in the housing group. looking for a roommate too. can split rent 50/50. i cook, clean, and don’t mind noise.” 

like he TOTALLY didn’t dedicate all of high school to ruining your life one petty move at a time. same person that made that joke that you can’t even remember but only could remember how painful it was to hear..

this couldn’t be real.

so you simply closed the app.

reopened it.

the message was still there.

you closed it again.

restarted your phone.

reopened the app again.

kang taehyun. your only offer. so yeah. you were either about to make the worst decision of your  life or become one of those delusional people who think they can ‘emotionally detach from reality and live in denial’ … i mean taehyun, sure was a jerk to you—but that was a while ago. and he was pretty nice to his family?- so maybe it wouldn’t be that bad- maybe he’d somehow forget about you and you wouldn’t have to relive that awkward tension again..

either way, rent was due, you had to make a choice. so you did, you accept kang taehyun offer

“hey! sounds great, you can come over this friday around 11am if that’s good? just to checkout the apartment and whatnot :)!” 

you hit send, you stared at your phone after hitting send. and almost instantly he thumbs up the message—

yea, you were really doing this…

———

i mean yes, you DID tell him to come by exactly at “11am on friday”and yes. it is exactly 10:55am ON friday—i mean you knew this day would come sooner or later just not exactly THIS soon…

after nervously walking in circles around the apartment—going through ever possible cringy scenarios, you decide to sit at one of the bar stools at the counter. anxiously tapping your nails against marble slab… it’s not like you weren’t  totally about to make the WORSE decision of your life sharing an apartment with the same person that literally made your life miserable?

“ughhhhhhh” you groaned into your hands

i mean you MAY or MAY NOT have stalked his instagram after agreeing to let him check out the place—it’s the only responsible thing to do right? gotta see what type of person he was…right? totally wasn’t absolutely drooling over him?? OKAY maybe he had gotten a little more attractive than you remembered and sure you hated him with all your guts but you did have a little crush buried under all that hate… 

i mean god—the way he’d really grown out of that boyish look…  every picture looked handcrafted by god. 

he posted a mirror selfie in a hoodie and you literally had to sit down after whispering “sir” out loud. to your phone. 

oh my god. 

his skin looks like it’s made of soft light. he could step on m-

ding

you looked down at your phone to see his messages:

“hey are you home? i’ve been knocking for a bit”

HE WAS HERE??(yes. in fact he was. it was currently 11:03am.) you jumped up out of the stool, nearly tripping over your own foot—your hands frantically smoothed down your shirt, running through a thousand phrases to greet him with. you unlocked the door. and there he was. kang taehyun, in the flesh. and somehow even more annoyingly good-looking in person?? like actually unfairly attractive. and tall. why was he taller??? when did that happen??

“hey, thanks for letting me see the place.” he said casually, as if the universe wasn’t actively mocking you by being in this situation even. you forced a smile, one that carried years of unresolved trauma.

“long time no see, taehyun.”

he blinked.

you waited.

still blinking.

“y-y/n???” he finally blurted, eyes wide like he just got hit in the face with a textbook. “it’s actually you??”

you raised an eyebrow. “who else would it be?” you shot back, arms crossed.

he ran a hand through his hair and groaned. “jesus—i didn’t think it’d actually be you. i thought maybe someone else just had the same name or something.” you scoffed. “so… you didn’t recognize me from the post?”

“no! like, not at all. you didn’t have a profile picture—just a dog icon and a very vague ‘about me’ which could honestly describe like, half the student body.??” 

you crossed your arms. “yeah, well, desperate times.” you tried to sound unbothered, edgy and totally not like you were on the verge of loosing your place if he didn’t agree“damn….” he mumbled quietly. stepping inside anyway. 

“you must really need help with your rent, huh?”he snorted “you’re literally the one who responded to my post.” it was already starting again the bickering. he shrugged like it didn’t matter. like everything was a game and he was already winning.

you followed behind him, watching him scan the place, of course he didn’t say it, but you could tell—he liked it. he liked this 

“place is nice,” he finally said, hands in his pockets. he looked around, then turned to face you. “this still sucks though”

you blinked. “what?”

“you and me. same roof. not exactly a dream team, right?” you stared. “wow, look at you—still insufferable.”“and yet,” he said, smirking, “you still agreed  to share with me”

“again. desperate times.” you cut him

off, glaring at him from the counter. he walked up to you slowly yet so deliberately, arms crossed. backing you into the counter “right. so we’re clear then? we’re not gonna do the whole ‘we’re best friends now we’ll forget about old stuff’ thing?“

you rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. 

“oh, thank god. i was actually worried you might’ve grown up.”he smiled like ACTUALLY smiled... and then he spoke now he was towering over you 

(i mean you both were basically almost the same height be goodness he felt taller by a lot…)  

“yeah, just not in places where you’re concerned.” you blinked, WHAT? he’s grown up-  IN PLACES?? WHAT PLACES? WHERE? was he talking about his body-?!  you literally were internally screaming but on the outside you kept the calm façade—

“no promises though” he continued

you clenched your jaw. taking a deep breath (which was more for your mental sanity than anything)

he smiled wider.

“so… we doing this?” he asked, way too casually. “roommates?”you stared at him.

every bone in your body said don’t do it.

“…yeah. sure, we can do this.” “cool,” he said, pushing off his feet and tossing you a lazy thumbs up. “don’t worry. i’ll try not to ruin your life this time.”

you gave him a look.

he winked.

you shut the door in his face—not completely, but just enough to get the last word. and just like that, it’s begun all over again.

———

somehow you’ve successfully managed to avoid all interactions with taehyun, 

I mean sure you’ve had an unhealthy amount of bickering with him. 

petty argues and some very—VERY embarrassing moments during class, which may or may not have been from you raising your voice louder than necessary to get your point across to your seat mate 

(aka taehyun) 

due to him testing your patience. 

but aside from that you’ve successfully ignored him despite having to also live with him! 

somehow working together to pay rent on time and keep the place pretty clean

and thankfully you’ve outgrown your childish crush over him (or convinced yourself that you have)

i mean sure taehyun was really smart, witty, always was ready with quick, sharp—calculated replies which should’ve frustrated you more than anything but something about the way the corner of his lips would curl into a smirk, his teeth slightly showing and his eyes having that knowing look.

that look of ‘yeah, i know you enjoy this stuff’ 

that made your heart flutter wayyy more than it should have

and when you’d think of a quick reply—one that would actually catch him off guard. he would run a hand in his hair, that was one of your personal favorites.

WAIT wait

no 

no… 

you definitely did NOT like him.

 he was a jerk to you only. 

he treated everyone else normally, not to mention that joke he made about you. the one you couldn’t remember but you know the damage it did and you swore you’d do everything to make Kang Taehyuns life horrible. 

is what you kept telling yourself but goodness it was hard—anytime you would feel yourself starting to swoon for him you’d recite that to yourself like a ritual, as if that’d change your fast developing feelings for him. 

but as of lately, it hasn’t been working.

 so you decided to completely distract yourself from him and get an entirely new love interest!

yes! this is a very horrible thing to do.

poor eunwoo was a victim to one of your insane plans… 

he was really smart, not top of the class smart like taehyun but he was up there—he was funny too, his dimples would show before he even started smiling. he was too cute really.

you had the courage to talk to him and exchange numbers, and well things were going pretty smooth. 

it wasn’t like “oh yeah we’re officially dating” smooth—but it was a good start to take your mind off of your developing feelings for taehyun. 

in fact it didn’t take your mind off of him, it made it VERY worse…

which taehyun started noticing. 

despite you feeling like he cheated his way through class through the favor of his teachers—taehyun was actually very observant and very much so noticed your obvious stares at his lips during the two of yours bickering. 

the way you’d swallow lightly, part your lips, and look down at his lips like you were making it your personal goal to seduce him (maybe a little bit)

of course taehyun never panicked, not outwardly at least but the steady unease he felt.

 that tension that coiled in his stomach… when you both shared in your daily routine bickering—he felt his self control slip.

those cute pink shorts you’d wear. the way you’d fiddle with the ends of the shorts when you got annoyed—like you were begging for him to slip it off and just take care of you right there

fuck.. he could feel himself getting worked up thinking about it. and to make things a lotworse.

you lived in the same apartment

the same space

you were always a hallway apart and that made it more torturous. and now it was february 13th, the day before valentine’s day. 

well technically it was already february 14th since it was past midnight but who cares about technicalities…

you were making a gift for eunwoo in the kitchen. trying your best not to make too much of a mess because—if he (taehyun your insufferable roommate) found out. 

he would never let this go… 

today you had spent all day earlier picking out cute chocolates from very odd looking shops.. "fancy imported chocolate" labeled from a very quirky looking boutique... 

you didn't bother to read the label too carefully (it was cute, and you were flustered). 

the ladies there eying you up and down telling you that you needed to buy “other exotic toys” that made you pay and rush out the shop as fast as possible feeling flustered to what they were possibly alluding too.. and then the cute little plushies you’d found for him!

and well, you thought this would be the perfect time to prepare the cute little gift for him since taehyun was out cold asleep 

you were assembling the gift and remembered the card you had wrote for eunwoo was left in your bedroom—the card you wrote was simple at best, you didn’t know if he had felt the same way or already had someone in mind so you decided to keep the card neutral  mostly 

“happy valentine’s day eunwoo~ i hope you like these chocolates and the small plushies… maybe we can hangout sometime? xx”

you were absolutely sure your plan was smooth and bulletproof, there’s no way this could fail… 

until 

you heard noise coming from the kitchen.

you were sure you were the only awake

you saw taehyun leave the house, come back talking about how tired he was and waltz into his room… 

you hadn’t heard one of the hallway doors open

you felt chills run down your spine and your heart started to race, you grabbed the nearest object in your room. 

a hello kitty vase—a new piece you got to fill your very empty desk.

you slowly walked out your room,

step-by-step you walked down the hallway, lifting the vase—and—and?!

“taehyun?!” you screamed, causing his eyes to shoot up. you caught him mid way eating the chocolates you had put together for eunwoo “what the hell are you doing?!” you yelled, rushing over—sitting the vase down on the counter 

you looked down on the counter, different packages were scattered but one particular chocolate tin you had spent the most on, was opened—the heart shaped chocolates eaten and the wrappers scattered all around the counter, he had ate basically all the chocolates in the tin.

you felt like out of all the things he’d done this was the lowest so far..

 “what? this wasn’t for everyone?” he cocked his head to the side, smirking slightly.

you felt tears rush to your eyes and you tried your absolute hardest to blink away the tears. 

and it happened again—the bickering

the yelling, the finger pointing. you walked up closer to taehyun looking into his eye “you knew i was giving that to eunwoo! you’re such a jerk! you-you’ve been ruining my life since i could remember and once i finally—start moving on you ruin it again!” you

 felt your heart starting to beat faster “weren’t you supposed to be asleep?! are you just messing with me—are you trying to ruin my life?!” 

you were going on and on. and admittedly you were waiting for him to reply—to give a sharp witted response but you slowly stopped speaking.. taehyuns eye contact became so—intense. 

lingering. then he finally spoke

"ooooh~desperate times, huh? going full rom-com with cheap chocolate?" 

he said breathlessly, shifting the weight on his feet. something was off

but contrast to his words, more noticeable his gaze traveled over you in a way that seemed unintentional like he acted on impulse with no control—but definitely wasn’t very subtle. he tugged at the collar of his shirt, panting now

“what’s wrong with you?” you snapped “you look insane right now…” you mumbled

taehyun closed his eyes and ran a hand in his hair and something in the air changed, thicker and warmer

"what the hell did you feed me?" he snapped. you frowned because you didn’t feed him anything 

HE went through your stuff 

“actually i didn’t feed you anything, you went through my stuff” you glared, and he cut his eyes towards you.

 “but fine i’ll check since you look like you’re about to have a full on allergic reaction” you huffed. 

mumbling something about you ‘wouldn’t mind if he choked to death’ 

you grabbed the chocolate tin to read the ingredients. squinting your eyes to make out the small cursive writing and oh my god..  your eyes widened. gulping slightly 

"Sensual Delight~Arousal~enhancing truffles. infused with natural aphrodisiac herbs.”

your stomach dropped.

and your head snapped up to where taehyun was leaning on the kitchen counter, now more flushed and to what looks like he was slightly trembling.

you looked back down to read it again to make sure you read that right, and oh no.. the chocolate was definitely real. he was definitely starting to feel it now.

"t-taehyun" your mumbled, panic creeping in slowly but surely steadily 

“don't freak out, kay?” 

he was already sweating, eyes looking hazy—his pupils were blown wide, and his skin looked too warm, like his body was trying to keep up with something it didn’t understand. something it shouldn’t be feeling 

“i don’t know what aphrodisiac are but- it says something about arousal enhancing—erotic chocolates for the night-“ you mumbled and you swore you saw taehyuns eyes turn red 

you would feel threatened but then you  noticed the boner that was painfully obvious right now… you knew he wanted to be mad but—the effects of the chocolate were running overdrive due to how many he actually ate (aka almost the entire tin)

“what the hell y/n?! you’re telling me you don’t know what the fuck aphrodisiacs are? you just drugged me and—and now your telling me not to freak out?-!" he rose his voice as he spoke, leaning his head back. 

panting like a dog at this point

"it was—! i didn't know, okay? I thought it was just chocolate. It was supposed to be for eunwoo … you weren’t even supposed to eat those and i swear i didn’t know what it was?!—" 

you said it with such genuine remorse it kinda made him more pissed off, the fact you really were planning to give these chocolates away. 

eunwoo would’ve been the one worked up, and he started thinking about the things he would’ve done to you while the two of you were alone… 

he took a step forward and you took a step back instinctively, which only made him tense further

“it was for eunwoo is what you mean right..” the name leaves his mouth like it's toxic

 then softer, and somehow worse

"why the fuck is it always eunwoo—huh? you think pretty boy eunwoo is gonna really like these chocolates? did you really not know what these were? you think i believe you’re that naive?” 

he backed you up to the fridge

“taehyun no—i really didn’t-“ he scoffed walking closer to you “was it your goal to get him hard and horny huh?” he clicked his tongue “little slut wanting to drug him up? wanted him to fuck you senseless?” taehyun bit his bottom lip, chewing it between his teeth. laughing softly “cause i’m really horny right now and god it hurts so bad and i wouldn’t mind doing that” he groaned letting a sigh slip from his lips.

your back hit the fridge door. 

your eyes looked glossy.. mind hazy at the thought and you’d hate to admit but—the thought of it was turning you on more than you’d like to admit, thighs squeezing together 

"don't-don't look at me like i'm some freak. i didn't ask for this." he gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. 

the tent in his pants incredibly obvious right now. 

“god y/n i just wanna kiss you senseless” he leaned his head down to your neck, and you felt your pulse rise… the way he was sniffing you like an animal—the way you could tell he wasn’t using a single thought right now

“admit that you were a jerk for eating the chocolates” you mumbled looking at him.

 he groaned “y-y/n…you don't understand what it's doing to me, come on—you can’t get me horny like this" he whined “i can’t even think straight—everything is so hot and hazy and the only thing i can think about is you touching me” he swallowed

he whined his last few words, he was pressing onto you. and more than you’d like to admit… eunwoo was out the picture, you almost felt bad for taehyun—and thoughts of helping him seeped into your brain 

he took a deep breath, inhaling your scent "you smell like something i want to bite into, and god .. i can't stop thinking about your mouth on mine” 

you couldn’t breathe. 

you started feeling this rush in your blood, this urge to give into him… the more you tried to convince yourself that you really had no feelings for him the more you wanted to give in—your voice lowered into a whisper

"then why don't you?"

a pause. 

beat. 

stillness.

WHAT? you wondered why you even said such a thing—then he tore himself away from you like it physically hurt 

"because you didn't mean to give me those fucking chocolates," he said bitterly. biting his lip so hard you swore it was bleeding.

he stepped away. and for some reason you stood there, pressed against the fridge wishing he would’ve just taken you there. 

despite you repeating to yourself “he was a jerk—i could never blah blah blah-“ you were honestly starting to 

want to give into the urge of letting your impulses win… to forget about what happened.

you wouldn’t right? 

he hurt you but to be fair, although he did go through your stuff for eunwoo (and you honestly weren’t even that mad about) 

it’s not like you hadn’t purposely got into eunwoo to keep your mind off taehyun and get under his skin…

so somehow you convinced yourself to go to his room and apologize…at least try too—this wasn’t totally impulsive? 

won’t be wrong to go into his room right??

the walk down too his room felt excruciatingly dreadful the tension was so strong and admittedly you started feeling that tension pool in your stomach, you knew you should’ve left him alone but—you were greedy and somewhere deep in your heart you’d always wanted this 

taehyun was in his room, back leaned against his door—low sound leaves his throat, frustrated and helpless. 

he shouldn’t have did this, he’d never had aphrodisiacs before but he knew what it did. 

it physically built off of tension, it thrived off of friction

 he knew touching himself would make it worse but god…it hurt so badly and he thought maybe palming himself over his pants would stop the tension 

he gasped and whispered into the empty room…to the ache in his chest and lower

"fucking hell, m’gonna cum …."

he bit his lip to to hold in his moans. he cursed. again. his eyes fluttered shut

"what's h—hhhah—ppening to me” he groaned as he pressed down, this was a record… he was already about to cum after exactly thirty seconds of languidly, messily palming himself.  

god he was feeling so sensitive… and he did actually cum—mewling out on accident, the moans ripping through his throat—“hhahhh- s-shit shit m’cumming-“ he mumbled to himself barely holding himself up. 

he felt weak, shaky and to make things worse. it didn’t help at all, it only enhanced his urges more

taehyun never regularly jerked off—but he was feeling so needy and desperate he didn’t care anymore. fumbling to unbutton his pants—his movements pausing when he heard the knock on his door…

"taehyun?" your voice was quiet, guilty. "can i come in?"

he stiffens at the thought of you walking into a room so small with him 

"no"

"i—just-listen, i really didn't mean for that to happen, i came to say-"

"i said no"

it was silent…

you looked down at his door knob, he did tell no.. but it wouldn’t hurt to see if the door was locked—right

 you twisted the door open and to your surprise it wasn’t locked 

"taehyun? i know you're mad—and rightfully so—" you said quietly as you walked into the room, eyes widening at the sight of him leaning against his desk 

“y/n?!” he shouted “w-what are you doing i’m-“ he was still huffing heavy breaths out, his entire body flushed and damp from sweat.

“i-im trying to talk to you but you keep running off—! and you keep saying confusing things and—i just want to help..” you mumbled looking at the sight of him

you did really start to feel bad for him…he did looked really—really bad—but did you really want to help him or were you just being greedy again? (surprise you didn’t really wanna help him!!)

he spoke again-voice cracked broken

“y-y/n... stop” he whined “you don't get it” 

you stared at him, shaking your head ‘no’

he took slow steps towards you "i don't curse. i don't need to curse, because I'm supposed to be the smart one—the guy who keeps it together. but i'm losing it—every time i try to stop thinking about you, it just gets worse."

you gulped, the room feeling smaller and hotter. you should’ve nodded, walked out the room. 

you shouldn’t have even let yourself catch feelings for him. 

you shouldn’t have even agreed to let him share the apartment with you but you didn’t know when to stop hm? 

he stopped right in front of you, his gaze snaps to “It's like it's rewiring me, making me see you all—weird. i can’t tell if i’m horny because of the chocolate or just you…i hate you for what you do to me and all you ev-“ 

everything in your mind was telling you don’t do it but you couldn’t take it anymore, impulsively you pulled the collar of his shirt and smashed his lips onto yours—he gasped stumbling forward. it wasn’t long until his fingers latched onto your waist, his hands traveled swiftly—mapping out the expanse of your body. 

the kiss was messy to say the least, his tongue pushing past your lips. 

his brain completely shut off, finally letting the aphrodisiacs take control. his hands squeezed all over you, grabbed and pulling you to sit down on the bed.

the ache in his legs feeling more pronounced—something he couldn’t ignore now. 

hurting to be point he couldn’t help but press his hand against the bulge, gasping into your mouth once he felt the friction. hips pathetically rubbing against himself—bucking into his hand.

he broke away from the kiss with a high whiny moan, so spent from just touching himself over his pants, panting against your lips. eyes blown wide and glossy staring deep into you “hhahh—y/n can you pleeaase touch me? please-please-please?” he kissed down your neck with such urgency 

you were hesitant until you felt his hand guide yours onto his bulge. his hands digging into the soft flesh of your waist as his lips worked on your neck. 

his now free hands grabbing at every part of you while he humped into you like a feral dog in heat

he was kissing—biting—licking down your throat until he felt you squeeze him over his pants. and he’s pretty sure he had came just from the friction of that “hhhahh—d-don’t squeeze sssso hard” he whined.

 eyes shut tightly, head buried in your neck as his body slumped against yours. despite his whimpers he shamelessly started grinding against your hand, panting against your neck. 

with your hand rested right on top of his bulge you started to feel and notice (the very obvious!!) sticky wet patch forming on his pants from the amount of times he’s came—once you realized that… something in your brain flipped—sure you felt bad (to some degree) that he was so hard and horny but think of the possibilities!!

you could finally get back at him for all those times he’d made your life hell! 

and your brain started running with possibilities—but your hands moved faster—palming him again 

and the whimpers he let out were… 

sinful to say the least …

and you started to rub your thighs together faster. maybe getting too carried away at the thought ..

 “w-wait slow-slow! to hard—hahhh—i think i’m gonna c-cum-“ he stuttered, tears forming in the corner of his eye “its s’good—m’cumming!! c-cumming-!” he’d whine out for the fifth time, gasping air while bucking into your hand trying to get any more possible friction that he could use to ride out his high. 

“ahh- y/n ttthank you- thank you“ he said between puffs of air—leaning his forehead against yours—“i-iit hurt s’much” his eyes glossy with tears from how good it felt

and you almost started feeling bad…well clearly you didn’t feel that bad because shortly afterwards you made him beg to just get touched by you.

and he did it oh so willingly you would’ve forgot this was the same boy who acted like he was better than you daily

you started to push him back against the headboard of his bed “mm-what are you doing?” he spoke breathlessly—his back slumped and hair messily stuck to his forehead. his boba eyes staring up at you through his hair 

ignoring his question—you swung your legs over his hips—rocking your hips side to side as you straddled him. the quiet curses and whines didn’t go unnoticed 

you pulled down his sweatpants and his boxers in one go, his cock springing free. your mouth went dry at the sight…he was really really big—his member flushed and sticky from the amount of precum (and cum) he’d already let out… 

little spurts just spewing just from the cold air hitting the sensitive tip

and not to mention the faces he made…

pure ecstasy as his dick got impossibly more erect. his whimpers and moans muffled as he tried to swallow them in

the sight of him made you lick your lips because, as much as you hated to admit it… you’d been waiting for this day (well maybe not exactly this scenario) but! an opportunity to be control over him like this felt so powerful!!

you drug your finger up his base, one by one wrapping your fingers around him. 

you could feel his body trembling at the contact and the lewd sound he made when you started stroking was so erotic it could only make you rub your thighs together tighter

you slapped his member—emitting a loud moan from him “dd-don’t do this to me y/n” his words slurred. 

the sight of him, head thrown back, slumped on the bed was so pleasing. 

with that warm feeling pooling up in your stomach you couldn’t help but grind onto him as your hands stroked him. his eyes shot open and his hands flew you your waist, gripping onto you 

“ahhh! s-sshit! s-stop stop!” he begged  “it’s too s-ssensitive” he whined, but his body said another word. as it matched the pace you were grinding into him, mindlessly bucking up into you  

drool forming on the corner of his lips from how dumbed out he was

“so dirty” you huffed trying to control your breathy gasps “i bet you wanted to get horny like this mmhm? little whore knew what these were and you ate them so you could hard yeah? get touched? wanted to cum by me yeah?” 

he shook his head weakly barely forming a sentence “nnno—i sswear!—i-i didn’t know you- you’re the one who bought them—hahh—you wanted e-eunwoo horny” his moans getting more breathy as his body couldn’t help but cum again, his back arching. the tears from the corner of his eye started to fall down his face “ahh y/n” tears falling from his eye “ss-sso sensitive” his voice cracked—hands weakly gripping onto you to stop your movements.

you kept stroking him even after his orgasm, rubbing his mushroom tip—pushing your thumb into it…

squeezing his dick was enough to have his head thrown back, eyes rolling  as he spurt out ropes again crying about how great it felt 

you lifted up your now sticky hand up to his jaw, forcing him to look at you smashing your lips onto his. the kiss was a fight for dominance and control—you forced your tongue into his mouth, teeth clashing against yours

meanwhile taehyuns hands found its way under your shirt, groping at your breast from over your bra causing you to break away from the kiss for a moment 

“don’t fucking touch me” you breathed out earning a whine from taehyun “bbut i need something to hold” he swallowed. 

you didn’t bother replying, rolling your eyes at his response. “take this off” you mumbled fingers pulling at his shirt before connecting your lips back to his” hands planted on either side of his face 

taehyun would like to think he was about to gain a sliver of control for a moment but he felt himself getting hard again and he hated to admit the fact he was willingly letting himself think through his dick, so willingly to tear off his shirt for you 

once he took off his shirt, you rested your bare hands on his chest. bitting your bottom lip slightly at the feel of his  skin under your hands. feeling the goosebumps that flooded through his skin.

suddenly it started feeling a bit too good…it wouldn’t be that bad to indulge right? 

your lips planted onto his neck—then his collarbone, leaving bite marks on his skin. precum dribbling down his cock, he his hands shamelessly caressing your body. feeling you up squeezing your soft skin “hahh—yy/nnn c-can i suck your tits-?” he licked his lips, looking at your eyes like a begging child

you scoffed against his skin but then you thought about it… maybe you could indulge a little? he seemed eager anyways (honestly you were just as turned on as he was) 

so you nodded, you leaned back. he rushed to take off your shirt, then latching his lips onto your exposed skin. hands fumbling to unsnap your bra before he finally unhooked it,  eyes falling to your tits that fell out your bra “f-fuck you’re so pretty, the way they just fell out…” he bit his lip “can i touch them? like-like grab them?” 

he started grinding his hips against yours needing friction, his dick rubbing against your clothed core

“you don’t have explain it” you swallowed closing your eyes trying to gain and form of sanity back. “just do it..” you nodded giving him the permission. he wasted no time before he started squeezing at them “god- it’s so soft” he mumbled, 

his cock spurting little bits of creamy liquid out..

he was practically drooling when his mouth latched onto your nipple, the whine he let out as he sucked… his free hand squeezing and rolling your nipple in his fingers

as much as you tried to fight the small breathy whines and quiet moans fighting to leave your mouth—

you couldn’t help but let some escape as your back arched into his touch

your hands finding his hair, pulling at it lightly. “agh—taehyun-“ you moaned as his lips left one side to move to your other breast, kneading the one he finished working on with his hand. 

his drool falling all down your chest. 

you cupped his face before separating him from you chest, he whined at the loss of contact yet his hands still cupped your breast 

he was about to complain before you you pushed his swole lips onto yours, he completely melting into the kiss

you pushed him back against the headboard, hastily peeling your shorts and underwear off. underwear sticky from your arousal 

taehyun groaned, feeling dribbled of pre leak out of him. watching as your thumb swirled on his tip “a-are you gonna put it in?” he huffed out

“if you stop talking—then yeah maybe i will” you nodded as stroked him languidly 

he hummed which sounded more like a needy moan, you took a shaky breath before rubbing his tip against your folds, biting your lips to hold in your moans (which didn’t work as well as you thought)  

his head lolling back, as you rubbed against him. “—y/n m’gonna c-cum” he moaned 

“if you cum m’not letting you in” you said breathlessly—and he nearly cried because he had so many aphrodisiacs he couldn’t even stop it… his face flushing bright red as bits of cum spewed out “f-fuck that isn’t fair y/n i-i can’t” he whined…biting down on his lip “m’trying so hard” he mumbled 

god it was so cute watching him like this… you didn’t even bother preparing yourself for his length—you were just as hungry, no greedy as he was for you—you guided his tip to your entrance sinking down into him completely taking him all in, you and taehyun moaning in sync. the sudden sensation for taehyun and the burning stretch—filling your body with a burning fire that turned into delicious pleasure 

your hips grinding into him to settle in just before you lifted up—then slamming down onto him, causing his hands to hold you in place 

“w-wait m’still sensitive don’t move” he choked out—his body however moving on it’s own, bucking up into you… the quick friction making taehyun see stars  the new sensation of your gummy walls fluttering around him made his vision blurry

he moaned out as his creamy liquids filling you causing your walls to flutter around him “f-fuck!” he whined realizing what happened. he just came inside… tears started welling in his eyes as he started rambling “i-i can’t believe that happened—i-i’m so sorry s-shit” he spoke as his hips steadily rocked into yours his body craving that friction 

after recovering from the stretch and taehyuns premature cum you grabbed his jaw forcing him up “shut the fuck up” you snapped before lifting up and sinking down. enjoying a sweet moan from him

curse the aphrodisiacs making him so sensitive because the sudden stimulation on his cock causing him to drool “hahhh—i-it hurts-it hurts-it hhurts” he moaned as he lifted his hips up to match your thrusts 

“o-one minute it feels good and the next your ww-whining it hurts which one fucking is it?” you groaned feeling his tip push against you causing you to moan “s-shit y/n this is so crazy-“

he panted as his hips thrusted up into yours like a dog in heat “y/n it feels so good— f-fuck when i saw your name on the housing… i was hoping it was you” he moaned “wanted it to be you so bad”  he gasped feeling his orgasm nearing “wanted you to ride me like this” he whined 

your throat went dry at the thought—was this the chocolates speaking? 

was this because of the high he was nearing? 

you felt your stomach turn at the thought but you pushed it aside kissing his lips

his hands moving to roll your nipples between his fingers, feeling your high nearing—you rubbed your fingers over you sensitive bud—feeling the tight tension snap. your movements slowly as your cum spilled over his cock

taehyun already sensitive from his previous orgasms and the aphrodisiacs chased his orgasm, holding you hips and thrusting into you. following you shortly afterwards 

and he swore he saw stars 

his head falling back against the headboard as he came down from his high, his body buzzing from sensation—his eyes hazy

coming down from your high you, slid out of him—falling aside him, breath heavy as you looked up at the ceiling. 

taehyun completely spent, heavy breathes filling the room 

everything in your life was starting to change at that very moment 

because in your mind you were replaying everything that happened and now you were longing to hear him say those words again that he wanted to be roommates with you 

that he was hoping you were the same person he thought you were on the housing

-

taglist - @mercylvrrr @lovesickchoi @gildedsilk @boba-beom @lwhyuka @parkweylyn @bingsoob ty for wanting read!❤️

-

a/n : please please please reblog or comment if you liked~ also if you have any fic requests please send them my way!

[hyukascampfire]

TO: SOMEONE FROM A WARM CLIMATE ... ❨ O6 ❩ ⸺ 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴

𝓘N WHICH 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗓𝗓𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾. "𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾, 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎?" 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗎𝗉 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗉. "𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝗍," 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗌. "say what i am."

faerie!𝗍𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇 ╱ faerie!𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗇 · ƒ ! r 15k 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗒 ⸺ smut, angst, unprotected sex, mentions of past trauma, kissing scars, yandere themes, oral f rec, overstimulation, cumming on belly, power play, jealousy and possessiveness ｡ ( playlist )

← rꫀׁׅܻblogs & asks arꫀׁׅܻ always apprꫀׁׅܻciatꫀׁׅܻd! ♡(ᗒᗣᗕ )՞ →

🪶 ⦂ look what's finally out. i almost shed a tear formatting this post. i've missed this series so much. hehe. did i shed a few real tears over this? yes. i know that this part is shorter, and i did cut some stuff out, but i think that it packs the biggest punch. things HAPPEN. there is no meandering here.

“Tomorrow?” Beomgyu says. He’s laid with his shoulder pressed to yours, watching the ceiling the same lazy way you do.

Tomorrow. Leave it to Taehyun to spring stuff on you. Just when this place started feeling like home, here you go packing. You suppose you could stay here with Beomgyu and stick your head in the sand, but what good would that do you? You can’t pretend that the world will stop moving around you if you do. It won’t. Ancient powers will still be toeing at war, and Taehyun will still be general, and you will still be too near to the center of it all than you ought to be. They are indelible truths, so whatever. You’ll go to that war camp with him, if it’s for the best. 

For tonight, though, you’ll enjoy Beomgyu’s presence. You almost want to ask him to come with you, but to the kelpie, being dragged into some meandering court war is worse than being left here by himself. Truly, he’ll probably be here thriving by his lonesome. Kelpie is as kelpie does.

You echo the word with a sigh. “Tomorrow.”

He turns to you, mischief sparkling in his mud eyes. Even without words, you know exactly what that look’s supposed to be saying.

“Don’t even start,” you say, elbowing him. “I was just beginning to think that I might miss you. Of course, you had to remind me of your nagging…” There’s no real bite. You’re never really annoyed, and Beomgyu doesn’t really care to run away. 

Well, he might. You like to think that he’d at least look back twice were he to get the chance to make his grand escape for the treeline. But this conversation is more of a strange, unconventional comfort for the both of you than it is a genuine consideration.

“You’ll miss the nagging most.” He turns props himself up on an elbow. “Will you talk with the grass stalks when you’re there? The Lord isn’t much for words, and you love to hear your own.”

Gasping, you glare. “Are you calling me annoying? That’s not fair coming from you. You love the sound of your own voice more than any faerie I’ve known, and you love the sound of your own voices.”

Of course, Beomgyu takes pride in that. “I do tell a story good. You should love my voice, too.”

He’s awful, but you laugh. He’s right enough. There was a time, when you first brought him here from his forest, that you’d talked to him for so long into the night that your voice went raw. You had never talked so much in your life.

“I guess the grass will have to do.” You interlace your fingers on your belly.

“They are quite humorous.”

“Whatever, liar,” you snort.

“Oh, but they are.” Sitting up, Beomgyu’s snarled hair hangs as he looks down, impish amusement bursting at the seams of his face. “Such a human thing; to think that because you don’t know it, then it can’t be how it is. Everything has something to say, you just don’t hear it.”

Blinking, you look at him. “I guess that’s true,” you say. You’d always known that there was a lot about the world that you didn’t know, but you are reminded of that more than ever these days. Even just in little things like this. “I wonder how it’ll be.”

Beomgyu looks a little bit less playful. “You’ll need to watch yourself. Humans don’t go to faerie war camps. They won’t be glad to have you there. The Lord thinks he’s protecting you, but our world is feeling the unbalance. Not even his mind, as sharp as he thinks it is, can predict what’s unpredictable.”

How terribly ominous is that. “Do you know something I don’t?” you ask, releasing a short breath for a laugh and fiddling with the trim of your pillow that you’d made pretty with gold swirls.

Beomgyu shoots you one of his eerie, knowing grins that leaves you unsure whether you should laugh with him or worry about what it means. 

“What?” you say, giving him a contemptuous frown instead. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You’re reminded of when he’d told you similar things when he’d helped with your geas. You will never be whole again, but you ought to savor what you’ve got left. Perhaps he does it just to mess with you, but you’ll never be sure. That’s the thing about a faerie: the moment you think you’ve understood who they are and what they’ll do, they’re different the next. Capricious and ever-changing, at least to your human mind.

You’d thought you’d known a faerie once. That’s a lesson better taught than learnt.

Or maybe what you have here, in those strange eyes and that fickle smile, is just friendship, and the things he says are just because of what he is. Maybe you’re trying to look at Beomgyu through the same cracked lens that Yeonjun had left you with. You’d been a trusting girl once. Breathing out a sigh, you take a long look at his face. Shouldn’t you let yourself be her again? Isn’t it unfair to assume the worst of him because of what another did?

“It means that I worry for you,” he says, flopping back down beside you. “And that you should be safe. I don’t wish to live in this terrible estate with just the Lord, some servants, and I.”

You blink up at the ceiling, your throat tight for whatever reason. “A lie,” you say. It comes out more as a rueful complaint than the shoddy joke you intended for it to be. It’s hard when you’re not sure whether or not you believe it to be the truth. He’s the one that said he could lie if he wanted to.

His gaze falls on you, old in its weight. “And so, if it is?” he says. His voice is gentle, or perhaps comforting, in a way you weren’t sure he could be. “Would you make yourself sick debating it? Hanging onto every word to discern whether it's a real truth or a faerie truth?”

Instead of speaking when you don’t know what to say, you turn to him and let his words wrap around your bones. 

You would, just as you always have. Out of all the people that’s not fair to, it might just be the most unfair to yourself. You’ll never know for certain, so why torture yourself trying to?

Well, if only it were that easy. If only you could know what someone intends before you give them a tender spot in your chest to leave achingly empty. To leave it bruised and a shriveled, wary husk of its former self. 

“And,” he says, full of humor, “if not you, then who would I bother asking to release me from the bridle’s hold? Not the Lord. He wouldn’t tolerate it. He’d keep me here for an eternity, was it convenient for his own plans.”

No, you don’t think he would. Taehyun hadn’t gotten Beomgyu to serve his menial needs; he hadn’t gotten him for himself. You wonder if you’ve been looking at Taehyun through that same, warped lens you’ve been seeing the rest of the world with. Did you let it bend his image into something untrue?

“Of course,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I was wrong. You are predictable. Maybe I’m with Taehyun on that.”

❆

Cutting through snow up to your calves and with a pack on your back and Taehyun’s silhouette leading the way, it’s impossible to not remember the last time you did this. So much has changed since then, and then so much has stayed unchanged.

It’s been months since you two came north. A lifetime ago. And so much has happened between the both of you, quicksand up to your ears, but you can’t say you know him that much better than you did then. You might even know less now. It’d been cut and clean—he was a dark, impolite man that saw the world down his nose.

Going west, it takes less time for frost and white forest floor to give way to green than it had when you went north. Foliage. Seeing a forest untouched by the cold’s bitter death has you breathing in the air, savoring the way it doesn’t sting your lungs. It’s fresh in a different way.

Once your feet begin to ache, you make a small camp for the night. Camp, meaning a fire made of damp wood off the forest floor that’s reluctant to burn and tree stumps to lean your back against. Good that it’s warmer here.

Taehyun gets some poor small forest animal to roast, and you brought some apples to eat on the way. The gamey tang and the sweetness mesh into something that’s not too awful, considering your circumstances. You sit down by the meek fire, holding your palms out at it. You’re not so far away from home yet that the night doesn’t at least make your bones ache with the chill.

“Did you not know until recently that they’d want you to go to the camp?” you say, trying to warm the air between you in the same way you toast your numb fingers.

With one arm propped up on a bent knee and his apple dangling untouched in his hand, he shakes his head. The fire dances an array of oranges and yellows in his eyes. “I’m their general. It doesn’t matter why I did it; if I don’t play the part, it’ll have been for nothing. If I stayed in my estate, they’d have no use for me.”

So, it was his idea. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

Taehyun purses his lips, watching the fire. Thinking about whether or not to say. “I thought it’d upset you,” he says finally after a long moment.

Unsure of what to say to that, you take a pause. Truthfully, you hadn’t expected that—that he thought it would be fine either way, that he hadn’t thought to, that it wasn’t up to him, you might’ve assumed. He was nervous to tell you that he, and by extension you, were going to have to go? He didn’t say it outright. Taehyun never would. But the thought is sweet, in a way. Your lips turn up at the corners, a soft and unexpected smile.

“I guess that’s true,” you say. You would’ve gone either way, though. The fire sizzles and pops as it eats up the wet logs, the little stack falling. “Don’t you worry about the fact that they might find out that you’re not so enthusiastic about the war? To be general?”

“As long as I do their bidding, I don’t think they’ll care what I believe in.” He shrugs. “I play general, they get to have war. If they aren’t coming to our doorstep because we were spies, that’s all I care about.”

You suppose that’s right. Neither of you are looking out to play hero, anyway. Just to survive. The both of you seem to always be doing that together. 

“What are they asking of you?” you say. If they’re moving out into camps, then something must be happening. That was inevitable. 

“The camp is near the King’s castle. Just a little north of it, on a big grass plane. They’re not looking to be sneaky anymore,” he says. “So, it could be anything.”

Nodding, you cozy back up against the tree. You hope it’s not anything too terrible. For his sake.

❆

Taehyun’s not awake by the time you stir, his arms crossed over his chest and his head back on the bark. A few early birds sing back and forth to each other from the boughs of the trees above you. It’s a sound as fresh and clear as the blue dawn sky and the dew that sparkles from the grass.

How sweet it all would be, did the bottom of your spine not pinch from the night spent upright on your ass, and were there not the unignorable muckiness that clings to your skin from a day spent walking. Dusting your palms of dirt where you’d planted them to the ground, you decide to make a trip to the gentle stream that had lulled you to sleep with its rushing last night. A bath in that water would definitely wake you up quick.

You follow the sound of it until it appears from between two trees. It just looks cold, rushing over the mud riverbank a crystal clear color. You kick off your boots and test it, gasping as it bites. You can’t help but smile at yourself—it’s exactly what you need to come out fresh enough to suffer another day of dragging your feet over the ground.

Getting in is like pins and needles. You peel your clothes off and step in up to your hips, your hisses meshing with the sounds of the morning air. Damn it, it’s cold. Ice cold, as it runs down your spine from where you cup it and wet your hair. And when you’ve gone numb to it, you feel the water rushing in between your fingers, scrubbing it over your skin, letting the crystalline coolness make you clean.

Hopefully, they’ll have some way for you to bathe there. The folk don’t need to bathe for hygiene the way you do, and they’d have no reason to bring a luxury like a tub along in that case. It’s a war camp. You wonder in what other ways it’ll be inhospitable for a human.

Maybe you’ll have to find a river, there, too—

Taehyun’s voice startles you. “You didn’t think to at least tell me you were going?” There isn’t any real bite, more like annoyance. 

You freeze, heart kicking into action so hard that you feel it. You thought he’d be asleep for at least until you got back. Covering your chest with your arms, you spin.

“Sorry,” you say, cheeks burning. Why’s this feel so… Well you don’t even know how to put it into words. He’s had his hands all over you, his lips on you, but him catching you like this just is different. Frankly—you’re flustered, aware of each inch of bare skin, water still rolling down your body and your hair laying in wet tendrils,  that he has to pretend he doesn’t see. For your sake.

Or maybe it doesn’t phase him. Your tummy flips. Would that be for the better or worse?

“I thought something happened,” he says. Curt. Short. “You shouldn’t be out alone like this. It leaves you vulnerable.” His eyes stay trained on your face—distinctly, purposefully. It’s almost humorous how stone-faced he is. Almost, if your heart wasn’t pounding in your ears.

“I wanted to clean up.” You shiver, maybe at the soft breeze on your wet skin or maybe at the redness of his ears. “I’ll tell you. Next time.” Please go, so I can put some fucking clothes on, you want to add.

“Yeah. That would be useful.” He thumbs the hilt of his sword. “Finish up and meet me back at camp. We should get going.” Unceremoniously, he turns on his heel and disappears back into the trees, spine straight.

Water falls from you as you step onto land, wringing your hair out. You’re just glad he didn’t insist on closing his eyes and staying as you dress to keep watch. 

Add that to the list of reasons the air becomes suffocating the moment you’re in proximity to him. It seems that the things you leave unsaid and unaddressed, like those words he’d said to you when he kissed you for the second time, the ones that make your spine tingle the more you pretend they didn’t happen, are sometimes heavier than what you do say.

❆

Camp is a scattering of a few tents raised on a grassy stretch, just as Taehyun had said. Their flags willow in the wind, pointed swords strewn out beside straw-stuffed dummies. 

You’re sharing a tent with Taehyun. It’s simple: two beds on opposing sides, trunks for your belongings, and nearly nothing else. You appreciate your bed at home a little more when you plop down into the cushions, but blankets and pillows are better than tree trunks and bark.

Taehyun slips in some time later. It’s dark out behind him as he does, the stars hanging above. 

“It’s certainly functional in here,” you say, running your fingers through nasty tangles in your hair like a comb. “A war camp.”

“We’ve both slept in worse.”

“Yeah, we have,” you snort, but don’t miss the distance in his voice. After a few beats, just watching him lean his sword against the wall, you ask, “Did something happen?”

He breathes out slowly through his nose, eyes caught where he’d just placed his heavy, dutiful sword. “They want to go straight for bloodshed. They thought I’d get here and just march into the fucking palace.”

You open your mouth, bracing your hands on the mattress beside you as if unsure if you want to stand up or gawk at him. “What? Just walk right up? How does that make any sense?” you say. “You said no, right?”

“Yes, I said no.” Taehyun sits on his bed and works on the laces of his boots. “It doesn’t just make no sense. It’s not how war works. Not a faerie war.”

“Were they… okay with that? You telling them no?” He’s not a general that has commanded an army at war—not his father. They know nothing but the fact that Taehyun is the General’s son and that he’s come here pretending that he’s somebody to tell them what they should or shouldn’t be doing. The faerie ego is not sympathetic to that.

He grits his teeth, jaw flickering.

No. Most definitely not. “Why go in with swords? They know that, by hospitality, they’d have to entertain us if we asked to be. A feast, a celebration of nothing, literally anything. And then we could make a quiet move while we’re in there. Battling it out in some field is ridiculous.”

Taehyun blinks. Thoughts turn in his head, visible through his eyes. “That would break the rules of hospitality, though.”

“So, they won’t see it coming. It seems better than just throwing armor on and hoping we can outnumber them. You said that the North couldn’t win this, but isn’t that only if we play by their rules? Of course they’ll do better when it’s the stakes they put up.”

“You’re good at that.”

“Well,” you say, unsure and flustered. “It just makes the most sense. I thought it’d be what you were thinking too.”

He lets his head drop into a laugh. A laugh. You don’t think you’ve ever held on to the sound of someone’s laugh the way you do the soft, mellow sound. 

You linger on the last remnants of his smile, letting its stark contrast with his usual disposition ring through your bones, as he snuffs out the candle and lets a new, uncharted kind of silence fall over the space.

You linger on it as you fall asleep, too. 

❆

The camp becomes more hollow as Taehyun takes up his role. The only time you get to see him now is when he steps into the tent too late in the night. He’s always up earlier than you.

It’s not like you have anything else to do. Other than Taehyun, this place is just an encampment of strange, hard faces and unnerving eyes that watch you as you toil through the days. Eyes that are curious as to why you’re even here. You start to wonder the same, under their scrutiny. It certainly feels like you shouldn’t be. 

You know better than to stick your nose in their business or to try and make friends. Instead, you whittle time down with practicing on the fine, veneered bows and taking your needle to any tattered old fabric you see. 

Today, you snatched one of Taehyun’s simple black tunics to work away at. All you’d brought in your pack when you had stuffed your essentials in there was some black thread. So you stitch blackthorn branches around the cuffs even though nobody would notice unless they cared to look.

You thread and you thread, letting the world blend into nothing as it always does when you work with your hands like this. The sun sinks from its peak, casting golden afternoon warmth onto your skin from in between tents. You focus on that. When you were a girl, you did the same thing with the goldspun threads you had then. It’s one thing you had for yourself.

Only the sound of something different draws your attention enough to drag you away from decorating the cuffs. A familiar sound; melodic and off-kilter in the same way. Something so singular that you’d know it anywhere, no matter if it made sense or not. Faerie music, and not just any faerie music.

Your feet follow the sound until you find him: a flop of golden hair, freckles spackled over his nose, and music floating away from his lute like magic. Because it is magic.

But, why would he be here?

“How come I knew you’d show up right when I was looking for you?” Kai says. He has clover in his hair, of course he does, and wears a faerie smile. “You have such a strange way of finding yourself in the middle of things. Come for a dance?” He plucks a few notes like an invitation.

You can’t disagree with that. Staying put where you are, you say, “What’s a bard got to do in a place like this?”

“A faerie needs music wherever they will go,” he answers, “and none else more than us antsy for a show.” Crisscrossed in the grass, he puts his instrument down for the first time since you’ve known the strange faerie. “It would not be remiss to say that you and I are both here on equally unlikely terms. Who is to say that you are to be here and I am not, or that I am to be, and you are not?”

Beomgyu’s vernacular has made you at least a bit more accustomed to faerie turns of speech, but Kai speaks the wordiest of them all. A taleteller. That was either fully the truth, or a lie disguised somewhere in those long and gossamer words. It has to be at least partly the truth, though, because Kai is sympathetic to the North. 

Or maybe he isn’t. You can’t tell exactly what Kai is, or what he believes in, or if he likes or dislikes you, or if he’s here or there. The only certain thing about him is that you might never know.

“Okay, well,” you say, “I’ll be off then, if we’re playing riddles.”

Kai looks up at you, his brows raised presumptuously. “Why leave when you’ve only just arrived?” he says. “We are two of a kind here. I don’t see why we two can’t be friends. And, oh, do I have something that you ought to see.”

Your interest must show in your face, because he smiles and pats the ground beside him. That could mean a hundred different things, coming from him. You don’t move, eyes narrowed.

“Don’t be wary,” he laughs. It sounds something like bells twinkling in the distance. “What good would it bring me to play tricks on you? You’ll hate to miss what I’ve brought for you.”

Still not entirely convinced, but definitely intrigued, you take a seat on the ground with him, criss-crossing your legs. A gentle breeze tugs your hair one way. It’s a beautiful day. Maybe you should’ve let yourself enjoy it a little.

“Not a trick,” you say, playing with the grass beneath your fingertips. “Then what? I thought you to be the tricksy type.”

The sun gilds his silhouette, making his hair into true gold around the edges. He laughs, nose wrinkling with such joy that you wonder if it really was that funny. “You suffer trust,” he says.

It’s nothing but a flippant, passing remark. Nonetheless, it strikes you deep, because deep down you know it’s the truth. You just hate that it’s so obvious to them and their kind. You hate that everything about you is obvious to them. It’s as though they reach in and flip through your pages, while you’re stuck out here trying to figure it out yourself. Beomgyu had done the same.

The long moment in which you look at him makes him laugh again, shaking his head. “Here. Let me show you.” He reaches into a pocket.

A letter. He produces a letter. You aren’t stupid enough to pretend that it might be from Beomgyu or anybody else. Belly dropping, you know exactly who’s written to you.

“I don’t want it,” you rush out. “Keep it. Send it back to him and tell him I won’t be taking any of his letters.”

You keep telling yourself that you’re past it. Past him. No healed person has to remind themselves that they are, or has to choke down the lump in their throat at a slight reminder as this. It is achingly pathetic.

Kai seems to think so, as well. He furrows his brows. “You don’t want them? Are you not lovers?”

“No, we are not,” you lie. Or, well, it’s the truth, but it’s as venomous as a lie on your tongue. “It doesn’t matter. I wonder why he would send you all the way here just for this.” Now, it’s clear why Kai is here at this camp. 

He grins, because your reaction makes it obvious to anybody looking close enough. “Take it. Read it at least once, and then burn it if you must. I can’t leave this place until you have it.”

That doesn’t sound so awful. Tentatively, you accept it into your hands.

Kai, in a different tone of voice than before, points at the little patch of clover that you wouldn’t be wrong to assume he stole the ones in his hair from. A four leaf clover stands proud in the center of them. “Luck, it seems,” he says, “has its own say.”

What that means, you don’t know. You take his letter and burn it in a candle flame, watching the words float up in curls of wispy smoke. Not for anger, but because you know better than to do this again. You know yourself and how much you love his sweet words too much to even allow yourself to read them first.

And over the weeks the next came and then the next. You burnt those ones too. Seeing Kai becomes your routine, stepping out into fresh air to go sit with him wherever it is. A damp patch of grass, on a fallen log out in the edge of the forest, in between two tents. He’s somebody to talk to, and goodness are you hungry for that. He’ll play old songs for you, telling you stories in which you are even less sure whether or not they’re bolstered with dramatics than Beomgyu’s.

Goodness, you miss that horse. You ask Kai to take something to him for you, since he’s coming in and out anyway. The letter you get back makes you laugh out loud. In jagged, unsightly lines, he scrawled back, sending letters now, are we?  You’re just surprised he knows how to write, honestly. Would it be a cruel joke to write back and say, you’re free? Would that even work over ink? It seems that you’ll be here forever, with the way things are going now. The long haul. Taehyun wouldn’t even know Beomgyu was gone until you got back.

Nonetheless, you are certain he’s content there by himself, though it isn’t the loch he wishes it would be. 

There’s always something happening here, and you live just on the outskirts of it. You’re not sure what. Taehyun doesn’t come to tell you about it, but from what you’ve pried at Kai over, you know that things aren’t going well. You figured as much, what with the quietness that Taehyun returns with every night, the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders, and the way his face has become sharper.

The weight of a leader that he will shoulder, because he believes it to be his duty.

❆

For the first time in a while, Taehyun comes back at an hour that you’re not opening one heavy eye to watch him through. Kicking the blankets off your legs, you sit up and watch him peel his doublet over his head, the one with the Blackthorn crest in silver.

And then he takes his tunic off, and there is his back, bared to your eyes. Your stomach erupts with violent butterflies. His muscles move under his skin, precise and powerful, the movement of him throwing the fabric elsewhere showing them off beneath each jagged old wound. At the top, in his shoulder blade, is one that you recognize. 

“That looks better than when I last saw it,” you say, voice gentle with sleepiness. 

Taehyun pauses, looking over his shoulder. “I thought you were asleep. I’m sorry.” 

Tension; tension as thick as smoke in the air between you. It’s been that way for a while now. Suffocating.

“No, it’s okay.” You purse your lips. “I haven’t gotten to talk with you much. I stayed up a bit later.” The fact that it insinuates that you’ve been waiting to speak with him, you don’t address. You sleep in the same little space every night. It’s hard not to want that. 

Sitting on his bed, elbows braced on his knees and his hands clasped, he looks at you for a long moment. “Is that so?” he says. “I didn’t know.”

How could he know? It’s not like the two of you have ever been the way you and Beomgyu had. The way you and Yeonjun had. There’s always been this exact indescribable tension underlying it all between you. Something you are desperate to understand, but in the same way, deeply frightened to. 

Crossing the room, you sit beside him. “I know you’re busy,” you say, filling the candle-lit air with words. “The stitches. They helped? It doesn’t look so bad.” You lie. It’s a gnarly scar, still red and tender, but no longer an open wound. For some reason, though you don’t think another scar would bother him too much, you don’t want him to know that it’s unsightly. It’s not what he deserves to hear. He got that one carrying your poisoned self when he didn’t need to. 

There are a lot of things he did for you that he didn’t need to, and you struggle to grapple with why he did. Why he left behind a spy’s golden trove of information as if those years of his life meant nothing. Why he did a number of the things he did, when it made no sense for him to. Taehyun isn’t one who will do the kinder thing over the rational thing. So, then, why?

“They did,” he hums, his voice low. “It healed up fine. Thank you.”

There’s a few long beats of silence. You’re looking at his back, curved forward into a bend, and you blurt it. You curse yourself even as it's coming out, because it’s a ridiculous thing to ask, really.

“Can I…?” you say, a soft thing that trails off toward the end. Bringing your palm up, you hover it just over his back. 

Taehyun tenses up, but he doesn’t object.

His skin is everything that a living thing’s should not be, under your palm. Cold; bitterly so, and each long, marred line is a groove under the pads of your fingertips. His back is torn up, and then smooth muscle where it isn’t. It makes your stomach sick.

“Are these… all from him?”

The timbred rumble of his voice reverberates through your palm. “No. Not all of them.” You run your fingers over a vicious, sideways scar. Something once festering and visceral, but his skin mended into something whole once more. That jagged mark will never leave, though. “But some are.”

His voice is distant and tight. You know it’s that he thinks speaking of it is pitying himself, when he survived it already. He doesn’t see it how you do—how much it’s clear that those still bother him. Your heart clenches in your chest, but you hold back all the things brimming on your tongue. You don’t want him to think you pity him.

“How did you get that one?”

He surprises you by answering. “The day I learned I was strong enough to fight him.”

Your hand freezes on his back. You knew each had a story, but hearing them is different. “What happened?” you ask, gentle but prodding. You wonder which parts of him were built by that man, and which still remind him of it.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Taehyun says. His voice is terse; walls beginning to draw back up. 

“No, it doesn’t.” You thumb the scar he got with you, and then so very slowly, you press a soft kiss to just beside it . Your breath puffs out from your nose, warmth over the frigidity of him. 

Taehyun shudders. His heart thumps in his chest—you can hear it, up this close. An unsteady rhythm, frantic against his ribcage. When he sits up and turns to look at you, his eyes are something different. Somewhere between intense, frightened, or unsure.

Your heart mimics his. With your voice soft, you say, “I’m sorry for that one.”

Where he had walked in here a war general with hard eyes and his jaw tight, the man you see now is one who hasn’t ever known a gentle touch, who hardened himself so that he couldn’t. And yet—like a frightened, unsure animal, he lets you in just enough to know that you won’t balk at his unsightliness. Beyond just his torn-up body. That doesn’t bother you, beyond the heaviness knowing what he was made to survive leaves you. Rather, down to what he is at his very core.

❆

 Most of what you know about what’s happening comes from Kai. Not that Kai has ever shown animosity toward you—with time, you’ve come to at least enjoy listening to him playing for hours. You wish Taehyun would come to you to talk about it. Wish that he felt like he could. 

What is this, between you? Is it trust, or not? You don’t know. You don’t even know how you feel, let alone even beginning to know how he does. But with this, shouldering it all himself, it looks like maybe he doesn’t. And, then again, his favorite tunic to wear for weeks has been the one that you made pretty. The threading that only he and you would know was there. Small gestures, and whatever they mean from him.

The sentiment toward Taehyun, with the faeries here, and you’re sure back home in the North, is starting to sour toward him. His moves have all fallen apart, ended up with us worse than we started off with. You keep a distance between yourself and all of that—but even you know what’ll happen if that trend keeps up. What use is a general that will lead you into loss? They’ll rid themselves of him. 

Worse. You choose not to think about that, or the dark pit it leaves in your stomach.

It makes no sense at all. Taehyun is capable and intelligent—he doesn’t do anything without considering it. If anybody in this world was to succeed in something like this, it’s him. But suddenly he is not, and you watch it weigh on him. 

And then, there’s Yeonjun. His sending letters tells you he’s at least okay. You might make peace with receiving and burning them forever, did you still not wonder about him, or ache for somebody to hold some nights. There had been a time in your life when you had never known what it was to hold or to be held, and still you lived. A bitter part of you wishes you never did. It’s like what Beomgyu had said: You’ve only got so much of yourself. Each time you fill yourself up with our magic, you lose that space. You will never be whole again

You will never be whole again. Yeonjun’s love was magic in its own right, even if it wasn’t really. It sometimes seems like it’s a hollow, empty spot inside of you where he sat. But that’s not right. It’s that he is still there, and always will be, and you feel as much when you try and pretend otherwise. So now you are to live forever as if you didn’t know him, didn’t love him, and it aches. You cannot pretend it doesn’t.

So, sometimes, you consider whether or not it’s better to live without him forever or to forget yourself and indulge. It’s not like he ever was a pure evil. Hardly that. But when you get to thinking about how sweet he’d been, how much you enjoyed it, you remind yourself of what he did, who he’s left you as. For the better. For the better.

You worry that he really will make good on what he wrote in those letters. Regardless of what he sends you now, you choose not to look. Losing you was fresh, then. Yeonjun is not nonsensical, just hurt. You tell yourself that, anyway. 

Taehyun’s in your tent before you even are tonight, slipping in after a long evening of Kai trying to teach you the lute. As handy as you are, music seems to be out of the question. You don’t just spend time with him on days where he comes with letters—it’s most of your days, now. It’s easier that way.

His shoulders are rigid. He sits, so still and lost in thought. Sword still on his hip and still dressed down to his boots, he probably hasn’t moved since he sat there. It’s not hard to imagine what it is.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, ruffling through your trunk for something to make a snack out of. “Do they still not trust you?”

Taehyun scoffs. “They don’t just not trust me. They want me out. Not all of them, but the loud ones. They think that I’m doing it on purpose.” Laughing with a caustic edge, he shakes his head and looks at you. “I wish I was.” After a moment, he adds, “How did you know?”

“Kai said as much,” you say. Forget eating. 

A look of something akin to realization flashes over his eyes, and then he nods. “Of course. Of course.”

“...What?” you say, knitting your brows. 

“Somebody’s been telling my people that I’m a traitor. Somebody’s been making sure that each and every one of my moves goes down in flames. Somebody was sent here to do a prince’s bidding and give you his letters.”

Pausing, you frown. You didn’t think that Taehyun knew about those, but you also think that he’s just pieced that together himself. “But I’ve been with him most days,” you say. You were today, and then just the day before. “He wouldn’t have been able to.”

Jaw working, Taehyun trains his eyes on you. “Does that mean you were with him always? And that doesn’t mean that he dirtied his own hands.” He pauses, softening his tone the littlest bit. “You don’t know him as well as you think you do.”

You know that. Goodness, do you know that. You might say that he’s just avoiding considering the fact that it could be that his moves have failed, but that’s not Taehyun. If it were that, it wouldn’t bother him like this. He’d try a new approach, find a way, because he is utterly capable. That’s the problem, and why he’s come to this conclusion. Because he already knows that it’s the truth. 

“Then, should we do something that couldn’t be sabotaged?”

He waits for you to elaborate with interest shining in his dark eyes. 

Flushing, you’re reminded of the last time he trusted you enough to follow your lead, and how it ended for you. Still, he looks ready to do it again. You take a gnaw at your lip before saying, “We could do something. Us, if they’re just gonna mess it up when you send others. That way we know that it gets done, and they’ll see that it’s not your fault. They’ll trust you again, even if someone’s running their mouth.”

Taehyun thinks about that for a few moments. The silence as he does reminds you again of what you stand to lose if it went sideways. “They’re not as easy to convince as that. Not if somebody’s still in their ears, and if they’ve already decided that I’m not who they want leading their army.” A beat. “But, better that than letting it happen.”

You let out a long sigh, settling down opposite of him on his bed. Letting the silence stir between you with only your eyes speaking for a few moments, you say, “You think it’s him?” Not Kai—Yeonjun. At least, the one who would want this.

“I know it is.” His face goes hard, a sharpness you’re familiar with. “And you cozied right up with his messenger. It’s ironic.”

Gritting your teeth, you shoot back, “That’s not fair.”

Taehyun doesn’t answer you. His eyes burn with something beyond anger—an expression that you can just barely name hurt. You hold back the reflexive scoff that begs to come tumbling out like an old habit. Back to this. Searching his face, you try to find what, exactly, has him looking at you like that.

“Don’t do that,” you say. The emotion that comes out with it, straining the words, surprises you. “You’re just… shutting me out again. I thought you…” You don’t finish your sentence, but the air carries the meaning along for you. I thought you would let me in.

He doesn’t answer, but there’s a flash of something over his face. A wince. Like he wants to say something, but he can’t let himself.

“Why do you do that?” you say. Your blood roars to life in your veins, and you find your mouth straining under the weight of words you’ve wanted to say, just like it has for so long. And then it buckles. “To be honest with you, Taehyun, nothing you do makes any sense. One minute, you’re looking at me so cold that it looks like I mean nothing to you, and then another you’re… You’re saying stuff that I don’t understand. One second you won’t even speak to me, and then you’re leaving behind your life because I wanted to stay with Yeonjun. Why? Why would you do that? Why didn’t you go back and tell them I was a traitor kissing their prince? Why didn’t you get me killed? You make me think…” Your voice cracks despite you, but you don’t care if it makes him see you weak. “ It’s not fair.”

The tent falls silent, the air a thousand pounds, each beat sounding like you’ve said it now. Chills erupt over your arms, and you can take none of them back, so no matter what, you will at least finally know. Finally. Your  stomach is done so tight up in knots.

“Because I never cared about being a spy,” he says, face dropped. “Or about being general, or being Lord of an estate, or about what people thought of me either way, or about any King or Queen or wars.”

Reeling, you breathe. The slow sound of it fills the room, but the pounding of your heart in your ears roars over it. That makes no sense at all. Your mind buzzes. 

 “Why did you do any of it, then, Taehyun? What do you care about?”

His throat works. Those cold eyes have something tender in them, but not a gentle tender. Tender like an old wound that he’s long since licked clean himself, that he hates to poke and examine out loud. Despite it, he tells you. Just for you, because you tend to always need him to do so. 

“Nothing. I cared for nothing.” He’s rigid, so out of place, sat in front of you. “So I gave myself purposes.”

That word, cared, puts in context so much that you have to blink and make your head stop spinning just so that you can catch a solid thought. He cared for nothing. You have had Taehyun wrong in your head down to a ridiculous, fundamental level. Taehyun didn’t become who he is because that’s what he wanted. He was a ghost, a shell left hollowed out, floating between duties that he assigned himself just to survive, like becoming a spy, or whatever else he did. He had no goal, no place he cared to call home. Never want or let himself want anything—froze himself from the inside out to ensure it.

Cared, as if he found something to care for. Your mouth dries up, belly doing flips. Because, of course he didn’t care about leaving behind his life to follow you wherever you went, when he has been cold for so long, and he felt something. Of course he went to any lengths, no matter how unsure his motivation seemed to you then, to keep you safe. Of course he tried to mold himself into Yeonjun’s shape, as unbending and unmoldable as he is, because he felt that whatever hollowness he saw inside himself, you would not want. He knew that he was pushing you away because he doesn’t know how to nurture something like that, so he tried to veneer himself with bits of the man you were so enraptured with. Filled that hollowness up with something he thought would make you look his way—but of course he’d never say it. He couldn’t make himself, no matter how much he wanted it. Because that is who Taehyun is: a contradiction of himself.

All those time’s he’d frozen up and lashed out at you, because it was fucking killing him. Seeing you with Yeonjun. You had thought moments ago that it was Yeonjun who was the one with a bottomless sea of wants. Well, where Yeonjun wants, Taehyun needs. He will have you, because somebody who has only ever let themselves want something once is not going to just let it go.

What could you even say to that? How could you digest the bigness of it? Instead of trying, you go utterly still and wide-eyed in front of him. 

He wanted something to trust. Searching his eyes, the ones that have gotten even more wildly tender in your silence, you determine that. Taehyun had nothing and nobody, not his father, not his killed mother, not a single one of his own kind in this world, to trust.

You, hands curled into the fabric of your clothes, breath fully for the first time in a while. You think you know the feeling. You think that you have become intimately familiar with the severe lack of it. That much, you can offer him.

The words fall from your mouth floaty and ethereal. Something unreal in the orange, all-too-real glow of the space. “I understand.”

About all the things that just came crashing over your head like ice water, or about the yearning for trust, you’re not sure. Either way, you do.

❆

Crouched behind some bushes, your knees dig into the mud. In front of you, the High King’s palace stands proud, briars crawling up its walls and strange, unpredictable windows here and there. It looks more like a festival hall than a palace.

Taehyun decided that doing something, just the two of you, like you had said, was best. It’s reminiscent of where you began. The two of you, spies again. In a way.

It’s nostalgic, but then it’s also so… new. The air between you, charged with new energy, but energy that grips you all the same. So many questions were answered, but so many cropped up to fill their absence.

But this feels lighter. You can’t discern why, when it fully should leave your spine tingling. The gravity of what he feels for you should tug you straight down to the earth with the force of it. It doesn’t. Turning to where he crouches beside you, you eye the lines of his profile. Your heart does a little jump.

“Now?” you say.

“A minute. We have to wait for the watch to change.” He tilts his head up in a point gesture toward the massive door at the main entrance.

“Or, we could go in another way. I’m sure they have other doors. How can we just walk right in?”

“There could be a door in through the servant’s quarters, but…” he says, eyes flicking over to you.

“That sounds like it would be better, though. Easier.” The hall is massive—you don’t doubt they use servants to make it run.

Running a thumb over the bottom of his sword at his hip, a little thing you noticed he does, Taehyun falters. “They keep human servants,” he says.

Like Soobin. Glamoured to be brainless hands, floating like spirits around the halls to fulfill their assigned purpose. You eye its walls and think of how easily you could’ve found yourself there. Some fates are fairer than others. You wish you knew why. 

“We’ll wait until we see those watchmen leave. Then we can slip in.” He says it as fact. “We’ll search rooms. It’s not much, but we could use leverage. Anything.”

You nod slowly, and then turn to watch through the gaps in the leaves.

The watch does change, as Taehyun has said. You slip in silently, and nobody stops you. If it’s so easy to make your way into here, maybe war with them wouldn’t be so unimaginable. Your eyes dart everywhere as you do. It couldn’t really be that easy.

But it is. You split off from Taehyun. At the center, there’s an opening hall where feasts must be held. You imagine how many of those have happened there, and how many of the kinds of stories Kai tells you might’ve started right beneath that high ceiling. You don’t linger long enough for anybody to find you, but you do take in the look of the walls and imagine how Yeonjun would’ve done the same years ago. His home.

You peek your head into a number of rooms. None look like anything important, but you dip in to scan them just in case. Not counting the guards, you haven’t seen a soul. Empty; each room, empty. With how alive Court had been in the north, this is starkly not that. A dead palace. How strange, considering that the North is known for its bitterness and unwelcoming nature, and this place the opposite. It doesn’t feel that way.

You come to a room that gives you pause. It’s decorated not too differently from the rest, a bedroom as opposed to studies and other sorts of rooms, bathed in crushed velvet greens. The floor is littered with a strange array of things, surfaces dusted. It’s even more vacant than the rest of the hall, left untouched by whoever called it theirs once.

And, it’s familiar. You just get this achy, tingling feeling in your core. Bending down, you blow dust off some paint. It’s bright and colorful in ways only something from the human world is. Reds, blue, yellow, a rainbow in a little palette of dried up colors. A few unfinished, amateurish canvases lean against a wooden dresser. Decks of cards, none like any from here, scatter over the wood panelling. 

Yeonjun always did like keeping human things. Dragging in a long, deep breath, you try and see if you can catch the woody, warm scent of him, left lingering here where he no doubt spent so much time. Nothing but the musk of an empty, dusty room meets you.

Picking up a leatherbound book from the blanket, you sit and pull it open. It creaks like old leather. The pages are moth-bitten and most are blank.

In an elegant hand, you find a written page. That handwriting. You loose a steadying breath. 

It reads, They say I’d only make some stupid order that all humans would be free from our people, were I King. Would that really be so terrible? 

You wet your lips. It’s some letter that never ended up with whoever he intended it for. Seeing that he did, in fact, live a wholly different life is strange. He left it behind for reasons that you know—he hated this place. Still, seeing it all confirmed. In front of your face. The rebellion must mean a lot to him. It seems, reading these little bits left behind, that he had his reasons. And obviously, he did. Nobody leaves behind their life for no reason. The time he spent in the human world changed him. Or, it magnified what had always been there: a soft spot.

Footsteps come for the door. You snap the book shut, but the door’s already opening.

“Hey,” Taehyun says. 

Clinging to the leather, you let yourself breathe. “Hey,” you echo.

“You’re not great at being quiet,” he says, lips tilting up to one side in something that you could call almost playful. “You’re lucky that there’s nobody here. Anybody with my ears would’ve known you were in here.”

You figured as much. “Why, though? Where are they?”

“I don’t know where.” His gaze flickers around the room before landing back on you. “They have never left this hall. I thought that they would’ve just sat in here and let us right in before ever leaving.”

“Eerie…” you hum, hopping off the bed. 

“Yeah.” Thoughts swirl behind those eyes. “They were smart enough not to leave anything, either. I found nothing.”

Looking down at the book you clutch to your chest, you purse your lips. Neither had you, but no part of you wants to leave this to be gnawed on some more. So, you don’t.

❆

Pulling back the bowstring comes easier now. It creaks, your arms aching. But you release your breath in a slow, measured puff, eyes finding the center of a straw bullseye a hundred yards down.

You let it fly. It cuts the air straight and makes its mark a little left of dead center. Always a little left… You huff, arms aching. Kai plays a song that faded into background noise thirty minutes ago.

“You shoot well,” Kai says. You can hear the smile in his voice. “You taught yourself?”

Shooting him a glance, you shake your head.

“Then, the General taught you himself,” he deducts. “An interesting thing.”

“I guess. A lot of things are interesting. Like how you play music the way you do.” A deflection, more than anything.

Kai pats the face of his lute. “You’ve learned how to speak like us, though you can lie. That, of all things, is interesting. You’ve spent more time around our kind than most. Tell me, what have you learned?”

He’s no doubt collecting a story he thinks he can make into a song. A storyteller like him is always listening and watching for another. That’s one way to be immortalized in this world. “I have no reason to lie,” you say, tinted with a laugh.

“Don’t you?” he says, playful eyes watching you. 

“Don’t I?” Forget your bow—you toss it elsewhere. “Am I the one with a reason to lie?”

Cocking his head to the side, his mouth splits into a grin. Many of the folk are glad for animosity; Kai seems to be the type. He knows exactly what you mean. “You have a lot to say. I’d like to hear it.”

You do. But where do you start? Instead of asking him something that beats around the bush, something he could find a loophole in, you’ll ask him plainly. That’s a start. “Why are you trying to sabotage us? Is it because of Yeonjun? Did he ask you to?”

“He did,” Kai answers, without any flounce or fakery. Straight up. It shocks you. It shouldn’t be that easy. He could’ve just as well not answered. That might’ve been as much an answer as saying it outright, though. “Does that make you hate him?”

Freezing in place, your mouth doesn’t move to say yes. You don’t know how to answer that. You wish you did. Instead, you say, “What does he think he’s achieving? What if they find out that he’s sneaking around? It’s stupid.”

“It is,” Kai hums. The day is overcast, but his colors aren’t dulled by the grey sky. “When the prince feels, he feels it true. He makes his mind, and then he lives for it.” The way his eyes meet yours strikes you. Full of meaning. “What, then, would he change his mind on something like a purpose he believed as he did that one for?”

“I’m asking you,” you say. Yeonjun feels deeply and unapologetically, you are already intimately aware of that. From the moment he told you that his initial purpose was to identify and have you as spies killed, you have wondered how deeply he stood for the cause. That’s another thing that’s troubled you for the fact that you can’t make peace with it.

Well, since he’s here in front of you, it’s best to just ask.

“Did Yeonjun love me? Really love me?”

“He did, but I believe you know that already. That’s not what you really wonder.”

You hate that he knows. Gritting your teeth, you nod.

“You interest me, so I’ll give you this. The prince has never cared to become a king. A soft-hearted, joke of an heir. So, then, why would he have rebelled against his father if not to have his spot? Because he had one purpose, after living among your kind. The prince could never stand the way we treat you. That was enough for him to leave his home and try to change it.”

Yeonjun’s book still sits somewhere in your trunk. That lines up with what you had read. 

“The prince cares for you,” he says. “More than even that. Enough to forget what else he did. Enough to forget anything else.”

There that is again. Why does it even matter to Kai? “I’m sure he said the same plenty of times before,” you say. Bitterness, as a habit. “I don’t understand why you do what he says. What’s in it for you, if he has me back? I don’t see what you gain.” Kai, who lived always between here and there.

“He’s an old friend,” he answers. “And I know what it is to love a human. That’s all.”

You purse your lips. He was a part of the rebellion as well. As mysterious as he is, of course Kai has his own reasons. 

“Tell him that, if he does love me, then he’d stop. It’s past the point where we can go back to what it was.”

“I know that what happened hurt you, but I don’t think you really believe that.” 

He says it so matter-of-factly, so airily, that it doesn’t even annoy you. Your ears go hot with defensiveness. “You don’t know me. How would you know that?”

Shrugging, he says, “It doesn’t matter what I say. But you have a few decisions you need to make for yourself. Not for what you should do, but whatever it is that you want.”

“And, what? I should decide to run back to him? Because that’s what you want, and he wants, so that’s what I should want too?” Your knuckles bleach white. “I don’t trust him. I can’t trust a word you or him say.”

“Why? Because he was scared to tell you, but still, he did because you deserved to know?”

Shaking your head, you say, “Does he pity himself? If he was as selfless as you want me to believe, he would’ve left it at that. But he didn’t. You’re here, aren’t you? That’s proof enough.”

“I’m hardly trying to say that he’s selfless. He is selfish. But it’s distorted to pretend that he’d hurt you.”

“What do you know?” you say, scoffing with pure acid. His eyes watch you as you go, but he doesn’t call after you.

Your nails make crescents in your palms, but you dig them in harder so that you feel that, rather than the aching like a poked bruise you thought had healed. His words ring disturbingly true regardless.

❆

Even though it seems that Taehyun is under more stress now than he ever was before, something has changed between you. Something unspoken.

It’s not as if he’s become talkative. But in some quiet moments, you catch him for long enough to have quiet, meaningless conversations with him into the night. And the nights where you get those dreams, he doesn’t mind you taking a spot in his bed to talk yourself out of it. He surely misses out on sleep for it, and as busy as he is, he surely needs it, but he never complains. Just listens to you ramble until you’re too tired to worry that you’ll close your eyes and find something frightening behind them.

He’s awkward. Terribly awkward about it. Sometimes he doesn’t know what to say, so he just stares at you. You imagine that he’s piecing together his speech in his head. It’s endearing in a way that has your heart clenching in your chest. He understands so much of the world so deeply, the darkest corners of it, but letting someone close? Speaking just to speak? It’s as though he’s trying to teach himself when he’s around you.

Orange flickers over the planes of his face. He watches you, his arms crossed over his chest, like he usually does.

“Taehyun?” you say, hair unkempt and your eyes sleepy. He doesn’t seem to care. “Can I ask you something?”

He hums.

Ever since he whispered it into your ear, that unintelligible word, you’ve been viciously curious. Chills erupt over your skin at the memory. Him behind you, the pads of his fingers on your skin, the heat of his breath. And, whatever it had meant, it crackled like magic in the air. Something different. 

“That one day, you said a word that I couldn’t understand. What did it mean?”

Tongue darting out to wet his lips, he shifts. “My real name.”

You freeze, mouth dropping open as though to scoff and laugh it off. But his face is bare of humor. That can’t be right. Having a faerie’s real name is as good as them handing their life over to you. They don’t just hand them over like that. Most will spend their entire life holding it viciously to their chest, and for good reason. Anything you said or commanded, he would have to do. The way Beomgyu’s face had morphed when Taehyun commanded him to do anything—something like that. Anyone with a faeries name could tell them to crawl in the dirt and then take a dagger to cut their tongues out, and they would. They would. 

And, Taehyun, of all of them? It doesn’t seem logical for him to give that to you. For a man so adept at surviving, it’s out of order. “What?” you say, voice peaking. “Why?”

As if it were the most obvious thing in the world, he says flatly, “Because I trust you with it.”

Your chest tightens. What a heavy, unbelievable thing to hold: somebody’s life in your hands, and to know that without a doubt that you will nurture it. His life, with which he did not care for so long about. You understand the gravity of that.

“I could hurt you with it,” you say. You can’t breathe, the air sucked from the room. “Aren’t you worried about that?”

“Then do it.” His jaw flickers. “Hurt me with it.”

How can he just say that? “No—why would I? I won’t ever. I won’t ever even use it. I promise you.”

“It’s yours.” He shrugs. “Use it how you want.”

The words slither up your spine, tickling the back of your skull. Oh. “I don’t even remember how to say it.” Could you? The vivid memory plays out, and it’s as incoherent to you as it had been then.

In a low, breathy voice, he repeats it. The hair on your arms stands up.

It takes you a few tries before you finally manage to get something close to it to come from your mouth. The dimple in his cheek peeks out with each attempt. But when you do get it, his eyes darken.

“There,” he says, nodding once. “Say it again.”

You do. The air crackles and comes alive.

“Do you feel it?”

“Yeah,” you say. “It feels like when I ate Lachrymose.” Tastes like it, too.

He frowns. “When did you?”

The knee-jerk reaction is to lie and say that it was something that happened when you were little. But you’re trying to tell less of those. “There was this time that he took me to a market. I had to have some to even see it.”

Taehyun’s jaw ticks, shadows flickering, but he doesn’t comment on it. “I had a feeling you were off doing dumb stuff.” It’s terse, but not mean. You might even call it an attempt at humor.

Snorting, you cross your arms. “You can’t pretend I’m the mysterious one.”

“Mysterious?” he says, arching his brows.

“Yes, mysterious. What do I know about you? I guess I know that you were a spy, but that doesn’t count.”

“That’s because there isn’t much to know.” His voice goes distant like it always does when he’s thinking.

Even if he had lived a phantom life, everybody has a history. “That’s not true. I’ve never been more curious about anybody’s past than I am yours.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Sorry? For what?”

“That I don’t have anything to tell you.”

A life like that must’ve been awful. Your heart aches for him. Going from one place to another, unsure why you are or what you want or what your purpose is. “Was it lonely?” you ask.

Hair brushes his eyes as he moves. They look softer under this light—not soft, but softer. “It was all I knew. It couldn’t have been lonely.”

But, he felt the lack. Whether he calls it loneliness or not, he knew he was carved out by something. Isn’t that loneliness?

“Did you like being a spy?” Did it hurt you to leave it behind, you want to add. 

“No more than for the fact it was something I was good at. I’m good with swords and metal, and not much else. It was a start.”

You nod, smiling gently, “I’m not good for much else than sewing.”

The air sits still between you, a calming presence that wraps you up in its arms. At ease, safe, like you usually feel with him.

You talk until your throat’s sore. Youdon’t even realize dawn has come until he pushes himself up off the bed and the soft blue light peeks in as he leaves.

Laying under your blankets to fight the morning chill, you say his true name one more time. Just to taste it.

❆

The drooping pearl of the necklace Yeonjun gave you swings delicately side to side. No matter what, you couldn’t leave it. You hold it out, watching it. Just watching it.

Kai had gotten up under your skin. His words peeled the dressing you had so carefully laid down for yourself. He’d done it so easily that you’re almost angry.

It doesn’t feel good to paint Yeonjun out to be all terrible, because he isn’t and never was. The truth of the situation is that he didn’t expect to end up loving you, or maybe he didn’t expect for his job to involve hurting a human life in any way. In any case, he never meant to break your trust.

But he did. Aren’t you a hypocrite, then? You weren’t telling him everything, either. Even if he already knew what you were, that was a decision you made. Because you were afraid. He was afraid he’d lose you, too. At least he told you regardless. That’s what gets you; he did tell you. Is what you’re doing punishment for that? Is it mean? And yet, if you go to him again, what of the fact that he thinks he can make you come back by pulling strings? That leaves a nasty taste on your tongue. 

You don’t know. Dropping your head, you sigh. For a long time, everything has been bubbling up in your chest. Now, it rises into your throat and restricts your breathing. You don’t know, you don’t know. 

The thudding of booted footsteps has you popping your head back up to find Taehyun in the doorway. His mouth moves in a half-smile to say something until he zeroes in on what you hold in your fist. Eyes going sharp, his face twists.

“Oh,” you say. “You’re back.”

His feet remain planted. He’s so still that it doesn’t even seem like he’s breathing. It sends a genuine chill over you, hair prickling. That look; you recognize what it is, now. You’ve seen it once or twice. So intense that it eats up the oxygen in the room and leaves none left for you.

“What’s that?” he says, crossing the room to snatch it from your hand. He watches it spin and glimmer in the lowlight. Last time he had seen it, he couldn’t help but snap it off your neck. His throat bobs around a hard swallow.

“A necklace.”

“Always him,” Taehyun growls, eyes smoldering. “No matter what I do. What will it take for you to stop fucking wanting him?”

You’d breathe, but it all gets caught in the back of your throat. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You don’t?” he scoffs, taking your face in his hands. So gentle in contrast with the razors he sneers with. “Bullshit.”

You do. Of course you know what he means. You try to muster up words, but his thumb down the line of your jaw stops them short.

“Look me in the eyes,” he says. Mush-brained, like you always seem to be around him, you do. His jaw ticks and he breathes out a weakened, “Fuck.”

The mattress meeting your back doesn’t even register through the thick, fire-smoke haze of his mouth on yours. You gasp into his mouth, fingers curling into the front of his tunic. That same one you had embroidered. Him, walking around in your touch all day. It makes your belly turn over. 

He licks the seam of your mouth, his hands in your hair and then running up your torso and then squeezing the plush fat of your hips, as if he can’t decide where he wants to feel you, so he devours it all at once. As if he could make up for all the times he wanted so badly to do this, but could not. 

You gasp for breath when your mouths part, kiss so impatient and frantic that it dazes you and leaves your lips smeared. “Taehyun,” you shudder out. He always leaves you stupid and with nothing to say but that. 

He takes your chemise where it lands on your thighs and brings it up. Each inch is scalding and exhilarating at once. When it’s bunched up above your breasts, those intense eyes eat the sight up. All sharp edges and want, but you see how his ears go red.

“I haven’t wanted anything this bad in my whole fucking life,” he says, palm splayed over your ribcage. “I have gone so long like this. Never had anything to want. But I want all of you. That, I need.”

You shake like a leaf in his hands with it; want. “Take it,” you say. It’s good that it’s nothing more than two words, because you don’t trust your voice right now.

 But, really, is it? You think they’re much more than just words. Your head spins so much that the world blurs into lines around you—everything but him and the beating of your heart. 

Instead of devouring you like you thought he would, he thumbs the hinge of your jaw. Yeonjun, as sure of himself as he is, would’ve. But everything about Taehyun is contrary to what you’ve known. Yeonjun was a slow, tantalizing burn because he knew exactly what he wanted to do with you. Taehyun’s all over you like he cannot get enough, a dazzling white-hot fire. And he cannot get enough.

“Are you sure?” he says, the words tumbling out past his lips with trembling urgency. “Because I’m… Don’t play with me. Please, don’t fucking play with me. You want this?”

You’re just as bad as he is. Worse, even. It’s like he takes whatever is inside of you and makes it tenfold. Your skull pounds to the same terrible rhythm as your center. It goes through you in waves. “Taehyun, please, just do something. I do. I do.” 

His fingers are biting as he tugs you down to the edge of the bed, his hair hanging in his eyes. Dark, swirling pools. You drown in them. They’re even better in between your thighs, down on his knees. 

“Tell me where he touched you,” he says, breaths puffing over your inner thighs. 

So he can replace it all with himself. Your blood boils under your skin.

“Did he do this?” he asks. It doesn’t come out vindictive. No—he’s really asking. He wants to know exactly what you like, to make himself exactly that. Why does that set you on fire the way it does?

“Yes.” You run your palm down the length of your belly, slowly, just to feel it and the tingles. His eyes track it the whole way, darting back up to yours when you take his hair in your hands. “Yes, he did. And he was so good at it, Taehyun.” It’s purposefully antagonistic, but your belly tightens as his face falls to shadows.

The first swipe of his tongue is a test. He watches you jump with analytical precision and then applies that like he does everything else—watching. Observing. Another, trying a flick, and his intelligent eyes note how your thighs shake. Then his fingers go tight under your thighs, the cold of him like frostbite, and he dives in. No long drags, no fanfare.

You squeak, but it devolves into a litany of feral sounds. No, Taehyun is not Yeonjun. He reminds you of that in the way he pins you, his arms stronger, in the different way his mouth moves on your cunt. Not at all. It’s like you’re learning how your body reacts anew. 

He does not let you clamp your thighs around his head, does not let you buck your hips, and does not let you breathe.

“Oh—” you start, but your vision tunnels as he takes your clit into his lips. A graze of teeth here, his tall, strong nose against it there. Wholly overwhelming you so that he knows, beyond a doubt, that there’s nothing in this world that you could be thinking about but this. Him. Because he so desperately needs it that way. 

“Taehyun,” you plead with him. Your fingers tug at his scalp, and you’re positive that his jaw must ache, but there’s nothing but an endless hunger that meets your gaze when you find it in you to pry your eyes open and look. “Taehyun, please,” you say, voice cracking toward the end as your belly tightens.

His nose. It sends your body rigid each time he digs in deeper and bumps it up against you. It pushes you closer, closer, and then closer, until you burn all over, nails digging into his muscle-corded forearms to have something to hold as it licks down your spine. The last words you can manage are intelligible—your tongue betrays you.

Taehyun presses a rough hand right below your navel and holds you down through it. He’s the only thing that’s real beyond your hoarse cries and shaking body. Him. 

He doesn’t stop flicking your clit with his tongue until you’re jumpy and choking on your breaths, belly going taut.

The vision of him as he pulls back has stars speckling your vision. His mouth is covered in you, his pupils blown wide. On him, on his perfect, clean-cut face, it’s the lewdest thing you’ve ever seen. Though you’re still floating in a smoky haze, sedated, it sends glowing sparks through you.

His breaths fan over your face as he climbs back up, maneuvering you however he pleases. With his forehead pressed to yours, he half growls, half shudders, “Damn it.”

The words are scalding. You know exactly what he means, because you’re feeling it too. Something as powerful as the sea swallowing you clean, sucking you down to where you know you won’t ever reach the surface again.

You take a hand and run it up the plane of his stomach, feeling and savoring each scar, until you feel his heart. It thuds under his skin frantically. It echoes through your bones, so loud that you might hear it if you strained your ear enough. It tugs at the strings of your heart.

“You’re nervous?” you say, eyeing the mess of his hair, the flush on his cheeks. All so endearingly human. Sweet, even.

“No,” he says. His voice is vibrantly husky and thick. “I’m not scared. I’m just…” His eyes sweep over the sight of you, the spread of your soft thighs and the splay of your hair and the same glazing of the eyes in yours as there is in his no doubt, longingly. There’s a flicker of unsureness, and then he presses his forehead to your shoulder and rolls his hips into you. He lets that speak, the hardness of him. “Good?”

Running a finger over the curve of his ear, you feel the scar tissue left there. “Good,” you say, still partly lost for breath. More than that; you want him all over you. You want him like liquid silver in your bloodstream, heavy but utterly potent.

He fumbles with his pants for a moment, the sword calloused pads of his free hand brushing over your pulse. It stutters under his thumb as he holds it there—checking if you’re feeling it how he is.

“I have been tortured,” he says, wetting his lips and scoffing as if he can’t believe what he’s about to say. “I have been tortured, driven up the fucking walls, by the sound you make when you cum. Since you let him have it in my home, since you let me hear it.” His eyes flash, and then he’s bent you straight in half.

With your thighs flush to your front, your mind goes blank white all but for the very human, very fundamental kick that comes with being so utterly held down. All his brawn is suddenly more apparent now than ever. You press at his hard chest, nothing but his breaths to breathe. “Tyun,” you say, calves on his shoulders.

“Good?” he repeats, his jaw working. The tip of him presses to your entrance.

Taking your lip into your teeth, you cut through the haze and nod for him. “Yes,” you say. “I’m good.”

That’s everything he needed to hear. The thick tip of him presses in first, and then you’re hanging on to each new inch, taking to his shape and size slowly but surely. A sound catches in his chest as his body meets yours, a gravelly curse following.

For a moment, he hangs on and lets you wiggle your hips in circles to learn the feeling. He’s different from Yeonjun like this, too. And then he takes your waist into his hands and begins to fuck you, because hardly could the both of you wait a moment longer. You need, need, need. 

He drops his head and works his hips into you so eagerly that it’d be impossible for him not to brush up against that sweet, saccharine spot inside you. You press a palm over your mouth. Not to quiet yourself—when the world has gone to nothing else but him on top of you, you don’t care. But because you haven’t got a clue what else to do with your hands. You’re clawing, both grabbing him closer and pushing at him. 

“Taehyun,” you whimper. “There—right there.”

Angling his hips, he searches your face. “Yeah? You…” His voice chokes off before he can gather himself again. “Like it there?”

Cupping the back of his head, you pepper kisses and nip wherever you can reach. It’s all your overwhelmed mind can do to thank him.

That deep, trembling feeling starts at the base of your spine. It’s inescapable between him and the bed beneath you, your toes curling in the air and your back going rigid. Everywhere you go, he’s there. Every square inch of you. 

Taehyun’s no better off. “Fuck,” he whimpers. It’s like nothing you’ve ever heard come from his mouth. His head drops into your neck, a procession of something between whiny breaths and growls spilling into your skin.

“I’m…” you say, insides burning up far too much for you to finish that thought. You teeter on the edge just enough to drive you mad, mad enough that falling off feels both like punishment and prize.

He knows, though. “Me too,” he says, voice so tight you think it might snap. Hips faltering, he takes the hair at the back of your skull and tugs your head back just to press a smoldering kiss to your mouth. You know why he’s done it—the sound of his coming undone is muffled into your mouth as he eases up just enough to let your twitching legs down, slipping out. He takes himself into his fist, the slick sounds so obscene they break through your delirium. Belly going taught, the little bit of soft, healthy fat there, he throws his head back and spills over your stomach with a bone-deep sound. 

Both made lazy, you don’t have it in you to move for some long moments. You just listen to the sound of his ragged breaths coming and going off pattern with yours. It’s all you need to hear. All you need to know.

Dazed, you watch him stand to find something to clean you up with. The air is empty, but not bad. Not stifling. He dabs at your belly with a gentle hand, tossing it away. You half expect him to slip out or go lay in his own bed, but he doesn’t. You always did seem to get him wrong, anyway. 

You draw shapes into his skin, talking nonsense with a raspy voice until you’re droopy-eyed and don’t even realize you’re drifting.

❆

Poking through the fabric, you tug the string taut. Another one of Taehyun’s shirts dangles down from your hold.

Something’s happening. You’re not exactly sure what. But he’s hardly here, so something must be. You gnaw at your bitten lip. It doesn’t seem so much like there’s any buzz or mistrust around here anymore, so then what? 

You know that you came here for real war, but the notion of it finally becoming actualized makes your stomach go nauseous. Not to mention the fact that you don’t even know where they’ve gone. That leaves a door of possibilities cracked that you don’t even want to peek into. 

Taehyun can handle it. You know he can. Despite it, you hang on to every moment that he’s not here. What’s that? You decide not to name it, for your sake. 

You thread and you thread, circling the cuffs and then around the neck, letting your mind wander. But not too far. 

A rustle at the tent opening catches your attention, and then Kai’s stepping inside. Your belly doubles over itself. Never once has he come to you. “Is everything okay?” you say, throat tight like you already know. Because you do.

Wasting no time, Kai says, “The prince has been apprehended. But I’d tell you that he’s been given away.”

Silence washes over you as you pause. “What?” you say. Your voice is distant as it comes out. That was not what you were expecting, but it’s not any better. Taehyun’s shirt goes forgotten. 

“For leverage,” he elaborates, “the King has been told about his son's rebellion. He’s been betrayed by one of our own.” There’s a deep sadness in his eyes. Old friends, he had said. “Our general is a cruel, sharp man.”

“What do you mean by that?” you say. The walls spin around you. That’s not right. That’s not right.

Kai doesn’t answer you, but his long, telling look speaks truer than words. Producing a letter, he offers it to you. Yeonjun’s insignia is stamped into wax on the face of it. “I suggest that you read this one.”

Your hand trembles as you take it from him. Yeah. You’d better read it. The cruelty of burning letters hits you like a real blow to the chest. The King has his traitorous son, probably sitting somewhere you haven’t got a clue of, plotting on having his head. So many words—oh, you feel sick just thinking of them going up in smoke now. Yeonjun will die. 

The letter tears with a sickening sound. You don’t have the steadiness in you to open it delicately like you did once.

𝐾𝑎𝑖 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒. 𝐴 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑖𝑡, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑛.  

𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑢𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑡𝑦, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑓𝑎𝑢𝑙𝑡. 𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑓 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑥𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠, 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑑𝑜 𝑖𝑡. 𝐼’𝑙𝑙 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦. 

𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑢𝑛𝑐ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑢𝑝 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑦, 𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑙𝑙 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑛𝑒 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡. 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡 𝑚𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 

𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑜. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡. 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑒. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑓 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙, 𝐼 𝑎𝑠𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑐, 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡. 𝐼’𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡. 𝑀𝑎𝑦 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑢𝑛𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑢𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑒.

  𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑗𝑢𝑛

It’s all so sickly sweet, so dramatically him. Hot tears burn down your cheeks, jaw trembling as you make attempts to keep it all in place. Even just to see his handwriting…

You want to close your eyes and pretend that Taehyun would not, but your gut doesn’t allow it. You know the truth. You know that it was Taehyun who deducted it was Yeonjun sabotaging you. You know that it’s Taehyun that so perfectly, so seamlessly hid behind an ice wall for months that you hadn’t a clue how deeply and voraciously he needed to have you. It was him, with his sharp mind—that part of him that is capable of shutting down emotion and acting on brutal, detached strategy. 

A strategist through and through. It was Taehyun who will have Yeonjun’s head.

🪶 ⦂ this is the happiest day of my life (＞＜) i missed them so much. i know how this development is probably making yall feel... so yes i will be needing to hear everything.

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[itendtothinkalot]

strawberry ice cream

summary: taehyun’s never liked strawberry ice cream, but for five years, he’s pretended to, just to make you happy. one day, he finally confesses his feelings! trying to keep your cool, you’re struggling to handle the situation, but taehyun? he’s acting different, a little too confident for your own good. now, with his teasing, you’re not sure whether to be flustered or admit that maybe… you feel the same way.

genre: fluff!!! just all around fluff!

characters: best friend!taehyun x f!reader <333

words: 6.7k

warnings: none!!! i hope

Taehyun has dated before—many times, actually. He was smart, confident, and undeniably good-looking. Girls naturally gravitated toward him, drawn to his quiet charisma. And for the most part, he welcomed it. Dating was simple, effortless.

Until it wasn’t.

Because no matter how pretty, how kind, how perfect they seemed, something always felt… off. The spark that everyone talked about—the feeling that made people stay—it never lasted. He tried convincing himself it was normal, that love wasn’t supposed to feel like fireworks all the time. But deep down, he knew.

Love wasn’t supposed to feel like settling.

And maybe, just maybe, it was because of you.

The thought lingered at the back of his mind, unspoken but persistent, like a song stuck on repeat. You, his best friend. The one constant in his life. The one person he never had to impress. The one girl he never had to chase—because you were always there, smiling at him like he was just Taehyun, not someone to be won over.

And maybe that’s why it scared him so much.

Because if he admitted it—if he really let himself feel it—he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to go back to pretending.

—

“Here.” You handed him a cone of strawberry ice cream, your fingers brushing against his for a fleeting second.

Taehyun looked up at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Thanks.”

The contrast between you two had always been apparent. Where you were all bright energy, he was quiet steadiness. You were the type to run headfirst into situations, heart first, no hesitation—while he was the one standing behind, arms crossed, sighing before inevitably following to make sure you didn’t do anything too reckless.

Even now, as you excitedly licked your ice cream, eyes crinkling in delight at the taste, he couldn’t help but think—you’re so easy to love.

He took a slow bite of his own. Strawberry ice cream. Not his favorite. Not even close.

But it was yours. And for some stupid, unexplainable reason, that made it taste better.

“Are you even enjoying that?” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him. “You always make this face when you eat strawberry ice cream, like you’re forcing yourself.”

Taehyun raised a brow, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned. “Sure. Whatever you say.” Then, without warning, you leaned in and took a playful bite out of his ice cream, giggling as you pulled back.

Taehyun stilled.

You didn’t even notice.

“See?” you hummed, licking the remnants from your lips. “Mine’s better.”

He swallowed. Hard.

It wasn’t the ice cream. It wasn’t the teasing. It was the way you did things so effortlessly, so casually—like stealing a bite of his ice cream was just normal between you two. Like it didn’t mean anything.

For you, it didn’t.

For him?

His grip on the cone tightened slightly.

You had no idea, did you? No idea how badly he wanted to close the space between you and wipe the ice cream off your lips with his thumb. No idea how every time you leaned in close, his brain short-circuited trying to act normal.

No idea that he’d spent years convincing himself he was just your best friend.

And he’d keep pretending.

Because that’s all he was allowed to be.

For now.

—

Taehyun barely reacted when you slammed the door behind you, though his grip on his phone tightened slightly. He already knew tonight wasn’t going to end well—the second Soobin had smugly announced that he was setting you up on a blind date, Taehyun had felt a distinct irritation settle in his chest. Not that he could say anything about it. Not that he had any right to.

Still, he couldn’t help but scowl internally at his friend’s meddling. 

His expression remained unreadable as you stomped into the apartment, throwing your shoes off with more force than necessary. You muttered an impressive string of curse words under your breath, arms crossed so tightly over your chest that he thought you might combust.

Then, with a dramatic sigh, you spotted him on the couch. Taehyun barely had time to process before you fell onto his lap, burying your face into his sweater as you threw your arms around him in a bone-crushing hug.

"Men are stupid," you declared, voice muffled against his chest.

Taehyun let out a breathless chuckle, adjusting to the sudden weight of you sprawled across him. "I mean, I won’t argue with you there," he said, keeping his tone light even though he was struggling to ignore just how close you were.

Your body was warm against his, your scent—something sweet, something unmistakably you—filling his senses. It wasn’t fair. How easily you curled into him like this. How naturally you sought comfort in him, never once realizing that he was part of the very problem you were complaining about.

"I take it that the date didn’t go well?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

You groaned dramatically, tightening your hold around him. "Disaster would be an understatement. First of all, he was late. Like—half an hour late! And then when he finally showed up, he spent the first ten minutes talking about his gym routine."

Taehyun hummed, resting his arm along the back of the couch as he definitely didn’t let his fingers linger in your hair. "Maybe he was nervous."

"Well, then he shouldn’t have tried mansplaining my own job to me."

Taehyun winced. "Yeah. That’s… rough."

Taehyun bit back a smile. God, you were adorable when you were ranting.

"Maybe Soobin should retire from matchmaking," he mused.

"Maybe Soobin should mind his own business," you muttered. Then, with a sigh, you dropped your head back against his shoulder, settling into him like he was the only place in the world that made sense. "It’s so unfair. Why is dating so hard?"

Taehyun stared at the ceiling. It doesn’t have to be.

But he didn’t say that.

Instead, he swallowed down the words, kept his arm loosely draped around you, and pretended like his heart wasn’t beating out of his chest.

Pretended like he wasn’t wishing, just this once, that you’d see him.

—

The two of you were having a conversation.

Well, mostly you were talking. Taehyun was listening, nodding every now and then, letting you ramble as he sipped his coffee.

“I just don’t get it,” you sighed, stirring your drink absentmindedly. “I mean, I want to be in a relationship. I really do. But it’s like—ugh, I don’t know, the moment I actually try, it never works out. Maybe I’m cursed. Or maybe my standards are just too high.”

Taehyun raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

“Like, am I asking for too much? I just want someone who gets me, you know? Someone who actually listens when I talk, someone who doesn’t just nod and smile but really hears me. Someone who’s honest but not in a mean way, who calls me out when I’m being dumb but still sticks around anyway.”

Taehyun hummed. “That’s… oddly specific.”

“Right?” you huffed. “It’s so hard to find.”

Before Taehyun could even think of a response, a shadow fell over the table.

“Hey, I’m Yeonjun,” a smooth voice cut in.

Both of you glanced up at the guy standing next to your table—tall, sharp-featured, and clearly confident in his approach.

“I was with my friends and I just had to come over and tell you that I find you really cute,” he said, flashing you an easy grin.

You blinked at him, lips parting slightly in surprise before you shrugged. “Oh. Thanks.”

And just like that, you turned back to Taehyun, picking up right where you left off. “Anyway, like I was saying—”

Taehyun’s brow furrowed. He stared at you, then at Yeonjun—who was still standing there, slightly thrown off—before the guy awkwardly excused himself and walked away.

Taehyun narrowed his eyes at you. “That guy was flirting with you.”

You glanced over your shoulder, barely sparing Yeonjun another look. “Yeah. And?”

Taehyun frowned. “You keep saying you want to be in a relationship, but when cute guys approach you, you never seem to care.”

You turned to him, meeting his gaze dead-on. “That’s because none of them seem to know me. Not the way you do.”

Taehyun stilled.

You leaned in slightly, voice quieter but firm. “None of them treat me the way you do. What I want is… something we have.”

For the first time in a long time, Taehyun didn’t know what to say. His grip tightened around his coffee cup, his pulse suddenly too loud in his ears.

Because if you meant what he thought you meant—

Oh.

Oh.

Taehyun’s voice was quieter now, more cautious. “That’s because we’re best friends. Of course I know you. That’s... that’s how it is.”

There it was—the wall he built, the familiar, comforting excuse. He was doing what he always did—masking—keeping things light, brushing away the vulnerability that had sparked in him just a moment ago.

But he could’ve sworn he saw a flicker in your eyes.

Your expression changed for the briefest moment. A small tightening of your lips, a flash of something unreadable, almost like you were disappointed. But then, as quickly as it came, it was gone.

You nodded, a little too enthusiastically. “Of course, we’re best friends. That’s what we are.”

It almost felt rehearsed, the way you smiled so brightly, almost like you were trying to convince yourself of it. But Taehyun couldn’t be sure. Was it just him, or was there a shift in the air between you two now? Something that hadn’t been there before.

"Yeah," he replied softly, but the words felt heavier now, lingering in the space between you. “Yeah. Best friends.”

But in his chest, the tightness wouldn't loosen. It wasn’t supposed to feel this complicated, was it? Best friends didn’t look at each other this way, didn’t feel their heartbeats quicken when the other spoke.

He wiped his palms on his jeans, looking anywhere but at you.

You, on the other hand, were too calm. Too nonchalant. Like this wasn’t the most loaded conversation you’d ever had with him.

You leaned back in your chair, your legs crossed casually, as if you hadn’t just dropped a bomb on his chest. “I mean,” you started, your voice sweet, like the conversation had just shifted into another territory entirely. “I am lucky to have someone who gets me like you do.”

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Taehyun didn’t want to just be someone who got you.

He wanted to be the one who had you.

His thoughts were moving faster than his words. God, what was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t take it back, couldn’t unfeel what he was feeling. And by the way you were looking at him right now—so utterly unaware of the weight of your words—he knew it wasn’t something you were going to suddenly realize.

He sighed, trying to laugh it off. “Well, that’s what best friends are for, right?” He almost hated how forced it sounded. How untrue.

The air between you both felt impossibly thick.

You didn’t say anything right away. Instead, you just smiled again, but it was a different kind of smile this time. One that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” you said, almost too softly.

And just like that, the moment shifted—slipped through Taehyun’s fingers, leaving only a quiet, unbearable ache in his chest.

But he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. Not yet.

—

Taehyun stared at the glow of his phone screen, his mind racing, unable to shake the thought that had been nagging him ever since that conversation. Could it be? No, he must be crazy. There’s no way. You were so out of his league, otherworldly even. And he... was just Taehyun.

But that one flicker of a change in your expression kept replaying in his mind, like an echo he couldn’t silence. The way you’d paused, the hesitation that flashed in your eyes. It felt like something had almost been said, but you’d stopped yourself.

He didn’t know what to do with it. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

In a moment of desperation, his thumb hovered over the keyboard, and before he could talk himself out of it, he typed: “how to know if a girl likes you?”

He hit search and scrolled through a few websites, the information flooding in with no filter.

“Sign 1: She initiates skin contact.”

Taehyun scoffed under his breath, thinking of all the little moments. Like when you’d casually rest your hand on his arm while laughing, or when you’d bump his shoulder whenever you wanted his attention. Sometimes it was the lightest touch, like when you’d accidentally brush his fingers when handing him something, but it always felt deliberate.

He groaned, covering his face with his hand. No way. It couldn't mean what he thought it meant, could it? 

He scrolled further.

“Sign 2: She confides in you about everything.”

Taehyun's mind immediately went to the way you’d always come to him with the most trivial, random things. From a bad day at work to maybe how you felt during a meeting. You told him everything, like you trusted him more than anyone else, like you couldn’t imagine telling anyone else first.

You always confided in him with a smile, always sought his opinion, even on things as silly as what kind of ice cream to get, or what outfit to wear on a date.

His heart skipped.

Sign 3: She constantly teases you.

Taehyun felt a soft blush creep up his neck. He couldn’t help but think of the countless moments you’d teased him. The way you loved to poke fun at his serious demeanor or the silly nicknames you’d give him just to make him laugh. You always seemed to have this way of keeping him on edge, teasing him just enough to make his heart race.

Even that one time when you’d cornered him with a playful grin, saying, “You know, for someone so smart, you’re so clueless about people.”

He could hear your voice in his head, that playful tone, that mischievous glint in your eye.

Taehyun blinked, pulling his phone back from his face and staring at the screen in disbelief. 

All these signs—these signs—they were all things you’d done. He’d never even thought about it before, too focused on the fact that you were his best friend, his person.

But now? Now it felt like something had shifted in his mind, the gears grinding and clicking into place.

A sudden panic flooded his chest. What if you did like him? What if you always had?

His thumb hovered over his phone screen again, as though he might text you right this second and ask. But then the overwhelming thought hit him: What if he was wrong? What if he misread everything? What if this ruins everything?

He tossed his phone on the bed beside him and buried his face in his pillow, groaning into it. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to know if he was about to lose the only thing that mattered most to him.

But one thing was clear now: He couldn’t just ignore this feeling anymore. 

And that made him, well, confident.

—

Taehyun felt the strange urge building up inside him—something he couldn’t shake off, no matter how many times he tried to distract himself. He wanted to know, needed to know. He hesitated at your bedroom door, then, taking a deep breath, he knocked.

You groggily opened the door, stretching as you yawned. "Taehyun?" you asked, your voice still laced with sleep. He couldn’t help but notice the way your hair was messily falling over your face, the way your eyes still held traces of sleep. To him, you always looked beautiful, no matter the time of day.

"I have a question for you," Taehyun said, his voice calm. "Do you like me?"

You blinked, still half-asleep, trying to process what he just said. "What?" you muttered, rubbing your eyes.

He stepped closer, his eyes focused on you with an intensity you couldn’t quite understand. “Do you like me?” he repeated, his voice unwavering. This time, his eyes were serious, and the playful tone that usually accompanied his words was gone. Your pulse quickened, and you instinctively took a step back, but Taehyun followed, his presence too close for comfort. You stumbled slightly, your knees hitting the bed as you ended up sitting on it.

“Do you like me?” Taehyun asked again, his voice low and steady, as though he was studying your every movement, every tiny flicker of emotion that passed across your face. He leaned in just slightly, watching the way your breath hitched, how you nervously avoided his gaze. There was something almost intoxicating about the way you looked flustered in front of him, and it made his heart race.

You gulped, feeling your face grow hot. His gaze was too intense, too penetrating, and suddenly, the room felt a lot smaller.

“Taehyun... what are you talking about?” You forced out the words, trying to sound unaffected, but even to your own ears, your voice wavered. Taehyun tilted his head slightly, watching you closely.

"I'm just asking a question." He smiled faintly, as if this was all normal to him. "That day, when you said you wanted to date someone who knows you… isn't that me?"

Your heart skipped a beat. "It could just mean someone like you," you stammered, trying to play it cool, but you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Hmm." Taehyun raised an eyebrow, his lips curling up slightly. “Could mean that. But it could also mean something else.”

You swallowed hard. "Mean what?" you asked, doing your best to hide the nervousness bubbling up inside you. You were trying so hard to act casual, but everything inside you was screaming otherwise.

"That you like me," he said, his voice almost teasing now, but there was something deeper in his eyes that made your stomach flutter.

You scoffed, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. "Pfft. I always knew you were smart, I didn’t think you’d be funny too." You tried to brush it off, but your heart wasn’t in it. Taehyun’s gaze never left you, and his smile only grew, his eyes sparkling with something you couldn’t quite decipher.

"Okay. Fine." He said, his tone shifting again, this time more serious, almost playful in a way that made you want to melt. "When you do find the perfect guy, be sure to let me know. Because I want to be ready, to prepare myself for the heartbreak of seeing the person I love fall for someone else."

You stood there in complete shock, unable to process what he’d just said. Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You couldn’t say anything. Taehyun chuckled softly, standing up, but not without giving you one last lingering look.

“And also... you didn’t really answer my question,” he added with a teasing smile, turning toward the door.

Taehyun didn’t get a confession out of you but somehow he found something greater. Confidence. 

—

You woke up, uncomfortable. You could still feel the warmth of Taehyun’s words echoing in your mind, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. You didn’t want to face him—not yet, not when things were so weird between you. So you stayed in your room, lying in bed, hoping he’d leave for a while so you could avoid the inevitable awkwardness.

You finally summoned the courage to get out of bed, dragging yourself to the kitchen for breakfast, hoping for a quick escape. You pushed the door open, only to freeze in your tracks when you saw Taehyun leaning casually against the counter, a glass of water in hand. His messy hair and sleepy eyes made it all the harder to ignore the strange rush of emotions in your chest.

You tried to turn around without saying a word, but as you moved toward the door, his voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hey,” Taehyun called, his tone light but laced with an unmistakable playfulness. You didn’t even look at him as you slowly turned back to face him.

“I’m not gonna bite,” he continued, his gaze catching yours for just a moment before you quickly darted your eyes elsewhere. “You can get some breakfast. I can go if you want.”

He let out a quiet laugh, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you, even if he didn’t admit it. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, and it made your cheeks heat up.

There was something different about the way he presented himself, almost as if he was trying to win an argument. Taehyun seemed different—almost too confident, as if he had finally come into his own.

You shifted your weight awkwardly, trying to find the words to fill the silence, but they didn’t come. Instead, you muttered, “It’s fine.”

Taehyun watched you, that knowing glint never leaving his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew it was messing with your head. It didn’t help that his relaxed stance seemed to suggest that he wasn’t bothered by the tension between you at all, while you felt like you were unraveling inside.

With a slight tilt of his head, he added, “Come on, you’re not gonna make me stand here all alone, are you?”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nodded, moving past him to grab something for breakfast. Taehyun didn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he leaned back against the counter again, watching you closely, waiting for you to crack under the pressure.

You could feel his eyes on you, and you tried your best to pretend that everything was fine. 

“Look, if it makes you feel better, I can just pretend I didn’t say anything,” Taehyun said, casually leaning back against the counter. “Besides, I’m the one who said I liked you. Why are you acting like you got rejected?”

He let out a soft laugh, one that made you feel both at ease and completely on edge at the same time. The teasing tone in his voice only made the situation harder to navigate. How was it so easy for him? Why couldn’t you just tell him how you felt?

“I’m gonna go shower and head over to Soobin’s,” Taehyun continued, his voice light, but there was that quiet undercurrent of something else. “You can have the rest of the house to yourself.”

He moved to turn, but before he could, you blurted out, “No!”

The word slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it. You froze, the heat in your face betraying the chaos inside your mind. Why did you even say that?

Taehyun paused, his back still turned to you, but his posture stiffened slightly, as if he’d expected more of a reaction but didn’t expect this one. He turned back to look at you, but your gaze immediately dropped to the floor, not daring to meet his.

For a moment, there was silence between you. Your brain was screaming for you to say something—anything—that could explain the rush of emotions that had flooded you in the span of a few seconds. But every time you opened your mouth, the words seemed to get stuck somewhere deep inside.

Taehyun, sensing your hesitation, raised an eyebrow, the faintest smirk curling at the corners of his lips. “What? You want me to stay?”

You opened your mouth again, but nothing came out. You were completely at a loss for words, your heart pounding in your chest, knowing that anything you said could ruin whatever fragile understanding you two had left.

So, instead, you stayed silent. Your mind raced as your thoughts collided with each other, all those things you wished you could say, but couldn’t seem to get past your lips. Taehyun was waiting for you to speak, but you couldn’t.

He sighed softly, almost as if he was amused by the effect he had on you. “You know,” he said, voice quieter this time, “I’m not gonna make it easy for you.”

With that, he turned around leaving you standing there, heart in your throat, unable to move.

—

As Taehyun drove over to Soobin’s, his mind couldn’t stop replaying the conversation from moments earlier. Five years. Five whole years. It had been that long since his feelings for you had started, slowly growing, deepening until they became something undeniable. But for all that time, he’d kept them buried, locked away behind advice, words of wisdom and a friendship that was too comfortable to risk.

He had watched you date other people, listened to you vent about your blind dates, your crushes, and your frustrations. And all the while, he had stayed by your side, always the supportive friend, the one who would laugh with you, talk to you about anything, and pretend that nothing was wrong when his heart ached with each passing day.

But today? Today was different. Seeing you crack under the pressure of his directness, your vulnerability laid bare—it had done something to him. The power he felt now, as if he held some control over your emotions, was both exhilarating and terrifying.

You were always so strong, so in control of yourself, never letting your guard down. But for the first time, he saw something shift in you. Something that made his heart race with anticipation. And what’s more, it was cute. Really cute. How you tried to act like everything was fine, like you weren’t completely freaking out inside, but he could see it in your eyes, in the way your hands fidgeted, how your voice wavered just slightly when you spoke.

And for the first time, he wasn’t angry with himself for not telling you sooner. He wasn’t frustrated with the years of yearning. In fact, it felt almost... right, in a strange way. Maybe he’d always had to wait, maybe he had to be patient, but he was willing to.

He didn’t care if you didn’t see it yet, or if you were too nervous to admit what he could already see. He knew that one day, you’d come to him. And when that day came, he would be there, ready to make you see him the way he’d always seen you.

For now, though, he was content to wait. To let you work through whatever you were feeling. He didn’t need you to have it all figured out right now.

He’d wait for you. And when you were ready, he’d be right here, as he always had been.

—

It was 12am and Taehyun was still out.

You couldn’t understand it. One moment, you were his annoying best friend who had ran through every bad decision in your head. You were a confident person who could face your feelings for Taehyun, and the next thing you knew…it was as if the ground had been ripped from under you. The fear of losing him, the uncertainty, the possibility of ruining the one thing that had always been so solid in your life.

As you paced around the house, your thoughts spiraled, each one more dramatic than the last. Did you scare him off? What if you ruined everything? What if this changes you two forever? The thought of losing Taehyun, not just as a friend but as someone who meant so much more to you, made your chest ache.

And yet, there you were, throwing your phone across the couch, staring at the screen, wondering what you could say, how you could fix it. You were terrified of the silence between you, terrified of confronting what you knew deep down: that you loved him.

Your mind was racing, and just as you were about to call him, the sound of the door creaking open pulled you from your thoughts. You froze, heart pounding as you looked up. There he was.

“Still awake?” he asked, surprised, his eyes flickering over to you. You didn’t know how to respond, your words stuck in your throat..

You nodded in silence, and then it hit you—the familiar feeling of him looking at you, noticing everything, like you were the most important thing in his world. The way he could see through you, the way he knew exactly what you were feeling, even when you couldn’t find the words to express it.

“Good. I bought us supper,” Taehyun smiled, and for a brief moment, everything felt normal again.

You looked over at the bag of food in his hands, and your heart fluttered. Of course, he got your favorite... How did he always know? You could never hide anything from him. He placed the food on the table, the sound of it all grounding you, bringing you back to the present.

“C’mon. I know you haven’t eaten,” he said, that familiar teasing tone in his voice.

How did he know?

Before you could stop yourself, you instinctively responded, “Yes, I have,” your pride rising to the surface.

Then, of course, your stomach grumbled loudly, betraying you.

Taehyun’s eyes flickered to you, his lips twitching into a smile. “Cute,” he mumbled under his breath, shaking his head in amusement. He prepared the food again.

You froze, your mind spinning. The word "cute" etched in the back of your mind. You had felt the warmth of his gaze before, the way he always seemed to see right through you, but this time, it felt different. It felt like he had just peeled away another layer of you, one that you hadn’t even realized was there.

You tried to steady your breath, but it was no use. The butterflies in your stomach had already taken flight, fluttering wildly.

You cleared your throat, “You know you can’t just throw those words out like that,” you said, but there was no conviction in your voice. It was barely a whisper.

Taehyun didn’t even look up, still focused on making the food. It was like he didn’t even realize the effect he was having on you. How could he not see it? The way his every word made your heart race, the way the mere sound of his voice seemed to leave you in a haze.

"What word?" he asked, acting so nonchalant, so... Taehyun. He was always this way—unbothered, like he wasn’t aware of the way he could turn your world upside down with just one glance.

You wanted to backpedal, to change the subject. But you couldn’t. "You know..." You trailed off, not sure how to say it. You didn’t even know if you could say it without completely falling apart.

Taehyun's eyes flicked up to you briefly. “Oh, you mean ‘cute’?” he said, almost as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “But it’s the truth.”

The truth.

And there it was again. That word. The way he said it, so effortlessly, as though he didn’t understand the whirlwind he was creating inside you. The butterflies, the shivers running down your spine. The realization that he wasn’t just teasing you. He meant it.

This time, it wasn’t hunger. It was a rush of emotions, all tied up in those three little letters—cute. Your heart skipped a beat, then raced to catch up. You couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips, but it wasn’t enough to hide how you felt.

You turned away for a moment, hoping he wouldn’t notice how flustered you were. But the heat on your cheeks gave it away, and you could feel his gaze on you, as if he knew exactly what he had done.

Your mind was a jumble of thoughts, your feelings all tangled up in confusion and longing. Was he teasing you? Or was it something more? Something real? Something you couldn’t name but knew, deep down, you were desperate to understand.

You swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself, but Taehyun had already caught you off guard.

You stood there, your heart hammering in your chest, every breath you took feeling shallow as you tried to keep your composure. But, the more Taehyun’s gaze held yours, the more your resolve began to waver. He had always been the one to make you feel safe, to make everything feel easy, but this... this was different. 

You shook your head, trying to ignore the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “You... you can’t just drop that you’re in love with me and pretend that everything’s okay,” you blurted out.

Taehyun raised his eyebrows, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “Oh, we’re finally gonna talk about it?” he asked, clearly amused by your sudden outburst. “Sure, let’s talk about it.”

You huffed, frustration bubbling inside you. You crossed your arms over your chest, pacing back and forth in front of him, your hands gesturing wildly as you tried to explain everything that had been running through your mind. “You... you can’t just tell me you like me when I wake up from a good nap. I—I can’t think straight! And now, I can’t even look at you without feeling... without feeling stupid!” You stopped in front of him, hands on your hips, face flushed with embarrassment. “It’s so embarrassing, and it’s just... it’s so stupid. I can’t even talk, or form sentences, or—ugh—why are you doing this to me?!”

Before you could rant any further, Taehyun interrupted, his voice low but teasing, his lips curling into a smile. “Stupid?” he asked, the amusement in his eyes clear as he took a small step toward you. “That’s how I feel every time I hang around you.”

You blinked, your frustration melting into confusion. Taehyun continued, unfazed. “The guys always ask me why I’m so quiet around you, why I let you do all the talking. And... well, they don’t know that it’s because I love listening to you. You don’t even know this, but I could listen to you talk all day. I’m just as talkative as you are with my friends, but with you...” He stepped even closer now, his voice softening, “...with you, I can’t think straight. I can’t breathe clearly. I just—I can’t do anything.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Taehyun cut you off, his voice growing more sincere. “You think you have it hard? I’ve been in love with you for five years. I’ve been pretending to be as quiet as I am for five years. And I’ve been pretending to like strawberry ice cream for five years. That’s how long I’ve been in love with you.”

You stood there, speechless. Every word he spoke made your heart twist, and yet, somehow, your mind was still stuck on the number five. Five years.

“F-five years?” You were still trying to process the gravity of it all, but Taehyun wasn’t giving you time to think.

He closed the distance between you. His hands rose slowly, his fingers gently cupping your face, his touch sending electricity coursing through your skin. The moment his palms made contact, your breath hitched, and your heart seemed to stutter in your chest.

“Yes,” Taehyun murmured, his voice barely audible as he leaned in a fraction closer. “Five. Years.” He didn’t move away.

You looked up at him, your mind a chaotic mess of thoughts and feelings. 

You felt it, though. The yearning in his eyes, the sweetness in his words, and the vulnerability that was now spilling from both of you. You had been afraid of this—afraid of the risk, of the fear of losing what you already had. But now, standing here in front of him, you knew.

And for the first time in your life, you didn’t want to run away.

Your voice trembled as you looked into his eyes, your heart racing. “What... what are we supposed to do now?”

Taehyun’s hands remained on your cheeks, his thumb gently caressing your skin as he leaned in just a little closer, his breath mixing with yours. “What do you want to do?” he asked softly, his lips brushing against your forehead as he closed his eyes for a brief moment.

You could feel the warmth of his words deep inside, the hope, the love, the honesty—and suddenly, everything else faded away. There was no need for anything more than this moment. Just him. Just you.

You swallowed, the words you had been holding back now slipping past your lips, “I... I want you to stay.”

Taehyun’s lips curled into a subtle smirk as he leaned in just enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and something deeper that you weren’t sure how to name. His playful tone contrasted the intensity of the moment.

"You asked," he said, his voice low and teasing, making your heart race, "and I’m staying."

You bit your lower lip, still unsure if you were more embarrassed or thrilled by how easily he’d taken control of the situation. The power he exuded made you feel small in the best way, a shift you weren’t used to but secretly relished.

You pouted, crossing your arms and looking away, trying to hold onto some semblance of your usual confident self. "You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?"

Taehyun chuckled, his eyes softening as he stepped closer, his hand brushing your cheek in a surprisingly tender gesture. "Maybe," he teased, leaning in so close you could feel the tension between you. "But I’m enjoying this even more... watching you try to act all tough while you want nothing more than for me to stay."

You stifled a smile, trying to look away, but you couldn’t help the flush creeping up your neck. This whole new side of him, the one that was so sure of himself, was doing things to your insides you couldn’t quite explain.

"Stop looking at me like that," you muttered, but there was a softness in your voice that betrayed your words.

"Like what?" Taehyun asked, his voice dangerously close, and you could feel the teasing grin in his words even if he wasn’t smiling.

"Like you... you know you own me now," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Taehyun’s smirk deepened, his fingers gently lifting your chin so that your eyes locked with his. There was something about the way he was looking at you now, something raw and sincere beneath the teasing, that made your heart flutter wildly.

“You’re the one who wanted me to stay,” he said softly, his voice low and soothing as he leaned in just enough that you could feel the heat of his breath. “You’re the one who asked. And now,” he paused, his hand slipping to your waist, pulling you ever so slightly closer, “now, you’ve got me.”

“You’re too smug,” you muttered, but there was no real heat in your words—only a soft, shy vulnerability that you couldn’t quite hide.

“You like it,” he whispered, his thumb brushing the curve of your jaw. “Admit it.”

You swallowed, your heart racing faster. “I—I don’t know what you're talking about,” you stammered, your voice betraying you.

“Of course you do,” Taehyun said, his lips brushing against your forehead in a soft, almost possessive kiss. “You’re just trying to act tough, but I can tell. I can tell you like this side of me. The one who knows exactly what he wants.” He leaned in just enough for you to feel his breath against your ear, making every part of your skin tingle. “And I think I want you to feel just how much I want you.”

“I—” You couldn’t even form the words to reply, too lost in the moment, too lost in the pull he had on you.

Taehyun’s smile softened, his fingers brushing your cheek once more before he pulled back, just enough to see the effect he had on you. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’m not going anywhere.”

[blue-jisungs]

okay so tae + blanket and I was thinking abt how he slept in an extra hour in the new to do x txt spinoff and then even when he woke up he just sat there for a few mins slowly blinking his eyes open RKJFKSS HES SO CUTE anyway him being clingy in the morning and not wanting to get out of bed :((

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ LAZY DAYS OFF🧸ྀི — sleepy taehyunnie <3 ( wc 585 )

ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ! HIYA ZANNIE ! sorry its so short :( but i hope u like this:(( i also strayed off a lil but but sleepy cozy fluffy tae:((((((((((((((( what if i just cry.

@kstrucknet

the bed is warm and fluffy, like a softest cloud. 

with a quiet groan your fingers look for the edge of the blanket and you pull it over your shoulders, not wanting any warmth to escape. 

this sheer feeling of comfort is enough to lull you back into sleep. 

suddenly, there’s an extra weight on you. not too strong, yet it was enough to crack your eye open.

in an instant you were met with an adorable sight: taehyun’s face squished onto your shoulder, his cheeks puffed slightly. it was his arm that you felt - he threw it across your waist, as if holding a plushie. his dark brown hair was shuffled from all the moving in his sleep, locks long enough to cover his closed eyes. 

despite the cold temperature outside and snow blazing, the warm sunlight peeks through the window, leaving a morning glow on his face. 

you can’t control the way your hand travelled to cup his cheek, causing his lips to pout from the subtle squishing. you just grinned and stared at taehyun’s sleeping face. 

your heart was at ease, seeing him like that. knowing that he’s resting – safely and next to you. it did feel a little strange to have him besides you while waking up, only because you were so used to the hastle and bustle of his busy life. 

you felt his fingers brushing against your side, drawing a giggle from you. 

“what’s so funny…” taehyun mumbled, not caring to open his eyes just yet. 

“you tickled me” you hummed and felt his lips forming into a mischievous smirk under your palm. “don’t even think about it” 

taehyun just fixed his hold and now his fingers wrapped around your side fully, pulling you closer. not knowing from where, his other hand came and landed at the back of your head. now you were fully nuzzled into his chest, your hair tickling his chin. 

“you’re just like a personal teddy bear, you know?” he murmured, voice a bit raspy from slumber. you just scoffed and fixed the blanket, closing your eyes.

“i figured” 

taehyun peeked an eye open and frowned. 

“wait, actually, i don’t like this position…” he sighed and shuffled again, dragging you along. 

“but i was getting cozy…” you whined when for a moment the covers slipped off. the coldness of the room made you shiver dramatically. 

“here we go” he purred with satisfaction, like a cat receiving chin scratches. 

now you were laying on his chest, his hands still glued to you. 

“i can see you a little better. that was what i needed, really” he hummed and brought the blanket over to your neck. 

you sighed softly, turning to his side and wrapping your hand around his torso. throwing your leg on his, you nuzzled even closer. not a single space between your bodies.

“i wish we could stay like this forever” he slurred sleepily and you weren’t sure if he’s not gonna drift away again any second now. 

“who said we have to get up?” you asked quietly. 

taehyun stayed silent, his fingers that were drawing circles on your side slowly stopping. 

“for a moment i forgot i have a day off” he finally answered, a cute giggle leaving his lips. the gesture made his chest shake, leaving you smiling. 

“wake me up when you wake up” you just hummed, fully embracing the coziness of his warmth and layers of blankets. 

“see you in my dreams” taehyun whispered before falling into slumber once again.

m.list <3

taglist. @primoppang ,, @mirxzii ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura

 @nicholasluvbot ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,, @ocean-minho ,, 

@eternalgyu ,, @haecien ,, @nonononranghaee

[blossom-hwa]

melody of the heart [1] | k.th

pairing: Taehyun x fem!reader genre:  fluff, a pinch of angst, regency era!au, nobility!au warnings: period typical misogyny word count: 17.8k notes: — this is for all the bridgerton girlies who have been going insane just like me <3 highly inspired by francesca/john's burgeoning romance from the first half, so hope you all enjoy! — some of the dialogue has been lifted from the show—I do not claim any credit for it. — this takes place in the same universe as my duke!yeonjun story, if you'll have me :) feel free to check that out as well! When your father calls you home from the continent to join the London season, for the first time in your life, you nearly throw a fit. You are not just the daughter of a viscount—you’ve made a name for yourself in England and abroad with your prodigious talent at the piano, having since childhood performed for royal courts far and wide. You have traveled far and beyond most other ladies of your rank, and to have your career halted all for the sake of marriage to a man who will likely force you to quit your craft is unthinkable. But all your life you have lived without raising a hand to your father, and so when the letter comes, you return home for the season, hoping and praying to make it through without stirring the waters.  Enter Taehyun Kang, Earl of Addiston—recently titled, in search of a wife, and as tired of the season already as you are. During a chance meeting at the season’s third ball you grow to know each other, and as time passes you grow to like each other, a mutual respect forming when you learn the depths of one another’s passions in the arts. In Taehyun you find a respite from the men who would clip your wings for the sake of finding a perfect wife. In you Taehyun finds a kindred spirit who would respect him for himself, and not the lands in his name. Together you navigate the grueling social activities of the London matchmaking project as acquaintances, then as friends, and maybe, just maybe— As lovers, too.  Part 1 >> Part 2

Series Masterlist | TXT Masterlist

As the white double doors begin creaking open, only one thought rings clear in the mess of your mind. 

I cannot be the diamond. 

Cannot. Will not. Your father wishes it, as does your governess and the entire unfamiliar extended family crowding your home for the season, but you can’t. Not least because you can’t handle the attention—just the idea of being presented to the queen makes you want the earth to swallow you whole—but also because the longer you can delay finding a husband, the longer you might still find a shred of freedom lingering on your fingertips. 

It's not fair. Late at night you lie in bed, staring at the dark ceiling as angry tears prick the corners of your eyes. Why is it that men should have the freedom to do as they wish, but women must be pushed into the confines of the household, meant to marry up just to add or promote a title for the family name? All you ever wanted to do was play the piano, and even though your father only saw your life’s passion as a way to make money, at least you could do it. You were good at it, too—you’ve played for the royal houses of Europe, met queens and kings and nobles of so many courts, and while you never quite loved being the spectacle of a child prodigy that your family painted you as, at least you were allowed to play. 

But now your father, who rarely contacted you since your mother died five years ago, suddenly breaks his frosty silence to demand that you come home, because the royal checks you’ve been receiving have now begun to dwindle and the only purpose you can now fulfill for your family is to become some rich gentleman’s meek wife. And to make matters worse, you won’t see a penny of the money you made yourself. It’s going to your dowry.

It won’t even be yours. 

What is most upsetting is that he’s not even entirely wrong. Not about the dowry—you’re still smarting over your hard-earned money being turned over to some nameless, faceless gentleman of the ton—but about your musical escapades on the continent. People were eager to watch a child prodigy perform. They cooed and smiled over you like the zoo attraction you were. But as you grew older, you also noticed the invitations dwindling, the interested courts growing smaller, the payments decreasing. All because you were a woman nearing marriageable age, and to be such a prodigy was no longer suitable for your gender. 

For all your usual mild-mannered shyness, this knowledge makes you want to break dishes against the wall. 

But since you’ve returned to England, you’ve kept your mouth shut as you are wont to do. You’re not the type to scream and rage when things don’t go your way. Silence comes more naturally to your lips than shouting and you find yourself nodding quietly to your father’s demands more often than not. Still, though, you can have this. You can have the fact that you will not be the diamond. 

You were worried about it at first. Your name is not unknown by the people of the ton and judging by what little you’ve heard of Lady Whistledown’s papers, your return has stirred some gossip around town. Enough gossip that people speculated the queen might crown you her diamond on the sole basis of your celebrity—and as self-centered as it is, you were anxious about that. But it turned out you actually didn’t have to worry, because as it turned out, you are terrible at being a debutante.

Everything about it hurts. The feathers on your head, the slim, constricting dress, the jewelry choking your neck and wrists and the pale, slippery gloves that slide against your fingers—you certainly don’t wear gloves when you play the piano. The headdress only accentuates your terrible balance and when your governess had you practice your walk for the first time, you’d tripped every other time you went down the hallway.

Which was not ideal, not for you or for your family. Because even though you don’t want to be the queen’s diamond, you also don’t want to be the one girl to trip on her face in front of dozens of people and the queen herself. Only instead of motivating you to be better, the thought of tripping kept making you more and more anxious to the point that you felt like you’d throw up each time you saw your debutante gown.

“Why don’t you treat it like a performance?” your governess had finally suggested, wringing her hands at your latest miserable attempt to walk down the hallway with those godawful feathers on your head. “As though you were to play for the queen.”

The thing is, you have performed for the queen. Not recently, given that you’ve been on the continent for a good many years and only returned a few months ago, but you did perform for her when you were much younger. But that’s—different. Somehow. Your governess and certainly your father might see both situations as the same, but for some reason the idea of parading down an aisle amid dozens of prying eyes, all the while wearing a tuft of white feathers on your head, is terrifying to you in a way that playing the piano for hundreds or more isn’t. 

It doesn’t make sense. Which is why you didn’t bother trying to explain to your governess why exactly her well-meaning advice wouldn’t work, just gave her half a smile and an empty nod as you prepared to try once more. And it had gotten better the more you practiced. Over time you got used to the swaying of the feathers above you, the tiny steps you must take to avoid the headpiece falling to the floor, and all the other millions of tiny things you never thought you’d have to pay attention to. Now, though, as the doors swing fully open, revealing the queen and her entourage at the end of the aisle, framed by every single eye in the room trained on you—

You freeze.

Time stretches and dilates all at once. Opulent ornaments blend with the walls, gold almost seeming to drip onto the white in a way that, to your spiraling mind, looks like blood. The sea of faces before you blurs into a mass and your heart is pounding, your breath coming out in shallow gasps that can’t be doing anything flattering for you in this stupidly tight gown. 

“Y/N.”

Your aunt hisses your name with her unfamiliar voice and suddenly the room comes back into focus. Too much focus. Now everything is too bright and too defined and the gold of the decorations seems to be blinding your eyes. You accidentally lock eyes with the queen at the end of the aisle and all you can feel is the need to throw up. 

But you can’t. 

Slowly, slowly, you take the first step. Then the next. Feathers sway and your head is starting to spin uncomfortably, but you keep your eyes trained on the end of the aisle, something akin to a smile (or at least a grimace) pasted upon your lips. 

You halt after what you think is the right number of steps, just a short distance in front of the queen. The same muscle memory that lets your fingers fly over piano keys helps you into your low curtsy, head dipping just enough to be respectful, not so much that the awful headdress tips over. Wait a moment, your governess’s voice echoes through your muddled mind. Count five seconds, then rise. 

Slowly, you stand, meeting the queen’s appraising eyes once more. Her expression doesn’t change. Relief prickles your chest—maybe she doesn’t recognize you, which means she won’t crown you the diamond for the sole purpose of your fame, or maybe she’s just disappointed and unimpressed—and that relief continues to spread as you stumble out of the room, dimly aware of your aunt following just behind you. 

“Well, you weren’t the diamond,” your aunt sighs. “But at least you didn’t fall. “

Yes, you think fervently as you accept a glass of water from a footman. And thank the heavens on both accounts. 

. . . . .

It’s only the second ball, and Taehyun is already not enjoying the season. 

Ugh. He slips into a darkened corridor and finally allows himself to take a deep breath, the sounds of the party muffled behind the walls. “How did you do this so easily?” he mutters to the phantom of his brother in his mind. 

Taemin’s casual grin smiles back at him from behind his mind’s eye and despite himself, Taehyun almost laughs. He knows the answer already. Taemin enjoys this—the socializing, the talking, all of it. His brother’s easy grace and pleasant manners are easily employed in the ballroom, where he can spread charm at will and revel in the attention he receives in reciprocation. It’s not that Taehyun can’t find his way around a conversation or take an easy turn around the dance floor. He can. It’s just that he doesn’t enjoy it the way Taemin does.

But even then, Taehyun still doesn’t understand how Taemin navigated the marriage mart so seamlessly. Surely he must have at some point grown fed up with the shiny veneer of the debutante season, the incessant pestering of the mamas when they found out the heir to one of London’s earldoms was newly seeking a wife. None of that seemed to bother Taemin that much, though. Two months he went through it with only the barest complaints, and by the third month he was happily married to a woman of a similar temperament. While they might not have been a love match at first, they were certainly an amicable and good one. 

Meanwhile, it’s been barely two weeks since the season started and Taehyun already wants it to be over.

He’s pushed it off enough, though. For three years he’s been allowed the excuse of first finishing his studies, then having to put the estate’s affairs in order—the news of the inheritance was rather abrupt, after all, and completely unexpected. He’s only related to the Addiston line distantly through his mother, not even his father—which is why he was able to inherit even as a second son—and they’d had no idea of the connection until the solicitor had shown up to their door with the news. But it’s been three years. With the weight of an estate on his unexperienced shoulders, the next logical step, to society, would be to find a capable wife to share the burden. His parents agree. So does his brother. 

And so does Taehyun. He just wishes the process of doing so wasn’t so…performative. So obviously meant for matches of rank instead of people. Taehyun knows that if he hadn’t gotten that chance inheritance, hardly anyone would look twice at him. He might be the son of an earl, but he’s only a second son, and the son of a second wife at that. While he’s certainly not at the bottom of the barrel of potential husbands, without his inheritance, he’d be garnering far fewer glances than he does now. 

Far fewer. 

In another better world, maybe it would be easier to find someone with whom he has a genuine connection without having to wade through all the social climbers in this one. Because that’s what he wants. A connection. Not someone who will simply look at his title and inheritance and pursue those instead of him.

But in this world, that might just be an elusive dream.

Taehyun sighs. It’s worse now that he lives alone and has grown used to his solitude. Sure, he has friends who come to barge in on him at different times of day—Kai and Beomgyu maintain little sense of decorum around him, in contrast to the Duke and Duchess of Hastings who, though good friends of his by now, do not come outside of calling hour without prior notice. They keep away the lonely spells in an estate that still doesn’t quite feel like his. But the silence isn’t unwelcome for a quieter person like he, and it remains a sharp contrast to the gaiety of the ton during the season. 

Which brings him back to here. Now. In some empty corridor of his host’s home, away from the staged smiles and bright lights of the ballroom. Somewhere he certainly shouldn’t be, but as long as he doesn’t get caught, Taehyun has little intention of returning to the fray until he can get his thoughts back in order. The muffled chatter of the party is still too loud here so he continues down the hallway, following the echoes of silence and…

Music?

He halts. Sure enough, now that he’s far enough from the noise of the ballroom, he can hear a soft, sweet melody coming from somewhere ahead of him. It’s haunting, lovely, and as he leans toward the sound he begins to recognize the notes of one of Beethoven’s sonatas. Part of the Tempest sonata, actually. One of the most difficult, and one of Taehyun’s personal favorites. 

Taehyun’s feet begin to move, the spell of the sonata carrying him to the end of the hallway. One of the doors has been opened just a crack and it’s easy to tell that’s where the secret pianist must be playing from, the melodies spinning into the air beyond the sliver of an open door.

Common sense tells him he should walk away. The musician seems to be alone—perhaps tired of the party, just like he—but nonetheless, that can’t spell good fortune for him, especially if they are a woman. Being caught alone with an unmarried debutante would only spell trouble for both of them, more her than he, and for her sake, at least, he can’t ruin her prospects just because he couldn’t turn away from her music. 

But something deeper keeps him rooted in place, breaths quiet and shallow, eyes half shut as he leans toward the door as much as he can without tripping over his feet. He enjoys fairy tales, though he is wont to admit it, loves stories of fantasy and magic, and he can’t help but compare these melodies to the spells he used to read about. For surely the pianist must be weaving a spell into the air, into every accent and crescendo, every passage of the sonata effortlessly magical to his ears. 

Taehyun loves music. He loves it almost as much as he loves literature. He took lessons and can play the piano as well as, if not better than many of his peers, but even he is nothing compared to the musician in that room. Nothing compared to the spell of their fingers dancing across the piano keys. 

Too soon, the music ends. And with its conclusion comes the realization that Taehyun needs to return to the party soon, or his absence will be noted—he’s already spent too much time away, if the two movements of the sonata he’s listened to are anything to go by. 

Taehyun forces himself to step away from the open door, from the lovely melodies and mysterious musician within. He doesn’t turn back even when a new piece begins, though soft notes follow him down the hall, all the way back to the party.

. . . . .

“Lady Taylor. Miss L/N.” The smile in front of you is sparkling in a way that leaves you dizzy. Or maybe that’s just the bright lights overhead. Either way, it is doing nothing to soothe the ache beginning to pulse between your temples. “I do not believe we’ve had the pleasure of being introduced.”

No, you haven’t. You don’t recognize this face or its too-bright smile. “I don’t believe we have,” you return, curving your lips as much as you can. “To what do I owe the pleasure…?”

“Mr. Haynesworth,” he says, angular eyes narrowing into what could be a pleasant expression if you weren’t so tired. “I noticed you were quite a fine dancer, and wanted to ask if you had a spot on your dance card that I could perhaps take.”

Without really meaning to, you glance at your aunt. She looks back, mostly impassive, but gives you a small nod. Yes, allow him. 

Your tongue tastes bitter even as you smile at Mr. Haynesworth. “Yes, I do. In fact, my next dance is free, should you like to dance the quadrille.” 

“An excellent choice,” he replies, and you have to try hard not to roll your eyes as he begins to sign his name on the card. What wouldn’t you give to be at home, in bed, purposely thinking about everything and anything but the season and your daughterly duty to find a husband? Lady Arina Park isn’t here to subtly nudge you in the direction of a music room and as far as you know, none of the Tillings play an instrument, so you can’t even snatch a quarter of an hour alone with your thoughts and music like you did at the last ball. Besides, your aunt would certainly scold you if she noticed you were gone, just like last time. 

It's not like it matters, though, because the orchestra music is fading, which means the next dance is about to begin, and you won’t be getting a chance to take a break. Mr. Haynesworth looks up from your card with a little smile and offers a hand. “Just in time,” he says genially. You do your best to feign enthusiasm as you take it. 

I hate this, you can’t help thinking, watching other couples take to the floor. You like to dance—honestly, you enjoy almost anything that has to do with music—but right here, right now, with all the eyes trying to discern who will win Her Majesty’s seasonal title of diamond of the first water (because of all the girls presented this season she still hasn’t picked one, and you harbor a nasty hope that she never will), it’s too much. The bright lights of the ballroom. The slippery silk of your gloves against your hands. Mr. Haynesworth’s pleasant smile as he asks you questions against the background of the orchestra’s new tune, each of them polite, noncommittal, and as meaningless as the last. 

“How are you finding the party tonight?”

I think the candles are trying to burn right through my eyes into my brain. “Quite lovely indeed.”

“How are you finding London in general? It must be a change from abroad, no?”

Boring. Stifling. Rainy. “It is very different, Mr. Haynesworth, though not unpleasant. I imagine that with time, I will grow used to it too.”

“So you do intend to find a husband this season, if you say you will be here for some time?”

If my father didn’t want me husband hunting, I wouldn’t be here. “Yes, that would be my intention.”

“I hope you will come to enjoy London then, Miss L/N. It is an old city, and it certainly has its charms.”

Of course. “Of course.”

He spins you under his arm and you come to face to face, his nice smile suddenly very close to your eyes. You almost stumble—muscle memory had been leading this dance as you tried to answer his questions through your growing headache, and in the midst of that you’d forgotten this part. “I read Whistledown,” he says, completely oblivious to the brief spike in your heart rate. 

Inwardly, you sigh. Ah, so you’re either going to ask me about piano, or ask me about the fact that the queen still has not chosen her diamond of the season.

“She says you are quite the pianist, Miss L/N.”

…You would have preferred questions about piano over the nonexistent diamond, it’s true, but what exactly are you supposed to say to that? “I have been playing since I was young.”

“A true prodigy, then. I wonder why the queen has not yet chosen a diamond, though there is clearly one right here.” Despite the compliment, his thin eyes suddenly seem too narrow, the planes of his face too sharp as he leans in ever so slightly. “I hear you spent quite some time with other royal courts during your…little tour. How were your travels?”

You nearly pause. Your head still hurts and between the dancing and conversation, your mind is being split onto two different tracks, so it takes you a moment to realize why Mr. Haynesworth’s words offended you.

Little tour.

You do not like how he said the words little tour.

It sounds like how your father talks about your performances abroad. It sounds like when your aunt tells you to stop practicing, it’s time for your French lesson. It sounds like when your cousin sticks her head into the music room and asks you to play more softly since it’s distracting from the conversation downstairs. 

Dismissal. Accidental or intentional, it doesn’t matter. It’s dismissal of you, your talent, your work, your passion.

Maybe you would have preferred questions about the nonexistent diamond instead.

“I enjoyed traveling and meeting new people during my tour, though it would have meant little without the music,” you reply, unable to rein in some of the bite to your words. “Music is my passion, Mr. Haynesworth, and the piano my medium. I’m afraid without either, my life would retain little meaning.” And for the first time that evening, it seems that the higher powers are on your side, because the tune of the quadrille is fading, which means the dance is ending. Keeping your current smile plastered firmly to your face, you sweep into a brief curtsy. “I must see to my aunt, Mr. Haynesworth, and so I take my leave. It was good to meet you.”

Lies, all lies, but it gets you off the dance floor without another word from him. Weaving blindly through the crowd, you follow the paths of fewest people until the chatter of the ballroom is just a faint buzz in your ears and blissful silence fills the air instead. 

A rush of air leaves your lips all at once and you put a hand to your chest, where your heart is beating just a little too uncomfortably fast. You’re outside the house, in the gardens, but in almost full view of the front of the home where carriages are lined up, their footmen at the ready. It would be lovely to just be alone, but in public that cannot be for fear of compromise, so you take solace in what little solitude you have now under the moon and stars.

You close your eyes for a long moment. You hadn’t realized earlier how hot the ballroom felt, but you certainly know it now as cool night air breezes across your face turned up to the sky. The stars twinkle overhead, comforting pinpricks of light so unlike the burning intensity of the candles and chandeliers within, and all at once you’re hit with the overwhelming thought that you absolutely do not want to go back inside. 

“I’m not going to survive this season,” you mutter, then quickly glance around—no one should have heard that, it sounds so whiney and childish. But in the moment it feels so true. And for two terrible seconds, you feel an overwhelming lump in your throat, a tightening in your chest—

No. You will not cry. Not here, not now. You bite back the tears, suddenly feeling so alone even in the solitude you sought. No one is on your side. Not your father, your own flesh and blood. Not the aunt who accompanied you here. Not even your governess, who is sweet and kind but ultimately bows to the whims of your father. Only your mother ever understood your calling to music and she’s dead, five years buried underground, and for all you have healed since that dark time, you still miss her. 

You miss her so, so much. 

One deep, shaky breath. Then another. Slowly, your heart rate calms into something that feels more normal, and you tilt your head back up to the sky, letting the midnight blue wash across your vision like a soft blanket. It comforts you enough that you almost don’t hear the footsteps against the stone path until they’re just a few feet away from you.

“Good evening,” a quiet, unfamiliar voice says. 

Conversation. Exactly what you wanted to avoid in the ballroom. Somehow, though, it doesn’t seem so daunting out here. Maybe it’s the silence. Maybe it’s the sky. Maybe it’s the gentle quality of this man’s quiet voice that makes it seem like he seeks the same solace from the night that you do, and nothing more.

“Good evening,” you reply, not quite looking at him as you dip a small curtsy. “Forgive me. I was only—”

“In need of some quiet?” He turns around and between the dark hair and half smile and large eyes, your breath lodges in your throat. But any nervousness at this man’s handsome face fades away when you see the softness hidden in his expression, the gentle uncertainty caught between his broad shoulders. “I have been in search of it all night.”

For all your previous mood, this man’s small smile makes you want to smile too. And so you let your lips curve slightly, more than you thought you could without forcing it, and as you do they begin to curve more. “It seems we are of the same spirit,” you say, and the night seems to laugh quietly with you both. “Miss Y/N L/N, good sir.”

“Taehyun Kang, Earl of Addiston.” He bows slightly. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

. . . . .

A comfortable silence has fallen, and Taehyun has little desire to disturb it, but your name keeps rolling around his head, a little too familiar for someone he’s only met today. There’s something about your face, too. He’s certain the two of you have never been introduced—he’s fairly sure he would have remembered your smile, which seems to complement the night sky perfectly—but at the same time…

Someone opens the door to the mansion and a few orchestral notes follow them outside. Orchestra. Music. 

Oh. 

“Might I ask…” he begins slowly. He almost wishes he could take back his words when you turn to him, but he’s already started, so he continues. “You are Miss Y/N L/N, the celebrated pianist?”

You lips part, like you didn’t expect the question. Embarrassment starts to crawl up his cheeks—it would be mortifying if you said no, even more so if you had no idea who he was talking about—but then you nod, surprise still coating your features. “Yes, my lord. I am.”

Oh. Oh. This is—maybe worse than if you’d said no. Because this means Taehyun is in the presence of someone famous, someone with celebrity, someone he admires and respects even though they’ve never met face to face before—

Calm down. “I saw one of your performances a few years ago,” he says, forcing his voice to remain level. You open your mouth to say something but Taehyun barrels on because if he doesn’t say it now he’ll never say it again. “I was in Germany to visit a friend. We went together. I, um—” and this is when he stutters, because of course it is—“I found your performance most impressive. Particularly Beethoven’s Appassionata. Your interpretation…it was perfect to me. There was a delicacy to it that made it uniquely beautiful.” He coughs and prays the night hides the warmth that has crept into his cheeks. “I suppose I just wanted to say that you are a very talented musician, and you must have worked very hard to come so far.” 

You look away, and in that moment Taehyun does fear that he said too much. He might have presumed a level of familiarity you weren’t comfortable with, or maybe you don’t appreciate being complimented in public, or maybe he just said the wrong thing—but then you look back at him, and even with only the moon and stars to light your face, it’s plain to see the smile curving across your lips, pleased and proud and limited only by the shyness and humility of your nature, evident as you give him a small curtsy again. “Thank you very much, my lord,” you say, and if your smile was complemented by the night before, now it sparkles at brightly as any of the stars. “It means…so much to me that you would say such a thing. Truly.”

Taehyun smiles. A little more shyly than he’d like, but no matter. “It is not a difficult thing to say these things,” he replies. “Your performance then was impeccable, as I’m sure it is now.” And now that the connection has been made, a memory from the second ball of the season suddenly returns, of a dark corridor and a beautiful sonata. Were you—? “If I may ask, were you the one playing the piano at the Kims’ ball just a week ago?” 

You blink. “You…heard that?”

All of a sudden Taehyun realizes the implications of his words—that he was at the ball, that he decided to leave to wander the dark corridors, that he heard you playing and not only didn’t hasten away at once but stayed to listen for long enough to make this connection. None of them paint him in the best light, and one of them is far worse than the others, if taken the wrong way. “I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, and if his face wasn’t warm before, it certainly is now. “I happened upon it by accident. I was only trying to find some quiet away from the ball—” 

“Much as you were just now,” you interrupt, and Taehyun almost flushes even more before he sees the small, amused smile on your lips. 

“Yes,” he agrees sheepishly. “I heard music coming from one of the rooms and it was…beautiful. The Tempest is one of my favorite of Beethoven’s works. You played it wonderfully, and I couldn’t help but stay and listen for some time.” He bows his head. “I hope I have not been too forward or made you uncomfortable. If I have, I do apologize.”

“Do not apologize,” you say, a bashful hint returning to your own voice that Taehyun finds very endearing, especially when you duck your head slightly. “Please, my lord. I am only…deeply honored that you hold me in such high regard.”

Taehyun relaxes, his own smile growing wider. “Earning that regard was not difficult,” he says. “Even my friend, who has much less knowledge of music than I do, was fairly blown away, and almost inspired to take piano lessons because of you.”

You laugh. “You must jest, my lord.” 

“I do not,” he replies, laughing as well. “He is not here tonight, but perhaps someday you two will meet, and his praise will be even more effusive than mine.” 

“In that case, I eagerly await that day.” You look at him, a question in your eyes. “Might I ask, my lord—you mentioned that you have some knowledge of music? Are you a musician yourself?”

“Oh, I…dabble.” Taehyun laughs a little. “With the piano. I quite enjoy it, but I am nowhere near as good as you.”

“But you have a musician’s ear and heart,” you say, conviction in your tone, and Taehyun finds himself rooted under the strength of your gaze, under the stars, under the night sky. “You appreciate the art and the work that goes into it, which is more than I can say for most.”

Taehyun opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “I suppose you are right.”

You duck your head a bit, shoulders suddenly hunching. “I apologize, if I was too forward—”

“Not at all!” he says quickly. “No, not at all. Forgive me, it has simply been a long night and my conversing skills are somewhat frayed at the moment. I appreciate your words, Miss L/N. Very much.”

For a moment, you seem to search his face, like you’re looking for something. Whatever it is, you seem to find it, and when you do, your shoulders thankfully relax. “I was only speaking what I felt to be the truth, my lord. And, for what it is worth…” You pause, your expression somewhat strange before it settles into a genuine smile. “This conversation is one of only a few that I have truly enjoyed tonight.”

He laughs, your quip unexpected but welcome. “It must have been a long night for you too, then?”

“You have no idea.” This time, you two laugh together. “Actually, I’m sure you do. There are only so many times you can be asked the same questions and give the same answers, or hear the same topics and remain sane.” You shake your head. “If the queen plans to choose a diamond this season, I wish she would just hurry up and do so. It seems to be all anyone can talk about nowadays.”

Taehyun raises an eyebrow. “She has not yet chosen one?”

“Apparently not.” You shrug. “My cousins say Lady Whistledown writes about it in every issue. I suppose it is a source of gossip, but…to be quite frank, I do not understand why the queen’s opinion on one woman reigns so supreme in the marriage mart. Should not the couple choose each other based on their own perceived merits, and not solely because the queen approves of one but not the other?” A short pause, and then your shoulders slump. “Though perhaps I only do not understand because I have been away for so long.”

“Well, I quite agree with you,” Taehyun says frankly. “I do agree that the queen’s approval would be a feather in anyone’s cap, but anyone who only sees the title of diamond and nothing else, I believe, would not make a happy marriage, even if the diamond agreed to the match. I don’t believe a title alone is any sort of solid foundation upon which to make a partnership.” 

You look up, meeting his eyes, and a moment of understanding seems to pass between the two of you. A smile that looks much like relief curves your lips. “I agree, my lord,” you say softly. “It is a relief to know that I am not the only one of these opinions.”

Taehyun came outside for fresh air, for a respite from the chaotic buzz of the party inside. He came outside for solitude. But though he found conversation instead, he finds himself feeling better than he perhaps would have, had he immediately gained the silence he sought. Your quiet, frank honesty is as refreshing to Taehyun as the night air itself and he realizes he would love to continue your conversation, if not for—

“Y/N!”

Both of you start at the sudden shout of your name from the mansion doors. An older woman comes striding out, a stranger to Taehyun but evidently more familiar to you. Not altogether welcome, though, it seems—your shoulders tense and immediately your gaze shutters somewhat as the woman draws closer. “Lady Taylor,” you say quietly, turning back to Taehyun with a smile significantly more strained than before. “My aunt, and my chaperone tonight.”

He nods once. “I see.”

“Y/N, I’ve been looking for you for half the night,” Lady Taylor scolds as soon as she is near enough, which does little to endear her to Taehyun after she interrupted his time with you. “Why do you insist on disappearing so?”

“My apologies, Aunt Taylor,” you say. Taehyun doesn’t miss the brief clench of your fingers at your sides. “I went to find some fresh air, and then found myself caught up in conversation with Lord Kang.” You gesture to him. “Lord Kang, please meet my aunt, Lady Taylor, Viscountess of Wentworth.”

Taehyun bows politely as your aunt curtsies. “A pleasure, my lady. I am Lord Kang, Earl of Addiston.”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly at the mention of his title, and he bites back a sigh. So she knows of his estate and inheritance, too. “Charmed, my lord,” is all she says, though, before turning back to you. “Please forgive my interruption. Y/N, you must come back inside. The ball is not yet over, and several gentlemen are still waiting to dance with you.”

You glance down at your dance card, then back up at him, your face twisted in apology. “I must do as my aunt says,” you say quietly. “Though it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord.”

“And the same to you.” He smiles as easily as he can, and maybe he’s just hoping, but your smile seems to become a little less forced too. “It is getting late and I’m sure your dance card must be full, so I will not keep you further. However…” He inclines his head slightly, respectfully. “Perhaps if we meet again, I hope you will indulge me if I ask you to save a dance for me, so that we might continue our conversation where it left off?”

This time, he’s sure he’s not imagining the softening of your face and the return of some sparkle to your eyes. “I would be honored to, my lord,” you say, curtsying. “Have a good night.”

He bows. “I wish the same to you.”

. . . . .

The last few days since the Tillings’ ball have been dreary and wet, full of gray clouds and rain. Today, though, when you wake, the clouds have cleared to reveal the bright sun set against a shimmering blue sky. When your cousins come bursting into the music room to take you on a walk, you don’t even argue—the afternoon looks beautiful, and even you are itching to go outside. 

“You spend so much time cooped up in that little room,” your oldest cousin scolds when you meet everyone in the entryway, though there’s a smile on her face so you try not to take her words the wrong way. “You need some fresh air.”

You smile back as best as you can. “I appreciate the concern, Lilly, but worry not. I’m as eager to see the sun as you are.”

It is pleasant, feeling the sun on your skin after days of grey skies and intermittent rainfall pattering on your windows as you tried to practice. Truth be told, by yesterday you were feeling restless, too, so you can’t even blame the children of your family for wanting to run around as they do now, leaping happily under the blue sky. 

You stick to the back of the group, quietly watching Lilly and your other cousins try to corral their children under the watchful eye of Aunt Taylor. Jieun looks particularly frazzled as she tries to chase down her youngest and you take pity on her, scooping up the child the next time she runs past and giving her little forehead a small tap that makes her giggle. “Be careful,” you warn gently, handing her to a grateful Jieun. “Don’t get hurt, or your mother will worry, yes?”

It's not just your family. It seems as though the entirety of London has come out to enjoy the wonderful weather. The park is green and bright and almost seems to shimmer under the sun, and laughter and chatter fill the air with faint birdsong. You may enjoy spending your time cooped up in that little room, as your cousin says, but you are glad you came out today for the sun on your skin and the joy in the air.

“You are good with the children,” Lilly says beside your ear. You start—you hadn’t realized she was so close until she spoke. “Won’t it be wonderful when you have children of your own, and they can all play together?”

Please, Lilly. “Maybe.” 

“Sound more excited, will you?” she laughs. “You can’t mean to not have children. Or are you already married to your music?”

Your smile is wavering, but you heave it back up with the teeth-gritting reminder that she doesn’t mean it badly, she doesn’t mean it badly, she doesn’t mean it badly. “I’m not married to my music, insofar as I cannot marry an intangible thing,” you respond as dryly as you can. “I’m not sure even the priests at Gretna Green would agree to perform such a ceremony.”

“You know what I mean,” Lilly says, scooping up one of her children. Both of them seem to eye you in a way that makes you feel defensive. “When will you emerge from your music room, Y/N, to see the rest of the world around you?”

That’s not fair, you want to say. I have emerged from my music room. I just find that I don’t necessarily enjoy what—or who—awaits me outside.

Like the incessant demand that you marry and produce children for an unnamed man who will control you for the rest of your life. 

“I see the world as much as I like to,” is all you say instead, but Lilly has already been distracted by her toddler trying to wiggle out of her arms. You leave her to it, and drift behind everyone once more. 

It’s not that you don’t want to have children. It’s not even that you don’t want to get married. It’s just that you resent the fact that it is your only option. You don’t even think you’d mind marriage and children if you could still live with your music, but the way everyone else talks about it, it’s always one or the other. Give up marriage for the piano. Give up the piano for marriage.

Not that the first option is even a choice. 

You take a deep breath. Breathe in the fresh air, the scent of flowers and grass. The sky doesn’t seem as blue as before, nor does the sunshine feel as welcoming, but it’s still there, and it’s still pleasant enough. Lilly means well, and she doesn’t mean to be dismissive. You’re still unmarried and still not the diamond. The world isn’t ending.

Jieun’s youngest finds her way behind your skirts once more, giggling when you turn around to chase her down. A smile finds its way to your face that isn’t forced because she really is adorable, and her little laughs soften your expression when you swing her up and warn her again not to hurt herself.

“Miss L/N?”

You whirl around. As does the rest of your family. 

“…Lord Kang?”

There he is standing just a few feet away, looking as surprised to see you as you are to see him. “Miss L/N,” he says again, a smile spreading across his face. “I didn’t expect to see you, though I suppose you and your family are here to enjoy the weather as well?”

“Yes, we are.” You smile back, trying not to cringe when the toddler still in your arms tries to grab at your hair. Thankfully, Jieun appears to relieve you of her child in that moment, whispering hurried apologies into your ear as she whisks past. “My family thought it would be good for the children to see the sun.”

“And for you!” Lilly whirls into the conversation with a beatific smile and the outward countenance of nothing but an angel. You grit your teeth as she continues. “My cousin spends far too much time indoors at that piano of hers, she hardly sees the sunlight.”

Lord have mercy. 

“Well, I have heard she is quite accomplished at it,” Lord Kang replies easily, that smile never wavering on his face. “Something has clearly come of all those hours she has dedicated to practicing.” He turns to you with that lovely smile and those dark eyes, and while he was handsome under the night sky, it can’t compare to what he looks like now, under the sun. “It seems good fortune has brought us together before the next ball of the season, Miss L/N. Would you mind if I joined your walk, so that we might continue our conversation from the other night?”

Well. You blink once or twice, casting a glance at your aunt, who seems about as confused as you are. In the absence of her input, you choose to assent. “Of course, my lord. We would be honored.”

And so the walk continues, though Lilly and Jieun continue to shoot you confused and excited glances every so often. You ignore them as you best you can, which isn’t hard when Lord Kang is beside you. 

“It’s good to see you, my lord,” you say. “How have you been since the Tillings’ ball?”

“Well enough, though the rain has been somewhat dragging on my mood over the past few days.” He shrugs. “Such is London, though.”

“It is a bit dreadful to think of, if this is what it’s always like,” you say, only half joking. “More time for me to practice, I suppose, though I must admit I am very happy to see the sun.”

“And to be with your family?”

“…Of course,” you respond quickly, though you’re sure he can see exactly how you feel about the group you’re walking with, judging by his half smile. 

“I understand,” he says quietly. “It is not always easy when one’s kin doesn’t quite appreciate the depths of one’s interests.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “You have experience with it too, my lord?”

“With music, somewhat,” he admits. “But more so reading. My family is well-read, of course, but many of them cannot fathom that I would usually rather be in my library than socializing with the ton.”

“I would agree with your sentiment.” The two of you laugh. “What do you like to read?”

It takes a little prodding, but your question eventually launches Lord Kang into a spiel about classics, about authors old and new, novels and philosophy and literature of times so far in the past that you almost can’t fathom it. Truth be told, you don’t know much about what he speaks of—you enjoy reading, but your books of choice tend to be the popular novels of today, and while you recognize some of the classic titles he mentions you can’t say you particularly enjoyed them. But listening to him talk about them, hearing the passion behind his every word, is captivating in a way that you’d never have thought possible when speaking of Plato and Aristotle. And in the midst of this, he never makes you feel out of place or stupid. He answers each of your questions with enthusiastic verve no matter how basic they are, and by the time his friends are calling for him from the end of the park, you’re both so wrapped in your conversation that you almost don’t hear them. 

“I’m afraid I must go,” Lord Kang apologizes when you finally point out the two men making their way towards you. “I promised I would meet them later.” He suddenly looks a little shy, which is a more endearing expression than you’d have expected on his handsome face. “I hope I did not bore you with my talk. I know this subject is not the most interesting to everyone and I can get…carried away with it.”

“Not at all,” you respond immediately. “Truly, not at all. I love hearing about the interests that others have, and clearly this is a deep one of yours. I enjoyed our conversation immensely.” You draw a short breath. “In truth, it was…very good to speak with someone other than my family today.” Your smile, though not forced, feels considerably smaller than it was before. “I do not have many friends in the ton, as I was abroad for so long. Thank you for taking pity on a poor soul such as I, and speaking to me as one.”

Lord Kang steps forward and takes your hand gently, so gently. When he looks into your eyes it is as though he sees all of your soul and your breath catches at the warmth of his palm against yours. “It was never pity,” he says sincerely. “You are a wonderful person with whom to speak, and if I may presume, the beginnings of a very good friend. I look forward to the next time I may see you.” 

You fight to keep your voice steady against the rush of heat in your cheeks. “And I you, my lord. Have a wonderful evening.”

The setting sun perfectly frames his lovely smile. “Until next time, then.” 

The pressure of his lips against your skin lingers long after he has disappeared, long after you have returned home, and long after you have retired for the night.

. . . . .

Beomgyu pounces the moment they’re all seated at the club. “So who was that?”

Taehyun really should have expected this. Even with that knowledge, though, he still has to roll his eyes. “Who are you talking about?” he can’t resist asking. Beomgyu is annoying. He has to be annoying back, sometimes. 

“The girl you were with. The debutante.” Beomgyu grins, undeterred. “Who is she?”

Taehyun gives up. He’ll never win against Beomgyu. “Miss Y/N L/N,” he says, conceding defeat. “We met at the Tillings’ ball a few days ago.”

Kai’s eyes widen. “The pianist?” 

“That’s the one.” Taehyun grins. “I told her you were almost inspired to take lessons because of her.” Kai groans, and Taehyun’s smile only widens. “She was flattered.”

“And I bet she laughed,” Beomgyu adds. 

“She did.”

Kai just screams into his hands. 

“I don’t believe that you didn’t make a fool out of yourself either,” Beomgyu accuses amidst Kai’s muffled screaming. “You admired her at least as much as he did, probably more for your love of music. How much of an idiot did you look when you realized it was her?”

Taehyun is an honest man, but only to a point. “Not much at all.”

Beomgyu snorts, but that’s when their drinks arrive, so Taehyun thanks the higher powers for intervening before he was forced into revealing the truth of warm cheeks and night air. “And how goes you and your lady friend?” Taehyun asks before Beomgyu can pick up his line of questioning again. “Last I remember, she was threatening to slit your throat with your own letter opener. Have there been any recent developments?”

It’s Kai’s turn to laugh while Beomgyu scowls. “Oh, are there,” Kai snickers. “It’s only the most interesting thing in Whistledown right now, second only to the continued absence of a diamond in the field of this season’s debutantes.”

Taehyun raises an eyebrow. “It’s made it into Whistledown?”

“An entire paragraph on the row they had at the last party in the country, right before the season started.” Kai grins. “I know you aren’t a fan of the gossip papers, Taehyun, but you have to read this one. I’ll send you a copy tomorrow. I can only wonder why Whistledown decided to wait until this issue to write about it, though perhaps such a sensational story needed several weeks to perfect.” 

Beomgyu scowls even harder as Taehyun laughs. “I don’t know why that woman Whistledown can’t mind her own business,” he complains. “It was a private argument.”

“A private argument in the gardens outside the host’s home, loud enough that we heard it from inside,” Taehyun says dryly.

“Yes, well, she’s irritating,” Beomgyu snaps, taking a gulp of his drink like he needs it to clear his memory. “Why do you keep asking me about her? I don’t want to talk about it, she’s infuriating.”

“You sure talk about her a lot for someone who says he doesn’t want to talk about her,” Taehyun smirks. “Also, you’re the one who tried to embarrass me first.”

Beomgyu growls. “It’s just ridiculous that she’s still angry over something from when we were children!”

“I don’t know, Beomgyu.” Taehyun shakes his head, hiding a smile. “I was there, and that was a lot of cake. And it washer birthday.”

“Yes, well, she threw dirt at me after that!”

“It sounds to me like you’re still pretty hung up over something from when you were children, too.” Kai sips at his drink, eyes glittering amusedly over the glass. 

Beomgyu just glares at both of them. 

“Alright, we’ll stop.” Taehyun snickers. “At least until I read the copy that Kai’s going to give me.”

“Read all you want.” Beomgyu rolls your eyes. “It’s one paragraph. And from the look you were giving the L/N girl earlier, that’s not even going to be the most interesting part of the paper to you.”

Taehyun blinks. “What?”

“She’s been in the papers,” Kai says. “She’s famous, remember? Whistledown gave her a whole half paragraph when she returned to town and her father announced her debut.”

Taehyun resists the urge to hit himself over the head. If he’d been in the habit of reading the gossip papers, maybe he wouldn’t have been so damn blindsided when he spoke to you at the Tillings’ ball the first time. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“I always make sense,” Kai sniffs, pointedly ignoring both Taehyun and Beomgyu’s snorts. “But how is she, as a person and as a debutante? I’m quite curious as to the persona behind the world-famous pianist.”

Taehyun opens his mouth, then closes it. Takes a sip of his drink. How exactly should he describe you to people you haven’t even met? You’ve only spoken twice—does he even have the right to say anything? “She’s very sweet,” he eventually says. “A bit shy, I think. It’s interesting—she doesn’t seem to enjoy being in the spotlight, though she clearly enjoys piano and performance. But she’s very humble, and I think she’s a very bright young lady.”

“Not without her own sort of wit and charm, then?” 

Beomgyu’s looking at Taehyun in a way he isn’t quite sure what to make of, but he answers anyway. “Very much so. You would probably enjoy a conversation with her.” He smirks at Beomgyu over his glass. “She’d probably like you, against her better judgment.”

Beomgyu cackles. “Of course she would, I’m a joy to be around.”

“You’re certainly something to be around, though I’m not sure I’d use the word ‘joy,’” Kai intones, taking a sip of his drink. “Is she adjusting to London well? She was abroad for a good many years.”

A snippet of your conversation from earlier comes to Taehyun’s mind. Your admission that after spending so much time away from London, you don’t have many people with whom to have a simple conversation with, just as simple friends. “She seems to be fine,” Taehyun replies slowly. “Though she mentioned it was a bit difficult to make friends after so long abroad.” He can’t imagine how hard the season must be for you, with a family who doesn’t respect your passion and no one to really confide in. For all he teases Kai and Beomgyu, he can’t imagine navigating life without them.

“The Duchess of Hastings was in a similar situation before she married Yeonjun,” Beomgyu says, and he’s giving Taehyun that strange, discerning look that he couldn’t decipher before. “Why don’t you introduce the two? Her Grace also quite enjoys music, I think they would get along quite well.”

“Invite her to the Hastings’ gathering next week,” Kai adds. “Of course ask the duchess first, but I’m sure she’d be happy to extend the invite.”

That’s actually brilliant, and Taehyun is privately put out that he didn’t think of the idea first. The more he thinks of it, the more he’s certain that you and his cousin could be good friends. “Yes, I’ll do that,” he says, half-rising out of his chair. “I’ll write to the duchess as soon as I can.”

“Surely not now?” Kai raises an eyebrow at Taehyun’s half-standing position. “You still have the whole night, there’s no reason to leave your drink unfinished.”

Taehyun flushes and sits back down. Kai’s comment makes complete sense—why was he standing up so urgently, anyway? “Of course,” he says, taking a sip to hide his embarrassment even though it’s definitely not fooling anyone. “By the way, Kai, how are your family affairs going? Surely your uncle still isn’t trying to lay claim to any part of your inheritance.”

It’s an obvious ploy to distract from his own embarrassment but Kai thankfully takes the bait, immediately putting forth an impassioned spiel about his arguments with his uncle’s idiotic solicitor that would put any of Shakespeare’s soliloquies to shame. It’s easy enough to laugh along and commiserate with Kai’s troubles that Taehyun allows his mind to wander a little, to the thought of you and the duchess meeting, to the beautiful music that is sure to follow, to the smile that will hopefully adorn your lips when you meet another woman who appreciates music as much as you. 

“You’re smiling an awful lot, Taehyun,” Beomgyu says, bringing Taehyun’s attention back to the present. He’s smirking a little and so is Kai, but Taehyun for the life of him cannot understand why. “Did you find Kai’s story really that funny?”

“No, I’m sorry.” He sips his drink, gesturing for Kai to continue. “I just got a little lost in thought.”

Kai keeps talking, and Taehyun goes back to listening. In the back of his mind, though, he’s hearing soft melodies in the darkened corridor of a mansion, and seeing the night sky twinkling above. 

. . . . .

Maybe someday receiving callers will no longer make you feel like flying to pieces. 

Today, however, is not that day. 

Four gentlemen callers—one of them Mr. Haynesworth, with whom you almost couldn’t hide your displeasure at seeing. The other three were pleasant enough and mostly inoffensive, but by the time the fourth caller came, you were running out of ways to begin small talk and based on your aunt’s subtle glare in your direction, it had probably started to show. 

It’s somewhat amusing, if not also somewhat depressing, how bad you are at speaking with strangers. You’ve performed for royal courts and houses of nobility for years, but when it comes to carrying a conversation, you can only bumble your way through inane small talk for so long before you run out of the headspace for it. Though privately, you think that’s a little unfair—it seems only right that it would be the caller’s job to ensure the conversation kept going, since they were the one who made the call, so you shouldn’t have to put in all the effort. But based on every glare or sniff or cough your aunt sent in your direction whenever the conversation faltered, that apparently is not the case.

It’s over, though. At least you think it is—it’s nearly five and no one has showed up since the last caller left. And if it isover, that means you have no one to entertain for the rest of the day. Your governess has already promised to bring your dinner to your room, and you plan on locking yourself in your music room for the rest of the night after that.

It’s like a reward.

“The biscuits are almost gone,” Aunt Taylor says, standing up from the settee. “I will have a servant bring more.” She fixes you with a stern stare. “Don’t slouch. It is not quite five, and you may still receive another caller yet.” She then sweeps out of the room, and once she’s gone, you slump into the cushions a little more, ignoring your governess’s fretful eyes. 

As if anyone would come calling now, really. Ten minutes to five, which means hardly enough time to begin a conversation once the initial pleasantries were dished out even if someone arrived right at this second. You sink a little further into the couch. Aunt Taylor won’t be back for another couple of minutes at least. You can take at least that long to be comfortable. 

Sooner than you’d like, footsteps sound in the hall outside. You quickly pull yourself up, smoothing out your dress, and await the renewed presence of your aunt. 

Only it isn’t your aunt. You blink when a footman enters instead, a card held in his hand. “A caller, my lady,” he says, squinting at the card. “Lord Kang, Earl of Addiston.”

What?

Of course, it is then that your aunt decides to sweep back into the room. “Another caller?” she asks sharply as a trailing servant places a refilled plate of biscuits on the table. “Who?”

Thankfully, your governess has recovered from the surprise more quickly than you have. “A Lord Kang, my lady,” she says. “Earl of Addiston.”

Your aunt throws you a sharp glance. Inwardly, you wilt a little—she’ll be sure to interrogate you after this, asking you to recount every last detail of your and the earl’s conversation yesterday in the park even though you already told her everything you could remember last night during dinner—but for now she says nothing as she nods to the footman. “Bring him in, please.”

For some reason, when you stand, your heart begins to race. You force yourself to take slow, deep breaths. It may be Lord Kang, but he called with only five minutes—now less—left on the clock. Surely he can’t have much to say. 

Though, a little voice in the back of your mind says, you’d much rather talk to him than any of the four who came earlier today.

Footsteps sound lightly in the hall, thankfully keeping you from pursuing that train of thought down unsavory paths. But then Lord Kang appears in the doorway, looking as handsome and gentle and polite as he has every time you’ve spoken to him, and it’s all you can do to keep your voice steady as you welcome him to your home. 

“Lord Kang.” You curtsy, your smile widening in a way that comes more easily now than it has all day. “Welcome. I hope you have been well since we last spoke.”

“I have been, and it is a pleasure to see you all again,” he replies, bowing politely. His eyes meet yours and, in the sunlight streaming softly through the window, they almost seem to sparkle. “I apologize for calling so late in the hour, but I had some business I had to attend to before I delivered this to you.” He produces a small envelope from a pocket and extends it to you.

You look at your aunt, who seems equally bemused as you. “If I may ask, my lord, what is this?” you ask, feeling the smooth paper between your fingers. 

“My cousin, the Duchess of Hastings, is hosting a small party next weekend,” he says, either ignoring or not hearing the collective half-gasp in the room at the mention of the duchess. “She and the duke have just come in from the country for the season, and she is holding a gathering for some friends and family. I mentioned that I had met you, and she was quite excited to extend you an invite—she is also an avid enjoyer of music and wonderful pianist, so I am sure you two will get along very well.”

You feel a little lightheaded. Sure, you’ve performed for royalty, but you’ve never been on close terms with any of them. You were very clearly the entertainer and they the entertained, with very little chance to cross that line even if you were of a mind to. But now Lord Kang is offering you the chance to become acquainted to a duchess, just a step below royalty, and who loves music and is a pianist at that—

One corner of the envelope digs into your finger. Just a slight pain, but enough to remind you that this is real and not a dream.

A quick glance at your aunt earns you a subtle but very emphatic nod, so you look back to Lord Kang with a smile wider than it has been all day. “Please tell the duchess that I would be delighted to come,” you say. “Thank you for the invite, my lord. I do look forward to this event.”

“It is my pleasure.” Lord Kang smiles, and you don’t think it’s your imagination when you muse that it might be a little brighter than it was before. It’s certainly not your imagination when you briefly think you might like to look at that smile for a lot longer. But then the clock chimes and the smile falls, replaced by a sheepish expression. “Apologies again for calling so late, my lady.”

You shake your head. “It was no inconvenience at all.”

“Be that as it may, I will not keep you longer than the calling hour lasts,” he says, sweeping a bow. “Good day, Miss L/N, Lady Taylor. I look forward to seeing you again soon.”

. . . . .

“Taehyun!”

Taehyun turns to the sound of his name, not bothering to hide the wide smile spreading across his face when he sees who called for him. “Your Grace,” he greets as his cousin comes closer, her eyes sparkling. “It’s good to see you.”

She waves a hand. “Dispense with the formalities,” she sniffs, and then they both laugh. “How have you been? Oh—remind me before you leave, but my footman will help bring some of the books I need to return to your carriage.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” he says sincerely. “I also brought some of my own books to recommend, as well as the ones you asked for. And I’ve been well, though I’ve learned that the season is rather more…daunting, than I would have expected.”

The duchess nods sympathetically. “I don’t honestly believe it’s fun for anyone,” she admits. “Except maybe the dancing. But there are plenty of young ladies this season who would be a good match for anyone, if Whistledown is to be believed. Speaking of.” Her gaze wanders to the entrance. “Is that her? The debutante you asked to invite?”

Taehyun turns around, catching sight of a familiar face, and smiles. “Yes, that is.”

You step into the room with a sort of trepidation that Taehyun sorely understands. In the moments before you see him, you look somewhat lost, your own eyes wide as you take in the whole room. Your expression seems a bit overwhelmed so Taehyun wastes no time in catching your eye, and when you recognize him something like relief seems to pass over your face. Somehow, you two meet in the middle of the fray and for one strange moment Taehyun finds himself almost breathless. “Lady Taylor. Miss L/N,” he greets, pressing a soft kiss to your gloved hand. “I’m so glad you were able to come. Please allow me to introduce you to Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings.”

Lady Taylor curtsies, as do you. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace,” she says, her strong voice carrying just a hint of awe. “I am Lady Taylor, Viscountess of Wentworth, and this is my niece, Y/N L/N, daughter of the Viscount L/N.”

“It is wonderful to meet you both,” his cousin says, beaming widely. “And especially an honor to have met you, Miss L/N. You’ve caused quite a stir in town with your own fame here and abroad.”

Surprise flutters across your expression, replaced with a sort of embarrassed pride that Taehyun finds very endearing. “Your words do honor me, Your Grace,” you say, voice soft and shy, something of a far cry from the animation you displayed during the Tillings’ ball, or during your brief promenade in the park. You don’t look frightened, though, just somewhat in awe, so Taehyun brushes off his initial concern. “Particularly since the earl has mentioned that you are a lover of music, too. You give me high praise.”

Taehyun watches his cousin laugh and blush a little, and happiness bursts in a small bubble in his chest. She’s settled beautifully into her role as duchess and into her life with Yeonjun, but she’s still looking to widen her own circle of friends after spending so long abroad. The two of you begin to converse, your own shy face animating the more you speak, and with a smile and quick excuse, Taehyun ducks out of the conversation, heading toward the other end of the room. 

Yeonjun catches his eye first. “Taehyun!” he calls, beaming wide. 

“Your Grace,” Taehyun replies, settling into the circle that includes the duke, Beomgyu, Soobin, and Kai. “How have you all been?” 

Yeonjun pulls an exaggerated frown. “Hasn’t my wife told you to dispense with the pleasantries when we are among friends?” he asks, and Taehyun laughs because yes, she did exactly that. “Come, have a drink.”

Taehyun accepts the proffered glass and takes a sip. “You really pulled out all the stops for this,” he says approvingly, swirling the amber liquid inside. 

“What can I say?” Yeonjun shrugs airily. “My wife organized this. The least I could do is help make the event a success.”

“With expensive alcohol,” Soobin deadpans. 

“Exactly.”

Next to Taehyun, Beomgyu coughs very strangely. It almost sounds like he’s saying something like head over heels, actually. Then he yelps and Taehyun looks down just quickly enough to see Soobin’s foot pressing hard onto Beomgyu’s. 

Kai and Taehyun exchange glances. Taehyun has to look away to avoid bursting into laughter. 

“Don’t worry, Beomgyu.” Yeonjun beams beatifically over his own glass of expensive alcohol, sharp eyes glinting at his cousin. “Someday you’ll find a lady who will send you into fits of apoplexy with her beauty and wit, and on that day you’ll understand. Or maybe you’ve already found her.” He adopts a thinking expression. “Who was it that Whistledown mentioned? The lady from your childhood, Miss—”

Beomgyu lets out an incomprehensible noise somewhere between a screech and a snarl, and if they weren’t in Yeonjun’s own home, Taehyun thinks Beomgyu might have jumped the duke. As it stands, though, they begin bickering, which leaves Kai, Soobin, and himself to look at each other with raised eyebrows and exasperated smiles. 

“Let’s step away from the rabble,” Soobin suggests, and the three of them drift a short distance away. “I don’t understand how I’m related to them, sometimes.”

“Well, every family has its own set of strange relations,” Kai mutters. 

“You would know,” Taehyun says, and they all snort. 

“Do the inheritance squabbles still show no sign of ending?” Soobin asks curiously. “I would have thought by now that it’s become abundantly clear your uncle has no real claim to anything your grandfather left.”

Kai rolls his eyes. “Unfortunately not. But let us not speak of it now, please. Not in polite company,” he says, indicating the rest of the room. “Join me at the club sometime, and I will update you on all of it.”

“Of course,” Soobin says, dipping his head in apology. “How about you, Taehyun? How goes the season? I know you intended to find a wife by the end of it.”

Without really meaning to, Taehyun’s gaze wanders to the other end of the room, where you are still engaged in lively conversation with the duchess. “It is tiring in a way I did not really expect,” he replies. “Taemin didn’t complain much when he went through it, at least. But…” He pauses, wondering how much to tell. “I have met some very interesting young ladies.”

Kai snorts. Taehyun flashes him a short glare. “What?”

His friend doesn’t back down, just raises one mischievous eyebrow over his drink. “Well, I just think that I would say there’s one young lady that you find more interesting than all of the others.” 

Taehyun’s ears burn. He very purposely avoids looking in your direction again. 

“Well, do tell.” Soobin cocks his head, his own eyes glinting. “And don’t spare details.”

“There’s not much to tell,” Taehyun snaps, ignoring Kai’s snicker. “I’ve been speaking to Miss L/N, is all. The pianist,” he clarifies, and Soobin’s eyes widen in recognition. “She’s a very lovely young woman. Accomplished, not just with the piano, and very kind.”

“So lovely, actually, that he asked Her Grace to invite her today,” Kai adds. 

“Which one is she?” Soobin asks, ignoring Taehyun’s hiss of you suggested inviting her first! “Is she the lady speaking to the duchess now, with the rather dour-faced woman behind her?”

Taehyun sighs in defeat and nods. “Yes, she is.”

They all turn together, and almost at the same moment, the duchess turns in his direction as well. She catches his eye and immediately starts to head his way, bringing a small group with her. Kai glances at him with an eyebrow raised, but all Taehyun can do is shrug with similar confusion.

“Lord Kang,” she says as soon as they’re near enough to speak. “Mr. Huening. I understand that the two of you have seen Miss L/N perform before in Germany?”

They nod. “It was a most impressive performance,” Taehyun says earnestly. “A lovely program, played beautifully and wonderfully well.”

“Incredibly so,” Kai chimes in. “In fact, I was almost inspired to take music lessons because of it.”

You look supremely embarrassed, but the smile on your lips is still sparkling in your eyes in a way Taehyun hasn’t seen yet. “So you are the friend Lord Kang mentioned when we first met,” you say, and Taehyun has to laugh even as Kai flushes in embarrassment. “Oh—please do not be embarrassed, Mr. Huening. Your words do me a great honor, truly.”

“You are far too modest, my lady,” Taehyun replies, and while everyone’s attention turns to him, he keeps his eyes fixed on yours. “The praise is well earned, I hope you know that.”

“Which only means that the lady should honor our humble request,” Lord Jung says, a twinkle in his eye. “We were just asking that she take a turn on the pianoforte for us. A private performance, if you will, from one of the most accomplished musicians in our society. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for many of us, after all.”

A chorus of agreement sounds from your little group and begins to ripple outwards to the rest of the room as well. People begin to turn, expectation and excitement bright in their faces, but Taehyun glances at you only to find your expression somewhat frozen. 

All at once he remembers the dark night at the Tillings’ ball, the exhaustion clear in your face and your voice when you admitted you were searching for quiet, too. Are you tired now in the same way? He subtly inches a little closer to you and whispers lowly, “You do not have to if you do not wish to.”

You look up at him and your expression clears, eyes turning soft as you smile at him. “Worry not, my lord,” you reply. “I would love to perform. I was just momentarily overwhelmed—I wasn’t expecting quite so much enthusiasm. I do thank you for your concern, though.”

Taehyun smiles, shaking his head. “You are too modest,” he repeats. “The enthusiasm is only to be expected with a name such as yours. I am excited to hear what you play for us, too.”

You don’t have the chance to refute his praise because his cousin is taking your arm and leading you to the empty piano, the rest of the room excitedly whispering behind you. Taehyun watches you sit down at the keys, running your fingers over them with an almost reverent touch, your head bowed slightly over the sea of black and white as though in prayer.

And maybe it is a prayer, Taehyun thinks. Reverence paid to your love, music—like one paying thanks to their god. The thought is beautiful, and as you straighten slightly, positioning your hands at the instrument, he can’t help but admire you more. 

He doesn’t recognize the piece you play. It’s a lovely work, the quiet melody evocative of the night and dark while short, bright stanzas bring to mind the stars, and as your fingers waltz softly across the keys, Taehyun loses himself in the beauty of the music and the beauty of you. It is not that you weren’t beautiful before—far from it, actually—but seeing you in your element, with people who clearly appreciate your work and talent, is a spectacle Taehyun knows he will never tire of watching. It isn’t just the music. It’s the way you play it, the way you move with the melody—it’s the way you embody the music with your whole being that adds to the beauty of the moment, and the loveliness that is you. 

You finish the piece to silence, everyone’s collective breath hushed as you coax the last note from the piano strings. For a long moment, even after the final echoes of music have faded away, you remain bowed over the keys, eyes closed, hands suspended in the air before they drop softly to your lap. 

The first clap hardly breaks you from your reverie. Even as the applause grows, even as you curtsy to the shouts of Brava filling the room, you still seem like you are being pulled from the loveliest dream. Briefly, Taehyun wonders what it would be like to be in that dream with you—would it be like floating among the stars, letting their soft light wash over his body, or would it be like lying on a field of green grass at night, staring up at the moonlit sky?

You meet Taehyun’s eyes and in a moment you seem to jerk awake—your smile widens, your expression brightens, and he can’t help but do the same as you curtsy again and again. All the time his eyes never leave your face, his mind never leaving the beauty of your performance. 

Kai sidles up to his ear and snorts when Taehyun barely notices him. “You are going to court her, aren’t you?” he asks without preamble. 

“Yes.” Taehyun doesn’t even turn his eyes away from you to reply. “Yes, I am.”

. . . . .

At the start of the season, you’d hoped that the daily parade of balls, gatherings, promenades, and callers would die down a bit as the weeks went on. The season itself is six months, already half a year—you really thought there would be no way that the steady stream of events could continue for so long. 

This, apparently, is not the case. 

It’s been a month and there is no sign of the flow ebbing even slightly. Even when there aren’t massive balls that the entire ton is invited to, there are still the smaller gatherings—small parties, invites to dinner, promenades in the park—and even during the events where only the women are present, the talk always seems to turn to the season, to the debutantes, to engagements and marriage, and most of all, the fact that the queen has still not chosen a diamond. 

You’ve heard all manner of stupidity about this last topic of gossip, and it honestly annoys you more than anything else you’ve seen during the season. If the queen hasn’t chosen a diamond by now, you’d like to say, perhaps that means she simply does not plan to. But apparently the idea of a diamond being absent for the entire season is simply unthinkable to the mamas of the ton, and so after the separation of the sexes at every dinner party you attend, you’re forced to listen to them run the topic into the ground. 

The duchess’s gathering last weekend was a lovely respite from such talk. It was a much smaller gathering, mostly friends and family of the duchy who no longer have much of a stake in the season or who have lived long enough for them not to care. You were very lucky to have gotten an invitation to it at all. It was the first event you attended that you truly enjoyed from start to finish and you walked away from it with both a lingering happiness, a possible good friend in the duchess, and a promise of a call from the lord who invited you to the gathering in the first place. 

Even now, you can’t stop the rush of heat to your face when you remember his sincere compliments after your performance at the duchess’s. The way his large eyes sparkled so earnestly, his words sweet but respectful—it is true that you have only known him for a few weeks, but in that moment, you remember thinking that with every meeting your estimation of his character only seems to improve. And it isn’t just because he is effusive in paying you compliments for your performances. Lord Kang…he sees the person behind the performer, the hard work behind the talent. Of course it helps that he is somewhat of a musician himself—you’d love to hear him play sometime—but he clearly respects the work anyone puts into their own craft, from what you gathered in the conversations you shared with others at the party. 

Before you left, he had found you again and asked, somewhat shyly, if you enjoyed reading about music history or theory. When you responded yes to both, he told you he had several volumes on the subjects in his library, and would be happy to lend them to you if you wished. 

Aunt Taylor was not pleased by your stammering reply. Neither were you. But it was such a kind gesture that it took you aback for a good few moments, and by the time you had finally managed to convey that you would love that, you felt a true mess. Lord Kang didn’t seem perturbed by it at all, though. His smile only widened, and he said that then he would have to call sometime the next week, to see you and bring them to you. 

Your governess is certain he means to court you. So do your cousins, though Aunt Taylor has forbidden them from gossiping about it as it isn’t a sure thing yet. You aren’t quite as certain as they are, but deep inside, battling with the part of you that fears marriage and its shackles of responsibility, another part of you hopes that she is right.

The prospect of Lord Kang’s call is really what keeps you going through the seemingly endless nights of dinner parties and mindless chatter, small talk made with family friends you hardly remember and debutantes who either talk about topics you don’t know or care little about, or who look like they want to be there about as much as you do. You find a few kindred spirits among those who are bold enough to whisper their disdain aloud, though, and they make the time more worth it. 

Still, when the morning of Lord Kang’s call comes, you can’t help but feel as though a new light shines on the day. Cousin Lilly slyly remarks that you look more excited than usual as she removes her toddlers from the drawing room in anticipation of calling hour, and even Aunt Taylor’s hissed instructions to sit straight or you’ll turn a perfectly good suitor away doesn’t dampen your mood much as you settle into the couch, watching servants flit about with last minute preparations. 

Just a few minutes after the clock strikes three, a footman enters the room. “Lord Kang has come to call, my lady,” he says. 

You force yourself to breathe properly as your aunt tells him to bring Lord Kang in. For once, you thank the heavens for your aunt’s beady-eyed attention to detail. While her sharp critiques may sting more than they help when directed at you, it means that the room is clean and bright. Lord Kang should find himself most comfortable when he comes in. Or so you hope. 

Lord Kang enters the room with little fanfare, but with an abundance of quiet grace that, for all your earlier nervousness, immediately calms your nerves. After the initial greetings, he remarks on the careful décor of the room and pays compliment to your aunt, who actually looks briefly stunned before she accepts his praise. You’re smiling widely by the time he turns to you—maybe too widely for your aunt’s liking, but you can’t help it—and dare you say it? His eyes seem to sparkle a little more when he looks at you. 

“My lady,” he says, kissing your hand. “I trust you have been well since we last saw each other.”

“Quite so, and I hope I might say the same for you,” you reply. Honestly, you’re quite proud of yourself for keeping your voice so steady when your heart leapt so wildly the moment his lips touched your knuckles. 

“You may,” he says, eyes crinkling with a little mischief. “And as promised, I have brought you the books I mentioned when we spoke last time. I do hope you enjoy them.”

“I’m sure I will,” you say, taking the small stack of books with delight. Their worn covers speak of frequent and fond use, you note, scanning the titles embossed on their spines. “Oh!” you exclaim, sliding one of them out of the stack. “Oh, I’ve been wanting to read this for quite some time.” You beam up at Lord Kang. “Thank you so much, my lord.”

“It is my pleasure,” he replies, a lovely soft smile on his lips. “And, please, take your time reading them. Do not endeavor to return them sooner than you’d like—I’ve read them all, so you need not rush.”

“You are most kind,” you reply sincerely. “Oh, which reminds me.” Placing the books on a nearby table, you pick up a few sheets of music from the drawing room piano. “You mentioned last time that you had not heard the piece I played, and that you found it quite beautiful,” you say, extending the music to him. “I thought…I thought you might like to have the music. If you wanted to learn it yourself.”

Lord Kang takes a moment before he accepts the music from your hand, which makes you a little nervous—what if he doesn’t care for your gift? There’s no way it really compares to the volumes he’s lent you, you think miserably, but it’s all you could think of to give in return. But then he looks up from the black notes inked on the page, and that lovely smile of his has widened along with his bright eyes. “Thank you so much,” he breathes. “This is…the most perfect gift, my lady. I hope you will not mind me borrowing it for a time.”

“Oh, do not worry about returning it,” you say, smiling. “This is a new copy—I have my own for myself. This one is for you.”

“Well, in that case, I know what I will be doing when I return home,” Lord Kang replies, and the two of you laugh. “I can only hope to learn this piece half as well as you have.”

You laugh again, hiding a shy smile behind your hand. “Again, my lord, you flatter me too much.”

“No, I fear the world does not flatter you enough.” His words are so sincere, so earnest that you momentarily find yourself at a loss for words. And it’s then, of course, that you notice you’re both still standing. You haven’t even offered him a seat yet. 

“You really are too kind,” you reply, internally screaming. “Please my lord, do sit. We have some refreshments if you should like any, and our cook can prepare others if you are feeling particular.”

Lord Kang truly does have perfect manners, you note as you sit down together. He compliments the chef, your aunt, your governess, all so quickly and smoothly you barely have a moment to bat an eye. And then, when you’re floundering a little for a way to begin a conversation, he again takes the lead and engages you easily with a question about the composer of the music you gave him. 

It’s so easy to talk to him. Not just because he’s a wonderful conversationalist, which he is, but you feel comfortable around him in a way that you haven’t felt with any of the other suitors you’ve entertained over the past couple of weeks. Part of it is your shared interests, of course, but he listens to you with an attentive and respectful air that makes talking to him so much easier. It doesn’t feel fake, the way it does with some of the other men. It feels as though he really cares about you, your interests, and what makes you happy. 

And because of this, it’s not difficult to reciprocate in kind. As he mentioned during your promenade, Lord Kang clearly loves literature. When you ask about his library, his enthusiasm about the subject is infectious. At some point you land on the topic of an author that you both have read, one that he enjoyed and you didn’t, and it sparks a lively back-and-forth that has both of you laughing in the end. You’re nowhere near as well-read as he is, and in this conversation it unfortunately shows—his opinions on the author are deep and nuanced while you struggle to articulate what it is about the writing that made you dislike it so—but he remains patient and respectful, and despite your lack of knowledge, just like when you spoke during your promenade, you never feel out of place or embarrassed. 

“You are so well-read, my lord,” you say at the end of your little debate. Your throat rasps a little from speaking so much but you hardly notice, you’re smiling so hard. “How did you come into possession of so many books, and how do you have the time to read them all?”

“Well, both my mother and father enjoy collecting books, so I grew up surrounded by them,” he replies. Of course, you think—such a love for literature must have been cultivated from a young age, just as your love for music. “I took it upon myself to read as many as I could when I was a child, and so when I went to school I quite enjoyed my classics lessons. Upon inheriting the earldom, I was pleased to learn that the estate came with a very large library that the previous lord had left.” At that, Lord Kang’s smile softens. “I’ve been spending all the free time that I can reading as much as possible. The late lord must have been collecting books for a very long time, though—sometimes I wonder if I will be able to finish them all before I pass on.”

You nod in sympathy. “I feel the same about all the sheet music I have collected over the years. I always want to add more to my repertoire, but there’s just so much in the world. I could certainly never hope to finish it all, though perhaps that is the beauty in it. The beauty in creation, I mean.” You glance at the music you gifted him, lying on the table beside you two. “I believe art is a tribute to humanity, to human emotion and empathy. People will be composing and writing throughout my life and long after my death, and to know that this beauty continues on even though I will not be there to share it…I think that is beautiful. It is a wonderful tradition, passed on through the ages, and I will always be honored to have been a part of it.”

A short silence falls after your declaration. Suddenly self-conscious, you look up to find Lord Kang’s eyes riveted to yours. “That is a lovely way of seeing things,” he says softly. “I had never thought about art before in such a manner.”

You duck your head, heat crawling up your cheeks. “Many perspectives exist when it comes to the philosophy of the arts, my lord. This is only mine.”

He cocks his head, meeting your eyes again. “And a lovely philosophy it is, my lady.”

Thankfully—or unthankfully, really—you’re saved from having to come up with a response by the entrance of your footman. “Another caller has arrived,” he says, glancing at you, then Lord Kang, then at your aunt. “Shall I send him in?”

You glance up at the clock. Already half an hour has passed, though to your mind it feels like only seconds have slipped away—certainly not thirty minutes, already ten minutes over what a normal call would be. Inwardly you curse the next caller for having come too soon—actually, for having come at all—because while you may not know him well, you’re quite certain Lord Kang’s impeccable manners will have him clearing out before the next caller comes in. 

To your chagrin, you’re right. Lord Kang quickly stands and you follow suit, still cursing the clock and the caller. “I will not intrude upon your next call, my lady,” he says, and maybe it is delusion but you fancy he sounds somewhat put out when he says this. “I have already taken too much of your time.”

“Not too much at all, my lord.” You curtsy to his short bow. “I did not realize so much time had passed, but I quite enjoyed our conversation. And thank you kindly for lending me your books. I will be sure to enjoy them.”

“Of course.” He inclines his head with an enchanting smile. “And I must thank you again for your kind gift, my lady. Perhaps by the next time we meet, I will have learned to play it.”

You grin. “I do hope so. It would be so lovely to hear you perform sometime.”

With that, Lord Kang makes his goodbyes, and you’re left to welcome the next caller. He is thankfully not Mr. Haynesworth, as you had privately been dreading, but really, you feel that any caller would have paled in comparison to Lord Kang. Lord Kim, whom you met at the last ball you attended, isn’t rude or vile or even awkward. He’s a gentleman, all things considered. But after the requisite greetings, he begins the call with an outright statement about his plans for the future, which leaves you half-floundering for a response after your previous lively conversation with Lord Kang. 

Lord Kim doesn’t share any of your interests. He barely feigns interest in your music, and though he doesn’t say it outright, you’re almost certain he would want you to give up the piano if you were to marry. Though that’s not even what bothers you the most, you realize only when he’s about to leave—it’s the fact that he didn’t even ask you about it. It’s the expectation that he seems to have that you would do what he says without question, without the respect of even considering your passions and interests when planning out the rest of your possible life together. 

Later that night you lie awake in your bed, staring at the dark ceiling as you run through the events of the day. In an ideal world, you ask yourself, if you were to be married, what would make it a perfect marriage?

No conflict. Perfect understanding of one another, and perfect respect. But really, those are impossible demands. You’re not sure any marriage would be perfect without conflict, anyway—such a relationship sounds awfully like a domineering husband and submissive wife, which you hope to fully steer clear of. 

But understanding and respect, even if not perfect, doesn’t seem like it should be so unattainable. Marriage, you think, should be a partnership. And a partnership implies a mutual respect for one another, no? And maybe the definition of respect varies from one person to another, but for you, it involves a consideration of your interests and how deeply they play a role in your life. Because for you, before now, almost your entire life was music. You can’t—won’t—give it up just to play a role in society. So is there anyone who might give you that respect?

The answer is obvious already. 

You sigh, rubbing a thumb over where Lord Kang kissed your hand earlier in greeting. He certainly seems to be the ideal, at least for you. Your mind returns to your avid conversation, and his complete attentiveness to you. 

Few people have listened to you like he did today. Your mother did before she died, and sometimes your governess does, but not many others. You need that, you realize. You need someone, or something, to hear you—it’s partly why you poured so much of yourself into the piano when your mother passed, because it felt like only the instrument could hear you and understand your pain, your grief. That is what you need in marriage. In partnership. 

And, you think, remembering large eyes and a soft, wide smile, there’s only one person you know who seems to fit this ideal. 

. . . . .

“You look like you’re having quite a lot of fun.”

Taehyun turns from where he’s been staring at the drink table for probably a little too long. “Yeonjun? I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

The duke picks up two glasses and hands one to him. “We weren’t certain if we were going to come either. The duchess decided last night that she wanted to get out of the house for some time, so here we are. ”

Taehyun nods. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen the two of you out much since you returned to town.”

“It’s only been a couple of weeks since we returned,” Yeonjun defends. “There was and still is much to sort out, and unfortunately I have to return to the country next weekend to supervise the removal and fixing of some of the farmers’ equipment.” He sighs. “I hate responsibility.”

“It will all be fine, I’m sure,” Taehyun comforts. Yeonjun and his wife are two of the most capable people he knows; he’s certain they will be alright no matter what challenges they face. “Join us at the club tomorrow afternoon,” he offers. “Kai, Beomgyu, and Soobin will be there too.”

Yeonjun brightens immediately. “I will be there.” Then he squints his eyes into a mock frown. “Are you all now meeting without me? Is it because I’m old, and married, and jaded now?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Taehyun snickers into his drink as Yeonjun’s pout deepens exaggeratedly. “No, we just met up a few times when you were still in the country. You’ll be included in every invite now, I promise.” He pauses. “Though of course if you are busy, you are under no obligation to come.”

“Thank you very much.” Yeonjun grins, that eye smile that drove so many debutantes insane appearing on his face. “But enough about me. Now about you.” He fixes Taehyun with a stern eye. “I thought you were looking for a wife? You won’t have much luck with that, staring at this array of drinks.”

Taehyun makes a face. “I think many of these mamas want to find their daughters husbands more than I want to find myself a wife,” he mutters. 

Yeonjun nearly chokes into his drink. “That’s certainly one way to put the issue,” he coughs out, recovering. “Though I heard from Beomgyu that there is already a lady you have decided to court?”

“…Yes.” Taehyun narrows his eyes. “How did you know that? I only told Kai.”

“He says he heard it from Kai, so I think we know what happened there.” Yeonjun shrugs as Taehyun sighs. “Apparently you didn’t say it was a secret.”

He didn’t. But all the same… “He’ll be the death of me, someday,” Taehyun mutters. “But yes, I have someone in mind. Miss L/N. You met her a couple of weeks ago, at the gathering.” He pauses, then decides he may as well just be out with it. “I’ve been calling on her since.”

“That is wonderful to hear,” Yeonjun replies sincerely. “Is she here tonight?”

“She said she would be.” Taehyun glances around the room. “I specifically asked, because we keep seeming to miss each other at all the other balls. If I’m there, she isn’t, and if I’m not, she is.” They share a little laugh. “I haven’t been able to find her here since I arrived, though.” He gestures helplessly at the drink table. “Hence…”

Yeonjun makes a little ‘o’ of understanding. “I see. And you do not want to dance with any of the other debutantes?”

“I already have,” Taehyun says, glancing at the bustling dance floor. “I’m just…tired, I suppose.” He tries to smile. “You know how it is.”

He doesn’t, not really. In the year since Taehyun gotten to know the duke, he’s come to the conclusion that Yeonjun is like Taemin when it comes to things like this—ever social, ever happy to entertain and be entertained. But also like Taemin, he understands that Taehyun is different, and tires of these things much more easily than he does. “I understand,” Yeonjun replies sympathetically. A little glint enters his eye when he sees something just behind Taehyun. “If you’d like, I can cover you for a bit. So you can find some quiet.”

Taehyun casts a glance back. Sure enough, a small group of mamas and their daughters seem to be eyeing him and the duke. “That would be most appreciated,” he says gratefully. 

Within moments, Yeonjun has skillfully engaged the group of ladies in conversation and has also managed to snag a hapless Wooyoung into joining him, leaving Taehyun to slip past the throng. As the rooms grow less crowded and the corridors quieter, he takes a deep breath, reveling in the silence. 

Only it isn’t completely silent, even in this empty room. If Taehyun listens carefully, he can catch a hint of a melody that isn’t just the remnants of the orchestra fading in from a nearby corridor. 

Within moments, he’s heading down the corridor, a smile curving his lips as he searches for the source of the music. 

He finds the room with a little difficulty, following the sound of your performance down corridor after corridor. When he finally stumbles upon the slightly cracked open door, Taehyun is reminded of the second ball of the season, where he heard you that first time. He didn’t know it was you then, but he certainly knows it is you now. It helps that this is a piece he’s heard you play before—it’s a lovely Mozart sonata you performed when he called on you a few days ago—but your style is also so distinctive that even though Taehyun has only heard you play a handful of times, even not knowing the piece, he’s almost certain he would still know it was you. 

Taehyun smiles just beyond the room, leaning closer towards the open door. He won’t disturb you—even though he aims to court you, he would never trap you into a proposal by having someone catch the two of you alone together. He just wants to listen. And perhaps, when you’re finished, he’ll be able to catch you when you return back to the party, and you two can share a dance. 

It’s strange that in all the times you’ve met, the two of you have not yet danced together once. Taehyun aims to rectify that as soon as he can, if you will allow it. 

And allow it you will, he thinks. He’s certain he’s not the only one who has noticed how well you two get along. You must have felt it too, just as you must also have seen by now that he is quite interested in you.  And he’s almost sure that you are interested in him too, if your shy smiles and sweet words are anything to go by. 

Closing his eyes, he leans closer to the music. A brilliant sparkle of notes swirl under your fingers, the melody leaping with a joy that lingers in his ears and widens his smile. Cheerful and sweet, though there’s a noise that doesn’t sound right entering the piece. It’s strange—it sounds something like—

Footsteps?

Taehyun quickly ducks into a nearby empty room, praying no one saw him. The low conversation of the small group continues without interruption and he breathes a sigh of relief. They keep coming closer, though, and he thinks he can hear the voice of Lady Arina Park telling Her Majesty—she brought the queen?—that she must see the Gérard painting in this room, it’s quite famous and apparently not a fake—

Holding his breath, Taehyun watches them enter the room where you’re playing. But the music doesn’t stop, not just yet. He almost smiles—it’s not hard to believe you would be so lost in the melody that you wouldn’t notice a small group of people entering the room—but that smile freezes in place when the queen makes an exclamation and the music ends abruptly. 

Taehyun swallows. This might not be good. The queen can’t be pleased that you would avoid a ball to play the pianoforte—maybe he can help, just enter the room and act surprised to see everyone. He could easily claim he was curious about the music. 

He edges into the hallway just in time to hear you apologizing profusely. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, I was only taking a small pause from the ball—”

“Because you delight in your endeavors.” Taehyun stops short when he hears the smile in Her Majesty’s voice. He should leave—from her tone, you are probably not in trouble, which means it’s better for him not to be here. He wouldn’t want to be accused of eavesdropping on Her Majesty. Still, though he can’t help but hear the queen’s words as he takes soundless steps down the hallway. “Someone who performs not for me, but for themselves. Brava.”

That, Taehyun can agree with. Yet while part of his heart leaps in happiness for you—it is, after all, no small feat to impress the queen—another part of him remembers your desire for quiet at the Tillings’ ball and wonders what the queen’s attention might mean for an introverted woman like you. 

You mumble something that he doesn’t quite catch. And as Taehyun steps down the corridor, he hears the queen speak again, pleasure clear in her tone. 

“A performance that sparkles,” she declares. “Just like a diamond.”

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :) Note: part 2 will be posted in three days, on June 17 at 8pm EST :)

[txtaetertots]

stupid cupid. — kang taehyun x gn!reader

status 240813 - ?

schedule fri, sat, sun (est)

cw/genre swearing, bantering, social media au w/ written parts, cheesy corn supreme, angst might be a little heavy in this one i’m ngl, slowish burn, taehyun’s a bit of an ass at first um, mentions of divorce/relationship trauma, suggestive jokes here and there, as always pls ignore timestamps

synopsis journalism to kang taehyun is about communicating the truth with hard hitting evidence. a story or report isn’t worth telling if it has no substance or validity. so, when his editor in chief asks him, the anti romantic cynical writer, to write a cover story on the city’s most beloved matchmaker, he is faced with one of the most difficult jobs of his career.

featuring txt, ryujin (itzy), keeho (p1harmony), and more as they come

taglist OPEN! send an ask to be added!

profiles yn’s angels, keyboard assassins

happy valentine’s day friends <3 also pls let’s ignore how ugly this banner is i’ll fix her soon rip - yuri

updated: i fixed the banner 🥲

© txtaetertots

CHAPTER 01: i take it back!

CHAPTER 02: keeho is clueless

CHAPTER 03: new client (written w/ socials)

CHAPTER 04: love is a sham

CHAPTER 05: too beige

CHAPTER 06: shadowing

[beom-s-author]

` Taehyun imagines~° when you got sick

Taehyun and You were in the street for grocery shop because your fridge run empty after the times. He was reading the list and telling you the products you need. He was so careful for not forgetting anything and he was looking pretty cute while doing this.

The weather was kinda col during that time and you were only wearing shirt with small shorts under it. Taehyun tried to give his jacket to you but you refused for not making him cold also. And he was keep telling you about being more careful later because he knew that your immune system is not good as you think it is.

And you were sick after a day later. He saw that you are laying down on the bed, the tissues were all over there, your pillow was low and you were pale. He sighed. "And..I don't like saying I said it earlier but I am gonna say it anyway. You had to be more careful. You are sick now." He sighed. He stopped because he can realize how bad you are with sickness now. He came closer to you. He puts his hand over your forehead. "Hmm..You are feverish. Just Push the blanket away and I will grab wet cloth." Taehyun pulled the blanket away and he goes to the bathroom. He came with wet cloths. You could smell the vinegar from them. He smiled at you.

"Just bear with it sweetheart so you can get well." You nodded softly. He puts them over your head, he wets your hair and he helped you to sit on the bed. "Wait a bit,okay? I will get your medicines and water." A few minutes later, he came with them. You grabbed the pills and you drank the water too.

"Thanks. You don't have to take care of me while you have a lot of works, practise, vocal courses too." Taehyun smiled at you. "Honey, It is okay. I will help you with everything. It is normal to feel sick. I will deal with your sickness, your stubborness." You chuckled with his words but you ended up coughing. Taehyun stroked your back.

"Shh..it is okay. I will heat your bottle." Taehyun came a few minutes later with bottle. It was with hot water for your sore throat. You were sipping it slowly. He was so patient with your coughs, endless sneezing and sometimes burning up with fever in the night. You were mumbling his name and you were clinging to his pajamas while he is trying to sleep near of you. He was trying so hard to patient and distant so he won't get sick too. But your fever was so high and you were trying so hard to find a way to get relief.

He decided to that you can use the bath for relief so he dragged you to the bathroom. You washed yourself with warm water and you went out. He helped you to lay back down on the bed. You put your head over his chest. You were snuggling towards him. He held you in his arms. You were like a small kitten towards his affection care.

[loveadeclub]

Yeah, duh…..

[illumins]

⋆ ִ ۫ ּ ִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ˑ ּ 𖥔 𓄼 ࣪⠀ ִ ۫ ּ ֗ ִ ۪ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑ ᳝ ࣪

✦𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fantasy, romance, fanfic.

✦𝐩𝐨𝐯: third point of view

✦𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: blood; fighting; death.

✦𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: writing.

✦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: the cruel prince, once upon a broken heart, tinker bell series.

⟢𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : In a realm where the magic of the Fae still intertwines with human existence, Arlette Emberly, a resilient young woman raised among the Fae, holds onto a quiet, enduring affection for Prince Yeonjun of the Whispering Grove, despite years of his carefully guarded distance.

Yet, a deeper shadow stirs: the ancient, imprisoned Corrupted Queen of the Wild Hunt begins to awaken. She seeks not merely freedom, but ultimate power, setting her sights on the very artifacts that sustain the five Fae realms. This threat jeopardizes not only the inherent stability of the Fae world but also the delicate, fragile co-existence shared with humanity.

As chaos threatens to consume their world, Arlette finds herself inescapably pulled into the brewing conflict. Caught between ancient powers and a crumbling peace, she becomes a crucial, unlikely figure in the desperate fight to protect their intertwined worlds from the Wild Hunt.

✦ 𝐂 𝐇 𝐀 𝐏 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒 ✦

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒐

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒙

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

...+

[urfavmaknae]

As If You're Mine Pt. 2

PART 1

pairing: bestfriend!taehyun x fem!reader, non idol au

genre: fake dating, best friends to lovers, one sided love, slowburn

summary: in which two best friends fake a relationship to dodge an arranged marriage — but he’s already in love with her, and she’s too dumb to notice..

w/c: 7.5k

warnings!!!: slight family pressure and false expectations

a/n: ik i said non idol au and theres like glimpses of it like references to the studio n stuff but i just mean like in general its not really plus i love dancer taehyun so i had to put it in there once

The suitcase sat half-zipped on your bed.

You stared at it like it had personally insulted you.

Eunchae, sitting upside down on your couch with a lollipop in her mouth, was entirely unhelpful.

“Pack the black dress,” she said. “The one that makes your ass look like revenge.”

You threw a sock at her.

She caught it with her face. “I’m just saying. It’s an engagement party. The assignment is: serve, deflect questions, look so in love no one asks you why you’re not married yet.”

You groaned. “I hate this.”

“I know.”

You didn’t mean the party.

You meant the charade.

Even now — weeks into it — you still didn’t know what it was. This… thing between you and Taehyun. This almost-maybe-maybe-not relationship that had stopped being pretend somewhere along the way, but never quite said it aloud.

You were both still waiting for something.

For the other to say it first. For someone to pull away. For the point of no return.

And now you were heading into the lion’s den. A full weekend with your family. An engagement celebration and a forced smile and matching lies.

One shared bed.

One boy who didn’t know that the sound of his voice in the mornings was starting to feel like home.

Taehyun met you at the station the next morning.

Black duffel bag. Hoodie. Coffee in hand.

He grinned when he saw you. “Ready to lie?”

You tried to laugh. It came out thinner than you meant it to.

He noticed — of course he did — but didn’t comment.

He just reached for your bag and took it from your shoulder.

“C’mon,” he said softly. “You’ve got me.”

And maybe that’s what scared you most.

Because you did.

The train ride was two hours.

You spent most of it with your head on his shoulder, earbuds shared, legs brushing. He told you about a guy at the studio who spilled an entire smoothie into the speaker amp and nearly short-circuited the soundboard.

You laughed. He watched you laugh.

Then looked away.

And when you dozed off for ten minutes, you woke to find his hand resting on yours.

Like it belonged there.

You didn’t move.

Your aunt’s house was packed.

Voices, music, perfume. The smell of cooking meat. Children running underfoot. Cousins you barely remembered the names of.

And somewhere in all of it: your mother, sharp-eyed and already appraising.

You held Taehyun’s hand as you walked in.

You didn’t let go.

He was perfect.

Smiled in the right places. Helped carry chairs from the garage. Spoke softly to your grandmother like he’d known her for years. Laughed at your dad’s bad jokes and asked your uncle thoughtful questions about his work.

You watched him from across the room and felt your chest ache.

Because it wasn’t fake.

Not anymore.

Not when he slipped his arm around you during photos. Not when he leaned in to whisper dumb jokes in your ear. Not when he picked a flower from the garden and tucked it behind your ear like it was instinct.

And not when he looked at you like he couldn’t remember why you weren’t already his.

Later, after dinner, you found yourselves tucked away on the back porch.

It was quiet.

A string of fairy lights blinked above. The noise of the party dulled behind the windows. You sat close — too close — sharing a blanket over your knees, his shoulder warm against yours.

He was staring out at the dark yard. You were staring at him.

“I used to imagine this,” you said suddenly.

He turned. “What?”

“Having someone like this. Someone who’d… come with me. Make it easier.”

Taehyun’s voice was quiet. “I’m glad it’s me.”

You looked away.

Not because you didn’t believe it.

But because you did.

The guest room had one bed.

You stared at it like it had grown fangs.

Taehyun dropped his bag at the foot. “This okay?”

You nodded. “It’s fine.”

“Unless you want me to take the floor.”

“I don’t.”

He paused. “Okay.”

You stood on opposite sides of the room, brushing teeth in turns, folding clothes, fidgeting with chargers.

The bed might as well have been a chasm.

But eventually, you both climbed in.

The light was off.

But the silence was deafening.

You lay flat on your back, arms stiff at your sides, heart trying to drum its way out of your chest.

He shifted beside you.

Then: “Are you cold?”

You blinked. “A little.”

You weren’t.

But still — his arm found your waist.

Pulled you in.

Held you there.

And when your head rested on his chest, he let out a breath like he’d been holding it all day.

You didn’t speak for a long time.

Just lay there. Hearts in sync. Breaths slow. Fingers tangled in the space between you.

Then:

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“For what?”

“For making this bearable.”

His voice was rough. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

You looked up.

He was already looking at you.

His hand came up, gentle on your face, thumb brushing your cheek like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

And for a second — one long, suspended second — you thought he might kiss you.

But he didn’t.

He just said: “You know you never have to pretend with me, right?”

You nodded.

And then let your head fall back against his chest.

But your whole body was still trembling with everything you didn’t say.

You dreamed of him again.

This time, it wasn’t a kiss.

It was him in your kitchen, humming under his breath, stirring tea and handing you a spoon. It was his hoodie on your floor. His voice on your voicemail. His hand steady on your back as you walked into a room full of people who wanted you to be smaller.

You woke up in the crook of his arm.

And for one whole minute — you let yourself believe it was real.

You woke up in his arms.

Sunlight spilled across the bed in narrow stripes, cutting across the sheets and catching on the curve of his shoulder, the edge of his jaw, the fall of his hair across his forehead.

Your face was tucked into his chest.

His hand still rested at your waist, fingers curled loosely against your shirt.

You hadn’t moved all night.

Which meant, somewhere in his sleep, he’d pulled you closer — and hadn’t let go.

You should’ve moved.

You didn’t.

Instead, you watched him sleep for a full minute longer, heart ticking louder than it should’ve, throat tight with the pressure of things you hadn’t said.

Then, slowly — carefully — you peeled yourself away.

The cold air hit your skin immediately.

He stirred behind you as you stepped out of bed. Not fully awake, just enough to mumble something incoherent and roll toward the warmth you’d left behind.

You paused at the door.

And looked back.

He looked peaceful. Soft in a way you rarely saw him. And for a second — just one — you wanted to crawl back in beside him and let the world go quiet.

But instead, you slipped out into the hallway.

The kitchen was already loud.

Your mother was clinking plates too hard. Your aunt was barking orders. Your cousin’s kid was banging a spoon against the table like a personal vendetta.

You stepped in barefoot, still rubbing sleep from your eyes.

“Oh, good,” your mother said without looking up. “You’re finally awake.”

You reached for a glass of water. “Morning.”

“Is he still sleeping?”

You froze.

Then recovered. “Yeah. Long trip.”

Your mother hummed in that way she always did when she didn’t quite approve of something but wasn’t ready to say it outright.

“I didn’t realize he’d be staying in your room,” she said.

You turned. “You gave us one bed.”

She didn’t look up from the pot she was stirring. “That didn’t mean you had to share it.”

A beat.

Then she added, “But I suppose things are different with young people now.”

You clenched your jaw.

It wasn’t worth it. Not here. Not now.

You slipped outside before breakfast was served.

Found a quiet patch of grass at the back of the yard and sat in the sun, arms around your knees, head tilted to the sky like it might offer some kind of answer.

It didn’t.

But a few minutes later, you heard footsteps behind you.

Eunchae.

She flopped down beside you with all the grace of a poorly-tossed cushion.

“Your mom is spiraling,” she announced. “I think the egg yolks weren’t jiggly enough for her pride.”

You laughed — more of a puff of air than a sound.

She watched you.

“You okay?”

You shrugged.

She nudged your knee. “Taehyun’s still in there, by the way. He got roped into setting the table with your dad and he’s being so charming it’s actually illegal.”

That made you smile.

But only barely.

She tilted her head. “What’s going on in your brain?”

You didn’t answer.

So she added, more gently this time: “You looked really happy last night.”

You let that sit for a moment.

Then: “I don’t know how to tell the truth anymore.”

Eunchae didn’t push. Didn’t fill the silence. Just sat beside you as the breeze moved through the trees and the hum of your family’s voices drifted out through the windows.

It was enough.

Breakfast was… something.

The table was crowded. Plates clinking. Toast passed too aggressively. Questions flying like darts.

Your uncle — the one who always asked too much — zeroed in like a bloodhound.

“So how long have you two been together again?”

You opened your mouth.

Taehyun beat you to it.

“Just over three months,” he said easily, hand resting on your thigh under the table like punctuation. “We were best friends for years before that, though.”

“Oh?” Your aunt perked up. “Who made the first move?”

You nearly choked on your tea.

Taehyun didn’t blink.

“She did.”

Every head turned.

You blinked. “I did?”

He smiled at you, warm and sure. “You kissed me first.”

You stared.

He turned back to your family. “It was right after she yelled at me for forgetting her birthday. In my defense, I was planning a surprise. In her defense, she doesn’t like surprises.”

Laughter rippled around the table.

Your heart pounded so loud you were sure it could be heard between bites of omelette and sips of coffee.

Later, when you cornered him at the sink while washing dishes, you hissed, “That did not happen.”

He shrugged. “They liked it.”

“You’re insane.”

He grinned. “You’re welcome.”

And then — because he had no sense of self-preservation — he added, “You’d kiss me first, though.”

You shoved a sponge at his face.

He didn’t flinch.

Just smiled wider.

The day dragged.

Cousins. Conversations. Group photos. Too much food. Passive-aggressive questions about your “future” and “when you’ll finally settle down.”

Taehyun was a shield through all of it.

He never left your side.

Laughed at your dad’s jokes. Tied a toddler’s shoelaces. Held your hand like he’d always done it.

And then — sometime after sunset, when the chaos died down and most of the guests had gone home — you found yourselves sitting alone on the stairs.

You both stared out at the dark yard.

You were barefoot again. Hair still slightly damp from your evening shower. Wearing one of his hoodies that had somehow ended up in your bag.

He rested his chin on his knees.

Neither of you spoke for a long time.

Then:

“I meant what I said,” he murmured.

You turned. “What?”

“At breakfast. That you kissed me first.”

You blinked.

He added, “I meant it… in the way that matters.”

You didn’t know what to say to that.

So you didn’t say anything.

He let it go.

But something changed again.

The air between you — thinner now. Hungrier. Tighter around the edges.

Back in your room, you stood at opposite sides of the bed again.

Brushed teeth. Changed clothes. Turned off the light.

Silence.

Until — just as you slid beneath the covers — he said your name.

You turned.

He was staring at the ceiling.

His voice was quiet.

“I don’t want to go back to how it was.”

You swallowed.

“Before,” he clarified. “When we were just friends.”

You didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

He rolled onto his side.

Faced you.

His hand found yours under the sheets. Fingers brushing. Threading. Holding.

And then he said, softer than anything:

“I think I’ve loved you for a long time.”

You stared at him.

Heart loud. Mouth useless. Every word you should’ve said suddenly dust in your throat.

But he didn’t wait.

Didn’t ask you to answer.

He just reached up — tucked a piece of hair behind your ear — and said:

“You don’t have to say anything. I just… I needed you to know.”

And you nodded.

Because anything more than that would’ve shattered you.

You didn’t sleep for a long time.

Not because you didn’t want to.

But because you couldn’t stop replaying it.

His words. His eyes. His hand in yours. The truth of it all — soft and terrifying and real.

You didn’t kiss.

Not yet.

But when you woke the next morning and found yourself still wrapped in his arms, his breath steady against the back of your neck — You knew you wouldn’t be able to keep pretending much longer.

You left the next morning without saying much.

Your bag was already packed when Taehyun woke up, his hair a sleepy mess, eyes still heavy from sleep. He blinked at you like he’d forgotten for a moment where he was — or maybe, more likely, he’d forgotten that everything had shifted.

You didn’t bring it up. Neither did he.

You just said goodbye to your family, gave a long hug to your grandmother, and promised Eunchae you’d “text when you weren’t being dramatic.”

She only replied with a wink and a too-knowing: “Don’t break his heart.”

The train ride back was quiet.

He offered you an earbud. You took it. He handed you the last choco pie from his bag. You split it in half without speaking.

There was something heavier between you now. Not bad — just… full. Like silence that knew too much.

He didn’t repeat what he said.

You didn’t ask if he meant it.

But when you dozed off for a little while and your head tilted onto his shoulder — he didn’t move.

And when you woke up to find your fingers threaded together in your lap — he didn’t let go.

Back at your apartment, he helped you drag your suitcase up the stairs like always.

You hesitated at the door.

“Want to come in?”

He looked at you.

Then nodded.

Inside, everything felt off.

Like your home didn’t quite fit anymore — or maybe like it was finally trying to make space for something else.

He sat on the couch. You brought him a water. He fiddled with the label while you stood there, unsure what to say.

Until finally:

“Did you mean it?” you asked.

He looked up. “Mean what?”

You gave him a look.

He hesitated.

Then: “Yeah.”

You nodded once. Slowly.

Then sat down beside him.

You didn’t touch.

Didn’t speak.

You just sat in the quiet, hearts loud enough to fill the silence.

A few days passed.

You didn’t talk about it.

He texted like normal. Dropped off coffee. Teased you about your terrible note-taking app and sent you videos of dogs wearing sunglasses.

It was the same.

Except it wasn’t.

Thursday night, Beomgyu cornered you at a café.

You hadn’t seen him since the weekend — too busy pretending you weren’t avoiding your own feelings — but he looked at you like he already knew everything.

“You’re quiet,” he said.

“I’m drinking.”

“You’re always quiet when you’re emotionally constipated.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Did you just call me constipated?”

He didn’t blink. “Emotionally. You’re in love with Taehyun.”

You nearly choked on your iced tea.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I—”

He leaned across the table, deadly calm. “I saw him look at you the other day. That boy’s in love with you. And either you’re the dumbest woman alive or you’re too scared to admit you want him back.”

You stared at him.

He added, “Also, Soobin owes me twenty bucks. We’ve been betting on when this would implode.”

You threw a napkin at his face.

But deep down — you knew he was right.

That weekend, it happened.

You were walking home from the store together. It was late. A little cold. You were both tired. Your arms brushed three times and neither of you moved away.

Then you stopped to fix your bag — one strap had fallen — and he turned to help, fingers brushing your shoulder, tugging the strap straight again.

And you looked up.

And he looked down.

And then…

He kissed you.

Not hesitantly. Not like the others. Not soft or unsure or “just in case someone’s watching.”

This was real.

His hand slid to the back of your neck. Yours gripped the front of his hoodie. His mouth moved like he’d been thinking about this for months.

And when he finally pulled away — just barely, just enough to look at you — he said, “That one wasn’t for your family.”

You couldn’t speak.

You just stared at him.

And he didn’t press.

Didn’t demand anything.

He just took your hand.

And kept walking.

Later that night, lying in bed, your phone buzzed.

A message from your mother.

MOM [9:12 PM] We’re having a small dinner next weekend. Just family. You’ll come, right? And bring Taehyun.

Your stomach dropped.

Because this time… she’d know.

There’d be no excuse. No group event. No crowd to blend into.

Just you, him, and the lie you didn’t want to tell anymore.

The day of the dinner came too fast.

You hadn’t seen him since the kiss. Hadn’t kissed again either. You’d texted. Lightly. Stupid memes. A TikTok of a cat doing Pilates.

But you hadn’t talked about it.

Not the kiss. Not the message from your mom. Not what it meant that he kissed you like it was something he’d been holding inside for years.

Now you were in your childhood bathroom, staring at your own reflection and trying not to panic.

Your hands shook when you put on lipstick. You wiped it off.

He met you at the train station.

Back in that hoodie. Quiet. Steady.

He held out a hand.

You took it.

Neither of you said anything.

The house was smaller than you remembered.

Or maybe it was just that everything inside it felt tighter now. The rooms were packed with expectation. Your mother’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Your dad gave Taehyun a nod and a joke about “finally making an honest woman out of you.”

You laughed.

But it cracked at the edges.

Taehyun smiled too. But he wasn’t really smiling.

Dinner was tense.

Small, your ass. There were eight people crammed around that table, plus two toddlers and a family friend who kept asking if you were “the couple who met through an app.”

Your aunt asked when you were planning to move in together. Your uncle asked if you’d talked about marriage. Your mom asked if Taehyun’s parents knew about you.

You wanted to crawl under the table.

Taehyun, as always, was perfect.

Answering gently. Redirecting questions. Resting a hand on your knee when he could feel your leg bouncing under the table.

But the storm was coming.

And you both knew it.

It happened after dessert.

Someone — you didn’t even remember who — made a joke about wedding dates.

“Don’t wait too long,” your mom said. “You’re not getting any younger.”

You froze.

“I mean, really,” she added. “You’re already living together. What’s the point in delaying?”

You blinked.

Taehyun said nothing.

Your cousin leaned forward. “Wait — you’re living together?”

Shit.

You tried to recover. “Not really—”

But your mother laughed. “Don’t be shy now. You basically are. Always together. Practically attached.”

More laughter.

And Taehyun — sweet, steady, safe Taehyun — stood up.

“I need air,” he said.

And left.

You followed him outside, breath stuck in your throat.

He was pacing near the back fence, hoodie sleeves shoved up, hands in his hair.

“Taehyun—”

“I can’t do this,” he said, too fast.

You stopped. “Do what?”

“This. All of it. Pretending. Lying to your family. Watching them talk about us like it’s real when I—”

He cut himself off.

But it was too late.

You stepped forward. “When you what?”

He looked at you.

And in that moment, he looked tired.

Not physically. Not even angry.

Just… done.

“When I meant it,” he said.

Your chest squeezed.

“I meant it, okay?” he continued. “Every time I touched you. Every time I called you mine. Every single kiss. I wasn’t pretending.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

He stepped closer.

“I kissed you and you didn’t say anything. I told you I loved you and you nodded. You let me follow you into this whole mess and then what? You go quiet again?”

You opened your mouth.

Closed it.

“Do you even want this?” he asked, voice softer now. “Do you want me? Or do you just want someone to play along?”

“That’s not fair.”

He nodded. “Maybe not. But it feels true.”

Silence.

You didn’t know what to say.

Because you did want him.

But wanting him meant admitting every reason why you didn’t think you could have him. Every fear, every wall, every part of you that still thought you weren’t allowed to be loved like that.

And right now — you couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

So he took a step back.

“Maybe we should take a break.”

The words hit harder than you expected.

You flinched. “From what?”

“From pretending,” he said. “From… whatever this is.”

You blinked hard.

He ran a hand down his face. “I don’t want to hate you.”

“You won’t.”

He looked at you.

And for the first time in weeks — you weren’t sure if that was true.

He left without another word.

Didn’t walk you to the station. Didn’t text when he got home. Didn’t check in the next day.

And you didn’t know how to fix it.

Not yet.

But you knew this: It wasn’t pretend anymore.

Not for either of you.

And whatever came next… It was going to hurt.

You didn’t hear from him for a week.

No calls. No texts. No "good morning" meme dumps or late-night rants about subpar gym equipment.

The silence sat heavy in your apartment.

You woke up and checked your phone out of habit. Nothing. You opened your notes app and typed out a message you didn’t send. You played the playlist he made you and skipped every track.

It wasn’t just the absence of him. It was the absence of who you were when he was around.

Soobin texted once.

SOOBIN [7:42 PM] Are you okay?

You stared at it.

Typed, deleted, retyped.

Then answered:

just tired.

He didn’t press.

You were grateful. You also kind of hated it.

Tuesday night, you saw Taehyun’s name light up on Beomgyu’s Instagram story.

Studio selfie. Half his face. Hoodie hood up. Same one he’d been wearing the day he left.

You stared at it for a long time.

Didn’t like it. Didn’t message. Just… stared.

He looked tired.

Or maybe that was you projecting.

The worst part wasn’t the silence. It was how familiar everything else still was.

You still got coffee from the same café. Still wore the hoodie he left at your place when you weren’t thinking. Still ordered two serves whenever you bought his favourite food. Still reached for your phone when something funny happened.

And then remembered he wasn’t there.

You cried once.

Just once.

Late at night, in the shower, when everything went too quiet and the water felt too cold and you couldn’t remember why you were pretending not to miss him.

It wasn’t loud.

It wasn’t dramatic.

It was just soft, stupid tears sliding down your cheeks as you leaned your head against the wall and whispered, “I’m sorry,” to no one.

Eunchae knew something was wrong.

You could tell by the way she texted you dumb TikToks three times a day and sent you UberEats unprompted with the note:

eat. or i’ll come over and cry on your floor.

You didn’t respond.

But you ate the noodles.

And hated how much it helped.

You ran into him on a Thursday.

Totally unplanned. Grocery store. Aisle six. You were reaching for oat milk. He was holding a basket of protein bars and bananas.

You froze.

So did he.

A beat of silence.

Then he nodded.

You nodded back.

He turned and walked away.

You stood there for a long time, hand still hovering mid-air, heart in your throat.

You didn’t cry.

But your chest ached for hours.

After that, it got worse.

Because now you knew how close he was. That you could run into him again. That he might be on the next street, the next train, the next seat over in a café. And still not yours.

Your mom texted again.

MOM [8:02 PM] Why hasn’t Taehyun been around lately?

You stared at the screen for a full five minutes.

Then typed:

he’s busy.

Then turned off your phone.

You tried to distract yourself.

Work. Walks. Dinners you didn’t want to go to. Random YouTube rabbit holes. Trying to make bread from scratch and failing so hard the dough looked like regret.

But nothing filled the space where he used to be.

He had become a part of your rhythm.

And now the silence was a song you didn’t know how to stop humming.

The group chat was quieter than usual.

You muted it after a few days.

You knew you were being dramatic. But every message that popped up made you think of his voice reading it out loud.

And you couldn’t deal with that right now.

Ten days in, you found the hoodie again.

It had slipped behind your bed.

You picked it up like it might burn you.

Then folded it. Put it on your desk chair. And stared at it for the rest of the night.

You didn’t wear it.

You wanted to.

You didn’t.

You passed by the dance studio one night.

Just walking.

But the lights were on. Music faint behind the windows. His silhouette moving in sharp, clean lines. Alone.

You stopped across the street.

Watched.

His head was down. Focused. Every motion tight and tense, like he was trying to beat something out of himself with choreography.

You didn’t go in.

Didn’t wave.

Just stood in the dark until he turned the lights off and walked out the back.

And you walked home in the opposite direction.

You started writing a message.

Every night.

And every night, you deleted it.

Because what would you say?

“I miss you.” Too much. “I’m sorry.” For which part? “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” But you had. “I love you too.” But too late.

You saw him again two weeks later.

Eunchae dragged you out for drinks, claiming you looked like a “haunted Victorian widow.” You made it two hours before you saw him walk into the bar — casual, calm, with Soobin at his side.

He didn’t see you at first.

But when he did — when your eyes met across the room — he didn’t look away.

You did.

Five minutes later, he was gone.

Soobin stayed behind.

He sat next to you.

Didn’t say anything for a long time.

Then finally: “He’s hurting too.”

You stared at your glass.

“Then why won’t he say anything?”

Soobin gave you a sad smile.

“Why won’t you?”

You didn’t sleep that night.

You stared at the ceiling and let the guilt rot you.

Not because of what you did. But because of what you didn’t do.

You let him love you.

And when he finally said it — finally gave it a name — you nodded and said nothing.

Now he was gone.

And you didn’t know if he’d come back.

The hoodie was still on your chair.

You hadn’t moved it.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. That you just hadn’t thought about it. But the truth was — you thought about it all the time.

You touched it once.

Just brushed your fingers across the cuff.

It still smelled like him.

You didn’t cry.

But you did sit on the edge of your bed and stare at nothing for a long time.

Eunchae cornered you a few days later.

Stormed into your apartment with a bag of chips and a soda and the expression of someone who had just about had it.

“I’m not even gonna ask how you are,” she said. “Because I know the answer is ‘bad, thanks.’ So instead, I’m gonna say this once, and then I’m going to eat all your snacks while glaring at you.”

You blinked. “Okay?”

She folded her arms. “Talk to him.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You just won’t.”

You looked down.

She softened a little. “I know it’s scary. I know you think you ruined everything. But he’s not going to wait forever. And you’re not going to stop loving him just because it hurts.”

That made your breath catch.

Eunchae saw it.

She stepped forward.

“You don’t have to fix everything tonight. But say something. Anything. Because silence isn’t safety anymore. It’s just punishment.”

You didn’t answer.

But something cracked.

Just a little.

That night, you stood outside his apartment building.

You didn’t go in.

Didn’t call.

You just stood there for fifteen minutes — hood up, headphones in, heart in your throat — staring at the door you used to walk through without thinking.

Then you turned around.

Went home.

But you slept a little easier.

The next day, you sent a message.

you left a hoodie. i should return it.

You almost deleted it.

But before you could — three dots appeared.

Then disappeared.

Then came back.

Then finally:

TAEHYUN [4:08 PM] okay.

Just that.

But it was more than nothing.

You met at a café.

Neutral ground. Public. Safe.

You got there early and almost left twice. He walked in at 3:07 wearing a black jacket and the expression of someone trying to keep it together.

You both ordered. Sat. Said nothing.

Until finally — quietly — he asked, “How have you been?”

It shouldn’t have hurt.

But it did.

You shrugged. “Not great.”

He nodded once. “Same.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time. Just tired.

You both sipped your drinks.

You picked at the edge of a napkin. He didn’t look at you.

You wanted to say so much.

Instead, you said: “I didn’t know how to fix it.”

He looked up.

“I still don’t,” you added.

He didn’t speak.

So you kept going.

“I messed up. I know that. You gave me everything and I— I couldn’t even say the words.”

He looked at you then.

Really looked.

“You didn’t have to say them,” he said. “I just needed to know they were in there somewhere.”

“They were.”

A beat.

He nodded. “Okay.”

You swallowed.

“I miss you.”

This time, something broke in him.

“I miss you too.”

And there it was.

Just a thread. Thin. Fragile. But real.

You didn’t kiss.

Didn’t touch.

But when you both stood up to leave, he hesitated — and then gently, carefully, handed you back your scarf.

The one you didn’t even remember leaving behind.

“I kept it,” he said. “In case.”

You took it.

Held it to your chest.

And for the first time in weeks — you both smiled.

Tiny. Tired.

But real.

That night, you slept better.

Not because everything was fixed. Not because it didn’t still hurt. But because for the first time, you knew he was still there. And maybe — maybe — the rest would follow.

If you’d blinked, you might’ve missed the rain starting.

It came softly first — like breath against a windowpane — the kind of rain that didn’t ask permission before slipping into your evening.

You were sitting cross-legged on your couch, knees tucked beneath an old hoodie. His hoodie. The same one you told yourself you’d give back weeks ago. The one that still smelled faintly like his shampoo, like late nights in his apartment, like memories that didn’t ask to stay but refused to leave.

You hadn’t texted him in three days.

He hadn’t texted you either.

But you’d both been thinking about each other — that much you were sure of.

There were signs. Always signs.

The café that played his favorite song when you walked past. The news article about that dumb protein bar lawsuit you used to joke about. The dream you had the night before — the one where he held your hand and said nothing, but didn’t let go.

You hadn’t slept since.

You missed him. But missing wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

You stared at your phone. Then looked away. Then picked it up again. Then locked it.

Rinse. Repeat.

Somewhere between your third mental draft of a text message and your fourth failed attempt at calming your heartbeat, it hit you — you couldn’t keep doing this.

You couldn’t keep walking around with your love zipped up behind your ribs like something shameful.

You couldn’t keep thinking that silence would keep him near.

You had to do something.

You had to move.

The air outside was thick — swollen with water and something else. Something you couldn’t name.

You didn’t grab an umbrella. Didn’t change your clothes. Didn’t tie your shoelaces.

You just ran.

Feet slapping against wet pavement, heart pounding in time. Every breath burned. Every thought repeated the same three words:

“Don’t be too late.”

It took seventeen minutes and twenty-three seconds to get to him.

You counted every one.

The rain grew heavier with each block — falling like a metronome against your shoulders, your face, your eyelids.

You didn’t stop. Not even when a car splashed water onto your jeans. Not even when your lungs screamed. Not even when your legs nearly gave out.

Because he was there.

He had to be there.

If he wasn’t—

No. You couldn’t think about that.

When you reached the street corner across from the studio, you froze.

There he was.

Sitting on the steps.

Hood pulled up. Shoulders hunched.

Still. Silent.

So him.

But something in you broke at the sight.

Because even from here — through rain and headlights and the chaos of a city that didn’t know your name — you could tell he wasn’t okay.

He looked like he was waiting for something.

Or maybe someone.

Maybe you.

You stepped off the curb.

The rain was merciless now — so loud it drowned your thoughts, so cold it stung your skin. But you didn’t care.

Each step was a prayer.

A risk.

A truth.

You stopped just in front of him.

Water ran down your cheeks, your arms, the inside of your collar. His hoodie clung to you like second skin.

He didn’t look up.

Not at first.

But then—

He did.

And when his eyes met yours — tired, guarded, familiar — you knew.

He still wanted you.

He just didn’t think you wanted him back.

“Why are you here?” he asked, voice quiet beneath the storm.

You stepped closer.

Because standing still hurt more than running.

“Because I couldn’t stay away.”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t move.

So you spoke again.

Slowly. Carefully. Every word a weight you’d carried too long.

“I kept thinking if I waited long enough, it would pass. That if I just stayed quiet, I wouldn’t lose you.”

His gaze flicked toward the sidewalk. His jaw tightened.

“But silence was losing you, wasn’t it?”

No answer.

Only rain.

So you filled the silence.

“I miss you.”

Nothing.

“I dream about you.”

His eyes shut.

“I wear your hoodie. I still— I haven’t taken it off.”

His mouth opened. Closed again.

“I love you.”

That did it.

He looked up.

It wasn’t dramatic. Wasn’t cinematic.

Just a single, startled breath.

Like you’d touched something raw.

You took a step closer.

“I love you,” you repeated, voice shaking. “I’ve loved you for longer than I know how to explain. I was stupid. I was scared. And I thought if I kept it to myself, maybe I wouldn’t mess it up. But I did anyway. And I— I’m sorry.”

You paused.

Waited.

But he said nothing.

So you kept going.

“I’m not asking for anything. I just needed you to know.”

And then—

He stood up.

Slowly.

Like the movement itself was painful.

Then— “I should hate you.”

Your breath caught.

You nodded. “I know.”

He stepped closer.

“I tried to.”

Your hands trembled.

“I know.”

His voice dropped.

“But I couldn’t.”

Then—

He kissed you.

And oh, god.

You thought you’d imagined this a hundred times — but none of it came close.

His hands were in your hair, on your cheeks, on your back. Yours gripped his hoodie, his neck, his heart. The rain didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow. But you didn’t care.

Because he was here.

He was real.

And you had finally said it.

“I love you,” he said into your mouth.

“I love you,” you replied between gasps.

Again. And again.

Like you were learning how to breathe for the first time.

The kiss slowed.

His arms wrapped around you.

Your forehead pressed to his chest.

Your heartbeat thudded in time with his.

And for a moment — the first in weeks — you didn’t feel like a mess.

You felt like something whole.

But then— His phone buzzed.

Once. Twice. A third time.

He pulled back.

You blinked up at him.

“What is it?”

He looked at the screen.

Paused.

And the light in his face changed.

Then— “I have to go.”

Your heart cracked.

“What?”

He looked at you.

Apologetic. Torn. Panicked.

“I’m sorry.”

“Taehyun— wait—”

But he was already moving.

Already halfway down the street.

Already gone.

And you?

You stood there.

Rain running down your spine.

Hands still outstretched.

Mouth still tasting him.

Heart still saying:

“I love you.”

But he was already gone.

And you didn’t know if this time — he’d come back.

You didn’t sleep that night.

Not because of the kiss — though that replayed in your mind on an endless loop — but because of how it ended.

The moment he pulled away. The look on his face. The way he said, “I’m sorry,” like it was final.

You didn’t know where he went.

And that terrified you.

You stared at your phone for hours.

Every sound made your chest tighten.

Every buzz made your hands shake.

But nothing came.

No text. No call. No explanation.

The hoodie was still soaked. You wore it anyway.

The next morning, you showed up at the studio.

It was locked.

No lights. No signs.

You waited anyway.

Two hours.

Nothing.

So you walked. No destination, no plan. Just wandering streets he might’ve touched.

You passed the bench he liked to sit at after practice. The bakery where he once bought you coffee just to see you smile. The alley where he taught you to dance in the middle of the night.

No sign of him.

Only ghosts.

You called Beomgyu around noon.

He picked up on the third ring.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you croaked.

A pause.

Then: “You okay?”

“No.”

Another beat.

“You want me to come over?”

You hesitated. Then: “I want to find him.”

Beomgyu didn’t ask who. Didn’t ask why.

Just said, “Okay. Give me ten.”

You didn’t realize how bad you looked until Beomgyu’s eyes widened when he opened your door.

“You look like a Victorian child who’s been crying on a moor.”

You blinked.

He softened. “Come here.”

You didn’t cry. But you let him hold you.

Then you both got to work.

Beomgyu texted the others.

Soobin replied first.

SOOBIN [1:37 PM] Haven’t seen him since rehearsal. He left early. Said it was a family thing. Want me to check in?

BEOMGYU [1:38 PM] Let’s not crowd him yet. We’ll try some spots.

So you tried the library where he liked to read alone. The gym. The pier. Even his mom’s house — from a distance.

Nothing.

By sunset, you were slumped on Beomgyu’s couch, eyes burning, heart hollow.

“I don’t get it,” you whispered. “Why run after that? Why leave?”

Beomgyu handed you a drink.

“Because he loves you.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does when you’ve loved someone silently for years and suddenly it’s real. It’s terrifying.”

You swallowed. “I don’t want to lose him again.”

“Then don’t.”

You texted Eunchae.

me [6:44 PM] i messed it up again.

EUNCHAE [6:44 PM] where is he. i will punch him in the face and then kiss you on the forehead

me [6:45 PM] i don’t know

EUNCHAE [6:46 PM] ok. operation hopeless romantic is a GO. give me 30.

She came armed with snacks, a playlist called “taehyun pls get your shit together,” and a very aggressive pep talk.

“You are not giving up. You are not waiting. You are going to find him, tell him you love him AGAIN, and then you are going to KISS HIS STUPID FACE like you mean it.”

You blinked.

Beomgyu nodded. “That was kinda hot, not gonna lie.”

“Thanks,” Eunchae said. “Now move.”

You found him the next day.

Not in a studio. Not on a rooftop. Not even at home.

You found him at the old bookstore on the corner of 6th — the one with the creaky floors and tiny bell over the door.

He was sitting on the floor in the back, reading, hood up.

You nearly walked past him.

But then he looked up.

And everything stopped.

Neither of you spoke for a long time.

You stood there, heart pounding.

He stared at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

Then: “Hey.”

It was barely a whisper.

“Hi,” you breathed.

Another pause.

Then, still quiet: “You found me.”

Your voice cracked.

“I never stopped looking.”

You didn’t sit.

Just stood there, shaking.

“I don’t understand,” you whispered. “Why did you leave?”

He closed his book.

Held it in his lap.

“I was scared.”

You nodded. “Me too.”

He looked up.

“But you still ran to me. And I ran away.”

His hands were shaking.

“I didn’t want you to see everything. How much I’d been waiting. How much I still... hoped.”

“You didn’t want me to see you hurting?”

He nodded.

“I already did.”

He stood slowly.

Still didn’t step closer.

“I didn’t know if you’d mean it.”

“I did.”

“I didn’t know if it was real.”

“It is.”

“I didn’t want you to regret it.”

“I never did.”

He stared at you.

Then: “Why?”

You blinked. “Why what?”

“Why now? Why me?”

You stepped forward.

“I think it was always you.”

A breath.

“I just didn’t realize it until losing you felt like forgetting how to breathe.”

He didn’t cry.

But he looked like he might.

“I’m tired,” he whispered. “Of pretending I don’t want this.”

“Then don’t.”

A beat.

“I love you,” you said.

Again.

Because you meant it.

He didn’t answer right away.

But he reached for your hand.

Held it like something sacred.

And that — for now — was enough.

Epilogue

MORNING

You wake up tangled in warmth.

It takes you a second to remember where you are — his hoodie still damp at the cuffs, the scent of rain still clinging to your hair.

But then your eyes adjust, and you see him.

Taehyun.

Curled up beside you on the couch, breathing deep and steady, one hand still clasped in yours.

You hadn’t meant to fall asleep there — just meant to talk, to be near him, to let your bodies rest from the storm of the past few weeks.

But you stayed.

And he stayed too.

That’s what matters.

“Hey,” he whispers when he notices you watching him.

His voice is gravel-soft, barely there.

“Hi,” you murmur, your thumb brushing over his knuckles.

There’s silence after that, but it’s not empty.

It’s peaceful.

It’s yours.

THE WORD

You’re making tea when it slips out.

You’re not thinking, just moving — pouring water, unwrapping a biscuit, humming to yourself in his too-big shirt — when he walks in and you say:

“Can you pass me that, babe?”

Silence.

You freeze.

Eyes wide.

He blinks.

Then—

He smiles.

A slow, heart-melting smile.

“Say that again.”

Your face burns. “No.”

“Please.”

You groan.

He leans against the counter. “One more time. Just for science.”

You throw a biscuit at his chest.

He catches it.

Still grinning.

Still glowing.

TXT CHAOS

You all meet at Soobin’s later that day.

There’s yelling.

From Beomgyu: “I TOLD YOU. I TOLD YOU IT WASN’T JUST FRIENDSHIP.”

From Hueningkai: “You guys kissed in the rain? That’s like... illegal levels of romantic.”

From Taehyun: “Please shut up.”

From Soobin: “Honestly I’m just glad this isn’t another one of Beomgyu’s conspiracy theories.”

From you: “Wait, what were his other theories?”

“Don’t ask,” Taehyun mutters.

Too late.

They tell you anyway.

It’s chaos.

It’s home.

EUNCHAE’S VICTORY LAP

She takes you out for cake that night.

She doesn’t even say I told you so.

She just slides a cupcake in front of you and says, “I knew he loved you when he let you eat his last mozzarella stick.”

You blink.

“What.”

“Love is mozzarella-based. Everyone knows that.”

You laugh so hard you nearly fall off your chair.

HER FAMILY NEVER KNOWS

Except one person.

Eunchae smiles like the devil and says, “So are you ever going to tell your mother about this or is it just our little secret?”

You blink.

She shrugs. “I don't know how they didn't catch on really. The hoodie gave it away. Also the way you say his name like a prayer.”

You try to protest.

She just rolls her eyes.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she promises. “But I’m glad it’s him. You deserve the kind of love that doesn’t scare you.”

You nearly cry.

She pretends not to notice.

THE KISS IN PUBLIC

It’s small.

You’re waiting outside a convenience store. He’s standing beside you, hands in his pockets. You’re bickering over the stupidest thing — which of you last bought ice cream — when he just leans in and kisses you.

Soft.

Casual.

Public.

No pressure.

Just love.

You stare at him when he pulls back.

He shrugs. “You looked kissable.”

You grab his face and kiss him again.

Longer this time.

Because you can.

THE FINAL SCENE

It’s late.

You’re both curled up on his bed, half-under a blanket, your head on his chest, one of his arms lazily draped across your back.

He’s wearing your hoodie.

You’re wearing his T-shirt.

And nothing hurts.

“I never thought I’d get this,” you whisper.

He strokes your back, slow and steady.

“This was always yours,” he says. “You just had to take it.”

You lift your head.

Look at him.

And this time — no fear, no hiding, no doubt — you say it again:

“I love you.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners.

“I know,” he says softly.

Then, pulling you in:

“I love you more.”

You kiss him.

He kisses you back.

And the story doesn’t end there —

It just begins.

End of As If You're Mine

[lovesickchoi]

🗂️ Love Language Files

───〃★ TXT Special Mini Series ✦ MDNI

5 boys. 5 love languages. 5 chances to be seen, touched, spoiled, praised, and taken care of from head to toe.

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ A short and steamy oneshot series inspired by TXT’s latest comeback Love Language, where each member shows you love in their own unforgettable way.

🔐 The Files:

✦ File 01 – Soobin: Quality Time

After a missed anniversary and weeks spent out of sync, Soobin just wants to be close to you again—really close. No rush, no performance. Just you, him, and the quiet reminder that you still belong to each other.

→ Word Count: 3.8k → Warnings: smut, f!reader, emotional intamacy, no protection, soft dom!soobin, sub!reader, cock warming, slight oral f!rec, praise, romance, no protection, finishing inside

✦ File 02 – Yeonjun: Words of Affirmation

Casual hookups transcend into more when Yeonjun can no longer keep his feelings at bay. With praise on his tongue and dirty words a testament of his devotion to you, he’s determined to show you what he’s been holding back.

→ Word Count: 2.4k → Warnings: f!reader, smut, dirty talk, praise, reassurance, a lot of dialogue, fwb to lovers, dry humping, no protection

✦ File 03 – Beomgyu: Gift Giving

Beomgyu remembers everything—the color you blushed at in the boutique window, the toy you joked about once. You didn’t expect to wear both tonight, or for him to use them while you’re stuck smiling at strangers. But he gives you what you want, and loves watching you unravel in return.

→ Word Count: 4.5k → Warnings: f!reader, smut, lingerie, use of toys, car sex, public teasing, exhibitionism, oral f!receiving, no protection

✦ File 04 – Taehyun: Acts of Service

He fixes, he folds, and he fucks like he’s determined to show you just how much he cares. You want nothing more than to return the favor, be the one who takes care of him for once. But Taehyun can't imagine not being of service to you.

→ Word Count: 3.3k → Warnings: f!reader, smut, domestic tension, switch but mostly dom!taehyun, kitchen sex, service kink, oral f!receiving, no protection

✦ File 05 – Hueningkai: Physical Touch

It’s been days since the fight, and you’ve barely touched him. Hueningkai’s been patient—gentle reminders, fleeting contact, anything to feel close again. But once you let him in, he makes sure you never pull away again.

→ Word Count: 2.5k → Warnings: smut, f!reader, dom!hueningkai, sub!reader, makeup sex, wall sex, riding, overstimulation, possession themes, begging, multiple orgasms

[doyouknowbtsswag]

Temptation|Taehyun AU|(Part 6)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

"Calm down I know a place to wash the mud off" He stood up holding his hand out for me to take.

"Oh, really where?" I said grabbing his hand.

"Secret" He smiled and held onto my hand leading me through the woods.

The forest started to get a hint of another it seemed, as if someone drew the slightest blue in the trees. I looked around at the blue butterflies hovering above and a few doves. Everything was perfect the deeper we went. I was too busy looking around that I didn't notice he stopped making me bump into him.

"What is this place?" I asked looking at him.

"Can't tell you it's a secret" He said looking at the water. "Here we are"

"Why is it a secret" I asked.

"Questions later" He simply said. "Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna get in?"

"Taehyun..."

"What?"

"I can't swim," I said rocking on my heels.

"Do you want me to teach you?"

"I don't know..."

"Just trust me I won't let you drown"

"Promise?"

"Promise"

I nodded slowly and took my shoes off as I watched him get in the water. He smiled and held his arms out.

"Come on I got you" He smiled.

"O-okay," I said slowly getting in and putting my foot in the water. I lost my balance as I fell in panicking. I thrashed around the water my eyes glued shut.

"It's okay it's okay I got you" I felt a pair of arms wrap around me.

"Oh my god," I said out of breath clinging onto him.

"I told you I got you" He said holding onto my waist still. "You want to learn still learn?"

I nod still shaken up about falling into the water. Taking deep breaths.

"Okay start by kicking your legs," He told me and I did as I was told. "Good now keep doing that"

"Like this?" I asked.

"Exactly like that" His grip on me loosens and I quickly look at him. "It's okay I won't let you drown" He gave me a reassuring smile.

"O-okay," I said as I kept kicking in the water.

"I'm gonna let you go now," He said. "I'll be right here"

"Wait-" He let go and I panicked but calmed down noticing I was staying afloat.

"You can do this to move" Taehyun paddled moving his arms circling around me. "Or you can just lay on your back enjoying the sun"

"Show off" I rolled my eyes.

"You'll be able to do it in no time it's natural in a way," He said and swam closer.

"Crap, it's getting dark" I looked up at the sky.

"Well your clothes still have mud on them"

"I know but I'll get in trouble"

"Stay it's worth it trust me" He smiled.

"I'm not walking home at night"

"I'll walk you," He said now pleading. "Please?"

"Fine" I sigh looking at him. "What's so important?"

"Just wait and see" He smiles.

"What does that mean?" I asked as it became darker but he ignored me.

"Here they come" He smiled turning around.

I looked at him confused and did my best to look behind me. I gasped as I saw a bunch of blue butterflies come our way. They were shining in the night sky. The water turned blue as each butterfly entered. I watched in awe as the trees around us turned a pretty blue Taehyun looked at me and smiled softly his hair turning into a soft blue. My eyes widened at the sudden change which made him chuckle.

"What does the color not fit me?" His smile made my heart pound.

"N-no it's perfect on you I-I just didn't expect it to change color" I stuttered doing my best to swim farther away startled.

"Well I'm glad you like it" He sighed. "You don't have to be scared of me you know?"

"W-what?"

"I can tell you are I would be too but I can explain," He said.

"I'm a sort of fairy you could say, I wouldn't call it that but I don't know what to call it" He looked around. "I didn't necessarily know how to tell you since it's a silly thing to believe in all honesty I was too scared to tell you."

"Why?" I asked quietly.

"Well," He swam closer to me grabbing my hands which made me blush. "How do I put this?"

"Put what"

"I" He gripped my hand clearly nervous. "I like you"

"What?" I looked at him shocked.

"I know we haven't known each other for a while but I like you more than friends and I was scared to tell you because I didn't want you to stop coming back. Every day I'm scared you won't come back and I'll be lonely again."He looked at me in the eyes blushing.

"I-I like you too" I smiled as he pulled me into a hug my heart pounding the whole time.

"Promise you you'll always come back?" He said.

"I promise" I smiled.

"Do you really have to go back now?"

"I think I'll stay out late tonight"

"Thank you" He smiled.

"I do think the blue fits you"

"It naturally changes"

"Why's that?"

"You're asking the wrong person" He chuckled. "Hey wanna see what the water looks like now?"

"Taehyun I can't hold my breath for that long"

"Says who?" He smiled grabbing my hand.

"My body"

"Not this second" He dunked his head under water bringing me down with him.

"Taehyun let go!" I tried letting go of his hand but he gripped it tighter.

"You're fine as long as you hold my hand," He said. "You can open your eyes it won't sting"

"Wha-" I cut myself off feeling myself breathing and taking underwater. I opened my eyes and looked around. The butterflies surrounded us making me smile.

"They are an old type of butterflies that people think are just mythical creatures but they are real"

"And pretty" I smiled.

"Yeah," He smiled as well. "Let's head up"

"Already?" This time it was me whining.

"Yes already they need sleep" He hinted at the creatures.

"Alright..."

"We can always come back," He said and he started to swim up to the surface. I noticed the hand we were holding was bright and a hint of purple. "Alright let me walk you home"

"Alright," I said. I looked back at the lit-up area one last time before following him. "This is annoying"

"What is?" He said his hair starting to turn pink again.

"My clothes are wet along with my shoes"

"Stay still," He said.

"Okay?"

He tapped my shoes twice and the top of my head three times. I watched him raising my eyebrow. He grabbed my hand putting a red berry in my hand. He mumbled something as his hand turned a similar purple as before. A sudden rush of air surrounded me which made me close my eyes.

"Alright you can move now," He said.

I opened my eyes and saw my overdress went from tan with a white undershirt to a red dress over a white undershirt. I looked down at my shoes that were the same and my hair was down rather than pulled back. My whole body was dry as well. I opened my palm and saw that the berry in my hand had gone missing.

"Do you like it?" He asked.

"Y-yeah" I smiled twirling around.

"Red suits you" He smiled holding up a lantern.

"Thanks" I blushed.

"Now let's get you home" He smiled softly.

[strrykais]

kisses to my exes ☘︎

nothing wrong with giving a review on twitter about your experience with your exes. some bad, some great. it’s all in good fun!

kai's note : first txt work!!! i hope you enjoy!

back to library

© strrykais

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