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magicshopaholic · 2 years ago

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Lmao okay you know when I told you I was going to respond to every single bullet because each one made me choke on my coffee just a little? Well here goes

Mkay the way it starts with her having a backstage pass to a bts concert?? I’m jealous - This was the most self-indulgent part of any story I have ever written in my whole life 🥲

Not tae being a sappy baby gosh, if only he’d stayed that way - Aafsdfhsdkfh you're gonna regret saying that when the sap returns

Love the way they didn’t get it easy just bc it was love at first sight. Long distance relationship that consists of mostly texts and calls ARE hard and you portrayed that well!! But Dilara definitely could have answered tae’s good luck text with more than just an emoji lmao - Awkwardness of a transatlantic one-night stand 🤷‍♀️

Rip alex turner lmao (also all I could think of was age gap when I read this first haha) - Oh yeah this would've been a big one

Honestly, “your concept is too overwhelming for me” is an incredibly powerful way to break up with someone HAHA - Hey you never know how artists think, this totally felt like something the guy who wrote She looks as if she’s blowing a kiss at me / and suddenly the sky is a scissor / sitting on the floor with a tambourine / crushing up a bundle of love would say

Taehyung during that concert was a vision and damn I think I might be in love - RIGHT??? This exact concert was my inspiration for this whole fic

Not the lockscreen’s picture I’ll cry - Sappiest sap of all time

The fact that he doesn’t know they got her backstage passes I’m dead - Obviously they thought he couldn't be trusted to process such information

Not tae having a fake account to follow her career - With a pfp and fake feed and everything, commenting single hearts on all her posts

Oop, fucking in a dark staircase mmmmh - lmao no comment

NO WHY IS SHE LEAVING SO SOON - They are the most dramatic couple that's why

Am I the only one that feels like her hiding Alex Turner form tae is a red flag? - obviously secrets are not a first for them 🚩

Lmao not tae being afraid of being caught vaping while jk literally had his vape out for everyone to see in that live HAHA - Haha I imagine Tae would stop giving a shit eventually too (although he's trying to quit now!)

I didn’t know green apple cigarette was a thing - It is in my country at least because I used to smoke it

Exhibitionism kink for the win - Whenever, wherever

Tae is a dirty lil hoe and I’m all here for it - This may be the entire fandom's one common headcanon

NOT HER SINGING MAKE IT RIGHT BEFORE SUCKING HIS DICK LMAO - I HAVE TO HAVE BEEN HIGH WHEN I WROTE THIS BC WTF

Why are Jimin and Jungkook interrupting bruh - BTS interruption line

“Jungkook tagging along for reasons best known to himself” MMMMMMMMMMMH you are contributing to the agenda of Jungkook having a crush on Dilara a lot ma’am - nO COMMENT

Jungkook having separation anxiety from tae is canon - Damn this was such a thing back when I wrote this

“Daniel Ricciardo, a handsome fellow driver” HAHAHA DAMN RIGHT - where is the lie

Why wouldn’t she want to be his gf BRUH - D to the R to the AMA

People getting jealous bc of jimin is peak jimin behaviour and I will not explain why - And this can work in any combination and any direction, the man gives off slut energy without even trying

WHY IS HE FREEZING BC SHE SAID I LOVE YOU - tbh I think he would have assumed she didn't feel that way anymore

Oh no he knows about alex turner - :(((

“I wondered why you’d stopped responding” don’t touch me while I cry (also foreshadow much???????) - Unintentional but man does it work

Ofc he’s loved her every day :’’’’’’’’’) - Every damn day 😭

KEEP THE BANDANA GIRLIE - She returned it to him when she sent him his stuff but she would've stolen it back 100%

Gosh that last line/text - :')))

Why did he have to fuck everything up - why indeed

I’m - yes

Gosh - this

I missed these idiots - me toooooooo

This review made me realise how long ago I wrote this :') Whatta hoot this review was <3

Los Angeles (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: Eight months after a magical weekend with Kim Taehyung, after which you never thought you'd see him again, you find yourself reunited with him for one more night.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst

Word count: 14.2 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, separation, implications of heartbreak, jealousy, heavy making out, nipple play, fingering, oral sex, blowjobs, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slightly dominant behaviour during sex

Listen to: "goodnight bad morning" by the kills

taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

“Can I check your bag, please?”

You handed it over and took it back with a smile, slipping your arms through the straps and letting it rest on your back as you made your way into the arena, immediately scanning the crowd for Lily. It was last minute, inviting Lily along; but it was the one advantage of being in California - and, of course, having an extra ticket since the band sent you their own.

Your heart skipped a familiar beat at the thought, the backstage pass in your bag feeling like the magic key that would allow you to see him again, in the flesh. If he wanted to see you, that is.

A few months ago, it wouldn’t have even been a doubt in your mind. When you’d left Japan in October, it had been in a state of heartbreak and regret, and the following few days hadn’t been much better. You’d stayed in the black hoodie he’d asked you to keep the whole time, his ring hanging around your neck, listening to The Shins and Norah Jones on a loop, feeling your heart sink at random moments when you’d remember all of a sudden that you’d never see Taehyung again.

You had no way of knowing for sure, but you were reasonably certain that he was going through a tough time, too. Jimin had done a Vlive a couple days after Japan and Taehyung had appeared on camera for a few minutes, looking morose and not talking too much, eventually walking off without saying goodbye - which was when you noticed that he was in a familiar grey hoodie that only two people in the world owned as drivers for Red Bull Racing Honda - one of them being you. He’d also posted a picture on Weverse with the caption “goodbye, i’ll miss you”; to anyone else, it might have just looked like a nice scenery somewhere in the Japanese countryside, but you recognised it immediately as the dog farm he’d taken you to on what you privately counted as your first - and only - date.

You two weren’t stupid, though. Very aware that you lived in a world which had the magic of the internet and phones, you’d started off keeping in touch, texting and occasionally calling whenever you got a chance. But it hadn’t worked out too well, for many reasons. Firstly, BTS was on tour. Even as you followed them online and saw clips and interviews from the fan accounts you followed, it was clear that they had neither the time nor the energy to focus on a single thing more. Secondly, you yourself were nearing the end of the Formula One season and Red Bull, true to form, hadn’t yet made a decision regarding the renewal of your contract for the next year. You had made it onto the podium (second place) in the Japanese Grand Prix, the last time you’d seen Taehyung, which had definitely gotten you a lot closer to a contract, but the focus you’d had to put in in the following races - Russia, Mexico, Brazil, USA - had been insane until you’d finally been resigned just before the last race in Abu Dhabi.

But the real issue, at least as far as you could tell, was that you two just hadn’t got enough time together in Japan to define what you were at all. You’d both said some pretty heavy shit to each other - and while you’d meant it all, it was hard to reconcile that storybook weekend with just texts back and forth, especially when they started becoming more and more infrequent over time.

You had called him on his birthday, not knowing it was the last phone call you’d have. After multiple failed attempts at video calls and normal voice calls, you’d finally settled for just texting him a happy birthday, telling him you missed him and that you hoped he’d have an amazing year ahead. Taehyung hadn’t responded until the next day with a “thanks” and a heart emoji. You’d tried not to feel hurt by it; he probably had a concert or an actual birthday party he was at and after all, it was only a matter of time before their real lives took over your fantasy weekend romance.

January had gone by in a haze of missing each other’s calls and texts while he was in the US and you were in the factory, helping your team develop the car for the new season, and by February, your focus was geared towards testing the car. In March, the new season started. The day of the opening race in Australia, you’d received a text from Taehyung, wishing you good luck for the first race. Your heart had skipped a beat; he’d wished you religiously for every remaining race last year and it felt nice that he remembered that you were still racing. You hadn’t seen it until after the race had ended and you’d landed back in London, though; by then, it was too late to respond with anything more than a singular emoji, making it the last communication you’d shared.

You didn’t know if your feelings for him had really gone anywhere, but they certainly took a backseat after a while, if for no other reason than the fact that it hurt too much to keep missing him. You’d finally confided in Lexie, your closest friend and trainer, sometime in January, when the realisation that you would eventually become strangers started to overwhelm you. She hadn’t been too surprised, but by the time the season started, Lexie had started dropping hints about how you should start moving on, either by making racing your sole focus or by something you hadn’t really considered till then: dating.

In April, you met Alex Turner. He and the rest of the Arctic Monkeys had been at the Monaco Grand Prix, the oldest and most famous race of the year, home to every celebrity under the sun, to perform at the Amber Lounge Fashion Show the day before, and you’d first made eye contact when you’d walked down the runway and he’d crooned Take it easy for a little while right to you, a moment that had gone viral in the F1 community for about ten minutes. You’d partied on Sunday night after the race and, hopped up on a reasonable number of drinks and naturally attracted to how mysterious and sexy he was, you’d hooked up in an empty cabin on the boat.

You’d dated very briefly after that, mostly because you were both single and based out of London. Alex called you his muse, photographing you while you lay around on his couch and penning random lyrics about how a fast car had swept him away and whatnot. You, on the other hand, with your apparent weakness for dark and brooding musicians, knew instantly what you were trying to do and whom you were trying to replace - and how miserably you were failing. You hadn’t realised you were failing until a few weeks in, when you’d woken up in his bed one morning and, expecting to see Taehyung’s face, had felt your heart sink when you’d seen Alex’s instead.

You’d broken up with him before breakfast, a conversation that had turned unexpectedly mutual when Alex had claimed that your “concept” had been too “overwhelming” for him, while you chose to stick to more straightforward reasons and told him flat out that your career was too demanding for a relationship. You’d stood in the kitchen in silence, the mutual relief in the air obvious to any sentient individual, before he’d pulled yu in and kissed you goodbye. You’d suspected he wanted it to be a passionate farewell that he could probably write a song about, but in the haze of the previous night’s liquor and this morning’s freedom, you’d ended up fucking on his dining table before you left his apartment for the last time.

Your decision to come to this concert had been a tough one. On the one hand, it was a BTS concert - enough said. On the other, you didn’t know where you and Taheyung stood and while you could very well go to the concert and leave without anyone being the wiser, this could be your one chance to get closure - whichever way it went. Not knowing meant you were unable to move on, though, so despite how big of a risk this was, you knew you had to take it.

The next question was how to actually meet him. Calling and informing anyone in the band was out of the question; the only thing you wanted less than finding out you were over was making Taehyung feel obligated to invite you backstage. It could make you seem like a girl who couldn’t get over an ancient fling or a fan looking for clout, and you frankly couldn’t pick which was worse.

Finally, after ages of overthinking, you decided to post an Instagram story with Lily, taken in front of The Radisson where you were staying, captioning it “Los Angeles represent with this hot local” with a song from one of their older albums as the soundtrack. It was as subtle as you could make it; if any of the band members still remembered you, they’d see it on your Instagram. You knew for a fact that at least Namjoon, Hoseok and Jungkook had private accounts - if even one of them saw, you’d get your answer.

When you’d returned to your hotel after lunch the day before the concert and the receptionist had handed you an official-looking envelope, your stomach had squirmed in anticipation and excitement. As hoped, it consisted of two tickets and a backstage pass to the concert, along with a note saying “Hope to see you there! - BTS”. While it hadn’t escaped your notice that it was signed by the entire band, you were glad that the envelope had arrived at all.

Lily was your obvious choice for the concert; ever since she’d started dating Alex Albon, a fellow F1 driver, you’d both hit it off and made sure to hang out every time she came to support him at a race. Had Lexie been here, it would unquestionably have been her, but you were somewhat glad it wasn’t, especially since there was only one backstage pass which would be a lot harder to explain away to Lexie, as well as the fact that Lexie was sure to ask a ton of insightful questions, none of which you felt you had the answers to.

You’d spent all of last night in a haze of anxiety and excitement, even going so far as to reconsider going at all. There was no way, of course; at the very least, you knew Lily wouldn’t allow you to miss the concert. Now, you searched for her, constantly checking your phone for any update on her location.

When you finally found Lily, it was less than five minutes before the band came on stage. The show passed in a blur of energy and colour. Halfway through, you realised that no matter what happened between you and Taehyung tonight, attending the concert was more than worth it. When you saw him walk onto the stage for the first time, your heart stopped. It was proof, whole and conclusive proof, that he did indeed exist, that he wasn’t a dream. It was also a vaguely sinking feeling when you saw him gaze at the crowd and perform his heart out, that it wasn’t at all unreasonable to presume that you were well and truly in the past for him.

You tried to enjoy seeing him in the flesh as much as you could, though. He was in black joggers, a black t-shirt and a black unzipped hoodie, a black and white bandana around his forehead. His hair was slightly shorter and straighter than the long and voluminous perm that it was in Japan, but he looked so incredibly sexy that it didn’t even matter. When he sang his verse of Mikrokosmos and appeared on the screen, eyes full of emotion as he looked out at the crowd, you realised with an unexpected sadness that even if it ended today, this was the best last memory you could have of Taehyung.

At some point, he looked to his left and smiled at Jimin with his glorious, boxy smile, hair falling effortlessly on his bandana and onto his forehead. You’d run your hands through that hair, you remembered. Pulled at it, brushed it out of his eyes. You’d kissed those lips, hugged those shoulders, held those hands the last time you’d seen him, when he’d told you he loved you. I know it doesn’t make sense but I really do, he’d said, lips at your hair, arms around your waist. You felt a pang in your chest at the thought that it might not mean as much to him anymore.

When the concert ended, you said goodbye to Lily and hung back for a bit before heading to the building behind the stage, flashing your backstage pass at the bouncer. He looked at your pass, glanced at your face, and led you to the side, into a dark corner that looked more like a storage space than anything. You were just starting to get creeped out when you finally saw a familiar face.

“Hey, you came!” Namjoon, tall and winded, appeared from one of the corridors and immediately hugged you. You were glad it was just him; during the short weekend in Japan, the only other members of the band you interacted with at length were him and Jungkook. “It’s so good to see you. Taehyung’s going to lose it when he sees you,” he added, chortling, as he motioned for you to follow him.

Taehyung. You sighed and stopped in your tracks, knowing you had to ask. You were both in a corridor now, about to climb a small flight of stairs to a door that you could only presume eventually led to their green room. Namjoon stopped as well, frowning. “Everything alright?”

“Is this -” You bit your lip, your heart beating faster now. “Is this a bad idea? Tell me honestly. I mean, it’s been - what - eight months since I last saw him? Does he, you know… does he even remember me?” Does he even care?

For all his intelligence, Kim Namjoon looked highly confused, as though he was still processing the question. “Who? Taehyung?” When you nodded, slowly and incredulously, he froze - but not as though he was in shock. More like something in his brain stopped working. “Well, I mean… I’m not in his mind, but I think... I think he could get electroshock therapy and still not forget you,” he said kindly before straightening his face. “Seriously, he hasn’t been the same since Japan. Do you really think he - I mean, as far as I know, you’re still his phone’s lockscreen.”

You were sure the last part was an exaggeration, but your heart leapt all the same. “Are you sure?” you pressed, mostly because you thought you knew what Namjoon looked like when he was confident, and this wasn’t it. “Did he send me the backstage pass or was it all of you?”

“Um…” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Okay, so technically, he doesn’t know you’re here. Jungkook saw your post on Instagram and I got the passes sent to your hotel. But we just wanted to surprise him, that’s all,” he added quickly, obviously seeing your eyes widen in shock.

“He doesn’t know? Oh, my God! What if - what if -” You couldn’t even speak, the number of worst case scenarios in your head suddenly skyrocketing. “Okay, this is a really bad idea. You know what, I can just leave right now and he never has to know, okay? Great concert, by the way,” you added hastily, already turning around to sprint the hell out of this place when Namjoon grabbed hold of your arm.

“Okay, come on,” he said calmly, like he was speaking to a child about to enter pre school for the first time. “Look, at least meet him. It would break his heart if he knew you were here and you still didn’t at least see him.”

“Why will he ever find out?”

“Well, I mean, he knows you’re here.”

Your eyes widened. “You just said he doesn’t know!”

“No, no, he doesn’t know you’re here backstage,” he corrected himself, waving his hands impatiently. “But he knows you’re in Los Angeles because he -” Namjoon broke off abruptly and sighed. “Okay, do not tell him I told you this, but… he created a fake Instagram account so he could follow your career. Like, literally, in the car on the way to the airport in Japan. He thinks we don’t know but we do.”

You were speechless for a few seconds. “But… if he knows I’m here then why didn’t he say anything?” you asked in a small voice.

“Well, because if I have to guess, he probably thought you forgot about him,” guessed Namjoon, clearly losing patience now.

You swallowed, staring at him. “What’s his username?” you asked finally.

“Taeovercoffee,” he said, without skipping a beat.

You could feel yourself wanting to smile, finally rolling your eyes. “Well, he’s wrong obviously,” you muttered, your heart fluttering and mind going back to Japan. But you were still anxious. Looking up at Namjoon, you tried to ask him, silently, if he really thought this was a good idea.

He sighed, chuckling in what you took to be mild disbelief. “Do you know that ever since Japan, he’s increased the number of English classes he’s taking to thrice a week? It’s the first time he’s ever done that. He’s taking as many classes as Jungkook now.”

You swallowed, pretending not to know what he was getting at. “Haven’t they all been learning since debut?”

“Exactly.”

Heart thumping hard, you finally nodded. “Not sure what that has to do with me, but… okay.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes with an unimpressed look at her, knowing he’d won. “Yeah, I’m sure you don’t. Can we go now?” When you exhaled and nodded again, he resumed walking. You followed him to the green room, where it was just Seokjin, Yoongi and Hoseok present, all still in their concert outfits, looking exhausted but exhilarated. They stood up when they saw you, though, greeting you like they knew you already, Hoseok even coming up to hug you.

You were still there a few minutes later, preferring to listen to them talk while you fretted about finally, finally meeting Taehyung. You worried about everything; your clothes (skirt overalls over a crop top and sneakers), your hair (shorter than Japan), what you would say. It was nerve wracking; you wanted him to hurry up but simultaneously take his time.

Finally, right when Namjoon and Jin were in the middle of discussing some hilarious mistake that no one in the audience seemed to have caught in Korean, Jin’s gaze shifted to something behind you, looking over the top of your head. You turned involuntarily, before you could fully guess what he was looking at, and it was like you’d gone back in time.

It was like a scene out of West Side Story; everything else blurred into the background and it was just Taehyung, tall and sweaty and sexy, looking at you with wide eyes as if you were a hallucination. He was still in his stage clothes, down to the black and white bandana, his black hair falling onto his forehead with graceful ease. You could just about make out Jimin and Jungkook on either side of him, but neither of them could steal your focus from him.

Your heart was racing and you realised you were holding your breath. You exhaled shakily and attempted a small smile. “Hi,” you managed, swallowing. When he didn’t reply, you panicked. “I’m sorry, I should’ve called but I didn’t want to -”

You barely registered his smile beginning to appear before he’d covered the distance to you in two strides and grabbed you into a gigantic hug, pulling you close and tight. You automatically wrapped your arms around his neck, momentarily forgetting you weren’t alone and burying your face in his shoulder as you heard him murmur into your hair, partly in English and partly in Korean.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered, arms so tight around you that you felt like your ribcage might break. “You’re here, you’re really here…” He switched to Korean, clearly unaware, but you didn’t care because you got it. You got it, and you were so relieved that you got it and he got it.

He set you down but didn’t let you go, pulling away just a bit. “How - how are you -” He broke off, sounding like he’d just run a marathon but Namjoon interrupted before you could respond.

“Um, I don’t mean to -” He grimaced, looking awkward as hell, “but the staff will get here soon.” He locked eyes with Taehyung, who nodded in understanding and grabbed your hand.

“Come on,” he said breathlessly, tugging on your hand, and you both hurried out of the room. You had no idea where you were going; you simply followed Taehyung. You finally reached a dimly lit stairwell where you halted to a stop and, almost like you could read each other’s minds, launched yourselves onto each other. Taehyung pushed you against the wall, hands firmly gripping your waist, and kissed you passionately, almost frantically. You kissed him back, hands running through his hair before they snaked down to the waistband of his joggers.

It was all very quick and heated and desperate. You palmed him through his joggers as his lips roamed your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone; you nipped at his lower lip while he pulled your underwear down and hitched you up, lining himself up at your soaking entrance and sliding in when you whispered your desires against his ear. You forgot everything else: where you were, why you were here, what you would do if you got caught. It was just you and Taehyung consummating everything you’d felt over the last eight months.

It was not what you’d imagined when you’d thought about this night but somehow this hot, frantic sex, all lips and tongue and teeth and incoherent moans, against a wall with Kim Taehyung, so long since you’d last seen him, seemed like exactly the kind of thing you ought to have expected.

When you were back on your feet and done cleaning up with tissues that your friend Chris insisted you carry everywhere, he walked back up to you. You were still leaning back against the wall, knees weak and panting slightly as you came back down from your orgasm, heart speeding up as he reached closer and closer to you. When he was finally standing before you, your chests touching, he brought his hands up to your face hesitantly, so unlike how he’d held you just a few minutes ago.

“You’re really here,” he murmured, his eyes wide with hope and wonder, almost as if he was afraid you were going to disappear. His hands slid down to your shoulders, your arms, your waist, and back up to your face. “It’s really you, you’re really here…”

You bit your lip and chuckled, knowing exactly how he felt. Your weekend in Japan had seemed like something out of a fantasy and you were somewhat glad to know that you weren’t the only one that felt overwhelmed by the reality of it all. You reached up and held onto his wrists, stroking the back of his hands with your thumbs, drinking in the sight of him. “I’m really here,” you confirmed softly.

Taehyung laughed weakly before lowering his head and kissing you, a full, deep, passionate kiss. You opened your mouth and let him in immediately, finally remembering what this felt like, what you’d tried to find with Alex but could never possibly compare to this. He was exactly like you remembered; how close he pulled you to him, how his tongue roamed your mouth, how his hair was so soft and so easy to grab, even if it was damp and sweaty after his concert.

You broke apart after a little while but didn’t pull away; Taehyung rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed. You wanted to close your eyes, too, and stay here forever but you knew you couldn’t, that you had to at least let him know what the situation was. “Tae,” you whispered.

He smiled, eyes still closed. “Dilara.”

Even as you smiled, you felt a small prickle in your eyes when you heard your name come out of his mouth with that Korean lilt, still sounding like the most melodious song he’d ever heard. You tilted your head up slightly and kissed him again before pulling away this time, leaning back against the wall. “Tae.”

He stood straight now and you finally registered how tall he was, your forehead just making it past his shoulder. His hands fell from your waist but he reached up to twirl a strand of your hair on your shoulder, looking down at you with a fond hint of a smile, as though nothing you could say could ruin this for him. When you took a deep breath, he raised his eyebrows in that playful, smirky way of his, asking you to continue.

“I, um…” You bit your lip and tugged on the bottom of his t-shirt, just to give your hands something to do. “I have a flight in the morning.”

Taehyung’s face fell just a bit. As you’d suspected, the end of your dalliance was not something he’d thought of yet. “Oh,” he said finally, eyes falling to the ground as his shoulders dropped. But then he raised his eyes to meet yours again. “Then we have tonight.”

True to form, just like the first night you met, Taehyung took you to the terrace of the building. He told you on the way that they’d recorded, practiced, rehearsed and performed, all in this very building. Apparently it’s where they spent the majority of their time whenever they were in Los Angeles. You preferred it, especially when you reached the top and the cool night breeze hit your face. Next to you, Taehyung sighed and closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair.

“Shit, you must be tired,” you said, suddenly feeling guilty. “Are you sure you don’t want to -”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he interrupted you, shaking his head and coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist. “I’ve been waiting for this for too long now,” he told you, kissing your cheek. “Plus, we’re alone…”

You giggled, turning around and happily obliging, kissing him as though you did it every day (wishing). He snickered, responding with feel and, you guessed, adrenaline from after the show, picking you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. It was so familiar; it still felt like young love, full of excitement and affection and heat. Finally, lips still on his, you reached behind him and tugged at his bandana, untying it, pulling away and hopping down.

Taehyung threw his head back and shook out his thick hair, joining you near where you sat down with your back against a low wall, in the perfect position to take in the view overlooking the entire city. “So,” he began, taking a seat in front of you against a low parapet, bending his knees and casually taking one of your hands in his, interlinking your fingers. “How are you?”

You tried to tell him everything; how the F1 season ended, the fact that you got re-signed for another two years, that your mum and Rudy celebrated fifteen years together. You skirted around the topic of Alex; you didn’t think you had anything to feel guilty about but at the same time, especially given how passionate your reunion with Taehyung had been, you felt yourself wanting to hide it for as long as possible. You both hadn’t even been \very big; except for a few F1 fan accounts on Instagram who themselves could only speculate, no one knew for certain, especially since you and Alex definitely never went public.

There was so much to catch up on that the conversation eventually moved to Taehyung, his tour, how disappointed he was to not be home for his birthday again but that the boys did their best to give him a great time anyway, how he was exploring dreams as a theme for writing music. Sometime during the conversation, you shifted where you were sitting on the floor and your foot hit your bag, knocking it over so its contents spilled out. Thankfully, it wasn’t much - except for one thing.

Taehyung paused before gingerly picking up the cigarette pack, face smooth and completely unreadable. You sighed, just like you did the first time Lexie, Chris and Fred each found out. “Okay, don’t judge me. I don’t smoke all that often; just when I’m stressed or…” Your gaze flickered up to him. “... anxious.”

“I vape,” he stated, looking up at you with that same impassive expression.

You raised your eyebrows, not expecting that. “You do?”

He nodded. “I don’t do it so often, though,” he echoed, the corner of his mouth lifting. “But… yeah. Not just you.”

“Guess we learned something new about each other tonight,” you said softly. “But, you know. I have to hide it,” you added, gesturing to the smokes and the lighter. “The F1 community will not take well to a driver smoking, especially in this day and age.”

Taehyung nodded. “I get it. If I ever get photographed with a vape…” He didn’t even finish his sentence, but he may as well have. K-pop idols were held to such a standard of perfection that if it ever came out that V of BTS was vaping, he would be crucified.

“I can keep a secret,” you told him, holding out your pinky. He looped his own around it and tugged, pulling you onto his lap so you straddled him. There was a shift in the air; there was something so hot and intimate about sharing a sordid secret like this with him, a vice you both had, a weakness that couldn’t get out to the world - except to each other.

Almost to test him, you pulled out a thin, long cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag and only breaking eye contact when you tilted your head up towards the sky and let out a breath of silvery smoke. When you looked back down at him, there was darkness in his eyes, his cheekbones looking sharper than ever, his tongue slowly licking his lips. Wordlessly, you pointed the mouth of the cigarette towards him, watching as he leaned forward and took a long drag, blowing the smoke forward but to your side.

He frowned slightly. “Is that... green apple?”

You smiled in confirmation. “My favourite.” You took another drag and this time when you turned your head to blow out the smoke, he stopped you. His hand came up to your face to keep it steady and he tilted his chin up slightly, keeping it level with your face. Still not looking away from him, you slowly blew the smoke out, right into his mouth, just as he pulled your face closer and kissed you.

It was different from all the other times you’d kissed tonight. He opened his mouth and your tongues met immediately. It was slow, sensual, with deep breathing and sighs into each other's mouths. The cigarette fell forgotten as your hands went up his chest, gripping his t-shirt and feeling his hard, lean chest under your hands before they went up to his head and you ran your fingers through his soft, thick hair.

You moaned softly without meaning to; you’d missed this, him, so much. You felt his joggers twitch at the sound and rolled your hips forward, grabbing at a clump of his hair. Taehyung moved his lips down to your jaw and to your neck, leaving slow, open-mouthed kisses to your skin. His hands moved up your bare waist and up your crop top; hesitating for a moment, he ran his left thumb across your nipple through your bra.

“Shit,” you whispered, feeling your core throb. His other hand moved lower down your body and lingered on the inside of your thigh, pausing there. Eyes still closed and still biting your lip in an effort to not moan out loud, you frowned. You relaxed a bit when you felt his hand move slightly higher up but when it was less than an inch away from your core, he stopped again. Frustrated, you pulled at his hair, trying to get him to go further.

He grunted momentarily and then, to your horror, you heard him snicker against your skin, low and deep. He moved his mouth up your neck and bit at your earlobe, teasing you. You jerked away and pushed him back by his shoulders, glaring down at him. Taehyung looked up at you with that same knowing smirk, raising his eyebrows slightly and even though he wasn’t saying anything, you could practically hear him saying Beg for it - especially since it wouldn’t quite be the first time he was saying it, not in so many words.

The hand that was up your top snaked down and grabbed your arse, pulling you towards him. “Something wrong?” he asked, his fingers now touching your underwear. His smile widened slightly and you knew he’d felt how wet you were.

You sighed, your eyes fluttering shut momentarily. “Tae, come on,” you whined softly, gripping the shoulder of his hoodie in your fist. “Make me feel good, baby,” you murmured, lowering your head slightly and kissing him, your lips lingering on his. “Or not,” you said after a moment, backing up a bit. “We are in public after all.”

The smirk dimmed slightly but his jaw hardened. It felt like a switch somewhere had been turned on, making his eyes darken. “I know,” he said at last.

So Kim Taehyung had an exhibitionist kink. Or some bit of it, at least, as much as his career would allow. You felt a smirk forming on your own face when your mind suddenly ran through all the scenarios you could use this information in. For now, it made you so hot that it was a wonder you hadn’t come already.

You reached behind you and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, slowly bringing it up the side of your torso and back under your top. He pinched your nipple softly, covered with nothing but lace (a good decision, you reflected mildly), smirking and biting his lip when he felt it erect in the cool wind. He pressed his thumb over your clothed clit and you stifled a whimper, so ridiculously wet for him.

You could tell Taehyung was enjoying this, the silence, the risk, the build-up, the control. He was looking up at you with half-lidded eyes underneath dark eyebrows, lips slightly parted and curling back over his teeth. Not breaking eye contact, you raised your hands and pulled down the straps of your overalls, shrugging out of them and leaving you in just a mint green crop top that stopped just below your breasts.

“Stop teasing me, baby,” he murmured, lifting your top carefully with his left hand and pulling the lace cup down, exposing your breast to the cool wind. You shivered and he chuckled quietly, and you knew that while you were egging him on, if anyone was really getting teased here, it was you. He brushed his thumb over your hard nipple again before reaching forward and taking it into his mouth.

You couldn’t pretend any longer. “Fuck, Tae,” you whispered, your back arching and hand going up to grab his hair and keep his head in place. You reached for the hand that was up your skirt, tantalizingly close to your core but frustratingly out of reach, and pressed his palm to your wetness. He squeezed it once before letting it go, making you stifle another whine of annoyance, swirling his tongue around your nipple and sucking at it until you found yourself begging for more.

Taehyung finally pushed your underwear aside and dipped two fingers in you, his thumb going straight for your clit when you heard a sound behind you somewhere in the building and pulled at his hair slightly. “Baby,” you managed breathlessly, already feeling close, “we’re going to get caught.”

His response was to silently speed up his fingers, softly groaning at the sight of how turned on you were. Despite how close you were to coming undone, you knew you’d said the right thing - mostly because you’d said it on purpose. You reached down to feel the pulsating bulge in his joggers and you knew you were right, palming him without warning. He grunted and immediately grabbed your wrist, pushing it away.

“Uh-uh,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “This is about you. So whoever’s going to catch us can see you come all over my hand, baby, come on,” he purred, the Korean lilt making your toes curl, kissing your jaw and moving down your neck as his fingers moved faster, his other hand dropping your wrist and grabbing your arse to keep you steady.

“Tae, I’m gonna - oh, God, I’m coming - “ With a stifled cry against his shoulder, you felt the familiar explosion of heat come in waves, panting as his fingers slowed down and let you ride out your high, finally pulling out of you when you were done. When you opened your eyes and looked down at him, he was looking back at you with a mixture of arousal and fondness, his hands resting on the tops of your thighs.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, voice deep and loving, the sharp and sexy tone disappearing instantly. He ran his hands up your bare torso and linked his fingers around your waist and tugged you closer to him. You felt your face heat up with the way he was looking at you so you leaned forward and rested against his chest, your cheek against his shoulder and your forehead brushing his neck.

Taehyung hummed in approval of this new position and his arms tightened around you as he sat back against the wall. You sat in comfortable, intimate silence for a bit; you ran your finger along his chest in random shapes and he tapped his slender fingers softly on your back in random rhythms, making goosebumps erupt on your skin, occasionally fingering the ends of your hair. You tilted your head up slightly and inhaled as subtly as you could; he smelled of lotion, something vaguely flowery, and cologne and sweat, and you never wanted to forget it.

“Did you say something in Korean?” you asked after a couple of minutes, pulling away slightly and looking up, ignoring his low whine at the loss of contact. “When we were…”

He raised his eyebrows for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I think so. Got a bit, uh… carried away, I think,” he added, a bit sheepishly.

“No, I - I liked it,” you admitted, shrugging self-consciously. “You sounded… sexy.”

He grinned. “Yeah? I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”

It felt like you hadn’t seen this smile in ages, which you hadn’t. Not in person, anyway. You grabbed the front of his t-shirt in a loose fist and tugged. “I missed you, too,” you said after a moment, before kissing him. He responded, taking it slow and deep, opening his mouth to let your tongue in. You snaked your hand down his torso again and reached for his erection, slowly massaging it as you kissed him. This time, he let out a soft groan into your mouth but didn’t push you away; instead he nipped at your lower lip and his hips buckled just a little bit into your hand when you heard the sound again, like a door swinging shut.

You pulled away immediately and whipped around. “What was that?”

“Probably someone who can catch us,” replied Taehyung nonchalantly, reaching up to press a kiss to your exposed neck but you pushed him back.

“Tae, seriously.” You clambered off his lap, ignoring his protests, and craned your neck towards the door that led them to the terrace before turning back to him. “Can you go check? Please? You have more of a right to be here than I do.”

“But -” The relaxed arousal on his face was replaced with mild annoyance, a frown on his forehead until he rolled his eyes and got to his feet, walking away and disappearing for a couple of seconds. “Nothing,” came his deep voice, a note of irritation audible.

You stifled a chuckle, still on the ground when he walked back and gave you a look. “Fine, you were right,” you told him, grabbing his hand and making him pause where he was presumably about to sit down in his old spot. “I can make it better,” you added, adjusting yourself so you were on both your knees before him and looking up.

He raised his eyebrows. “With one of our songs? And not even a sexy one?”

“It’s been stuck in my head since the concert.” You shrugged sheepishly, reaching up to palm his slightly softer erection again. “I can make it sexy, too. You know… I can make it better...” you repeated, massaging him now, “... I can hold you tighter…” You pulled his joggers down so he was just in his boxers, his full erection now coming free, making him sigh, “... I can make it right,” you finished, your voice dropping to a murmur as you stroked your hand up his boxers and gripped his length.

Taehyung swore softly, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. When you started pulling his boxers down, though, his eyes snapped open. “Baby, you don’t have to - “

“I want to,” you said immediately. When he didn’t respond, you gave him a look. “Tae. Come on, it’s not like it’s the first time.”

A smile started spreading across his face, presumably at the memory. “No… no, it’s not,” he agreed. “I just… I get a bit carried away,” he admitted after a moment. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

For some reason, that made your stomach do a backflip. “You won’t.” You slowly ran your hands across his length again, watching as he shivered. “I want to make you feel good, too,” you implored, looking innocently up at him and licking your lips.

You could tell by how his breath was getting shakier that you were wearing him down. “You’ll tell me? If it’s too much?” he asked. When you nodded obediently, he observed you for a moment, face going back to the smooth, impassive one you’d seen for the first time in the flesh, all the back in Suzuka. “Go on, then.” When you ran a single fingertip down his length, he sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. “Suck me…”

You reached forward and took his tip in your mouth in answer. He swore throatily again, and despite your very recent orgasm, you could feel yourself getting aroused again at how deep his voice was. It was a different feeling, being the one to make him look so helpless, so aroused, so close to coming undone. It felt right, somehow. You should be the only one to make him feel like this, you thought, as his tip hit the back of your throat and he groaned your name out loud. Dilara… You moved your hand lower to his balls and he groaned again, higher pitched and his knees buckling slightly.

One of his hands was flat on the wall, supporting him, while the other came up to your hair and he grabbed it, hard. You whimpered involuntarily, gagging for a moment, and you knew he could feel it because he clutched it even harder as his hips buckled forward. You squeezed his thigh, letting him know he could let go, and started bobbing your head faster, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock.

“Oh, fuck, baby, I’m -” Taehyung’s voice was ragged and choked, and you could feel your jaw starting to hurt. “I’m gonna come, Dilara, I -” He broke off and groaned, and you felt his warm seed spurt on your tongue. You slowed down, pumping his length slowly until he was done before pulling away and swallowing without fuss, sitting back on your feet. You tossed your hair back and tried to make it lie flat while he pulled his boxers up, eyes still closed, looking completely fucked out.

You stood up and fixed your overalls before reaching up on the tips of your toes and kissing his cheek. Eyes still closed, he smiled breathlessly, his arms coming around you to hold you in place as he turned slightly and captured your lips in his. You wrapped your arms around his neck, reaching into his hair and running your nails along his scalp, hating that you couldn’t do this every day.

You were still very much in your own world, snogging lazily in the cool breeze of the terrace when you heard a sound followed by a different kind of groan. You jerked apart and you turned around to see Jimin and Jungkook, both holding paper bags, while Jimin had his face screwed up in exaggerated annoyance, turning away and muttering to Jungkook in Korean.

Jungkook slapped him on the shoulder, his own face red as he grinned apologetically, while Taehyung just rolled his eyes and seemingly admonished him before switching to English. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the bags.

“Are you hungry?” asked Jungkook, looking at both of them and pulling out boxes of fast food anyway, making your stomach rumble.

You could argue that in Japan, apart from Taehyung, you’d spent the most time with Jungkook and Namjoon - but even that hadn’t been a lot. You and Taehyung had been stranded in the Japanese countryside after the dog farm when the hotel car Taehyung had driven you in had broken down, and he’d predictably called Namjoon for help. Apparently a recent license-holder, the leader had driven over to rescue the two of you, Jungkook tagging along for reasons best known only to himself.

Apart from them, you had only run into Jimin once in the elevator when he’d winked knowingly at you before leaving you alone with Taehyung. Besides them, you hadn’t met any of the other members before the weekend had come to an end, so it was pleasantly surprising that the other two maknaes volunteered to bring you food on the terrace, especially when Jungkook walked over and hugged you just like Namjoon had, albeit a little less confidently.

As the night went on, however, it became less surprising. It was clear that they were both here out of sheer curiosity, and while the older members might have had the sense to give you both your privacy, these two had no such boundaries thus far at least. You found you didn’t mind too much, though; you weren’t the best at meeting tons of new people at once, so it was better that it happened one by one.

It was somewhat sweet how Jimin kept pushing more and more food in Taehyung’s direction as he spoke to you, the Korean accent slightly less pronounced in his words, while Jungkook seemed to have actively missed him for the last hour, talking to him in rapid Korean as though updating him on everything he’d missed the last couple of hours. They kept switching between English and Korean, and it was nice to see Taehyung so comfortable and happy that you couldn’t even find it in yourself to be annoyed that they’d interrupted your precious few hours with him.

Sometime later, when you were just reaching over to dip a french fry in ketchup, he nudged you gently. “I’m, uh… I’m sorry about this,” he said softly, sounding a bit nervous. You frowned and looked over at Jimin and Jungkook who were laughing and talking with each other.

“Oh, don’t be,” you said immediately, meaning it. “I like hanging out with them. Jimin’s my favourite, you know?” you added, winking.

“Oh, ha ha,” he said dryly. “But, no. I meant, I’m sorry for tonight.” You didn’t get it and he seemed to understand that, for he rubbed the back of his neck a bit self-consciously and shrugged. “I just… I always pictured the next time we met that I’d take you out on a real date. Not… stuck up here on a terrace hiding from fans and eating fast food.”

There was something happening in your chest and it was a few seconds before you realised it was your heart racing. You popped the fry in your mouth just to keep yourself from smiling too widely and shook your head. “That’s okay. And if it makes you feel any better, I would think we’re hiding from the paparazzi more than the fans - which I don’t mind at all. But, just out of curiosity,” you added, leaning back against the wall and looking up at him, “where would you have taken me?”

Taehyung pretended to think, leaning back against the wall as well, before listing down a bunch of ideas that included a go-kart track, a dark room in Seoul, a B&B in Connecticut, an art gallery in Sevilla, and a museum of penises in Belgium. It took you a moment to process all of it, but you had fun discussing how you thought those dates would go before you reminded him that he did take you on a date, the day after you first met.

“Oh, yeah, the dogs,” he remembered, smiling. “That was a really good day.”

“It was,” you agreed, nodding. “You even took some great pictures that day - there’s this one I put up on my Instagram a couple months ago… hold on, I’ll show you -”

“This one?”

You looked up to see him holding up his phone, a picture of you lying down on the grass, black hair wavy and spread out, laughing up at him while you cuddled a labrador. “Yeah,” you said slowly, surprised at how quickly he found it. You remembered what Namjoon said about a picture of you being his lockscreen and you wondered momentarily if it was this one.

“Yeah, I saw it. I liked the soundtrack to it, too,” he added cheekily, and you knew he was referring to Winter Bear being the song you chose.

You felt your cheeks heat up, thankful that your skin didn’t quite let you blush. “You saw it?” you asked warmly. You remembered putting it up; it had been just before his birthday and you’d been missing him a fair bit, but your dynamic by then had started dwindling down to the point where you couldn’t simply text him out of the blue. You’d been flipping through the handful of pictures you’d taken during your brief dalliance in Suzuka and when this one had come up, you’d felt an overwhelming sense of affection and sorrow, enough to publicly lament what could have been had things been different, if he wasn’t a world famous musician who was scrutinised by the public and you weren’t a world famous athlete who travelled to twenty countries for nine months out of the year.

“M-hm. I, uh…” He bit his lip, his cheeks darkening slightly, “I created a fake Instagram account. So that I could… follow you.” His eyes locked with yours and you wondered what he wanted to say before he settled on follow.

You bit your lip too, and chose not to reveal that Namjoon had already told you this. “Really? What’s it called? I’ll follow you back,” you told him, taking out your phone and clicking on the Instagram icon.

“From your public account? Sure that’s a good idea?”

“I have a Finsta, too, Tae.” You ended up following him from both accounts, especially since you used your Finsta fairly rarely, shared only with your closest friends. You both went through his account after that and he showed you the posts he’d put up, mostly artsy shots of rain and streets and his studio. You stopped when you spotted one familiar looking picture, though.

“Is that…” You zoomed in and frowned, leaning across his lap a bit. “Is that me?” The picture in question was of a shadowy figure on a bed, long wavy hair spilling over the pillow and sheets, turned away from the camera and facing the large wall-length window, back bare before it was cut off by a white blanket. The person - who you presumed was you - was right at the bottom of the picture, a dark shadow and taking up barely a quarter of the frame. The focus of the picture seemed to be the rising sun outside the window, glowing red and making the sky ripple. In fact, for a person scrolling through, they may not have even noticed there was a person in the picture at all.

Taehyung nodded, unabashed. “Yeah. Remember the morning I took off before you - before you woke up?”

You nodded, recalling how uneasy you’d felt when you’d thought he was done with you once you’d had sex the previous night. He’d disappeared when you’d awoken and made zero contact with you for the rest of the day, even when, as part of Honda’s sponsorship deal, BTS were in the Red Bull garage a good portion of the time. It had taken your car crashing into a wall for him to acknowledge you at all, and a moment of rehearsed closeness with Daniel Ricciardo, a handsome fellow driver, for him to truly reclaim your attention.

“Oh… yeah.”

“Yeah, well. This is what I saw when I woke up,” he said, pointing at the picture. “And it looked…” He trailed off, a slightly faraway look on his face, frowning as he tried to think of the word. “... like something someone would write a song about,” he said finally, looking back down at you.

Your response was on the tip of your tongue, but you were afraid it might ruin the mood… even though you wanted to know. “Then why did you leave?” you asked softly, failing to keep the hurt out of your voice anyway.

He chuckled quietly. “Because not everything is powerful enough to make me want to write about it,” he answered, dropping his gaze back to the picture. “But you were. And that worried me.”

You didn’t have to ask why. It had worried you, too, feeling the way you did, how strongly you did for a man yo barely knew. “So you sneaked out,” you stated in what you hoped was an understanding tone, “because it scared you.”

“It confused me,” he corrected. He raised his eyes to look back up at you, his gaze more intense than ever. “Until it didn’t.”

Once again, you didn’t have to ask what he was talking about, because you remembered. You remembered what had happened later that evening, what he’d confessed, what you’d confessed, how it had been the last time you’d both seen each other until tonight. It was also the last time you’d both ever said it to each other, and now you wondered, looking at Taehyung, if he still felt that way.

His ring felt cool against your ribs, tucked inside your top. It wasn’t something you’d thought about tonight at all, choosing instead to live in the moment. But you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been holding a candle for him this whole time, unable to forget him, unable to move on. You thought about the fake account he’d created, how he’d been keeping up with your career and your life. It suddenly occurred to you that he might know about Alex. But before you could say anything, Taehyung leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, only for a moment before Jimin cried out in annoyance again, exclaiming in Korean.

You pulled apart again, this time a bit embarrassed; in all honesty, you’d forgotten you weren’t alone. Taehyung chucked a fry at Jimin, who looked positively cherubic as he whined. “It’s not our fault you came up here,” said Taehyung shortly, in English.

“We came because we haven’t met Dilara in a long time,” said Jungkook reasonably, making your heart skip a beat at the sound of your name, “not so you could make out with your girlfriend where anyone could see you.”

Normally, you presumed you and Taehyung would both share a moment at the allusion to the new kink you’d discovered about each other, but there was something else that Jungkook said that made you freeze, suddenly unable to meet Taehyung’s gaze. You felt him stiffen next to you and you knew he’d caught it, too.

It was easy to forget sometimes that you and Taehyung barely knew each other - because it felt like you’d known each other forever. The intensity of your feelings was so strong since the first time you’d laid eyes on each other, getting only more so the next couple of days until you left Japan, that you both focused on nothing else until you were separated and finally forced to realise how undefined you were.

You knew you weren’t his girlfriend. You weren’t even sure you wanted to be; you simply didn’t know enough about each other to make that assessment. But all of a sudden, the thought of anyone else being called his girlfriend made you want to throw up.

You still couldn't meet Taehyung’s gaze and you could tell by the way he’d gone suspiciously quiet that he was just as awkward about this as you were. Fortunately, it seemed as though Jimin could read his mind, for he immediately scrambled up and dusted himself off. “There’s a pool table here,” he announced, fooling no one. “Anyone want to play?”

You didn't remember answering, but you found yourself getting pulled up by the hand anyway. Or maybe you stood up yourself; it was too hard to tell in the face of Jimin’s sparkling smile and angelic voice. Taehyung presumably stood up behind you and you all shuffled out of the terrace and into an adjoining room you hadn’t noticed before, where you and Jimin played against Taehyung and Jungkook.

You were glad for Jimin being here because the awkward tension disappeared instantly. You and Jimin were decent at pool, while Taehyung was terrible and Jungkook being Jungkook was amazing without ever having played before apparently, making the teams evenly divided. You were barely paying attention to the game, though; you were pleasantly surprised at how Jimin and Jungkook were deliberately making an effort to make you feel comfortable.

Jungkook sang dramatically every time it was his turn to shoot, while Taehyung, adorably frustrated at how bad he was, started sneakily knocking balls around and distracting everyone else. Jimin, bored after a few good shots, resumed the conversation you’d both been having outside about your friends and the work they did (choreographers). It was surprisingly easy to talk to him, enough that it was a while before you realised that you were both neglecting the game in favour of talking to each other, leaning against your cues and laughing every time you were pulled out of your conversation by either Taehyung or Jungkook who prodded you to play your turn.

It wasn’t until you caught sight of Taehyung’s face halfway through and spotted him turning away in what you could only identify as annoyance, that you wondered if he was annoyed at how you were monopolising his friend. In all honesty, you hadn’t even realised you were, but you supposed if how he was walking by both of you but deliberately ignoring you was any indication, he was definitely annoyed.

But it wasn’t even until he walked by both of you again, this time blatantly knocking the cue ball into another one so they both tumbled into the corner pocket, that you realised where you’d seen this particular expression of his. A million years ago, back in Suzuka, the day he’d been frustratingly keeping his distance from you, you’d brought out the big guns to test if he was truly over you. You’d roped in Daniel Ricciardo, a sexy, fun-loving, Australian beach boy who drove like a shark, making sure to pay him your full attention and laugh at all his jokes, until Daniel had finally called you princess, and Taehyung had snapped.

Danny hadn’t even meant anything by it; it was a media nickname given to you that most of the drivers used as a joke, but something in the way he’d said it at the evening buffet, with Taehyung standing less than five feet away from you, had hit a nerve. Taehyung had slammed his coffee cup on its saucer before stalking out of the lounge, the sound not dissimilar to that of the cue balls he’d just knocked over.

Jealousy becomes you, baby, you’d whispered into his ear not long after that incident, once he’d cornered you in your dressing room. You doubted he’d even heard you; he’d fingered you while making sure you kept eye contact with him the whole time, satisfied only when he watched you come undone because of him.

He’d told you he loved you less than an hour after.

Now, you turned around to see Taehyung sighing loudly before something suddenly seemed to fall in place for Jungkook, who immediately started to leave.

“No, no, we should go,” he said hurriedly to Jimin, who looked thoroughly confused at this abrupt plan. He looked over at you for support but you could only shrug, biting your lip and trying to suppress a smile, pretending not to notice how you felt Taehyung come up to stand behind you, towering over your smaller frame. As Jimin continued to protest, Taehyung walked over and held the door open, watching Jungkook pull him away as they disappeared, before shutting it and slowly turning around to face her.

There was about ten feet of emptiness between you where he was at the door and you were standing with your back against the table, suddenly realising just how tall he was. He stood there, unmoving, hands in his pockets, narrowed eyes boring into you. You returned his gaze with defiance, softly biting your lip in both anticipation and teasing.

“That was fun,” he said finally, his face conveying the exact opposite.

“Was it?” You shrugged. “I mean… sure, he’s cute,” you allowed, carefully observing him for any movement. “But not my type.”

God, he was so hot. The corners of his mouth widened, but it wasn’t a smile. He took his hands out of his pockets, flexing one of them as he did, and placed them on his hips. “What’s your type?” he asked, as though inquiring about the weather.

“Um…” You noticed all of a sudden that he was closer to you now than he was a few moments ago. “Tall,” you said vaguely, waiting for Taehyung to nod shortly in approval. “Smart. Well-built,” you added, enjoying how he twisted his neck slightly, “... artistic. Kind of moody,” you added further, tilting your head up slightly so you could look him in the eye. He was standing right in front of you now, your chests barely an inch apart.

He didn’t touch you, though. Up close, the black hair, black eyebrows, black clothing played havoc with your heart as he gazed down at you, smooth face betraying nothing. Against your skirt, you felt something move. “Anything else?”

You nodded, ready to play your last card. “I like my men kind of jealous, too, sometimes,” you told him, biting your lip and silently begging him to prove you right. Truth be told, you weren’t big on jealousy. But you had a feeling he knew that, too. Still holding your gaze, he tugged lightly at your skirt before running a hand up the inside of your thigh, stopping just before your soaked underwear. You’ll probably have to throw this pair away, you thought, as his lips curled back slightly over his lips.

Then, all of a sudden, his hand dropped back to his side. You frowned, your breath still caught in your chest, when he tilted his chin up slightly. “Take it off,” he commanded, voice calm and deep.

A shiver went down your spine and you resisted the urge to say yes, sir; somehow, you didn’t feel like it was the right way to address him. His eyes were darker than ever as he gazed down at you, waiting for you to obey. So, you did. Trying to keep your fingers steady, you reached up your skirt and shimmied out of the black bikini-cut you’d put on this morning, hoping for the best.

Taehyung’s eyes followed it as it fell around your feet before looking back up at you. He took a step forward and placed both hands on either side of you on the table, effectively trapping you. “Hop on.”

Everything he was saying sounded like the exact opposite of what it implied. His voice, already world famous for being deep and sexy, was irresistible when he was using it to tell you what to do… especially when you knew you’d do it. You nodded silently and hitched yourself up, legs dangling a foot above the ground. Taehyung ran his hands slowly up your thighs, disappearing under your skirt, holding your gaze the entire time. He didn’t stop until he reached your hips and squeezed them slightly.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he slowly got down on one knee, and then both, and your toes curled inside your shoes at the thought of what was coming. He smirked slightly, clearly knowing where your mind was at, before pushing your skirt up and raising an eyebrow. You shut your eyes involuntarily, knowing for certain that you were about to make a whole mess on the pool table.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he observed in that same calm, deep voice, sounding almost surprised. “Did Jimin get you this wet?”

Ah. You’d almost forgotten what started this whole charade. At the end of the day, your strong, dominant Kim Taehyung was still jealous. You didn’t know how much to push this, but you reasoned that there was no time like the present to find out. You shook your hair back and looked down at him. “Maybe a bit?”

Taehyung’s reaction was exactly what you’d hoped for. His jaw visibly clenched and he pulled you forward with a jerk so it was just the edge of your hips keeping you on the table. You gasped at the sudden movement and he nodded in approval and, wordlessly, leaned forward and swiped his tongue up your folds.

“Oh, fuck!” You didn’t see it coming and you had to grip the edge of the table to keep yourself steady. Apparently, once Taehyung was unleashed, he was a monster, for his hands didn’t loosen their grip on your thighs even for a moment, remaining almost painfully tight, enough that you were sure you’d have bruises in the morning; the thought aroused you even more. His mouth was relentless; he was eating you out, sucking on your clit and running his tongue across your slit like it was butter.

Your hand found its way to his hair and you clutched at it and pulled, making him grunt. You could feel the vibration in your core and you whimpered - and you felt him smile. Or it was a smirk, but you were so close that you couldn’t tell. “Tae,” you gasped, “Tae, I’m close…”

He shook his head. “Yeah? Jimin’s making you come?” He spread your legs wider with a jerk and you whined, pulling at his hair again.

“No, no…” You gave up now - you just wanted to come. “It’s just you - only you…”

“Sure about that?”

You nodded vigorously, barely able to find the words. You felt his tongue lick your clit again and you sighed when, all of a sudden, he pulled away and stood up, running a hand through his hair and wiping his mouth. “Not so easy,” he growled softly, coming to stand between your legs and crashing his lips onto yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue; you responded with urgency, pulling at his t-shirt to bring him closer while he ran his hands up your sides and squeezed your breasts, making you moan into his mouth.

His lips at your neck, he slipped one hand around your waist and smoothly brought you down. “Turn around,” he rasped into your ear.

“Uh-huh.” You obeyed just as you saw him reaching into his pocket and finding them empty; you were leaning on your hands, your legs trembling from the orgasm you were so close to when you realised what you were looking for.

“My bag,” you said breathlessly, pointing to the small backpack peeking out from behind the table. “I have a… there’s a condom.” You both hadn’t gotten to it during the frantic stairwell sex but since you were on the pill, you didn’t quite mind in hindsight.

If Taehyung found it presumptuous, he said nothing about it. You felt him move away and reappear a few moments later. “Good girl,” he murmured, voice like velvet as you heard the condom wrapper tear. A few seconds later, you felt his wrapped tip touch your entrance and you groaned, your hands curling into fists, but you didn’t say a word, not wanting him to deny you another chance to finish.

Taehyung placed his hands on your waist and bit your earlobe before whispering, his hot breath on your ear. “Do you want me to stop, baby?”

You almost came right there, but you made yourself respond in the negative because you knew what he was really asking, in true Taehyung fashion, just like he had in Japan. “Please… please fuck me already, Tae,” you added in a whine, backing into him slightly.

The next thing you knew, you felt his hands on your hips and he entered you slowly, both of you groaning in unison. You couldn’t believe it; you’d almost forgotten to savour what he felt like, how he stretched you out, how his hands made your skin feel like it was on fire at the slightest touch. He established a rhythm quickly; you knew you couldn’t hold out much longer.

Taehyung was pounding into you, each thrust getting you closer and closer to the edge. “Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” he muttered, hands clutching your hips tightly. “You’re so - fucking - wet…”

“Tae, I’m gonna come,” you gasped once more, your arms buckling. “I’m gonna…”

“Come for me, baby,” he murmured, “just for me… come on…”

At his approval, you felt yourself ride your third orgasm of the night. He was still going as waves of pleasure hit you one by one, until you finally came down from it, your neck feeling cool and damp while his rhythm got even faster. He was murmuring in Korean again, before switching back to English.

“Dilara, I’m going to -” He grunted with one last thrust, leaning over you and letting go of your hips, placing his hands next to yours on the table. Panting, he pressed a kiss to your shoulder before resting his forehead on it, slowly coming down from his high.

You felt spent - in a good way. Taehyung pulled out slowly and you winced slightly at the sensation. A few seconds later, you felt his arms go around your waist and gently pull you into his chest as he kissed you on the cheek. “Are you okay?” he asked in Korean, voice a soft, deep murmur against your skin. Your Korean was less than basic, but this you understood. You were too exhausted to say anything, though, so you simply nodded, turning your head slightly to capture his lips in yours.

You turned around in his arms, reaching up on the tips of your toes, and kissed him with renewed passion. You pulled away when you realised you weren’t wearing any underwear.

“Um, can you -” You pointed to where the black scrap of cloth had been kicked a few feet away. Taehyung immediately brought it back, a slightly sheepish yet proud look on his face as he handed it to you and you slipped it back on. “So,” you began, once you’d hopped onto the table, pulling him closer by the hand to stand in between your legs, “the famous V of BTS gets jealous?”

He didn’t look embarrassed; instead, he tossed his hair out of his eyes and rested his hands casually on your hips. “Not really,” was all he said, silently daring you to disagree. You raised an eyebrow but when you couldn’t help but smile at what a liar he was, he smiled too and dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry if I went a bit…” He scrunched up his face and you realised he was searching for the word. “... overboard,” he said finally before pausing. “Actually, no, I’m not.”

You laughed, shoving him by the shoulder. “It was amazing,” you told him honestly before kissing him. He kissed you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and stepping closer to you. His lips felt so warm, so familiar, so perfectly made for yours that the words came out without meaning to. “I love you,” you whispered against his lips, feeling him freeze the moment you said it.

Fuck. You pulled away slowly, dropping your hand from his face onto your lap, unable to believe what you’d just uttered. It was crazy to think he’d still feel the same way… except you had a feeling he did, but you couldn’t be sure. The longer he stayed silent, the more you were convinced you were wrong and the humiliation only got worse. You cupped the back of your neck with both your hands, still not meeting his eyes, and you were just about to hop off the table when his hand came up to your chest.

You stiffened automatically before you saw what he was reaching for. Somewhere during the glorious fucking over the table, the chain around your neck had slipped out of your top. Eight months ago, after a perfect forty-eight hours when you’d both finally arrived at the topic you’d been avoiding, you and Taehyung had more or less made your peace with never meeting again - until you’d been checking out of the hotel after your race and the concierge had slipped you a small brown envelope with a plain silver band inside it, the same one Taehyung had been wearing on his index finger the entire time. Now, he looped the same finger around the ring and tugged gently. “You’re still wearing this?”

You didn’t answer and you knew he wasn’t expecting one either. You felt your heart sink slowly, mentally kicking yourself for your inadvertent declaration of love and wearing a token of it, while he hadn’t even responded yet. At the time, you were sure that the ring meant he didn’t want that weekend to be the end. Now, for the first time since, you wondered if you were wrong. Taehyung brushed his thumb against your jaw and you finally dared to look up at him, trying hard not to look too hurt or hopeful.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked after a few moments, sounding hesitant. Not trusting yourself to speak, you simply nodded. He continued looking at you contemplatively before finally dropping his gaze to rest somewhere between your chin and your neck. “What happened with you and Alex Turner?”

Your heart stopped. It wasn’t that you were afraid of answering; it was just so far off from what you’d expected him to respond with that it took you a moment to gather your thoughts. Taehyung’s eyes snapped up to meet your eyes again and you could see your doubts suddenly reflecting in his, starting to assume the worst, worry clouding his dark eyes even as his face remained smooth and impassive as ever.

Finally, you exhaled deeply, knowing this had to come up eventually. “We dated,” you said simply. “For a few weeks. Nothing more.”

“When you say ‘dated’...”

You bit your lip, not sure what kind of detail he wanted you to go into. “Um… we met in Monaco during the race weekend... and then again in London. Since he lives there, too,” you added, hoping that answered his question. Your heart lurched at the look on his face, the silent hurt along with the forced resignation. “I broke up with him, though,” you whispered after a moment.

He nodded, not meeting your eyes. “I wondered why you’d stopped responding,” he said quietly. “Guess I know now.”

Ouch. Your shoulders dropped. “Tae…”

He swallowed as he continued to finger the ring. Finally, he closed his fist around the ring and sighed. “Did you love him?”

“No.” The answer was easy and immediate. You didn’t love Alex Turner; you didn’t think you ever could have, not so long as Taehyung still hovered within the boundaries of your life, a door unclosed. “The last guy I loved is standing right in front of me,” you admitted, feeling a bit bolder, just wanting him to look at you.

The corner of his mouth tilted up slightly but he still didn’t say anything. “I never forgot about you,” he murmured after a moment, slowly looking up at you, eyes bigger and more earnest than you’d ever seen them.

“Me neither.” You reached up to cover his hand with yours. “Not for a second.”

After what looked like a moment of decision, Taehyung lowered his head and kissed you again, a little tentatively. When you opened your mouth to let him in, leaning in and holding his face to yours, telling him everything you were too afraid to, he sighed.

“Is it bad that I want to kill him?” he murmured against your lips.

You giggled, partly in endearment and partly in relief, and shook your head, going back to kissing him. “Not at all.”

“I’ve loved you every day since Japan, Dilara,” he confessed, moving his lips to your jaw and up to your ear. You felt your face heat up again and didn’t respond, suddenly euphoric. You had sex again, equally passionate but far more gentle, with you lying back on the pool table and Taehyung’s comfortable weight on you, his movements soft and loving. He whispered after a few minutes that neither of you had another condom. You bit your lip, telling him you got tested after Alex, before he confessed that he hadn’t been with anyone after you. Your love for him filled your whole heart and you kissed him and, despite your better judgement, asked him to finish inside you.

You went back outside after that. It was nearing four a.m.; when you settled down against the low wall, with you situated between his legs and resting back against his chest, you finally started to feel tired. Taehyung’s arms were around you, loose but secure, his embrace warm and comforting. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, keeping the comfortable silence going, and turned slightly to breathe in his scent again.

It was barely a few minutes later when you realised he’d fallen asleep. You suddenly remembered that he’d finished a concert tonight, but you couldn’t find it in herself to feel guilty. Careful not to wake him up, you pulled his arms tighter around yourself and leaned back, trying to imprint this moment in your brain as deeply as you could, not knowing if or when you would ever get this again.

You awoke at dawn, the first rays of sun appearing over the horizon. Your phone buzzed just then: a reminder for your flight. You swore, realising you had about ten minutes to leave for your hotel or you would miss your flight. Los Angeles traffic this early shouldn’t be much, but you couldn’t risk it. You started shrugging Taehyung’s arms off and getting to your feet when you felt him stir and tighten his arms around you, groaning into your neck.

“Baby, stop,” he whined in Korean, shifting slightly and crossing his legs around you. Despite the fact that you knew you had to leave, you couldn’t help but beam, your heart soaring at a sleepy, irate Taehyung cuddling you at the break of dawn. You allowed yourself, for one self-indulgent moment, to imagine this moment if you were a couple; a normal couple, dating like normal people, waking up lying on a bed instead of sitting upright on a terrace, half-naked in pajamas instead of concert clothing and make-up, cuddling and snogging until you had to get up instead of cruelly being forced apart yet again with no knowledge of the next time.

It made you smile, but it also made your heart hurt. You sank into his chest for a moment, taking in as much of Taehyung as you could, before turning your head and kissing his cheek. “Tae,” you murmured, nudging him. “Wake up, babe.”

Eyes still closed, he shook his head and buried his face deeper into your neck, twisting your bodies until you both stumbled and fell sideways onto the ground. Taehyung groaned and sat up, squinting in the light as he attempted to flatten his hair, while you got to your feet, dusting yourself off and offering him a hand. Frowning up at you, he said something in Korean.

Biting your lip, you eventually gave up. “My Korean isn’t nearly good enough to understand that,” you reminded him, helping him up. “But I’m learning.”

“You are?”

“Well, I mean, kind of. I don’t know,” you said vaguely, now checking your bag for all your belongings and looking around in case you’d dropped anything. “You know my friend Chris, right? He got sick of me asking him for translations so he’s determined to make sure I learn the language now.” You looked up to see him looking more confused than ever.

“Who’s Chris?”

You gave him a look. “You met him. In Suzuka.”

Taehyung’s frown deepened. “He didn’t work for Red Bull, right?” When you shook your head, his eyes widened. “He’s Korean?”

“Yes. His name is Chris Park. Actually,” you added, “his name is Park Chanyeol.”

“Why didn’t he speak to us in Korean?”

You frowned. “I don’t think he spoke to you at all. You were ignoring me that day, remember?”

Taehyung gave you an unimpressed look, marred by the smile creeping onto his face. “I’m sorry about that,” he said softly, sounding sincere as he came closer to you. When you lightly knocked him on the chest, looking up at him with as much fondness as you could, he swallowed, the smile on his face fading into resignation. “Dilara…”

Your stomach did a backflip at the sound of your name, once again sounding like a song he didn’t want to stop singing. He swallowed again and opened his mouth, but closed it before shaking his head and opening his arms.

You walked into them without hesitation, reaching up and wrapping your arms around his shoulders, feeling him hold you to him tightly. You stayed there for a few moments and, right on cue, you could feel your eyes start to sting with tears. It was so unfair; you wanted to stomp your foot and punch something. You could feel Taehyung press his lips to your shoulder, your neck, the side of your head in quick succession, the situation clearly hitting him now as well.

“I love you,” he mumbled into your hair, deep voice trembling. “Let’s not wait another eight months to do this again, please?”

You nodded, chuckling. “I agree.” You pulled away to wrap your arms around his torso, hiding your face in his shoulder. “I’ll miss you, Kim Taehyung.” He kissed the top of your head before you finally separated. You knew you were crying now, tears actively escaping your eyes as you wiped them. You could tell that Taehyung was just about holding it together, trying to be strong for both of you but he was crying, too. You stepped back and put on your bag, when something fell out of it.

You picked it up before he could, straightening the long black and white bandana in your hands. “I’m keeping this,” you informed him.

He gave you a small smile and nodded indulgently. “It’s yours.”

It was too hard after that - plus, you were getting late. You reached up and kissed him, a quick kiss, lasting less than ten seconds before you turned and bolted, knowing there wasn’t much else to say. You reached your hotel, crying the whole way to the airport, and knocked yourself out with an aspirin on the flight, hoping to catch up on sleep the entire way to London. Just before you took off, you saw a message on your phone.

Next time, I’m taking you out on a real date. I love you. Fly safe.

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

#notes🍷#the best reviews #taehyung x dilara #oddinary4bts

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autisticlancemcclain · 3 years ago

Text

I’ll Go Get A Ring (Let The Choir Bells Sing)

Keith/Lance (Voltron), Fluff, Marriage, Getting Together, 4.6k Words

Summary: After Keith proposes to Lance out of nowhere, they get hitched. It’s a bit of a mess, but it is adorable.

---

Lance can’t really say he’s expecting Keith’s visit, but he also won’t lie and say he’s surprised. When Keith briefly knocks on his door just before midnight, after leaving this afternoon to “run a quick errand in Black, don’t wait up,” Lance doesn’t even get up to let him in — Keith’s handprint has been keyed into the door for so long that Lance has forgotten a time when it wasn’t. The knock is more of a greeting than a request for entry.

He doesn’t even get up as Keith takes three quick strides to where Lance is laying on his bed, he only shoves a bookmark in his novel and has just enough time to set it on his dresser before Keith flops on top of him, resting his chin on folded hands and staring at Lance’s freshly washed face.

“Hey,” Lance greets with a grin, brushing Keith’s bangs off his forehead.

Keith grins back at him, leaning into the touch. “Hey, Lance,” he says softly. Lance feels the rumble of Keith’s low voice vibrate through his chest. It makes him feel settled, calm. Cared for.

“Where’d you go?” Lance asks after a couple minutes of just enjoying the feeling of Keith’s weight on his body. It’s better than any weighted blanket, and Keith knows it.

God, Lance loves this man.

“Olkarion.”

“Mm. How come?”

Keith closes his eyes as Lance continues to card gentle fingers through his hair. It’s not a mullet, anymore — it’s too long for that. Keith hasn’t cut it since they came to space. The long braid it’s usually in won’t stop Lance’s teasing, though — he’d call Keith ‘Mullet’ if the man was bald. You don’t get to bury that hairstyle in the past.

“Just double checking something,” Keith says carefully. “D’you know Olkarion marriage certificates are recognised on almost every single known planet in the universe?”

Lance’s freezes briefly, but continues his steady motions through Keith’s hair.

Not surprised, but not expecting it.

It’s silent for a few moments. Not an uncomfortable silence, not even a hesitant one. Keith doesn’t look nervous or afraid. The only way he’s looking at Lance is lovingly. Reverently. Lance feels a lump in his throat.

“I’m not easy,” Lance warns eventually, voice shaking. “I need a lot of attention. There are days where I can’t get out of bed. I flail around in my sleep. I’m whiny, I don’t eat many different foods, and I don’t always liked to be touched. I’m a handful.”

Keith turns his head the next time Lance brings his hand back to brush through his bangs, pressing a gentle kiss to the palm.

“You think I don’t know all that already? Lance,” he leans his head into Lance’s cupped hand, and Lance strokes a soft thumb over his cheekbone. “I don’t need you to be easy. Or palatable, or healthy, or pretty — although you are — or normal. I just need you. I love you, sweetheart. I’m in love with you. I don’t want to be anything else.”

Lance can’t stop the tears clouding his eyes, and wouldn’t if he could, anyway. Keith has known him at his lowest, and loved him then. There’s no reason to hide.

“Besides, I’m not perfect either,” Keith adds. “I get angry too easily. I say mean things just to hurt people sometimes, even though I always regret it. I have a ridiculously minuscule amount of impulse control. I forget important dates and anniversaries — you’ll probably have to remind me every year, several times. I regularly forget to eat and shower. I’m just as much of a mess as you, nae salang. But I want you with me, Lance, always. I want us.”

“I want you too,” Lance chokes out. “All of you. Every part of you. I love you, I love you, I love you. Entirely and wholly, Keith. You’re my moon and my sun and my stars. You’re everything to me, amor. All I’ve ever wanted or needed.”

Keith plants his hands on either sides of Lance’s torso, heaving himself up. He hovers on top of Lance, grinning widely, and Lance giggles through his tears, because the position is just so ridiculous.

“There’s that smile,” Keith whispers, before he leans down and presses the world’s gentlest kiss to Lance’s lips.

Seriously. You’d think he’s made of porcelain, or something.

Lance wraps his arms around Keith’s neck and yanks him down, kissing him harder. Keith loses his balance, and collapses on top of him, making them both laugh. The kiss is messy, wet because Lance was just crying everywhere, and their teeth clank together every time they giggle, which is frequently.

But it’s the best kiss Lance has ever had, because it’s his first kiss with Keith, so it’s perfect.

Keith pulls away to press kisses all over Lance’s face; his eyebrows, his forehead, his cheekbones, his nose, his chin. He presses kisses to the side of Lance’s head, his neck, his collarbone — anywhere he can reach. He makes his way over to Lance’s left ear, pressing a kiss right under it before biting the lobe playfully.

“So is that a yes?” he asks.

Lance snorts, flicking him on the temple. Keith pouts, but allows it.

“Of course it’s a yes, you doofus. I said so yesterday, didn’t I?”

“Just checkin’,” Keith confirms, before pressing one last kiss to Lance’s cheek and sitting up. “Okay, you ready to go?”

Lance raises an eyebrow, although he's one hundred percent certain that he’ll follow Keith wherever he goes.

“Keith, it’s, like, one in the morning. My hair isn’t straightened and I’m wearing pajamas —”

“You look beautiful,” Keith insists, and Lance knows he means it. “Besides, I double-checked. There are, like, three hundred marriage offices on Olkarion, and at least half of them are open 24/7. Plus, we need to get rings on the way.”

Lance raises his eyebrow even higher, smirking. “I thought I said you had to get a ring before you asked again,” he teases.

Keith huffs, but he’s grinning. “Yeah, I know, but I figured you might want to pick them. I know you have a very particular taste in jewellery, and I didn’t want to accidentally pick something that might have a weird feeling or something.”

Lance’s teasing expression drops into something like shock, although he knows he shouldn’t be surprised by Keith’s thoughtfulness. As impulsive as he tends to be, he genuinely has everyone’s best interests at heart, and always has them ahead of his own. Lance can feel his chin start to tremble. Again.

God, this man is literally everything he’s ever wanted. Lance would wonder if Keith’s even real, but he knows he couldn’t come up with Keith no matter how hard he tried. It regularly blows his mind that even something so mighty as the universe was able to make someone who just… clicks with him, as well as he does. Lance can’t imagine what they’d be if not together.

“I love you,” Lance says again. “So much.”

Keith leans down and kisses him again, so softly, before pulling them both up from the bed and to Black’s hangar.

Once they’re settled in the cockpit (Lance in Keith’s lap, which would give Shiro, Allura, and Coran a hernia if they found out. They’re sticklers for safety, and this is not a safe position. It is fun, though. Also kind of sexy), Keith starts outlining his thoughts and plans to Lance.

“So, obviously, our final stop is Olkarion to get hitched. But we have to stop somewhere to get rings. There are a couple shops on Olkarion, but you deserve the best, so that’s not an option,” Keith says matter-of-factly, and Lance hides a smile.

“So what’s the plan, then, fearless leader?”

It’s Keith turn to smile, like he always does when Lance calls him that. Lance loves that particular smile, and so he says it as often as possible, no matter how much Pidge gags about it (which is an added bonus, honestly).

“You remember that time you got that weird Altean disease that made you break out in mumps and you were so embarrassed that you wouldn’t leave your room unless everyone left the castle first?”

Lance scowls at the memory, but nods. That stupid disease sucked. It was the worst. Call him a drama queen, but he thinks he was justified. He had a giant mump on his face, people. His gorgeous, beautiful face. Obviously he had to prevent people from seeing that.

“Well, on one of the times we were out of the castle I was screwing around in space, and I came across this planet, right? And I swear to God it was just like Niðavellir.” At Lance questioning glance, Keith hurries to explain the reference, cheeks a little pink. “The, uh, Dwarf realm. In Norse myth.”

Lance’s grin grows, and he can’t help a teasing comment: “Geek.”

Keith’s scowls, and his cheeks redden further, which is adorable. He flicks Lance’s nose and continues.

“Anyway. I ended up asking them if they wanted to join the Coalition, and they were pretty chill about it. One dude also said he’d trade me a favour if I let him check out my knife, and I figured that was a pretty good deal, so I agreed.”

Lance is a little surprised that Keith let some stranger touch his beloved knife, but then he remembers how often Keith geeks out to him about Magnus Chase and Percy Jackson and all that myth stuff, and the surprise fades.

Man, he really landed the cutest fiancé (soon to be husband!) in the universe. God.

“So, here’s the thing — they can make anything. Literally anything. And their planet is chock full of precious metals and jewels and stuff. They’re also inhumanly fast. Well, obviously, because they’re not human, but you get the idea. Also, they don’t really sleep? Olso said he only sleeps every few centuries, and he had a nap last century, so we should be good to trade that favour now, if you want. This way your ring can be anything you want, and I can match.”

Keith is looking at him so hopefully, and Lance all can hear is the blood rushing in his ears. He knows he says it all the time, but Keith is literally his favourite person. This is, no word of a lie, the sweetest, most thoughtful, kindest, most loving thing anyone has done for him. Ever.

He leans up, cupping Keith’s face in his hands, and kisses him soundly. For several minutes. Long enough, in fact, that Keith lets go of Black’s controls to wrap his arms around Lance’s waist and dip him, a little.

When Lance finally finds the strength to pull away slightly, a trail of saliva connecting their mouths (which, in literally any other situation, would be disgusting, but Lance is so happy right now that Keith could pour soup in his lap and his mood would be unchanged), several minutes have passed. Oops.

“I love you,” Lance repeats. He feels a bit like a broken record, but it’s the only sentiment he can think of that encompasses all he’s feeling right now.

Keith smiles. “Great!” he chirps, “I’ll message Olso quickly and then we can head over. Shouldn’t be more than a half hour ride.”

Unsurprisingly, they find a way to kill that time:

“— and it turns out Zeus had stripped Apollo of all his godly powers? Again? But this time he was pretty serious about it, and also he didn’t let Apollo stay hot —”

Lance sighs (okay, dreamily, he’ll admit it), looking up at Keith’s excited face and wildly gesturing arms. He’s about 10% focused on piloting Black (thank the universe for sentient lion autopilot) and 90% focused on meticulously detailing the entire storyline of Rick Riordan’s demigod universe. All two bazillion books — once the references started to drop, it was like the rest of them came spilling right out.

And Lance wants to hear every word of it. He’s completely enamoured with Keith — his legs are swinging and everything, like in the romcoms. He’s whipped. If he wasn’t so happy he’d be a little disgusted with himself.

Honestly, though, he’d challenge anyone to look at Keith’s passionate lecture about the demigod universe and not fall a little in love. C’mon, now. His eyes are just so bright. It’s so cute.

“— and I haven’t even covered what’s happening down in Brooklyn, seriously, if you think Apollo had it bad —”

Keith is cut off my Black’s sudden stop (which, honestly, is a little sad, but Lance reminds himself that he’s going to hear these rambles for the rest of his life and feels considerable better), and through the windshield a small, brown planet is visible.

“They live underground,” Keith explains, “‘cause there’s almost no ozone layer, and they need to breathe, so.”

“Got it.”

The land Black as close to one of the entrances to the city as they can, holding hands as they excitedly bound down the stairs to a huge metal door — it looks like the entrance to a giant safe in those old-timey cartoons.

As soon as they get close, the gears on the door start turning rapidly, and in seconds the door whips open to reveal a short, hairy alien with biceps the size of Hunk’s head.

“Keith!” greets the alien jovially. Hearing him speak is slightly disorienting, because his moustache and beard are so big that they mask any movement of his mouth.

“Hey, Olso,” Keith responds casually, but his smile gives away how excited he is. “This is my fiancé, Lance.”

The alien grins (at least Lance thinks he does — his moustache twitches upwards, like Coran’s does when he’s about to make a horribly painful dad joke that only Shiro finds in any way funny). “So this is the Lance I’ve heard so much about, eh? The one who shines brighter than any sun and whose smile brings you to levels of joy you found previously unimaginable? He’s certainly as handsome as you’ve described,” Olso says, winking at the couple.

Keith goes a bright cherry red, and Lance joins him, butterflies outdoing Simone Biles with all the flips they’re doing in his stomach.

Holy smokes. Is this how Keith talks about him to other people?

Olso laughs heartily at their faces, ushering them in. He turns around as soon as they cross the doorway, turning a giant wheel to shut the massive door. “Ah, young love,” he says with a sigh. “I remember when I first wed my partner, friends. I was just as besotted as Keith, and talked about them to anyone who would listen. They blushed just as much as you did, Lance, when they found out — what a lovely sight!” Olso sighs just as dreamily as Lance did earlier, which makes him smile. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard Keith talk about you already. He’d hardly spoken three words to me before he mentioned you, and then you were his favourite subject to discuss. I was overjoyed to hear he’d finally mustered the nerve to ask for your hand.”

Lance squeezes Keith’s hand, a little overwhelmed an a lot flattered. “Really?” he whispers.

Keith smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I kind of love you, in case you didn’t notice.”

Lance snorts, and presses a quick kiss to Keith’s still red cheek. “I don’t think I could avoid noticing, dork, even if I was the densest person to ever exist. Apparently you can’t talk to someone without talking about me.”

Keith shrugs, not denying it, and Lance grins. He swings their hands back and forth as they follow Olso to his workshop.

Lance’s jaw drops as they enter, and he’s completely speechless. First of all, the whole thing is built in some sort of sapphire cave, which is probably one of the coolest, most badass and hardcore places to build a workshop. Aside from that, wonderfully beautiful and intricate pieces of artwork are strewn about the whole place. Several dozen delicate necklaces, crowns, thrones, even. It’s wild.

“Amazing, isn’t it,” Keith comments.

Amazing does not begin to cover it.

“And everything was built in under a day,” Olso brags, which Lance feels is pretty justified. If he built even one of these things, he’d probably never shut up about it. “But Keith has told me your rings are a matter of urgency, and I owe the good man a favour, so I’ll have your rings completed in a few minutes. Do you have your designs ready?”

Keith turns to Lance, expectant. “You can design mine too, if you’d like,” he says. “You’ve got a good eye for that stuff.”

In a millisecond, Lance as transported back to his five-year-old self, small and endlessly curious on his mother’s lap.

“Why don’t you have a diamond on your ring like Eli’s mama?” he’d questioned.

She’d smiled at him, eyes far away as she ruffled his hair. As if recalling distant memories. “I asked papá to marry me. The rings with the diamonds are usually for the people who are asked, not who do the asking.”

“So why doesn’t papá have a diamond? Why doesn’t he even have a golden ring? His ring is blue!”

His mother had laughed loudly, pressing a kiss to his head.

“Yes, mijo, that is because papá is in the shop all day. If he had a ring with a diamond on it, he wouldn’t be able to wear it to work, which would make him sad. And I got him a blue ring because blue is his favourite colour,” she said simply.

Lance thinks of how he’s never, not even once, seen his parents take off their rings. How they smile every time they see them. He thinks about how often he and Keith are doing a job that is dangerous, a job where they need their hands. He thinks that he doesn’t need a giant diamond to know how much Keith loves him.

“Just two gold bands,” he says softly.

Keith smiles at him, just as soft, not doubting his decision for a second.

“Coming right up,” Olso says quietly, sensing the mood in the room.

As promised, a few minutes later, Olso has finished the rings. He gives both to Lance, who cradles them gently in one hand (he has to keep one hand free to hold onto Keith, obviously).

“They feel okay?” Keith asks, and Lance nods, too emotional to say anything.

“Thank you, Olso,” Keith says for them. “We’d stay longer, but…”

“I believe you have a wedding to attend,” Olso finishes, eyes twinkling. “I’ll let you fellows out.”

Lance lets Keith guide him out, unable to stop himself from stroking the rings continuously. He hasn’t even put his on yet, but he already loves it. A physical symbol of their love.

Once they’re back in Black, Keith wraps his solid arms around him, holding Lance tightly. Lance buries his face in Keith’s neck, taking a moment. As happy as he is, he’s a little overwhelmed, and he’s grateful Keith knows him well enough to give him a break.

Lance pulls away after several minutes, pressing a lingering kiss to Keith’s jaw. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Keith shakes his head, grabbing both of Lance’s hands and squeezing. “Don’t thank me for being decent, baby. You deserve the world.”

Lance squeezes Keith’s hands, smiles at him, and tugs him towards the piloting chair.

“I dunno about you, but I’m kind of ready to be your husband,” Lance says, changing the subject with absolutely zero subtlety.

Keith laughs, head thrown back. “Yeah, me too,” he says, sitting down and pulling Lance back into his lap. “Let’s go tie the knot.”

By the time they get to Olkarion (it took… longer than it should have. But Lance is a little engagement-giddy, and he has spent the last who-knows-how-many-hours on Keith’s lap, so sue him for getting a little handsy), it must be something like 4:30 in the morning, and both of their lips are kiss-swollen and red. Lance’s hair is a curly mess, and Keith’s hair has been tugged on so many times his scalp has to hurt.

It’s perfect.

They stumble into the first marriage office they see, so giggly they almost look drunk. Luckily, the officiant appears to be amused, congratulating them on their engagement before having them sign their papers.

Keith signs first, and Lance slides into the bench next to him, not even hesitating before signing his name as ‘Leandro Agustín Nuñez Carmen Esposita-Kogane’. Keith sucks in a sharp breath, looking at Lance with carefully guarded eyes.

“‘Kogane’?” he asks, hushed. “You sure?”

Lance smiles at his (basically, at this point, c’mon) husband, soft and loving. “When I left Earth, there were something like 76 McClains,” he starts. “When we get back, there’ll be at least eight more. I want to be a Kogane, my love. I want to carry on your family’s name every time I introduce myself. Someday, I want to tell our children about their grandfather, whose name they share, and about his heroic deeds on Earth and in raising a wonderful, feral, half-alien desert menace.” Keith chuckles, tears streaming down his face. Lance brushes them away, pressing his love through their skin. “Plus,” Lance adds with a wink, “I think Lance Kogane sounds pretty cool. All menacing and stuff. Mr. and Mr. Kogane, the butt-kicking ninja leaders of Voltron! Watch out! Pew pew pew!”

As he hoped, this makes Keith laugh, tears fading away. Lance finishes his signature with a heart (because he’s sappy and he can), and the officiant beckons them to an altar.

“Do you have personal vows, or would you prefer to repeat the standard words we have prepared?”

“I have my own vows,” Keith says confidently. Lance agrees. He has nothing prepared, but he doesn’t need any. He knows how he feels about Keith. He’ll never need to practice telling people about how much he loves his husband.

“Lance,” Keith starts, holding their hands together and beaming at him. “You’re my everything. You’re my control, you’re my calm, you’re my excitement. You’re everything I look forward to see in the morning and everything I’m grateful to have seen at night. I told you before, sweetheart, and I’ll tell you until I die and even after: you light up my life, baby. Everything you are makes me better.”

Lance doesn’t even pretend the words don’t make him bawl like a baby. Keith is smiling so hard his eyes are crinkling, which always makes Lance feel all crackly and delighted.

“I lo—” Lance sniffles, interrupting himself, trying to get the tears under control. He fans his face, breathing deeply. “Okay. Whew. Okay. I’m good.” Keith looks so encouraging, and Lord above, Lance loves this man.

“You are everything I’ve ever wanted,” Lance confesses. “I’ve read books, I’ve seen movies, I’ve heard my sisters talk about boys since I was a kid. I have pretty high standards, you know.”

Keith snorts, tightening his grip. “Am I getting replaced by a Jane Austen character?” he teases.

“That’s the thing! You’ve completely redefined love for me. I dunno if you remember, but I was telling you about an episode of a romance-drama I love — I quoted one of the romantic lines in the series: ‘You’re the bane of my existence and the object of my every desire’. I was all swoony about it. But you scoffed, rolled your eyes. You looked me in the face and said to me, completely seriously: ‘Anyone who genuinely believes you’re the bane of their existence doesn’t deserve you. You’re too good for someone who doesn’t love your whole self’. And it was a throwaway comment, for you, you barely even blinked but — that’s when I knew, Keith. That’s when I knew I loved you with my heart and soul and mind and I will love you for as long as my soul exists. You are my universe, my love, and I can’t wait to hold you for the rest of our days and beyond.”

Lance is no longer the only one bawling. Even the officiant is a little teary. He has them repeat a few more sentences as they put their rings on each other, and just like that, they’re married. Wed! Keith doesn’t hesitate even a second before pulling Lance into a searing kiss, dipping him down and licking into his mouth. The officiant clears his throat and Keith pulls him back up, smirking.

“Hey, husband.”

“Hello yourself, husband.”

They stand there, grinning like fools, until the officiant hands them two copies of their wedding certificate and shoos them away. They sprint out of the office, laughing the whole way, until Keith makes a sudden stop and Lance almost gets his arm pulled out of his socket.

“What?“ he asks, peering over his husband’s (!!!) shoulder. He sees a little booth with a red curtain covering the entrance, and he immediately picks up Keith’s train of thought. The crowd into the tiny photobooth — it’s not really made for two people, they have to squish right together — and feed the little machine as many GAC as it will take.

They take dozens of photos, some grinning and goofy, some silly poses, and several genuine photos where they’re smiling softly at each other. Lance’s favourite is the one where he told a dorky little joke that he doesn’t even remember and Keith’s whole face his scrunched in laughter, leaning on Lance, as Lance stares at him in what almost looks like awe.

Once they’re out of GAC, with pockets so full of pictures they’re bulging, they meander back to wear Black is parked, stopping every three seconds to kiss or laugh or dance or just beam at each other. There’s always been something magic about staying up late with someone you love, but tonight it’s magnified by maybe a million, and Lance never wants the night to end.

Eventually, though, they start to tire themselves out, and by the time they make it into the cockpit they can barely keep their eyes open. They set the course for the castle, heads pressed together and fingers intertwined. Lance can’t stop smiling at their rings.

They stumble back into the castle, giggling and whispering through the halls like they’re teenagers at a sleepover rather than two grown adults, shushing each other when they laugh loudly enough that they might wake the rest of the team.

The crash into Lance’s bed, giddy and possibly a little drunk on love.

“We’re married,” Lance whispers, awed, holding his hand up to admire the ring. “We’re husbands.”

“We are,” Keith agrees, just as soft and reverent. He has a heavy arm around Lance’s waist, legs tangled together, lips pressing constant kisses to the back of Lance’s neck. Lance squirms around, shifting so he’s facing Keith. His husband.

“I love you,” he says seriously. “And I’m glad you asked me to marry you, even if it was a little out of nowhere and you forgot to date me first.”

Keith huffs, but there’s no bite to it. He presses his lips to Lance’s forehead, tightening his arms.

“It wasn’t that impulsive,” he mumbles. “I’d been thinking about it for days.”

“And the dating part?”

“…Yeah, okay, I forgot that one. I just… I love you, y’know? Dating is to get to know someone, to fall in love with them. I’ve been falling in love for you since you flew us through a wormhole. I just didn’t realise.”

“Fair,” Lance breathes, eyes drifting shut. They really kind of have been dating, even if they weren’t official about it. He goes to Keith for everything — every thought, every worry, every idea. Keith is his person. He can’t remember the last time he went a day without talking to Keith at least once. Hell, he can’t remember the last time he slept by himself.

“I love you,” Keith whispers, half asleep.

“Love you too,” Lance responds, and he’s smiling as sleep overcomes him.

After all — tomorrow, he’ll wake up to his husband. And if that isn’t a great reason to sleep, well. He doesn’t know what is.

part one

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