#taehyu

[tomorrowxtogether]

231001 BIGHIT MUSIC's Tweet

The Name Chapter: FREEFALL - Mood Teaser 'CLARITY'

#투모로우바이투게더 #TOMORROW_X_TOGETHER #TXT #TheNameChapter #FREEFALL

[kithvyy]

[taehyus]

frat boy yeonjun ! hard to get reader + small suggestive scene

the bass pulsed through the room, vibrations humming beneath your feet as neon lights flickered across a sea of moving bodies. the party was in full swing—drunken laughter, loud conversations, music loud enough to drown out your thoughts. but you? you were leaned against the kitchen counter, drink in hand, watching it all with a detached sort of amusement.

and then, predictably, yeonjun appeared.

"didn’t take you for the type to be a wallflower," he mused, voice smooth as he slid up beside you, elbow resting on the counter. his eyes glimmered with something playful, something dangerous. "waiting for someone? or just playing hard to get?"

you took a slow sip of your drink, barely looking at him. "who says i’m playing?"

his grin deepened. "so it’s natural, then? damn." he let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "you really don’t make it easy, huh?"

"should i?" you shot back, finally meeting his gaze.

he chuckled, tongue brushing over his lower lip as he tilted his head. "no. i like the chase."

you rolled your eyes, but the way he was looking at you—casual, confident, like he already knew he had your attention—made it a little harder to ignore him.

"so what’s the goal here, yeonjun?" you asked, shifting slightly, your body angling toward him just enough to keep him on his toes.

he leaned in, just close enough that his cologne mixed with the faint scent of liquor on his breath. "your attention," he murmured. "your time. your number, if i’m lucky."

"hmm," you mused, pretending to consider. "debatable."

he tsked, shaking his head with a grin. "cold." but there was no real disappointment there, just amusement—like he enjoyed watching you dance around him, making him work for it.

then, just as you were about to throw another teasing remark his way, he moved closer. not too much, just enough for the air between you to shift, for his fingers to barely brush against your hip as he leaned in, lips near your ear.

"y’know," he murmured, voice lower now, softer, "you keep looking at me like that, and i might start thinking you actually want me here."

you exhaled, steady, refusing to let him see the effect of his words. "you’re awfully full of yourself."

he laughed, the sound warm, the heat of his breath teasing against your skin. "yeah? tell me to leave then."

you opened your mouth—but hesitated just a second too long. and yeonjun, ever the opportunist, caught it.

his fingers lingered just a little longer before he finally pulled back, smirk firmly in place. "thought so," he murmured, eyes flicking down to your lips for just a second before he stepped away.

"i’ll see you around, pretty," he said, flashing you one last grin before disappearing back into the crowd.

damn it. he was too interesting for his own good.

[bearbearrz]

The Caged Bird Sings-KTH

“Let me take care of you…just like I’ve always done”

Knight!Taehyun x Princess!reader

2.3k words

smut

cw: little bit of plot, dom!tae, inexperienced reader, KTH is lowkey possessive, friends to lovers a little bit, they’re both down bad for each other, slight dacryphilia, bit of a corruption kink, p in v blah blah yall know this is smut (๑>؂•̀๑)

✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦ Kang Taehyun was no regular knight. Hailing from a noble family known for their exceptional swordsmanship, he began training at age 5. By the time he was 13, he had ascended the ranks of the royal guard. Too young to be sent on the battlefield, yet too talented to wait around until he was of age, Taehyun had been assigned a special task: Be the young princess’s personal guard.

This was no easy feat. You were nothing short of a recluse. You had a your traumatic experience where you got kidnapped at age 8, so you refused to let any men besides your father and your older brother (the crown prince) be near you. Guards were always stationed outside your door, but always too far for the comfort of your parents. Taehyun, however, was different. When you first saw the boy, you were enthralled. He was short and lean with an undoubtedly handsome face, the complete opposite of most men you’d encountered. He carried himself with a calm, mature demeanor, and never approached you suddenly. It had been two years since the incident, but to you Taehyun was safe.

Due to your shyness, Taehyun was your only friend for quite a while. Little by little, you penetrated his stoic demeanor and brought out a softer side of him. He did the same to you. 4 years later, by the time you were 14, you had no problem existing near men, and even became quite the social butterfly. You debuted into high society at age 18 with Taehyun right by your side, even with the addition of other guards. Even the infamous Kang Taehyun needed a break sometimes; he hardly let you out of his sight. Consequently, there were many speculations about the two of you, specifically regarding your seemingly romantic relationship. You blushed and dismissed them every time, despite being aware of your growing affection for the boy. Before you knew it, the small yet capable boy had morphed into a taller and more capable man. There was no denying your attraction to him. You’d often catch yourself staring at him, leisurely leaning against the back of the couch across from you with his eyes closed in meditation. Or maybe when you gazed down from your balcony to see him sparring with the other knights, clad with casual clothes that made you secretly swoon. 

He wanted you too. I mean, who didn’t? You were smart, charismatic, kind and gorgeous. Unfortunately, you were more just Taehyun’s dream girl. You became infamous in high society, and marriage proposals flew in left and right. This truly pissed him off. So much so, in fact, that he often considered swooping you up and having his way with you at any given moment (consensually, of course). He thought about how to start pursuing you, but didn’t want to get too hasty and ruin what the two of you already shared. He decided that he would only strike when he knew you felt the same. To hasten this process, he began dropping subtle hints.

“You look exceptionally beautiful today, princess.”

“You know I’ll be here whenever you need me to be, I’m your personal knight after all.”

“How could I ever be mad at my princess?” (With extra emphasis on the last part)

It effectively drove you insane. You contemplated suggesting a marriage with Taehyun to your father. What held you back was the same belief that your knight shared unbeknownst to you; you didn’t want to ruin a good thing. All of this went out the window when your father began speaking to you seriously about marriage. 

“It’s about time you begin looking for a husband, Y/N,” he says during dinner, causing you to slightly choke on your food. “You are of marriageable age.” Your mom nodded in agreement. Taehyun, who was stationed at the door, watched your emotions carefully with a slight furrow in his brow. Your mother began listing a multitude of eligible bachelors; men they would approve of. “What if…” you interrupted her, “…I had someone in mind already?” You looked up at your parents tentatively, shock written all over their faces. “That depends,” your father says. “We’ll discuss this more formally tomorrow.” Your comment didn’t go unnoticed by Taehyun, whose facial expression was nothing less than furious. He considered killing whichever bastard you were talking about. You were his, after all. He held his tongue.

And with that, you started your nightly routine. You sat in the tub with your handmaiden Rei attending to your needs. You began to air out your grievances about your recent situation. “I don’t get it!” You exclaimed, “Why is there such a push for me to get married? They already have the crown prince to focus on, so why can’t I live freely?” You asked rhetorically. Rei answered seriously: “Just get married to Taehyun.” You sat up abruptly, water splashing beneath you. “H-How did you- I mean, I could never- We-“ you stammered incoherently. “Everyone can see how you look at him…how you look at eachother.” This wasn’t far fetched. Taehyun would be a viable option. He came from a top ranking noble family, second in line to inheritance and was extremely capable in both battle and in studies. Of course, he was the person you had in mind, you just didn’t expect anyone else to notice. Rei dresses you in a particularly pretty night gown, “You still have a chance.” She says knowingly, and with that she closes the door to head to the servants quarters for the night. 

It had been 2 hours since you had your talk with Rei, 11 at night to be exact. You couldn’t sleep, not with the threat of the marriage conversation looming over your thoughts. “Taehyun,” you called out. Taehyun was stationed outside of your door tonight, as he was often . He learned to maintain a balance of sleeping and alertness, so night shifts were no big deal for him. “You called, my princess?” He says while entering your room and closing the door behind him. This was no rare occurrence. When you were younger, you often had fits of anxiety where you were unable to sleep, so Taehyun would listen to you vent and advise you (to the best of his  juvenile abilities) until you fell asleep. Although less common as the years went by, he was no stranger to entering your room during late hours. “I just…” you began, “I don’t want to get married yet, but my father keeps pushing for it.” He looks at you with an unreadable emotion in his face as he approaches the side of your bed, maintaining a respectful distance. “You’re a princess. It’s your duty.” He says. You sigh knowing he’s right. You look up at him. The moonlight seeping through your curtains illuminates his face irresistibly, awakening a yearning feeling inside of you. “Besides,” he begins as he breaks away from your gaze. “You have someone in mind, no?” He says as he turns around and begins walking towards the door. “Get some sleep, we’ll talk in the morning.” He begins reaching for the doorknob when you call out his name, causing him to stop in his tracks. “But Taehyun…” you begin,

“Can’t you just marry me?”

Like clockwork, your knight meets you on your bed, arms on either side of your head, caging you beneath him. “I don’t have time for jokes, Y/N.” He growled. His brows were furrowed, eyes scanning your face for even an ounce of disingenuousness or laughter. “But the one I had in mind is you, Taehyun” you say, looking up at him with resolve in your eyes. As if you had just said a magic word, he crashes his lips onto yours. It’s not long before he begins nipping at your bottom lip. You oblige, limp beneath his strength. He kisses and licks into you like he’s starved—as if he’s been wanting this his whole life. He pulls back, panting. “Tell me you’re mine. Tell me that you only want me” he demands. You reach up to stroke his face “it’s always been you, I’ve always been yours Taehyun.” You say through swollen lips. “You wanted out of your royal duties right? To live normally” he asks, to which you nod enthusiastically. “Then…” he begins as he trails kisses down your neck, an unfamiliar sensation building in your lower stomach.

“Let me take care of you…just like I’ve always done” 

Taehyun hardly shows any mercy, licking and biting at your skin possessively. You begin making noises unfamiliar to your ears. Taehyun leans forward to your ear as his gloved hand slips underneath your nightgown and travels to your clothed core, rubbing it gingerly. He begins to speak, his voice sinfully dripping with sugar-coated lust. “Do I have your permission to ruin you for any other man, my lady?” 

“Taehyun, please, yes,” you agree, not quite sure what you’re begging for as he lifts your gown above your head. “At your service, princess��

Taehyun wastes no time claiming your body. He licks and bites at your erect nipples, causing you to gasp in pleasure. He continues marking your body, your chest heaving with each brush of his soft lips. He pulls back to observe the mess he’s made of you. You look up at him, big eyes clouded with lust. Pure arousal soaked through your lace panties. “Fuck,” he breaths out. “I want to take you now, but I’m afraid you’ll break, my delicate princess.” 

“Taehyun,” you choke out a moan, “I need- I need you.” Taehyun grants your wishes as he begins touching you where you need him most. He pulls down your ruined panties, watching as the wetness clings to your core. “You want me this bad, my love?” He remarks as he runs a gloved finger through your sopping hole. “Hhhngh-“ you moan out, his touch finally satisfying your foreign desire. “Shhh,” he breaths, “don’t want anyone to hear us, hm?” Taehyun takes off his glove and shoves it in your mouth unexpectedly. You bite down on the cold leather, slick with your own precum. “I’m going to put it in, okay?” He says as he slides a finger in your hot core. Causing you to choke out a muffled moan. “That’s a good girl, taking it so well.” he affirms, gaze fixed on the way your cunt swallows his finger. He adds another one, determined to prep you well for his cock. His dark eyes wander to your face, your half lidded eyes seemed to focus on nothing. Drool leaks from the side of your mouth as his glove lays fixed between your plump lips. Your eyebrows are furrowed in a pleasured confusion. Your gaze meets his. Begging—pleading for his touch, as if you’ll die if he stops his ministrations. One look at you, and Taehyun nearly cums in his pants. 

Unable to take it anymore, Taehyun eases his fingers out of you. You begin to complain at the lack of touch until you lock eyes with him deeply sucking on his wet fingers, not daring to break eye contact. You buck your hips in response, moaning out a muffled ‘please’. “Quit making this so hard for me princess,” Taehyun growls as he unbuckles his belt, dropping it to the floor with a loud *clang*. Taehyun rids himself of his clothes and positions in front of you. Your gaze fixed on his erect cock, tip red and leaking with precum. For whatever reason, your mouth begins to water. “See what you do to me? Why I’ve been holding back?” He asks rhetorically, to which you shake your head no. He hisses at your response. “Oh? Want me to show you?” He says, running his tip through your wet folds. “Such a spoiled princess.” He remarks before easing into you. You stretch uncomfortably around his dick, eyes rolling back into your head as you bite down on his glove to suppress your noises. He bottoms out and waits for you to adjust before thrusting into you.

Deep. Hard.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, you have no idea princess” he rambles between thrusts. “Fuck-every time a man approached you-“ thrust “I just wanted to bend you over then and there, right infront of everyone. To think you would have liked it?” thrust. “All mine,” he growls possessively. You can’t think about anything other than the delicious stretch in your core caused by the handsome man in front of you. Seeing your comfort, Taehyun begins to rut into you more hurriedly. He pins your arms to your sides and looked into your eyes as he wrecked you. “Mine, mine mine mine,” he keeps babbling, mouth hung open in ecstasy. An intense feeling begins to build up in your core, causing you to squirm under his touch, tears streaming down your face. “You gonna come for me? Gonna make sure no man can touch you like this? Fuck-“ Taehyun says as his hips stutter, signifying his approaching release. With a strangled moan, you come around him, hips bucking as he holds you in place and continues his harsh pace. “All mine” he moans out again. “Gonna fill you up, make you mine forever, princess.” He says looking lovingly into your eyes. With a final thrust, he spills his seed inside of you, successfully claiming you as his. Taehyun pulls out of you, watching his seed spill onto your sheets. He takes his ruined glove out of your mouth and kisses you lovingly. 

“I’d stop at nothing to marry you.”

The following day, you get approval from your father. I mean, there’s no real reason for him to say no. You were ecstatic. Being granted the opportunity to marry for love was a rare occurrence in nobility after all.

From now on, you’d be living life full of Kang Taehyun’s “love”, and he’d make sure of it. 

✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

AN: can you guys tell I’ve been obsessed with historical manhwa? (｡>﹏<)

[dearly-somber]

Birthday Boy | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. tooth rotting domestic fluff, birthday celebration, found-family, established relationship

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 846

-> warnings. Kinda suggestive at the start 😭👍🏻

-> a/n. Self-indulgent birthday JK fic <33

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Sun., Sept. 1st, 2024 @ 09:41

-> fin. Sun., Sept. 1st, 2024 @ 16:55

-> edited. Sun., Sept. 1st, 2024 @ 18:46

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn, @saradika-graphics

Jungkook wakes to the unmistakable feel of your lips around his earlobe.

“Mmng…”

Your giggles tickle his ear as you trail your lips over the underside of his jaw, dotting wet little kisses all across his throat. “Morning.”

Jungkook hums appreciatively, tilting his head back for easier access, his hands making their way to your hips when you give his Adam’s apple a sweet little nip.

“Bunny,” he mumbles, forcing himself to slow-blink his eyes open.

“Mm?” You kiss him (finally), gently pulling his lower lip between your teeth before leaning back down to press your foreheads together, mouths a hairsbreadth apart.

This is Jungkook’s favorite thing, he thinks. He wishes he could stay in bed with you forever… but, knowing you, you definitely had something a little extra prepared.

He smiles into your mouth, giving you a quick peck before leaning up to nuzzle against your cheek. “G’morning,” he sighs contentedly.

You giggle again, using his chest to push yourself up into a sitting position. “Sleep well?”

He nods, laughing when you smooth over his hair with your hands, cupping and squeezing his cheeks together while growling about your cuteness-aggression.

“Thank you,” he mutters through forced duck-lips, rubbing gentle circles against your exposed hips.

You frown. “For?”

“Gift,” he says. “Waking up like this…”

You scoff, gently smacking his chest before swinging your legs over the side of the bed like you’re dismounting a horse, pulling your (his) shirt down over your stomach so it rests across your thighs. “Idiot. This is a cherry on top.”

You walk across the room, rummaging around the drawer for a pair of shorts. “Get up and get ready.”

Jungkook frowns as he sits up, picking the sand from the corners of his eyes. “Huh?”

“We’re going shopping.”

“Isn’t that something you’d wanna do for your birthday?”

“Har-har, babe. Very funny.”

Jungkook grins, watching you with sparkling eyes as you come back to him, grabbing his jaw between your fingers and giving his puckered lips a firm smooch. “I got us tickets to Deadpool and Wolverine.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕

“The Honda Odyssey fucked hard,” Jungkook gushes, swinging your hands back and forth as he takes a bite out of his ice cream.

You laugh fondly, biting into your sweet sugary cone. “The choreography was phenomenal,” you agree.

“Right?! Ugh—“ He kisses your cheek, pulling away with a cute little mwah that makes you involuntarily smile. “Thank you so much for today. Seriously. I couldn’t have asked for anything better.” He smiles and squeezes your intertwined hands, taking another bite out of his ice cream.

“Always, Kook.”

He briefly lets go of your hand to reach into your back pocket for the apartment keys, twisting it in the lock and pushing it open while trying to catch the melting ice cream on his tongue, giving you a sly grin over his shoulder.

“Although, I might have one other thing in mind for tonight—“

“Surprise!”

Jungkook flinches in surprise as the apartment lights flash on, party streamers flying across the room as the pack come jumping out behind every nook and cranny they managed to squeeze themselves into.

“Happy birthday, brat,” Jennie grabs Jungkook by his neck and digs her knuckles into his head, laughing as Rosé pulls her off so she and Lisa can wrap their arms around him.

Jisoo fondly shakes her head, giving the younger girls a chance to finish greeting their maknae before hugging him herself, followed quickly by Taehyung, Jimin and Hoseok who all collectively dogpile Jungkook (so much so that he nearly falls over).

You laugh as you close the door behind you, watching with a burning heart as the pack envelop him in their arms, loud and rowdy and full of love.

“Yah! Make room, you rascals! Stop hogging my son!”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, the tears that’d been slowly building in the corners of his eyes finally flowing down his cheeks at the sight of his mom and dad.

“Eomma,” he whispers, falling into her arms as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, cooing at him like all mothers do.

He pulls away and grasps onto his dad’s shoulder as his mom wipes at his tears, scolding him for making her emotional. “Appa,” he sniffles, hugging them both again, his dad laughing as he tries not to cry himself.

They hadn’t been able to see each other in months, and Jungkook had seemed so sad when they said they wouldn’t be able to make it. You couldn’t let that happen, so you pulled a few strings to get them off work and up to Seoul.

You can’t help the strong pulling sensation in your chest, your love for this family so close to spraying out of you in a wave of bright, iridescent light.

And despite the tears streaking across his cheeks, Jungkook’s happiness radiates like a sun radiates heat—strong and all encompassing.

He looks at you over his father’s shoulder, a tearful, loving smile on his face. Thank you, he mouths. I love you.

I love you, you whisper.

Happy birthday.

[hyukascampfire]

TO: SOMEONE FROM A WARM CLIMATE ... ❨ O2 ❩ ⸺ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘵

𝓘N WHICH 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗓𝗓𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾. "𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾, 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎?" 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗎𝗉 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗉. "𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝗍," 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗌. "say what i am."

faerie!𝗍𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇 ╱ faerie!𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗇 · ƒ ! r 17.5k 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗒 ⸺ violence (stabbing... twice..), a dead animal appears in a scene, fem reader, mentions of past family trauma, cunnilingus, overstimulation, unprotected sex ｡ ( playlist )

← rꫀׁׅܻblogs & asks arꫀׁׅܻ always apprꫀׁׅܻciatꫀׁׅܻd! ♡(ᗒᗣᗕ )՞ →

🪶 ⦂ I have so much in store for you. I was hunched over my desk writing this like a scientist mixing their chemicals.

It’s more difficult than you had anticipated to keep your mouth shut about what had happened, but Taehyun stays quiet, so you do too. You make yourself useful, packing up with him, hoping to ease the palpable tension.  

Insecurities whisper in your ears that the kiss was just… disappointing to him. It was your first kiss, anyway. The feel of his lips on yours is brutally seared into your mind. You hope your mouth harasses his mind as much as his does yours. You can’t let that fester for too long, though. You have a lot to do to become a useful spy. Your inadequacy is why you’re even here, traveling in silence next to Taehyun, heading north. You’re not sure why they decided to throw you to the wolves for your first assignment, but there has to be a reason. You can only throw yourself more fully into improving your skillset. 

You decide on trying to cut the nagging tension with words. You’ve walked for hours with it looming in the air. But, it isn’t easy. You open your mouth to speak, closing it to rethink your words, and repeat a few times, before finally just saying, “What are we going to even be doing, when we reach the north?” You readjust your bag on your shoulders, its thick straps digging into the bone of your shoulder. The bag is heavier than it was yesterday. Everything is heavier today. Maybe it’s the realization that you’re progressing toward your dream, but it’s all hazier than you imagined it would be. Or, maybe, it’s the awful cold shoulder Taehyun is throwing at you.

“Do you know much about the Unseelie queen?” He asks. 

You shake your head. You know that her kingdom is revered as the most fearsome in Faerie, and you know that they hold a special brew of distaste for humans. But, you do not know much more. Your school lessons had, for reasons you could infer, brushed over the ice kingdom only very briefly. The folk prefer that humans don’t see those sides of this world. Not for your peace of mind—but, because it keeps you complacent. It’s not like you don’t see it, anyway. You know the evils of this world well.

“You need to be careful when we get there. Things get rough for humans up there. You need to remember that you can’t trust the words that come from their mouths.” 

How long until snow powders the ground? The scenery around you has already grown wintry—trees are sparse, and foliage is hardier. It all is so much more muted. Probably not too long. 

“We’re going to be infiltrating The Queen’s Court. She’s always pledged allegiance to him, but The King wants eyes and ears in the north.”

The King thinks that she’s going behind his back? There’s more in this world that you are oblivious to than you imagined. You’ve been under the impression that the Northern Queen was starkly allegiant to The High King. It makes sense, though. There isn’t much incentive to keep humans in the know on faerie politics when you’re just here to be working bodies. “Does he have any reason to believe that?” you ask. It would be nice to have some more information. 

Taehyun explains, “The Northern Court and High Court have had a history of tension. It’s why it became a tradition to send their children to intermingle with each other’s courts. However, the Queen hasn’t upheld that tradition for at least the past hundred years.” An extra chilly breeze licks at your cheeks, and you shiver. You are definitely making progress northward. 

“So, he risks the lives of his heirs?” you ask, pursing your lips. If the northern court is supposed to be so vicious, you cannot imagine why The King would even consider it, especially if relations are supposed to be so strained.

“The Queen would not outright harm them. She values the power that his alliance gives her too much, and she would lose the war that would follow. She is the scheming type.” Taehyun tugs up the hood of his cloak to keep the wind from chapping his skin, and you do so with yours as well. “Which is why we’re going up there in the first place.” 

You acknowledge his answer with a nod. The wind whips past you, and you have to fight it to keep your eyes open. You would appreciate the accompanying snowfall if it was not blowing wildly down on you and stinging your cheeks. With a flex of your fingers, you confirm that they’re still mobile, but they’re lethargic and locked up in the cold. A powdery layer of snow builds on the ground, and you curse it for the way it has your toes freezing through even your leather boots. 

“Can,”—Your teeth chatter—“Can we get a fire going, or something?” 

You catch a glimpse of his face under his hood as he turns to you. His nose and cheeks are rosy, but it seems that the cold affects him less than it does you. The snow is high enough now that you have to drag your feet through with each forward step. Is the rest of the way going to be like this? You might freeze to death, then. 

“We’ve got a bit of time. Let’s get as far as we can, before stopping.” 

You roll your eyes. Maybe he wants you to freeze to death, and then he could be freed from any trace of what had happened last night. You bring your hands to your mouth and let out warm puffs of air as if it would thaw out your poor hands and nose. 

Your mouth struggles to even form words.“I would appreciate living to see tomorrow,” you say slowly. You still lace it with plenty of attitude.

Taehyun doesn’t respond. 

❆

Taehyun curses as visibility wanes to only a few feet. All that lays in your path is whipping snow and haze. 

Your boot catches on something beneath the snow, and you tumble. Frigid snow and ice shards greet you on the ground, biting your skin. Looking up, you find Taehyun gone. He has to be at least somewhere in the gray haze around you; it’s only been a few seconds. If you can’t find him, you’ll die here. That isn’t up for debate.

 “Taehyun?” you shout, your voice muffled and carried away by the howling wind. 

You stay where you are, but lift yourself from the ground. You can’t start wandering blindly, you’ll end up separating further from him.

He calls your name, but it’s distant. 

“Here,” you say, “I’m over here!” 

There are many ways that you do not want to die, but you especially do not want to die like this. Your throat tightens the longer he doesn’t respond. 

“Taehyun?” 

He appears through the veil of snow and haze. A cry erupts from your throat, your voice breaking with relief. He takes you by the arm and tugs you behind him wordlessly, searching for something.

“I thought I was dead,” you say to the air, but it mostly drowns you out. 

“I know.” His voice is thick. “I did too.” 

He finds whatever it is that he seems to be searching for, and you might cry as you recognize the rocky opening to be a cavemouth. You won’t be dying today, at least. 

“I’m going to start a fire,” Taehyun announces only moments after you both duck under the low cavemouth and step into the refuge of the cave walls.

“You’ll get lost.” It’s true, but you also just cannot stand the idea of sitting in this cave alone for any extended amount of time. Your hand is barely visible in front of you, and it’s only getting darker as the blizzard grows thicker outside. 

“I’ll be fine. You’re going to freeze to death without it,” he says, before he dips out, leaving you alone and shivering. He could’ve at least given you a second to protest.

You’re not usually too scared of the dark, but you do press your back to the wall, decorated with liverwort, and sit. Getting separated earlier nags at your mind. You have to remember that you aren’t safe. A line of work like this guarantees it. You could easily have become a body losing heat out in that flurry of wind and snow. You would’ve died before ever seeing the fruits of what you could make of yourself; would’ve died living an insignificant life. Some jaded part of you wonders what Taehyun might’ve felt if you had. Would he move on with this assignment without delay?

At least the wind is no longer circulating about the cave and producing the howl that has been haunting you. There are no such wintry winds to freeze up your extremities in here, but it’s still cold enough to have you shuddering and tucking your hands underneath your knees to ration your warmth. 

Will you even be able to make it all the way to the Northern Court? You imagine telling Taehyun that you can’t handle it, or that you’re going back, and you imagine the look that would fall over his face. No. You’d become a statue of ice, frozen forever at a crossroads between a meaningless life and new beginnings, before that. 

The cold beckons you to sleep, and the aching in your tired back and limbs say that sleep is a splendid idea, but you resist. You need to see him return so that you know that a fire will warm your aching bones to sleep. But you are so cold, and sleeping it away sounds so nice… 

Your eyelids are heavy, and it’s harder to keep them open than it is to just let them fall. Your veins are sluggish with the cold.

When your head drops, you’re brought back to consciousness, but it’s so, so cold when you’re awake. It’s so cold that it burns. Even your lungs are slow and weary. 

You are so cold that you can no longer shiver. 

Something is muffled and shuffling beyond your huddle, but you can’t rally the energy to worry about it. You hang suspended between dream and consciousness. You want both so badly.

Taehyun curses. “I need you to stay awake,” He says. You can only muster a nod for him. Your eyes protest as you hold them open, watching Taehyun hastily sparking up a fire. He strikes rocks against each other, growing more frustrated each time a spark doesn’t catch. When one does, the flame starts slowly on the snow-wetted wood. Your skin tingles under the warmth radiating from it. The roiling flame is intense, having been cold for so long. 

You bask in the fire’s flickering light. Movement comes easier to your limbs as you defrost. Taehyun produces a few hardy roots and skins them with a dagger that glints in the low light, then sets them to roast over the flame. 

“How did you find those?” you say. It was hard to even walk out there, and you’re sure it had gotten worse while he was out. How would he even find them under the snowpiles, unless he knew where to look?

He gives you a long look, as if considering something. “Just got lucky digging through the snow while I was looking for the wood.” 

That explanation doesn’t make sense; finding three subsurface roots underneath thick snow is different from finding hunks of wood protruding from it. It might be the truth, but you decide to ask, “Under the snow?” 

Fire crackling is the only sound to fill the silent moment as he doesn’t answer. Well, if you weren't already iffy, you are now. He watches the flames prance around for a charged moment, the reflection of it shimmering in his dark eyes. 

“I’m from the north,” he finally says. You frown. Why hadn’t he just said that in the first place? 

“Is that why your ears aren’t pointed?” you ask, sitting up a bit. He pulls the roots, lightly toasted, off the fire. 

His gaze rips away from the flame, landing on you. His eyes are a little too intense for such a simple question. “No,” he says.  His behavior tickles a curious part of you; if you’re going to be on this assignment together for so many weeks, then it’s best to get to know each other. You also have been intensely curious about his ears from the moment you noticed their curvature. It’s odd to see fundamentally human features on a faerie. 

You don’t mean to be overly invasive, though, and you feel bad for prodding so much as his face hardens. You hadn’t thought too much about why it might be a sensitive subject for him; you just wanted to satisfy your curiosity. You’re seconds from telling him that you like his ears, but he speaks before you can. 

“My mother was human,” he says, his eyes trained on the cave floor in front of him. He’s half human? That’s why he’s so averse to mentioning his ears—he’s embarrassed by his human mother. You stew over that. If he dislikes his mother for her humanity, it explains how he has acted concerning you. You pity him, though. It would be difficult to belong anywhere with that specific mix of blood: humanity fears him, and Faerie does not treat half-blooded faeries as truly its own.

“She hid herself away when she found she was pregnant, and gave birth to me where she thought she would be safest. She knew what my father would do. He found her eventually. He killed her because she was dirt on his name. He couldn’t kill me, though.” Your stomach does a sickened flip. You know that, by faerie honor, he would have to raise Taehyun.

“I’m so sorry, Taehyun,” you say. He just presses his lips thin and hands you a roasted root to eat. 

“I hated him for it more each day, so one day I took a blade to my ears and made sure I never resembled him again. At least, in that way.” Your heart lurches. The thought of him carving off the points of his ears to spite his dad… He had maimed himself, and you’ve been poking and prodding him about it. You wince.

You want to apologize again, but you have a feeling that he doesn’t want any more apologies, and you don’t know him well enough to comfort him in any meaningful way. Instead of saying something that you’re sure will ring hollow, you say, “The faerie that stole me from my parents was a seamstress. She wanted a human girl to work her shop for her, without having to pay wages like she would for a faerie. It was taxing work, even when I was this tall,”—you denote the height of a child six or seven years old with your hand—“Maybe she just didn’t know what it means to raise a human child, but she wasn’t the best replacement for parents. She knew that I needed to be fed at least regularly, and provided everything I needed for hygiene, but she didn’t know that I needed a mother. She gave me an education, and I know that humans here don’t usually get that. I’m grateful for it—I really, really am, but it’s just… The fact that it was more for her own benefit than out of the goodness of her heart…” 

Taehyun listens, his eyes reflecting the oranges and yellows of the fire. You know that you’re rambling. “Sorry. What I’m trying to say is… I guess…” You hope the yellow glow of the flames is enough to disguise your embarrassment, and also that he doesn’t think you’re trying to upstage him. You just feel wretched for putting him in a position where he had to surrender such dark memories to you.

He doesn’t say anything, taking a root from the fire for himself and biting into it. 

You bite into the fat, tuber-like root too, appreciating its nutty flavor, and you embrace the silence that grips the cave. Only the garbling of the fire speaks, but it is a comfortable quiet. 

❆

The snowstorm must’ve died down while you slept, because the snow isn’t too much higher when you and Taehyun set back out the next day. It’s a bit of a drag to fight the mountains of snow it left with each step, but you don’t complain. 

Sunlight shimmers off ice crystals and sends droplets down from snow-dusted branches and to your cheeks. Every breath into your lungs is crisp, but you have bundled yourself in the thermal clothing from the bag Taehyun had packed for you, so you’re mostly comfortable. At least your fingers and toes are mobile now. 

Taehyun says that you have less than a day until you’re there. You repeat that like a mantra in your head as your feet ache with the strain of traveling so far by foot. He hasn’t said much else since, though, and you wonder if it has anything to do with last night’s topics of choice. His shoulders are as tense as his demeanor. 

It’s getting boring walking for hours on end, and Taehyun isn’t the most talkative. The most you get for entertainment is your thoughts and watching the scenery change. So, you decide to put this time to use. You apply the silent walking technique that he had taught you despite how awfully your feet ache. It’s harder in the snow, but you’re better off knowing how to do it even in extraneous circumstances. You don’t know all that you’ll be facing in the north. Sliding your sword off your back, you realize how much it had been dragging your back down. No wonder your spine aches…. You practice swings and jabs, still sloppy with inexperience. 

Taehyun hears you, and says over his shoulder, “Don’t push yourself today. You were close to freezing to death last night, just recharge your energy.” 

Was it so bad? You know you had gotten pretty cold, but you feel fine now. “I was just exhausted, not freezing. We walked forever yesterday.” 

You continue trying to get used to the weight of a sword in your hands. 

Trees start coming fewer and farther between, and though the snow on the ground grows lower, it is crusted over in an icy layer that you have to break through with each step. Everything is sharper and more icy, less fluffy and light. Icicles drip from trees so sharp they could substitute for a weapon. You put away your sword; the ground is slick, and you’ll fall if you don’t think your steps through. You’ve got to be in the Northern Kingdom, now. 

You walk like this for a while longer, only sparse trees and shrubbery, until an estate standing tall on the snowy flat peeks through the midday haze. An ancient and gnarled blackthorn tree sits proud on the estate’s grounds. Its spiny branches, bare of any fruit or leaf, twist among themselves. They remind you of impish claws.

Taehyun is heading straight for the estate. 

“Are we about to meet somebody?” you ask, closing the distance between you with a little jog. 

He shakes his head. “It’s my father’s residence.” 

You stop, and he makes it a few steps ahead of you before he realizes. “We’re meeting your father?” you say. The thought turns your mouth to cotton. He had killed Taehyun’s human mother. Faerie hospitality doesn’t seem to mean much to him, and you don’t think he’ll like you much.

Taehyun’s brow creases. “What? No,” he says, looking back at the estate. “He’s been dead for a while.” 

You reign in the relief that you feel, but that tidbit of information renders you curious again. Faeries don’t die of old age. How had he died? Is Taehyun pleased that he’s gone?

“Oh,” you say, not pushing it. You learned that lesson yesterday. “Good, ‘cause I’m not in any shape to be meeting anybody right now.” You drag your fingers through your knotty and tousled hair to make a statement. It’s wet in some places, where snowflakes found their way to your head and melted there. You’re sure it looks even worse than it feels. “Are we staying here, then?” You could use someplace to make yourself look less like you’ve just traveled three straight days, and it’s relatively optimistic that the sizable estate ahead of you has what you might need. 

Taehyun hums in confirmation. 

You approach the heavy ironwood front doors, and you gape at the wood interior and high ceilings. Nut-hatch’s humble cottage was more than the roaming life the wilder fae prefer, but it pales next to this. Charcoal-black banners hang down from the mezzanine and are embroidered with silver into a family crest that resembles the blackthorn tree that sits on the grounds outside.  

“Who, exactly, was your father?” you ask, running fingers along the top of the dusty dining table that sits center of the estate. The sight of the empty chairs that encircle it is almost mournful.

Taehyun doesn’t answer, and when you look for him to see why, he is planted to the floor. A muscle feathers in his jaw as takes in the estate.

“He was general of The Queen’s guard. And, I guess, also a lord in her court.” There’s icy distance in his voice.

This is absolutely the estate of an esteemed general and lord if you’ve ever seen one. 

“Anywhere for me to clean up?” you ask. You don’t want to intrude on whatever he’s dealing with returning here.

He nods, pointing up to the mezzanine floor where the walls are lined with doors. “There should be some stuff left over. You can use whatever you find.” 

You follow him as he leads to a room. As you draw yourself a bath with water warmed over a fire stove, you cannot help but wonder what awful memories this place might hold for him in its ornate, wooden walls.

❆

Waking up in the warm sheets of a plush bed was a soothing balm for your aching joints and bones. Your hair is fresh and perfumed with the soaps and powdery-scented oils left over in the bathing room. You delighted in brushing out the tangles. The estate is full of pleasures that only the gentry could find mundane; you, on the other hand, are only left scheming how you might make this life your own. 

You don’t see much of Taehyun all day, until he pokes into the bedroom you’re staying in and informs you that you’re attending Court tonight, and though you’ve known for a while now, a thick ball of nerves coils up in your stomach. 

You unstring your travel bag, worrying that you’ll have to wear what you arrived here in, but Taehyun had packed accordingly. You tug out a mute dress, beige in color, and embroidered in the bodice and skirt of it with bronze threads. The short, puffed sleeves are pretty. There isn’t much to decorate yourself with, no pretty pins or silk shoes in the dressing tables or wardrobes, so you just wear your hair as it is and lace up your traveling boots for footwear. You find yourself in the mirror to be prettier than you’ve ever looked. Any dresses you’ve had access to in your life have been largely unspecial, and they marked you as a human servant. Even nakedness, in the land of Faerie, is more ornate than those kinds of dresses.

You hold the skirts of your dress up and above your feet so that it does not tread on wet snow and dirt as you and Taehyun leave the estate for Court. The knots in your stomach don’t let up any. You know you’ll stick out as a human, that’s a given, but you are deeply terrified you’re going to make a fool out of yourself by forgoing some unspoken faerie revel rule. You can’t compromise your assignment. Does Taehyun know you’ve never partied alongside the fae? Humans often attend faerie revels in the High King’s court, but are they even allowed to do so here?

Taehyun is dressed lavishly, clad in black from head to foot, and he wears a sleeved doublet encrusted with shimmering black beads and threads that glitter in the moon’s light. He wears the black fur pelt of some beast around the collar of his neck. He resembles entirely the son of a general. You feel plain, next to him. 

“What do I do when we get there?” you ask, stepping around a puddle encased in a thin layer of cracked ice.

“The King wants to know if anything is going on, so you need to just listen. Look around a little, talk to people you think are interesting, and go from there.” 

Sounds simple enough. 

A thick forest surrounds the snowy flat that Taehyun’s estate sits on, and as you approach it, Taehyun says, “When we’re there, you can’t dance, no matter how badly you’ll want to.” 

“I won’t.” You reassure him, but you’ll just run on the hope that Taehyun sticks near you. Faerie celebration is untamed, and if a human happens to dance among them, they will not be able to regain control over themselves until a faerie takes pity and pulls them out. That isn’t usually the case, though. The folk delight in seeing humans lose themselves to the abundance of faerie delights. 

Taehyun accepts your answer, but he stops at one of the many wax-leaved holly trees and plucks a few jewel-red berries from their branches. Holly berries are faerie wards, and humans often carry a handful of them in their pockets to protect themselves from simple faerie glamours. 

“I don’t have anywhere to keep them,” you say, taking the berries he drops into your hands. You feel around your dress to reaffirm that it doesn’t have any hidden pockets or pouches. None. 

He produces a needle and some twine thread, offering it to you. 

“What?” you say, a little lost. Obviously, he wants you to do something with it, because the berry’s juices would burn him, but you’re not exactly sure what. 

“String the berries on it, and then I’ll show you.” 

You purse your lips and do so as you continue on your way to the revel. Some squish as you do, but you tug them down the thread anyway. The thread seems long enough to wear as a necklace. 

When you’re done stringing the berries, you look up to find that you’ve arrived. You admire how The Queen’s hall of revelries is not even a true hall, and is instead formed with tree trunks for walls and their branches for ceilings. Off-kilter faerie music twists and turns and floats alive in the air; the lilting flutes urge your limbs to move. Maybe it’ll be more difficult to stay off the dancing floor than you had initially anticipated. 

Taking the strung berries from your hands, Taehyun gives you a look that you yet again cannot decipher before walking around you. He takes the top section of your hair into his hands. 

“What are you doing?” you say. 

He sections the hair into two and spins the pieces before pinning them in place. He continues fiddling with it for a bit, tugging something around and in between the hair, and then steps away. You feel your hair. He had pinned the hair into a half-updo with an ornamental hair comb and braided the berry string through it as a ward that doubles as a pretty hairstyle. It’s a fairly intricate hairstyle.

“How’d you learn to do hair?” you ask, spinning to face him. 

He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s intuitive.” 

You laugh a nose-crinkling laugh for the first time in a while and take him by the elbow to drag him toward the reverie ahead of you. 

❆

You stand eating fruity delicacies and glazed meats off banquet tables, to curb your anxieties. There is plenty to enjoy—throngs of faeries dancing like nobody's watching to the rich song of the fiddle, long tables surrounded by chatting folk and rendered full with the plumpest of fruits and blocks of various cheeses. You had worried that you would stick out as a human attending Court in the north, but you have quickly realized that most are more worried about sinking in the debauchery than ogling you. There are so many conversations to listen to, but you don’t have the slightest clue which to even begin with. The Queen does not make an appearance today, but you don’t know if she ever even does. 

You stand here, though, because Taehyun suggested it was best you split off and try to cover the most you can. You’ve been trying your best to strain your ear, but it all blurs into Court jargon to you. You inspect each of your snacks for the poisons Taehyun had taught you. It’s not like anybody cared enough to poison you, but Faerie courts are fickle. 

A tap on your shoulders has you turning around to face the most beautiful faerie man you have ever seen. His brown eyes twinkle under the chandeliers hanging from branches overhead as he regards you, as do the plethora of crystals sewn into his extravagant white get-up. You gulp down the last of the cheese block in your hand.

He smiles, the corners of his lips turned up in a cheeky tilt. “Are the snacks any good?” he says. 

It feels a bit odd that he’d be worrying what a human thinks of the food, but you reply anyway, “The cheese is fantastic.” 

He laughs, having just watched you gulp down the last bit of it. His honeyed laugh compels laughter from you, too. And, so quickly that you don’t notice it, the rest of the revelry fades around you. 

“Do you want to dance?” he says, gesturing over at the whirling sea of faeries. He holds himself with grace, down to his posture.

Your lips tug down into a disappointed frown. There are quite a few things you’re better off not doing here, but that is what you should do the least. “I don’t think I should.”

His eyes flicker with understanding, but his smile doesn’t falter any. “I’ll pull you out if it becomes too much,” he says. “I promise you that.” He presses a pristine hand over his chest, right at his heart, in testament to his sincerity. 

Well, his words are plain enough to know that he isn’t lying. But you’re not here to dance; you’re here to perform your duties. 

He can tell that you’re not convinced as he studies your face. “We can always stay here and enjoy these,”—he pops a cube of cheese in his mouth, so his next words are muffled—“No problem.”

His quickness to compromise is unfamiliar to you.“Let’s have some cheese.” You try to emulate his smile with your mouth, but you’re sure it looks better on him because he throws his head back and laughs. 

The more you study his features, the more you realize how reminiscent of a fox they are. “Can I ask your name, pretty?” he says. The sugary-sweet words taste good in your mouth, and they rot your inhibitions. You shouldn’t be sitting here twirling your hair. Where is Taehyun under this canopy of branches? You wonder if he’s catching any useful stuff. Guilt digs its claws at your skin. 

You flounder and try to catch your name as it seems to slip away from your mind and into the air. You’re not always this ditzy, it’s just that his sharp eyes and mouth confuse you. You tell him your name. 

“Are all human names as pretty as yours?” he says. He thinks your name is beautiful? Human names are unspirited and prone to repetition, not singular like a faerie name. 

You’re not sure how to respond, so you deflect. “What’s your’s?”

His black hair slides over his eyes as he tilts his head, eyes alight. He wears so much on his face. You’re wary, though. Maybe he is cunning like the fox, maybe his face tells you a different story than his mind. You worry again why he is sitting here making conversation with you.

“Yeonjun,” he says, and you try to remember when he had gotten so close.

“Well, Yeonjun,” you say, trying his name in your mouth. “I’m not the most interesting, so if you’re looking for entertainment, I don’t think you’ll find too much here.”

His eyes roam your face for a few heartbeats. “I think you’re plenty interesting. Maybe the most interesting lady this court has had the pleasure of keeping.” His use of the word lady, addressing you, feels good in a bittersweet way. You’re a far cry from a lady, but the sound of it settles deep in your bones and warms you. 

The way he sees your burning cheeks, and seems to delight in it, should alarm you. You know his words are saccharine. But, his attention is delicious. You find yourself hoping he’ll stay here and keep you company until the night is over. 

“Okay, now I know you’ve got to be up to something,” you say. 

He grins and, stepping back, says, “I’m going to go get something for you. Don’t move.” He slips through the gaps of chatting revelers before you can tell him that you won’t move; that you’ll be right here all night because you should be. Taehyun trusts that you’re doing your job. You sigh a breath, trying to force down the guilt that gnaws hungrily at you again. 

You make an effort to tune your ears into the conversations around you. There was so much you could’ve missed in the time you spent talking to Yeonjun. 

As you do, pair of frilly and silk-draped faerie girls, one with skin like white snow and crystalline wings at her back, and the other with hair inlaid with glittering strands of gold, approach the banquet table arm-in-arm. You hate the way their eyes land on you, and then on your awful dress. You hate the look they share, and the way one hoots at something the other says. Your skin burns with how you become something to laugh at. 

You don’t notice Yeonjun’s return until he steps in front of you, his hands full with a bounty of bonbons and indulgences from various tables throughout the hall. 

“I want you to try these,” he says. You shoot him a skeptical eye, raising a brow, to which he scoffs and says, “I just wanna know what you think. They’re my favorites.” 

You take a sweetmeat and place it in your mouth. Your brows shoot up at its full, mallow flavor. 

“You have a sweet tooth?” you ask, chomping on another. 

“You could say that,” he says. The flip of his words and the facetious raise of his brows make you feel that he isn’t just talking about confectionaries. You squirm a bit under his heavy gaze. 

You continue taste-testing the sweets he brought, but your mind keeps cruelly spinning the jeering of those faerie girls. You scorn your inadequacies; your inability to be a worthy spy, and your inability to ever fit in. It would be easier to act as one with the court and to coax out meaningful secrets if you look at least like you belong. However, Yeonjun seems like the only place you have to start. 

“You meant what you said about pulling me out if it becomes too much?” you say. 

Yeonjun doesn’t look at all taken aback by your words. He must’ve seen the way your eyes flickered over to the rambunctious dancefloor. “Of course. I won’t let you lose yourself, and nobody will touch a hair on your head.” 

“Let’s dance,” you say, and giddiness blooms wide in your chest. Is dancing among the faeries as enchanting as it's said to be? 

Here’s to finding out.

Yeonjun brings you to the dance floor, and he smiles down at you as you begin moving. Your limbs are heavy with hesitance. His hands find your waist, and the touch soaks up the stiffness right from you. Suddenly, you are alive in ways that you hadn’t known you could be before. Your boots slide over the packed earth, and he guides you to a rhythm that you can feel thrumming in your bloodstream. Yeonjun’s eyes are on your face. You can feel the other dancers all around you, and you brush up against some here and there, but you don’t mind much. You feel the music in your heartbeat. His fingertips dig divots into your skin, and it’s the only thing you can really feel. 

He leans in over your shoulder. “I heard what they said. Do you want dresses? I can give you dresses more beautiful than those girls could dream of wearing.” 

It takes the words a bit to cut through the fog in your head, but you narrow your eyes at him. “Is this one really so bad?”

He squeezes his eyes shut in a laugh, as if that were ridiculous, and then opens them to look you in your eyes. “Pretty, you’d look delightful even in your bare skin.” He tugs your bodies impossibly closer, melding them together into one spinning thing. “But, if what they said hurt you, I will give you whatever it is you ask for.”

Even in your hazy state, you know that doesn’t sound right. But, you don’t ask why he would bother with that, you only lose yourself further into his eyes. They devour you.

The music grows faster, and faster, and faster, coiling itself up and around your legs, willing them to dance for you. Yeonjun’s hands grab here and smoothe over there, exploring. Mapping. 

“Do you love it?” he asks.

“Yes,” you breathe. Your head is swimming, crashing through the throes of waves, and the undercurrent of panic only thrills you into dancing more. 

His eyes rove over you in a languid pass, before he kisses you like your lips are the sweet delicacies he so loves. You are as lost in his lips as you are the spirit of the dancefloor. His hot tongue explores and licks at your lips. The world swirls behind your eyes even as they are squeezed shut, but you welcome the dizzying nature of it. Your heart jumps from its cage in your chest as he brushes a hand along your collarbone, sliding it up the side of your neck, and then places it at the back of your head, pushing you further into his kiss. A vignette blurs your vision, lungs burning for air, but you can’t find it in you to care. 

You’re abruptly pulled from the messy tangle of galavanting bodies. Like if someone were to just halt the Earth’s spinning on its axis, your body reels. Your mind comes back to you, but it’s scattered, and your heart pounds like drumbeat in your head. 

Someone speaks. It’s Yeonjun’s voice. He situates you in between two of the pillar trees that make the walls of the hall, and you drag in the night air. It’s so fresh it burns your lungs a bit to breathe. 

“I feel like shit,” you say. Your heart is still running amok in your chest. 

He snorts. “Yeah, I bet. I’m sorry I didn’t notice that you were slipping earlier.”

You’re unsure how long you two danced, but the sky is breaking into day, so it had to have been for way longer than you remember. You groan. Taehyun has to be looking for you. Or, perhaps he left without you.

“Something wrong?” he asks, watching you recover.  

“No, no, I’m fine,” you say. “Thank you for that. I’ve never done anything like it.”  

His eyes crinkle. He really, really, is beautiful, down to the points of his ears. “You don’t need to thank me. Seeing you enjoy yourself like that was a sight for sore eyes.” 

You laugh a little, looking out at the way the sun crests over the horizon from your little hiding spot. The breeze does wonders in brushing up on your blazing skin and placating it. The thrill still lingering in you makes you wonder if you could claim such a life for yourself.

The sound of Taehyun’s voice saying your name rips out that seedling of hope, and stomps it down into the ground. It was a useless hope, anyway. As he approaches you, Yeonjun nods his head in greeting. Taehyun’s face is drawn, but he bows low at the waist. It’s quite a formal greeting. 

“It’s time to go,” Taehyun says, addressing you. His eyes are searching yours like he’s trying to find some answer in them. It seems he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. 

A crooked smile tugs at Yeonjun’s lips. “Is she under your care?” he asks. It’s a less direct way of asking: does she belong to you? 

Taehyun’s face morphs into something hard, but his words remain cordial. “Yes, she is.” You know he says it because it’s the best way to explain why a human would be attending Court, but for some reason, you had expected Taehyun to answer that a little differently. 

Taehyun gives you a meaningful look and tilts his head to the side in a silent way to say let’s go. You curtsy a farewell to Yeonjun, letting a soft smile onto your lips before you depart with Taehyun. Yeonjun doesn’t say anything at all, but you feel his eyes following you. 

You walk without words until you clear the hall and reach the forest, where the thicket can muffle your sensitive words and keep them just for you. “Did you find anything?” he says. His attention stays ahead, and his jaw is a bit strained. Here it comes; he saw you wasting time. 

“Nobody around me was talking about anything other than gossip until I ran into him. His name is—”

“I know who he is.” Taehyun snaps. “Please, enlighten me. What did you learn of him?” 

His words feel a bit like he’s spinning you a web. A trap. You don’t even have anything to offer him, because you hadn’t learned anything about Yeonjun.

“You made a promise to me. You promised you wouldn’t dance at all, and I find you dancing with The King’s son.” The world trembles underneath you at his words. You were flirting with a prince all night. You kissed a prince.

The dam of guilt and embarrassment and shame that has been filling you throughout the night crumbles and washes over you. “I didn’t mean to waste time, Taehyun. He just seemed like the most interesting person to talk to. I thought that maybe I could hear something interesting from him.” Your legs protest as you lift them to step over a tall bush. Dancing had exhausted you down to your marrow. “A prince seems like a pretty good place to find information, though.” 

“Does kissing him entail hearing something interesting from him?” His words are spat, and when he looks at you, his eyes hold distaste. So he saw that, too. 

You sigh. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, either.” 

“You didn’t mean for it to happen,” he echoes, scoffing the words. “You are nowhere near serious about this. Why are you even here? Well, let me tell you this; you did not come here to suck the faces of pretty princes. This life is not yours.” 

His words are everything you don’t want to hear, and they antagonize the anger in your chest where shame had previously sat. “It’s a little hard to do what you’re asking of me when you send me in looking like this,” you say, gesturing down at your get-up. 

“This is about a dress?” Taehyun says. “You don’t need all that. They’re just putting on a show.” He doesn’t say them, but he dances delicately around the words: You’re human.

You get up in front of him so that he has no choice but to look at you. “You know that I’m going in there at a disadvantage! You know that I can’t just blend in, and it’s so much harder when I look like this.” You point your finger at him accusatorily. “And, did you even get anything? You’re sitting here, picking me apart, but really, what did you do?” 

He doesn’t respond. 

“Oh, that’s rich,” you say, tone mocking. 

“The difference,”—he says his words slow—“Is that I didn’t use the night to enjoy myself in snacks and courting ladies.” 

“That’s because you spent your night watching me,” you snap. If he was even trying to pick up information, he wouldn’t have had his eyes on you the whole time. “You just wanted to catch something to give me shit about. Can you not see any value in following this thread? If Yeonjun is the king’s son, and he’s taken interest in me, imagine what I can catch hanging around him.” The estate appears on the snow flat as you two clear the forest. The sun hangs well in the sky, now. Ugly hurt twists in your chest. Yeah, you could’ve been more alert, but you can easily turn whatever you’ve got going on into something. 

Taehyun shakes his head at you. “I want you to remember this one thing, if you’re going to remember anything I tell you at all. The folk will never fail to make you into a spectacle. Your duties lie in The King, and only that.”

You walk the rest of the way to the estate, and then split off to your rooms, in an awful silence that sits itchy under your skin. It’s always silence, with Taehyun.

❆

Taehyun’s accusatory voice wakes you up from a hard slumber. You don’t have time to even blink out the sleep from your eyes as he roars, and you listen.

“You had him send you dresses?” There is a scorching flame blazing in his eyes, and they blister you.

“Huh?” 

His face is pulled into a sneer. “You had the prince send you dresses because you decided you wanted pretty things? What are you doing?” He holds a silvery, glittering gown in one arm.

His words remind you of what Yeonjun had said to you last night, and you curse. How would he even know where to send them? 

“I didn’t ask him to do anything,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Don’t lie to me.” 

“I’m telling you that I didn’t, and I mean it! I didn’t ask him to send me dresses.” You slink out of the mess of a bed, the wood flooring cold under your feet.

“So a royal errand runner shows up at the door, with a pile of dresses directly addressed to you, and I’m supposed to believe that it’s random?” 

“Why don’t you just believe me?” you ask, and the words sound pathetic even to you as they leave your mouth. “We’re supposed to be partners. You’re supposed to believe me.”

Rage dissolves from his face, but his features don’t soften. No, instead, they harden into stone. You almost wish they would twist back into fury. You can work with anger. But, whatever this thing that he does is, it leaves you unable to crack through his hardened exterior. 

“Take your shit,” he growls, tossing the dress in his arm at you, and then spinning around without care of where it lands. 

“I don’t want this, send it back to him,” you say. You go to throw the dress back at him, but his words stop you. 

“I already sent them back.”

You watch him storm out. That means that the dress in your hands is not from Yeonjun; it is from Taehyun.

❆

You hold up the gown in front of you. Looking at the sheer material of it, embellished with beads and crystals that remind you of snowflakes in the sky, feels bitter. It only reminds you of the nasty terms you and Taehyun are on. 

You haven’t seen him once today, and you assume you’re going to be heading to Court alone, too. All you can feel is resentment. 

You go about getting ready with a ten-pound weight in your mind, and Taehyun is as absent as you had imagined he’d be when you leave the estate for Court. The walk feels a bit longer this time. Though you didn’t talk much last night, the presence of Taehyun just being there was enough to ground your nerves.

All is the same as last night in the hall. The tittering of folk and the lovely aroma of burning incense spices the air, and the music is just as inviting. You find that secluded spot Yeonjun had taken you last night when he pulled you out of the crowd and lean into the tree. Tonight, you’re going to just watch which faeries interact. The more you know about who associates with who, the more you’ll be able to dissect your priorities. 

Your eyes fall over the throngs, and a majority you remember from last night, but some are new. These folk all have to be important in some capacity; they wouldn’t have a place in Court otherwise. If you look hard enough, maybe you can find who is the most important. It doesn’t help, though, that you’re not familiar with important figures in the Northern Court. Taehyun forgets that he was born into this Court, and you are a foreign human girl. You may be better off playing into your ability to lie; maybe you should spin up a good falsity and ask around with it. 

You’re halfway to the crowd with the intent to poke around when Yeonjun steps into your line of vision. His wry smile is inviting, but you can’t do this again. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” he says. “But, I don’t recognize that dress.” He looks you over. 

“You didn’t tell me who you were, last night,” you say, crossing your arms. 

Yeonjun’s suave falters. “Ah. He told you. Did he also not like me sending you those dresses? You sent them back.” 

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Please, I don’t appreciate being toyed with.” 

His lips tug into the first frown you’ve seen worn on his ethereal face. “You wound me. I don’t just send gifts like that to anybody. I’m not toying with you. Not even a little bit.”

You’re not sure what to make of his words. He seems like the type that, even when his lips can not form the shape of lies, he would hide them in between the gaps of truths. But you do see sincerity shining in his eyes. 

“I didn’t even get to see the dresses,” you say, relenting to the conversation. If he insists on making your company, you’ll entertain him. You wouldn’t dare shoo a prince away, anyway, and his words are a soothing balm to every thought that tugs at your mind. 

“Did he give you this one?” he asks, looking down at the glittering thing. 

You hum, nodding your head. You wonder if Taehyun has made it here tonight, or if he is even here at all. You’re going to put all your eggs in this basket. If it leads you nowhere, you’ll deal with that when you get there. You don’t know where else to start. 

“They’re all yours, whenever you decide you want them. Just come and ask me, sweet thing. I’ll even send you more if you want.” 

His words shoot a thrill through you, for whatever reason. It’s hard for you to imagine a life where those kinds of things can be given away so easily. 

“Do you want to dance tonight?” He says. His fingers are warm against your skin as he takes your upper arm into his hand. Each time he rubs his thumb over the skin there, it makes you shiver more than it soothes you. You don’t remember much of the time you had spent dancing last night, but you do remember his kiss.

You really can’t do that. You need to do something that keeps you present so that you can pick up on stuff. 

You tilt your head to one side and offer, “How about you show me around? I wanna see your hiding places. I know you’ve got some.” You smile a heart-felt smile; running around the hall and discovering the nooks and crannies Yeonjun hides away in actually sounds like fun. It’ll familiarize you with the layout of Court, as well.

Yeonjun agrees, his face lighting up. He brings you around to alcoves and hollows that you wouldn’t imagine even existed unless he was showing you. Leave it to a faerie to find little places to hide.

“How often do you come to the north?” you say. Taehyun had said that The King sends his heirs here for foreign relations. It must be why he’s here. 

Yeonjun pauses his touring. “Most of the year. My father prefers me here, so he sends me out often.” You’re a bit taken aback by how generous he is with the information. You had expected to sly-foot it from him. 

The King sounds like a paranoid, centuries-old man. Maybe you and Taehyun will find something in your time here that proves his fears right, though. It’s just as probable that tensions run deeper than you think.

“Why doesn’t he have The Queen send one of her children to his domain if it’s for diplomacy? It’s a bit strange that she swears fealty to him, but he’s the one sending his heirs out.” Also, why does he have you and Taehyun here, undercover, when his son is here already?

Yeonjun shushes you with a finger over his lips, and it reminds you that you can’t just say all that comes to your mind here. He doesn’t seem to take any offense, though. 

“The Queen doesn’t send her children out as emissaries.” His words take on a rueful, bitter note. The look plastered on his face says what his words don’t: The King does, though.

Yeonjun is good company, and you don’t notice how night bleeds into day. 

“I should probably go now,” you say. Your dress itches and your feet ache in a way that calls for the lush bed waiting for you back at the estate. The revelry is still very much alive and kicking, and the crowds haven’t even begun thinning, but they’re so drunk on pinot wines and faerie spirits that you doubt they even feel the toll the night is taking on their bodies.

He nods. “Let me walk you home?” He offers you an arm, his smile so very sweet. You would like nothing more than to have someone to accompany you on the trek home. The walk here had been dreadful in your loneliness.

You pretend to think about it for a minute, a teasing smile playing at your lips, before you say, “Why not?” 

He swipes a baked good topped with sweet fig from a platter for the journey, and begins heading for an exit between trees.

 “But!” you say, and he halts. Your eyes scan the crowd.

“What is it?” he asks, rejoining you. 

“I need to find Taehyun.” 

He offers you the delicacy in his hand. “Do you?” 

“Yeah. I need to tell him if I’m going to be leaving.” 

Yeonjun scoffs at that. He takes you by the arm and points out Taehyun in the crowd. He appears to be in conversation with a spindly, feather-skinned hob. “He’s right there. But, you’re not going to be doing all that. It’s not right that you have to report your every move to him. C’mon.” You know that he’s only saying it because he thinks that you’re Taehyun’s human servant, or something, but his words are simultaneously gratifying for your current woes.

Your laughs bounce off the darkwood trees as you walk shoulder-to-shoulder. Yeonjun has a way to him that makes you feel like you’re really living. Maybe you can let this hope fester. Maybe Yeonjun is genuinely courting you. And, you foolishly let yourself think, maybe you don’t need to be a spy to make something of yourself. 

When you make it to the door of the estate, Yeonjun is behind you, peppering warm kisses up and down your neck. You pry yourself from him to open the door, and you stumble in. You then stagger up the stairs and to your room. Yeonjun doesn’t make it any easier, roaming his hands everywhere they shouldn’t be. 

Yeonjun clicks the door shut behind himself, and your stomach drops seeing the unabated hunger written into his face as he turns and looks at you. 

You fizzle under his gaze. “Thanks for walking me,” you say. “That walk is scary alone.” 

“Turn around for me, pretty,” he says, his voice glazed with honey and sugary syrup. You do, heart thundering in your chest. Something in the deep pit of your mind feels guilt, but you don’t pay it enough mind to sort it out, you just suck in a breath and hold it as Yeonjun steps so close behind you that you can feel his breaths on your neck, and he starts working at the laces of your dress. He doesn’t lean forward and press any more kisses to your neck like you wish he would; he just undoes the ribbon, until the dress loosens on your body, and you have to hold it onto yourself. Should you drop it? Does he want you to drop it? Is he just toying with you?

A puff of air on your neck makes you shiver as he laughs softly, his face hovering over your shoulder. You wish you could see his face right now.

“You’re so tense,” he says into your ear. He takes the top of the dress into his own hands, sliding them under yours. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you breathe. Your heart is thrumming in your chest and your neck so hard that you hear it in your ears, and maybe even he can, too. He rubs a thumb over the skin where the dress starts to slip. 

“Tell me you want it.” 

You suck in a breath. “I want it.”

He begins letting the dress down, and you let him. Chills rise on your skin, both at the cold that meets your skin as it is freed to the air, and at the kisses and scrapes of his teeth at your now exposed shoulder. “Yeah? You want me to make you feel good?” he says, and you can hear the tease in it. His words douse you in flame.

“Yes, Yeonjun, please,” you say, and it sounds pathetic to your ears. He makes it so hard to sound like the confident spy that you’ve been trying so hard to convince yourself that you are.

The dress droops lower and lower on you, releasing your skin in tantalizingly slow increments. He’s in no rush. He just continues to pamper your skin with his tongue, nipping your ear here and nibbling at your shoulder blade there. Your mind unravels a bit more with each. 

The fabric finally pools at your ankles, and the both of you sit in an electrically charged moment. 

“Turn around. Let me see you.”

When your eyes meet his, your breath catches at the way he takes you in, but mostly at the way his eyes come back up and fix on yours with such depth that you feel it in the way your heartbeat skips. You resist every urge to cover yourself, ignoring the tensing of your muscles that tell you that you should run and hide yourself away. You can’t believe that such a beautiful creature is devouring you with his eyes like this; like he wants you, like it doesn’t matter one bit to him that you are so much less than him. And maybe it should. He’s a prince. A prince of the king that you are supposed to be serving right now.

He guides you by an arm around your waist to the bed, and then stands at the foot of it, looking down on you with hazy eyes. Your stomach flips, and your knees and thighs are pressed together. He drags his bottom lip into his teeth.

“Open your legs, baby. I want to see how much you need me.” He reaches down, patting at your knee.

You hesitate, but slowly pry your knees apart, letting him see the mess that had been brewing there. The cold air immediately brushes at the wetness, and it makes you feel impossibly more exposed.

“Fuck,” he says, dragging out the word like a hiss. The raw, ravenous look in his eyes reaches deep into an unwanted part of you, that had for so long believed that you’re not worthy of anything like this. You know that you’re still not worthy of it, but you’ll happily bask in its warmth while you have it.  “So wet,” he growls, eyeing your center without ceremony, as if those aren’t the most lewd words you’ve heard spoken aloud. “Pretty, you’re dripping all over your bedspread, and I haven’t even really touched you yet. Makes me wonder if you’ve ever even been touched before.” 

Your cheeks flame the more he stands over the foot of the bed, lazily drinking you in. You haven’t. You had your first kiss in the woods somewhere a few days ago. Flashes of those memories plague you for a second, of bark on your skin and Taehyun’s hand in your hair, and that guilt that you can’t seem to place tugs at you again. You need to forget about it; Taehyun doesn’t seem too caught up on it, so why should you be? Where is Taehyun right now?

“Has he touched you? Did you let him put his hands on your skin,”—he brushes a whisper of a touch on your inner thigh, so close to your center, yet not actually paying any attention to it—“like this?” The rush that shoots up your spine is lethal. He draws such intense feelings from you with the simplest of touches in a way that borders on scary. 

Oh, yeah. Yeonjun still thinks that you’re Taehyun’s human servant, or something. You decide to just lean into it. “Why would he?” you ask. 

“Because I saw the way he looked at me yesterday,” he says, and the plush of the bed dips as he settles his knees into it. He hovers over you, notched between your thighs. You knew the truth behind that look, though. Taehyun was livid at you, at how you had shirked your duties and danced all night. You don’t know how to convey that to Yeonjun, though. Any explanation would just lead to more questions you couldn’t answer. 

He plants a line of kisses up the length of your inner thigh, just where his hand had ghosted, and you wiggle your hips in anticipation as if it would move him any faster to where you need him most. It doesn’t, he only continues to antagonize your skin with his tongue and lips. 

“Please,” you breathe. Yeonjun’s lazy eyes flick up to yours from his place between your legs, and the sight makes the blood in your veins sing. 

“You want my mouth?” he says, sitting back up onto his knees and running a smooth hand from the wet patch of skin on your thigh up and over your hip bone, and then the softness of your stomach, and then he brushes a thumb over your breast. You struggle to breathe a bit as he does, and it’s exponentially harder to as his words ricochet in your ears, cutting through the fog of your mind. 

“Yes,” you say. You can’t muster anything else. A satisfied, lopsided smile plays at his lips, and he lets his thumb over your nipple, rolling it. 

“Do you realize how badly you’ve got me?” he muses. His gaze leaves your chest, opting for your eyes as he says it. “I want to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I’ll do anything, if you ask it of me.” The alarm bells ringing in your ears sound more like music than warning. It should sound like too much; you’d met him yesterday. He’s a faerie, you’re a human. His words are cloying; he’s lying. He’s lying.

But, he can’t lie.

He settles his head down, a breath’s-width from providing you with relief from the burning that he so cruelly kindled there. “Here? You want my mouth here?” The words puff onto you. You can feel your ears reddening; he seems to enjoy seeing you debased. It’s like he wants to be the source of your ruination.

“Yes, right there,” you say, toes curling in anticipation. He hums, taking the back of your thighs into his hands and pressing them up. It leaves you even more exposed to him. When the first contact of his mouth to your cunt comes, it’s with a barely there roll of your clit with his tongue, but it spreads like alcohol through your system. You mewl as he holds eye contact as if entranced with the way you react to him, and swirls his tongue around it. Your hands find perch in his hair.

He is wholly overwhelming you: his hands dig divots into your thighs to hold you open for him to eat, his eyes make sure you’re watching as he does, the sound he makes into your cunt. You don’t know what else to do, other than squirm on the sheets and chant nonsensical words. The more his mouth consumes you, the more it consumes your thoughts, until you are tunnel-visioned, only able to feel his touches. He runs his tongue down, and you gasp as it prods at your entrance, but he brings it back up, and then suckles at your clit some more. 

“More,” you say. 

He detaches from you for only a moment, just to ask, “More what?”—he pushes your thighs further up, molding them to your body—“More this?” He pushes his tongue into you, and then out. 

“Mhm!” you cry, digging your hands into his hair harder. He makes a low hum of satisfaction, slurping you up, lazed, as if you were a sweet sugarplum liqueur. A tense knot settles in your belly, sending your legs jittery even as he presses them, and your toes curling in the air. Your hips roll up and into the bed wildly, chasing that knot. “Yeonjun—”

Yeonjun knows what your cries mean, pulling from your hole, if only to suction his lips around your clit. It halts every thought and word in your mind, and the knot tightens so intensely with it that it snaps. You seize up in his hands and then explode in shakes and desperate whimpers. Your body rages, but your mind is suspended somewhere in the sky, removed from you. Yeonjun lavishes you through it, despite the way his tongue bumping into your sensitive spots has you jumping. His mouth follows your hips everywhere they go as you writhe to escape it; he isn’t letting you float down, he keeps your body on that high and builds on it. Your breaths come panted and whimpered. 

“Slow—slow down, ‘jun,” you say, pushing at his head. When he pulls off of you, the sight of you all over his mouth draws a moan from you. His tongue swipes at his lips. 

“You’re divine,” he purrs. “Did that feel good, sweet thing? Do you want more?” You lay, catching your breath, trying to let the waves of aftershock dissipate so that you can articulate yourself. You feel it still thrumming in the hollows of your bones. He skirts his thumb oh-so-lightly around your throbbing clit, and it’s no help in your efforts.

You nod. “I want to make you feel good, too.” You can’t fathom letting him please you like this without returning the favor. It would be so nice to see him fall apart, too.

“Yeah?” He drinks in your state. He stops circling his thumb to press it to your bud. You let out a surprised sound, your muscles coming back to life to jolt. He acts as though he’s thinking it over, but you can see the teasing lilt on his face. “Say my name again, pretty. It sounds loveliest on your tongue.”

“Yeonjun,” you indulge him. A content sparkle in his eyes tells you that he’s gonna give you what you want. He lets your thighs down, instead resting his weight on either side of your head, leaning down to capture your lips in a sultry kiss. He tugs your bottom lip into his mouth. The scrape of his teeth is dizzying. He’s freeing himself with one hand when he pulls back, and your spine tickles with anticipation until you see the look on his face.

 Is he suddenly disgusted with you? You can feel the color drain from your skin as you ask, voice thin, “What?” He climbs off of you, and you could throw up. “What is it?” 

“I think your friend is here,” he says, adjusting his clothes. Oh. Your mind wars between relief and terror knowing that, if Yeonjun knows Taehyun is here, Taehyun knows Yeonjun is here. Damn their superior hearing. 

You curse. “Go,” you urge, slipping out of bed with sticky thighs and stumbling to the wardrobe to source a shift dress to slip into. Yeonjun thumbs your chin, tugging your face to him, and presses a parting kiss into your lips. It lingers on your lips as he lets out a soft laugh, shoving open the window and disappearing through it. You roll your eyes, finding the image of him clambering down the tree to escape quite humorous. 

You clean up and settle into the bed. Is whatever you have going with Yeonjun sustainable? Echoes of Taehyun’s voice, vicious and tart, tell you that you should get it together; that you should nip this in the bud, and focus your energies elsewhere. You want so badly to make the little girl, snatched from her home, proud. You want to fulfill her dreams. But, you can’t shake yourself from whatever hold Yeonjun is securing over you. He so casually promises to give you everything you ever ask for; would you be stupid to ignore it? Is it naive to imagine that a man would say his words and mean it? A faerie, no less? 

You sink further as sleep calls you. If Taehyun knows that Yeonjun was here, or what you had done with him, he doesn’t show up to chew you out for it. You wish he would.

❆

The next few days blur into hours of Court spent around Yeonjun and his courtly friends. You try to glean as much information as you can from it, but really, it’s mostly nothing of any importance. You begin to think that Taehyun is right; that you shouldn’t be sticking your nose into the business of a prince. If Yeonjun were to ever find out your reasons for even attending Court… Your stomach does a sickened flip. He might hate you for lying, maybe even begin thinking that you have been using him.

You really do like Yeonjun, though. It’s not just that he’s an interesting thread to follow; he treats you like you’re no different from him. Your bruised and beaten heart clings to him, hoping he’ll soothe over all the years you spent insignificant and unloved. If anything ever comes of all of your stolen nights and kisses, he’d have to know eventually. It can’t be shoved down forever, though you truly wish it could. 

You sit at the ornamental vanity in your room, combing through your hair, when Taehyun makes an appearance at the door. You haven’t had even one conversation with him following the morning Yeonjun had those dresses sent to you.

“We’re not going to Court today,” he says, his arms crossed over his chest. His face is steely. 

“Oh?” You place the boar bristle brush down. “What are we doing, then?”

He studies the room you’ve been staying in. It looks an awful lot like he’s searching for something. His eyes linger on the bed. “I think I got something last night. We’re going check it out. You’re gonna need your weapons.” 

He’s gone from the room with that. The conversation was terse and majorly discourteous, but it’s the most you’ve seen of him in multiple days. You’ll take it. Maybe you’ll even have time to plead your case today, or some way to show him that you’ve been practicing your fighting stances and memorizing poisons on the days sleep doesn’t find you as easy.

You’ve armed yourself to the teeth by the time you meet Taehyun at the bottom of the stairs. He’s armed much lighter than you.

“Did I overdo it?” you say, slicing yourself some cheese to eat on bread.

He adjusts the blade sheathed at his hip, shaking his head. “That’s just fine.” 

You frown and bite into your breakfast. What kind of information could he have gotten yesterday? The need for weapons worries you.

You like to think that you’ve adjusted to the chill of the north by now, but as you break through an untrodden forest with brambles catching your legs in each step, it does nip at your skin. You’re still only human, after all, no matter how hard you pretend yourself to be a faerie lady in the Court. You’re still only a spy, you’re reminded, as the two of you come across a mound of packed dirt sitting atop the snowy ground. It’s marked as an entrance only by a hole that looks hand-dug. You’ve lived long enough in Faerie to know that it’s more than just any old dirt hill or foxhole. The folk dwell in odd places like these.

“When we get in there, I need you to pretend that you’re a human servant. Can you do that for me?” he says. You’re unsettled, but you nod.

 You head for the entrance first. It’s just big enough for you to slip a leg into, duck under, and wiggle in. The entrance opens up, and you’re sent sliding down a chute of twigs and dirt. It takes every bit of your willpower to not make a ruckus of shouts and gasps in your descent. When your feet meet the ground you stumble to steady yourself, you know you look a mess. Taehyun makes a much more graceful descent, and you explain away any mortification with the notion that Taehyun had been anticipating it.

A throaty voice hoots almost immediately, “So, great Lord Taehyun thinks to show his face at this honkey tonk?” 

So, this is that kind of place, then. The reek of ale and wilder spirits tells you enough. What does he think he’ll learn from a place like this? Clearly, he’s known in this place, too. You’re always left with more questions about Taehyun than answers.

Taehyun doesn’t pay the barkeep any mind. “Fetch me a drink,” he says, before leaving you as he cuts through the measly crowd of revelers drowning in their merriments. You narrow your eyes and brew with distaste at his words, but you know he needs you to play the part of demure servant. You don’t know exactly why, but you can do it for him; you’d lived the role your whole life.

You scurry off, shoulders curled in, to the barkeeping hob that stands pouring foamy goblets of honey mead from barrel taps. He eyes you. “Pity you, girl,” he says. “That one’s a real brute.” 

You infer that his words are about Taehyun. Really, you should just grab a drink and go, but curiosity compels you. The faerie laughs at the questions brimming in your eyes. 

“A real, stone-cold killer,” he drawls, twisting open a different barrel. You resist the eye-roll tugging at your eyes. He’s just looking to entertain himself off of your human fright. You feign hesitance in your limbs when you accept the goblet full for Taehyun. He goes to fill another, from a third barrel. “The House of Blackthorn are all such a frightful bunch. The late Lord even more so, but he sowed a good seed of wicked into his son, regardless.” The worry you let your features into is real this time. There’s so little you know about Taehyun; this is the first you’ve ever heard of him that isn’t directly from his mouth. Should you be scared of Taehyun? Ice runs in his veins, sure, but you can scarcely imagine him as a brutal Lord. 

“One mead for the Lord, and one sugar-sweet liqueur for the lady,” the hob says, handing the drinks to you. You offer him a meek, “Thank you.” 

He shoots you an unsavory, toothy grin. “Welcome to The Hovel.” 

You find Taehyun in conversation with a sweet-faced faerie boy who strums at a lute. Their conversation tapers off as you approach. You hand Taehyun’s drink off to him. 

“You’re sure of it?” Taehyun says to the boy. 

“Yup. Just last night,” the boy says. His waved mop of blonde hair moves as he nods. You see the cogs of Taehyun’s mind turning behind his eyes as the exchange comes to a close. So, the information he was following from last night came to fruition, then. You kick yourself for your lack of any real results.

“Who was that?” you ask, voice hushed. You tilt your head at the faerie as he rejoins the other musicians, and the stream of lute song intermingles with the other instruments once again. You pretend to sip from the drink the hob had given you for free, tipping it into the dirt when you think nobody is looking. You know it’s bad manners, especially in Faerie, but you have bigger fish to fry. Taehyun hadn’t paid that boy for that info, nor had he paid the tavernkeep for his drink. You recall the hob’s words of warning. They fear him. 

He shakes his head. “Let’s get out of here, first.” 

When fresh air meets your lungs, you realize how stale and muggy the air inside the little burrow is. You pull yourself out through the exit, following Taehyun. The two of you begin your battle against the wild forest again. 

“So…?” you say. 

It’s getting colder as night arrives. His breath puffs from his mouth, furling like smoke into the air as he says, “Apparently, there were some lackeys there last night asking around about me and a human girl in cahoots with The Prince.” 

Your mind launches into a frenzy. Do they know that you’re spies? How would they even know? It’s not like the two of you have even done anything to garner any suspicion. Whoever has had their eyes on you and Taehyun has also noticed that you’re running around with Yeonjun. Is Yeonjun in danger? You gnaw at your cheeks. This person had to have been hovering around you two for days and days—not once had either of you noticed.

“Did you find out who it could’ve been?”

He shakes his head solemnly. You can tell he’s unseaming and picking apart every moment leading up to this one—you are, too. Nothing sticks out. 

You freeze in your tracks. A pretty magpie sits dead on the forest ground, its blood decorating the snow in patches. No arrow pierces it, nor is it caught in any sort of trap. It lays with its little legs in the air. The imagery is unnerving. 

“Poor thing,” you say, crouching down by it. 

Taehyun pays you and the bird no mind, but you feel that something is off when he turns to you with his limbs and shoulders stiff. “What?” you ask.

His eyes survey the forest around you. He must be hearing something that you can’t. The hair on your skin prickles. Are you being watched? Taehyun narrows his eyes, looking over the surrounding forest for a few long moments, before continuing on his way, and so you decide that you should too, despite the feeling buzzing at the back of your neck.

 Somebody comes crashing out of the foliage, securing your arms to your side before you can process that they’ve got you. They hold the point of a dagger to your chest.

Metal hisses as Taehyun frees the blade from his hip, but he doesn’t make any advancements. Your heart beats under the point of the weapon, chasing breaths as fear paralyzes your chest. 

“A little birdie told me,”—your captor says from behind you—“that I’d find you two here.” 

“Let go of her,” Taehyun says. He stands with so much restraint in his limbs.

A patronizing laugh hurts your eardrum with its proximity. He sounds like a cawing crow. “No, I don’t think I will, Lord.” He spits the title out like it is bitter in his mouth, letting the blade dig the littlest bit into your skin. You don’t even feel it with the way adrenaline buzzes in your gut, leaving your limbs shaky.

Taehyun can’t move, so you begin wiggling your fingers for your dagger. Fear chokes you. 

“You won’t miss this one, right?” the man says. He uses the metal to point up at your face, before replacing it over your heart. You’ve almost made it to your thigh, and still, he hasn’t taken notice. “I’ll just get this over with, and then we can talk about this more comfortably.” You may throw up. 

You bunch up the hem of your dress with the littlest of movements to free your thigh and slide out the dagger hidden there.

“Who told you where to find us?” asks Taehyun. Your palm is sweaty around the metal of the dagger, and you readjust your grip a few times, trying to muster the courage to swing it up.

“I told you already,”—the man readjusts his hold on you—“a little birdie.” There’s a sneer to his words. He points the tip of the dagger up to your chin, ghosting it down the column of your throat. Repressed whimpers of terror bubble to the surface. 

“Shut up,” he spits.

Taehyun challenges him. “Do it, then.” Blood roars in your ears.

“You think I won’t?” your snatcher says. 

“Do it,” Taehyun repeats, and you almost let your life flash before your eyes until you see that Taehyun is not looking at the man as he speaks; he’s looking at you. He’s telling you to do it. You tighten your grip on the dagger, before driving it behind you. It makes contact, and the faerie man bellows. You use his shock to free yourself. 

You had driven the blade deep into the man’s shoulder. He thrashes, ruby-red blood inking his fingers as he holds the wound.  

“Bitch!” he howls. “You’re fucking dead, anyway.” 

What does that mean?

Taehyun plunges his sword through the faerie before you even notice he had approached, or ask the man what, exactly, he means. He drops to the floor, mouth filling with blood. You can see it when he opens his mouth to scream and is only able to burble. His own blood chokes him. Your fingertips feel numb, and so does your face.

Taehyun turns to you. “You did good.” 

You did good? You don’t feel good.

You nod. “Thanks.”

 Now, on the forest floor of white snow, lies both a dead faerie man and a dead magpie. You feel the sensation of his skin breaking under your dagger reverberating in your hands, twisting in your mind. His blood paints the ground a nauseating shade of death-red.

“Are you okay?” Taehyun asks, eyeing you.

“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, I am.”

❆

You and Taehyun attend court the next day skittish. Taehyun delegates you a new role, now; make as big of a scene with Yeonjun as you possibly can. The goal is to throw attention to that, rather than to Taehyun as he continues snooping around. 

It’s not hard to make a spectacle of you and Yeonjun when everybody is already noticing. He doesn’t hide the way he showers you with luxuries, nor does he want to. You can’t help but wonder why he’s making such a show out of it. At some point, his father will hear of him courting a human. Word flies fast in Faerie. You can’t imagine The King would be pleased.

A hand curls around your hip, and you know it’s Yeonjun’s. 

“You weren’t here yesterday,” he says. 

You frown. “No need to state the obvious.”

 He laughs and thumbs your cheek, and you swear the butterflies that flutter in your stomach are nearly painful. “I missed you,” he says. His eyes glitter with the words. “Did you go somewhere with him?” he asks. You don’t miss the way the word him curls in his mouth, much like how a person of the court would speak of something more unfavorable in a sickly-sweet way, to keep up a mask of indifference. 

“We just ran some errands.” You shrug it off. It isn’t the truth, but it also isn’t so far removed from it that you feel uncomfortable about lying to him. Lately, the guilt lays more heavily over you. With each dress and bejeweled trinket Yeonjun sends your way, the more you want to get this big lie out of the way. You should’ve done it before Taehyun set you out to do this; at least then, you could face him and not feel so deceitful. Is there a way to tell him that still conveys that you aren’t using him?

Yeonjun’s eyes flicker to your mouth, and back up to your eyes so quickly you could’ve missed it with a blink. “I see,” he muses. “I could take you under my care, you know. He wouldn’t have a say in any of it.”

Your expression sours a bit, and you know it’s not the reaction Yeonjun had expected if the look on his face says anything. 

“I don’t want to just become a playtoy,” you say. 

He looks taken aback. “You wouldn’t be a playtoy,” he says. “Ever.” He searches your eyes for something. “Why would you even think that?” 

Because you’re a prince, you think. Because I’m a human. Because that’s all we are to your kind. 

“Then why don’t we just stay as we are?” you say. There would be no real reason to even go through with such a thing—not when nothing would come of it. Princes of Faerie don’t marry humans. You’d become a mistress, and that’s being optimistic.

“Taehyun is not a good man,” Yeonjun says. His voice is stripped of its usual playful inflection. Why does everybody seem to keep telling you that? “I would feel better knowing that you’re safe.”

Safe? He thinks Taehyun would hurt you? “I’m okay, Yeonjun,” you say, if only to placate him. He doesn’t look convinced at all. “He treats me well,” you laugh. You meet his hand on your cheek with your own, curling it around his. While he doesn’t know the truth of everything, or why you stay with Taehyun in the first place, it stitches some old wounds inside you seeing that he cares for you.

His jaw tightens. “My offer will still stand if you ever decide otherwise.” 

He brushes his thumb at the plush of your bottom lip. Your mind goes fuzzy. When he presses it fully to your lips, you suck his thumb into your mouth, tasting the imprint of his fingerprint with rolls of your tongue around it. He looks as though he could moan standing there watching you, so you make a point of not losing contact with his eyes. You feel multiple burning stares on you, but you shove them out. 

He watches your tongue and his gaze comes alive with hunger, tugging your lower lip down before taking your chin into a hold and molding his lips to yours. His kiss conveys every thought plaguing his mind in its raw nature.

Their eyes are on you; so many eyes are. You know they look, but for the first time, you don’t falter under the weight. He tastes like broken shackles and weightless limbs. He tastes like salvation.

He roams his hands dangerously. When your mouths part, despite your shortage of oxygen, you say, “I’m sure you had many courtly ladies to entertain in my absence.” Your head buzzes. 

You’ve never seen Yeonjun so much as interact with another woman, but you still worry that he doesn’t only have eyes for you. 

His face turns sly again. “They’re honestly all quite dull.” 

Maybe, one day, you’ll join those ranks. You remind yourself that you won’t be here forever—that this moment in time is finite. Hopefully, you won’t be here long enough to see that happen. You’re not sure your self-worth could handle that hit.

“Are you really so superficial?” you ask. You stay playful in your tone, peeling from him to waltz toward an entree table. He follows. The way he trails you like a puppy on a leash does a bit to bloat your ego, despite your worries. “What’s so special about me?” It’s cheap, you know, but you crave his praise. You’ve found yourself thriving off of Yeonjun’s sweet words like oxygen. The question had been plaguing your mind since he had first spoken to you, anyway.

He looks as if he can’t articulate what he’s thinking. Or, maybe, he’s just concocting some words that’ll sound nice to your ears. “This life has become tiring. It drains you, and I am surrounded by it. Endlessly.” He pops a treat off a platter into his mouth. “You’re like a breath of spring air to my lungs.” 

You’re his distraction. He saw a human and decided it would be the biggest spectacle he could find to distract from his princely woes. You draw back. What do the faeries in this court think of you? Do they snicker when you turn your back? Do they laugh to see you think that you’re more than just entertainment to him? Does he join them? 

“What’s wrong?” Yeonjun asks, seeing the way you retract into yourself. “What is it?” 

You have to keep this act up; the well-being of your mission relies on it. You should’ve never gotten your feelings so entangled. 

“Because I’m human?”

A frown etches into his porcelain face. “No. Maybe at first, but…”—he releases a measured breath—“No.” Selfishly, you’re thankful that his kind can’t lie. 

You and Yeonjun find the dancefloor, more packed with cavorting faeries each day, and you accept the distraction from your dreary thoughts. The wild nature of it strips you of such things, leaving you bare to just your happier feelings. It leaves you just as breathless as the first time had. You kick and whirl and flail your limbs freely. 

When Yeonjun inevitably tugs you from your trance and out of the throng of folk, you’re dazed. Exhausted. Your hands itch to be all over him. 

“Breathe,” he reminds you, smoothing over the wild tousle that your hair had become. You focus on steadying your erratic breaths. “You’re a wild one,” he says, a pleased grin on his lips. The flush on his cheeks mirrors your own, despite his teasing. 

You lean into him to support your legs of jelly. You must’ve danced for hours. 

Yeonjun looks down at you, and his features are soft. “You wanna rest?” You nod. He laughs and then takes your hands into his. He guides you away from the soiree, out from the canopy of trees, but not toward Taehyun’s estate. You don’t question where he leads you, even as cold air makes you realize how bare this dress leaves your arms, even as the unfamiliar path catches at the hem of your dress. He notices how you don’t care to lift it from the ground, snorting, before lifting you into his arms.

“Woah!” you protest, feet off the ground in seconds. “I can walk.”

“Ah, but, only a fool would let a pretty lady like you soil her dress in the dirt.” 

You scowl at him, but it doesn’t change the way your belly swoops. He treats you so delicately. 

He carries you until you arrive at a mini palace that is no doubt royal—it towers over any surrounding trees. And, you had thought you had seen luxury. This is luxury. This is a life spent fed off of only crystal spoons. You admire the lush interior as he carries you into the palace. 

“This is where you stay?” you say. 

He hums, and you can feel the rumble of it in his chest. “For one half of the year, this is my home.”

You notice how utterly empty it is. You had expected advisors and permanent guards and bustling servants. “It must get lonely here.” 

“I prefer it here,” he says. You can sympathize with that. You had spent the entirety of your life in the land of summer, but you had found more warmth than ever here in the north. This place was supposed to be a death sentence for humans, and though you had briefly met the danger that the north could present yesterday, you almost dread leaving. Maybe you just need more time, and then you’ll be so overtaken by fear that it’ll make it easy.

Yeonjun carries you through a door, and into what you assume is his room. A bed so large it would swallow up a third of the room you’re staying at in Taehyun’s estate sits in the middle of his room. He sets you down onto its velvety, rose-petal coverlet, before he climbs in next to you, propping himself up onto an elbow so he can admire you.

Your skin sighs as he rubs sweet circles over your bare shoulder with the pad of his thumb. The two of you settle into a long, comfortable silence.

“Do you believe that I don’t care for you?” he asks into the quiet. Do you hear hurt in his words? 

You meet his gaze and struggle to find words. Is it wrong to lie, just because you can? 

Your hesitance tells him enough. His fingers on your skin stop. “I am not so shallow, if you actually meant that.” Your words from earlier must’ve been gnawing at him. 

“It’s not that,” you say, avoiding contact with his eyes. It was exactly that. He doesn’t allow you to look away from him, sitting up to cut straight back into your vision. 

“What is it, then?” 

Your heart thrums. You want to tell him that you’re a liar, and that he should spit in your face and tell you to get out. You want to ask him if he’d still care for you the way he does if he knew your truth. You want to ask him if there’s any way that this can play out where the both of you end up together and unscathed. Your mind beckons you to ask him about every little doubt that has harassed your mind concerning him so that he can comfort you and assure you that they are just doubts. 

You ask none of those. 

“How can I show you?” he says. He climbs over you, knees straddling each side of your legs. “What would it take to prove to you that I mean it when I tell you that you make my heart ache? What will it take to make you become mine?” He lines a kiss up on your forehead, and then your cheek, and then onto the corner of your mouth. “This?” he asks, and then he hikes up the length of your dress, bunching all the fabric above your hips. He draws back so that he can plant a kiss on your clit, and he makes sure you’re looking at him while he does it. “Or is it this?” 

You breathe in the sensation, gasping his name like prayer and making room for him between your thighs. 

“Is that what it is, pretty? You need me to make love to you? I can do that,” he says. “I can do that, no problem.” 

He works at his clothes with one hand and brushes touches to your cunt with the other. Eventually, his needlessly extravagant Court shirt is off, and he’s holding your hip down as he prods the tip of a finger at your entrance. Your hole flutters in anticipation, his eyes catch it, and he breaks into a lousy grin. He finally begins pushing the finger into you, watching as you gasp at the way he curls into you. 

Pleasure whorls in your belly, rendering you increasingly dumber. “I need you,” you say. The muscles in his arm strain as he fingers you, and his black hair falls into his face with the movements. Your heart clenches.

“Slow down, baby. I need to do this, you’re not ready for me yet,” he says, pressing a soft kiss into your temple. “I want to make you feel good.” He slides another finger in, and you suppose he’s right, because it stretches you. He pumps and curls the both of them, and you dig your nails into his forearm as it all starts building in your belly. 

Yeonjun tugs his lip into his mouth, biting it, as he watches you grow restless under his fingers. Your peak feels so close, but his pace is so leisurely that you’re worried you’ll never reach it, as if caught in a limbo of torturous delight. “Faster,” you cry. “Faster, please.” It amuses him, and he abandons his casual pace for sloppy curls that have you whimpering into the air of his bedroom.

 “Yes, yes, yes!” A crescendo looms over you, until it crashes and your back is arching off the bed and you’re making embarrassing sounds. You dig crescents into Yeonjun’s arm when he continues to finger you. Your insides protest his stimulation, tugging and clenching tight in a way that borders tastefully on discomfort. 

“Fuck,” you hear Yeonjun say through the haze. “Just like that. Doesn’t it feel good?” he purrs. His fingers plow you through this peak, hurling you toward another one brutally. “I know it does; you’re clenching around my fingers so hard.”

Your hand covers your face. His words are lewd, and he says them like it’s nothing. It makes your insides burn. You can tell that the orgasm he beckons you into with each deliberate thrust is going to be explosive, frantically squeezing your thighs around his arm to staunch the intensity of his movements. Wet sounds punctuate each curl of his fingers. You can hardly believe that those sounds are coming from you.

“You want another one?” he says. You only answer him with pathetic whimpers. “Keep making those pretty noises for me.” 

You do, and he rewards you with his thumb on your clit. It drives you utterly wild. The blend of his fingers inside you and each bump against your nerves is exactly what you need to explode, and so you do, bucking. You’re worried he’s going to try and have you cum again when his fingers don’t stop, but he brings you down gently with small swirls. 

You catch your breath while Yeonjun adjusts you on the bed, tugging you down by your hips and sliding one of his thinner pillows under the bottom of your spine in a way that lifts your bottom half into the air. You laugh through ragged breaths; it feels a tad ridiculous.

“What’s that for?” 

He massages your inner thigh, soft humor twinkling in his eyes, but also so much more. “You’ll see,” he says. He hovers over you, bracing his weight into one arm at the side of your head so he can look right into your face. His free arm lines the tip of him up with you. Before making any moves to slide into you, he kisses you and takes your bottom lip with him as he pulls back. It exhilarates you; everything he’s ever done to you is exhilarating. You’re swept into a ripwave of emotion. Do you deserve all this? Is this life yours?

His hand rests on your hip, brushing over your hipbone with great gentleness, as he pushes into you. It’s slow and full of peppered kisses all over your face and neck, and then he’s in you to the hilt, and then he’s pulling back out of you so that you’re just so empty, but of course, with just a thrust he’s filling you back up. He falls into a swift pace, but each time he ruts up into you, it’s calculated and well-placed. Maybe it’s the pillow, or perhaps it’s just expertise, but he’s plunging into a sickeningly soft spot inside of you that makes your legs that are locked around his waist shake each time. Your eyes flutter close, but your mouth drops open in a soundless moan. 

“No, open your eyes. Look at me. Do you feel it? Do you feel my love for you?” he says, voice raw. “Is this what you needed?” 

Yes, this is exactly what you need. You feel so far removed from yourself that you can’t even feel your hurt or worries. You nod your head frantically. 

“Please, open your eyes,” he repeats, pleading in his tone. His face is right in front of yours when you do. His eyes flicker between both of yours. The intimacy of it is as consuming as the flames licking your insides, winding you up so tight that you might explode into a ball of blazing fire. The rolls of his hips turn into short, needy ruts. His mouth drops open, but he won’t close his eyes. He wants to watch you. 

“Yeonjun—” you breathe. Your muscles are tense all over, especially in your core, where he winds you tighter. The impending orgasm whispers into your ear that it will swallow you whole in its wake, and you believe it; you can’t breathe. 

“I know,” he says. When you squeak, face screwing up, Yeonjun reads you like letters on paper. “I know, it feels so good.” He’s just as much of a mess as you, panting while his free hand grabs at each of your curves to ground himself. You hold back your climax; it’s so hot in your belly that you fear how it’s going to wreck you. The hair on your skin prickles and rises. 

He feels how tightly you clamp down on him. “C’mon, pretty.”

Your nails rake paths down his biceps. “I can’t” you gasp. “Can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” 

Warm tears pool in the corners of your eyes and you shake your head. You do everything you can to urge it back; wriggling under him to escape his thrusts, pushing at his chest, biting into your poor lip until you fear it’ll bleed. Pressure builds all over you, your eyes burn and your muscles burn, like a thousand pounds of ecstasy pressing on each square inch of you and begging to be released.

“Stop running from it,” he says, pushing your hips into the mattress, pinning them so that he can deliver pointed thrusts up into that place that is so sensitive. It works wonders. “Let go, baby. Let it happen; I promise you it’ll feel so good.” 

You crumble, crying out into the air and clenching wildly around Yeonjun. 

“Yes, fuck!” he growls. He’s chasing his own peak now, leaving you no time to breathe through your own. 

You chant his name.

 “Squeezing me so good—you’re driving me up the fucking walls, pretty.” 

The sounds he rips from you are errant the more he pistons into you, and your hair sticks to your neck. For the third time, you cum, circling him in your arms and keeping him close while you try your best to ride this one out.

With the encouragement of you sporadically tightening around him, he stills over you, abdomen tensing up, before cumming into you, producing strangled sighs. He collapses down to his elbows and drops his head into your neck, delivering shallow rolls as he rides it out. Breaths puff onto your skin as he peppers warm kisses over every inch of your exposed skin. He stays like this, intertwined with you, for a while, lazily delivering thrusts until you’re both able to breathe fully again. 

When he pulls out of you, you feel him dripping from you. You should’ve told him to pull out; you must have no fears. It’s hard to worry too much about that, though, with the way he’s looking at your cunt as if the sight of his seed oozing from you was like nothing he’d ever seen before. He takes your ankle into his hand from where it hovers in the air, dusting a smooth and chocolatey kiss there.

“Do you see now?” he asks, bringing his eyes up to yours. 

“Yeah,” you say. “I do.” 

🪶 ⦂ there she is! I wanna see who y'all are more attached to this far.

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[pagelets]

Choi Soobin as your bf:

“When there's madness, when there's poison in your head.

When the sadness leaves you broken in your bed.

I will hold you in the depths of your despair.

And it's all in the name of love”

Disclaimer: all cute and suggestion of sex.

- Scared of everything:

• Don't be fooled by his tall stature, this man is a complete scaredy cat.

• And he's not scared only of horror things, he literally gets scared by everything. If you sneeze, get ready to hear him screaming from the other room. Or if you accidentally sit on the TV remote and the volume increases abruptly, you will definitely hear some bad words coming out of his mouth.

- He buys you flowers:

• Every time he goes shopping he comes back with a bouquet of flowers for you.

• If you have a favorite flower, he always brings those for you.

• And if you don't have one, he always surprises you with the most colorful and beautiful flowers he can find. Isn't he a gentleman?

- Book club:

• Soobin loves reading, he always wanted to be part of a book club but he couldn't because of his busy schedule.

• Then he met you, and now he can have his own book club at home with you.

• You both read together, lazily lying on the bed or on the couch, your bodies tangled together. One hand holds the book while the other gently strokes the other's hair.

- Breakfast in bed every weekend:

• It's like a tradition. Every Sunday morning Soobin wakes you up with a tray filled with all your favorite treats.

• Is your go-to pancakes? Maybe eggs? Or even just bread and fruit juice? He will make it for you, no matter what it is.

- Acts like Odi is your child:

• You never thought dating Soobin would include becoming a mom to a hedgehog.

• “Did your mom forget to feed you again?”, he asked Odi with a disappointed look on his face while holding the pet like a baby. “It's okay. I’ll punish her for that later”, if you know what I mean.

- Gaming nights:

• Soobin usually organizes late night gaming tournaments with you.

• If you're good at games, he doesn’t go easy on you. He’s very competitive and hates losing, it feels like a real championship.

• But if you're not that great at games, he takes it easy, letting you hit him sometimes. He even lets you win once in a while.

• But most of the time, he doesn’t, but just because he loves kissing the pout that forms on your lips when you lose.

- Getting smashed by his giant body:

• Sleeping next to a 185cm man is not easy.

• Of course he cuddles you as you sleep, but throughout the night he starts moving around in bed and often ends up rolling on top of you, leaving you completely squished.

• And don’t even think about escaping from his arms he’ll pull you back the moment he notices you’re gone.

- Holding hands:

• Of course, it wouldn’t be complete without holding hands.

• He holds your hand everywhere: when he is driving, when you are cooking together in the kitchen, when watching a movie at the theater or on your couch at home, while sleeping, even while taking a shower... Everywhere.

• He even feels something is missing when he isn't holding your hand.

Taehyu version

Huening Kai version

Beomgyu version

Yeonjun version

[c0llisiion]

★ smut, Taehyung + reader, insecurities, mirror

★ w/c : 923

As you got ready for your date night, you couldn’t help but notice the way your stomach stuck out of the tight bodycon dress. The skirt was riding up because of your thick thighs, and your shoulders looked huge under the thin spaghetti straps of the dress.

You were staring at your reflection for what felt like an eternity and were brought back to earth when Taehyung's familiar voice bounced off the bathroom walls.

"You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days, you know that?" He teases, his gaze never leaving her figure.

But the teasing expression was quickly replaced by a look of concern as he saw the look on your face.

“Babe? Are you okay?” He quickly approached you from behind, looking at you through the reflection of the mirror.

Watching you intently as you tried not to shed tears.

Taehyung hated it when you always talked down on yourself. He would get so infuriated and agitated when he watched and listened to you complain about your curves.

He hated the fact that you couldn’t see yourself through his POV. And he would do anything to prove that your body was absolutely perfect.

You quickly shook your head and looked away, avoiding his worrying gaze.

“It's nothing—it's nothing… I'm fine…” you say while going back to finishing up your makeup.

You could feel the way his face formed a frown. Taehyung knew you too well. He knew you were lying to just get over with it.

His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Look at me…” he said, slightly authoritatively.

And when you refused to do so, he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him through the mirror.

His eyes had that oh-so-familiar intensity. He leaned in closer and inhaled the back of your neck, your scent filling up his system.

You closed your eyes and sighed as you felt him press wet kisses down to your shoulders, greedy fingers rolling the straps down your shoulders. He always knew what to do when you were down without even asking.

“Taehyu-“ you tried protesting but were quickly cut off by his gruff words.

“You were scrutinizing yourself, weren’t you?”

You reluctantly nod. Feeling slightly embarrassed as it was a recurring and lingering thought.

Taehyung hummed before pushing the hem of your skirt up, exposing your soft bottom to his ravenous eyes.

His fingers splayed themselves out onto your thighs and hips, gently rubbing and massaging the flesh while kissing your shoulders and neck.

“Mm.. do you know how beautiful you look right now?” He mumbled. “Such a shame that I won’t be able to show off this beauty tonight."

You couldn’t help but blush at his comment. His words make you feel warm and fuzzy.

“Taehyung… please…” you pleaded to him with no clear intention. His hands were dangerously close to your aching core, not touching you yet.

“Please, what baby?… Do you want me to show you how stunning and perfect you are?”

You nod, and it was all he needed as an answer as he dips his eager fingers into your panties. The pads of his fingers find your slick folds immediately.

He hums softly at the feeling of your wetness coating his fingers. Your ass unwittingly pressing against his crotch, seeking more of his nervy touches.

Breathy curses left your lips as his fingers drew light circles on your clit. His other hand moving up your body to cup your breasts and pull your dress down. The fabric pooling at your waist.

You leaned over the bathroom counter slightly so you could feel his erection rub against your clothed core.

Taehyung's eyes immediately shoot up to watch you through the mirror. A smirk forms on his face, knowing that he is making you desperate for his cock.

He pulls his fingers out of your panties, earning a soft whine and pout from your side.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” He teased you, his hands already working to free his painfully hard cock from its restraints.

You watch in fascination as his erect member springs out and rests against the mound of your ass, making you bend over the edge of the counter even more.

Taehyung pushed your lacy underwear to the side, exposing your glistening folds, dripping with anticipation.

“Oh god, honey… You’re gorgeous…” he groaned, rubbing the flush pink tip against your slit.

You mewl and spread your legs wider as you feel him gently prod into your hole.

Desperate and needy eyes searching for its lover’s attention through the mirror, wanting him to fuck you silly already.

And the response was immediate as he made eye contact with you and understood your message.

He grabbed your hips tightly before pushing in and moving in a brutal pace, not giving you the opportunity to adjust to his size.

“Fuck-“ His breath comes out choked as he feels you clench around his length. He looks up at you and watches your expressions through the mirror.

He made sure to register every single expression you made. The way your lips were parted. Your tightly knit eyebrows. And the way your eyes were struggling to stay open and focused.

With a loud grunt and growl, he thrusted in you sharply before leaning over your shoulders, kissing behind your ears, and whispering incoherent words. “Fuck.. baby.. you look so… so so hot right now… fuck so sexy.. y-you’re so sexy.. mmm… i love you…. I lo-love you…”

Date night was definitely canceled.

A/N: im. Finally. Back. IM SO SORRY FOR GOING MIA I LITERALLY FELL SICK OUT OF NOWHERE 😭😭😭😭 anyways a lil taehyung Drabble as redemption, not rlly proud but eh

Also inbox is open SO PLEASE SEND ME A RQ tyyyyy

[yushiguro]

frat boy gojo !

ᥫ᭡. hard2get reader seeing frat boy gojo at a school party (taken word for word from my txt acc @taehyus)

join my discord

the bass pulsed through the room, vibrations humming beneath your feet as neon lights flickered across a sea of moving bodies. the party was in full swing—drunken laughter, loud conversations, music loud enough to drown out your thoughts. but you? you were leaned against the kitchen counter, drink in hand, watching it all with a detached sort of amusement.

and then, predictably, gojo appeared.

"didn’t take you for the type to be a wallflower," he mused, voice smooth as he slid up beside you, elbow resting on the counter. his eyes glimmered with something playful, something dangerous. "waiting for someone? or just playing hard to get?"

you took a slow sip of your drink, barely looking at him. "who says i’m playing?"

his grin deepened. "so it’s natural, then? damn." he let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "you really don’t make it easy, huh?"

"should i?" you shot back, finally meeting his gaze.

he chuckled, tongue brushing over his lower lip as he tilted his head. "no. i like the chase."

you rolled your eyes, but the way he was looking at you—casual, confident, like he already knew he had your attention—made it a little harder to ignore him.

"so what’s the goal here, gojo?" you asked, shifting slightly, your body angling toward him just enough to keep him on his toes.

he leaned in, just close enough that his cologne mixed with the faint scent of liquor on his breath. "your attention," he murmured. "your time. your number, if i’m lucky."

"hmm," you mused, pretending to consider. "debatable."

he tsked, shaking his head with a grin. "cold." but there was no real disappointment there, just amusement—like he enjoyed watching you dance around him, making him work for it.

then, just as you were about to throw another teasing remark his way, he moved closer. not too much, just enough for the air between you to shift, for his fingers to barely brush against your hip as he leaned in, lips near your ear.

"y’know," he murmured, voice lower now, softer, "you keep looking at me like that, and i might start thinking you actually want me here."

you exhaled, steady, refusing to let him see the effect of his words. "you’re awfully full of yourself."

he laughed, the sound warm, the heat of his breath teasing against your skin. "yeah? tell me to leave then."

you opened your mouth—but hesitated just a second too long. and yeonjun, ever the opportunist, caught it.

his fingers lingered just a little longer before he finally pulled back, smirk firmly in place. "thought so," he murmured, eyes flicking down to your lips for just a second before he stepped away.

"i’ll see you around, pretty," he said, flashing you one last grin before disappearing back into the crowd.

damn it. he was too interesting for his own good.

[godilovetakayamariki]

BATHROOM STALL ㅤㅤㅤ୧ ˳ ≛ ۫ ⌒ ⭑⭒

Pairing: Taehyun x Yeonjun x Reader

Genre: non - idol au, smut

Synopsis: beomgyu drags you to a party where ur f Genre: non - idol au, smut avorite boys are attending, things get steamy in the bathroom….they’re both there.

Warnings: Pet names, threesome, possessiveness, Public sex, oral sex, name calling

Word count: 1732

Authors note: Just a little something I did for fun i hope you enjoy! If enough request I’ll post pt2!

It was a normal Friday night for you, sitting at home reading your new Manga you picked up on your way home earlier that day. You had expected to lay in bed all night until you get a text from your best friend.

20 mins was definitely not enough time to get ready for the club, so you did your best to look as presentable as possible…especially since Taehyun would be there…you had always had a crush on him ever since you laid eyes upon him. That was 4 years ago, he was your best friends bandmate, but Taehyun wasn’t the only one of your best friends bandmatees you had eyes on. Yeonjun had always caught your eye, he was so unreal, his hair was as soft as cotton and his eyes stared so deep into your soul you couldn’t help but buckle at the knees every time he looked at you.

As you’re getting ready for the club you’re thinking about what would look best to Taehyun and Yeonjun, so you put on your shortest skirt and smallest top, you put your hair into a slick ponytail, with smoky makeup and your sexiest heels.

20 mins fly by and you receive the “I’m here” text from Beomgyu. You walk outside and see him in your driveway in his Range Rover. You hop in the front seat, buckle up and set your purse in the back seat. Beomgyu looks at you up and down “you look hot wow” he says. “Thank you Beom” you playfully roll your eyes at him and giggle. “Are the other boys already there?” You ask. “Yeah they got there a while ago.” Beomgyu says. About 5 minutes later you pull up to the

Valet of the club, Beomgyu gives his keys to the valet driver and walks around to open your door and help you out of the very tall car.

This club was extremely nice, nicer than you could afford, you’re lucky you’re here in the first place - your best friend was paying for everything. You and Beomgyu make your way into the club and spot the rest of the members standing at the bar ordering drinks, just as you walk up you can already tell Yeonjun is basically eye fucking you. He can’t keep his eyes off of you. You feel an arm wrap around you, you turn around to see Taehyun, he’s asking if you want a drink. You agree getting a coke and rum. “Naaah that’s not what we’re doing” Taehyun says “Get her a shot.”

Taehyun orders you and him a shot of vodka, the liquor he knows gets you the most drunk, as you and taehyun are taking your shots you can feel a stare coming from your peripherals. You slightly turn your head to get a glimpse. You see Yeonjun standing at the table behind you staring at you with jealousy in his eyes. You take advantage of this and start flirting with taehyun more, putting your arm around him, laughing at his jokes, pinching his cheeks, caressing his arms, anything you can to make Yeonjun even more jealous. As you’re laughing with taehyun you feel someone grab your arm and pull you away from the bar. You turn around to see Yeonjun dragging you to the dance floor - at this point you’re tipsy enough to not care so you just start dancing with him - more so grinding on him than dancing but he doesn’t mind. His hands are wrapped around your waist guiding your ass to meet with his hips. You both continue to dance for a few more songs when you get pulled away once again, at this point you have had more than too many drinks and didn’t care who you were dancing with at this point. You look up and it’s Taehyun who had drug you away from Yeonjun you start dancing on him like you did with Yeonjun, Taehyuns hands feeling every inch of your body as you throw your ass on him to the club music. Taehyun was biting his bottom lip as his hands were on your ass at this point. You reach your arms behind you and grab onto his neck- his hands wrap around to your stomach as you dance to the music some more.

Taehyun whispers in your ear “I’ll be right back kitten” you were too drunk to process what he just said to you so you kept dancing without a care in the world. A few minutes passed of you dancing alone when Taehyun finds you, grabs your hand and leads you away from the dance floor. “W-w- where are we going hyunie” you say in very slurred drunken speech. “Shhh you’ll see, trust me”. And that you do, you trusted Taehyun with your life. He’s leading you through the crowd of people dancing and talking and you follow his lead.

You’re following him blindly, when all of the sudden he leads you into a room…the bathroom. As soon as you enter the door you notice another figure in the bathroom. It was Yeonjun, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, he looks at you with lustfull eyes. Taehyun locks the door behind you. “Taehyun what are you doing?” You ask a little shocked. “I told you to trust me kitten..didn’t I” “Now be a good girl for Yeonjun”

Yeonjun walks over to you, “You think you could wear this slutty little outfit out in public and expect not to get fucked” You are now flush against the bathroom door, yeonjuns knee is now pressing into your heat. His arms above your head on the door, his face is inches away from yours, he’s looking at you with those same eyes…they look almost predatory, like he hunted his prey and is about to devour it. He removes his hand from the door and grabs you by the chin making you look him directly in the eyes. “Is this not what you wanted princess, didn’t you dress like this on purpose. To get us excited” You have nothing to say, you just gulp, loud enough for both boys to hear. “Tell me you want me. Now.” “I know you do pretty girl”

“I want you Yeonjun” At this point Yeonjun is rubbing his knee at your heat. You’re basically grinding his thighs and you don’t even realize it. You’re soaking wet. “We haven’t even started with you yet and you’re this wet princess” He says as his lips curl into a devilish smile.

You want to kiss him so bad, his plump velvet lips staring you right in the face. You bite your lower lip to try to contain the lewd sounds coming from your throat, but Yeonjun already noticed. He brings his thumb from your cheek to your bottom lip and gently slides his thumb across your lips, then slipping his thumb into your mouth. You let out a whimper as you see Yeonjun bite his lower lip, he slides his thumb in and out of your mouth leaving trails of saliva running down your chin.

“That’s a good girl, suck my thumb just like that”

“You like that huh”

“You’re such a slut, you want me and Taehyun one isn’t good enough for you is it”

Yeonjun signals to Taehyun to come over, you’re still pressed against the door, You’re too dizzy from Yeonjun finger fucking your mouth you can’t even tell what they’re talking about. Then you feel Yeonjun remove his fingers from your mouth leaving a trail of saliva. Just as you start to catch your breath Taehyun picks you up holding you by your ass which is completely out at this point, he sits you on the bathroom sink and stares you in the eyes

“Does the little kitten want me to kiss her?”

All you can think is how this is what you’ve dreamed about ever since you met him yet in this moment you can’t seem to form any words, you just nod at him.

“I’ll take that as a yes”

He grabs a handful of your hair from the back and pulls you closer to him, his lips finally meet yours, he doesn’t hesitate to make it rough and wet, your tongues are wrestling eachother slipping in and out of eachothers mouths. His hand reaches down inside of your top to play with your boobs, going from groping them one second to squeezing your nipples the next. You’re letting out whimpers and moans in the middle of sloppy kisses. His hand travels from your boobs to lifting up your skirt to play with your panty covered clit.

Taehyun picks you back up moving you from the bathroom sink to the wall, he has your back to the wall, still leaving sloppy kisses all over your mouth and neck. He stops for a moment and looks over at Yeonjun and gives him a signal. With your back pressed against the wall in Taehyuns arms Yeonjun comes underneath, he’s leaving messy wet kisses on your inner thighs, he then moves your panties to the side with one finger and licks your heat, gentle but meticulous knowing exactly what spots to hit, as he’s licking you feel a single digit at the entrance, Yeonjun slides his finger in your heat and pumps in and out.

Taehyun won’t let you get a word out, you can only hear your moans through the sloppy wet kisses from you and Taehyun. As Yeonjun is playing with your cunt taehyun starts to nibble at your earlobe and whispers…

“You like being our little slut don’t you”

“You want us to fuck you however we want right”

“Tell me you want my dick In you”

“Say it kitty”

“I want your dick in me tae” you moan so loud Taehyun has to put his fingers in your mouth to shut you up. Yeonjun finishs eating you out, Taehyun Carries you back over to the sink. He sits you on the sink. Pushes your skirt up, and spreads your legs.

Authors note pt.2 PLS GIVE FEEDBACK IT WOULD BE VERY APPRECIATED!!

[gimmethatagustd]

falling into you | kth + myg

Sometimes Taehyung thinks he loves his roommate so much it makes him sick.

Pairing: Superheroes (in training) Taehyung x Yoongi

Rating: Explicit

Genre/Trope: Hanahaki Disease, college, superheroes/superpowers, friends to lovers, fluff, light angst, smut, roommates

Word Count: 22,941

Content Warning: Not actually unrequited love, misunderstandings, Taehyung is basically the superhero version of Poison Ivy, minor panic attack, loss of virginity, awkward (but cute) sex, anal fingering, anal sex

A/N: This was the first fic I wrote for an AO3 fest~ I hope you'll find Tae and Yoongi as endearing as I do.

Soundtrack: Fic playlist

The world has four types of people: superheroes, sidekicks, villains, and everyone else. Everyone has their place in society, and all four types of people are necessary for the world to function properly. There must always be good to balance out evil, a commoner for the villains to terrorize and the heroes to save. 

Everyone has their rightful place, and no one place is better. 

Taehyung knows this. 

Still, he wants to be the best. And to accomplish that, he has to be a hero. 

From the moment Taehyung was born, he was destined to be a sidekick. The seed was planted into his brain early on -  pun intended. He has stupid superpowers, or so he’s been told. What kind of superhero saves people by conjuring flowers and befriending shrubbery? Why would anyone in trouble shout for a wiry boy with grass-stained knees and daisy chains braided into his golden hair when someone with superstrength or laser eyes could save them instead? 

Never mind the fact that Taehyung can poison others with a simple touch. No one finds that impressive until they’re covered in painful welts and itching up a storm like they’ve been tossed into a patch of poison ivy. 

For that reason, villainy always seemed appealing. This was particularly true during high school meetings where a teenaged Taehyung picked dirt from underneath his nails while his parents argued with his teacher about placing him on the hero curriculum track instead of the sidekick track. 

“Your son just isn’t the type,” one teacher insisted. 

It was Mrs. Gwan, with her thick-framed glasses and cardigan that was more cat hair than wool. Her coffee breath was rancid enough to incapacitate the strongest of hero trainees. 

Well, jokes on them. Taehyung is on the path to becoming valedictorian of his graduating class at Seoul National University. By the end of the academic year, he’ll stand in front of hundreds of other supers in the purple graduation robes of hero trainees to give his speech, and it will be a giant  fuck you to all the Mrs. Gwans in his life who thought his abilities were cute but not up to superhero standards. 

Taehyung put in the hard work, and by god, he’ll fucking reap the benefits - pun intended. 

🌼

It’s a Friday evening when Taehyung finds out his hard work might be in vain. 

He sits at the kitchen table in Namjoon and Jungkook’s dorm, a steaming bowl of instant ramen in front of him that Jungkook keeps slipping spoonfuls of gochujang into. 

“Jungkook-ah, that’s enough,” Namjoon insists as he rounds the corner. It’s a wonder he manages to carry two additional bowls of ramen to the table without spilling them. 

“Hyung.” Jungkook scrunches his eyebrows and presses his tongue against his lip piercing in what he probably hopes is a menacing way. “It’s gonna taste boring if I don’t add anything to it!” 

“Taehyung doesn’t like spicy food.” 

“It’s gochujang, hyung, seriously.” 

“It has spice.” 

“It’s not like I’m dumping a bottle of hot sauce in it!” 

“The broth is turning red!” 

Taehyung slurps a few noodles, keenly aware of his friends watching him expectantly. He hums as he chews, which is enough to ease Namjoon’s worries. 

“See. He’s fine.” Jungkook is smug when he snatches his bowl of ramen from Namjoon and gets settled into the chair next to Taehyung. “I knew you’d be fine,” he whispers out of the corner of his mouth. 

Taehyung would never admit it, but he loves when his friends dote on him like this. It makes him feel all gooey inside, like a chocolate chip cookie fresh from the oven. 

“Midterm evals are up!” Namjoon suddenly announces, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and bringing his phone closer to his face. 

To those who don’t know Namjoon, he likely looks like a total tool wearing sunglasses indoors. It’s for everyone’s safety, though. Namjoon hasn’t been feeling well, and Taehyung appreciates the superhero-proof sunglasses preventing him from accidentally getting zapped by his best friend’s laser eyes every time the guy sneezes. 

It has happened more than once in the four years they’ve known each other, and it is not fun. Taehyung’s got scars to prove it. 

“You guys are such nerds,” Jungkook teases around a mouthful of ramen. 

“Sorry we’re not all super-geniuses like you. We actually have to put in effort,” Taehyung teases back. 

“Hey!” Jungkook acts like he’s about to stab Taehyung with his chopsticks. “I put in effort!” 

With a noncommittal shrug, Taehyung turns his attention to his phone. It’s no surprise that Jungkook doesn’t bother checking his midterm evaluation. The younger hero trainee is a junior with plenty of time to get his grades up before graduation. Not that Jungkook needs to worry. He genuinely is a genius; superintelligence is one of his many abilities. 

Taehyung, on the other hand, doesn’t have any abilities that automatically make him a strong student. He has gotten through his education through hard work, with no special advantages. 

Not that he judges Jungkook or anything. No one can help what their abilities are. It’s all up to family genes and destiny. Or maybe a freak accident, but despite what superhero movies make it seem like, it’s rare that supers become what they are by accident. 

Hunching over where his phone is placed on the table beside his bowl of ramen, Taehyung uses his middle finger to scroll through the report uploaded to his academic portal. 

Birth Name:  Kim Taehyung Super Name:  TBA Place Of Origin:  Bisan-dong, Daegu, South Korea Status:  Trainee (Seoul National University’s School for Superhuman Abilities)  Abilities:  Chlorokinesis, Plant Empathy, Toxikinesis, Toxic Immunity    Combat:  100 Durability:  100 Intelligence:  100 Power:  90 Speed:  100 Strength:  100

Whatever Namjoon and Jungkook are talking about fizzles out until it’s merely the fuzzy static of background noise. Taehyung can only focus on the glaring mistake in his midterm performance evaluation. 

Power:  90

Taehyung scoffs, rereading his stats a second, third, and fourth time. Ninety?  Ninety?  Never in Taehyung’s life has he ever earned anything other than a perfect score at SNU.  Never. 

It has to be a mistake. 

Taehyung’s hands tremble as he scrolls through the rest of the report. He grazes over the stats one last time before skipping down to the second page of the document. Quantitative evaluations don’t provide a complete picture; numbers can mean anything and nothing at all. Taehyung needs to know why his professor docked him ten points for something ridiculous. 

… points deducted due to a failure to exhibit total control of kinetic abilities… Kim demonstrated an inability to focus on his direct target… proved unusual based on previous evaluations… Effective empathic skills were not impacted… Additional training in recall is recommended…

“Taehyung-ah?” 

“Hmm?” Taehyung raises his eyebrows to acknowledge Namjoon’s call, but his eyes remain glued to his phone, skimming the qualitative feedback. 

Unreliable recall? A lack of control? It isn’t Taehyung’s fault, though. He’d been distracted. During the four-hour-long evaluation, a particular senior had hovered in Taehyung’s peripheral vision. 

Min Yoongi served as one of the infirmary student interns due to his powers of biokinesis, advanced healing, and life-force manipulation - a medley of abilities so powerful it’s a bit scary. Not that that’s unusual; a bunch of young adults in their early twenties running around with life-altering superpowers, nearly uninhibited, is pretty terrifying when one thinks about it. 

Yoongi holds the power of life and death in the palm of his hand, but from personal experience, Taehyung knows that the fellow superhero trainee is nothing but kind. He moves through the world gently, as though he’s hyper-aware of his ability to end life with the press of a fingertip against the skin, and thus makes every movement with intentionality and care. It’s admirable; Taehyung knows. He, too, has the power to destroy life just as much as he can nurture it.

But what does any of that have to do with Taehyung’s evaluation? As an infirmary student intern, Yoongi must sit in on combat evaluations in case his healing powers are needed. 

Taehyung grimaces at the memory, fighting it back into the darkest corner of his brain in hopes of smothering it. He doesn’t want to admit why he couldn’t stop looking over at where Yoongi sat during his evaluation. 

While being observed by a team of instructors, Taehyung was supposed to concentrate on hitting moving targets with poison drawn from the toxins that run through his superhuman veins. It was one of many tests. 

Whenever a target approached Taehyung, it seemed that Yoongi would do something distracting. 

The first time, a light cough knocked Taehyung off his game. He’d looked out the corner of his eye to see the blue-haired man sitting with his legs crossed in the grass. Yoongi bit his lip as he scrolled through his phone, and the target smacked Taehyung square in the face before he had the chance to analyze the weird flip his stomach did when he zeroed in on the pink of Yoongi’s bottom lip. 

The second time was much worse. 

Another sensation grew in the pit of Taehyung’s stomach, but it wasn’t nerves or… whatever it had been before. No, it was bile bubbling up in his belly that he was, unfortunately, rather familiar with. 

It was the feeling Taehyung got when he sensed life draining from a nearby plant. 

“Wait–” 

That time, one of the targets punched Taehyung in the gut. The impact knocked the wind out of him and threw him to the ground. A sharp pain shot from his tailbone up the length of his spine.  

Taehyung had rolled onto his stomach and pressed his palms into the ground in an attempt to push himself up. Gasping, he’d turned to see Yoongi twirling, between long fingers, a yellow dandelion he’d plucked from the grass. The poor thing drooped forward, top-heavy once it didn’t have the strength of the earth secured around its roots. 

It was then that Yoongi’s eyes locked with Taehyung’s from across the field. The corner of his mouth drew upward in a slight smirk. 

And that was when Taehyung’s arms gave out.  

“It’s only ten points, hyung. That’s barely anything. Not even a full letter grade of a difference.” 

Jungkook’s gentle reassurance draws Taehyung out of his troubled thoughts. He’s peering over Taehyung’s shoulder to read his evaluation. 

Namjoon looks up from his phone with a confused expression. “What?” 

“Hyung is mad they gave him a ninety on his Powers eval.” His younger friend’s shoulders lift to his ears in a shrug far too casual for Taehyung’s liking

“Ten points is enough to set me back at least fifteen people in my class ranking, Jungkook!  At least !”  

Jungkook rolls his eyes. 

“Why does your class rank even matter? It’s not gonna have an impact on your superhero certification. They’ll still let you work for the CIA or whatever stupid Avengers initiative the government’s got going.”  

“Government special ops typically only employ heroes and sidekicks at the top of their class,” Namjoon points out rather unhelpfully. 

“So being fifteenth in line is somehow not the top of his class?” Jungkook glares at no one in particular as he slurps his ramen. 

“Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon sighs. “Taehyung has worked very hard to get to where he is.” 

“Maybe you could ask someone to train with you?” Jungkook offers because his superhuman brain won’t rest until he solves all the world’s problems. “What about Yoongi hyung? The healing component of his biokinesis can cancel out your toxikinesis, right?” 

Taehyung nervously chews on an odd hangnail. The anxiety he wears is unbecoming of him, but he can’t possibly give a shit about appearances right now. It isn’t just that Yoongi fucked up Taehyung’s midterm evaluation. It’s much more and much worse than just that. 

Yoongi is Taehyung’s roommate.   

And now, Taehyung must return to their shared apartment-style dormitory and pretend like he isn’t sick with shame and embarrassment. 

Namjoon perks up at Jungkook’s recommendation. “That’s a great idea!” 

It’s a terrible idea. 

“Yoongi hyung would definitely help.” 

Neither friend notices how pink in the face Taehyung is becoming. 

“Wait…” Jungkook’s smile falters, and Taehyung wonders if perhaps his younger friend will have mercy on him. “Are you and hyung in a fight or something? You’re always here. I just talked to him last week about how we never all hang out together anymore.”

“That’s so true,” Namjoon joins in with a frown that matches Jungkook’s. 

Something jolts inside Taehyung’s chest. It’s an electric spike substantial enough that he feels it zip through his veins. Looking down, he notices goosebumps pebble the skin on his forearms, and he shivers despite wearing jeans and a baggy t-shirt. 

There’s no way he’s having this conversation. Not here, in his only safe space aside from the university greenhouse. Not with Namjoon and Jungkook, though he should feel comfortable talking to his best friends about what’s going on with him. All of that would take courage, though, and Taehyung would rather take a punch to the face by the strongest trainee at SNU than talk about his feelings. 

Scooting back his chair, Taehyung announces too loudly, “I need to water my plants!” 

The force with which he stands knocks his chair backward. It clatters against the floor, and Taehyung scrambles to pick it up, his cheeks flaming and his gangly limbs suddenly feeling out of sync with his body. 

Jungkook and Namjoon give each other a look that Taehyung chooses not to pay attention to. 

Nausea makes Taehyung’s insides curdle as he slowly shrugs on his blue jean jacket. Autumn hasn’t entirely descended on Seoul yet, but Taehyung prefers bundling up when the weather is windy like it is today. 

Although, there is something liberating about feeling warm air flutter through his fluffy hair, tossing his golden curls like a bird’s nest atop his head. It makes him feel weightless, as though somewhere deep inside, his body remembers what it was like for humans to be run by instincts and live freely rather than be confined to cities and jobs. 

“Text me when you get home?” Namjoon touches Taehyung’s arm. 

He nods, softly replying, “Of course, hyung.” 

Taehyung does his best to ignore the downturn of his friend’s mouth. If he lingers on it too long, it will mix his nausea with the oppressive weight of feeling like a disappointment. It isn’t a feeling Taehyung is familiar with, which likely makes it even more stifling. 

His feet drag against the pavement as he makes the short trek from Namjoon and Jungkook’s dorm to his own. His off-white hightop Converse, dirtied from attending one too many concerts with cigarettes and marijuana joints stuffed into their folds, kick small pebbles into the grass. 

The blades of grass sing to Taehyung as he walks. Kicking the pebbles doesn't hurt the blades; Taehyung would never intentionally hurt any plant. He sings to them and has found that the smooth baritone of his voice does wonders to nurture plants’ development when they’re young. He supposes they’re just like human babies listening to Mozart to stimulate their brains. 

Unfortunately, today, he isn’t in the mood to sing. 

Flowers lean toward the young man when he passes by, brushing their leaves and petals against the his calves. Plant hugs are something special; Taehyung does his best to appreciate them, even in his sulking. He stretches his fingers out, using his power to blanket the grass and patches of flowers along the sidewalk with comforting pheromones. The plants release them back, and Taehyung breathes in their scent deeply, letting the calming qualities permeate his soul. 

It doesn’t fix anything, but it feels good to be loved by nature around him.

🌼

Taehyung really does need to water his plants.

They complain a lot when he goes too many days without watering them, constantly chattering away in their flower language only plant empaths can hear and understand. The sounds are difficult to describe to someone who has never had the pleasure of hearing plants speak. The closest thing Taehyung can compare the sound to is the tinkering of wind chimes swaying in the wind - if it's flowers or succulents. Other plants are different. Cacti tend to sound crackly, like dead leaves scraping against the sidewalk as the wind blows them away.

Taehyung doesn't know how to respond to his plants in their language, but they seem to understand him just fine when he speaks to them in Korean. Though, spoken language is only sometimes needed. Pheromones and gentle fingers caressing soft petals are love languages all on their own. Still, when Taehyung enters his dorm, he's sure his plants will have strong words to throw at him for disappearing for so long. It's only been three days since the last time Taehyung was at his dorm, but plants don't perceive time the same way humans do.

The residence hall lobby is empty when Taehyung pushes open the front doors. It's too early for parties to start. Once the night hits, the building will be swarming with rowdy, intoxicated students ready to blow off steam and celebrate the end of midterm evaluations.

Like most kids planning to attend college, Taehyung had dreamed of the parties he saw in movies, full of bright lights and laughter around drinking games, maybe even a few drunken kisses stolen in a corner somewhere. Four years later and he can count the number of college parties he's been to on one hand. There are other more important things to do than drown himself in alcohol and grovel for the attention of people who don't deserve it.

The sound of the elevator reaching the lobby startles Taehyung, even though he was the one to press the button. He holds onto the straps of his backpack as he waits for the elevator door to open, pulling on them slightly to take some of the pressure off his back. His bag is typically heavy with textbooks, but it's weighed down even more by the clothes and toiletries he'd brought with him for his stay at Jungkook and Namjoon's dorm.

"Taehyung-ah! Speak of the devil, and he shall appear!"

Taehyung hardly has time to inhale before he's crushed into a rather violent hug. His arms are squished so tightly to his sides that he fears the pressure might break his collar bones.

Okay, maybe he's being slightly dramatic, but he's tired.

"Hey, Hobi," Taehyung manages to greet the yellow-haired boy without wheezing too terribly.

"I knew you were on your way," Hoseok grins. He finally lets go of Taehyung, who nearly collapses into his friend's arms as he struggles to find his footing. "I swear, I can hear that brain of yours from halfway across campus. Does your internal monologue ever shut up?"

A pinch of his tricep makes Taehyung yelp, even through his jacket, but it's Hoseok's way of reassuring his friend that he's only kidding around.

"Don't you have an internal monologue?" Taehyung inquires, rubbing his hand over the spot on his arm that Hoseok pinched.

"Yeah, mine and everyone else's."

Hoseok is such a whirlwind of activity; it's a wonder his powers don't involve superspeed. Even the enthusiasm of his hugs points toward superhuman strength, but his only powers are telepathy and telekinesis. Classic superpowers, typically the ones kids say they wish they could have if they ever grew up to be superheroes.

It's all somewhat overwhelming for Taehyung. He never feels like he knows how to interact with the senior. Despite Hoseok's friendliness, his ability to get inside Taehyung's head is off-putting. Every interaction with Hoseok makes Taehyung worry he might think of something embarrassing and never be able to look him in the face again.

"You're stressing him out, Hoseok," an amused voice scolds.

Taehyung hops on his tiptoes to snatch his backpack from the air, where Hoseok uses his powers to levitate it just out of his reach, so Taehyung doesn’t notice the second person exiting the elevator behind Hoseok.

“I don’t actually listen to his thoughts,” Hoseok pouts as arms snake around his waist and a chin rests on his shoulder. “I just hear them.”

The blonde attaching himself to Hoseok’s back like a koala giggles. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Park Jimin! Stop making me sound like a villain.”

A devilish grin twists Jimin’s previously sweet face. His grey eyes flicker toward Taehyung, and Taehyung shudders when Jimin winks at him.

“And is being a villain all that bad?”

If Hoseok’s powers are off-putting, Jimin’s entire demeanor is kind of terrifying. There’s something slippery about how he curls around Hoseok, his voice smoothing out until it’s a hypnotic lullaby. Taehyung thinks Jimin can probably see straight into his soul with such piercing eyes. They’re alluring in the way a flame is to a moth.

Taehyung had never met a villain before he met Jimin during his sophomore year, although technically, Jimin is still a trainee. He doesn’t attend SNU; Taehyung isn’t sure where villain trainees go to hone their craft. It’s not something they ever discuss, nor is Taehyung interested in doing so. Now that he thinks about it, he can’t even remember what Jimin’s powers are.

Honestly, Taehyung doesn’t spend much time with the two. They’re Yoongi’s friends, which makes them an odd group: a hero, a sidekick, and a villain. Hoseok and Yoongi used to be roommates, but Taehyung isn’t sure how Jimin fits into the equation. He suspects Hoseok and Jimin are a thing, but it’s never been officially confirmed.

Despite Taehyung’s reservations about the two, if they’re Yoongi’s friends, Taehyung trusts and accepts them.

“Yes, that is literally the definition of what a villain is,” Hoseok scoffs with a roll of his eyes. It might seem like a confrontational dig, but Jimin isn’t offended if his giggling means anything.

“It’s fun to be bad.”

Another roll of Hoseok’s eyes. “Sure. Anyway, Taehyung-ah, I haven’t seen you in ages. We were hanging out at your place.”

It goes without saying that the two had been with Yoongi. Guilt twists Taehyung’s gut at the thought of his roommate alone in their apartment, coming home from his job at the infirmary to an empty dorm. Taehyung wonders what Yoongi does when he’s not around. He wonders if he misses him.

Shaking his head as if he can dispel such thoughts (that, unfortunately, Hoseok might hear!), Taehyung rushes to excuse himself.

“I’ve been really busy, sorry! But I have to get going, have a lot of work to do, and have to prep for the end of the quarter.”

Hoseok’s forehead wrinkles when he furrows his eyebrows. “We just had midterms, and it’s the weekend. You should relax.”

Taehyung gives the pair a weak smile and a shrug of his shoulders.

“There’s always something to do, right?”

“Heroes and sidekicks are weird,” Jimin muses with a low mumble. He presses a sneaky kiss against the side of Hoseok’s neck and skips away toward the lobby's front doors. “Hyung, let’s leave Taehyungie to his studies. I don’t want to find out all his evil plans to take me down in the future.”

Taehyung watches the pair playfully bicker just long enough to confirm they’re truly exiting the building before he jams his thumb against the elevator button again.

He hopes Hoseok and Jimin are far from the residence hall when he steps out of the elevator on the seventh floor. He’s unsure how Hoseok’s telepathy works, but he’s terrified that the sidekick might decipher the jumble of thoughts rolling around in his head like a tumbleweed. Taehyung can hardly understand them himself; it’s all a convoluted mess of  Yoongi. At least Taehyung knows his roommate is home now. If nothing else, Hoseok and Jimin prepared him to face his fears. 

The inside of the dorm is bright despite the darkness that blankets the night outside. Mood lighting casts a warm glow in each room. The entryway opens to the living room on the right of the door and the small kitchen to the left. Directly in front of Taehyung is the hallway leading to his and Yoongi’s bedrooms and their shared bathroom. It’s nothing extravagant; it’s a university apartment, after all. But Taehyung has grown to love their dorm in the few months they’ve lived here - despite his tendency to disappear for days. 

Kicking off his shoes, Taehyung first heads to the living room to drop his backpack on the floor beside the couch. He would have made a beeline for his bedroom, but a soft voice pulls him into the kitchen.

“Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi greets with a small smile. He’s hunched over a pot on the stove, poking at whatever’s simmering in the pot with a pair of chopsticks. 

“Hi, hyung.” 

Despite being same-age friends, Taehyung has always shown Yoongi respect for being a few months older than him. There’s just something about the man’s demeanor that commands that type of respect, perhaps due to how confident and caring he is. The honorific still amuses Yoongi despite the two of them being friendly with each other for nearly two years now. He scrunches his cute little button nose, and Taehyung has to look away because his heart does something painful. 

Taehyung sits on the barstool at the island in the middle of the kitchen. With his elbows against the countertop, he holds his face in his hands and watches Yoongi. It’s easier to look at him like this since his roommate turns his back away from him as he returns his attention to the stove. 

“What’re you making?” 

“Jjapaguri. Have you eaten dinner?”

Taehyung can’t help but giggle. The sound makes Yoongi peer over his shoulder, and Taehyung quickly looks away. 

“What?” The blue-haired man inquires as he turns off the stove. 

“Just thinking about how all we ever eat is noodles.” 

“Broke college kid budget.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Answer my question.” 

Taehyung lowers his hands to rest on the countertop. His cuticles are picked red and raw. Unfortunately, it’s a nervous habit from childhood that he has brought with him into adulthood. 

“I ate at Jungkook and Namjoon’s.” 

It feels like admitting a dirty secret, made worse by the fact that Yoongi doesn’t respond. It’s silent as Yoongi shuffles around the kitchen in his slippers. Taehyung knows Yoongi wears them because he hates how cold the tile flooring is against his toes. He opens one of the cabinets to find a bowl and has to stand on his tiptoes to reach the second shelf, making him grumble.  

“Taehyung-ah,” he groans once his fingers hook around the edge of a bowl. “Quit putting everything up so high.” 

“Grow taller, maybe?” 

When all Taehyung gets is a middle finger in response, he laughs. 

Taehyung doesn’t mean to put things out of Yoongi’s reach - at least, not consciously. He would never want to inconvenience his friend. Still, perhaps an evil part of his subconscious makes the decision for him because he likes the little sounds Yoongi makes when he’s frustrated and the way his shorts ride up his thighs from brushing against the counter when he leans forward. 

Fuck, Taehyung shouldn’t be thinking about his roommate’s thighs. He tries to bring his focus back on the skin around his fingernails, but Yoongi is, as always, exceptionally distracting. 

“You can have some later if you get hungry,” Yoongi says with a tilt of his head toward the pot. He leans against the counter, bringing the bowl close to his face as he slurps large chunks of noodles into his mouth.

For someone as patient and respectful as Yoongi, he certainly eats like he has no manners, messy and loud. Sometimes he talks with his chopsticks, clicking them in the air like he’s punctuating his sentences with them. 

Taehyung doesn’t care; no matter the flecks of food Yoongi might get on his chin or the greedy way he eats his fill once he’s offered food to everyone else, Taehyung always finds him gorgeous. It’s rather pathetic how he can’t keep his eyes off his roommate. There’s so much for Taehyung to admire, from Yoongi’s broad shoulders whose muscles ripple beneath his shirt to his growing biceps that are evidence of the time he’s been spending in the gym - much to Taehyung’s excitement. Despite his evolving body type, Yoongi maintains a softness that Taehyung rarely sees in male hero trainees aside from maybe Namjoon. There’s just something about Yoongi’s gummy smile that makes Taehyung’s insides melt into a puddle.

And don’t even get Taehyung started on how adorable Yoongi’s everchanging hair colors are or how his bangs fall into his eyes, fluffy and a bit too long now that he needs another haircut.   

And then there’s the kindness behind Yoongi’s eyes when he looks at Taehyung that leaves Taehyung breathless because sometimes it looks like the same adoration Taehyung is sure he looks at Yoongi with. He won’t get his hopes up, though. 

Taehyung isn’t sure how his crush became so debilitating. It started as a casual interest two years ago when Jungkook introduced them at a party as his peer mentor since Jungkook was merely a first-year trainee at the time. Yoongi was - is - the perfect mentor for young trainees.

But the true hopelessness came after Taehyung innocently agreed to live with Yoongi for their last school year. It was stupid, really. What was he thinking, assuming his crush wouldn’t grow exponentially once he was faced with Yoongi every single day, becoming privy to the most intimate aspects of his life?

“Thanks, hyung,” Taehyung finally speaks once he realizes he’s been staring too long at Yoongi without responding. He only notices his mistake when Yoongi raises an eyebrow, cheeks puffy with noodles. 

No one should fault Taehyung for looking, though. Yoongi wears an oversized graphic tee, the image printed on it so faded from wear that Taehyung can’t make out what it’s supposed to be. It falls about mid-thigh, just high enough to reveal a sliver of his blue pajama shorts. It’s hard not to stare at the creamy skin of his thighs and wonder if they’re just as soft as they look.

His blue hair is fluffy and wispy, freshly showered, and brushed forward to fall in his eyes. He smells like eucalyptus and peppermint when he walks around the kitchen island to stand beside Taehyung. 

Yoongi swallows before he speaks. “What’s going on? Hobah said you had a lot on your mind.” 

Taehyung grimaces at that, and Yoongi lets out a quiet laugh. It reveals his gummy smile, so naturally, Taehyung has to smile, too. 

“I hate that he knows what I’m thinking,” Taehyung whines with a pout.

“He tries not to pry,” Yoongi counters with a click of his chopsticks in the air. He opens his mouth to say more, but he doesn’t speak. Instead, his eyes roam Taehyung’s face long enough to make the younger man adjust uncomfortably in his seat under pressure. 

“What?” Taehyung finally croaks out and internally cringes at the high pitch of his voice. 

A light smirk plays at the corner of Yoongi’s mouth when he responds, “Though he said you were thinking about me.” 

“I-I, I  what?”  

Setting his bowl on the counter, Yoongi laughs from deep within his belly. He reaches out to press comforting fingers to Taehyung’s waist. “I’m just fucking with-” 

Yoongi’s teasing is cut off by a ceramic pot exploding. Dirt sprays in the air, coating nearly every surface in the kitchen, as one of Taehyung’s succulents sitting on the counter is thrown out of its pot. Taehyung lets out an embarrassing yelp as another explosion occurs immediately after the first. This time, Taehyung’s favorite boatlily, sitting on a stand in the corner of the room, launches into the air. 

“Jesus Christ, fuck!” Yoongi curses. He ducks his head down, raising his arms to shield his face. He may have healing powers, but that doesn’t mean getting cut open by shards of ceramic pots wouldn’t hurt. 

Taehyung hurries over to the corner of the room, where both plants are scattered on the floor. He sinks to his knees and scrambles to scoop the loose clumps of dirt into small piles, wracking his brain to remember if he has any spare pots in his bedroom or a closet somewhere.

All the plants in the dorm are panicking, releasing sour pheromones into the air that make Taehyung feel dizzy. It’s embarrassing, but he can’t get a grip on himself when fat tears slide hotly down his cheeks. Between the stress and sadness from the plants, and the frustration and fear growing in the pit of Taehyung’s stomach, he can barely keep his hands from trembling as he stands with the two plants in his hands. 

This can’t keep happening to him. 

“Taehyung…” 

Turning his head to the side, Taehyung tries to wipe the tears off his face with his shoulder. He doesn’t want Yoongi to see him so emotional, but when he turns around, he realizes Yoongi isn’t looking at him.

Following his roommate’s gaze, Taehyung gasps in horror. Thorny, flowering vines creep out of the kitchen sink, growing from the faucet and the drains. They crawl out of the plumbing like snakes, weaving and curling around each other on the kitchen counter. 

“I’m not, I-I d-d-don’t,” Taehyung stutters, wide eyes flitting between the vines and Yoongi’s shocked expression.

He tries to get a feel for the vines with his mind. The connection is there but distant, as though the vines hover at the edge of Taehyung’s consciousness. He can’t get a hold of them or stop them from stretching down the counter and reaching the floor as they slowly creep toward Yoongi. 

“Just breathe, Tae,” Yoongi instructs him softly. Taehyung can barely hear him over the chattering of the plants. “Take a deep breath and look at me.” 

“I can’t.” Taehyung shakes his head. Sweat wets his golden bangs and makes them curl. 

“Yes, you can. Just breathe.” 

Taehyung shakes his head but closes his eyes when he feels Yoongi’s fingers slide through his hair. With a firm but gentle hand, Yoongi holds the back of Taehyung’s head and pulls Taehyung against him, careful not to crush the plants he’s holding. Yoongi coaxes Taehyung to bring his face to Yoongi’s shoulder, and Taehyung lets himself nuzzle against him and breathes eucalyptus and peppermint. 

“That’s it,” Yoongi praises the steadying of Taehyung’s breathing once his hiccuping subsides. 

It’s an awkward position. Taehyung has to hunch his shoulders slightly because he’s taller than Yoongi, and Yoongi has a firm grip on his head, pulling him downward. But it’s comforting to feel the slow rise and fall of Yoongi’s shoulders as he breathes and to be enveloped by Yoongi’s comforting scent.

Taehyung has always been sensitive to smells; he supposes it comes with his powers, though it isn’t something he’s ever talked to anyone about. Every person has their own scent that Taehyung likes to think reflects their personality. Yoongi’s is just as comforting as he is as a person. 

Eventually, Yoongi lets go. He doesn’t allow Taehyung to go far, though. Almost timidly, he cradles Taehyung’s face in his large hands. When he rubs his thumbs across Taehyung’s cheeks to dry his tears, Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut. It hurts too much to look at the kindness on Yoongi’s face when Taehyung knows he’ll never get the adoration he so desperately craves from him. 

“What’s going on with you, Tae?” It’s spoken gently, as though Yoongi is stepping into territory he’s uncomfortable with like perhaps Taehyung is a live wire wiggling out of control. “This is the third time…” 

“I don’t know,” Taehyung whispers. He turns his head to the side, and Yoongi’s hands fall from his face. “I’m going to clean this up.” 

“No, don’t worry about it. Hyung’s got it,” Yoongi insists despite Taehyung’s protests. “Let me help, okay?” 

There isn’t much Taehyung can do when Yoongi fetches a broom from their hallway closet. He stands there for a few seconds, watching Yoongi pick up shards of the ceramic pots to throw away the large pieces before he starts sweeping up dirt and smaller pieces of the pots. He stands with his plants cradled against his chest and struggles to breathe.

The plants’ pheromones are suffocating. His feelings for Yoongi are suffocating. The terrifying reality that Taehyung has been slowly losing control of his powers for months is suffocating. 

It’s been more than three times. Yoongi has only seen Taehyung lose control three times, but it’s happened more often when Yoongi hasn’t noticed. At first, it was little things, like his plants sprouting new shoots or stems, when Taehyung felt a spike of energy jolt him. Then the explosions started happening, which were the ones Yoongi noticed (how could he not?). Vines growing from the plumbing, though… Taehyung doesn’t even want to consider what that means. 

And yet Hoseok is right; his brain never turns off. The internal monologue of stress and uncertainty rambles on until Taehyung feels he can’t escape his own brain. 

Without another word, Taehyung spins around and walks briskly out of the kitchen, trying to suppress the childish desire to run. He ignores Yoongi’s call of his name and closes his bedroom door on the sound. 

He tells himself he’s not hiding away in his room. He tells himself he’s in here because he has spare pots and an unopened bag of potting soil stashed in his closet - items he recently bought and has yet to bring to the greenhouse. 

With his forearm, Taehyung shoves everything to the side of his desk to make room for his plants. He discards his plants on the desk and digs through his closet until he finds two pots buried beneath a pile of bags with various gardening supplies. With the pots in one arm, he drags the bag of potting soil to his desk. It’s quick work to repot the plants, especially for how often Taehyung has done this, but he takes his time. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to the plants, and they forgive him even though they shouldn’t. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me… Do I seem off? Can you tell?” 

He can’t help but feel hopeful as he brushes dirt from their leaves. The boatlily is named Bobby, and the succulent (a jade plant) is named Jisung. Taehyung went through a list of names when he first got the plants, trying to find ones they liked. Bobby and Jisung seemed good enough because the plants didn’t protest once he stuck with them. 

Unfortunately, Bobby the Boatlily and Jisung the Jade Plant don’t have answers for Taehyung. He feels a little silly asking his plants. It should be a real person he asks, like Yoongi or Seokjin - the greenhouse caretaker and another plant empath. But Taehyung is determined to figure this out on his own. It may just take time - time he doesn’t have, but he tries not to think about that as he pours water into the two pots from the water bottle he had sitting on his nightstand. 

He’ll be fine. 

🌼

Taehyung wakes to the unrelenting autumn sunlight pushing through the blinds he forgot to close the night before. He smacks his lips a few times, running his tongue along his teeth and cringing. He hadn’t brushed his teeth before bed, nor had he washed his face; he remembers when he touches his nose and his fingertips are oily.

He groans, throwing his arm over his eyes to block the sun. The warmth feels good on his skin even if he doesn’t want the sun in his eyes. Namjoon likes to joke that Taehyung photosynthesizes, and honestly, Taehyung doesn’t think he’s wrong. Sometimes, he feels like he’s more plant than human. He certainly gets along with plants better.

Then again, even the plants are no longer on his side.

With a sigh, Taehyung rolls over onto his stomach. His blankets are strewn around, mostly tangled between his legs. At least he had the mind to change into his pajamas in his distraught state. Even if his mouth tastes stale and he’s at risk of developing pimples, Taehyung would much rather stay in bed than venture out. It feels early enough that Yoongi is probably still home, not yet on his way to his internship. There’s no way Taehyung is embarrassing himself again in front of his crush.

(Because, yes, this is a crush. And, no, Taehyung won’t ever admit that out loud.)

Bemoaning that his backpack is still in the living room and he can’t work on his homework, Taehyung decides it’s best to force himself to go back to sleep. Just as he settles into his fluffy pillow, arms crossed around it beneath his head, his phone buzzes in the blankets.

With one eye open, Taehyung sorts through the blankets while still lying on his stomach, unwilling to get up if he can’t find it in this position. But he immediately sits up when he sees a certain blue-haired boy’s contact flash across his phone screen.

Taehyung’s face flushes at the reminder that he completely wrecked the kitchen last night. Bless Yoongi, sweet Yoongi, for treating him so kindly. Yoongi could have teased him or gotten angry, but he always treated Taehyung with gentleness.

Taehyung presses his fingers against his cheek, still feeling the brush of Yoongi’s thumbs as he’d dried his tears after the incident. He wants to tell Yoongi that he adores him, that Yoongi's approval is everything he’s ever wanted, and that Taehyung wishes he could be more than just some nerdy, socially awkward roommate. He wants to tell Yoongi that he wakes up every morning driven by the fact that he gets to walk outside his bedroom and see Yoongi lounging with a book in the living room or sliding around in his slippers in the kitchen.

He wants to tell Yoongi that he thinks maybe he loves him and has loved him since the moment he met him.

With a shaky breath, Taehyung fumbles with his phone as he quickly types a response that is nowhere near the truth he wishes he could share with Yoongi. But it’s all he’s willing to share, and he knows that Yoongi will be gentle with him no matter what he says.

Taehyung thinks he would promise Yoongi anything.

Taehyung thinks he would promise Yoongi anything but that.

The promise of a sweet snack instead of a real breakfast is enough to lure Taehyung out of bed. Embarrassment still riddles his stomach with twisted nerves, but Taehyung focuses on the memory of Yoongi’s hands cradling his face and reminds himself that this is Yoongi.

Taehyung drapes his blanket around his shoulders and shuffles out of his bedroom like a baby swaddled in a fabric cocoon. It’s warm and safe in his blanket cocoon. And, perhaps, Yoongi will think he’s cute as he rounds the corner, slipping and sliding into the kitchen on his socks.

Yoongi is already standing at the stove preparing the tasty street food.

“Morning, Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi says with a small smile. Cinnamon wafts through the air, greeting Taehyung just as warmly as Yoongi had. He picked Taehyung’s favorite flavor.

“Hi, hyung.”

“How did you sleep?”

Taehyung shrugs, and the entire blanket lifts with his shoulders. “Could’ve been better.”

Yoongi hums in response. The two fall into a comfortable silence, with only the sound of the stove (and, for Taehyung, the chatter of plants) interrupting the quiet.

Taehyung hovers at Yoongi’s side to watch the process. They’ve established a perfect balance since living together: Yoongi cooks, and Taehyung cleans up afterward. Sometimes Yoongi offers to teach Taehyung, but the opportunities have dwindled since Taehyung cut himself trying to trim meat. Even though healing him had taken Yoongi little effort, Taehyung had been, admittedly, a giant baby about it.

The vines are still clogging the kitchen sink, but they aren’t as scary-looking as they had been last night. They’re rolled up and neatly placed inside the sink rather than thrown around the kitchen like before. Yoongi must have moved them out of the way while Taehyung was sleeping.

Dirt no longer blankets the off-white tile floor, and no shards of terracotta pots are tossed around the room. Knowing Yoongi had to clean up his mess makes Taehyung’s neck and face heat up, so he avoids looking at that side of the kitchen.

Yoongi nudges his elbow into Taehyung's ribs and points with his chin at a pair of tongs resting on the counter.

Taehyung snakes his arm from his blanket cape to pass the utensil to Yoongi, which he then uses to flip the two hotteok growing crispy on the oiled pan. Taehyung loves the sizzling sound the oil makes. It reminds him of summers in the city, wandering through street food vendors and snacking to his heart's content while enjoying nature's murmur.

"I was thinking we should do something to celebrate the end of midterms," Yoongi casually offers.

"Did Jimin and Hoseok put you up to this?" Taehyung questions with a pout. The two seemed up to no good the day before. Taehyung doesn’t know how much he’ll enjoy going out clubbing with them – which is what he's sure they’ve recommended doing.

"No, no." Yoongi shakes his head. His hair sways with the movement, the strands fluffy and sticking out in every direction. Bedhead looks exceptionally cute on him, Taehyung thinks. "I only meant me and you."

Taehyung's heart leaps in his chest, and he struggles to stamp down the excitement thrumming through him. Nothing has even happened. He shouldn't be buzzing with excitement, fuck. He pulls his blanket tighter around his shoulders and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He's not sure if he looks nonchalant like this.

It's likely impossible to take him seriously with looking all wrapped up like a swaddled baby, but he does his best to hold a relaxed posture when he asks, "What would you want to do?"

Yoongi shrugs. He uses the tongs to flip the hotteok again. The cakes hiss like they're scolding Taehyung's overly eager heart.

"We haven't spent much time together in a while." The truth of Yoongi's words sparks guilt in the pit of Taehyung's stomach. It's a sobering feeling.

"Senior year has been busy..."

Yoongi clucks his tongue and shakes his head, interrupting Taehyung's weak excuses. When Taehyung peeks at Yoongi's face out of the corner of his eye, he's met with a small smile.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Taehyung-ah. I know how important school is to you." Yoongi speaks as though school isn't important to him, too.

Taehyung knows that Yoongi frequently pulls all-nighters because he decided to overload the number of classes he's taking. It's because he started school on the Sidekick program and, at the recommendation of his academic advisor, decided to switch to the Hero program.

Perhaps Yoongi thought his powers weren't impressive as a hero, like Taehyung. Taehyung doesn't know the true motive behind the switch. All he knows is that he admires Yoongi for daring to push himself despite the odds. There was always the possibility that he wouldn't graduate on time, that he would fail, or that being a hero just wasn't for him. Yet here he is, working harder than everyone Taehyung knows – all with a humble smile and kind eyes.

God, is there anything that isn't admirable about the man?

Taehyung blinks a few times, belatedly realizing he's been staring at Yoongi's side profile. The stove has been switched off, and the hotteok sits on a plate Yoongi holds out to Taehyung.

"Uh, yeah," Taehyung fumbles his words, too focused on trying to take the plate and keep the blanket around his shoulders. "I didn't... um, do so great. On the midterm examinations, I mean."

Yoongi pulls out a chair for Taehyung at the kitchen table. He watches with fond eyes, waiting for Taehyung to sit down before he does on the opposite side of the table.

"That was my fault, wasn't it?" Yoongi's words seem apologetic, but there's a playful spark dancing in his eyes, and the corners of his mouth twitch. Taehyung doesn’t quite know what to make of it, aside from the fact that the expression makes him incredibly embarrassed.

Taehyung inhales sharply and chokes on a piece of hotteok. It is Yoongi’s fault, but there’s no way Taehyung is telling him that.

"No!" He nearly shouts in between bouts of violent coughing. When Yoongi gets up to help, Taehyung frantically waves him away. "I'm fine," he sputters with a hand pressed to his chest. "It, I wasn't, you didn't do anything wrong."

“I picked that dandelion.”

Taehyung fervently shakes his head, but Yoongi’s mind has been made. He’s convinced that it was the dandelion. And it was, but again, Taehyung wouldn’t dream of admitting that out loud.

“I didn’t perform my best.” Taehyung takes a large bit out of his hotteok to give him time to stall as he figures out what to say. “That’s on me.”

Yoongi gives Taehyung a once-over, and he has never felt more self-conscious in his entire life.

“I didn’t realize you could feel the plant when I picked it. I’m really sorry.” Whatever mischief played at Yoongi’s expression is gone now. He returns to his seat across from Taehyung and folds his hands on the table. He looks solemn as he speaks, the seriousness dripping from his tone like bitter honey.

Taehyung has never told Yoongi that he can feel plants’ life forces, but Yoongi is astute – both a blessing and a curse for Taehyung. He shoves more food in his mouth and chews as slowly as possible without looking ridiculous. He must not, considering Yoongi watches him fondly, even if the soft look is tainted by guilt.

“It’s okay. You didn’t know,” Taehyung mumbles around food that makes his cheeks puff out. He swears he turns into a baby around Yoongi. Perhaps it’s because he knows Yoongi will care for him, and Taehyung gets tired of being the responsible one in his friend group when Yoongi isn’t around.

Well, his only true friends besides Yoongi are Namjoon and Jungkook, but those two are plenty for him.

“Still, it was shitty of me,” Yoongi pushes without needing to. Nothing would make Taehyung upset with him, even when Taehyung’s heart breaks a little bit every time Yoongi acts sweet like this.

There isn’t a particular moment that triggered Taehyung’s heartache. He likes to view it as an inevitable fate that built up steadily over time, although living with Yoongi accelerated the ache in his chest. It’s like being thirsty in the desert with an oasis rippling on the horizon. Taehyung keeps crawling toward it, dragging his body through the sand, but the reprieve is always just out of reach.

One moment does stand out, though. It was the confirmation that Taehyung would be doomed for eternity.

It was only a few weeks after Taehyung and Yoongi moved in together. Their entire friend group lounged in the tiny living room. Namjoon, unfortunately, had to share the couch with Hoseok and Jimin, who, as usual, couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Jungkook snuggled into the beanbag in the corner, leaving Taehyung and Yoongi to sit on pillows beside the coffee table.

They were playing some type of questions game designed to help people get to know each other better. Hoseok had won it at a drag bingo event hosted by the LGBTQ+ student group on campus. His enthusiasm for playing significantly outweighed everyone else’s, and even though Yoongi isn’t particularly fond of games, he rounded everyone up to appease his best friend.

That was Yoongi’s way, always accommodating and thoughtful. How someone could know Yoongi and not fall in love with him was beyond Taehyung.

“Some of these questions are weird,” Namjoon noted. His glasses slipped to the bridge of his nose, but he’d long given up on pushing them back into place. The way he held out the card to read it made Jungkook giggle. He certainly looked like a disgruntled old man.

“Oh, just read the card, hyung,” Jungkook groaned in overplayed exasperation.

Namjoon shot the maknae a stern look before reading, “Hookup Do’s and Don’t’s: How many friends have you slept with?”

Jimin threw his head against the back of the couch and let out the evilest laugh Taehyung had ever heard – and he felt that way, not just because Jimin was a villain trainee.

“Wow, that’s gold. How did we get here from asking about our earliest childhood memories?” Jimin wiped away the tears that had collected on his eyelashes.

Honestly, Taehyung had been surprised by how many of them actually remembered things from a very early age. He felt he could barely remember what he had eaten for breakfast the previous day. Too many more important things were filed away in his brain.

“Well? Who’s gonna start?” Jungkook wiggled into a more comfortable position to stare down everyone in the room. Always the instigator.

Unease twisted Taehyung’s gut, and he hated that he automatically looked at Yoongi sitting beside him. What would it mean to learn the answer to this question? Taehyung never took the time to consider Yoongi’s love life. Since meeting him, Taehyung had never heard Yoongi talk about a significant other or even casual hookups. When their friends’ conversations strayed toward content more sexual in nature, Yoongi rarely participated. Neither did Taehyung, but that was just because Taehyung was the scary “v” word and had nothing to contribute to the conversation.

Yoongi didn’t look particularly affected by the bold question; he simply fiddled with the beer resting on the coffee table in front of him, running his index finger along the condensation on the glass.

“Hyung, you’re the oldest; you go first.” Taehyung was speaking before his brain even knew what was happening. It was forced out, exhaled like wind sweeping autumn leaves along the sidewalk.

Yoongi’s gaze shot up to lock with Taehyung’s. He raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth, but whatever his response was going to be was interrupted by Hoseok’s whining.

“Go on, Yoongi-ya. Tell us all your dirty secrets,” Hoseok giggled through his words as if he didn’t already know everything there was to know about his best friend.

“I don’t date friends.”

“That wasn’t the question,” Jimin pointed out. His eyes were sharp and a dangerous light blue from his contacts.

“I don’t hook up with friends, either. Never ends well,” Yoongi admitted with a shrug.

Groans filled the room as the rest of the group resented how boring Yoongi’s answer was. The attention shifted to Jungkook, who had plenty of disaster stories because the kid fell in love with everyone he met.

Well, everyone’s attention shifted except Taehyung’s. He sat frozen in place, staring at the side of Yoongi’s face as he listened to Jungkook’s stories. Yoongi doesn’t date his friends. Of course, he didn’t. Dating friends is messy; everyone knows that.

Taehyung liked to think Yoongi was his friend.

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, Taehyung had forced himself to look away from Yoongi. The sick feeling churning in his gut distracted him, and he didn’t notice the sympathetic look Hoseok gave him when no one else was paying attention.

“Taehyung?”

Blinking rapidly, Taehyung straightens his posture. Yoongi is watching him with his forehead wrinkled with concern. It makes Taehyung inhale deeply to calm himself down. Since when has he lost his grip on things so severely? He feels like a mess and hates that, somehow, he has become a person who frets and trembles his way through life. Taehyung has always been so sure of himself, even if it was out of spite against those who doubt him.

But now? He’s all clammy hands and nibbled lips.

“Sorry,” Taehyung rushes to reply.

Yoongi leans forward on his elbows and examines Taehyung. His hotteok is finished, so he has nothing to do as Yoongi looks him over. Taehyung knows Yoongi doesn’t buy his lies, even the unspoken ones. Taehyung said sorry, but it meant, “I’m fine.” And Yoongi doesn’t believe him one bit.

“Taehyung,” Yoongi starts again, this time with a much softer tone. He interlaces his fingers beneath his chin and cocks his head to the side while watching Taehyung. He licks his lips, and Taehyung’s gaze drops, following the motion with a fixed gaze he can’t seem to shake. “Taehyung-ah, I–”

Whatever Yoongi is about to say gets cut off by the sound of wind chimes. The alarm on his phone startles them; Taehyung can practically feel the soundwaves bouncing around in his head.

Yoongi digs into his pockets to turn off the alarm, using his pinky to quickly swipe through what Taehyung assumes are new notifications. Sighing, he slips his phone back into his pocket and leans back in his chair.

“Need to leave for work?” Taehyung asks in a small voice that dances along the line of disappointed and desperate.

“Unfortunately.” Yoongi pushes himself up. He runs a hand down his chest, smoothing out his white button-up shirt. He looks cute in his professional clothing, the dress shirt and tan slacks with loafers so different from the baggy t-shirts, basketball shorts, and sneakers he usually wears.

Taehyung loves him in anything. He would probably love him in nothing, too.

The inappropriate thought makes his chest hot, and he quickly pushes it out of his mind.

“I’ll be back later. I can text you if you want to eat dinner together?” Taehyung thinks there’s a hopefulness in Yoongi’s tone, but he tries not to read into what that might mean – or if it’s even really there. “We can talk about how we want to celebrate.”

“Sounds good!”

Yoongi slips on his crossbody leather bag and puts on his shoes before giving Taehyung a wave goodbye.

It’s only once the door closes that Taehyung gets up. He takes his time washing the dishes and hums a little song to the plants as he suds up the sink, grateful that it’s a double sink so he can ignore the coiled vines gathered on the left side. He tries not to overthink how Yoongi might want to celebrate the end of their midterms with him, especially when his insecurity peeks through the happiness he feels at the prospect of spending one-on-one time with him.

What if Yoongi offers quality time with Taehyung because he pities Taehyung? What if he simply feels sorry for him for being so weak during his evaluations?

Taehyung lets out a long sigh as he drags his feet to his bedroom. The desire to flop back into bed is strong, but he shoulders off his blanket and forces himself to get ready for the day now that he has a full belly.

Bobby the Boatlily chitters from his place on Taehyung’s desk; he’d forgotten to return his plants to the kitchen.

“Bobby,” Taehyung groans, covering his face with both hands. The little shit of a plant teases Taehyung for how awkward he’s behaving, and Taehyung knows it’s the pheromones he’s giving off. It's ridiculous, honestly, that his own plants are making fun of him.

“Don’t make me take you to the greenhouse!” Taehyung’s threats are empty and hardly believable with the boxy grin he wears. He reaches out to flick some stray dirt from Bobby’s leaves.

Having his plant friends is nice, but sometimes Taehyung wonders if it’s all worth it.

🌼

The greenhouse for the School for Superhuman Abilities isn’t very big. Not many students use it, as far as Taehyung can tell, since he rarely encounters another person besides Seokjin during his visits. It’s attached to the academic building for the Natural Sciences, where most of Taehyung’s classes and training take place. There is a small storage room for gardening supplies and a little cubby where Taehyung typically stashes his backpack and jacket for safekeeping. He replaces them with an apron he keeps hooked to a rusty rung nailed into the wall behind the storage room door. The apron is mossy green and caked with dried mud, but it has pockets for Taehyung’s shovels, spray bottle, and other small supplies. A little dirt never killed anybody.

Well, maybe, but not like this.

Taehyung weaves his way through the rows of plants – everything from standard flowers and houseplants to edible plants grown for use by the University kitchens and experimental splicing and propagation Seokjin has been dabbling in lately. He always thought if a heroic life didn’t pan out for him, he’d find a job working at a greenhouse or nursery. The older he gets, the more a simple life with his plants sounds appealing compared to heroism – or even villainy, for that matter.

Seokjin is in the back of the greenhouse. Taehyung hears him hum a song, something off today’s top radio hits, and it makes him smile. No matter what mood Taehyung is in, Seokjin manages to lift his spirits, even if it’s just by a little.

“Taehyung-ah, you’re here earlier than usual.”

“Hi, hyung. How did you know it was me?” Taehyung asks with a wrinkle of his nose as he stands across the aisle from where Seokjin tends to his row of specialty plants.

“The plants told me, of course.” Seokjin boops Taehyung on the nose as he walks past to retrieve a few supplies he’s left scattered around. This behavior is nothing Taehyung isn’t accustomed to.

“They’re so intrusive.”

The plants’ chattering increases as they reject Taehyung’s criticism. It’s cute, and Taehyung tells them as much. The compliment pacifies them, but only slightly.

“How are you doing? You smell stressed.”

Right, pheromones. Sometimes, Taehyung forgets that Seokjin can pick up on his; it’s hard to remember when no one else Taehyung knows has that ability.

“I have a question, actually…” Taehyung wiggles his bottom lip between his teeth. The wind chapped them on his walk over, and the left corner of his mouth stings like the skin might have split. Taehyung hopes it doesn’t bleed.

“Hmm?” Seokjin raises his eyebrows in question.

“Is there a way to, like, stop your powers?”

“Stop them?”

“Yeah…” Taehyung gradually trails off as his confidence wanes. “Like, say someone didn’t want to always affect plants. Is there a way to turn that off? So that they’re not always connected to the nature around them?”

Seokjin turns to face Taehyung. He leans against the potting table, wrapping his fingers around the table's edge on either side of his hips.

“And why would someone want to do that?”

Taehyung shrugs because, as intelligent as he is, he hasn’t thought this through. It had been wishful thinking to assume Seokjin would answer Taehyung’s questions about having a few of his own. No matter how badly Taehyung wants to keep his motives to himself, he understands this is an odd topic to discuss. What superhuman wants to get rid of their powers? It’s unheard of, likely enough to warrant his parents insisting he see a therapist if they knew.

That would be completely unnecessary, of course. Taehyung simply wants to live a normal life. Nothing has been normal since he met Yoongi. If his feelings for Yoongi won’t disappear, he needs his powers to.

Because there’s no way Yoongi is going to love him back.

With a long sigh, Seokjin turns his back to Taehyung and resumes his work.

“Control is an important part of ability development. I wouldn’t suggest turning off an ability, nor am I sure if that’s even possible, but exercising control should eventually come easily to you as you master your skills.”

Seokjin’s words make sense but aren’t what Taehyung wants to hear. He wants an easy way out, something quick and effortless. He’s tired of dealing with exploding plants and the pathetic feeling of being a disappointment. Not to mention that his status in school will be jeopardized if he keeps losing his grip on his powers.

“Right,” Taehyung mumbles in acknowledgment of Seokjin’s explanation. He picks at some dried mud on his apron and watches the dirt crumble and fall to the ground.

“Everything okay?” Seokjin eyes Taehyung but doesn’t stop working.

“Of course!” Taehyung tries not to react to how high-pitched his voice comes out. He gives Seokjin a slight smile that’s only half believable. “I was just curious since I’ve heard stories about people wishing they weren’t born like… this.” Taehyung gestures to the space between them.

“Ah, yes, well,” Seokjin twists to the side to look at Taehyung, leaning with his hip against his workbench. “No point in wallowing in that when there isn’t anything we can do about it. I prefer to look at the bright side of things.”

“Like?” It isn’t that Taehyung doesn’t believe him, but he’s always been curious about Seokjin. He’s never been brave enough to question why the man is a greenhouse keeper, of all things.

Seokjin quirks an eyebrow at him. His hands are covered in dirt past his wrists, and he smells like grass after a cool spring rain. It’s comforting.

“Have you ever asked your plants how having someone who cares for and understands them feels? How important it is to have that in a world where so few people know how to speak to them?”

No, Taehyung hasn’t. The thought has never occurred to him. It must be apparent because Seokjin points his hand shovel at Taehyung as if to say, “See?”

“Ask them, and then tell me having this power is a curse.”

With that, Seokjin wipes his hands on his apron and gathers his supplies. He gives Taehyung a slight bow of his head before disappearing between the aisles of plants, likely toward his office in the back of the building.

Taehyung lets out a long sigh and leans against the table behind him. He knows what it feels like to be cared for and understood; it’s how Yoongi makes him feel. Taehyung is merely surprised that Seokjin focused on their powers' social and emotional aspects rather than the more action-oriented parts.

What about the dangers? Or the qualities that make them suitable (or bad) superheroes? Seokjin seemed not to care.

Still confused, Taehyung tends to his plants and tries to keep his mind empty.

🌼

The celebration with Yoongi never happens. 

That night, Yoongi came home later than expected, something to do with a combat training session gone wrong that required all the infirmary staff. He looked dead on his feet with dark bags under his eyes and sunken cheeks. Taehyung had shoved the container of leftover noodles into Yoongi’s hands and hurried off to his bedroom, afraid that Yoongi might ask to eat or watch TV together. The conversation with Seokjin had left him on edge despite how confident Seokjin seemed that Taehyung would figure everything out with time. 

Then Sunday came around, and Yoongi spent the day with Hoseok because Sundays are Hoseok days. Such days typically consist of Yoongi listening to Hoseok talk about his weekend sexcapades. Awkwardly, they’ve all been about Jimin lately, though Yoongi seemed supportive, which surprised Taehyung. He assumed Yoongi would advise against involvement with Jimin since Hoseok and Jimin are friends. Instead, Yoongi curled up with a blanket on the couch and told Hoseok that he and Jimin looked cute together. 

Taehyung didn’t know what to do with that information but didn’t participate in the conversation anyway. Sundays are for studying. 

Monday was their last day off before classes resumed. It would have been the perfect day to spend time with Yoongi, but Taehyung found himself knocking on Namjoon and Jungkook’s dorm early enough that Namjoon was still in his pajamas. All it took was one puppy-eyed look from Taehyung, and his friend let him in with an endeared shake of his head. 

Needless to say, the long weekend was unsuccessful. 

Taehyung is equally relieved and disappointed, though he expresses neither to Yoongi – or anyone else for that matter. As much as he wants to spend time with Yoongi, Taehyung doesn’t want anything weird to happen. If Seokjin is correct, Taehyung needs more time to develop his powers before reasonably hanging out with Yoongi. 

Besides, it isn’t just his relationship with Yoongi that’s on the line. Taehyung is growing increasingly nervous about his class ranking. If he doesn’t graduate at the top of his class… everything he has done leading up to now will have been for naught! 

Jungkook disagrees, but what does Jungkook know? 

(Quite literally everything, but Taehyung thinks that is neither here nor there.)

The thing is, Taehyung’s difficulty controlling his powers isn’t always scary and dangerous. Usually, it’s simply embarrassing. 

It’s been a week since The Vines, as Taehyung has come to call the incident. Not aloud, no way. He hasn’t spoken about it with anyone other than Yoongi, and even Yoongi seems to know not to bring it up since the apartment maintenance workers removed the vines from the plumbing. 

A week since The Vines, Taehyung has successfully avoided using his powers. It’s easier than anticipated – for the most part. It’s impossible not to listen to the chitchat of the plants around him or feel their presence, but Taehyung at least stops himself from engaging with them. No communicating, no helping them grow, nothing of the sort. He lets Mother Nature handle it all as it is meant to be. On top of that, he doesn’t have any combat-based classes right now, so his ability to weaponize the toxins in his body is easily avoidable, too. 

All in all, Taehyung is rather pleased with himself. Pleased as a peach on a warm summer day. 

He turns his face toward the sun and photosynthesizes, as his friends say, to appreciate the rays on his honey skin. The low clouds and cool autumn breeze mute the warmth, but it’s better than being cooped up inside. Taehyung is often found in the park that borders the grounds of his apartment complex. It isn’t huge, just a swath of grass, a children’s playground in one corner, and a smattering of trees to provide shade. 

Taehyung likes to sit out in the middle of the field when there aren’t children playing soccer who might accidentally step on him. Sometimes, he brings a blanket to sprawl on, though today, he lies directly on the yellowing grass. He looks like he’s sprouted from the ground from the way his yellow hair blends in with the grass, along with his yellow long-sleeve t-shirt and brown pants. Something sharp pokes at his shoulder blades, likely a twig, but he’s too content to move. 

The smell of freshly mowed grass and the tang of damp dirt will cling to his hair and clothes, just as Taehyung likes it. He can let the sun bake away his worries when he lies out here until they’ve evaporated into the afternoon air. He likes to imagine his stress leaving his body and getting swept away in the wind like dandelion fuzz. 

Sometimes, Taehyung wishes he could become a flower. He isn’t sure what type he’d be. Perhaps a tiger lily. Yoongi once pointed out that tiger lilies have little freckles scattered on their petals, just like Taehyung has them scattered on his face. 

Yeah, he thinks he’d like to be a tiger lily.

He ponders what it would be like to be a tiger lily (Who would water him? Would he be wild? Picked to be made into a bouquet?) until the sun is suddenly obstructed by a person looming over him. 

“I knew I’d find you here,” Yoongi says triumphantly as if he’s just proven someone wrong or won on a bet. 

“Oh!” 

Flustered by the image of Yoongi hovering over him, Taehyung immediately sits up. The abrupt action makes his forehead collide with Yoongi’s. The two men groan, hands flying up to cover their faces.

“Fuck, Tae, you could’ve just told me you didn’t want me to hang out with you. No need to try to kill me.” Yoongi sits back on his heels and massages his forehead. His backpack rests beside Taehyung’s in the grass beside them. 

“I’m sorry, hyung. I wasn’t… paying attention.” 

“Clearly,” Yoongi snorts. “Here.” 

Yoongi reaches out to slide his fingers under Taehyung’s bangs, brushing them out of the way to make contact with his irritated skin. Before a bump can form, Yoongi massages Taehyung’s forehead. His healing powers seep deep into his skin; Taehyung would swear he could feel it even in his bones. It’s a liquid heat like lava trickling down his spine and pooling in his gut. 

Or maybe that’s just how it feels to have Yoongi touch him; Taehyung isn’t sure. 

Taehyung’s eyes flutter close, and his lips part. A quiet sigh escapes his mouth, and he doesn’t even feel ashamed to enjoy the pleasure of having Yoongi so close. Eucalyptus and peppermint wrap Taehyung in a hug warmer than the sun’s rays. He’s sure that there is nothing more calming than being in Yoongi’s presence. It’s where Taehyung feels safest, he realizes as Yoongi’s breath fans across his cheeks. As heroes, they’re taught to be cautious and skeptical of everything, but Taehyung would trust Yoongi with his life. 

That fact will be Taehyung’s downfall one day, he’s sure, but he doesn’t care. He leans into Yoongi’s touch as he runs his finger down the bridge of Taehyung’s nose. 

“Cute,” Yoongi murmurs. The comment is so quiet that Taehyung almost doesn’t hear it. 

“What?” 

“This.” Taehyung feels Yoongi tap the tip of his nose, right where his freckle is.  

“T-thank you,” Taehyung stutters and wills himself to open his eyes despite the heat he feels on his cheeks. 

Yoongi is so, so close. His knees press against Taehyung’s thigh, and he has one hand in the grass, the other still hovering over Taehyung’s face. He looks ethereal, an angel sent to torment Taehyung’s mortal soul. The sunlight shines through gold flecks in his brown irises. The bright smile he gives Taehyung is enough to make his stomach feel queasy over how much he yearns. 

What he would give to pull Yoongi into his arms, roll him over until his pretty hair is fanned out in the grass, the sun warm and golden on his pale skin. Taehyung would kiss him right now if he could. He can barely stop himself from staring down at Yoongi’s lips, so pink and with a cute little cupid’s bow. Yoongi’s tongue darts out to lick his lips, and Taehyung follows the movement like he’s never seen anything more beautiful. 

Yoongi startles suddenly, eyes flitting over to look at his raised hand as if he’d only just realized it’s still suspended in the air. He brings it to his lap to accompany his other hand, no longer caressing the yellowing blades of grass. 

“You’ve been gone a lot again.” It’s a statement, but Taehyung hears the question behind it. Why? 

Taehyung doesn’t have an answer he can give, not out loud. Not one he’d be okay with Yoongi knowing. Sometimes, it’s in moments like this that Taehyung considers confessing. It will eat him alive if he doesn’t, right? Would confessing and being rejected be better than dying inside every single day he has to look at Yoongi and can’t express the love he wants? A part of him knows Yoongi might reject him, but he would never give up on him. They could still be friends; their relationship wouldn’t be ruined. Yoongi is too nice for that. 

But could Taehyung still be friends after his love is rejected? That’s too hard to tell. It seems he’s fucked no matter which path he chooses. 

“I’m sorry,” is what he says instead of confessing. It feels like he’s always apologizing these days. 

Yoongi reaches up to pick at Taehyung’s hair, eventually wrestling a twig from his curls. Yoongi keeps the twig in his hands, snapping it in half, then quarters, and so on, until it’s reduced to a tiny pile. He’s silent, and Taehyung can’t see his face because his bangs fall forward when he looks toward the ground. 

Taehyung watches Yoongi with his own hands occupied, though he’s focused on twisting the hem of his yellow shirt. Is it bad that Yoongi hasn’t responded? Taehyung can’t imagine what Yoongi’s thinking, and he’s never envied Hoseok before today. 

“It’s alright,” Yoongi finally speaks up. He lifts his eyes to look at Taehyung, bangs still forward enough that the ends reach his eyelashes. “I just, um,” Yoongi clears his throat and averts his eyes, returning his gaze to the little twig pile. “I miss… spending time with you. I miss you. And I was wondering if–”

Despite his best efforts to hold it in, Taehyung erupts into a fit of coughing. A thick, itchy feeling crept up his chest while Yoongi was talking, but Taehyung managed to swallow down the tickling sensation in his throat. That is until Yoongi – as usual – caught Taehyung off guard. 

“Can you pass me my water bottle?” Taehyung croaks out once his breathing becomes a bit more regulated. He holds his hand out, fingers with dirt under the nails wiggling in the air as Yoongi reaches for his backpack. The tickling in his throat was uncomfortable but likely nothing some water can’t wash down. 

Unfortunately, Taehyung doesn’t get the chance to find out. 

A surge of energy zips up the length of Taehyung’s spine. He can practically feel it leaving him feeling electric when it shoots through him. He gasps, clenching at his chest as he pants through the thickness in his chest. 

“Fuck,” Taehyung wheezes and the curse word sounds funny coming from such a usually proper mouth. Shaking his head to rid himself of that strange sensation, Taehyung turns toward Yoongi to apologize again for his behavior and hear what Yoongi has to say. 

“Hyung? What?” 

“Taehyung-ah, are you…?” Yoongi’s eyes are wide as he gestures around them. 

The entire park seems to have fallen silent, though Taehyung feels like it’s even louder than it was when he first arrived. Except this time, none of the sounds are coming from the people surrounding them. In fact, it seems as though every person in the park is staring at Taehyung, even the children who have stopped playing on the playground. They all stare at him with confusion and curiosity swirling in their eyes like Yoongi’s. 

“Wha–” 

“Tae, will you please tell me what’s going on?” 

Taehyung’s eyes lock with Yoongi’s. He’s so focused on the look of concern on his face that he overlooks the sea of yellow manifesting around him. 

Yoongi reaches out to touch Taehyung, his index and middle fingers resting on Taehyung’s pulse in his wrist. “Why are you making the flowers grow?” Yoongi whispers. 

Thousands of dandelions poke through the grass across the entirety of the park, even past the trees along the border and bleeding into the yards of other buildings nearby. Some are puffy fluff balls that begin breaking into little fuzzies when the wind blows through the park. The rest of them are yellow and stand tall among the short grass. They chatter to Taehyung, but he doesn’t understand what they’re saying; there are too many. He can’t even reach them with his mind. He’s completely overwhelmed, like someone flipped on the switch to every one of his nerves. His nerves are lit up like a Christmas tree inside of his body. 

Following the strange path a few of the dandelions make, Taehyung notices that they form a perfect circle around Yoongi, outlining him in alternating yellow and white fuzz patterns. It’s the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to Taehyung in his entire life. 

“Oh my god!” Taehyung screeches, pulling out of Yoongi’s reach like his fingers were hot irons. Taehyung hops on his feet and snatches his backpack, flinging his arms through the straps as fast as possible. One of the pockets is unzipped, but he doesn’t bother doing anything about it. “Hyung, I’ve gotta go.” 

Yoongi startles, raising his knees like he’s also about to gather his belongings. “Go where?”

“Sorry, hyung!” Taehyung calls over his shoulder. “I’ll text you!” 

“Taehyung-ah!”  

Yoongi shouts after him, but Taehyung is quite literally sprinting at this point. Today was the wrong day to wear his brown loafers with the backs smashed in from Taehyung, not bothering to fix the heel, preferring to slip into his shoes than put them on all the way. His steps are loud, and his heavy bag smacks against his lower back as he runs down the now-overgrown sidewalk to the park entrance. 

Barely taking the time to look both ways, Taehyung sprints across the street. His feet take him in the direction of the greenhouse without him putting any thought into the decision. Taehyung can’t get his head together long enough to consider whether spending more time with plants will benefit him. 

He just needs to get away. 

🌼

“You alright, Taehyung?” 

Taehyung nods and raises his hand in Namjoon’s direction, holding out his palm to indicate that Namjoon should stop worrying. Namjoon’s concern is understandable, though. Taehyung is doubled over and coughing into the crook of his arm. The coughing fit lasts a few minutes, and each cough is violent enough that it shudders through Taehyung’s body. He keeps his eyes closed until it eventually subsides, thickly swallowing down a now raw feeling throat. 

“Shit, hyung, are you sure you aren’t sick?” Jungkook rubs a hand between Taehyung’s shoulder blades a little too enthusiastically. It makes Taehyung trip forward slightly, but Jungkook wraps an arm around his torso to keep him upright. 

“Yes, I’m sure I’m not sick,” Taehyung rushes to dismiss Jungkook’s question. It’s ridiculous, honestly. Taehyung is fine. “It’s just a little cough. Nothing to worry about.” 

“Little?” Jungkook snorts, finally letting go of Taehyung. He leans against the brick wall of the university dining hall and crosses his arms against his chest. He tries to look menacing, but he’s wearing giant, circular, wire-framed glasses. Taehyung could laugh. 

“Yes, little. That time was just a kinda rough because I had food in my mouth.” 

Taehyung takes a sip of water from his water bottle and avoids looking at his friends. The cold water feels rejuvenating, like it’s seeping through his veins, cooling him down from the inside out. Sometimes, it feels like Taehyung has something growing inside of his chest, twisting around his organs and expanding inside of him. It’s rather unsettling, but it must get much worse before Taehyung willingly tells Namjoon and Jungkook what’s happening. 

Jungkook is difficult to fool; he’s too smart for his own good. He watches Taehyung try to hold in another cough, cheeks puffing up while his lips stay glued shut. 

“Maybe you caught whatever I had?” Namjoon offers, though he doesn’t sound sure of himself. Honestly, it sounds like he’s suggesting something he doesn’t believe in at all but is perhaps throwing it out there for Taehyung to take the bait and confess. 

As if. 

Jungkook makes a noise of dissent. “No way. You were sick so long ago. You’re not contagious anymore, and Taehyung would have gotten sick much sooner.” 

With a sigh, Namjoon pushes off the wall and leads the three of them toward the campus quad. It’s getting cold outside, so very few students hang out on the grassy field between the academic buildings. 

“I don’t know,” Namjoon mutters as he kicks at a loose pebble. “Superviruses are weird.”  

The three friends were supposed to head to the library to study after lunch. They still can if they’d just let the topic go. Yes, his coughing has become more frequent since that dreadful day at the park, but it’s only a cough. Everything else about him is fine. 

Well, aside from the fact that his heart is broken because he’s going back to avoiding Yoongi again, spending all his time with Jungkook and Namjoon, and only being in his apartment whenever he absolutely has to. Yeah, aside from the pain of pretending he’s okay with ignoring the love of his life, Taehyung is doing great. 

“Taehyung,” Namjoon begins sternly. “You need to go to the infirmary. Today.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“You look like shit, hyung. I’m being so serious right now. You’re pale, and all the coughing sounds kind of disgusting.” 

Taehyung glares at Jungkook because he’s rude, but he’s right. 

“It’s been over a week, Taehyung-ah, and it’s getting worse.” Namjoon runs his hands through his hair. He only does that when stressed, and Taehyung feels awful for knowing it’s his fault. “Go on, let’s go.” 

Namjoon firmly grabs Taehyung's shoulders and steers him toward the infirmary. The building is close to the dining hall, just a five-minute walk from where they are in the quad. In all honesty, Taehyung would have lied and gone somewhere else, perhaps to his apartment or the greenhouse, the moment Jungkook and Namjoon left him alone. So it’s a shame when the two accompany Taehyung to the infirmary lobby. 

“All they’re going to do is tell me to drink more water and suck on cough drops or something,” Taehyung groans when Jungkook gives him a final shove toward the front desk. “I don’t want to be in here with all these… actually sick people,” he whispers the end of the sentence when a woman sitting in the lobby gives the three men a dirty look. 

“Can you please just do this for us? For our peace of mind?” Namjoon never pleads, but he does now, his eyes bright and earnest. 

Defeated, Taehyung nods. He tries not to look too dramatic as Namjoon and Jungkook bid him good luck and farewell. The two men bow a few too many times at the other patients waiting for their turn to see a doctor as an apology for being loud. They’re a bunch of goofballs, and Taehyung can’t help but smile slightly as he watches them disappear through the front doors. It’s nice to have friends who care about him, even if they’re annoying as fuck. 

“Hi dear, can you do me a favor and wait in one of these seats?” The woman at the front desk motions for Taehyung to sit down. She has the office phone pressed against her shoulder. “I’ve got someone on the phone. I can check you in once I’m done.” 

With a slight bow of his head, Taehyung slumps into a seat in the corner of the room, away from the other patients. He knows whatever’s wrong with him is a minor thing, maybe the tiniest of colds, and he’s not interested in getting sick with whatever other illnesses are spreading through the university now that the cool weather has hit. Taehyung is always in good health and prides himself in it, actually. Which is likely why his friends are so concerned. 

Adjusting his jean jacket tighter around his torso, Taehyung does his best to get comfortable in his chair. The itchy feeling in his chest and throat is slowly returning, only somewhat bothersome now, but Taehyung knows it can get much worse. He tries holding his breath to stop himself from feeling the need to cough, too embarrassed to let it out in front of all these people. He’s not sick! It’s just a weird little thing he’s sure he’ll get over soon enough. Maybe he has fall allergies? It wouldn’t make much sense since Taehyung is immune to plant toxins; he’d assume pollen and the like should also be useless against him, but hey, who the fuck knows? 

Perhaps Seokjin. Taehyung makes a mental note to ask him about it later. 

With a sigh, he falls back against the chair and shifts his gaze to look through the window in the door leading to the rest of the infirmary, where patients are examined. Occasionally, a nurse will pop through the door to call on a patient to enter the infirmary for their initial check-up. 

At this rate, Taehyung feels like his name will never be called. 

It’s been less than ten minutes, but Taehyung is already becoming impatient. He sits with his chin in his hand and stares at the front desk woman whenever she isn’t looking at him. Whoever is on the other end of the line is causing her stress; Taehyung can tell. Still, he’s seconds away from leaving and maybe returning later. 

“Kim Hyungseo?”

A girl to the left of Taehyung gets up and turns to gather her bag and giant fluffy coat from the chair next to her. She’s making a bit of a fuss, sniffling like her nose might fall off, but Taehyung is focused on the nurse who called her name. 

Yoongi is cute in scrubs. His are a soft lilac in color and fit his body proportions nicely, not baggy or flimsy. The short sleeves are tight around his biceps, making his arms look full and strong. Clipped to the waistband of his pants is his employee ID. Taehyung can’t see it from here, but he knows that in the photo, Yoongi has his natural dark hair and isn’t smiling, which gives him a somewhat intimidating appearance. 

Taehyung sinks further down in his seat and drops his gaze, keeping his eyes on the floor to watch the girl walk away from their corner of the room. He sincerely hopes Yoongi hasn’t seen him, though it’s impossible to know. Taehyung thinks he doesn’t because Yoongi is busy reviewing files on a clipboard as he waits for the next patient. 

By the time Yoongi looks up again, Taehyung is already halfway down the hallway. 

🌼

Taehyung looks down at the yellow flower petals scattered across his wooden tabletop. They’re damp with phlegm and speckled with dirt that alarms Taehyung, though not as much as the petals' existence. Black-eyed Susans are annual flowers native to North America that appear during the late summer and early autumn. They’re one of Taehyung’s favorite flowers. He enjoys how simple they are. Daisy-like in appearance, Black-eyed Susans typically have upright green stems with thin, pointy yellow petals circling a black or brown center. However, Taehyung appreciates the variations they can come in. They grow well in the greenhouse’s warm environment, and Taehyung has a small pot on one of the shelving units near the back of the greenhouse.

Although Taehyung doesn’t dabble in flower symbolism like some plant lovers do (mostly because he can speak to plants and get to know their personalities rather than rely on almanacs to tell him made-up theories), he will admit that he likes the symbolism of Black-eyed Susans. Humans have attributed the flowers to feelings of motivation, resilience, and encouragement. They’re optimistic flowers by nature, so Taehyung is inclined to believe in the symbolism.

The appearance of Black-eyed Susans on this rainy Sunday afternoon isn’t a good omen, however.

Rain patters against the greenhouse, making the glass roof and walls fog from the difference in temperatures between the inside of the greenhouse and the gloomy weather outside. It may come as a surprise to some, but Taehyung loves the rain. Not only is the sound of rain hitting the roof comforting, but it’s the driving force of all nature. Without rain, life wouldn’t exist. Therefore, he is thankful for its calming and life-giving qualities.

Today, however, the rain depresses Taehyung. Perhaps because he’s dying. Maybe. Probably.

Looking down at his phone, Taehyung lets out a small sound of frustration. Jungkook is a supergenius; why is he giving Taehyung information about a made-up disease? Jungkook needs to stop reading so much BL manhwa. Taehyung is experiencing a genuine medical emergency!

The sound of the heavy wooden backdoor creaking open startles Taehyung into action. Seokjin is weaving through the aisles of floor-level flowerbeds, large pots, and shelving units. In a panic, Taehyung starts scooping the damp petals into the pockets of his mud-smeared apron. He attempts to hide whatever is left within the clumps of dirt on the workbench.

“Taehyung-ah,” Seokjin greets him with a smile. “Why is it that you’re always so stressed these days?”

“I’m not stressed,” Taehyung lies through his teeth, knowing that the pheromones he’s giving off will betray his true feelings to Seokjin and the greenhouse plants. It’s so unfair that he has no control over the aura he puts off.

With a playful roll of his eyes, Seokjin hauls a basket of strawberries onto the workbench beside the pot of orange and white lilies Taehyung has been prepping. He thought the apartment would look nice with fresh flowers, which is the humane way of having a bouquet without killing the plants. Taehyung doesn’t understand the point of a bouquet. Why wouldn’t someone want to plant the flowers and care for them long-term?

“So,” Seokjin tries again. “Are you still not feeling well?”

Taehyung watches him use the sink at the end of the workbench to wash the dirty strawberries and put them into clean jars. “I feel fine.”

Seokjin cocks his eyebrow when Taehyung quickly buries his face into the crook of his elbow and coughs rather violently. “Fine?”

“Mhm,” Taehyung mumbles weakly and silently prays that there won’t be petals left behind when he lifts his head.

Of course, the universe is out to get him.

He quickly turns his body away from Seokjin to brush off the sleeve of his sweater. When the petals fall to the ground, Taehyung kicks them under the table. Seokjin gives him a small smile once Taehyung turns back around.

“Would you like to talk about why you’re coughing so much? Or do I need to let you figure it out on your own?” he asks quietly, dark eyes roaming Taehyung’s confused expression.

“It’s just a cold. I’ll go to the infirmary on Monday,” Taehyung promises as he brushes dirt off the pot. If Seokjin is implying that he knows why Taehyung is coughing, he’s unfortunately confused. There’s no way for Seokjin to know the truth. Jungkook doesn’t even know. “I’ll see you tomorrow, hyung. I need to go before the rain gets worse.”

Taehyung doesn’t wait for Seokjin’s reply. He quickly bows his head a few times, a slight bob that flops his wavy golden bangs on his forehead, and then dashes out of the greenhouse with his plant cradled in his arms.

The rain is unforgiving as he hurries to his apartment, plastering his hair to his face and making his clothes hang heavily on his lanky limbs by the time he enters the apartment lobby. He did his best to protect the lilies by shielding them with his body, even if that meant the uncomfortable bend in his back caused him to cough up more flower petals at least three times before he finally made it home.

Taehyung doesn’t consider himself an angry person. If anything, he tries to maintain a relatively neutral emotional state. Today, though… Today, he’s ready to chuck his phone at his bedroom wall because Jungkook is being the exact opposite of helpful right now. At least Yoongi isn’t home to hear Taehyung hacking up flower petals and phlegm and screaming into his pillow because not only is he potentially dying, but now his room is a disaster from how disgusting this supposed disease is, and he has an essay due at midnight!

It’s going to take forever to vacuum up all these nasty petals. Taehyung is pretty sure the last cough had a little blood in it, but he forces himself not to think about that. He’s so bent out of shape that even Jisung the Jade Plant and Bobby the Boatlily are silent as Taehyung paces the room.

What is he going to do? In all seriousness, this truly is an emergency. If Taehyung had thought he was broken before, he certainly is now. Perhaps he should have asked Seokjin to explain himself; he’s the only person Taehyung knows who would understand. In all of Taehyung’s extensive research of people with powers like his – or at least something similar – he has never encountered a situation like this.

The shooting sensation that comes right before Taehyung accidentally blows something up slices down his spine. Doubling over from the sharp pain, Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut and grasps at his chest, willing the energy coursing through his nervous system to subside.

Sweat beads along his hairline and dampens his bangs as he focuses on the tightness in his chest. It’s disgusting, the sensation of something twisting inside him, like vines squeezing his lungs.

But it works.

Taehyung collapses onto the floor and immediately coughs up more flower petals. The force of the coughs makes his back arch like a cat. It’s painful now, but he gets the result he wanted. None of his plants explode.

His hands are shaking too much to send another text to Jungkook, so Taehyung calls him instead. He sits on the edge of his bed, gently rocking back and forth to calm himself as the phone rings - lasting only three chimes before Jungkook picks up because Taehyung is sure he’s been waiting. Once Jungkook answers, Taehyung puts him on speaker and sets the phone next to him on part of the bed not covered in flower petals.

“Why aren’t you using your powers?” Jungkook immediately dives into the interrogation that Taehyung was anticipating. It’s still annoying, even if Taehyung knew it was coming.

With a huff, Taehyung presses his palms against his eyes and tries not to cry.

“They’re getting out of control, okay? For months, I haven’t been able to control them! So now I’m just not going to use them, and everything is fine!” Deep down, the rational part of Taehyung knows his reasoning doesn’t make sense, but that part of him is overruled by the part that’s stressed out.

Jungkook’s voice is softer when he asks, “Why can’t you control them, hyung?”

Dropping his hands into his lap, Taehyung stares at the wall across from him where his desk sits. There’s a little picture frame on the corner of his desk. The frame is shaped like a sunflower, with a circular photo in the middle, surrounded by big yellow petals. The photo is of Taehyung and Yoongi on the day that they met. It was at a Pride event that Hoseok’s LGBTQ+ student organization hosted. Taehyung and Yoongi are beaming at the camera with their fingers raised in peace signs pressed against their cheeks. Yoongi is wearing a giant, fuzzy rainbow boa across his shoulders, and Taehyung is in an embarrassing, too-small ladybug dress Jungkook had forced him to wear.

“Taehyung, right? You look cute,” Yoongi laughed as he leaned into Taehyung’s side, off-centered from being a bit drunk. “We should take a picture.”

With a sigh and fresh tears trickling down his cheeks, Taehyung looks down at the phone as if he can see Jungkook sitting there patiently waiting for him to crack finally.

“It’s Yoongi hyung,” Taehyung confesses. “Every time I’m around him, or even if I think about him, I make my plants explode. It hurts them, Jungkook.”

“And it hurts you, too,” Jungkook points out. It makes Taehyung’s heart ache.

“I don’t understand…”

The two men are momentarily silent, letting Taehyung’s situation sink in. Taehyung hears Jungkook sigh through the phone and then some rustling.

“Do you love him?”

The question makes the creepy crawlies in Taehyung’s chest wiggle. He grits his teeth when he responds, “Yeah. But… please don’t tell him. He won’t want to be my friend anymore.”

“What?!” Jungkook’s voice screeches through the phone. The loudness startles Taehyung, and he nearly knocks his phone onto the floor. “Hyung, are you kidding me? Yoongi hyung adores you, what the fuck?”

“Stop yelling at me. I don’t feel good,” Taehyung whines.

“Right. Sorry.” Jungkook pauses. “This is literally just like Hanahaki Disease.”

“Can you quit it with that!” The audacity.

“I’m so serious.” Taehyung can imagine Jungkook rolling his eyes at him. “You’re getting so emotional about liking Yoongi that you’re keeping your powers inside of you. You aren’t letting your feelings out, and your powers don’t have anywhere to go. You literally made flowers grow inside of you, hyung, because you won’t just let yourself be free to express yourself.”

The realization that by suppressing his powers, Taehyung is making his body malfunction is so blatantly obvious when Jungkook explains it that Taehyung feels stupid. He presses his hand to his chest and tries to channel his energy into feeling beyond the tightness– to what’s inside.

Flowers. Beautiful flowers sing to Taehyung, a song so full of sorrow that it makes him crack even more.

“I trapped them,” Taehyung mutters, his voice quiet and far off.

“Yes, you did.”

“Well…” Taehyung messes with the hem of his shirt, realizing a few petals are sticking to it. He really shouldn't be sitting on his bed right now; his clothes are still wet. In this current mindset, though, Taehyung isn't sure if he can care about much else aside from the situation at hand. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Jungkook gives Taehyung the answer he doesn’t want: “Tell him.”

🌼

Taehyung can’t do this. He can’t. Jungkook has too much faith in him. It’s not even pessimism making Taehyung doubt himself; he’s coming to this conclusion based on pure evidence.

Exhibit A: Yoongi is home, and Taehyung is hiding in his bedroom.

Exhibit B: Yoongi knocked on Taehyung’s door, knowing Taehyung was home because Hoseok heard Taehyung stressing out inside his head when he walked Yoongi to the apartment, and Taehyung pretended he was asleep.

Exhibit C: Yoongi texted Taehyung, asking if he was okay, and Taehyung turned off his phone.

The problem with roommates is that they live with you. The problem with life is that it doesn’t stop even when you want to hide away in your corner of the world and pray for it to slow down.

For nearly twenty minutes, Taehyung tries to hold in a cough. He knows Yoongi is sitting in the living room because he can hear the record player going. It’s one of Yoongi’s favorite albums: All Eyez on Me. Taehyung isn’t sure what that means for the mood Yoongi is in right now, but he can’t think about it too much because he focuses on keeping himself under control. When the cough finally bursts through Taehyung’s tight-lipped grimace, he hopes Yoongi can’t hear it over 2Pac’s "Shorty Wanna Be a Thug."

“Taehyung-ah?” Yoongi calls out, and Taehyung curses under his breath. The music stops, and the floor creaks as Yoongi nears Taehyung’s bedroom. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine!” Taehyung croaks.

“You don’t sound fine…” Yoongi drums his knuckles against the door. “Can I come in? I can help you.”

Of course, Yoongi can help Taehyung; he has the power of healing. Not only that, but Jungkook is convinced that if Taehyung admits his feelings, he’ll be cured. All Taehyung has to do is ask Yoongi to come in…

“Uhhh…” Heart pounding and hands shaking, Taehyung quickly brushes petals off his bed and tries to toss as many as possible into an empty flower pot sitting on the floor by his desk. It’s impossible to hide them all; there are too many.

“Tae?” The door creaks, and Taehyung imagines Yoongi is leaning his shoulder against it as he waits.

“Um, uh,” Taehyung takes a deep breath. “You can come in.”

The moment Yoongi enters Taehyung’s bedroom, his face falls. The dusting of pink on his cheeks drains, making his face look ashen and solemn. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth and nibbles on it as his eyes scan Taehyung’s bedroom, taking in the flower petals. When those troubled eyes finally land on Taehyung’s face, Yoongi’s face crumbles.

“Oh, Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi calls out softly. “What happened?”

It’s instinctual the way Taehyung falls into Yoongi’s outstretched arms. He lets Yoongi hold him close, even allowing himself to nuzzle his face into the crook of Yoongi’s neck without shame. Eucalyptus and peppermint evade his senses, automatically calming him. His tears cease to fall, and his hands no longer shake because he bunches the hem of Yoongi’s oversized t-shirt into his fists.

“I have flowers inside me,” Taehyung whispers into Yoongi’s shoulder. His body hurts from coughing, and he leans most of his weight onto Yoongi. Yoongi can handle it, though. He’s strong, as always, keeping Taehyung upright. His large hands caress Taehyung’s back, gently rubbing along his spine as Taehyung takes deep breaths.

“You’re sick?” Yoongi asks. Taehyung can’t expect him to understand, but he can’t find the energy to explain what’s happening. There’s only one thing that will make this better.

“Mhm,” Taehyung hums an affirmation. He feels warm and gooey, a chocolate chip cookie straight from the oven, broken apart by Yoongi’s strong hands. “You’re healing me.” It isn’t a question.

Yoongi’s hands on Taehyung’s back pause. “I’m sorry. I should have asked permission.”

“It feels good. I hurt all over, hyung. It hurts.”

Nodding his head, Yoongi resumes rubbing Taehyung’s back. They stay like that for a long time, content to be in each other’s arms while Yoongi patiently waits for Taehyung to explain the situation further.

“Hyung…” Taehyung slowly pulls back, far enough to look at Yoongi’s face. There’s that adoration again, a look so gentle and kind that Taehyung feels the tightness in his chest break apart. The longer Yoongi holds him, the easier it becomes to breathe. “I…”

Yoongi nods his head in encouragement.

“I think – no, no, I know I love you,” Taehyung chokes out.

It’s a shame he doesn’t know what Yoongi’s reaction is. The moment the confession leaves his lips, Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut as his whole body shudders. He bends over and coughs what he somehow knows is the remaining bout of petals deep inside his lungs. They’re frail and lackluster in color.

Falling to his knees, Taehyung gasps for air as the strange feeling in his chest slowly disappears, like vines receding into the dirt. His eyes fly open when strong arms come around his waist and hoist him up. When Yoongi settles him into his lap, Taehyung turns toward his body to rest his head on Yoongi’s shoulder.

“That was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen,” Yoongi muses. When Taehyung attempts a weak laugh, Yoongi pulls him tighter against his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me you felt this way?”

“You said dating friends is bad,” Taehyung reminds him. He stares down at his lap and wishes he wasn’t so upset that he can’t appreciate that he’s sitting in Yoongi’s lap.

“When did I say that?” Yoongi leans back slightly to look Taehyung in the eyes.

“That one time we played Hobi hyung’s questions game.”

Yoongi huffs at that, but Taehyung doesn’t know what it means. “That was ages ago, Taehyung. Besides… I, um…” Yoongi clears his throat. Taehyung realizes the color has returned to his cheeks. “It was my way of telling Hobah not to tease me.”

Taehyung furrows his eyebrows. “Tease you about what?”

Yoongi’s eyes drop to Taehyung’s lips. He suddenly feels self-conscious about having his crush look at him so closely, even though Yoongi has seen every side of Taehyung – the good, the bad, and the ugly. Especially the ugly. It comes with the territory of living with someone, Taehyung supposes. It’s hard to hide the undesirable parts of yourself from your roommate.

“I didn’t want him to tease me about how much I like you,” Yoongi whispers. “Love you, actually. I love you, too.”

“Oh…” Taehyung blinks and is very aware of how close his face is to Yoongi’s. It doesn’t help that Yoongi’s eyes keep flitting between locking with Taehyung’s and looking at his lips. “Oh.”

“Ahh, yeah,” Yoongi admits sheepishly. He ruffles the back of his hair and gives Taehyung a small smile. “I’ve been trying to tell you for a while but kept getting too nervous. I, mean, I’m still kind of nerv–”

Taehyung should ask to kiss Yoongi, but he doesn’t. He dives in before he can talk himself out of it. He’s glad he does, of course. Kissing Yoongi frees the last bit of discomfort that had seeped into Taehyung’s bones. The comfort of his pillowy lips on Taehyung’s calms the anxious knot inside his chest. His stress unfurls as Yoongi begins kissing him back, his hands sliding up Taehyung’s back to hold him close as he applies more pressure to their kiss.

Their lips move together in a slow dance like autumn leaves swirling around each other when kicked up in the wind. When they finally pull away, the tip of Taehyung’s tongue brushes against Yoongi’s bottom lip, and Taehyung thinks he tastes the way lilacs smell.

“I think I’m better now,” Taehyung blurts. The laugh that erupts from Yoongi’s chest endears Taehyung and makes him want to hide under his blankets in embarrassment for saying something stupid.

“Good,” Yoongi says with a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “Though I’m very disappointed in you.” Taehyung hides in the crook of Yoongi’s neck because he knows what’s coming next. “I explicitly asked you to tell me when something’s wrong, and you lied to me.”

“I did not lie!” Taehyung groans, but he smiles against Yoongi’s skin. “Maybe I lied a little.”

“You can’t only lie a little. You either did or you didn’t. And you did,” Yoongi teases, and Taehyung decides that there’s nothing else he wants more in life than to be on the receiving end of Yoongi’s teasing.

The pair remain sitting on the floor for the rest of the night as Yoongi asks Taehyung to finally share his struggles with him. Now that they know this can happen to Taehyung, Yoongi wants to make sure Taehyung knows what to do when he feels like he might be repressing his powers again. It’s sweet how concerned Yoongi is for Taehyung’s well-being. He always has been, but it feels different now that Taehyung knows Yoongi loves him, too.

It’s also sweet to receive little kisses in between stories. Taehyung knew being kissed by Yoongi would be life-changing if it ever happened to him. And not just kisses on the lips, but kisses on his eyelids, cheeks, and forehead – god, the forehead kisses! They’re the best, Taehyung decides. They make him feel so, so soft.

What a beautiful thing it is to be loved by Yoongi.

Taehyung feels it in his chest, this flourishing feeling. It’s nothing like the tightness from before. This time, love seeps into his bones rather than stress and fear. This sensation brings him tranquility and light. So much so that Taehyung eventually drifts off to sleep, still in Yoongi’s embrace.

“Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi attempts to rouse Taehyung. “Let's get you to bed, okay?”

With his eyes still closed, Taehyung shakes his head. Physical and emotional exhaustion has caught up with him, but he can’t extricate himself from Yoongi. It sounds like the worst idea in the history of the world.

“I change my mind. I’m not better yet,” Taehyung slurs with drowsiness. Taehyung’s head bobs up and down with the force of Yoongi’s laughter.

“Want me to lie with you?” Yoongi asks. He runs his fingers through Taehyung’s bangs, gently pushing them away from his face as Taehyung lifts his head. It feels good, but everything feels good with Yoongi.

“Okay,” he concedes with eyes still closed. He lets Yoongi maneuver him off his lap and forces himself to stand up because superstrength isn’t one of Yoongi’s powers, and Taehyung is much bigger than him.

He and Yoongi have never cuddled but fall naturally into place once their backs hit the mattress. Much to Taehyung’s surprise, Yoongi rests his head on Taehyung’s chest and wraps his arm around his waist. It’s silly, but the position makes Taehyung feel special, like he’s somehow in charge of ensuring Yoongi has a good cuddling experience. He worries his chest is too bony and his body too thin to feel comfortable.

Yoongi must pick up on Taehyung’s struggle from his stiff body language because he lets out a quiet huff of a laugh and says, “Relax, Tae. I’m happy.”

“I’m happy, too,” Taehyung whispers.

Throughout the apartment, Taehyung’s plants coo.

🌼

In the morning, Taehyung wakes up alone, the night's events hovering at the edge of his mind like a dream easily blinked away. He presses his palm against his chest and inhales deeply. Nothing constricts in his chest or stabs at the inside of his lungs. When he exhales, nothing but air passes through his parted lips. A few stray petals lost in his bed sheets are the only reminder of the debilitating fear that had consumed him less than twelve hours ago.

Taehyung is alive and well, but he is alone.

Panic, rather than flowers and vines, tightens his chest. Had Yoongi regretted sleeping with him? Had he only stayed in bed until Taehyung fell asleep? Was it awkward? Was Taehyung uncomfortable? Oh god, had Taehyung done something weird in his sleep?

Flinging his blankets and sheets off his body, Taehyung scrambles to find his slippers and rushes out of his bedroom. He uses his walk down the short hallway to calm himself the best he can. The last thing he needs is to embarrass himself any further. Yoongi probably thinks he’s a freak.

A little voice inside Taehyung’s head reminds him that Yoongi said he loves him, but his insecurities shoo that bit of information off into a corner somewhere.

Without his blanket wrapped around his shoulders, Taehyung feels naked as he pokes his head around the corner. He knew Yoongi would be in the kitchen; he could hear the bubbling of the coffee maker once he stepped out of his bedroom. Despite being fully prepared to see him, Taehyung feels his throat close up when Yoongi looks over his shoulder.

“Good morning, Taehyung-ah.” Yoongi’s gummy smile will be what kills Taehyung one day. He has long decided that he’s perfectly fine with that.

“Hi, hyung,” Taehyung greets softly.

“How are you feeling?”

“Uhh… I’m, um, okay.” Taehyung stands beside Yoongi at the counter briefly before quickly spinning around to sit on the barstool at the kitchen island.

“That’s good; I’m glad.” The sound of Yoongi’s quiet laughter makes Taehyung’s cheeks burn.

Taehyung knows he’s being awkward, but he isn’t sure what to do now. He’s never been with anyone before. Yoongi wasn’t his first kiss, but Taehyung hasn’t dated anyone. Not that they’re dating now! Or… are they? Does a love confession automatically come with a relationship proposal? Does telling someone you love them mean you’re their boyfriend now?

They don’t teach this stuff in school!

Taehyung clasps his hands in his lap and leans his chest against the edge of the counter. If he tenses his entire body like a squeezed fist, perhaps the jittery energy inside of him will subside. It’s not what he’s supposed to do, though. Yoongi told him not to keep his energy stored inside. Repressed feelings will turn into flowers in his lungs again, and no one wants that.

Momentarily distracted, Taehyung’s attention flits to Yoongi, who groans quietly. A small smile curves Taehyung’s lips upward when Yoongi rises onto his tiptoes to reach a coffee mug on the cabinet's top shelf.

“Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi whines like he always does, “This is my favorite mug; why do you always put it all the way up there?”

“Your shirt rides up when you reach like that and your shorts too, and I just like looking at you, and I like when you ask me to help you, and I realize that makes me sound kind of like a pervert, so I’m going to stop talking now,” Taehyung nearly shouts, rushing the entire sentence in one breath.

Yoongi slowly lowers his arm, leaving his mug on the top shelf, and turns around to face Taehyung. His eyes are wide and bright, nowhere near as sleepy as they’d looked when Taehyung entered the kitchen only a few minutes ago.

“Really?” Yoongi asks with an expression unreadable to Taehyung. “You’ve been doing it intentionally because you think it’s hot?”

“Well, I didn’t, I didn’t say that,” Taehyung sputters. His face burns, the heat like a fire licking down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. “I just meant–”

“Will you help me?”

Taehyung licks his lips. “What?”

Yoongi leans back against the kitchen counter, holding the edge on either side of his hips. There’s something about the way he looks at Taehyung that makes Taehyung’s stomach flutter. Perhaps it’s the gentle intensity of his stare or how he adjusts the angle of his hips just enough to show a sliver of skin between where the hem of his shirt ends and the start of his pajama shorts’ waistband.

“Will you help me get my coffee mug?” Yoongi asks with a tilt of his chin.

“O-okay.” Taehyung nearly knocks the barstool over when he stands. He shouldn’t be nervous. All he’s doing is retrieving his roommate’s favorite coffee mug, but as he draws closer to where Yoongi stands at the counter, Taehyung’s heart leaps up his throat because Yoongi doesn’t get out of the way.

Yoongi follows Taehyung with his eyes, but he stays planted with his back against the counter, directly in front of the cabinet with his mug.

Taehyung swallows and stares down at Yoongi, violently reminded that he’s so much taller and broader than him, even if Yoongi is stockier.

“Hyung?”

Yoongi cocks his head to the side and asks in a somewhat mocking tone, “What? Can’t you reach it?”

Embarrassed for some reason, Taehyung nods and leans forward. He has to reach over and above Yoongi’s shoulder to grab the mug. They’re close enough that their chests brush against each other when Taehyung moves. He shivers at the contact despite growing hot from Yoongi’s body heat.

“Sorry,” Taehyung says in a low voice because he can’t find the strength to speak at a normal level.

With his fingers gripping the handle, Taehyung is about to hand Yoongi the mug when Yoongi hooks his arm around Taehyung’s neck and pulls him downward. The force makes Taehyung hold onto the edge of the counter with his free hand, his fingers grazing Yoongi’s hip.

Taehyung can feel Yoongi’s whole body pressed against his, from the rise and fall of Yoongi’s chest in rhythm with his own down to how Yoongi’s thighs part around Taehyung’s legs. His gaze drops to Yoongi’s lips, which are now mere inches away from his, shiny from the tip of his tongue swiping across them. For a moment, Taehyung is distracted by Yoongi’s fingertips tickling his earlobe, his fingers slipping through the gold hoops of his earrings to tug them lightly. It’s a light, fairly innocent touch, but something about it makes Taehyung’s stomach flutter. Although they cuddled through the night, having Yoongi this close feels different.

“Can I kiss you?” Yoongi’s fingers dance along Taehyung’s neck, a slow smile building on his face.

With a dry mouth, Taehyung mumbles something, but he isn’t sure what. His brain is foggy with a fever he can’t cure but sweat it out under the heat of Yoongi’s stare.

“You’re so cute, Tae.” The compliment is whispered against his lips before Yoongi kisses him.

Yoongi’s pretty lips bite and suck Taehyung’s with a desperation that hadn’t existed the day before. It’s bruising, but Taehyung takes it. He’ll take anything Yoongi gives him, pleasure and love gift-wrapped and topped with the pretty bow of Yoongi’s lip.

Setting the mug down, Taehyung grabs Yoongi’s waist and pulls him against his body, nearly bending him backward with how tightly he holds Yoongi against his chest and how deeply he kisses Yoongi back.

Taehyung whimpers, relishing the feeling of Yoongi’s fingers running through his messy blonde hair. Every tug and twist of the wavy strands makes his body zap with the same jittery energy he’d held in earlier. Except this time, the energy zaps a straight line to his groin rather than frazzle him throughout his body.

Tightening his hold on Yoongi’s waist, Taehyung lifts him onto the counter. Yoongi immediately wraps his legs around Taehyung’s waist, forcing their erections against each other now that Taehyung is fully turned on, and, holy fuck.

“Hyung,” he moans against Yoongi’s mouth. His hands itch to do something, but he doesn’t know what. He keeps them on Yoongi’s hips, digging his fingers into his soft skin just under the hem of his t-shirt.

“God, Taehyung.” Yoongi buries his face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck. “I want you.”

A violent tremble ripples through Taehyung’s body. Never has he heard Yoongi sound like this, his voice low and thick with desire – all because of Taehyung. It’s impossible to wrap his mind around. He can barely breathe as Yoongi’s fingers skirt the hem of his sweatpants, dipping in shallowly at his hip bones.

“You want me?” Insecurity drips from the question, pooling in the distance Taehyung creates between them when he leans away to look Yoongi in the eyes.

Yoongi bites his bottom lip and assesses Taehyung with catlike eyes sharp enough to slice through the armor Taehyung has already begun building around him.

“Yeah, Tae. I’ve always wanted you,” Yoongi admits and shocks Taehyung by squeezing his ass to pull him back against Yoongi’s chest.

The confession coaxes out desire from deep inside Taehyung’s core. He feels a flood of warmth that spreads up his body and makes him throb with what he eventually realizes is impatience. Moaning again for Yoongi to swallow the sound, Taehyung hooks his arms around Yoongi’s thighs and hoists him up.

“Fuck, god, why is this so hot.” Yoongi squeezes his legs around Taehyung’s waist and slips his hands inside his t-shirt from the back to hold Taehyung’s sides. It’s the most adventurous Taehyung has ever been, carrying Yoongi into his bedroom and delicately placing him onto the bed.

They’re a flurry of hands fumbling with buttons and zippers and teeth biting lips. They move in a dance of desperation, a feverish push and pull between the two of them. Taehyung gets lost in the expanse of Yoongi’s perfect skin, from his broad shoulders to his soft stomach.

Not surprisingly, when Taehyung discards the rest of his clothes and eases onto the bed to lie on his back, he doesn’t feel the debilitating anxiety he always assumed he’d feel when he finally got fully naked in front of another person. Yoongi is far too gentle to bring about shame or embarrassment in Taehyung. He cradles Taehyung’s face as he kneels between his legs and kisses him with so much care that Taehyung worries he might cry.

“I don’t mean to be vulgar, I love you, but, god, I’ve driven myself crazy thinking about how you’d feel around me.”

Yoongi’s teeth drag against Taehyung’s bottom lip as he slowly pulls away, though he keeps his fingers curled in Taehyung’s hair. But when Taehyung doesn't respond, Yoong sits back to look at him with worry lines creasing between his eyebrows. 

Taehyung’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. He’s seeing a side of Yoongi he never has before, and it’s equal parts exhilarating and nerve-wracking. At this moment, Taehyung’s inexperience weighs on his conscience so crushingly that he trembles from anxiety. Will Yoongi hate him for being nervous? What if Taehyung isn’t ready to do the things Yoongi so clearly wants?

"Do you... not feel the same?"

It's ridiculous because Taehyung is lying naked in Yoongi's bed; of course, he wants Yoongi, too. Unfortunately, Taehyung lacks the confidence that Yoongi has. There are too many worries that have weighed down what was otherwise an enthusiastic desire to get into Yoongi's bed. It feels as though Taehyung went too hard too fast, and now he's coming down as he realizes what he has gotten himself into. 

“I’ve never done that before…” Taehyung confesses, too nervous to say what, but the softness of Yoongi’s expression tells him that he knows.

“It’s okay,” Yoongi soothes him. “We don’t have to–”

Taehyung sits up quickly, and Yoongi moves out of the way to let them kneel on the bed facing each other. It’s an intimate experience to sit like that and gaze into each other’s eyes, searching for understanding – even more so than having their naked bodies pressed together.

“No! I want to.”

“Okay. But we don’t even need to go all the way. I know you haven’t.”

“I swear I want to. I’m just… I don’t know if I can, um, I’m scared to let someone, uh…” Taehyung cuts himself off and turns his head to the side, looking away from Yoongi. It’s suddenly too warm in Yoongi’s bedroom.

“Hyung, you get what I’m trying to say.”

Taehyung isn’t sure if Yoongi’s powers are limited to physical pain or if he can heal emotional distress, but he swears that his tension melts away as Yoongi rubs his palms up the tops of his thighs in gentle caresses.

“You’re nervous about bottoming?”

Taehyung nods. He figures he should be an adult about this and stop avoiding Yoongi’s gaze. He’s not entirely innocent about sex; he’s had a few experiences in the past, mostly with people he went on dates with and who expected something out of it. A few sporadic handjobs and blowjobs are nothing compared to this.

Yoongi’s hands leave Taehyung’s thighs to rest on his biceps with a comforting touch. “You can be on top; I don’t care. I just want you in any way you want me to have you. If you want to try that later, we can.”

“I do.”

“Okay, Taehyung-ah, later. I’ll help you.”

Taehyung watches Yoongi shuffle a bit until he can reach his nightstand drawer. His heart beats faster at seeing the condom and bottle of lube that Yoongi drops onto the bed beside him. This is actually happening, and Taehyung has no idea how to regulate the breath that rushes through him so quickly that he feels lightheaded.

“Do you want to try prepping me?” Yoongi holds the bottle of lube over Taehyung’s outstretched fingers. “Rub it a little first since it’s cold.” Taehyung does as he’s told, his body trembling in anticipation. Yoongi uses the free moment to get into position on his forearms and knees in front of where Taehyung kneels.

“Yoongi,” Taehyung squeaks, “What are you–”

“Oh, come on, Taehyung-ah. Don’t be such a prude,” Yoongi teases.

Sufficiently chastised in the kindest way, Taehyung swallows his enthusiasm and takes a deep breath as he tentatively rubs his fingers around Yoongi’s rim. He'd be a liar if he said he hadn't thought about being with Yoongi. He never let the thoughts turn too sexual out of respect for his friend, so Taehyung never imagined the logistics of it all. It doesn't help that Taehyung doesn't have the experience to know what he likes. Luckily, he likes Yoongi, and that's all that matters. Anything with Yoongi will be perfect. 

“Will you tell me if I hurt you?”

Yoongi hums. “Of course, babe, but don’t worry. You’ll do a good job.”

Babe.

Taehyung stutters when he hears the new term of endearment and nearly slips out of place when he slides one of his lubed fingers inside Yoongi. No one has ever called him babe or any variation of the word before. He so desperately wants Yoongi to call him that again.

“Yoongi?”

It’s hard to talk to Yoongi through all his moaning as Taehyung gently but efficiently fingers him open, following every suggestion Yoongi gives him as he explores the spot that makes Yoongi’s legs tremble. It’s hard for Taehyung to even think with his pounding heartbeat and throbbing, neglected cock, but he reminds himself that what he has to ask Yoongi is important.

“W-what, Taehyung?” Yoongi groans, rocking back against Taehyung’s fingers. “I’m good now. Just, just put the condom on, okay? Do you need help?”

Determined to figure everything out on his own, Taehyung fumbles with the package with slippery fingers, eventually ripping it open with his teeth. Why Yoongi moans when Taehyung does that, he’s not sure, but the sound goes straight to his cock.

“I, um.”

“Come on, Tae,” Yoongi whines just like he does when he can’t reach the mug on the top shelf, but this time, it’s so much hotter and demanding.

With a shaky breath, Taehyung presses his cock against Yoongi’s rim. He stays still, resting back on his heels as he kneels behind Yoongi to let him ease onto his cock at his own pace. The slow pace is both not enough and too much for Taehyung to handle. Yoongi’s heat, the slickness of the lube Yoongi told him to add before he put on the condom, the pretty sounds Yoongi makes as he begins fucking himself on Taehyung’s cock – it’s all too much.

Sweat beads along Taehyung’s hairline, wetting his dirty-blonde bangs to his forehead. His jaw aches from how hard he’s biting down on his molars to keep himself from coming as Yoongi picks up the pace. There’s no way he’s going to be the type of virgin to immediately orgasm; the embarrassment would eat him alive.

Squeezing Yoongi’s hips to guide him onto his cock despite knowing Yoongi is clearly capable of handling this himself, Taehyung tries to ground himself in the feeling of Yoongi’s soft skin under the press of his fingertips. He's beautiful, stretched out in front of Taehyung, so gentle and pliant but still in control as he guides Taehyung with his hips, ensnaring him. 

“Hyung,” Taehyung chokes out.

“F-fuck, yeah? Taehyung-ah? Feel good, baby?”

Baby.

Taehyung is fucked. He closes his eyes and lets his head hang back as the sound of skin against skin and their moans fill the room. Despite his determination to be a good partner, Taehyung knows he won’t last. He only hopes he can make Yoongi feel good. After all Yoongi has done for him, he deserves to feel good.

Suddenly overwhelmed with emotion beyond the shiver of pleasure Yoongi brings him with every slap of his ass against Taehyung’s hips, Taehyung digs his fingers into Yoongi’s skin. He begins to thrust against Yoongi, meeting him with a snap of his hips every time Yoongi fucks himself onto Taehyung's cock. 

“Are you,” Taehyung gasps when Yoongi swivels his hips.

“Yeah, yeah, I am.” Taehyung is confused because Yoongi answers his question without knowing what he’s asking. “Don’t, ahh, fuck, judge me, okay? Been awhile. Just touch me.”

Reaching back, Yoongi gestures for Taehyung’s hand to bring Taehyung’s arm around his waist. Already slick with leftover lube, Taehyung’s hand glides smoothly along Yoongi’s cock. He pumps and twists his wrist hard and fast, which prompts Yoongi to thrust backward faster, too.

The tightness of arousal coiling in Taehyung’s body makes his muscles ache, his movements growing uncoordinated and sloppy. Taehyung groans and slumps forward. With his body draped over Yoongi’s, he presses a hot kiss at the edge of his jaw and asks the question that has been burning on his tongue ever since Yoongi uttered those three words to him: 

“Hyung… Are, are you my boyfriend?”

“W-what–”

Yoongi’s question is interrupted by his orgasm, the force of which causes his limbs to collapse. He shakily tries to stay up on his hands to keep up the rhythm, but Taehyung takes over with a burning desire to chase his own high.

Taehyung fucks Yoongi through his orgasm, luckily already on the edge of finding his own release before he pushes Yoongi into overstimulation. With one hand pressed to Yoongi’s stomach and the other squeezing his hip to hold him up, Taehyung finishes into the condom with gasp that verges on a sob.

Arms trembling, Taehyung holds himself up with his hands pressed into the mattress on either side of Yoongi’s head, where he lies on his stomach, his own arms having completely given out. Taehyung lets his head hang forward to lightly press into the middle of Yoongi’s back as he catches his breath.

Now, he understands why everyone goes on about sex so much, but even more than that, he’s got those warm, fuzzy feelings because it was with Yoongi. He got to fall apart because of Yoongi, got to see Yoongi shake and moan his name. Taehyung will have that sweet sound imprinted into his mind for the rest of his life.

“Are you okay, hyung?”

When Yoongi nods, Taehyung slowly eases out of him and removes the condom with twitching fingers. He feels like the blood has left his limbs, leaving tingling needles in its place.

“I don’t know if I can walk,” Taehyung admits weakly, though he stands up anyway.

Yoongi lets out a huff that Taehyung thinks is a laugh, but his face is smushed into the bed.

“Don’t make fun of me, hyung,” Taehyung complains.

Magically, he finds the willpower to rush out of the bedroom. It would be gross to leave the condom out anyway, right? He has to throw it away. By the time he returns to Yoongi’s bedroom from the bathroom, Yoongi is lying on his back with the blankets kicked onto the floor.

“Come here,” Yoongi beckons, and Taehyung is charmed by the gravelly edge to his voice.

“I’m not making fun of you, Taehyung-ah. You’re just so cute.” 

Taehyung snuggles his face into the crook of Yoongi’s neck and breathes in his familiar scent of eucalyptus and peppermint. Even with their bodies sweaty and warm, having Yoongi so close brings Taehyung comfort. It has always been like this, ever since the moment Taehyung met Yoongi. It’s fitting, he supposes, for a man who can heal with the press of a single fingertip. Despite the darker side of Yoongi’s powers that comes with the lighter side, Taehyung finds that there’s no one else he feels safer with.

With a playfully irritated groan, Taehyung lets his body completely flop on top of Yoongi’s. He’s deadweight, but Yoongi is strong enough not to crumble under the pressure. 

“Areyoumyboyfriendhyung?”

Yoongi stretches his neck in an attempt to pull away to hear Taehyung better. “What was that?”

“I asked if you’re my boyfriend. Please don’t make me say it again.” Taehyung’s cheeks are on fire. Why is this part more embarrassing than having sex for the first time?

“I would like to be, yeah.”

“Me too,” Taehyung whispers. “That would be really nice.”

Yoongi digs his fingers into Taehyung’s yellow curls and massages his scalp gently. “I love you, Taehyung-ah. Thank you for letting me in.” 

In the room, in his heart, in his life. Yoongi says everything in such few words, making Taehyung love him so much more. He manages to mumble his reply into the crook of Yoongi’s neck, speaking about his love for his friend – boyfriend! – into his skin, for his body to know just as well as his mind and heart do. 

In a way, Taehyung can imagine his heart as a flower, budding with slow intentionality and coaxed to bloom by Yoongi’s tender love. Rather than suffocate, Taehyung allows happiness to take root inside of him. 

@rkiveslibrary @mar-lo-pap @remmykinsff

[borathae]

Stardust

" Taehyung, who is gazing at the endless galaxies in Jungkook’s deep brown eyes, answers him in whispers. “I love the stars as well.” Jungkook, unaware that Taehyung didn’t speak of nature's stars but those of his, looks up at Taehyung."

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Vampire!Taehyung

Genre: established relationship!AU, polyamory!AU, Slice of Life Fluff

Warnings: Tae tries so hard and it's reciprocated!, they're actually so in love :(, idk man this entire polycule just hits so hard whenever i write for them, a cute date, and Tae being an excited bean, and Kook being a cutie, goodness this is so cute and romantic :(

Wordcount: 2.7k

a/n: i cry into my pillow each night. i love this family so much :(

Taehyung and the others have returned from The Plains two days ago. Life at the estate didn’t change during the days they spent far away in the other realm. The plants still grew, the rooms were still homely and the sun still felt the same on the skin. Jimin was already at home again after going on a trip with Hoseok where they visited Seokjin and Emma in Gordes. The entire family had dinner together on the first night reunited. Conversation was amazing and laughter was great.

But this story is neither about the wonderful dinner nor the reunion. This story is about Taehyung and his unbearable desire to see Jungkook. 

It has been five hours since he last saw him in the home gym and Taehyung is going mad without him. Such intense feelings are still unbelievably unfamiliar to him. Truly, Taehyung isn’t used to being so needy for a person. Not in a sexual way, but an emotional way. All Taehyung craves is to hear Jungkook’s laugh, to experience his scent, to gaze at his face and feel his hug. He also craves every story Jungkook could possibly tell and needs every single word this man could ever utter. Oh, he craves this man so very much.

The door to Jungkook’s wing is unlocked and Taehyung sees it as his consent to go in. He takes off his shoes by the door, using the audible cues as his guidance. He has music playing and judging by the pungent scent of paint in the air, he is repainting walls. 

It was very easy to return to his real self after coming home from The Plains. Being human was fun and a new experience, but Taehyung must admit that he prefers to be a vampire. He enjoys his heightened senses and how invincible his body is again. The only thing he misses is his pulse and how real his body warmth felt. It was so utterly exciting to feel both of these things rise whenever Taehyung found himself close to Jungkook.

Speaking of Jungkook, Taehyung finds him in his living room. Well, his living room to be. Jungkook is still in the midst of renovating the room. Taehyung knocks on the opened door. He was incorrect about the walls. Jungkook is actually painting the ceiling. He chose a dark blue to contrast with the white walls. 

Jungkook lowers the paint roller, studying Taehyung.

“Hello”, Taehyung says, waving his hand shyly.

“Hey there.”

“The, uhm, the ceiling is already looking very good.”

“Yeah, right? It’s coming along nicely. I’m really liking the colour.”

“Yes, it is a very beautiful colour.”

“At first I was worried that it would be too dark, but I like it now.”

“Indeed, it fits the room very well.”

Jungkook sinks the roller into new paint and spreads it on the ceiling. He thinks that Taehyung merely came here to chat, unaware that the vampire wants to ask him for a date. Taehyung doesn’t take it to heart, watching the younger vampire with a fluttering stomach. Now that he is in front of him, Taehyung forgot every single word he ever learned.

Jungkook manages to cover quite a lot before Taehyung finally feels courageous enough to ask.

“Jungkook, may I ask you something?”

“Hm? Yeah, sure. What’s up?” Jungkook says, placing the roller aside and climbing off the ladder to hurry to Taehyung. 

“You, uhm, you have paint on your face.”

“I do? Crap.” Jungkook wipes his face blindly. “It’s the position. It’s getting everywhere.” 

Taehyung takes the cloth from Jungkook’s overalls and licks a corner of it to wipe his face with it.

“May I?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook lets him with bated breath, eyes racing over his features. He misses how much his heart raced in The Plains. Now it stays still eventhough Jungkook doesn’t feel calm. He feels giddy. Really, really giddy. Like a person who can’t believe that their crush likes them back.

“There. Now you are clean”, Taehyung finishes the job, stuffing the cloth back into Jungkook’s pocket.

“Thank you, chèri.”

Their eyes meet briefly. Jungkook grins. Taehyung flusters.

“How did that sound?”

“Nice”, Taehyung whispers and tugs Jungkook’s into a kiss by his hips.

“Mhm”, Jungkook lets out, keeping his hands away from Taehyung in order not to get him dirty.

The kiss breaks because Jungkook broke it, chuckling fondly as he does.

“Nice, it feels so nice”, Taehyung murmurs, snuggling into the crook of Jungkook’s neck.

“I’m dirty, you know.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’ll care when I accidentally put paint on your expensive shirt.”

Taehyung laughs with Jungkook, fingers playing with his belt loops mindlessly. 

“What’s up? You wanted to ask me something.”

“Ah yes! Do you perhaps want to come to my wing later? I want to show you my atelier.”

“Uh, atelier tour. Yeah, I’d like that. Am I gonna see your star painting then?”

“Yes, it will be the first thing I will show you.”

“Neat. Is it okay for you if I finish the ceiling first? I don’t want it to get patchy.”

“Of course, take your time. I shall wait for you in my wing. Please take your time.”

“I’ll be quick. Promise”, Jungkook says and turns to return to his task. 

Taehyung leaves his wing as well, bursting in giddy excitement. He will be able to show Jungkook his stars ceiling and his secret room. Jungkook will be the second person after you to know of the room’s existence (Taehyung isn’t aware that Yoongi knows the room as well after he once found you sulking in it a long time ago).

“Taehyung?”

Taehyung is in the atelier, doing the last finishing touches, when Jungkook calls out for him. The older vampire hurries outside, speeding up when his eyes fall upon Jungkook waiting by the front door. He dressed up, body hued in blue jeans and a red button up. Taehyung feels his stomach flutter. He is so beautiful.

“Look at you. You are so handsome”, he gushes, greeting Jungkook by taking both his hands and kissing his knuckles.

“You’re handsome too”, Jungkook says, gazing at him fondly. 

Taehyung straightens up, touching Jungkook’s waist. Truly, he cannot keep his hands to himself.

“Please, come in. I am so happy that you are finally here.”

“Sorry it took me a while. I had to shower and everything”, Jungkook excuses himself as he slips out of his house shoes. 

All of you mostly wear house shoes when you hurry around the estate, but take them off once you are in each other’s wings. It is cleaner this way and less cold on the feet.

“No worries, I told you to take your time and I meant it. I prepared wine and chocolate. I hope you like them.”

“I love wine and chocolate.”

They intertwine their hands as they wander to Taehyung’s atelier. Jungkook has already been in Taehyung’s wing before, having spent his time in his bedroom and bathroom, so he is familiar with the artful hallways the older vampire curated over the centuries.

“I am very happy to hear that. I find wine and chocolate to be a wonderful combination.”

“Yeah, right.” 

They reach the atelier. Taehyung stops and turns to take both of Jungkook’s hands.

“Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

“Close your eyes.”

Jungkook follows with a giggle, squeezing Taehyung’s hands in excited anticipation.

Taehyung leans in and steals a kiss, eliciting another giggle from Jungkook. Only once the kiss was stolen and Jungkook properly charmed, does Taehyung finally lead him inside. 

“Keep them closed.”

“I am.”

Taehyung places Jungkook in the middle of his atelier, right underneath the moon and endless stars. He lets go of his hands and steps aside.

“Open them.”

Jungkook opens his eyes, gasping in delighted surprise.

“Wow, it’s beautiful here”, he says softly, looking around the room. The artful murals, the countless canvases, the scattered art supplies and well-preserved antiques. The love Taehyung has for this room and which he also poured into his art in this room is felt greatly by Jungkook. 

“This is the most beautiful studio ever. I love it so much” he gushes, “is the stars painting one of those paintings?” he asks and steps closer to the huge canvases Taehyung keeps leaned against the wall.

“Look up”, Taehyung tells him, almost bursting in excitement.

Jungkook lifts his head. His face falls, his eyes widen.

“Holy fuck.”

Taehyung giggles and cackles, bouncing on the spot as his face contorts into the brightest smile.

“Woah. Yo, holy shit. Wow.”

Taehyung grabs Jungkook’s arm, shaking it in excitement. The latter looks at him, unable to hide his true bafflement.

“This is blowing my mind. This is the most beautiful ceiling I have ever seen.”

“I, I painted it myself.”

“You did what?!”

Taehyung steps closer, shaking Jungkook’s arm harder. He might burst in giddiness.

“I painted it. I spent three years of my life watching the sky and painting what I saw.”

“Holy fuck, Tae. This is the most impressive thing I’ve ever seen. Wow”, Jungkook says, looking up at the ceiling again to take in the beauty of it, “wow…”

“I had hoped that you would like it.”

“I love it. It’s seriously baffling to me. You painted that, like, holy fuck.”

Taehyung giggles and cuddles Jungkook from the side.

“You make me so giddy.”

Jungkook chuckles, wrapping his arm around him. He cranes his neck to kiss the crown of Taehyung’s head.

“You’re cute and fucking talented. Wow, I can’t stop staring. Wow.”

“Do you want to know how I was able to watch the sky?”

“Of course. Did you go outside on the balcony?” 

“No, better.”

“Better?” 

Taehyung tugs Jungkook with him by his hands.

“Follow me. I want to show you something very special. It is my place of tranquillity. Only ___ knows of it.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

“Wow Tae, seriously this room is amazing. Did you paint the murals too?”

“I did.”

“Damn Tae, just wow.”

Jungkook has to exclaim yet another round of “wow”s, when Taehyung shows him the entrance to his secret room. He follows him with even more exclaims of wonder on his lips, meeting his crescendo when he finally stands in the octagon shaped library. Taehyung, bursting in giddiness, lies him down on the mattress and tells him to keep his eyes on the ceiling. Then he hurries to the lever, opening it with his eyes not once leaving Jungkook’s face. He wants to take in his first reaction.

“Wow!” Jungkook gasps and then becomes silent as the view steals his words. All he can do is stare and gaze in wonder as the ceiling moves aside to make space for the endless night sky.

Taehyung hurries to him, lying down beside him. He cuddles into him in a way which still allows him to look at his face.

“What are you thinking?”

“This is so beautiful”, Jungkook whispers, tearing up, “I love the stars so much.”

Taehyung, who is gazing at the endless galaxies in Jungkook’s deep brown eyes, answers him in whispers.

“I love the stars as well.”

Jungkook, unaware that Taehyung didn’t speak of nature’s stars but those of his’, looks up at Taehyung.

“I can’t believe that I lived here all these months without knowing that this room exists.”

“I keep it well hidden. I find great healing in this room and only people most special to me get to know of its existence.”

Jungkook blinks away tears, “thank you so much for trusting me.”

Taehyung kisses his lips. Softly and with love.

“I will always trust you”, he whispers, caressing his cheek slowly.

Jungkook flusters, lowering his eyes shyly. He might still be far away from perfect control, but at least with Taehyung, he can experience gentle love already. Jungkook feels at peace in his presence. And uncontrollably giddy. He lifts his eyes again so he could look at the face which makes his stomach flutter so very much. Jungkook thinks that he is even more beautiful with the stars as his backdrop.

“Do you want to see something else? And then we can finally enjoy the wine and chocolate under the stars”, Taehyung asks with sparkling eyes.

“Of course, show me”, Jungkook whispers. 

“Follow me”, Taehyung drags Jungkook to one of the shelves.

“Is it by the books?” the younger follows with a fond smile.

“Indeed, yes indeed. I have books you could enjoy. I, I gathered them here for you”, Taehyung says and takes out a big heap of books, putting them on the floor. 

He and Jungkook sit down cross legged and while Taehyung stares at him in anticipation, Jungkook takes one of the books. 

“Really?” he gasps, eyes lighting up and racing over the other books as well, “all of these books are about the stars and the universe and, and astronomy!”

“Indeed. Yes, indeed”, Taehyung giggles, bouncing on the spot, “do you know any of them already?”

“No. I don’t know any of them yet. Oh my god, this one! I wanted to read this for so long, but I could never find it anywhere!”

“It is first edition. I knew the author and they gave me a copy when it was first released.”

“Wow, oh wow this is so cool, wow”, Jungkook wipes his eyes quickly, giggling, “I can’t believe I’m holding these books.”

“You can have them.”

“What?” 

Their eyes meet. Jungkook has widened his eyes so immensely that they appear almost round. 

“You can have them. I want to give them to you.”

“But. No. No, I can’t take them. They’re yours and they’re expensive and, and valuable.”

“And I want them to be yours”, Taehyung assures him, “they would catch dust up here with me. Knowing that they could find a worthy home with you, would mean so much more to me.”

“I can’t take them, no.”

“Yes, you can. They are yours. Truly.”

“But-”

“No buts. I insist”, Taehyung shoves them closer to Jungkook, “they are yours.”

“Are you really sure?”

“I am. So very sure.”

“Oh god. Thank you”, Jungkook falls around Taehyung’s neck, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Taehyung smiles, hugging him as tightly as possible. The sweet scent of true happiness radiates off of Jungkook. His squeaky giggles are yet another indicator of the immense happiness Taehyung makes him feel.

“Thank you so much. Thank you so, so much.”

“I’m so happy to know that they found a new home. They will be well taken care of.”

“They will, oh god”, Jungkook sits back on his heels, beaming at Taehyung with glassy eyes, “you have no idea how much I dreamed of having more astronomy books. I, I only have a few and, and they are either very modern or really ruined already. I, I read all of them so many times already and, and now I have new things to go through, oh god. I want to cry, oh god”, Jungkook hides his face in his hands and sobs a little.

“Goodness, don’t cry”, Taehyung gasps, rubbing his arms soothingly.

“I’m just feeling overwhelmed. I appreciate this so much. How did you know I would like all of this?”

“I truly hoped that you would. You told me about your love for astronomy and so I wished for all of this to be of your liking.”

“It is. All of it. Oh god”, Jungkook sobs softly. He is being seen and therefore loved. If this is what dating a man feels like, Jungkook is so glad that he can finally experience it. It feels so good to be treated so well.

“Are these happy tears? I cannot tell anymore.”

Jungkook nods his head, “I’m happy.”

“Yes? Oh, mon amour I’m happy to know”, Taehyung gushes, dropping his hands to Jungkook’s thighs. 

Jungkook lowers his hands to hold Taehyung’s, smiling at him even if he sniffles. 

“I’m so happy. I’m so, so happy.”

Taehyung smiles, feeling incredibly warm in his chest.

“This means more to me than you might think. All I want is your happiness, my north star.”

“Oh god”, Jungkook giggles, falling around Taehyung’s neck again, “oh god, Tae. I love you.”

“I love you too, mon bel amour.”

[tsukisrants]

TSUKI’s MASTERLIST

Updates are not consistent, yet if you have requests let me know because I might write them!

KEEP IN MIND THAT MOST OF MY WORKS (actually all of them) ARE NSFW, so if you’re not comfortable with that pls don’t read them.

If you have requests that are NOT NSFW, I’ll WRITE THOSE TOO!!

BTS

Jeon Jungkook - First Prize

Kim Namjoon - The Babysitter

Kim Taehyung - Crawling Back to You

ATEEZ

Park Seonghwa - Time To Work

Jung Wooyoung/Song Mingi - The Best Boyfriend Ever

Jeong Yunho - Pretty Please

[kingofbodyrolls]

Songs of the Heart (m) | pjm | the sixth note

*this is a re-upload since I deleted my old account ����

notes about parents’ meetings.

→ Pairing: jimin x reader (female) → AUs: musician!au (not completely idol!au), single dad!au, slice of life!au → Trope: established relationship → Genres: romance / fluff / healing → Rating: mature/explicit/R18  (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 1k → Warnings + triggers: mention of past character deaths. → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: almost at the end 🥹

← previous | series masterlist | main masterlist | next →

It’s only been a few weeks since Jimin sat in that small, fluorescent-lit room, hearing the words every parent longs for—“Hwa-Young is doing so much better.” His heart had swelled with pride, relief washing over him like a summer rain. That moment was everything to Jimin, a tiny beacon of reassurance.

But tonight, the scene is different. The school is buzzing with life, the air thick with the murmur of voices as parents stream in from every direction. Jimin exhales, shoving his hands into his pockets, his cap pulled low to shield his face. He isn’t fond of these large parents’ meetings. Too many people—some who stare at him with wide-eyed awe, while others avoid him entirely. He prefers the latter.

If only you were here. Your steady presence would make this whole ordeal bearable. But work calls, and Jiwoo’s mother is at home with Hwa-Young, probably making sure she doesn’t burn the house down while scrolling endlessly on her phone. He sighs. Tonight, he’s flying solo.

Inside the big auditorium, the teachers are already at the podium, their voices droning on about the upcoming semester. Jimin sits near the back, slouching into the shadows, counting down the minutes. When the assembly finally ends, parents shuffle toward their children’s classrooms in a disjointed stream. Jimin follows the flow, his steps measured, his heart only half in it.

Hwa-Young’s classroom feels smaller than he remembers, the air heavy with anticipation. A few parents are already seated, murmuring among themselves. Jimin slips into the back row, grateful for the anonymity of his chosen spot.

Then, someone settles into the chair beside him. Jimin glances over briefly—a tall man with softly curling brown hair sits there, looking as bored and out of place as Jimin feels. Their gazes don’t meet. Jimin keeps to himself, hoping to ride out the meeting unnoticed.

But the stranger has other plans. He clears his throat and turns slightly toward Jimin, offering a friendly grin. “You seem to hate these meetings as much as I do,” he says, his tone light, almost conspiratorial. He stretches out a hand. “I’m Kim Taehyung.”

Jimin hesitates for only a second before shaking the offered hand. But before he can even introduce himself, Taehyung smirks knowingly. “And that cap is doing nothing to hide your identity, Park Jimin.”

Jimin lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Fair enough. I just want to get this over with and get back home to my daughter and wife.”

Taehyung’s expression shifts slightly, his eyes softening with an emotion Jimin can’t quite place. “I get that,” Taehyung says, his voice quieter now. “I’ve got a daughter too—she’s a handful. Just like her mother.” He pauses, his smile faltering for a moment. “But it’s just me and my girl now. My wife passed away a few years ago.”

Jimin feels the weight of Taehyung’s words settle over him like a cloud. His chest tightens. He knows that pain too well. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice low, sincere.

Taehyung nods, his smile faint but steady. “Thanks. It’s been a while, and the pain…it never really goes away, you know? But we make do.”

Jimin hesitates, then decides to take a leap. “I get it,” he says quietly. “I lost my best friend—a decade ago now. She was… Hwa-Young’s mother.” The words feel strange on his tongue, so rarely spoken aloud, especially to a stranger. But Taehyung’s understanding gaze makes it easier.

Taehyung sighs, the sound heavy with shared grief. “That’s rough. I guess it’s a kind of pain we get used to carrying, huh?” He shifts in his seat, his voice tinged with frustration. “My girl’s been acting out lately. I don’t know how to handle her, honestly. Losing her mom hit her hard, and I’m… I’m just trying to keep it together.”

Jimin leans in slightly, his empathy bubbling to the surface. “Therapy helped us,” he offers, his voice steady but kind. “It’s not a fix-all, but it’s made a difference.”

Taehyung considers this, nodding slowly. “Thanks. I might try that. I’m almost at my wits’ end.” He chuckles dryly, but there’s no humor in it.

They sit in silence for a moment, the low hum of other parents filling the room. Then Jimin speaks, almost to himself. “My daughter doesn’t have many friends…” He trails off, wondering if he should say what he’s thinking. Would Hwa-Young hate him for playing matchmaker?

“But maybe,” he says carefully, “our girls could hang out?” He offers a tentative smile, hoping he’s not overstepping.

Taehyung’s laugh comes suddenly, deep and warm, drawing a few disapproving glances from the front of the room. He raises a hand in apology, then muffles his next laugh behind his palm. “I don’t know what Sujin will say to that,” he says, shaking his head.

Jimin freezes. His eyebrows shoot up. “Your daughter is Sujin?”

Taehyung nods, still smiling.

Jimin’s surprise turns to amusement. “Then I guess our daughters already know each other. My daughter is Hwa-Young.”

Taehyung blinks, then laughs again. “You’re kidding me. I had no idea. Park’s a common name—I didn’t even connect the dots.”

Jimin grins, feeling an odd sense of relief. “They talk about each other all the time. You guys should come over sometime. We’ve been meaning to meet Sujin, anyway.”

Before Taehyung can respond, the teacher walks in, her sharp gaze sweeping the room. “Mr. Park and Mr. Kim,” she says, her voice cutting through the quiet like a knife, “if you’re done, perhaps we can begin?”

Heat floods Jimin’s cheeks as the other parents turn to look at them. It feels like he’s back in high school, caught whispering during a lecture. Taehyung, on the other hand, looks completely unbothered, his easy grin firmly in place.

As the meeting drags on, Jimin finds his thoughts drifting. He glances at Taehyung out of the corner of his eye, wondering if this chance meeting might lead to something unexpected—something good.

And when the teacher finally dismisses them, Taehyung turns to him with a smile. “So, dinner at your place next week?”

Jimin chuckles, feeling a spark of something he hasn’t felt in a while. “It’s a deal.”

→ Requested series taglist: @13-manggaetteok, @mima795, @hnnnjm, @flaneuseonthestreets,  @miniesjams32, @graydolan12, @rinkud, @allie-in-the-moon, @pjmxxjmdipity,

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @fancypeacepersona, @ktownshizzle, @pjmxxjm, @ajoonniice, @kookiewithluv, @mikrokookiex, @rapmonjoon94, @parkitrighthere,

→ Author’s endnote: had you already connected the dots??? 🤭

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2025 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[taekookpassion]

Whispers of Love in Rain

<< Picture credit to the rightful owners >>

Title : Whispers of Love in Rain Characters : Jeon Jungkook , Kim Taehyung Summary: On a stormy night, Jungkook drives through the rain, longing for the peace of home. But fate has other plans as he spots Taehyung, a stranger risking everything to save a litter of puppies from the unforgiving storm. Moved by his courage and vulnerability, Jungkook steps in to help. Word count : 1462 words Warnings : Fluff with hints of romance, Soft, suggestive tension, Minor descriptions of physical touch, Gentle kissing scene, Emotional vulnerability Author's Note: Thank you for reading! I wanted to write a tender, slow romance that captures the beauty of human connection and kindness. Jungkook and Taehyung's story reflects how simple moments can leave lasting impressions and change the course of one’s life.

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Jungkook, a young man with a heart spun from golden threads, drove through the evening streets as the rain painted the world in a liquid silver. The soft purr of the engine hummed like a lullaby, blending with the patter of raindrops dancing against his windows. The city, shrouded in a gentle mist, glistened like a forgotten dream, the streetlights casting their reflections on the wet pavement like glowing lanterns on a quiet river.

Fatigue tugged at his bones, but there was a quiet contentment in his heart. He looked forward to the warmth of his apartment, to slipping away from the day's chaos. The rain grew heavier, veiling the world outside, each droplet a tiny messenger of the sky's secrets.

As he neared a dimly lit intersection, something unusual caught Jungkook's eye. A figure moved gracefully through the downpour, their soaked frock clinging to their body like a lover who refused to let go. The rain had sculpted the fabric to their form, revealing the contours with an intimacy that seemed almost too raw for the indifferent storm. Curiosity, gentle and insistent, tugged at Jungkook’s chest. He slowed the car, lingering just a little longer.

Beneath the soft glow of the headlights, the truth of the scene unfurled. The figure was a boy, slender and delicate, his raven hair plastered to his forehead like ink strokes on a canvas. He was gathering something—small, trembling shapes—newborn puppies, their tiny forms quivering with cold and fear, cradled in his arms as if they were the most fragile treasures the world had ever known. Each one a tiny heartbeat in the storm, a flicker of life clinging to existence in the relentless rain.

Jungkook’s heart clenched, emotion rippling through him like the waves of the storm. He couldn’t just drive past—not when someone was trying to save such innocent, vulnerable creatures from nature’s harsh grasp. He pulled over, his car coming to a gentle stop as the rain drummed its melody against the roof.

The boy, named Taehyung, was so absorbed in his mission that he didn’t notice Jungkook at first. His hands moved with tender precision, wrapping each puppy in his drenched coat, his movements as delicate as an artist’s brush strokes on fine parchment. The sight was mesmerizing—a quiet act of heroism wrapped in the softness of a boy who had the storm raging behind him and yet carried calm within.

Jungkook stepped out into the rain, the cold droplets kissing his skin like icy whispers. Each step towards Taehyung felt like stepping into a world apart from reality, a world where only they and the trembling puppies existed.

“Need a hand?” Jungkook's voice, though gentle, cut through the storm like a warm breeze on a winter's day.

Startled, Taehyung looked up, his eyes wide, soft brown pools filled with surprise and something deeper—gratitude, perhaps. The puppy in his arms squirmed as if sensing the shift. Taehyung’s hair stuck to his forehead in dark, damp strands, giving him an air of vulnerability that stirred something deep within Jungkook.

“Thank you,” Taehyung’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but in that moment, it was the sweetest sound Jungkook had ever heard, like the first notes of a song that stays with you long after it’s finished. His eyes held a warmth that contrasted with the storm raging around them, a light that flickered even through the rain’s harsh onslaught.

They worked in tandem after that, an unspoken understanding flowing between them like the rhythm of the rain. With each glance, each exchange of words, Jungkook felt a strange and powerful connection building—a thread weaving itself between their hearts with every shivering puppy they rescued. It was as though the universe had conspired to bring them together on this stormy night, two souls bound by the act of kindness in the midst of chaos.

The last puppy was the hardest to find, its small body hiding under a dumpster, shivering so fiercely it was barely audible over the storm’s roar. Taehyung’s frock clung to his skin, tracing the gentle curves of his chest, his body outlined in a way that made Jungkook’s pulse quicken. There was something about the boy—so fierce and yet so tender—that pulled at Jungkook, like a moth drawn to the flame of his quiet bravery.

When the final puppy was safely bundled, they hurried to the car, soaked to the bone but warm in the shared heat of their efforts. As they settled the puppies into the backseat, their eyes met once more, and Jungkook’s breath caught. There was something electric between them, a tension that hummed just beneath the surface, unspoken yet undeniable.

“What's your name?” Jungkook asked softly, his voice almost lost in the rain’s murmur.

“Kim Taehyung,” the boy replied, his voice like velvet in the storm. “But you can call me Tae.”

Jungkook smiled, warmth blooming in his chest like a fire igniting in the hearth on a cold night. “I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

The rain outside had become a mere whisper now, as if even the storm had quieted to witness the connection that sparked between them. Jungkook extended a hand, brushing his fingers against Taehyung’s arm. “Come on, Tae. You're soaked. Let me give you a ride home.”

Taehyung hesitated, just for a heartbeat, before nodding. The bond between them, fragile but growing, was as delicate as a spider's web glistening in the rain. He climbed into the warmth of the car, his body still shivering slightly from the cold, and Jungkook felt a fierce protectiveness rise within him. The way Taehyung’s soaked clothes clung to his body left little to the imagination, but it was his vulnerability that struck Jungkook the hardest.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” Taehyung whispered, his eyes fluttering closed as he leaned back in the seat. “I didn’t know what I would do if you hadn’t come along.”

Jungkook’s gaze lingered on him, heart full to the brim with affection. “Don’t mention it.” He chuckled softly, his voice a balm in the quiet car. “It was the least I could do.”

For a few moments, silence reigned, broken only by the soft whimpers of the puppies in the backseat and the fading rhythm of the rain. But the air between them was thick with unspoken words, their tension as palpable as the charged air before a storm.

Jungkook glanced over at Taehyung, his delicate profile bathed in the soft glow of the dashboard lights. His lashes, heavy with rain, rested against his cheeks like dark feathers, and Jungkook felt a stirring deep in his chest, a longing to reach out and touch, to feel the warmth of the boy beside him.

And then, as if sensing Jungkook’s thoughts, Taehyung’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Jungkook’s gaze. Time seemed to slow, the world outside fading into a blur of rain and shadow, leaving only the two of them, their gazes locked in a silent conversation.

Without a word, Jungkook reached across the small distance between them and took Taehyung’s hand. Their fingers intertwined naturally, as if they were two halves of the same whole, finally coming together.

“You're safe with me, Tae,” Jungkook whispered, his thumb gently tracing circles on Taehyung’s palm. “I’ll always be here to help you.”

Taehyung’s smile was soft, like sunlight breaking through the clouds after a long storm. “Thank you, Jungkook. You’re...like a knight in shining armor, only better. You don’t need armor.”

Jungkook laughed softly, the sound rich and warm, like the first crackle of a fire on a cold evening. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the heater and everything to do with the boy beside him.

The rest of the drive passed in a blur of quiet conversation, shared smiles, and the occasional brush of fingers. By the time they reached Taehyung’s home, the rain had all but stopped, leaving the world washed clean and new.

“Tae,” Jungkook began, hesitating only for a moment, “can I have your number?”

Taehyung’s smile, bright and full of promise, lit up the dim car. “Of course.”

As Jungkook punched the digits into his phone, he felt a thrill of excitement race through him. When he looked up, Taehyung was watching him, his gaze filled with something deep and unspoken.

“Call me,” Taehyung said softly, leaning just a little closer. “I’d like that.”

Their first kiss was gentle, a question asked in the soft press of lips, but the answer was immediate. It deepened naturally, their connection blooming like flowers after the rain. When they finally pulled apart, breathless and smiling, they knew that something beautiful had begun—a love story written in the rain and the quiet

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Hope this piece touches your heart and makes you believe in the magic of chance encounters.

As always, feel free to share your thoughts with me—I’d love to know how this story made you feel!

Until next time, my lovely Blossoms.

Check out My Patreon, if you are eager to read smut stories...

[wildernessuntothemselves]

A bad feeling about the place? What the fuck does that mean? It’s just a beach, what could possibly go wrong there?

Waiting for bro to pull the "My girlfriend died there" card here again like he did with the baby thing 😭

Still, you hesitate. You didn’t think that anything could go wrong by being friends with Taehyun either and that Beomgyu was being overly jealous and paranoid but here you are. Maybe if you go there you'll fucking drown or something crazy like that.

No girl he's afraid he's going to drown.. in something else..past memories

But you really wanted to visit that place. Maybe you should go when he's at work…

Yes yes yees yesss please go 😁

God, you hate hearing that false word fall out of his mouth. You're pretty sure Beomgyu has never been sorry for anything in his life.

Beomgyu is like a cat with more than nine lives, and I can assure you he has never felt sorry for anything he did. 

As I'm seeing OC roast him so badly in moments like these, I feel like there's some hope she won't be very tolerant of him once she finds out the truth, but I guess we'll see once I finish reading this chapter. I love the chapter so far 😭each detail is so perfect. Thank you for this, Mort ❤

"Gods?” You laugh. That’s new. “I'm your only god, baby.”

“Yeah… only you.”

THIS.

I really think that he does not even see the gods as what they are. He doesn't even care about their judgment as long as he has her. Like, it kind of feels like he only sees her as his god.

“No!” It feels strange defending something that a possibly fictional, possibly real version of you may have done because she's not you!--or is she? You didn’t leave him but you did. You don’t have to answer for her crimes but you feel compelled to try to anyway. “I thought I was saving you.”

But that just makes him angry, his fury so deep it couldn’t possibly have just been born today. It feels ancient, the edge of it sharpening over centuries. “Don't lie. That's not why you left.”

both of them are right but hate how none of them try to understand each other

“And the right choice is you?” You ask and he scoffs, looking affronted by the mere idea of there being a question about it. “It clearly isn't him. After all he's done to you. He imprisoned you. He raped you… He killed you.”

Very valid points were made here. As much as I want them to be together, I just can't see it happening logically. Maybe he can't either, that's why he says this in the fight next.

To your surprise, it is not Beomgyu but Taehyun who speaks up, his voice so uncharacteristically weak coming out of his almost crushed windpipe. “Let him kill me. Maybe then I'll be rid of you.”

The coldness in his voice freezes the air in your lungs, forming jagged icicles that tear you apart from the inside. 

“You've made a fool of me too many times before. I will not live out another life as a fool. Free me of you.”

This is the closest happy ending we could've gotten, so I'll just take it. 

This fight scene was so well constructed, I can really see the effort put into it.

I guess he finally made up his mind now; it's so fitting for his character. I love this.

He rolls his eyes, standing up and pulling you flush against his body. “He’ll live. Might take some time to recover, or better yet he’ll be dumber for it, but he’ll live just like you wanted. Now forget about him and just focus on me.” He grabs your chin and turns your gaze away from the unconscious Taehyun and towards his own face. “You have to hold up your end of the bargain now princess or you'll pay with his life.” 

That was so cruel, Gyu.

But I feel like he'll live, he has to. What else can an avoidant do?

It will take some time, but I hope he gets well from everything. ' This avoidant life is so lonely, man.

-👺

ohhh he should have. but he can't use the same cards too much

well if i continue after this ending she'd be visiting the old palace and if i do the tyun ending then she'd be going to the castle

unfortunately he gets her anyway. once again it's taehyun's life on the line that does her in.

gyu definitely does not give a shit about anything except oc. he hates the gods for separating her from him and he would literally kill them and bring the world to its knees if it meant he could keep her

yeah like oc did always consciously or unconsciously choose gyu but she also was very pressured into it even if tyun doesn't want to admit it

he won't move on from this unfortunately. he'll bring hell down on them for it.