p 🧟‍♀️

older!brother's bsf!rafe who pops by your house almost everyday and with different excuses. "hey, is topper here?" "forgot my keys" "needed to ask your mom somethin'", etc.

older!brother's bsf!rafe who, if you look close at every single family photo you've had together, from seven to now eighteen, he's constantly near you, by a one person distance max, and in the short occassion he's not, you can bet his eyes are on you.

older!brother's bsf!rafe who makes sure that there's food for you whenever you're around him. cookout? he's slipping half of his food onto your plate. dinner? you'll find that you have the most servings.

older!brother's bsf!rafe who's only had one girlfriend in the entire nine years you've known him. you remember when you were fourteen, sobbing your eyes out in your bed as top told you the news, only to find that they'd mysteriously broken up a week later.

older!brother's bsf!rafe who tells topper to go easy on you without you knowing. the pair will be hanging out, topper's feet up on the table while rafe scratches his arms.

"dude, she's been pissing me off so much."

"i'm sure you piss her off too."

"nah, not to the -"

"go easy on her."

older!brother's bsf!rafe who's given you flowers every valentine's, a tradition that started when you didn't get one that made you bawl your eyes out when you were much younger but just stuck. you who doesn't know that he gives them because he wants to, not because you think that topper's forcing him too.

older!brother's bsf!rafe who's always been the only option for you, he's just waiting patiently for you to see it.

© BITTERSWEETLYBLUE. do not copy, translate, edit my work then claim it as your own, attempt to plagarise or repost it on any other website nor feed into AI. you will be blocked.

topper and rafe were just walking out of the back kitchen doors of the country club after a kook dinner. they walked through the dark alleyway until topper spotted them.

after topper spoke up, pope stood up from the bumper. ready to leave and avoid any conflict. “alright, were leaving. c’mon, j.”

but as pope tried to walk past them, rafe steps directly—blocking the path with his massive frame. he tilts his head, a terrifying smile slowly spreading across his face.

“whoa, wait a second.” rafe grabs pope by the shoulders. he looks back at topper, “where are your manners, top? you dont just kick guests out.” rafe grins. “not when theyre enjoying our world-class hospitality.” he continued, glaring at jj and pope.

jj stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing at rafe. he already knows whats gonna happen. rafe takes a slow step forward. trapping both of them.

“so?” rafe crossed his heavy arms, looking down at the half empty beer can jj is holding on. “how is it? the imported stuff. tastes better than the swamp water you guys drank down at the cut, aint it?”

pope stays quiet. but he sure looks back at rafe in disgust. while jj cant keep his mouth shut.. “nice golf cart,” he looks back at it. “does it come with a pair of balls, or do you have to borrow your dad’s?”

rafe’s jaw clenched. face getting blank, but the smile doesnt leave him. his fist shoots out, hitting jj directly across the jaw. its sharp and fast. jj stumbles back, and holding his face.

“wrong answer, maybank.” rafe chides softly. head shaking in fake dissapointment. “lets try again. d’you know how much a membership costs here? take a guess.”

jj spits a wad of blood onto the asphalt, glaring back at rafe. pausing in between his breaths, “go to hell, rafe.” he lunges over, throwing a hook straight into rafe’s head.

the punch grazes rafe’s cheekbone, snapping his head to the side. rafe’s eyes go dark. before jj can swing again, rafe dodged. he punched straight into jj’s stomach.

jj folds, clutching his stomach while gasping for air. but he immediately smashed rafe’s nose, causing a little blood to spurt instantly. jj later tried to tackle rafe by the waist.

“hey, back off!” pope yelled, rushing in to pull rafe away from his friend. but topper was faster. he grabs pope by the collar of his jacket and slams him hard against a bricked wall. “stay out of it!” topper yells back.

jj threw elbows and kicked—but rafe is bigger and more aggressive. rafe grabs the front of his shirt, shoving jj backward.

jj’s body slammed hard into the side of the golf cart and down to the asphalt. jj pushed himself up on his elbows, clutching his ribs. he stares up at rafe.

jj lets out a breathless laugh “you got alot of anger for someone who pretends to be sweet around your bestfriend, rafe. does she know youre a fucking psycho? bet if she does, she wont let you get in her pants.”

the alleyway goes completely silent. topper flinches, knowing what his crazy friend will do. pope closes his eyes, knowing jj went too far.

“keep my girl out of your fucking mouth!” rafe roars.

he lunges forward, grabbing jj by throat and slamming him so hard against the asphalt. rafe doesnt fucking care. he could just kill him right now. rafe punched jj three times, his gold ring slices jj’s eyebrow open.

pope breaks away from topper and tackles rafe from the side. only for pope to get another punch by rafe in the jaw.

topper grabbed rafe’s forearms and shoulders to stop him. “dude, stop! youre gonna kill him! if the cops come—”

rafe firmly shrugged him off. but he stopped punching jj. rafe shot a warning look to topper. then, he gets up and goes back inside his truck, slamming the door shut.

his chest heaving. breath getting ragged. the adrenaline’s still there. rafe holds his nose to prevent from bleeding further after jj’s punch. his knuckles hurt from bruising. fuck, he needed an escape. anything. to make him calm down.

he searched for coke in his truck. his movements getting sloppy. “no no no, where is it?!” he remembers well last week he snorts some and getting high inside his own truck.

shit. he forgot ward had caught them. his dad threw the cokes away and threatened him to stay out of it. called him a dissapointment.

he cant help, a frustrated sob escapes him first. tears of anger and exhaustion wetting his face. theres nothing he could do to make him relax again.

until then, rafe remembers something.

you. his bestfriend girl.

he remembers exactly your soft hands were. he remembers how you always try to take care of him when he complains about a headache. and how gentle your hands were running through his hair.

you were so sweet and grounding. why didnt he think of you earlier? you were better than any coke he had snorted anyway.

hes thinking about coming over to your place. but its midnight already. are you asleep yet?

rafe reached for his phone, opening your contact to text you. he found something. yours and his texts from today, hours ago from this noon:

“imma watch ‘about time’ tonight! :) guess ill stay up late haha. have you watched itt??” and he replied exactly: “stay up late? really? you should sleep. and no, not interested.” he forgot.

thats it. hes gonna come over now.

your eyes stayed focus on the tv screen infront, mind absorbing in the movie youre watching. body laying relax on bed. you were so peaceful in your brand new pajamas that rafe bought days ago.

until, you heard a heavy tapping on your second story window. you paused the movie, leaving your bed and pulling the curtains up. a gasp left your mouth. rafe, his nose bleeding, cheekbone bruised and hair messy. hes clinging to the trellis with his broad shoulders hunched.

he wasnt the rafe you usually see. he doesnt look like a cocky kook prince.

you immediately unlock the window, pushing it open. “ray?! oh my god, what happened?” rafe gets inside your room and sat on the carpet.

well.. lying a little wouldnt cause any problems, right? this might be the perfect time. hell, theres no way hes gonna tell you that he almost killed the pogues. not when youre so sweet and looks at him like a god. he couldnt imagine if one day, you looked at him as the way everyone does.

“dont.” his voice is broken. he looks up at you, eyes red and glassy with tears. “just dont look at me now, please..”

“your nose..” you moved closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “who did this to you, ray? you can tell me everything.”

rafe lets out a pathetic exhale. “it was ward.” he lies admits. “he screamed at me, telling me that im a dissapointment and ruining the family name. i didnt see it coming, he just suddenly swung.” voice cracking, his fingers wiping his tears.

“he told me he wishes sarah was his only kid. its always sarah. and im just a liability he has to pay for.” he drags a palm across his tear filled eyes.

your heart sank listening to his story. “thats horrible. im so sorry, ray. c’mere.” you pulled him closer, giving him a warm tight hug. fingers gently running through his hair and you rub his wide back to soothe him.

over your shoulder, rafe’s fake tears and expression faded. a sinister smile coming through. he hit the jackpot. he could just beat the pogues until they die and still get some comfort from you.

“hes wrong, ray. dont listen to him. ward is miserable and he takes everything out to you. youre not a liability.” you pulled away from him, he quickly changed his expression again. you put a hand over his left cheek, wiping his tear. and then you both go silent for a moment.

he needs to stay here. and sleep with you. he misses you.

his blue eyes watch your face intently. “you look beautiful. go have fun.” he said softly, trying to stand up. “ill just.. ill probably go back home. if my dad starts up again, dont worry.” hes pity baiting hoping you could let him crash here.

your eyes going wide in panic. before he could walk away, you grab his wrist. “n-no. dont go back there. you can stay here for the night.”

“here, sit.” you stood up and bring him closer to your bed. he sits in the middle of it. with you on the edge of the bed. you stare at each other, making a long eye contact. he kept watching you with his half lidded gaze.

you clear your throat, feeling awkward under his gaze. “your nose, ill take care of it. wait here.” you rushed out of your bedroom, looking for some ice and a thin towel. after a minute passed, youre back inside.

you slowly get on the bed. moving closer to his spread thighs, pushing yourself down. rafe let out a grunt. he couldnt bear the feeling of your soft ass pressing against his thighs. or that your warm pussy is sitting right on top of his throbbing dick, just fabrics separating you. he wishes he could just dry hump you right there until youre soaked.

since you sit on his lap, his face is met with the sight of your tits. without any shame or awkwardness, he pressed his face right into your tits. feeling how warm your body is. fuck, did your tits get bigger? uh, maybe not, his mind is hazing over.

you giggle against him, patting the top of his head. “ray, youre so clingy.” not even thinking anything dirty about it, hes just your rafe. you bring the towel-wrapped ice pack closer to him.

“look at me.” you whisper softly. he stops nuzzling his face, looking right up to you. youve never been this close to him. and you cant help but to secretly admire his handsome features.

you pressed the cold towel gently to his swelling nose. but your hands shaking slightly, dont know why. you carefully wipe the smeared blood off his top lip.

rafe looks up at you and down lazily. “youre shaking.” another cocky smirk escapes him. this jerk. hes literally in pain and got the audacity to be annoying!

“n-no, im just mad at him for hurting you this bad.” you lie. well, not really cause youre actually upset with ward. “yeah?” he replied back. you only have one weakness. holding a long eye contact with rafe cameron. hes your bestfriend, yeah, but.. still! hes so intense. his gaze wont even look away from you now.

“you wearin’ the pajama i bought, huh?” a small smile escapes him. you smile back softly while holding the towel against his nose. “its.. comfy.”

you swear to god, you feel his big hands dropping down slowly from the sides of your waist to your ass.

he just taps the cheeks of your ass with both of his hands, humming slightly. you feel your face burning.

and just then, he admits something in between the silence. “i miss you.”

you stare back at him with a raised eyebrow, chuckling. “rafe, we just met yesterday. its only been a day.”

his thick fingers slowly cupping the fat of your ass. he didnt hesitate to grind his fat cock against you, seeking the warm feeling between your legs. “i know. i still miss you.”

you bit a lip to supress a moan. and youre also still focusing on his broken nose. you cant say anything. because if you do, you dont wanna be the person that oversexualize everything or being a pervert in the room.

but rafe watched you. he knows your body language well. he slowly grinds his clothed dick again, back and forth. his fingers are almost squeezing your ass now. “you dont miss me?” he tilts his head, trying to tease and get a reaction out of you. he loves how youre trying to act normal.

“i.. miss you too.” you spoke back. you dont even look at his eyes, gaze focusing on his broken nose. feeling your body stiff. and god, you never realized youre that small compared to his frame.

you hate to admit that youre slightly wet.

but desperately trying to change the convo, you stopped pressing the cold towel against his nose. getting up from his lap. “your shirt’s dirty. ill go check if my dad have some for you to borrow.” you smile awkwardly before leaving your bedroom.

the second you leave, rafe smirks. he didnt give a shit about the pain. he only cared that you were actually affected and trying to fetch him clothes like a perfect trained doll. he had beaten up the pogues, weaponize his trauma, and crossed your boundaries without you even protesting.

he knew with terrifying certainty, that he owned you.

The castle has never been quiet on your name day.

From the moment the sun rises over Blackwater Bay the Red Keep hums with the kind of life that belongs only to celebrations.

Servants weave through its corridors, balancing polished silver and bolts of embroidered silk, cooks bark orders from kitchens already thick with the scent of roasting meats and sweet pastries, and somewhere below your window a quartet of musicians have spent the better part of an hour arguing over the same melody.

The sound drifts through the open casement in uneven bursts, carried on the warm summer breeze before it dissolves into the cries of gulls circling the harbour.

It is all for you.

Eighteen.

The number sits strangely in your mind. Lords who once ruffled your hair now bow a fraction lower. Ladies who used to coo at you now ask after your gowns and favourite jewels. Every smile feels just a little too measured, every compliment just a little too deliberate.

But you don't care, because all you're thinking about is Jacaerys.

And he is late.

Well, not truly. The sun has scarcely reached its highest point and no one expected him before midday, but that does little to quiet the restless anticipation thrumming beneath your skin.

It has been nearly two years.

At first the months passed quickly enough. Letters arrived regularly, each bearing your eldest brother's unmistakably careful hand, filled with dutiful accounts of the Riverlands, the Vale, or White Harbour. Tucked inside each letter had been some little trinket that reminded him of you; polished amber gathered along the eastern coast, a tiny wolf carved from pale weirwood by a Northern craftsman, a silver hairpin so delicately wrought that you had been terrified of wearing it the first time.

The gifts had never mattered.

You would have traded every last one simply to hear him laugh across the training yard again.

"Still waiting?"

The familiar voice draws your attention from the road.

Your mother stands a few paces behind you, sunlight catching in the silver-gold of her hair until it almost seems to glow. "I am merely enjoying the view," you reply, with all the dignity you can manage.

Rhaenyra arches a brow. "The view of the Kingsroad?"

"It is a very fine road."

She laughs then, the sound soft and knowing. "You have been watching that very fine road since dawn."

You sigh dramatically, resting your chin upon folded arms. "He promised."

"And Jacaerys has never broken a promise to you."

"No," you admit, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "He has not."

Then, finally, a horn sounds somewhere below.

The guards upon the gatehouse shift, peering out across the road before one suddenly straightens.

"Dragon!"

Every head upon the walls turns skyward.

Your heart leaps into your throat before your eyes have even found him.

Vermax appears, cutting through brilliant blue with powerful, measured strokes of emerald wings. Sunlight catches across his scales, throwing flashes of bronze and green over the city below as he wheels above the Red Keep. He is larger than you remember.

So is the rider upon his back.

"Gods be good," Rhaenyra murmurs behind you, though there is laughter in her voice already. You are halfway down the nearest staircase before she can finish the sentence.

The courtyard erupts into motion as Vermax settles with a thunderous beat of wings, servants scattering instinctively while guards struggle to look composed in the face of a dragon. Dust billows across the flagstones, catching in your skirts as you weave between startled courtiers, heedless of the calls following after you.

Jace has barely swung one leg over the saddle when he hears his name, he turns just in time to see a blur of deep crimson silk racing across the courtyard.

You collide with him hard enough to force him back a step.

The laugh leaves him before he can stop it.

Strong hands find your waist out of pure instinct, lifting you clean from the ground as though no time has passed at all, as though you are still the little girl forever launching yourself at him from staircases and behind pillars in hopes of catching him unaware.

Your feet dangle a good foot above the flagstones, your arms looped comfortably around his shoulders.

"You'll knock me over one day," he says, laughter still colouring every word.

Up close he looks older. The softness that once lingered around his face has sharpened into something unmistakably princely, the line of his jaw more defined beneath the dust of travel, his hair longer than before where the sea wind has escaped the leather tie at the nape of his neck.

He lowers you carefully back onto your feet.

Both hands rise to cradle your face with easy affection, his thumbs brushing absent-mindedly against your cheeks.

His expression softens. "You've grown."

"So have you."

A quiet laugh escapes him.

"I should hope so."

Before you can answer, he bends to press a familiar kiss against your forehead. You simply grin and lean briefly into the touch before stepping back, and he slings an arm around your shoulders, leading you back inside.

Neither of you notices Prince Daemon watching from the gallery above, and neither of you notices the faintest curve beginning at the corner of his mouth.

By the time the sun has slipped beneath the horizon the Great Hall glows beneath a hundred candles.

Music spills from the gallery above in soft, lilting melodies. Gold catches in polished plates, jewelled collars and the circlets worn by lords who have travelled from every corner of the realm to honour the queen's youngest daughter.

Jace has attended more feasts than he can remember.

They have blurred together over the years into a procession of banners and vows, polite smiles and carefully chosen words, each hall distinguished only by the sigil hanging above the high table.

Tonight should be no different.

Instead, he finds himself searching for you before he has even crossed the threshold.

You stand near the queen's chair while one of the ladies fusses with the sleeve of your gown, silver thread shimmering against deep burgundy velvet. Your hair has been left half unbound, pale waves falling over your shoulders in the old Valyrian fashion, catching the candlelight each time you laugh at something Baela says beside you.

You have always laughed with your whole face. That, at least, has not changed.

The feast begins in earnest soon after.

Your mother rises to speak, her words carrying easily across the hall as she welcomes those who have come to celebrate your name day. You sit at her right hand, smiling with the restrained grace expected of a princess, though every now and then your attention wanders, your eyes finding Jace somewhere further down the table.

Each time they do, you smile exactly as you always have.

Lord Rowan's youngest son cannot be much older than five-and-twenty.

Jace remembers meeting him briefly in the Reach; a courteous enough man with an easy smile and an unfortunate tendency to speak longer than necessary. Now he watches as the knight bows over your hand with every appearance of propriety, offering some finely wrapped gift that earns a laugh from you.

You thank him warmly.

The young lord moves away eventually, replaced almost immediately by another.

Then another.

A Lannister cousin. The heir to a minor Crownlands house. A knight from Driftmark whose name escapes him entirely.

Each offers congratulations and smiles, looking at you with unmistakable admiration. It is perfectly reasonable, you are a princess. after all, one who has just turned eighteen.

You are also beautiful, a treacherous corner of Jace's mind supplies.

"They are circling already." Rhaena speaks softly across the table, amusement dancing in her eyes as she follows his line of sight.

Jace frowns. "What do you mean?"

"The suitors." He says nothing. "The realm has been waiting for this birthday almost as eagerly as she has."

In that moment, Jace understands has been absent too long, and the little girl forever racing after him through the corridors of Dragonstone no longer exists outside his memory.

The woman seated at the queen's right hand does.

Some distant part of him, the dutiful prince who has spent years weighing every decision against the good of the realm, should perhaps be appalled by what has just taken root in his mind.

Instead, he is struck only by how little it surprises him.

'If a husband is to stand beside you one day... why should it be anyone but me?'

The feast dwindles by degrees.

One by one the visiting lords excuse themselves. The Great Hall grows quieter with every passing hour until only family and the queen's closest councillors remain, lingering more from habit than obligation.

Jace has scarcely taken three steps beyond the hall when Ser Lorent inclines his head.

"The Queen requests your presence, my prince."

The solar is warm despite the hour, lit by a scattering of candles that throw long shadows across maps and parchment left strewn over the great table. His mother stands beside the open window overlooking the bay, one hand resting against the carved stone.

Daemon lounges opposite her with infuriating ease, a goblet balanced loosely between his fingers.

Neither appears surprised to see him.

"You wished to see me?"

"I did." She gestures for him to come closer. "We were discussing your sister."

"Has something happened?"

"No," Daemon answers before Rhaenyra can speak. "Nothing has happened."

"Yet," Rhaenyra mutters.

Daemon ignores her. "Your sister is eighteen."

"I am aware."

"A great many others are as well."

Jace says nothing.

"The feast made that abundantly clear. It also made clear it is time we considered suitable matches."

Jace nods once. Rhaenyra watches him closely. "So," she says gently, "what would you advise?"

"My advice?"

"You have travelled more of the realm than either of us these past years. You know its young heirs better than most."

Jace considers it carefully, because that is what is expected of him, because he has spent his whole life learning how to answer as the heir before he ever remembers how to answer as himself.

"There are worthy men," he finally scrapes out. Rhaenyra gives a small nod as though she had expected nothing less.

Jace continues, "The son of House Rowan conducted himself well in the Reach. The Redwynes would strengthen our position in the south. The Celtigars remain loyal."

At that, Daemon exhales through his nose with open disdain, swirling the wine lazily around his cup.

“Boring.”

Jace turns to him, frowning. “Excuse me?”

“You are answering as the heir,” Daemon says, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world. “I am asking the man.”

He looks between his mother and Daemon, trying to decide whether he has missed some crucial piece of context, and finds only that strange, infuriating look on Daemon’s face.

“What exactly are you asking me?” Jace says at last.

Daemon studies him for a long moment. "Which of those boys would you choose for her?"

Jace exhales quietly. "I could not say."

"You have met most of them."

"I know them as lords."

Daemon leans back. "But not well enough to know which one deserves to share her bed."

The words strike the room like a thrown dagger. Rhaenyra closes her eyes for a brief, pained moment, as though she can already feel the shape of the disaster coming and would very much like to stop it before it begins.

“Daemon...”

“What?” he asks mildly, with all the innocence of a man who has never once been innocent in his life. “The point of a political match is to produce heirs, and that is generally how marriages produce heirs.”

Jace says nothing.

Daemon watches him for another long moment, “I do not believe you could bear it,” he says at last.

The silence deepens.

“I beg your pardon?” Jace manages, barely.

“I do not believe,” Daemon repeats, his voice calm and level, “that you could bear another man laying hands upon her.”

Rhaenyra straightens at once. “Daemon.”

“I do not believe you could bear another man kissing her.”

“Enough.”

“I do not believe you could bear watching her swell with another man’s children.”

Jace feels the blood drain from his face, every muscle in him going rigid as if he has been struck.

“And I certainly do not believe,” he continues, his tone infuriatingly calm, “that you could stomach another man teaching her what it is to be loved.”

“Daemon.”

Rhaenyra’s voice is sharper now, edged with warning, but the prince merely lifts one hand in a gesture that is almost dismissive, never once taking his eyes from Jace.

“Am I wrong?”

Jace opens his mouth but nothing comes. Because the horror of it is not that Daemon has imagined such things, it is that Jace has.

Daemon’s mouth curves, just slightly.

“I...” Jace begins, and then abandons the sentence entirely, because there is no sentence that can save him now.

“You love her.”

It is not a question.

“You are so thoroughly, catastrophically in love with her that you have spent an entire evening glaring at boys who merely smiled in her general direction.”

Finally Rhaenyra rounds on him. “You cannot simply accuse our son of being in love with his sister.”

Jace would gladly vanish into the stone floor if the gods would be so merciful. Instead he stands rooted where he is while the two most formidable people in the realm discuss him as though he were not present.

“He is miserable,” Daemon says, finally turning his head to look at her. “Because half the realm has suddenly decided my daughter is fit to wed.”

Rhaenyra folds her arms more tightly. “And that does not concern you?”

“Of course it concerns me, hence why we are having this conversation.”

She stares at him in open disbelief. “You cannot seriously believe this is the best solution.”

Daemon raises an eyebrow. “Find me a better man.”

“The point is not whether he is a good man.”

“No?”

He waits. She opens her mouth, clearly intending to explain, and then stops, because whatever argument she had prepared has already begun to collapse under the weight of its own hypocrisy.

“You married your uncle.”

Rhaenyra points a finger at him. “That is entirely beside the point.”

Jace, who has thus far wished for nothing more than escape, finally exhales, very quietly, and when both of them turn to him he feels the full weight of their attention settle over him.

“With respect, Mother...” he says, and both of them look at him with identical expressions of wary expectation. He swallows, then presses on before he can lose his nerve. “...he does have you there.”

Rhaenyra blinks. “You are taking his side?”

“I am merely observing...” The faintest smile threatens despite himself, because if he does not laugh he may very well scream. “...that you did, in fact, marry your uncle.”

The silence that follows is brief, but heavy in a way that feels almost ceremonial, as though something unseen has just shifted its weight in the room and no one is yet willing to acknowledge it.

Rhaenyra is the first to recover.

“This is not something decided in a solar with three people and a bottle of wine.”

Jace shifts slightly where he stands, still trying to understand how he has become the subject of something that feels suspiciously like a verdict. “Mother,” he begins cautiously, “if this is about-”

“It is about nothing yet,” Rhaenyra cuts in quickly, sharper than intended, then exhales and forces her tone back down. “It is about considering what is best for her future.”

Daemon makes a quiet sound of amusement, leaning back in his chair as if the entire matter has already concluded and he is simply waiting for the rest of them to catch up.

“Then consider it done. I am her father and I have found a match for her.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze snaps to him. “Excuse me?”

“You asked for a good man,” Daemon says, as though repeating something painfully obvious.

“You cannot simply decide this,” Rhaenyra says, though even she sounds less certain than before.

“I can,” Daemon replies. “And I have.”

A beat.

Then, almost lazily, he adds, “Unless you intend to send her to some Reachling with soft hands and softer loyalties.”

Rhaenyra’s expression hardens. “Do not reduce this to-”

“To what?” Daemon interrupts, finally straightening in his chair. The amusement in him sharpens now, not into anger, but something more focused. “Politics? That is what you are trying to do. I am simply being honest about it. She is our daughter, Rhaenyra.”

Silence again.

He walks a few steps toward the window, looking out over the Blackwater as if the conversation has already moved past him.

“She stays within the family,” he says casually, almost conversationally, as though discussing ship routes. “She stays where she is known. Where she is protected. Where she is not bartered to men who would mistake her for an opportunity.”

Jace clears his throat once.

“If I may-”

“No,” both of them say at once.

He stops.

Daemon turns slightly, looking at him now with something like faint approval.

“You will marry her,” he says simply.

Jace looks at him with wide eyes, “Are you being serious?”

Rhaenyra closes her eyes again, slower this time, as though bracing for impact.

“I refuse to send my daughter away,” Daemon states. His gaze shifts briefly to Jace, sharp and unblinking.

The room goes still.

Jace should object. He should say something about choice, about propriety, about the absurdity of making such decisions in this manner.

“She does not even know we are having this conversation.”

Daemon’s smile returns, slow and infuriatingly certain.

“No,” he agrees. “She does not. And you will tell her, Jacaerys. Better you than either of us."

“And if she refuses?”

“She won't.”

Vermax takes to the sky just after dawn, when the castle is still half-swallowed in morning mist and the water below reflects a pale gold.

The world feels quieter from above, stretched thin and distant, as though all the noise of court and council has been left behind somewhere on the stone below.

You do not question it when Jace comes for you. You never have.

He arrives without ceremony in the inner courtyard where the dragonkeepers have already prepared Vermax for flight.

“You want to go flying?” He asks simply, as if it is an ordinary thing to offer a princess on the morning after her name day feast.

Your smile comes easily. “I always want to go flying.”

That earns the faintest curve of his mouth. He helps you mount with practised ease, hands steady at your waist as you swing your leg over Vermax’s neck.

Then he climbs up behind you.

The moment he settles into place, the world shifts; you can't help but be aware of the warmth at your back, the solid presence of him there, closer than anyone else has ever been permitted to be in this way. One arm reaches around you instinctively to secure the reins while the other steadies you at your side, palm firm against your ribs.

“You are sitting differently,” you note, turning your head slightly to glance at him.

His expression is unreadable for a moment, then softens. “Am I?”

“Yes.”

Here, there is nothing between you but wind and sky and the steady rise and fall of Vermax’s wings beneath you.

He gives the command, and Vermax launches forward.

The world slowly drops away.

Wind tears at your hair, pulling laughter from your chest without permission, and you lean instinctively into Jace’s grip as Vermax climbs higher, circling the coast before cutting out over open water.

His arm tightens around you without hesitation.

Somewhere behind you, you feel rather than see him adjust his hold, pulling you slightly closer against him as the wind sharpens at altitude. It is automatic, the same instinct that has always placed him between you and anything that might hurt you.

You tilt your head back slightly, just enough to speak over the rush of air. “I like it when you come home,” you admit, without thinking much of it. “Everything feels louder when you are not here.”

You do not see the way his eyes linger on you again. The way they soften in a manner that has nothing to do with duty.

You are laughing at something Vermax does mid-turn when he speaks.

“I am not leaving again.”

The words take a moment to settle. You glance over your shoulder slightly, confused. “What do you mean?”

There is a pause so brief you almost miss it. “They have decided something.”

That makes you laugh lightly. “Have they?”

“Yes.” The tone is careful now, though still steady.

You frown slightly. “What sort of something?” The wind howls.

“You are to be married.”

For a moment, there is only the feel of him behind you, the steady beat of Vermax’s wings, and the distant horizon that suddenly feels much further away than it did a moment ago.

You blink. “...What do you mean?”

“It has been agreed,” he says more softly. “Between our mother and Daemon.”

Your grip on the reins tightens slightly, though Vermax does not react. “Oh,” you say slowly, as if testing the shape of the word. “That is… sudden.”

“It is.”

You turn your head further now, trying to see his face properly, though the angle is awkward with the wind pulling at you. “And who-”

You stop. Because when his jaw tightens you realise you already know.

“Jace,” you say carefully. He doesn't answer, just stares ahead. "Jace. Are we to be married?"

"...Yes."

You turn fully now as much as the space allows, looking at him properly for the first time.

“You are very composed about this,” you say, attempting levity and failing to find it entirely.

His mouth twitches, almost a smile. “I had some time to think.”

The wind pulls at you again, but he shifts without thinking, bringing you closer still until there is barely any space between you at all. You are suddenly acutely aware of it; of the way his arm anchors you, of the warmth at your back, of the steady, unyielding presence of him in a place where there is nothing else to hold onto.

You swallow. “And what do you think?” you ask.

He finally looks at you. “That I would not allow anyone else to do this,” he says quietly.

Something in your chest tightens. “Do what?”

“I would never allow anyone else to stand where I stand.”

Vermax banks sharply beneath you; it sends you forward, straight into him. His arm tightens instantly, catching you before you can even think to steady yourself, and for a moment you are completely held there against him, suspended between sky and breath.

You search his face for something. Uncertainty? Jest? Anything that might soften what he has just said into something easier to carry. You find none.

Your hand rises without thinking, resting lightly against the side of his face. His breath catches, not sharply, but enough.

“Jace,” you say, and his name feels different in your mouth now. He does not answer.

For a heartbeat, there is nothing but the rush of wind and the distant cry of the sea far below.

Then he is kissing you.

Not like something uncertain or newly discovered, but like something that has finally been allowed to exist.

His hand tightens at your waist, suddenly far too close in a way neither of you can undo.

You make a small sound against his mouth, half surprise, half something you don’t yet have a name for, and it seems to undo whatever careful restraint he has been holding onto.

The arm around you shifts, pulling you back against him with a controlled urgency that sends your breath catching, your fingers instinctively curling into the front of his riding leathers as if that alone can keep you anchored.

Vermax turns beneath you and the world tilts, but Jace does not let you fall.

When you finally break just enough to breathe, it is only by a fraction, your forehead still close to his, your breath mingling with his in the cold air.

You look at him then, properly, and something in your expression seems to undo him more than the kiss itself ever could.

“This is…” you start, but the words fail you.

His thumb brushes lightly against your side where he still holds you.

“I know,” he says quietly.

The wind tears past again, colder now against your flushed skin, and you should pull away, should think, should question, should make sense of any of this.

You don't.

Instead he leans in again, lips claiming yours with a hunger that has been building since the moment he returned days ago. His mouth hot and insistent against your own.

The kiss deepens instantly, his tongue slides against the seam of your lips before you part them, letting him set the pace, and the one sets is perfect, a desperate rhythm that sends sparks racing through you.

Your fingers tangle in his dark curls, pulling him closer as his hands roam your body with possessive certainty, one sliding up to cup your breast through the thin fabric of your riding leathers while the other grips your hip, anchoring you against him on Vermax's broad back.

The dragon soars higher, the sea a glittering expanse far below, but all you can feel is the hard press of Jace's body.

You moan into the kiss, the sound swallowed by the rushing air and the steady beat of wings, as Jace shifts you effortlessly onto his lap, your legs straddling his.

His tongue delves deeper, exploring every inch of your mouth with an intensity that makes warmth gather in your belly, wetness already soaking your undergarments.

"You know," he breathes against your lips, his voice rough, "you're mine now. Always have been."

You let him move you as he pleases, but soon you can feel the way his cock strains against his breeches, thick and insistent against your thigh.

"Are you alright?"

You can only nod shakily, letting your head find the hollow of his shoulder.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Jace."

His hand slips between your bodies, fingers deftly undoing laces to find your slick folds, stroking you slow and gathering your wetness on his fingers.

Then he reaches to free himself, hot and heavy as you wrap your fingers around him. He covers your hand with his own, guiding your hand to stroke him slowly.

"We should probably stop." he grits out.

You whine in response, "No, Jace please. I don't want to stop."

Jace lifts you higher, positioning the head of his cock at your entrance.

"You tell me if that changes, okay."

"Yes."

"Promise me." He tilts your head towards him, holding your eyes with his own.

"I promise." With that he thrusts upward in one smooth motion, burying himself deep inside you with a groan that vibrates through his chest into yours.

The fullness stretches you perfectly, every ridge and vein of him dragging against your inner walls as he begins to move.

"Gods you're tight." He grunts, his hands gripping to guide your hips in a grinding rhythm that matches the dragon's powerful wingbeats.

Pleasure coils tight in your core, building with each thrust, the wind caressing your exposed skin where leathers have been shoved aside, breasts pressed to his chest, nipples hard from the chill and his touch.

His mouth finds yours again, the kiss messy and passionate, tongues tangling as he fucks into you over and over.

You can feel it — his claim, his love, his protection — in every thrust.

He feels you start to tighten around him, one hand fisting your hair to make you look at him. His eyes are wild, hair messed by wind and jaw clenched to tight its a wonder its not cracked.

"Not yet my love. Hold on for me."

"I cannot, Jace." You gasp, hand flying to his shoulder in desperation.

"Yes, you can." He coos, pulling your face up to meet his in another kiss, this one softer, coaxing you to match him as his thrusts grew harsher, rougher.

Only then does his hand move from your hair, snaking down to find where your bodies are joined. He rubs tight, deliberate circles that have you arching into him.

"Jace, please, it's too much."

"Okay, you can come now."

You do, raw ecstasy filling your body as you shatter around him, crying out his name into the endless sky.

Your eyes shut, body going completely slack against his for the trembling that claims you. Your legs are shaking where they're slotted around his hips.

"Good girl, just like that. Let me take care of you." He says as his thrusts get harder, his hands now assisting to pull you down to meet them.

Then, his pace grows erratic, and you can feel his breathing is more laboured as it hits your temple.

With one final thrust he goes rigid, following you over the edge, pulsing hot and deep within you. His arms wrap around you, the world reduced to the two of you and the endless blue above the waves.

Jace is the first to move.

It is small at first, almost hesitant, as if he is afraid that shifting even slightly might undo something irreparable.

His hand, which had been steady at your waist only moments ago, loosens just enough for him to adjust you more carefully against him, pulling off his cloak and draping it around your shoulders with a gentleness that feels entirely at odds with the fact that you are both still several thousand feet and he's still inside you.

“You’re cold,” he says, though it sounds more like something he needs to believe than something he has observed.

“I’m fine,” you reply automatically.

He doesn’t look reassured.

Instead, he shifts again, this time lifting you off him with a hiss and placing you in front of him on the saddle again.

“You didn’t have to-” he starts.

You tilt your head slightly. “Have to what?”

The words seem to catch somewhere behind his teeth, like everything he might say is either too much or not enough.

“Do that,” he settles on finally, quieter now. “Like that.”

You blink at him, trying to follow. “Jace.”

His jaw tightens slightly at the sound of his name, but he doesn’t look away.

“It should not have been like that,” he says, and there is something carefully restrained in his voice now, something that feels like it has been pushed down hard. “Your first time should have been-” He exhales through his nose, frustrated with himself more than anything else. “Well, for starters, not in the sky.”

For a moment, you just stare at him. “You think I am going to complain because it was in the sky?”

“I am serious,” he says.

“I know you are,” you reply, smiling faintly. “That’s the problem.”

He blinks once.

You shift slightly in his arms so you can see his face more clearly, even as Vermax continues his smooth, unbothered flight beneath you both.

“I do not need it to be… whatever you are imagining it should have been,” you continue, voice softening now, grounding into something steadier. “I did not think about it being in a bed or a room or anywhere else."

"You must've had some fantasy, something you hoped for or wanted from it." He presses, seemingly not content with your reassurance.

"Jacaerys, I wanted it to be you.”

That quiets him completely.

“That is not-” he starts. “It is,” you interrupt gently.

A pause.

Then, quieter, almost teasing now that you have his full attention again, “Besides, I think I will remember this more than if it had been in a bed.”

Something like a reluctant sound leaves him, half laugh and half exhale, and the tension in his shoulders eases just a fraction.

“You are certain?” he asks after a moment.

"Of course."

IYou lean back into him properly, letting the wind rush past as Vermax carries you both forward, the world still impossibly wide beneath you and forever changed.

authors note: currently in the middle of reworking this fic, i made it last year and want to make it look and sound better!

the city always felt quieter in the fall.

not quieter in the way people meant when they talked about small towns and empty streets—there were still sirens, still buses sighing at the corners, someone arguing outside the corner store at two in the morning. but the air turned colder, and the smell of rain clung to the sidewalks, and everyone seemed to move a little slower.

from your apartment window, the streetlights painted everything gold. you liked nights like this. a bowl of ramen, a blanket over your shoulders, and the hum of the city outside like distant ocean waves.

living alone had never scared you. but sometimes, when headlights crawled down the block and shadows stretched along the buildings, you wondered about the lives passing below your window.

that was before you knew one of them.

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

he’d been on your block a dozen times before you ever noticed him. most nights, he parked halfway down the street, engine running low, music barely audible through the cracked, tinted out window. people came and went quickly—two minutes, maybe three—and then the door shut again. he was efficient, quiet and forgettable. which was exactly how he liked it.

the first time you noticed him, though, it wasn’t because you were looking. It was because your phone buzzed in your hand. and suddenly, he had a reason to notice you too.

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

your closest friend from university sent a number with no context. Just a text that said: athea: if you ever need anything, hit him up.

followed by a number. It sat in your phone for a week before you texted it.

your apartment was warm in that soft, lamp-lit way you liked—no overhead lights, just the golden glow of multiple lamps and the faint hum of the radiator near the window. outside, the street was damp from rain, the pavement shining under the flickering streetlight.

you didn’t usually do things like this. but living alone in a neighborhood like yours meant you learned quickly that sometimes the easiest way to get something was simply to ask.

so you texted the number.

you: hi. i got your number from athea.

you checked your reflection in your mirror. a little eyeliner. lip gloss you dug out of the bottom of your tote bag. your favorite jacket—oversized and soft from years of wear. it made you feel a little more put together in your life filled with homework, work, and the chaos of the city.

your phone buzzed in your hand.

unknown: you by 4th?

you blinked. that was fast.

you: yeah. the building above the laundromat.

after a few texts, minutes passed before headlights turned slowly onto your street. a black car, no plates, low and quiet. windows so dark you couldn’t see a thing inside. it rolled to a stop near the curb like it had done it a hundred times before.

for a second you wondered if you should’ve just stayed upstairs. maybe you shouldn't have sent the text. then, the driver’s door opened.

he stepped out like the biting cold didn’t bother him.

he was tall. taller than you expected, broad shoulders trapped in a dark hoodie, hands in the pockets of baggy jeans that were slightly sagging. his sleeves were slightly rolled up revealing a peaking sleeve of thick ink. his movements were slow, unhurried, like the whole city had all the time in the world.

he leaned casually against the car door and looked up at the building, right at you.

your heart skipped before you grabbed your keys and hurried down the narrow stairwell, the smell of detergent and concrete filling the hallway. by the time you pushed open the front door, the night air was sharp against your cheeks.

he was still there, watching you. up close, he was even taller. his fluffy, dark hair spilling out of his hood, the tattoos on his arms creeping up to his neck. and most of all, his face. jawline sharp and features slender. plush lips tugged into a straight line. eyes low and tinted with red. he was fine.

for a moment neither of you spoke. then he tilted his head slightly. “you text me?” his voice came low and calm.

you nodded. “yeah.”

he studied you for a second longer than necessary, like he was quietly trying to figure something out. he gave the smallest nod toward you. “you y/n?”

you blinked. “…yeah.”

a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, almost like he found something amusing. “thought so.”

you shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket, suddenly aware of the cold. “you’re taehyung?”

“depends who’s asking.”

you laughed softly before you could stop yourself. his eyes flicked to your face when you did. something about that seemed to surprise him. most people didn’t laugh around him.

he reached into his dark car and grabbed a small bag, holding it out to you. you stepped closer to take it, and for a brief second your fingers brushed. his hand was warm.

you looked up without meaning to, but he was already watching you.“you live here?” he asked casually, glancing toward the building.

“yeah. just a studio.”

he nodded slowly, like he’d expected that answer. “nice.”

you almost laughed again. nice was not the word anyone had ever used for your building, and nice wasn't a word he used often. you tucked the bag into your jacket pocket and passed him the cash. “thanks.”

most people turned and left right away, but you didn’t. and he didn’t seem in a hurry either. the quiet between you stretched for a second.

then he said, almost absentmindedly, “you in school?”

your eyebrows lifted. “how’d you know that?”

his eyes flicked briefly to the worn university tote bag hanging from your shoulder, then back to you. “lucky guess.” there was that faint almost-smile again. it was subtle, but barely there.

you felt strangely seen. “well… yeah,” you said. “master’s program.”

he nodded slowly, like he was filing that information away somewhere. “smart girl.”

the way he said it was so casual you almost missed it. before you could respond, he pushed himself off the car door. “text if you need anything else.”

he opened the door and slid back into the driver’s seat, the engine starting quietly. for a moment you just stood there on the sidewalk.

the window rolled down slightly. taehyung had one arm on the wheel and the other leaned on the middle armrest. "it's cold," he said. "should get back inside."

your cheeks flooded with heat despite the frost biting at it. you smiled a little. "drive safe."

then the window slid up, the car pulled away from the curb, and the dark taillights disappeared down the street.

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

taehyung had been on 4th street for months. same corner, same curb, his engine low, music barely above a murmur.

it wasn’t a bad block for work. quiet enough that nobody asked too many questions, busy enough that people came and went without noticing anything unusual.

most nights he didn’t look at the buildings. there was simply no reason to. but after the first time you texted him, he did. your window was easy to find.

second floor, right above the laundromat sign that flickered every few minutes. and unlike the other apartments on the block, yours never used the overhead light. just lamps, an array of dark yellows, oranges, and pinks that peaked through your curtains.

it made the place look… different. cozy. like the kind of apartment people actually wanted to go home to.

tonight the light was on again. taehyung leaned back in his seat, one hand resting on the steering wheel as someone stepped out of the passenger side and disappeared down the street.

his eyes drifted back up to the window. through the small peak of the curtains he could see movement.

your silhouette as you crossed the room slowly, hair tied up, oversized sweater hanging off one shoulder. probably studying. or reading.

he didn’t realize he was watching until a car honked behind him. taehyung blinked and shifted the car into drive, pulling away.

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

three nights later, your text came through again.

hey. are you around tonight?

taehyung looked down at his phone, leaning against the hood of his car in a dim parking lot. he typed back, yeah.

a pause before your message popped up. same place.

when he pulled onto 4th this time, you were already outside, standing under the streetlight. he noticed that immediately, because last time, you came down after he arrived. tonight, you waited.

you were wearing a long coat that looked thrifted but carefully chosen, the sleeves slightly too big. your hair was down this time, falling over your shoulders in soft waves.

taehyung parked and stepped out. the cold air curled around you two bitterly.

you smiled when you saw him. “hi.” that word again. too friendly for someone meeting a dealer on a dark street.

he leaned casually against the car door. "hey.”

you stepped closer, hands tucked into the sleeves of your coat. “i hope it’s okay i asked again.”

his eyebrow lifted very slightly. “you paid last time, didn’t you?”

you laughed quietly. “yeah.”

“then it’s okay.”

he reached into the car and handed you the small bag. you passed him the cash. but this time, you didn’t immediately leave. instead, you glanced at the car. about a decade old, all black dodge challenger— of course it was— a few subtle modifications such as being lower to the ground than normal.

“it’s really nice.”

taehyung looked at the car like he’d almost forgotten it was there. “it’s alright.”

“the windows are so dark,” you said, leaning slightly to look inside. “you can barely see anything.”

“that’s the point.”

another small laugh escaped you. taehyung watched you for a moment, then he nodded toward the restaurant a block down. “you work there, right?”

your eyes widened slightly. “how did you know that?”

“you walk home in that apron sometimes.”

you blinked. “you’ve seen me?”

“couple times. do work 'round here a lot."

“well,” you said, tucking the bag into your coat pocket, “i hope i haven't embarrassed myself walking home after a twelve-hour shift.”

taehyung lightly shrugged. “wouldn’t be the worst thing i’ve seen.”

you studied him for a second. “you’re very mysterious, you know that?”

his mouth tilted slightly. “am i?”

“yes.”

he pushed himself off the car door. “probably better that way.”

you hesitated. “well… goodnight, taehyung.”

the way you said his name made him pause halfway into the car. he looked back at you. “night, y/n.”

you walked back toward the building, your boots tapping lightly on the sidewalk. taehyung watched until the door closed behind you. a few seconds later, the warm lamp light flicked on in the second-floor window.

he sat there longer than he meant to, just looking at it.

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

you almost didn’t go out that night.

you had a paper due monday, two chapters of reading waiting on your laptop, and a shift at the restaurant in the morning.

But athea had shown up at your apartment with heavy eyeliner and too much energy.

“put something cute on,” Athea said, already digging through your closet. “you’ve been studying for three days straight. you deserve one bad decision.”

forty-five minutes and a taxi ride later, you were squeezing through the line outside a crowded club downtown, the bass from inside vibrating through the sidewalk. the air smelled like perfume, cigarettes, and winter cold.

inside, the lights were low and red, the music loud enough to feel in your chest. athea grabbed your wrist. “drinks first!”

you pushed through the crowd toward the bar. you were halfway through your first drink when athea leaned closer to shout over the music. “wait here! i think i just saw that hot guy from my class.”

and just like that, athea disappeared into the crowd. you sighed, turning slightly to watch the dance floor.

people moved in slow flashes of colored light. laughter, bodies, music pulsing through the room.

“hey.”

you glanced over. a guy, late-twenties and already a little drunk. “you here alone?”

“not really,” you said politely. “my friend’s just—”

he leaned closer anyway. too close. his hand slid onto the bar top, near your waist. “you wanna dance?”

“i’m okay,” you said.

but he didn’t move. instead he smiled in that way that meant he wasn’t planning on leaving. “you sure?”

you shifted slightly, uncomfortable now. “i’m good, thanks.”

the guy leaned in again. “c’mon, don’t be like that—”

a voice cut in from behind him, calm and low. “she said she’s good.”

the guy turned and so did you. and there taehyung was, your drug dealer, standing a few feet away, one hand in the pocket of his jacket, the other holding his phone like he’d been in the middle of something.

black jacket, dark jeans, and the same quiet confidence he always carried. for a second, you just blinked. “taehyung?”

his eyes flicked to you briefly. then back to the guy who was now looking at him up and down. “and you are?”

taehyung shrugged slightly. “doesn’t matter.”

the way he said it was so relaxed it somehow felt more intimidating. a beat of silence passed before the guy scoffed and stepped away.“whatever, man.” he disappeared into the crowd.

you exhaled. “i had that handled,” you said, though your voice held a hint of relief.

taehyung's eyebrow lifted slightly. “looked like it.”

you studied him for a moment. “what are you doing here?”

“working.”

his eyes moved briefly across the room, scanning the crowd. like he was checking something. then they settled back on you. “you?”

“my friend dragged me out.”

“mm.”

there was that familiar quiet pause between you. then he nodded toward your drink.

“that your first one?”

“yes.”

“good.”

You laughed softly. “why?”

“means you’re still making decent decisions tonight.”

Your smile widened slightly. “no shame in making some bad ones.”

that almost-smile appeared again, but it was hard to even catch. “well,” taehyung said casually, glancing toward the dance floor, “night’s not over yet.”

you leaned against the bar, studying him. “you just appear everywhere now?”

he tilted his head slightly. “coincidence.”

athea suddenly appeared again, breathless. “y/n! i found—”

she stopped when she saw taehyung. her eyebrows lifted instantly. “oh. i see you found the number helpful."

you tried not to laugh.

“hi, taehyung," athea said, confusion apparent in her voice.

“'sup,” his tone stayed the same.

but you noticed something small. he shifted slightly closer to you without even thinking about it. athea noticed too and a slow smile spread across her face.

“well,” athea said, grabbing your arm again, “i’m stealing her for a minute.”

athea started dragging you toward the dance floor. you looked back over your shoulder. taehyung was already leaning against the bar again, like the whole interaction had barely registered, but his eyes followed you through the crowd.

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

the cold air outside hit you the second you stepped onto the sidewalk. your ears were still ringing from the music. athea grabbed your wrist and pulled you a few feet down the block, away from the crowd and the neon lights buzzing above the entrance.

then she stopped and turned, staring straight at you. you already knew that look.

athea crossed her arms. “how long?”

“how long what?”

“how long have you known taehyung.”

you blinked. “why?”

athea let out a slow breath like she’d been holding it in since inside the club. “y/n. answer the question.”

you hesitated. “…a couple weeks.”

athea’s eyes widened. “a couple weeks?!”

“it’s not like that!”

“then explain why the guy who used to skip half of sophomore year and get into fights behind the gym just stepped in like your personal bodyguard.”

“wait," you stepped closer. “you know him from school?”

athea nodded slowly. “high school for a bit. gave me weed few months ago at a party."

“for a bit?”

“he dropped out junior year.”

something about the way athea said it made you pause. you weren't judging, you were just simply processing all of the information. “was he bad?” you asked quietly.

athea tilted her head, thinking. “not exactly.”

that answer surprised you. “but he wasn’t exactly good either,” athea added.

you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your coat, staring down the street where cars slid past in streaks of light. “he doesn’t seem like that.”

athea laughed. “he acts like he’s half asleep all the time,” she said. “makes people think he’s harmless.”

you thought about the way yaehyung leaned against his car. yhe way he talked. yhe way he’d stepped in at the bar without raising his voice.

“…he is calm,” you admitted.

athea looked at you sharply. “you guys talk?” you hesitated and athea’s eyes narrowed. “y/n.”

“it’s not a big deal."

"you're buying from him," athea blurted.

"oh my god, athea," you looked around. "can you say it louder?"

she leaned in closer. "a dealer doesn't make conversation with just anybody."

You tried not to laugh. “that sounds very dramatic.”

“i’m serious, he likes you." athea studied your face carefully while you protested. “you like him too!”

“what? no.”

“you do.”

“i barely know him.”

athea shook her head. "that doesn't stop feelings."

"he's..." you begun. "interesting."

"so," Athea giggled. "you're curious."

you shrugged. "maybe a little."

“for what it’s worth,” she said after a moment, “he wasn’t a bad guy in school.”

you looked up. "he just… had a lot going on."

that oddly made something in your chest soften slightly. you nodded. yhat sounded about right.

athea suddenly pointed a finger at you. “but if he breaks your heart, i’m fighting him.”

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

it was colder than usual a few nights later. the kind of cold that made the air sharp in your lungs right when you stepped outside your building.

taehyung's car was already parked at the curb. you walked over, hugging your sweater closer around you.

when you tapped lightly on the window, it rolled down halfway.

“hey,” he said. his voice sounded rougher than usual, like he’d been driving for hours.

“hi,” you leaned slightly on the door. “you’ve been busy tonight?”

“little bit.”

you expected him to pass the bag through the window, but the sharp winter, city air gushed into his window after hitting you. "get in.”

you blinked. “what?”

“it’s cold.” he said it like it was obvious.

you hesitated for half a second, then opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. the door shut with a heavy thud.

inside, the world went quiet. the windows were so dark the streetlights barely touched the interior. the dashboard glowed dimly, casting soft blue light across the car.

the first thing you noticed was the smell. weed. and something deeper underneath it, something warm, clean, sexy. cologne.

he leaned back in the driver’s seat, one big arm resting on the center console. up close, you could see the thick lines of ink along his veiny forearm disappearing under the sleeve of his jacket.

he handed you the small bag and you passed him the cash. your fingers brushed again. neither of you moved right away.

you cleared your throat softly. "this car is… intense.”

taehyung looked around the interior like he hadn’t noticed. “it’s just a car.”

“your windows are definitely illegal.”

he shrugged. "probably."

you laughed quietly, the sound filling the small space between you and for a moment, neither of you spoke. the car hummed softly, engine still running, heaters blasting. then, taehyung reached into the center console. “smoke?”

you raised an eyebrow. “you’re asking that after i buy from you like four times?”

“just offering," he pulled out a joint and a lighter. the flame flickered briefly as he lit it, the orange glow illuminating his face for a second.

he took a slow drag, ghosting the white smoke through his lips and back in, then held it out toward you.

you almost hesitated. not because you didn’t want to, but because the air between you suddenly felt… heavier. like you were already high before the joint was pulled out.

you took it from his fingers. your hands brushed again, and this time his heat stuck on your fingertips. you took a drag, coughing slightly after exhaling the smoke.

taehyung chuckled under his breath. “easy.”

“don’t judge me.”

“i’m not.” but he was watching you. carefully.

you leaned back in the seat, exhaling the smoke, watching in curl in the air. “this car feels like a movie scene.”

“what kind of movie?” he asked, no change in his demeanor.

you shrugged. “the kind where people make bad decisions.”

that familiar almost-smile appeared again. “sounds about right.”

you handed the joint back to him. your fingers lingered just a second too long once more. outside, a car passed slowly down the street. but inside, it felt like time had slowed down.

you turned slightly toward him. “you’re actually not as mysterious as you think you are.”

his eyebrow lifted. “oh yeah?”

“yeah.”

“explain.”

you studied him for a moment. “you’re quiet.”

“mm.”

“but you notice everything.”

taehyung didn’t respond which, somehow, proved your point. you smiled cheekily. “see?”

he shook his head slightly, looking down at the joint before taking another drag. “you talk a lot.”

“is that a complaint?”

“observation.”

you laughed again, the sound coming softer this time. despite the spacious car, the space between you felt smaller now. for a moment you thought he might say something else.

but instead, nothing. once you finished the joint, taehyung glanced toward your building. “you got studying to do?”

you sighed. “unfortunately.”

he nodded toward the door. “then go study.”

you opened the car door, but paused halfway out, looking back at him.“you’re coming back to this street again, right?”

his expression barely changed. “probably.”

“good.” You stepped out, closing the door.

as you walked toward your building, you could feel his eyes on you. When you reached the door, you glanced back. taehyung was still sitting in the car, watching.

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

it was two hours past midnight when you finally stepped out of the restaurant, the cold hitting you instantly.

you wrapped your coat tighter around yourself, tucking your chin into the collar as you started the walk home. the streets were quieter this late—just the occasional car passing, the distant rumble of a bus somewhere downtown.

your feet were sore. your hair still smelled faintly like fryer oil and citrus cleaner. you were halfway across 4th when headlights rolled slowly down the street, a familiar black car with no plate.

you stopped mid-step. the car slowed before pulling over, the driver’s window slid down, revealing none other than taehyung himself. he leaned slightly toward it. “late shift?”

you smiled, a little surprised, and a little relieved to see him. “yeah.”

he glanced toward the restaurant behind you. “you always get off this late?”

“depends on the night.”

for a second neither of you moved. then, taehyung pushed the door open and stepped out. “you walking home?”

you nodded your head down the street. "it's just there.”

he nodded once. “i’ll walk.”

“you don’t have to.”

“i know.”

but he started walking anyway. you fell into step beside him. for a minute you just walked in silence, footsteps echoing softly on the sidewalk.

“you look tired,” taehyung said after a moment.

you sighed. “ten hour shift after classes.”

“what do you do there again?”

“everything.”

that made him huff a brief laugh. “sounds about right.”

you glanced over at him. “what were you doing over there?”

“dropping something off.”

of course. you nodded like that answer made perfect sense. a cold gust of wind swept down the street. you shivered and taehyung noticed immediately.

“you got gloves?”

“no.”

he slipped one hand out of his jacket pocket and handed them to you.

you blinked. “you’re not cold?”

“i’m fine.”

you hesitated, then slid them on. they were warm and way too big for your hands. “thanks.”

he simply nodded.

you kept walking and by the time you reached your building, neither of you had noticed how slowly you'd been moving. the laundromat lights buzzed above you.

you stopped at the door. "well… this is me.”

taehyung nodded. his hands slid back into his jacket pockets.

then you said, almost casually, “do you want to come up?”

the words surprised both of you slightly. taehyung’s eyebrow lifted. “up?”

“for tea,” you added quickly. “or something.”

he studied your face for a second. not suspicious, just pure curiosity. it wasn’t exactly common to invite a dealer up for tea. “thought you had studying to do.”

“i do.”

“so you’re inviting distractions now?”

you shrugged slightly. “maybe.”

a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “dangerous.”

you pushed the door open. “are you coming or not?”

taehyung hesitated just a moment before he followed you inside. the stairwell smelled faintly like detergent and damp concrete as you climbed the narrow steps. you unlocked your apartment door.

when it opened, the warm glow of your lamps spilled softly into the hallway. taehyung paused just inside. the same way he had the first time he’d imagined it. cozy and warm. books, blankets and soft light scattered everywhere.

it was nothing like the places he was used to.

you kicked off your shoes. "see? not scary.”

taehyung glanced around slowly. “nice.”

you smiled. “everyone says that like they’re surprised.”

he stepped further inside. “i’m not surprised.”

“then what are you?”

he looked back at you. “curious.”

the word hung between you. you felt the air shift slightly. “about what?” you asked.

taehyung leaned lightly against the wall near the door. He shrugged. “‘bout you.”

your heart skipped in a way you hoped wasn’t obvious. you turned quickly toward the kitchen.

“well,” you said, trying to sound casual, “tea?”

behind you, taehyung’s quiet voice answered. “yeah.”

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

the kettle hummed softly on the stove.

you leaned against the counter, arms folded loosely as you waited for the water to heat. behind you, taehyung had wandered slowly around the apartment. he wasn't snooping; he was just taking in everything curiously. his fingers brushed the spine of a book on the coffee table.“grad school stuff?” he asked.

“unfortunately.”

he flipped the cover open briefly before closing it again. “looks painful.”

“it is.”

the kettle clicked off and you poured the hot water into two mismatched mugs and handed one to him. your fingers brushed again. and this time, neither of you pulled away immediately.

taehyung took the mug but stayed standing close to you. closer than before. "thanks," he said quietly.

you moved to the couch again, sitting a little closer than earlier. the radiator ticked quietly beside the window. outside, a car passed through the wet streetlight glow.

you tucked your feet under yourself. “so,” you said, glancing over at him, “athea says she knew you in school.”

taehyung’s eyes flicked toward you. “did she.”

“said you disappeared junior year.”

he leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling for a moment. “something like that.”

you waited. he didn’t seem annoyed; just reminiscent.

“my mom got sick,” he said after a moment. His voice stayed casual, but quieter than usual. “had to work.”

you nodded slowly. “that’s hard.”

he shrugged one shoulder. “was what it was.”

you studied his face. there was something different about him when he said it. “you ever think about going back?” you asked gently.

taehyung shook his head. “nah. got other things going on.”

you didn’t push further. something told you that was as much as he was going to give tonight. instead you smiled a little with a nod. for a moment you just looked at each other. the space between you felt warmer now.

Taehyung set his mug down on the table. When he leaned back, his arm settled along the back of the couch behind you. Not touching, but close. Your heart beated a little faster. You pretended to focus on your tea.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you said softly.

He glanced at you. “You talk enough for both of us.”

You laughed. “Rude.”

Taehyung’s fingers brushed lightly against the back of your sweater. Barely a touch. Almost accidental. You didn’t move away. If anything, you leaned slightly closer.

“You do that a lot,” you said.

“What.”

“Act like you don’t know what you’re doing.”

His eyebrow lifted slightly. “You sayin’ I’m flirting with you?”

You looked at him over the rim of your mug. “…Maybe.”

The corner of his mouth lifted slowly. “Maybe.”

The silence that followed was heavier now. Outside, the wind rattled faintly against the window. You set your mug down.

“You know,” you said, glancing at him, “most people would probably be nervous having you in their apartment.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re mysterious.”

“There it is again.”

“And you sell drugs.”

He shrugged. “Light ones.”

You laughed. Taehyung looked around the apartment again. The soft lamps. The blanket on the couch. Your books scattered across the table.

“You’re different from most people I meet,” he said.

You looked over. “Good different or bad different?”

He thought about that for a second. “Good.”

Your chest warmed slightly. “Thanks.”

Another quiet moment passed. Then, Taehyung stood up. “Probably should go.”

You frowned a little. “Already?”

“Yeah.”

But neither of you moved toward the door right away. You were standing closer now. Much closer than before.

You suddenly noticed how tall he was again as Taehyung looked down at you, brown eyes boring into yours. For a second it felt like something might happen. But instead, he stepped back slightly.

“Should lock your door,” he said casually.

You smiled. “I always do.”

“Good.”

He opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Before leaving, he glanced back at you once more.

“You working tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Late?”

“Probably.”

He nodded. "Might see you.”

The corner of your mouth lifted. “Maybe.”

Taehyung gave you one last slight smile before heading down the stairs. Moments later, you heard the front door of the building close. You walked to the window just in time to see his car pull away from the curb down the street.

And for the first time since you met him… you realized you didn’t want him to leave so quickly.

--

You weren't expecting to see him again so soon.

Your shift had ended late again, the streets damp from a light drizzle that had passed earlier. The air smelled like rain and asphalt as you stepped out of the restaurant. Halfway down the block, you heard a familiar engine.

The blacked out car rolled slowly beside the curb, the dark passenger window sliding down.

“You get off work at the same time every night?” Taehyung asked.

You smiled. “You waiting for me?”

He shrugged. “Was in the area.”

You laughed softly. “Sure.”

He tilted his head toward the passenger door. “Get in.”

You hesitated for maybe half a second before opening the door. Inside, the car was warm. The familiar scent of weed and his cologne wrapped around you immediately. The dashboard lights glowed faint blue against the dark interior.

“Long shift?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

He pulled away from the curb before you could ask where you were going.

“Where are we going?” you asked anyway.

“Drive.”

“That’s not a location.”

“It’ll be fine.”

You leaned back in the seat, watching the city blur past the tinted windows. The streets were quieter now. Neon signs glowing, traffic lights changing for empty intersections.

“You do this a lot?” you asked.

“Drive?”

“Disappear in the middle of the night.”

“Helps me think.”

You drove for a while after that. Talking about small things. Your classes. His car. The weird customers you dealt with at the restaurant. His former strange customers.

At some point the streets turned steeper, the buildings thinner. Eventually, Taehyung turned into a small overlook parking lot. The city skyline stretched out below you, lights glittering across the dark water.

You leaned forward slightly. “Whoa.”

Taehyung shut off the engine. The sudden quiet made the world feel still.

“You’ve never been here?” he asked.

You shook your head slowly. “No.”

He leaned back in his seat, watching your reaction more than the view “It’s nice.”

“It’s beautiful.”

You sat beside him, knees turned slightly toward the door, though you weren't really looking outside anymore.

You had been talking for hours.

Somehow it had started with something stupid—complaining about people—and turned into childhood stories, random confessions, and the kind of comfortable silence that only happens when two people forget what time it is.

Taehyung glanced over at you.

“Y’know,” he said casually, voice low, “you’re not what I expected.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? And what exactly were you expecting?”

He smirked a little, tilting his head as he studied you. “Someone quieter.”

You scoffed. “That’s insulting.”

“No,” he said, a small laugh slipping out. “I mean it in a good way.”

He reached over absentmindedly, brushing something invisible off the sleeve of your jacket. His fingers lingered just a second longer than necessary. Neither of you acknowledged it.

The music in the background hummed quietly through the speakers. Taehyung leaned back again, exhaling slowly.

“You talk a lot when you’re comfortable,” he said.

You crossed your arms. “You’re one to talk. You’ve been flirting with me all night.”

He looked genuinely amused by that. “Have I?”

“Yes.”

A pause. Then he grinned. “Working?”

You tried not to laugh but failed. Taehyung watched that reaction like he’d just won something. The wind drifted through the car, carrying the faint scent of weed and his cologne. The space suddenly felt smaller. Quieter.

“Why do you come up here?” You asked after a moment.

He looked back out at the skyline. His expression changed slightly—not sad exactly, but distant.

“Clear my head,” he said.

“From what?”

He shrugged. “Everything.”

You noticed. Taehyung noticed that you did. So, he gently bumped his shoulder against yours.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to figure me out.”

You tilted your head. “Maybe I am.”

Your eyes locked. The moment stretched. Taehyung’s small smile faded into something quieter, something almost thoughtful. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips before flicking back up.

For a second it felt like the entire city had gone silent.

You didn’t move. Neither did he.

Then, Taehyung leaned back again, running a hand through his hair like he had to physically break the moment.

But something about the way he kept glancing at you afterward had changed. And for the first time in a long time, Taehyung realized he might be in trouble.

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

The car was parked outside your building again. It had become a habit without either of you acknowledging it.

Taehyung tapped his fingers against the steering wheel while you talked about something that happened during your shift. Your voice was animated, hands moving as you reenacted the whole thing.

“And then he goes, ‘I know the owner.’”

Taehyung scoffed. “They always know the owner.”

“Right?” you laughed. “Like okay, call him then.”

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he watched you, a smile tugging at his lips. The way your eyes lit up when you were telling a story. The way you leaned closer without realizing it. The small crease that formed between your brows when you were being dramatic.

He’d noticed these things before. But tonight it felt different.

You stopped mid-sentence. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

Taehyung blinked like he’d just been caught doing something illegal. “I’m not staring.”

“You literally are.”

He looked away toward the windshield, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just thinking.”

You tilted your head. “Dangerous.”

He emitted a small laugh from his nose, but his chest felt strange. Heavy. Because the thought that had just crossed his mind wouldn’t go away. He liked being here. Not the neighborhood. Not the car. Not the late-night boredom.

You. And the realization hit him all at once. The late-night drives. Waiting outside your shifts. Remembering small things you said days ago. The way he automatically reached for the passenger seat when you weren't there.

Taehyung leaned his head back against the seat, exhaling slowly.

You watched him. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he muttered.

But his brain kept replaying the same thing over and over. He wasn’t just flirting anymore. He was looking forward to seeing you. Missing you when you weren't around.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. Taehyung glanced over at you again.

You were looking out the window now, unaware of the storm that had just started in his head. And somehow that made it worse.

Because you had no idea. He swallowed, looking back out at the city lights.

Fuck. He was falling for you.

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

The car heater hummed quietly, fog starting to gather along the edges of the windshield. Taehyung leaned back in the driver’s seat, one arm draped casually behind your headrest.

It had started as a normal conversation, followed by a smoke session. It always did. But lately, the space between you kept shrinking.

“You’re staring again,” you said, glancing at him.

Taehyung smirked. “Maybe you just like being looked at.”

“I do not.”

“Yeah?” His voice dropped a little. “Then why you dressed like that tonight?”

You looked down at yourself. It was just a sweater and a skirt you found months ago, followed with dark tights and black, worn, knee-high boots.

“What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?”

“Nothing,” he said easily. But his eyes moved slowly over you anyway. “Looks good on you.”

You tried to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck.

He reached out then, fingers brushing lightly against the sleeve of your sweater. Just a small touch. But he didn’t pull his hand away. The car suddenly felt smaller.

“You’re quiet,” he said.

“I’m thinking.”

“About?”

“Why you’re being weird tonight.”

“Weird?”

“You’re extra… something.”

“Something?”

His tattooed fingers slid lazily down your arm before stopping at your wrist. Not grabbing. Just holding it there.

“You nervous or something?” he murmured, his low gaze piercing into yours.

You tried to keep your voice steady. “I’m not nervous.”

He tilted his head, studying you like he didn’t believe that for a second. “Your heartbeat says otherwise.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “You can’t feel my heartbeat.”

He shrugged, still holding your wrist. “Feels fast.”

“Taehyung.”

His mouth curved into a small smirk, low eyes watching your expression. “Relax, Y/N.”

His thumb brushed over the inside of your wrist absentmindedly. The motion was soft. Distracted. But it sent a spark straight up your body.

“I’m just sitting here.”

“You’re not just sitting.”

He leaned a little closer now, elbow resting against the center console.

“Why you always accusing me of things?”

“Because you’re—”

You stopped mid-sentence. Because now, he was really close. Close enough that you could smell the faint mix of cologne and smoke on him. Taehyung noticed the pause.

His eyes flicked down briefly to your lips before returning to your face.

“Because I’m what?” he asked quietly.

You swallowed. “Trouble.”

He slightly chuckled under his breath. “Yeah?”

His fingers slid from your wrist to your hand, turning it slightly in his.“You say that like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

The tension in the car thickened and neither of you moved. Outside, the street was completely silent.

Taehyung looked at you for a long second before murmuring, “You always look this pretty after classes, or is tonight special?”

You stared at him. “You’re impossible.”

“Still sitting here though.”

His thumb traced slowly across your knuckles. His hand briefly brushed your thigh. Not rushed. Not shy. Just comfortable.

Like touching you had already become normal. And that was the problem. Because neither of you were pretending anymore.

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

Taehyung’s apartment building looked exactly like the kind of place people warned you about. Old brick. Flickering hallway lights. Graffiti on the side of the stairwell.

The stairwell smelled faintly like smoke and cleaning supplies. Your footsteps echoed as you both climbed to the second floor. When he unlocked the door, you weren't expecting what you saw.

The apartment was… surprisingly nice. Minimal.

Black couch. Black coffee table. A sleek TV mounted on the wall. Everything clean, organized, almost too neat.

But it still felt unfinished. Like no one had ever bothered to soften the space. Like it was almost screaming for a woman’s touch. No plants. No art. No warm lighting. Just sharp lines and dark furniture.

You stepped inside slowly. “Wow.”

Taehyung tossed his keys onto the counter. “What?”

“I don’t know,” you said, glancing around. “I expected something different.”

He leaned casually against the kitchen counter.

“Like what?”

“Messier.”

He smirked. “You sayin’ I look messy?”

“Maybe.”

He pushed himself off the counter and walked closer. You suddenly became very aware of how small the apartment felt.

“You always look this cute,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “or is it just when you see me?”

Your eyes widened a little. “Taehyung.”

“What? You nervous again?”

“I’m not nervous.”

He stepped closer. Close enough that you could smell the faint mix of cologne and weed again.

“Then why you standing so stiff?”

“I’m not stiff.”

“You are.”

His hand moved almost absentmindedly to your waist. Not grabbing. Just resting there. Warm. You froze for half a second, but you didn’t move away.

Taehyung noticed immediately. His thumb brushed lightly against the side of your sweater.

“You always this quiet when you come over to a guy’s place?”

“I don’t usually go to guys’ places,” you said.

“Really?”

“Really.”

That made him almost smile. Something softer this time. “Good.”

His hand slid slightly along your waist. Then it went just a little lower. A little too low.

You inhaled sharply. “Taehyung.”

“Hm?” His voice dropped a little, but he didn’t remove his hand.

Instead, he leaned closer, his other arm bracing lightly against the wall behind you. Not trapping you, just close enough that you felt surrounded by him. His broad shoulders and ridiculous height were blocking your entire view, your eyes showing you nothing but him.

“You gonna stop me?” he murmured.

Your heart was beating way too fast now. “You’re very confident.”

“I know.”

His fingers shifted slightly against your side again, slow and distracted, like he wasn’t even thinking about it. Which somehow made it worse.

You shook your head softly. “You’re trouble.”

Taehyung chuckled quietly. That lazy, teasing tone was still there—but something underneath it had changed.

“You keep saying that like it’s supposed to scare you.”

His other hand lifted, brushing lightly against the side of your hair. Not pushing. Just tucking a loose strand behind your ear.

The touch was softer than anything he’d done before. Which somehow made the tension worse.

Your fingers lightly grabbed the front of his hoodie without thinking, making Taehyung freeze for a split second. His eyes dropped to your hand. Then back to your face. “See?” he said quietly.

“What?”

“You touch me back.”

You swallowed. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

He stepped closer again. Now there was barely any space between you. “You sure about that?”

His hand tightened slightly at your waist. Your gaze dropped to his mouth before you could stop yourself. Taehyung noticed it too and air between you felt thick. “Y/N,” he murmured.

Your voice came out barely above a whisper. “Yeah?”

For a second it really looked like he was going to kiss you. His eyes softened, the teasing gone now, replaced by something quieter. Something real.

But then—

Taehyung exhaled sharply and leaned his head back instead. A small, frustrated laugh left his mouth.

“Damn.”

You blinked. “What?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, stepping half a step away. “You’re dangerous.”

You stared at him cluelessly. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” He looked at you again, shaking his head slightly. “I’m trying to behave.”

That made you laugh softly. “You’re doing a terrible job.”

Taehyung smirked slightly. “Yeah."

His eyes drifted to your lips one more time before meeting your gaze again.

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly.

He walked back into the living room after dropping you off home. His place suddenly felt too big. Every part of it now reminded him of you.

The way you stood near the door looking around like you were studying everything. The soft laugh you let out when he said something stupid. The way you said his name when he got too close.

He dropped onto the couch and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His brain replayed the moment against the wall again. Your hand grabbing the front of his hoodie. The way you looked at him. And the way you looked at his mouth.

Taehyung groaned quietly and dragged a hand down his face. He’d been seconds away from kissing you. Seconds.

And for someone like him, that wasn’t usually a big deal. But with you, it suddenly felt like it would mean something. That was the problem.

Waiting outside your shift. Driving around the city just to talk. Letting you sit in his car for hours. Inviting you over. None of that was normal for him.

Taehyung scoffed softly, shaking his head.

Because the more he thought about you—

The more he realized he didn’t want this to stop. Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck again, staring at the ceiling.

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

It was late again. Too late for most people to be outside.

The street in front of your building was quiet except for Taehyung’s car idling at the curb. You stood beside the passenger door, arms wrapped loosely around yourself against the cold.

“You don’t have to wait until I go inside,” you said.

Taehyung leaned against the side of the car, hands in his pockets. “Yeah I do.”

“You don’t.”

He shrugged. “I want to.”

That made you smile a little.

The streetlamp above you cast a soft orange glow over the sidewalk. Your apartment window light was on above you, faintly glowing through the curtains. There was a small pause. Neither of you moved toward the door yet.

You shifted slightly, looking up at him. “You’re quiet tonight.”

He studied you for a moment. “You get shy every time I get close. It's cute.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks warmed. “I don't get shy.”

Taehyung stepped a little closer. The air between you changed immediately. You noticed it too.

“You’re doing that thing again,” you murmured.

“What thing?”

“This… intense staring.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Maybe I like looking at you.”

Your heart kicked a little harder. “Taehyung—”

His hand moved to your waist again, like it belonged there now. His silver rings nudging at your skin through your clothes. You didn’t move away.

“You trust me a lot,” he said. “For someone who keeps telling me I'm trouble.”

“You are trouble.”

“Yeah,” he admitted.

His thumb brushed slowly along your side. “But you keep showing up.”

You looked down for a second before meeting his eyes again. “Maybe I’m curious.”

That made something shift in his expression. Softer but more serious. He stepped closer. Now there was barely any space between you.

“You’re dangerous when you say things like that,” he murmured.

“Why?”

“Because I might believe you.”

The tension thickened. Your fingers lightly grabbed the front of his black leather jacket again without thinking. The same way you had that night in his apartment. Taehyung glanced down at your hand, then back at your face.

“You keep doing that,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“Pulling me closer.”

“I’m not—”

Your sentence cut off. Because this time he didn’t pull back.

His hand slid slightly higher along your waist, steady and warm. His other hand lifted slowly, brushing lightly along your cheek. The touch made your breath catch.

Taehyung leaned down just a little. Close enough that your foreheads almost touched.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured.

You shook your head slightly. That was all the permission he needed.

The kiss started slow. Careful. Like he was testing it. His lips brushed yours once, soft and brief.

But the moment it happened, something shifted amongst you. The hesitation disappeared.

You pulled him closer by the front of his jacket, and Taehyung responded instantly, his hand tightening slightly at your waist as he kissed you again—this time deeper, warmer, like he’d been wanting to do it for weeks.

The city around you faded into the background. Just the quiet street. The cold air. And the warmth of him standing close enough that you could feel his heartbeat through his jacket.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing a little unevenly. Taehyung rested his forehead lightly against yours.

For a second after the kiss, neither of you moved. Your hand was still gripping the front of Taehyung’s jacket. His hand still rested warm against your waist.

Taehyung looked down at you like he was trying to process what had just happened.

“You good?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. But neither of you stepped away. His thumb brushed lightly along your side again. And suddenly the small distance between you felt unbearable.

You leaned in first this time. The second kiss wasn’t careful. Your hand tightened in his jacket as your lips met again, and Taehyung responded instantly, one arm sliding around your waist to pull you closer.

“Y/N—” he murmured against your mouth, but the warning didn’t last long.

You kissed him again before he could finish the sentence. That made him laugh softly under his breath, like he’d just given up pretending he had any self control.

His hand moved up your back, steady and warm, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you again—slower this time, but deeper.

The cold night air barely registered anymore. All you could feel was the warmth of him and the way his fingers traced lightly along your side.

When you pulled apart again, it only lasted a second. Taehyung looked at you like he was debating something.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmured.

You raised an eyebrow. “You kissed me.”

“You grabbed my jacket.”

“You leaned in first.”

He smirked slightly. “You started it.”

But before you could argue, he kissed you again. This time his hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, steady and gentle as he pulled you closer. It felt less hesitant now, like you both finally stopped pretending.

When you finally broke apart again, you laughed softly, a little breathless. “We should probably stop.”

Taehyung glanced toward your apartment building… then back at you.

“Probably,” he agreed.

But neither of you moved. Instead, his hand slid back to your waist again, pulling you closer to his chest.

“Just one more,” he said quietly.

You rolled your eyes. And then he kissed you again anyway.

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

The hallway outside your apartment felt colder than the street.

You fumbled slightly with your keys while Taehyung stood behind you, broad shoulders towering you as his hands were shoved casually in the pockets of his jacket, watching.

“You nervous?” he asked.

“I’m not nervous.”

“You missed the keyhole twice.”

You shot him a look over your shoulder. “Stop talking.”

Taehyung smirked. The door finally clicked open.

Your apartment felt warmer than usual when you stepped inside. The soft glow from the lamps filled the small studio, the same cozy lighting Taehyung had noticed the first time he saw your window from the street. No overhead lights, just warm pools of amber light across the room.

Taehyung closed the door behind you. For a second, neither of you said anything. The silence was different now. Heavy.

You set your keys down on the small table, trying to act normal.

“So,” you said, a little breathlessly, “do you want some tea or—”

Your sentence cut off because suddenly Taehyung was right behind you. Close enough that you felt the heat of him before you even turned around.

“You trying to calm down?” he asked quietly, warmth shooting down your back.

“Maybe.”

“That’s cute.”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms slightly. “You’re not helping.”

Taehyung laughed under his breath. “I’m not doing anything.”

But his hands were already moving to your waist. Familiar now. Natural. His fingers settled there easily, thumbs brushing slowly along the fabric of your sweater.

You exhaled. “You said we should calm down.”

“I did.” His voice was lower now. “But you invited me upstairs.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

His hand slid slightly lower along your side. Not rushed, but just enough to make your breath catch again.

“You look pretty.”

“That’s not fair.”

“What isn’t?”

“You saying things like that.”

He smirked faintly. “You always look this cute or just when you see me?”

You groaned softly. “You already used that line.”

“Still true.”

His hand shifted again, fingers resting lower along your hip now. A little more daring than before, making you notice immediately.

“Taehyung.”

“Hm?”

His thumb traced a slow circle against your side. The casual confidence in the gesture made the tension spike all over again. The small studio suddenly felt even smaller.

“You should sit,” You said.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “You think sitting down’s gonna help?”

“Maybe.”

But when you tried to move toward the couch, his hand caught lightly at your waist again. Not stopping you completely; just slowing you down.

“Y/N.” His voice was quieter now.

You turned back toward him which was a big mistake. Because now you were close again. Close enough that the tension from outside came rushing back instantly.

Taehyung looked at you for a long second before shaking his head slightly.

“You really invited the wrong guy upstairs if you wanted to calm down.”

You laughed softly, though your heart was racing again. “You came anyway.”

“Yeah.”

His hand slid slowly along your waist again, pulling you just a little closer. And a second later he leaned down and kissed you again.

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

20 minutes later~

The convenience store near your apartment was almost empty. Just the low hum of the refrigerators and a bored cashier behind the counter. You walked down one of the aisles, holding a basket while Taehyung followed beside you, towering over you like a personal bodyguard.

“You’re buying too many snacks,” he said.

“They’re for studying.”

“You said that last time.”

“And I studied.”

You grabbed a bag of chips and tossed it into the basket. “You’re very judgmental for someone who showed up uninvited.”

“I was invited.”

“I said you could come up.”

“Exactly.”

You reached for the drink cooler and bent slightly to grab a bottle from the bottom shelf. When you stood up again, you almost ran into someone.

“Oh—sorry.”

A guy around your age stepped aside quickly. “No worries.”

His eyes lingered on you for a second longer than necessary and Taehyung noticed immediately.

You moved past him, heading toward the register. But Taehyung stayed where he was for a moment, watching the guy glance back once and check you out.

Something in Taehyung's expression changed. Subtle. Quiet. Then he followed you. By the time you reached the counter, Taehyung was standing close behind you. Both of his hands rested casually on your waist.

You glanced up at him. “You’re doing it again.”

“What?"

“This,” you gestured lightly toward his arm around you.

He looked down at his hands like he’d just noticed it. “Oh.”

But he didn’t move it. The cashier rang up the snacks, glancing between you with a small smile.

“You two together?”

“Yeah.”

Simple. Casual. Like it was obvious. You blinked slightly, looking up at him. But his expression stayed the same, like he hadn’t said anything strange at all.

The cashier nodded. “Thought so.”

Taehyung handed over a bill before you could act. He grabbed the bag of snacks as you walked out of the store, the cool night air hitting you again.

You turned toward him immediately. “You didn’t correct her.”

“Correct what?”

“You said we’re together.”

Taehyung shrugged, walking beside you. “Felt easier.”

“Easier?”

“Yeah.”

He glanced down at you. “You complainin'?”

You hesitated. “…No.”

That made him smile faintly. As you reached the sidewalk, his hand returned to your waist again automatically, pulling you closer to his side as you walked.

“You’re very touchy tonight.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “You mind?”

You shook your head slowly. “No.”

Taehyung hummed. “Good.”

His thumb brushed lightly along your side as you walked toward your building, sharing one of his joints together.

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

Taehyung didn't plan to stay much longer after helping you get your snacks. As much as he wanted to, he wanted to give you time to study. Until you both ended up on the couch again.

The same dim lamps lit the small room, the soft amber light making everything feel warm and sleepy. Some random show played on the TV. Neither of you were paying attention.

“You’re staring again,” you said.

Taehyung leaned back. “You like when I stare.”

“I do not.”

He chuckled deeply. “Sure.”

His hand rested casually on the middle of the space between you. Then, slowly, it moved. Settling naturally on your thigh. You immediately glanced down.

“Taehyung.”

“What?”

“You know what.”

His thumb traced a slow line over the fabric of your leggings like he wasn’t doing anything unusual.

“You’re overreacting.”

“I’m not.”

His hand stayed there. Warm. Heavy. Comfortable. But then his fingers shifted slightly higher. Just a little. You inhaled softly.

“What's wrong?” His tone was lazy, teasing.

But his eyes were watching you closely.

His thumb brushed along your thigh again, sliding slightly upward this time before stopping. Right at the edge of where it would definitely be too high.

You grabbed his wrist lightly. “Taehyung.”

He smirked. “What?”

“You’re impossible.”

“You keep saying that.”

Your fingers were still around his wrist, but you didn't push his hand away. He noticed that immediately.

“You gonna move my hand?” he asked.

You hesitated. “…Maybe.”

But you didn’t.

Taehyung leaned a little closer.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s what I thought.”

The tension in the room thickened again.

You shook your head slightly. “You’re trouble.”

"I know."

After a moment he finally moved his hand, sliding it back down your thigh in a slow, almost reluctant motion.

“Relax,” he said.

“You’re the one making it difficult.”

“That’s kind of my thing.”

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

You were still leaning against Taehyung’s shoulder when he shifted slightly beside you.

“You falling asleep on me?” he murmured.

“Maybe.”

“You’re supposed to be studying tonight.”

“You’re distracting.”

He chuckled softly at that. “Yeah?”

You turned your head slightly to look at him. Big mistake. Because suddenly you were too close again. Taehyung noticed the way your eyes flicked down to his mouth. The same way you had outside your building.

“You keep doing that,” he said quietly.

“Doing what?”

“Looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to make some trouble.”

You rolled your eyes slightly. “You’re the trouble.”

His hand slid slowly from the back of the couch to your waist again. The movement was natural now. But this time he didn’t stop there. His fingers tightened slightly at your side as he leaned closer.

“Taehyung—”

But whatever you were about to say disappeared the moment he kissed you. This kiss wasn’t careful like the first one. Or teasing like the others. It was deeper, hungrier. Like all the tension between you had finally snapped.

Your hand immediately grabbed the front of his shirt again, pulling him closer which Taehyung responded to instantly; one arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you into him. Your chest was flushed against his before he manhandled you with one arm and onto his lap, straddling him.

The kiss deepened, slow but intense, weeks of teasing finally spilling over. The room felt warmer and smaller around you. Your fingers slid up into his hair without thinking, and Taehyung let out a quiet laugh against your lips.

“You’re trouble,” he murmured.

“You started it.”

“You invited me upstairs.”

“You came.”

That made him smile slightly before kissing you again. His hands moved carefully along your sides, pulling you closer until the space between you disappeared completely.

At some point the blankets and pillows fell to the floor as the TV kept playing quietly in the background. Neither of you noticed because now, you were completely wrapped up in each other. You desperately tugged at his black tee, making him groan in your mouth.

When you finally paused for breath, Taehyung rested his forehead lightly against yours.

“You sure about this?” he asked softly.

You looked up at him, eyes warm, breath still uneven. "Yes."

And then he kissed you again. This time, the softness disappeared quickly. Your tongues colliding, desperately fighting for dominance before he took over yours. One of his hands laid low at your hip while the other rested on the back of your head.

"God," he growled. "You drive me fucking insane."

His words sent chills down your spine before he pulled away, aiming at your neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from the back of your ear to your collarbone. He took in every noise that left your mouth, something that made him feel dizzy.

"Can't get enough of you," he murmured in your ear.

At this point, his hand was fully grabbing your ass while the other laid lazily on your neck. You were a whimpering mess beneath him as he kissed you, before his finger tugged at the neckline of your top.

"You first," you teased after shaking your head.

He growled into the kiss before quickly sliding both of his giant palms on either side of your ass, picking you up and straddling you against his chest. He settled you on one arm as he roughly opened the door to your bedroom and gently sat you down on the bed.

Then, he did it. Before you could blink, his shirt was off, his buff arms dragging the fabric up and revealing his built chest and the shoulders that now increased ten times in size. Tattoos crawled up his entire body, swirling around his arm, littered across his chest, down his steel abs and back up around his neck.

You visibly bit your lip as he watched you check him out with a large smirk. It wasn't long before he was towering over you at the edge of the bed, eyes dark.

He lowered his mouth to yours, kissing you with hunger before immediately reaching for the hem of your top and gently taking it off of you. Now, it was his turn to check you out as he visibly paused, eyes trailing up and down your figure.

"Always look so beautiful baby," he whispered in your ear.

The name was enough to make you soak through your leggings. It was then when he laid you down on the bed, kissing all over your chest and gently sucking on your tits, crawling on top of you. One veiny hand by your head while the other greedily roamed your body like it was all his.

His fingers came close to your thigh before stopping near your clit. He traced over it through the fabric which earned a breathy moan from you. He darkly chuckled at the wetness already there.

"Wet already for me baby?" He muttered into a kiss.

"These comin' off now," He tugged at your leggings, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth.

Before you knew it, you were in nothing but your thong.

"Wore this for me?" he grunted, fingers tugging at the lacy material before his eyes praised your body.

"So fuckin' perfect."

Taehyung quickly pulled away to take off his already sagging jeans that revealed the hem of his Calvin Klein boxers. You got up, reaching for his belt loop. He immediately pulled his hands back, grunting as he watched you undo it for him.

You gasped once his jeans hit the floor, the belt causing a thud noise. Large tattoos wrapped around his thick, chiseled legs but you hardly noticed them. Because you were shocked-- you knew it would be big. But this? Beneath his white boxers awaited a monster, one that was clearly hungry for you. You've had boyfriends, but this is a size you've never seen before. He smirked.

"Taehyung--" you uttered.

"See what you do to me baby?" he muttered, leaning down to your ear.

He grabbed your hand, intertwining it with his and pressed a brief kiss to it before dragging it along his hard cock. "Make it so hard for me to behave."

You bit your lip and palmed your hand against his length, making sure to lightly drag your nail along with it. It twitched beneath you before Taehyung let out a groan, immediately picking you up and gently tossing you onto the bed, making you giggle.

He climbed on top of you, engulfing you in a hungry kiss as he lazily traced his fingers up and down your clit. It wasn't long before he pulled your thong to the side and inserted a thick, tattooed finger in you.

You gasped as you immediately clenched around him earning a deep groan from him. It had been awhile for the both of you. Once you adjusted, he inserted another and began to go in and out.

"Fuck baby," he groaned against your neck. "Might tear you apart tonight."

You moaned at that and he couldn't ignore the way your walls got tighter around his fingers, sucking them in through your wetness.

"Like that?" he breathed. "Want me to tear you apart pretty girl?"

You nodded desperately followed by a whine, not trusting your own voice. He then leaned down, leaving a trail of kisses down your figure before stopping below your waist. He left the smallest kiss on your clit then began to gently lap at your pussy.

You cried out; your fingers immediately tangling in his dark fluffy hair and almost pulling on his head. He then dived in you like his was hungry— like he had been starved for days while his two fingers continued to thrust inside you. You quickly felt your release coming, moaning endlessly under him as his tongue greedily explored your insides.

"Taehyung, I'm--"

It was only a brief moment before Taehyung was lapping at your release, his nose practically buried in your clit as he groaned against your pussy while you breathlessly called his name.

He couldn't get over it. How beautiful you were. How you withered underneath him and how he finally had the opportunity to worship you, make you feel good, make you forget everything but you and him.

"Taste so good, baby."

After you came down from your high, you eagerly gripped at his shoulders, tugging him towards you and immediately engulfed him into a kiss. He grinded his clothed, hard member against your exposed pussy that was dripping in arousal.

He kissed you again, tugging your earlobe between his teeth before pulling away. "Got condoms baby?"

"No," you quietly admitted.

He paused, eyes staring so deeply into yours before speaking.

"Then we don't have to--"

"I still want to."

"You sure?" He asked one more time.

"Need you, Tae" you whimpered.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Say it again."

"I need you Taehyung," you cried out.

Then he snapped, darkness completely taking over his eyes before capturing you into a rough kiss again, teeth gently colliding with one another. Your nails gripped at his boxers, and without hesitation, pulled them down.

His member sprung out in front of you, revealing his true, monstrous size. You caught yourself gasping again before reaching out, your hand seeming to have shrunk in size when you wrapped it around him, slowing pumping him.

He let out a loud moan before gently pushing you back down on your pillows, getting ready to line himself up at your entrance.

"Need to be inside you," he grunted.

He teasingly rubbed his tip back and forth at your entrance, admiring you as you whimpered below him.

"Taehyung," you cried. "Please."

He gave you one last look, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before slowly entering it in, his thick tip pushing through your tight walls. You cried out when he was barely past the entrance. He leaned closer to you, his hot breath spilling all over your neck as he pressed gentle kisses all over.

"It's okay baby," he cooed. "You're taking it so well."

After a few minutes of his encouraging praises, you became more adjusted to his size.

"Tae, you can move," you whispered.

And so, he did. He gently pushed himself all the way inside of you, moans erupting from the both of you. He kissed you as he began to thrust, slow and gentle like he was scared to break you. He was exploring every inch of you, taking his time.

"Taehyung," you moaned. "Need you to break me."

"Yeah?" he murmured, to which you nodded. "Can't take it back now, pretty girl."

His fingers dug deeper into your thighs, spreading them widely apart with his barely even a quarter of his strength. He didn't waste any time; his pace immediately quickening to an impossible speed. He hit every spot inside, earning loud moans that made him go harder.

He lifted your two legs up and placed them on either side of his shoulders, leaning down; his bare shoulders blocking your entire view. He was thrusting into you as your feet were in the air, nearly touching the headboard above your head. He was hitting places you didn't know existed, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You were a moaning mess when he picked you up with one arm and flipped you over, letting you catch your breath before softly placing you in the pillows. He slapped your ass before entering inside you once again, resuming at his brutal pace.

"All mine," he growled in your hair, leaving no space between you two.

His entire body was on yours, both of his inked hands gripping your low at your hips, fingers trailing over your ass as he trusted into you with all his force.

Everything about him had you absolutely falling apart underneath him- his warmth, his words, how deep he was inside you. He treated you like an absolute angel despite ruining you, despite bruising your insides.

"Feel so fucking good," he breathed.

He kissed your neck sloppily from behind as you cried into the pillows, wet slapping noises echoing throughout your bedroom.

"You're like a drug, Y/N." He admitted, voice low and rough. "Fucking addicted to you."

If his dick wasn't enough, that had you absolutely lost. He pounded into you before you felt yourself coming to your release. You told him through the pillow and he nodded, continuing to hit the spongy part inside of you. You released yourself on his length, crying out as he made his final, slower thrusts.

"Come on my dick baby," he said. "That's it."

"Look at how beautiful you are."

He pulled out before releasing himself all over your thigh, thick hands gripping onto your hips as he cursed.

You gasped for air, turning your head to the side as he was already up and quickly looking for a towel. Before you could even process it, he was already back with one, gently wiping the mess he made on you.

"Y/N," he called out worriedly, tossing the towel somewhere and laying beside you. "You okay baby?"

You turned onto your back, giggling in disbelief. "Yeah. You?"

His heart swelled at the sight of your smile. He took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your hand.

"Good," he smiled softly— a reaction that he once concealed, a reaction that was hard to get out of him. But it now became familiar to you, and only you.

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

Taehyung’s arm was draped loosely around your waist, his breathing slow and steady against the back of your shoulder.

You turned slightly to look at him.

His hair was messy, his face softer than you'd ever seen it. Less guarded. The version of him no one else probably got to see. You smiled faintly. He slowly opened one eye, voice rough with sleep.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Just smiling at each other, taking it in. Then, Taehyung propped himself up with one elbow to look at you.

"You regret it?" he mumbled.

"What?" You stared at him like the question offended you. "No."

“Good.”

He looked relieved in a way he tried to hide, face almost buried in your neck.

After a moment you tilted your head slightly. “So… what does this make us?”

Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck. A rare, nervous gesture. “You want the honest answer?”

“Yes.”

He looked at you for a second. Then shrugged slightly. “I don’t really see you going anywhere.”

You smiled. “That’s not exactly romantic.”

“Didn’t say it was.”

He reached over and pulled you even closer. “But I mean it.”

You studied him. “You’re saying we’re together?”

Taehyung’s mouth tilted slightly. “Yeah.”

Then, after a pause— “If you want to be.”

You leaned forward and kissed him softly. “That’s a yes."

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

Winter had turned into early summer. Your apartment looked a little different now.

There was a bouquet of flowers on the windowsill. A hoodie hanging over the back of the chair that definitely didn’t belong to you. Taehyung sat at the small kitchen counter while you finished making something.

He watched you quietly. The way you hummed softly while you worked. The way you moved around the apartment like it was both of your spaces now. He was incredibly enamored by you every waking day; his eyes never leaving you until they absolutely had to. He treated you like a princess, spoiling you rotten on shopping and dates.

Things had changed over the past months.

You knew more about him now. About the rough neighborhood he grew up in. About dropping out of school. About the years he spent learning to survive on his own.

He didn’t tell people those things. But he told you.

And you told him about your childhood too. About the loneliness. About leaving home and building a life by yourself.

Neither of you had said those words yet. But the feeling had been there for a while. Taehyung had just never said it before, to anyone.

You set the mugs down and sat across from him.

“What?” you asked when you noticed him staring.

“Nothing.”

“Thinking too much.”

Taehyung looked down at the table for a moment. Then back at you.

“You waited,” he said.

“For what?”

“For me.”

You shrugged softly. “I wasn’t in a rush.”

He nodded slightly. His fingers tapped once against the table before he spoke again.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

His voice was quieter this time. “I love you.”

The words hung in the air between you. Simple. But heavy. Like they meant everything.

You blinked, surprised. You knew how hard that must have been for him to say.

You smile grew slowly. “You took long enough.”

Taehyung scoffed softly. “Six months isn’t that long.”

He leaned across the table slightly, looking down at his hands. A nervous act you had never seen before.

“You gonna say it back?”

You reached over and took his hand. “I love you too.”

And if loving you was a bad decision, Taehyung knew one thing for sure— it was the best one he’d ever made.

☆˙ . ˎˊ˗

an: been dreaming of this fic for a minute so I decided to take matters into my own hands hehe. hope u guys like it! i wrote this last year so i apologize for any mistakes!

He hates to see his sweet baby sister is pain but he knows you can push through. Because that is what a big brother is supposed to do, right? encourage his sister to do hard things.

The stretch grows as he pushes deeper into you and you whine underneath him.

“Shh, hāedar. You have to be quiet.” He murmurs into your ear as he starts slow, shallow thrusts.

“I-I can’t… it’s too much.”

“Remember how you begged for it only moments ago.” He holds your face in his hand, trying to keep your eyes focused on him. “I said we could wait for our wedding night but you wouldn’t stop begging for your big brother to fill you.”

He pushes in deep and you gasp at the feeling of him bottoming out.

“I… know.”

He smiles at you softly and nods. “I know you do.” His right hand moves down to your stomach, pressing down slightly on the bulge from his dick. He smirks at how deep he is reaching inside you. “So you’ll be quiet before your future king finds another way to keep that mouth shut.”

He thinks, in some way, he must have hoped that you would fly to him, upon your dragon, because his stomach starts to settle into desolation at the sight of empty skies.

His savior, his salvation, crying out his name so he can feel the strings of your voice play the tune of his heart once more; a final call of ‘Jace!’ before he dissolves into the sea.

Perhaps, he convinces himself, his head keeps slipping beneath the surface, or perhaps he is delirious from blood loss, because his eyes keep lolling upwards and finding no trace of you.

Surely you are there, somewhere, anywhere, loving him, lacking him, dreaming him back into your vicinity. Surely you are, and that is why you cannot be here to kiss him in a sea of fire and blood, to drag him out from the tide, to resuscitate him the way you always do.

He wants to remember you again, tries to recall the lilt of your eyes in the sunlight, the tender press of your fingertips against his throat, the particular happiness love has taught him to associate with you. He can envision it in his mind; can almost hear you uttering reassurances in his ear; can feel the nestle of your fingers in his hair; can feel the swell of warmth around him, seeping into the water and consuming the edges of his form, skirting around him, until it envelopes him whole.

If he focuses long enough for a moment, on the darkness unfurling through his mind, he can acquiesce the nothingness to bleary outlines of dragons, and the cold of morning flights, and the ridges of your name traced in ink, followed by his surname.

He wants, desperately, to sink into the figures he views in the abyss, but a sudden fear grips his heart where it is still fighting, that stops him from tipping over.

No, no, no, no, no, you have to come, he has to live, he can’t die here swallowed by the sea, he doesn’t want to be left alone.

He cannot open his eyes. 

His consciousness flops uselessly, body floating along the surface of the sea docilely, accepting its fate so easily. Move, he wants to scream, wants to clutch onto his limbs and force them to move, to swim, to struggle, to take himself out of the sea, to pull out the arrows, he should not be so weak…

He cannot open his eyes.

Pain resurfaces to bite him once more, numbed only by the frigid water. But even the sea is not as cold as the chill that washes over him, spreading goosebumps and salt along his skin. The waves lap lightly at his throat, his jaw, his ears.

His mind thrashes erratically, ressurecting itself in sudden spurts of strength to despair at his utter lack of ability in the wake of death.

He is going to die here. His cognizance is descending faster than he can make closure with, and his mind is bawling, screaming in its subliminal confines, the sensation already dulling in its inconsequential defiance.

He cannot die here, he cannot die here; his body has already given up, his will to live soon tamed by physical demise.

He can still think, he can still feel, he can still remember, he cannot be dead, not if he is still narrating and conscious, he has to live, but he cannot move.

Everyone is waiting for him, you are waiting for him, you—

You…

He just has to go a bit further…

He just has to gather a bit more strength…

He will live and move and crawl his way back to you, he just has to…

rest, for a while.

(I MINUTE)

“Jacaerys is a bit of a long name,” you say. It is the first time you have spoken since you had been introduced to him the evening before.

The room is virtually empty, seating only you on the corner armchair, and him on the windowsill. 

He glances at you, jolted by your voice, “…Oh.”

You meet his gaze head-on, eyes boring into him in a way that is less confrontational and more… earnest.

“…You can call me Jace,” he proffers, after a moment.

“Alright,” you acquiesce. He watches you diffidently, lips set in a faint pout.

Your father gave you sweets, tucked beneath the fold of your hands in your lap, for you to share with the heir to the throne.

You hesitate, for a moment, before meeting his gaze once more, “Do you like sweets?”

Jace frowns, and you suppose it was an unneeded question. You doubt he would’ve rejected the sweets if you had offered them directly, but now that he has the choice, he will surely turn down your offer and leave you cradling candy beneath your fingers for the rest of the congealing silence.

“Do you have any?” He queries, instead. You turn your hand over, watching him expectantly all the while.

“Do you want them?”

He nods eagerly, a smile beginning to tug at his lips as you hold your hand out, “Yes, please.”

His fingers graze your palm briefly, as he plucks one of the sweets out, faltering for a moment before innocuously taking all of them. Your gaze dips, cursing yourself for your sudden awkwardness. You’re not normally so uncultured.

“Have you seen the gardens yet?” He asks casually, after he’s finished the sweets and you’ve sat wallowing in shame for a few minutes.

Your head raises, “I think my mother told me not to go outside the castle.”

“You’ll get away with it if you’re with me,” Jace gives a boyish grin, fitting for his age, “Come on.”

You rise from your chair, following after him. He holds the door for you, shutting behind you gently.

“Shh,” he gives a mischevious wink, before darting past the guards when their heads are turned.

He glances back periodically as he scampers into the courtyard to ensure he hasn’t lost you. You arrive shortly behind him, wide-eyed and rumpled. The sight prompts him to glance away, a strange warmth flooding his cheeks.

In the years that come, making you run around after him becomes one of his favorite hobbies.

He coughs awkwardly, quickly turning towards the greenery before you can think too much of it.

You shuffle next to him, peering at the flowers, “They’re beautiful.”

You lean down to indulge in the fragrance of the flowers, noticing Jace watching you intently in your periphery.

You glance over at him, inquisitively.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurts out.

“Oh,” you utter faintly, paralyzed for a moment as he flushes heavily and runs off.

Your arm shoots out, trying to grasp onto his retreating form leaving you, the way he did in the end, but falling short.

You’re frozen for a few moments, unsure of how to feel now that the giddiness of the moment was so quickly disrupted by his departure.

Those must have been some very special sweets, you decide finally, to have wreaked such a phenomenon upon a boy you’ve only just talked to once. Such odd behavior, odd even for someone you’ve only just met, because surely that cannot be normal for anyone. 

It must be the sweets, you affirm in your mind. You cannot think of any other reason for his behavior.

(II MINUTES)

It is difficult to avoid someone when they have spent a month in the same castle as you, and Jace is inevitably brought before you once more.

He stands next to you, inching his way closer until your sleeves are brushing.

You glance over at him. His head ducks once more, but he does not run away this time.

“…Do you have any more sweets?” 

So it was the sweets. You muster a wan smile, “I can ask my father for more.”

“It’s fine,” he answers quickly, “I don’t really need them.” And then he’s off once more, departing quickly before you can prolong the conversation.

Such exchanges populate the majority of your interactions with him, until enough time passes that he realizes he will likely not be rid of you anytime soon. Even he understands that it would do him well to dispel the uncomfortable feeling he feels in his stomach when he’s around you.

You find him rather peculiar, and you do not understand why he despises you to the point that he tries to avoid you at every turn. Have you done anything wrong, you wonder?

You cannot fathom why he detests you so, and you eventually gain the conviction to deliver a peace offering.

Sweets seem to be the source of every exchange you’ve had with him, so you decide upon them.

You decide to pluck a few flowers from the garden and stash the sweets inside a bouquet, slithering out into the courtyard. 

Your hand is moments away from the stem when you glance back, freezing when you notice one of the guards watching you impassively.

Your lips part to protest, to implore your innocence and sulk back to your chambers, but the guard watches you for a few moments without any true reaction.

Then, slowly, the guard nods, to which you beam brightly, and turns away.

You do not pause to waste the guard’s lenience, gathering the flowers systemically. As you return, you stop before the guard and offer one of the flowers. The guard hesitates, for a moment, before accepting it.

Unbeknownst to you, Jace has been crouched in the bushes all the while, having dived into the foliage upon seeing you enter the garden. 

His eyes narrow when he sees you pause before the guard, chest churning in a way that he does not like at all. A familiar petulance settles over him, and he straightens out of the bushes swiftly, dusting himself off and pointedly trudging in the other direction.

When he returns to his chambers, however, all the discontent he has been carefully curating vanished with a gasp that escapes before he can stop it.

Against his door, lay flowers tied neatly with a ribbon. He recognizes it as the kind you use in your hair, after numerous times spent watching you in passing. The sweets are wrapped up inside, with what seems to be a shawl holding it all together. Your initials are inscribed choppily on one of the sweets.

It is beautiful, daresay even more so than you. Sweeter than sweets, and it makes his teeth rot. His heart feels seized in his chest for some reason, and he wants to throw the bouquet into the fire and also hunt you down and share the sweets with you.

He decides on a middle ground, and runs all over the castle with a frenzied urgency until he finds you, in the drawing room with your parents.

“Take it back!” He shoves the bouquet into your arms roughly, eyes wide and panicked. 

Then, after a brief hesitation, he hugs you roughly as well, withdrawing almost immediately and running out of the room.

Silence lapses over the room, and you are left in a state of profound confusion.

“…Is that my shawl?” Your mother asks, finally.

“I thought it’d suit the bouquet,” is all you defend yourself with, picking gingerly at the petals and still staring numbly at the doorway.

From Jace’s end, he dashes through the corridors and up the stairs until he is safely stashed away in his room. Despite himself, he cannot suppress the annoyance that sprouts, blooms like flowers, when you do not come after him you never did, not until it was too late. 

It is unfair, he knows that, but most of his attitude towards you is. It’s not your fault he feels all anxious and his stomach goes in knots whenever he’s around you, although he wouldn’t completely rule out food poisoning as a possibility considering the many people that would probably want to take him out.

He spends the rest of the afternoon tucked away tightly in his room, until a knock resounds on his door.

“Come in,” he says sullenly.

His mother steps in with the same stolidness in her eyes that has preceded all her lectures of him. Your mother must’ve spoken with her, or perhaps you did.

“I have been told you have run into a conflict with your young friend.”

“[Name]’s not my friend,” he cuts in sharply, prompting a reproving glance from Rhaenyra.

“Apologize, Jacaerys,” Rhaenyra reproaches. You must be awfully important to her, for her to undertake such a measure of harshness in curtness and his full name.

“I have nothing to apologize for,” he fires back, the fire churning in his chest stopping him from swallowing his pride.

He blames his mother, when you are seated next to him for supper.

“I’m sorry you didn’t like the flowers,” you start, after he has spent enough time peering into the pit of his bowl for you to feel bad.

“The flowers were fine,” he answers tersely.

You frown.

“Was it the cakes?”

“I didn’t eat them,” he reminds you, “but they were good last time.”

“Was the shawl ugly?” You try a final time.

He seems to lose his patience at that, “I don’t want the bouquet, can you not accept that?”

You pause, gaze dipping from his face, “…Oh.”

His heart sinks into the pit of his stomach at that, and his lips are parting to speak, to voice the longing that has been tugging at him for weeks, nearly months now, but already your gaze has returned to bore into his.

“Why do you hate me?”

You slide off the chair, pushing past him once the words have been uttered, and within the span of a few seconds you have disappeared from his perception.

The hall is crowded enough that no one seems to notice your departure, individuals flowing in and out in a way that drowns out all semblance of presence and absence. 

He tries to look for his mother, to implore her into placing you with him for tomorrow’s breakfast so he can at least resolve things after a night of rest, but she has been swept away by the sea like him of people and he realizes that he must confront his own wrongdoings, for once.

He gives a heavy sigh, exhaling all the tension that has been tying up his heart since the first day you spoke to him. And then he’s chasing after you, darting into the halls like you’re following him into the garden again.

The halls are restless with his presence but absent of yours, and despite how unsurprising it is, he still feels personally disappointed in some way.

The guard peers at him for a few moments, before gesturing at the general direction of the courtyard, “Go.”

And the very guard he had felt such resentment for this morning becomes a source of much gratitude and he thanks the guard in a string of rapid words as he dashes into where every one of his learning moments seem to start.

He finds you in the orchard, tearing apart the bouquet. You must’ve kept it, he supposes, after he gave it back to you.

He stops before you tentatively, hovering over you for a few moments before reaching down to pry the shreds of the bouquet from your hands.

Your head raises. You have not cried yet, but there is an incipient gleam in your eyes. Still, his interruption seems to cease your outburst.

“I’m sorry,” you say once more, but it’s far more sincere this time, “I was being immature.”

He is quiet, for a spell.

“I liked the bouquet,” he admits, finally, “a lot.”

Your brows furrow, “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying,” he pronounces, “I thought the bouquet was beautiful.”

After a moment, “I think you’re beautiful.”

You watch him for a long moment, before glancing away, “Save that for your courtiers.”

“I mean it, I promise!” He rushes to his feet when you move to leave once more, gathering the scraps of the bouquet and holding them against him.

It’s a last ditch effort, caution to the wind. 

“I adore you!”

He does not truly believe what he says until the words escape. It is the only thing that can make sense, he realizes with a sudden bout of fear; the pattering of his heart, the tension coiling in his stomach, the sudden urge he had to hug you boiling over from all the times he tried to touch you impulsively.

He watches you with wide eyes, like a frightened deer before a dragon.

“You—“ You turn towards him, eyes flaring accusatorily, but they falter in face of his fearful earnestness.

“I adore you,” he says once more, with conviction.

You watch him for a long moment, gradually approaching him. He has the impression that you’re trying to decipher every line of his irises, because you come close enough that he thinks he could kiss you, if he truly dared.

But he has never brave in matters of the heart. It is the only aspect that his courage falls short in, and his heart stutters when you take his hands in yours.

“I suppose I have no choice but to accept your declaration of affection,” you declare, “it would be rather awkward if I were to turn you down.”

He pouts at you, when the lilt in your eyes assures him you are being facetious.

“…I like you too,” you tell him. 

The frenzied battering of his chest returns, but this time he is a willing victim now that he understands why.

(III MINUTES)

“What do you think you’ll name your dragon?”

You glance at him, “What makes you so sure I’ll have one?”

Jace shrugs, “They seem to like you.”

Your gaze returns to the skies, watching the dragons circling overhead.

“Some type of food, probably,” you say, after the silence spills over.

“You can’t name your dragon after something you want to eat,” he huffs a laugh.

“Your brother did that,” you counter.

“He wanted to,” Jace concedes, “but of course he wasn’t allowed to. I think he uses that name in his mind, though.”

“I’ll do that then,” you insist.

“What food, then?” He plays along, unable to help the fondness that seeps into his tone.

“I’m not sure yet,” you proclaim, “I’ll have to take inspiration from today’s meals.”

“My mother will not be happy to hear that,” he chides.

“She won’t be nearly as unhappy if Apple Pie is fierce.”

He quirks a brow, “Apple Pie?”

“First name that came to mind.”

He sits there with you, watching the dragons for a while. He can see Vermax descending beneath the sea, thrashing and drowning, already thinking and hoping for days that will soon be spent flying alongside you until the end of your lives.

Ultimately, you do not name your dragon Apple Pie, but he is indeed fierce, the only one brave enough to retaliate against Vermax. Your dragon reminds him of himself. He supposes, in that sense, that Vermax should remind him of you.

They are rarely well-behaved together, but every once in a while they enter an idyllic epoch and his mornings are spent racing with you. You are not much speedier than him on foot (rarely, do you manage to best him), but you fly much faster not fast enough on dragonback.

He has never minded losing, however, because you always do good on your promise of kissing him should he fall behind. That, he often thinks, is a reason to fly in itself.

(IV MINUTES)

When the news first comes that you are to be betrothed to Jace, he is ecstatic. 

“I cannot believe, we are to be wed!” He declares, hands gesturing excitedly as he lays in your lap.

“There will be quite a few years until then,” you remind him.

“Indeed, but we’ll be together throughout, won’t we?” He peers up at you imploringly, “That is already a source of much joy.”

Your fingers card through his locks, running through the knots, “You’re very easy to please.”

He scowls, although its effectiveness is dulled by the way he is very clearly pleased by his current position, head a familiar weight in your lap.

The fields are abundant with flowers, an ocean of color enveloping Jace. You tug at his locks absentmindedly, already considering which ones would suit his hair.

His eyes round on you from beneath, reaching up so that his fingertips graze your cheek. Your breath hitches, gaze dipping to find his. Your back rounds, in way that is likely detrimental to your posture, but it brings you closer to him.

His hand cups your cheek softly, and you reach down to muss up his hair once more. He pulls you down into a kiss, lips sweet against yours.

“Why are your eyes open?” You laugh, unable to kiss him seriously.

He pouts, “Our faces aren’t exactly aligned the same way currently. I had to aim.”

You suppress the urge to make fun of him, knowing your kissing privileges will be suspended for a week if you do, “Close your eyes, Jace. I’ll do the aiming.”

He complies, eyes slipping shut. You take a few moments to compose yourself and swallow your mirth.

Your hand reaches down to cradle his cheek, closing your own eyes beforehand and successfully finding his lips with yours.

A certain warmth expands in his chest when you kiss him, the grass tickling your fingers and the sides of your face. He reaches up blindly, clumsily finding your face as well, and pulling you down, closer.

The sea of flowers flows with the wind around the two of you, nestled in the depths of love and life. He envisions the paysage in his mind as he kisses you, and it does not seem as ridiculous as it does in books to want a moment to last forever.

(V MINUTES)

You pull away for air for a few moments, and Jace is already whining, fingers pressing into your nape in an attempt to coax you back.

“Jace…” you exhale shakily. Your eyes are dark with devotion as you press your forehead to his, panting heavily.

“Kiss me,” he murmurs, “I have never wanted to feel another’s touch as much as yours. I will die if you do not kiss me again, my love.”

Normally you would scoff at such frivolities, but instead you kiss him immediately, lips pressing against his sensually. 

His cheeks warm, and he has to bite back a sigh, kissing you back sloppily. His tongue maps out your mouth sensually. 

You let your teeth catch over his bottom lip as he pulls you closer, hands cradling his face closer to yours. It is a culmination of longing, and he thinks in that moment that he would very much like to never let you go.

(VI MINUTES)

It becomes a tradition, of sorts, to exchange bouquets every year between the two of you, reminiscent of the initial offering that started it all.

He still remembers hiding in that bush, seething with the jealousy seeing you smile at a guard all those years ago. He used to be so dramatic, he muses fondly. He is no longer sure where that guard is, but in their place another guard stands; one, who no longer needs to care about his ventures now that he is less of a child than he was before.

He meanders into the garden, this place of immense connotation. Where he used to play as a boy with Luke, where he tried his best to garden with his mother, where he confessed to you. He supposes, in a way, all of his most profound attachments were formed here. 

He gathers the flowers, arranges them cozily in a shawl his mother reluctantly allowed him to borrow after hearing his reasoning behind it. There is only one part missing.

From your end, you have decided to try your hand at pottery. Rhaenyra takes pity on your efforts after a while, and decides to oversee you as you pinch at the clay.

“Does this look like you?” You hold up the mini-Rhaenyra for the real counterpart to see, a winning smile of defeat on your face.

She tries to conceal her wince, “…I think he’ll know it’s me.”

You fumble your way through the rest, placing the general shapes of the two of you and various figures in the castle inside the bouquet.

When he receives it, he feels it is “evocative of diligence and a lack of talent in the pottery department”. He finds it adorable.

As for his, he decides to adorn it with something more this year. 

“Jace, is that—“

You scoff when he kneels with the bouquet, although it comes out far softer than you intend.

A ring is nestled between the flowers, and he watches you all doe-eyed and smiley in a way that renders it very difficult to say no to him.

“Do you take me as your husband?”

“I’m supposed to, yes,” you quip, “We’re already betrothed, Jace. You’re my husband in the makings.”

“But what if I wish to be your husband sooner?”

“Jace…”

“Marry me,” he whispers.

The next morning he flies to the Gullet.

(VII MINUTES)

Happy moments, spliced with imminent despair.

The waves seem to follow the melody of your voice, rising higher and higher until he thinks, in the last moments that he can, that he must be drowning now, as well.

“Jace,” the waves beckon to him, morphing the way water always has into your voice. He wants to reach out, to blindly follow its source, to find you again, but his lips can barely part to breathe.

His lashes fan over his cheeks, clinging wetly and sealing shut. 

His fingers go lax around the arrowhead, slipping beneath the waves. 

The nihility behind his eyelids dilates, promises him, soothes him as he curls into it the way he used to curl into you.

“Come home,” you murmur. 

Jacaerys tries to smile, heart stuttering in its coda. 

Yes, home…

Lying in the sea, the water cradling him, preserving him, until the morning comes—

At last,

he is home.

tagged. — @omgsuperstarg, @reus-ut-peccatum, @minaminallc, @claerysa

⁠♡ he'd arrive early in the morning as you were still finishing up your breakfast in the moving truck, and you'd hear that little beep beep of the horn before you peek outside, seeing your bf look overjoyed that he is driving a big boy truck, boxy smile wide as ever as he looked up at you in your window

⁠♡ "baby, take a photo of me driving the truck" as he dangles his arm out of the driver's window, his sunglasses parked on top of his fluffy hair. "do I look cool? do i look like a truck driver?"

⁠♡ "no no no baby let me get it", taehyung would keep saying to you as he rushed to carry as much as humanly possible to make the day as easy as possible for you, even if it meant making more trips

⁠♡ he would insist on you carrying less than what you're capable of because he is so worried that you might hurt your back or something by overexerting yourself

⁠♡ he'd register your names at the concierge under "Mr. and Ms. Kim" because he gets all smiley when the staff refer to you as Ms. Kim, or even better, when they accidentally call you Mrs. Kim. It's the little things.

⁠♡ standing in the empty living room with his hands up, repeatedly going "oh this would be a perfect spot for ___"

⁠♡ opening every single drawer and cabinet just to look at, and say "wow", before pointing at it to show you

⁠♡ when the physical labour started to get a little tiring, he'd roll his sleeves up his biceps and push his hair back before continuing

⁠♡ at the very end of the day, you would find him sitting cross-legged in a sea of unpacked boxes on the floor, and he'd look up at you with such a happy smile. "this is our home"

chores and tasks together

⁠♡ taehyung isn't a great cook, but he'll be glued to your side while you made dinner, offering to stir things for you, wash things for you, just be as helpful as he possibly can be while not really knowing what he's doing. he's also your little cleaner while you cooked to minimize the amount of work at the end of the meal.

⁠♡ he's a wine pourer for you as you cook 100%

⁠♡ he's a passionate dish washer, though. as soon as dinner was done, he'd collect all the dishes and bring them to the sink, not returning until the kitchen was all clean

⁠♡ "baby, I'm going to the dry cleaner's," he'd call out, while carrying a few garment bags in his arms. "do you want me to bring anything for you?"

⁠♡ he's a learning plant dad, you have a lot of plants in the windows and hallways that he was determined to keep alive

⁠♡ once a week was deep clean day, and he'd put the music up all the way as he dance-mopped the entire floor, using the handle as a mic, making silly faces at you while you folded laundry, making an otherwise mundane day feel like a date

⁠♡ you'd come home one day and he'd be sitting on the floor in the closet with a bunch of clothes all around him. "I'm cleaning out the closet again, do you still like this sweater on me? I haven't worn it in a while"

⁠♡ taehyung knew you hated touching the trash, so you never even had to think about it. that task was his and his alone, without you ever having to ask. once every other evening, he'd just quietly slip out sometime after dinner, carrying the bags out into the hall

♡ he cleans to music or to a podcast, so he'd just have the speaker going as he emptied the dishwasher or folded laundry, humming and singing to himself as he did the chores

♡ oh lots of "wait look what i learned the other day", and he shows you a new life hack for cleaning the blender or something, proud childlike grin on his face

quiet weekends/everyday life

⁠⁠⁠♡ taehyung's in his glasses and fluffy unstyled hair all weekend, just his sweet darling bare face in your shared home

♡ lots of his and hers items: toothbrush holders, mugs, towels, slippers. he made sure there was visible evidence of your love everywhere

♡ he would hang your jackets together and tie his sleeves around your jacket to make it look like you were hugging

⁠♡ "honey," he'd come over to find you before showing you a new song he discovered. "good, right? this artist is so talented."

⁠♡ he wasn't a big napper, but he thought it was so cute when you did. he'd see you yawn from across the room just after lunch time. "time for her nap? let's bring you to bed"

⁠♡ lots and lots of reading side by side, a jazz vinyl playing softly in the background, no words exchanged, just your legs over his lap as the two of you co-existed, sometimes sharing a snack, which he insisted you feed him

⁠♡ walks with him always came with his wide smile and little coos every time a cute dog walked by, followed immediately by "should we get a dog?"

⁠♡ taehyung doesn't drink coffee, but he'd be gone and back from your favourite cafe before you had even fully woken up, with your go-to order, still warm in the to go cup. his favourite way to wake you up on Saturdays

⁠♡ lots of dinner on the coffee table with the TV on, watching your favourite YouTube video essays together, learning about things like 'why dust collects in a home' or 'you're storing your vegetables wrong'

♡ he'd come home every once in a while with a new activity for you to do together. "i got us a puzzle" or "have you ever tried watercolour painting? i thought we could try it this weekend"

⁠evenings after work

⁠♡ taehyung always asked for and memorized your schedule for the week. on nights you would get home late, takeout was already sitting for you on the table, with the table set, a candle lit and your favourite show paused on TV

⁠♡ he'd rush to greet you at the door every night. "hi darling," and he'd grab your bag off your shoulder immediately, hanging your jacket for you. "how was your day?"

⁠♡ some nights he'd come home later than you, and he'd still have takeout in his hands that he picked up on the way home because he takes care of you, no matter what

⁠♡ "what time do you have to be up tomorrow?" because he wants to sleep and wake up with you as often as possible⁠

⁠♡ extra tiring, long days earned the ritual of showering together, washing up together, and then watching a TV show or movie in complete silence. comfortable but quiet.

♡ he'd text you when he was about twenty minutes from home with "20 mins until I get a kiss" or something equally as cheesy like that

♡ sometimes you'd get home and he'd be on game with friends, but his headphones would always slide off one ear, he'd mute his mic, "hi baby, how was your day? come give me a kiss, i just died"

♡ on extra long days for him, you'd rush in to hug him at the door and he'd squirm and run away from you, "no no darling I'm so sweaty and gross, can't let my girlfriend know I smell"

♡ you two would try your best to maintain the ritual of a date night every two weeks at minimum. Taehyung would pack a change of clothes in his car that day so he'd still look good for you coming right from work straight to the restaurant. and every once in a while, he'd arrive with flowers (which: how, he just came straight from work)

♡ every night ended the same: washing up together, getting ready for bed together, brushing your teeth next to each other, and then getting into bed together before you joint scrolled through your social media feeds to show each other the funny things you saw throughout the day

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔