#like that I’m saying that as I’ve attended a service since I was a child | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

honeymoonjin · 2 years

Text

Pairing: Taehyung x reader, Jungkook x Taehyung

Genre: Romance, a splash of angst

Summary: Raised on a faraway island with no trace of modern life, Kim Taehyung must be the most isolated man on the planet. And perhaps you’re the most naive person for choosing to leave the world behind and join him.

Word count: 30.8k

AN: the location where this fic takes place is fictional, as well as any historical facts presented. Mentions of violence on a large scale, not done by or involving the main characters. The title comes from the phrase which means “a clean slate” or the lack of preconceived ideas. I originally heard it from a Bjork song by the same name which talks about wanting to give her child and children in general a clean slate from the “fuck-ups of the fathers”. You’ll see that both these themes play pretty heavily in this fic.

You swallow down the knot in your throat as the bespectacled man in front of you reads leisurely through your resume, one hand mulling at his chin.

“You’re currently unemployed?”

You start at the sudden question, but dip your head in a hasty nod. “That’s right, sir.” Your eyes roam over him as he makes no indication of acknowledgement bar a single deep breath, flipping over the single page. You knew your stats weren’t particularly impressive; you’d been shocked when the agency had even responded to your application in the first place, desperate enough to apply but without any real hope of employment. Now, with your apartment lease coming up and no money to extend it, you were terrified that you might mess it up.

“As you know, the job listing asked for candidates with a versatile skill set,” the man begins, focusing a sharp gaze on you.

You shift. “Well, uh, I’m very proficient in Microsoft Office 365, I’ve had a lot of customer service experience and also-”

With a twitch of his brow, the grey-haired man swiftly cuts you off. “I had one of my men attend your most recent performance at the Blue Velvet Lounge,” he states, leaning back in his leather chair to appraise your reaction.

It takes you a moment to even decipher him, as simple as his sentence was. In all the years you’d helped out at your friend’s club, you never considered playing the piano in the background as performing, though that wasn’t the part your mind was snagged on. “I- That wasn’t in my resume, sir.”

“Neither was your home address or lack of familial relations, but home security tends to find these things out.” Your eyes dart to the door of the office, still shut but not locked, and the interviewer lets out a hollow laugh. “I’m not saying this to threaten or intimidate you, Miss. But this job is very high clearance and we take our application process very seriously. Tell me; how long have you played the piano?”

“Since I was seven.” You try to take a deep breath in to steady your racing heart and your unanchored thoughts, but your lungs won’t seem to fill. “Why does the national security program need a pianist? I’m not even that good, I’ve never won any competitions or played in any proper orchestras-”

“Having any kind of renowned or famous individual in this role wouldn’t serve our purposes,” he answers shortly, avoiding the half of the question you were more curious to know. Instead, he reaches into a briefcase at his feet and pulls out several sheets of paper, stapled together. Laying it on the table and pushing it towards you, you recognise the title. “An NDA,” he explains, “like I said, this job is very high clearance. No unauthorised information can be taken in or let out. Even if you don’t accept the job, I cannot tell you more without this contract signed.”

Once he falls silent, you stare at him for a few moments, but he simply gestures wordlessly to the printed pages, until you pick them up and begin to read through. For the most part, it follows the regular beats of a non-disclosure agreement, but with a few mysterious additions. If you turned down the job, you’d be kept on surveillance for the rest of your life to ensure you didn’t expose details of the position. If you accepted it, the same would happen once you returned home upon completion of your contract.

“This is ridiculous,” you murmur, frowning at the document in front of you. “I’d be signing my entire right of privacy away.”

The man across from you is emotionless. “That’s why most people don’t sign.”

You narrow your eyes. “This isn’t seeming remotely worth it. Besides, the ad never stated the pay, only that it was above living wage.”

He nods once, hands interlaced on the table. “Our rate is twice the living wage.”

“That’s not even that much for what, a year’s contract? And then I’m back under Big Brother.”

“For the rest of your life-” he specifies. “Our rate is twice the living wage for the rest of your life. Of course, you’d be well within your right to still get another job should you continue to wish to work after that time. As a courtesy, we’d waive secondary income taxes.”

Goosebumps run down your body like a cold wave, and you attempt again to take in a deep breath. “So- you- this-” You clear your throat, eyes unable to leave the dotted line on the final page, awaiting your signature. “What’s the catch? Will I be in danger?”

“Not at all,” your potential employer responds. “Most people simply aren’t willing to comply with our requirements for privacy, so they don’t believe the reward is worth the risk. I’ll leave that choice up to you.” He reaches into the pocket of his pale blue button-down, retrieving a pen which he rests on the table beside your hand.

Almost instinctively, your fingers flex towards it, before pausing. “How– how long has it been since you’ve hired someone? This isn’t the first time I’ve seen your ad, it’s just the first time I’ve been desperate enough to apply.”

A muscle in his jaw pops as he fights a frown. “He’s been alone for three and a half years.” His mouth audibly claps shut after he’s finished, bushy brows furrowing together as if he’s said too much.

He? You can’t deny your curiosity is overwhelming. The job listing had indicated that you’d be working in a separate location outside the country, though it was never specified, and you knew you’d have to christen the NDA with ink before you’d find out.

It’s not curiosity that emboldens you to pick up the pen, however. The strongest emotion in your chest as you sign your future to them is empathy. He’s been alone for three and a half years.

For the first time since you’d sat down across from him, the man smiles. Age crackles the skin around his eyes as he does so, but it brightens his features and you naturally return it as he stretches his arm out to you for a handshake. “Jung Minhyuk. A pleasure to finally be introduced.” You give him a warm smile, but your lack of reaction otherwise makes him chuckle sheepishly. “Sorry, I should be more specific. I’m the director of the Korean National Intelligence Service. Y/n, we’d be happy to have you. Come.”

He releases the firm handshake with a quick bow and gestures towards the door of his office, leading you out. As you make your way through a narrow hallway, ducking around harried office workers with handfuls of photocopying or phones tucked between their ear and shoulder, you can’t help but feel a little confused.

Director Jung, surprisingly personable for his high ranking, notices the way you frown at the nondescript facility, and feints back to walk at your side, leaning in with a low, conspiratory voice. “This isn’t our headquarters, of course, we’re not even in the right country! Every now and again, we move offices to a new city if we find no luck in the current one. To be honest, I really shouldn’t even be here, but I just feel more comfortable handling recruitment for this myself. You’ll understand, I’m sure. Here; this way.”

Though you certainly don’t understand, and are beginning to feel a little overwhelmed, the director’s complete change of personality is actually rather reassuring, like he’s genuinely appreciative of your willingness to sign. You follow him into a meeting room down the end of the office floor, where a much younger man awaits, fiddling with an overhead projector and a battered-looking laptop. He looks up when the door shuts behind the two of you, and beams. Immediately, you can see a striking resemblance between the two of them in the slope of their nose and their bright smiles. Though the director’s hair is grey with age, the young man has rich brown locks, cropped short on the sides but hanging over his brow a little.

“Y/n, I’d like you to meet your liaison for this job, and my son, Jung Hoseok.”

You reach out for a handshake, which he grabs with both hands and shakes enthusiastically, greeting you before indicating you could take a seat. His father doesn’t sit, instead bidding the two of you farewell, leaving Hoseok to lock the door and join you at the table.

“What a day, huh!” He laughs, eyes crinkling into crescent moons. “We were certain this would be a bust. It’s been so long since anyone has even taken this offer up. I don’t blame them, of course, but boy are they missing out!”

You let out a surprised laugh at the bold energy the director’s son has, before he clears his throat and pulls up the first slide onto a screen at the front of the room. It’s simply a long code of letters and numbers, presumably pertaining to the job you’d be filling, and Hoseok stands up, brushing his blazer lapel and taking a decisive huff of air.

“Okay, please excuse any technical difficulties that may arise, it’s been a very long time since this laptop has been taken out. We don’t even bother, usually, since everyone says no, but you were our most promising candidate in a while.”

You tip your head to the side. “Why is that? I thought I was pretty underqualified for a government job.”

Hoseok pauses, biting onto his lip. “Uh… No offence to you, but the people that apply are usually already in a well-paying government job, and their stability makes them more risk averse. Dad thought that your money struggles and low qualifications would make you more likely to take a chance on us. Sorry.”

Blinking, you try to let the stab of indignation go, focusing on the presentation slide. “Right. That’s... okay. I am looking forward to getting some answers, though.”

“Oh! Yes, of course!” Hoseok hurriedly flicks through a couple of official-looking slides bunched with legal text and classified stamps until he stops on a grainy photo of a rather large, official-looking building with Korean signage, one corner of the building orange with flame, and billowing grey smoke pouring out of the windows everywhere else. Hoseok sobers up, frowning at the picture. “How well do you know your history?” he asks softly.

“Not well,” you admit, your voice going quiet to instinctively match his.

“April 12th, 1996. The President of South Korea at the time, Im Do-kwon, gets re-elected for another term. His competitor, Kim Sanghoon, claims the vote is fraudulent and hires three men to go into the Blue House where the President is residing and set fire to it. This was all meant to be concealed, of course, but his involvement is revealed, as well as the fact that the three men were gang affiliated. News stations begin digging over those long hours that it takes to extinguish the fire, and as more and more evidence of Kim’s alignment with that gang is revealed, he goes into a rage.”

Your heart falls into your stomach as Hoseok solemnly moves to the following side, a snapshot from a news outside, as a Korean reporter stands outside an elementary school covered in yellow police tape. “Oh my god,” you whisper without thinking, veins cold with dread.

“Instead of hiring more gang members - who by now are laying low and trying to avoid all interactions with the man - Kim takes his pyromaniac tendencies to the elementary school where the President’s children are. The school had been put on lockdown. All the children were still inside. Less than thirty survived the blaze, mostly teachers.”

It takes a steady breath and biting down hard on your tongue to prevent the urge to be sick, and your heart breaks when you see Hoseok dabbing at his eyes, sniffling slightly.

“Anyway,” he says in a hollow voice, quickly clicking away from the slide, where a family photo appears of a mother and father, the former cradling a swaddled newborn. “Kim was shot on sight by police once he aimed a firearm at the squad cars arriving, but he left behind a wife and infant son. A mid-ranking member in the NIS went to their home address to see the news playing on their television, and the wife dead in front of it. She’d suffered a fatal heart attack. The infant was still in his crib.”

Hoseok sinks into his chair again, eyes glazing over slightly as he recalls the story. “That NIS officer was my father. He’d been working up for the Director role for years at that point. Was close to the current one, too. The regular protocol would be to put the son up for adoption, or even into witness protection with a willing caregiver, but dad didn’t want to take that risk. If the son ever found out, or if anyone found out where the son was, his life would either be ruined or he’d be killed in some form of revenge. The president was very well-loved, you see. The fire hadn’t killed him, but the smoke in his lungs was severe enough that he never recovered, and didn’t even survive until the following election.”

“What happened to him?” you ask hoarsely. “I still don’t understand why you’re telling me this.”

“That son is in his late 20s now. We’re hiring you, Y/n, to teach him how to play the piano.”

You shake your head, disbelief resounding in your head. “I- what is going on? Where is he, how is he…”

“Still alive?” Hoseok reaches forward to change slides again. This one is an aerial shot of an island, lush with vegetation, from the single peak in the centre to the beaches that ring it. To the bottom of the island is what looks like a fairly large building, though you can’t make out much detail from the distance. “I-134340. Its original intention was to be an emergency location for any high ranking members of the Korean government if needed, but it was replaced with a more secure base in the early 90s. My father and the old director decided that the best way to give the son a full life was to remove him from the society that would be a danger to him. To keep him unaware of the crimes of his father. A small team of operatives that had experience in child rearing raised him until he was old enough to fend for himself, and since then we’ve been sending in people such as yourself with a skill to keep him occupied and, hopefully, creatively fulfilled.”

Your mouth falls open. Part of you feels like you’re in some absurd prank show, or a social experiment, but it’s so hard for you to believe that on that island, a man is all alone, entirely removed from the rest of the world. “So he just has to live his life out there forever? Wouldn’t he want to leave? Be a part of society?”

Hoseok knits his eyebrows together, more somber than ever. “He- He doesn’t know modern society even exists.”

“What?”

“There’s no cell service, of course, no internet connection. But the base was originally built without any computers or even electricity to prevent any form of hacking. For our purposes, it’s safer that he has no grasp of current technology.”

You’re beginning to realise why the NDA was so oppressive. “That’s- that’s inhumane, keeping him in the dark ages like that!”

Hoseok’s brows furrow in sympathy. “It’s the best chance at a life we can give him. Ignorance is bliss. We send shipments of resources every two months. He has pets there to keep him company, he’s been taught several languages, including English and his native tongue, we’ve given him several books written before the modern age. He has access to a whole orchestra worth of instruments, we even allowed a record player for music. It’s not ideal, but…”

Hoseok grimaces suddenly, eying the locked door before leaning in closer to you. “It was intended to be temporary,” he admits in a low tone. “Just enough until there was some other disaster, or the world moved on. But South Korea is a relatively peaceful country, and the old director and my father underestimated just how hated Kim was. We haven’t even managed to hire a single person from South Korea to keep the son company. We don’t think they’re ever going to forget. So we have to stick with it, and give him the best life we can.”

“So you want me to go babysit a man who thinks it’s the 1800s or something? Teach him Mary Had a Little Lamb on the piano but act like I’ve never seen a light bulb before. Is that it?”

He sighs, sinking backwards into the desk chair. “My empathy keeps me working here, Y/n. I feel bad for the guy. He’s only a few years younger than me, and he’s living in his own fucked up version of the Truman Show. So I do what I can to make sure he’s happy there. Was it just financial need that made you sign that document, Y/n? Or are you willing to follow through to give him the right of human connection?”

“Do you have a photo of him?” you ask weakly, already half-knowing your answer. Already beginning to accept that you can’t just walk away. All you need is something real to keep you holding on.

Hoseok clears his throat and nods quickly, scrolling through a few slides of text that you don’t have time to read, before he stops on a black-and-white photo, slightly fuzzy at the edges. “Nothing digital, of course. This is from about six years ago, when we hired a German amateur photographer to bring this boxy old camera on stilts and teach him how to use it. Quite the looker, isn’t he?”

That he is, with raven-black curls, a sculpted face, and graceful poise, chin tipped up almost defiantly at the camera. But it’s not his good looks but rather the depths of his eyes that capture you. It’s a little hard to see with the low quality of the imagine, but his gaze is dim with sorrow. Your heart clenches. “When do I leave?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Hoseok simply smiles for the first time in a few minutes, gratitude plain on his face. “Let’s get you ready.”

In the end, it takes several weeks before you’re allowed to board the ship that will take you to the island.

First, there’s the issue of basic survival. Kim Taehyung, the son raised in isolation, is used to living without electricity, without internet or microwaves or televisions. You, however, spend your first week on the job reading a hefty book on all the items you’ll have access to and how to live off them: cooking, washing, entertaining yourself - you’d need to learn to live without modernity.

Next, you spent a day being measured for new clothes. Taehyung wasn’t exactly dressing like a Victorian aristocrat, Hoseok quipped, but jeans certainly weren’t going to cut it. A lone seamstress specialising in historical garments was hired to fit you some dresses, tops, skirts, all the way down to a few nightgowns and underwear. All simple things for your benefit, blessedly with no corsets in sight, but once they were done you still had to spend some time getting used to dressing and undressing, and lifting your skirts when you walked. The little things, you were informed, were just as important in maintaining the fiction Kim Taehyung was living in.

Finally, you were tested on your proficiency in basic history and general knowledge, things that might come up. The last person to visit the island - a violinist - informed the NIS director that Taehyung was an avid reader, often requesting new novels when his shipments came, and that he would spend hours alone in his room, listening to his old record player late into the night. Like cramming for a test, you read the Sparknotes of Jules Verne, Shakespeare, Dickens; you spammed your Spotify with the likes of Mozart, Chopin, Vivaldi. You even spent one night googling popular painters from the 1800s.

As it happened, Taehyung hadn’t been given access to anything made later than 1879, and - where possible - any identification of the date of production had been removed. You’d been warned, about a quarter of the way into your information packet, not to mention any specific dates or times, and to not bring up politics or history whatsoever.

Shipments to the island came every two months. One would bring you on it, then you’d have two throughout your stay, and finally the fourth would bring you home. That meant if you wanted to communicate to Hoseok or anyone else while on the island, you’d have to write a letter (away from Taehyung’s eyes) and slip it to the ship’s captain when he came. If there was an emergency between times, nobody would help them, so you were highly discouraged from taking part in any risky activities.

By the time you’re shivering in the brisk winter breeze, stepping onto a docked ship, it’s been just under a month since you accepted the offer, and it still doesn’t feel real.

Pausing to tug his heavy coat around himself tighter, Hoseok - with his feet firmly planted on the dock - reaches out to pull you into a tight hug. You shift within his grip with the slight rocking of the ship, having to hunch over to match his level.

He’d been with you in every step of your training, and you had found it impossible not to become extremely endeared with him. You mumble a thanks into the lapel of his coat and he hums in acknowledgement.

“I wish we had more time to ease you into this,” he confesses, his breath hot on your neck. “But I know you’ll be just fine.” Hoseok squeezes you even tighter for just a moment before pulling away, giving you a sad smile. “Please be safe. I’ll be thinking of you.”

“Likewise,” you admit, a curl of sadness sinking in your stomach at the thought of being separated from your newfound friend so soon after growing close to him. “I’ll be alright. I’ll look after him.”

Hoseok lets out a light laugh, resting his hand on the edge of the ship like he’s not quite ready to part with it. “I’m sure you will. Besides, if you need me, or need anything, just write a letter and give it to Seokjin. He’ll pass it on.”

You cock your head in confusion. “Seokjin?”

The voice that responds comes from behind you as Hoseok’s eyes lift above your shoulder. “At your service, Miss.”

You whirl around just as the newcomer presses himself beside you, your chests almost touching. He’s dashingly handsome, the type of good looks you’d expect to see on the screen or stage, but his overalls are so worn the buckles have rusted, his rubber boots are scuffed, and his hands as they reach past you are roughened with callouses.

As you suck in a breath and press yourself further onto the side of the entrance, he quirks both his brows at you with a cheeky smile. “‘pologies for reaching past you,” he drawls, beginning to undo the snag of rope coiled around a post on the dock. “We’re just about ready to set sail, little lady, so I’d suggest you find yerself somewhere comfortable to sit. Best spot is down that ladder there. I’m Jin, by the way. The Captain of this here vessel.”

You feel distinctly like you’ve stepped into another time with the way he acts and speaks, and your linen dress, high-necked and heavy-skirted, certainly doesn’t help.

It’s only the noise of Hoseok scoffing fondly and reaching forward to clap the captain on the shoulder that breaks you out of your momentary daze. In a sleek designer coat and modern undercut, he’s the dash of the real world that you need. “Come on now,” he chuffs, “you can drop the Ye Olde English. Let the poor girl adjust.”

Jin’s face lights up with a mischievous grin, all too proud at himself, but drops it with a sigh. When he speaks again, his voice is clear and airy like daylight, and you find it suits him far better. “Alright, sweetheart. Get out of the cold; I’ll get us on the way.”

You and Hoseok share one final farewell, before you hoist up your skirts in one hand and make your way to the aforementioned ladder. It’s one of two entrances on the ship’s deck; the first is a trapdoor swung open near the front, revealing what looks like crates and barrels stacked high, no doubt bringing necessary supplies to the island. The other, near the back, is a narrow opening with a wooden ladder disappearing down. It’s an effort to maneuver down the rungs with one hand free, unable to see your feet past the layers of fabric, but you manage, turning around to see the small cabin you’ve landed in.

It’s simple and cosy, retaining warmth far better than the deck, and you waste no time in finding a place to sit. There are two small couches on opposite sides of the room, with a short, bolted down table between them. One is clearly Jin’s, covered with piled up blankets, a ragged teddy bear and some strewn clothes. You chose to sit on the other couch, slipping off your brown leather shoes after a moment to tuck your feet up, sighing at the comfort it brings you.

Like you already have countless times today, you begin to grow overwhelmed at what lies ahead, at what you’ve agreed to do. Your few suitcases you’d been allowed to bring were in the hull already with the rest of the supplies, and you’d had to leave your cellphone with Hoseok in the car before you boarded. More so than anything else, it’s the lack of a phone in your hands or near you that draws up your anxiety, and you have to force deep breaths into your lungs to stay calm.

The ship begins to shift, and you turn your head to watch the single round window that lights the room as the coast slips out of view, replaced by an endless blue horizon. Thankfully the rhythmic rocking of the ship, as well as the acceptance of that open ocean, soothes you for the first hour or so.

By the time Jin joins you, you’re so relaxed that his loud entrance - skipping the rungs and just jumping straight down into the cabin - is enough to make you jump.

“She’s looking smooth out there,” he comments happily, launching himself back-first onto his couch, with his boots dangling off one end and his head propped on a pillow. “How you feeling, little lady?”

Even as he drops the cheesy accent, he keeps that nickname, and it has you smiling as you shrug. An automatic ‘good’ is on the tip of your tongue, but you pause, unable to commit to the lie. You lapse into silence trying to think of a satisfactory answer, barely able to navigate your own emotions, but Jin seems satisfied with the lack of response.

“It was like that for me too, don’t worry. It gets easier.” He lets out a fond breath, propping himself up on an elbow. “I started out just like you, going over for a short stint. He was nineteen, and he’d requested to learn fishing, since the island has some nice spots. I was hired, a poor fisherman’s poorer son. Someone talented enough but unremarkable. Mind you, I wasn’t much older than Taehyung at the time.”

Your interest is peaked, this being the first time you’d had the chance to speak to someone who’d walked the same path you were setting out on. “What was he like? Taehyung.”

“Mischief,” Jin responds without hesitation, eyes glazing over with memory. “Kept sneaking up on me to give me a fright, put too much pepper into my meals just to make me sneeze, or played music that he knew I didn’t like right into the early hours of the morning. Even grew better at fishing than me, the cheeky bugger.”

You think back to the black-and-white picture of Taehyung, with a serious face and lonely eyes. It’s hard to imagine him playing practical jokes, but Jin talks about it with so much love in his voice that you don’t doubt it for a second.

“Smart, too,” he continues, oblivious of whether you’re even still listening, “could quote Shakespeare like nobody’s business. He picked up on what I was teaching him just about faster than I could even teach it. We spent many of our evenings playing chess together, as his last instructor had brought him a set. I never won a single game.”

“He sounds like a really good person,” you say softly, not wanting to break Jin’s reverie.

He hums, eyes still distant. “I was meant to be signed onto a three month contract, get my money, and get outta there. But I found I just couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him. I extended my contract to a year, and when I ultimately had to go, I replaced the old captain and took up the shipping route. But it’s been almost a year since I’ve seen him. He just stands at his balcony when I deliver the supplies, far enough away that I can only just see his silhouette.” Jin sits up suddenly, eyes focusing in on you with a sharp stare. “I’m so glad you accepted this job, Y/n. I worry about how much time he’s been alone.”

You frown, brows furrowing. “How can you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Play along,” you explain, “keep him in the dark. He deserves a chance to live in the real world with the rest of us.”

“I suppose he does,” Jin says with a shrug, “but I don’t have the power to go against the South Korean national intelligence. The only options I had were to walk away, or to play along. I chose the latter. So did you.”

You remain silent, mulling over his words. He doesn’t state them with any judgemental inflection, but you still feel a bloom of doubt in your chest.

“I chose to play along because I felt sorry for him. I chose to play along because I couldn’t imagine how lonely he would be if nobody did.”

“That’s a nice way of looking at it,” you admit, voice barely more than a whisper. Clearing your throat, you try and lift your mood about by thinking about something else. “By the way, how long is the journey to the island? Hoseok didn’t tell me its location for privacy purposes.”

Jin laughs, throwing an arm up over the back of the couch, tipping his head to the side to rest on it. “Get comfy,” he states, “because you’re sitting on your bed for the night.”

Despite the tumultuous thoughts in your mind, the ocean outside is peaceful, rocking gently enough to lull you to sleep. Jin lends you a blanket, though your heavy skirts are weight enough. He doesn’t change either, accidentally waking you briefly at different points at the night from the noise of him getting up to check the ship’s bearings.

Apart from those hazy moments of consciousness, you sleep deeply, and it takes you a few moments upon waking properly to realise where you are. As your body is wracked with the urge to stretch - careful not to pop the handmade stitching in the dress - you can’t help but let out a deep yawn, fingers finding your hair to comb it down.

“Hot cocoa?”

You jump, not having heard the captain’s return to the cabin. He’s holding what looks like a thermos made entirely from lacquered wood, cupping it with his bare hands.

Taking your silence in stride, Jin sends you a sheepish smile. “Well, moreso lukewarm cocoa. But it’ll do the job. You need some more colour in your cheeks, little lady.”

You accept it gratefully, popping a cork on the top and pausing before you take a sip. “Do you want some?”

He makes a show of waving the suggestion off humbly, jumping back onto his couch with a graceful smile. “Ah, no need,” he deflects in a warm voice, “I drank my flask when it was still piping hot. Captain’s privileges.”

“I see,” you quip with a playful frown, but happily take a deep swig of the drink. It’s still just hot enough to warm your insides, and the creamy chocolate lingers on your tongue. “Oh my god, are you sure you don’t wanna stay on the island with us? This is incredible.”

He puffs up proudly, the tips of his ears turning pink with the praise. “I’ve packed some of the chocolate mix in the crate with the flour and spices. Just get in there before Taehyung does; he downs the stuff like nobody’s business.”

The reminder of your sole companion for the next six months sobers you up. You take another sip of the drink, savouring its taste. “How much longer to get there?”

Jin beams, patting his thighs before he stands up, tilting his head back the way he came. “Come up and see for yourself.”

The moment your head breaches the level of the deck, it’s like you’re entering an entirely new world. Unlike the port you left from, the air here feels alive with warmth and salt spray. You must have travelled closer to the equator, the sun tinting the world in gold, the sea a brilliant turquoise.

But it’s not just the open ocean that captures your attention. As you steady your feet on the main floor of the deck, rushing towards the front, you’re faced with a vast island, far bigger than you’d anticipated. The port that greets you is roughly U-shaped, the island curling around it and rising higher at the back, like a fortune cookie. You can’t see beyond the green peaks, and wonder if there’s more to see on the other side. For now, you happily spend the remaining time it takes Jin to pull in to dock basking in the views.

Almost more impressive than the island itself is the building on top of it. Though it doesn’t look too wieldy from your vantage point, it seems to have four rows of windows on its front face. It’s closer to the coast than the low mountain range, but boasts a long gravel driveway, surrounded by overgrown gardens and orchards on either side. If you squint, you can just make out, on the third floor, an ornate white balcony in the centre of the building. There’s no silhouette there to greet you.

The reminder that there was someone living in there, that you’d be living with him for the next several months, has your heart racing. You quell your nerves with a huff of salted air and turn to Jin as he mans the wheel - carved wood with bulbous spokes, like something off a pirate’s ship - with a single hand.

He smiles at you, at the overwhelmed look on your face. “Quite something, isn’t it? Never gets old.”

“The house is… not what I was expecting,” you muse, turning around to take it in again. With sunbleached white detailing, a terracotta shingled roof, and delicate pale brickwork on the corners of the building, it looks more like an old Italian villa than anything. “I thought this was originally a secret Korean base or something.”

“Was indeed,” Jin says easily, smoothly turning the wheel to bank the ship left slightly, on track to slot beside the sizeable wharf. “If you were a drone or an army pilot flying over this you wouldn’t exactly think it was a Korean base at all, though, would you?”

“Definitely not,” you answer immediately, before letting the words sink in. “Oh.”

The laugh Jin lets out is hearty, tipping his chin back slightly. “Exactly. Besides, works well for its current use too. It would be a little more hard to mask all technology if it was a high-tech military base.”

You hum in acknowledgement, bracing yourself as the right side of the hull bumps gently against the wharf and settles in. Jin abandons the wheel in favour of tethering the vessel, and you feel your nerves rise again, so suddenly and totally that your knees wobble beneath you.

It’s easy enough to keep your hands occupied, though. First you grab your own luggage from down below, depositing it on the wharf. Jin insists that you can start exploring, but a part of you isn’t ready just yet, so instead you bargain with him to help unload the supplies.

For the next half an hour or so, your job is to drag the crates and barrels to the entrance, helping Jin lift them out and carry them off the ship. It’s slow going, but you know he’s given you the easy job. From the increasingly disappointed look on his face, there’s still no sign of Taehyung.

It’s not until the storage cabin in the ship is hollow again, and the two of you step onto solid land, that you turn to him in worry. “Do you think something bad happened?”

Jin waves it off, but he can’t deflect the genuine concern in his eyes. “Ah, I bet he saw me and figured there was nothing new. Normally I’ll leave the supplies here and set sail back home again; gives him some exercise, lugging them up to the house, and god knows I don’t need it. But just in case, let me give you a hand, yeah? We can do the necessities first.”

You pick out your luggage and Jin selects a crate of eggs and long-life milk to go under one arm, some salted meat under the other, and rolls a barrel in front of him, one kick at a time. It’s a long way up to the double doors of the massive house, and the only sounds around you are the crunch of gravel, your pants of exertion, and the seabirds calling out, swooping high above you.

At one point you swear you see a person standing at the balcony, but a second glance, and he’s already gone, though a tall white curtain billows gently in the breeze.

You frown, tipping your head to the side as you force your feet to keep making headway. Was the window open before?

You dismiss it, striking up small talk with Jin about what he’d do upon returning to the mainland, but you’re a third of the way from the sprawling house when a hoot and a bang make you jump.

Directly in front of you, the double doors of the house have been slammed wide open, and a slender, dark-haired figure takes bounding leaps, running towards you with his arms in the air.

“Oh my god,” you murmur instinctively, not prepared for this kind of reception, but Jin just laughs heartily, voice rich with relief.

“That’s what I thought!” Jin shouts to the quickly approaching man. “Get your ass over here!”

Taehyung is clad in what looks like a satin robe over matching pyjamas, catching the breeze behind him like a cape. He’s barefoot, and you wince at the unflinching way he sprints, bare feet crunching on the gravel. You can vaguely recognise his face from that blurry photograph you saw back home, but he looks so different now, not just with longer, naturally curly hair, but with the broad grin and lively eyes that run over the two of you as he closes the gap between you.

When he finally arrives, he just about tackles Jin with the force of his hug, forcing the man to awkwardly drop the cases under his arms. Even past your bewilderment at the sudden warm welcome, you don’t miss the way Jin’s eyes mist over, the way he tightens the hug and tucks his chin on the man’s shoulder.

“It’s been too long, old friend,” Taehyung murmurs, so low that you’re taken off guard by the honeyed rumble of his voice. His face is angelic, almost cherubic, yet he sounds straight out of a silky noir. But his words aren’t meant for you, instead burrowing his face deeper into Jin’s chest.

“And whose fault is that?” Jin reprimands, no acid in his voice. “I’m so glad to see you out here again, Tae. I worry, you know.”

You barely make out Taehyung’s acknowledgement, muffled by Jin’s overalls, but when he pulls away, hair poking up above his ear on one side, his eyes find yours. His lips open but no sound comes out, his eyes suddenly crinkling and cheeks heating like a shy child.

“I know, I know,” Jin lets out with a sigh, “I’m not the only pretty face you came to greet.”

Taehyung’s eyes, swimming with bridled curiosity, don’t leave yours for a second even as he addresses his friend. “You found one,” he remarks in wonder, taking a hesitant step forward. “I did wonder if they’d given up on sending me tutors.”

“Hey,” the fisherman rebuffs gently, “we wouldn’t leave you alone, Tae. We were trying to find a really good one, I promise. Go on; introduce yourself.”

This makes the younger man perk up, humming when Jin reaches out to dislodge the stray curl of Taehyung’s hair, letting it join the rest. Taehyung waits until he’s done and then bows deeply to you, eyes seeking yours out again sweetly. “My name is Taehyung,” he divulges warmly, and crooks a hand back to gesture the way he came. “This is my humble abode, where you’ll stay with me.”

Smothering a grin at Jin’s scoff, you return the favour and introduce yourself as well, dipping into a quick bow to be polite.

Taehyung’s eyes glimmer with every word, leaning forward further. “Are you a philosopher by chance?”

“I- No, I’m not,” you answer, seeing him deflate. “Sorry.”

His mouth curls in a displeased pout, turning to Jin. “I asked for a philosopher.”

“Namjoon promised to return in a few years’ time, once his children are old enough to attend their schooling. You wouldn’t want to disrupt that, would you? The two of you got along well, I thought.”

Taehyung huffs slightly, though the fight has left him. “That’s true. I keep asking him to post me some photographs, but he never does.”

Jin grimaces. “The twins can’t seem to sit still long enough for a photo to develop, I’m afraid. All his attempts come out blurry.”

“Still,” Taehyung offers up redundantly with a sigh. “Anyway!” he exclaims, turning to you with a clap. “What do you do?”

“I’m a pianist,” you offer up, the phrase still feeling like a lie. “I brought some sheet music with me, too. Liszt’s newest concerto, among others.”

Again, the lie is bitter on your tongue. Newest is over a hundred years old, but Taehyung lets out a cheer like a child on Christmas morning, and all of a sudden a warm hand is clasping yours, tugging you towards the house as he begins listing off the other Liszt pieces in his collection, and what instruments he can play them on.

As you’re pulled up the long driveway, you crane your neck back, where Jin is beginning to lug the boxes up behind you. Guilt flares up, but he catches your eye and waves you off, sending you a friendly wink.

With Taehyung’s undying enthusiasm for music narrating your trip, it’s not long before the rough textured gravel evens out into polished stone, the pavilion in front of the double doors to the sprawling estate.

You have to tilt your head back to see the roof, slicing into the blue sky, and you imagine it would be a long walk to reach either end of the building if you started from the middle. “All this for one person,” you muse breathily, taken aback by the mammoth in front of you.

Taehyung just shrugs, delicate fingers playing on the gold-plated doorknob. “I like to stretch out when I sleep.”

A surprised laugh bubbles up, and the quip is enough to break any lasting anxiety inside you, taken over by that sweet thrum of excitement. You were getting paid to live here, in this gorgeous house on this gorgeous island with a-

You flush, tugging your eyes away from the dark-haired boy in front of you. Get a grip. “I’d love a tour, but I think we should help Jin with the luggage, perhaps,” you offer up as way of self-distraction.

“Ah,” Taehyung replies shortly, “you make an excellent point. Very well, let’s assist. Only-” He clears his throat, the bronze of his cheeks turning dusty pink. “I would prefer to go put some shoes on first.”

By the time all the barrels, boxes and battered suitcases are sitting on the parquet floor of the entryway, you’re longing for the comfort of air conditioning. Jin makes his leave quietly, giving you a tight hug and Taehyung a tighter one. It feels so sudden, leaving the island far emptier, but it’s too hot to stand on the dock and wave off the receding ship.

Instead, you make do with the shade inside, letting Taehyung lead the two of you to a kitchen on the opposite side of the house, towards the back.

Like something out of a period piece film, the kitchen is rather rustic but overly large, with a wooden island in the middle wide enough to be a table of its own. Hanging on hooks in the doorway are strings of chili, garlic and onion, and Taehyung ducks around them with practiced ease. Inside, a stone oven appears to be the most modern addition. One door leads to a pantry; another is closed, perhaps the entrance to a cellar. The rest of the kitchen is simply bench space and a dining area, with only two chairs tucked into a cherrywood table.

He pulls one out for you with a slightly shy flourish, and you sit. From a cupboard Taehyung retrieves a half-eaten loaf of baked bread and a glass jar of some type of jam.

“It’s not much, I’m afraid,” he apologises, setting them before you and fetching some plates and a knife, “but I imagine you must be famished from your journey.”

As you wait awkwardly for him to cut off a thick slice of the bread for you, you’re filled with the same feeling that being on a first date would give you. You want him to like you. You want to like him. If not, it will be a very uncomfortable experience.

“Thank you.” You pull the plate closer, admiring the fluffy inside and crunchy crust. “You like to bake?”

Taehyung shrugs, his eyes only meeting yours for brief bursts. His lips are tightened slightly with nerves, but that brown gaze is teddy-soft, making you wish he’d look at you more. “I mastered it out of sheer necessity, but it has become quite the hobby. I made the strawberry jam too, from fresh strawberries on the island. Do you like strawberries?”

“I do. I guess it makes sense for you to grow and make most of your own food.”

“Of course,” he affirms, pausing to take a bite, chewing with leisure. He’d grown up without any real need to ever rush, you supposed. “All this land, it would be a waste not to make use of it. Do you also enjoy the pursuit of gardening?”

You think back to your old apartment, the one plant that draped over the windowsill lifelessly, leaves slowly shriveling up despite you watering it. “It’s not my strongest skill,” you admit with a slight cough, “but I live close enough to a market that I haven’t needed to rely on it.”

Taehyung hums, mouth full of bread. You fall silent waiting for a response. Once he finally swallows, he tilts his head to the side. “You’re extremely beautiful,” he states without question.

“Oh-” you splutter, cheeks heating and the jam on your tongue tasting even sweeter. “Thank you.”

“Perhaps they didn’t tell you. You’re the first woman I’ve seen since I was eight years old.”

Your eyes fly wide, unable to even picture what that must be like. But a glance at Taehyung gives you pause. His eyebrows are lifted, and the corner of his mouth is curling up expectantly, like he can’t wait to see your reaction. “What I’m hearing,” you declare slowly, “is that you don’t really have any context then. To call me beautiful, I mean.”

“I’ve seen paintings,” he rebuts with a small frown, “you’re more beautiful than them.”

“What paintings have you seen?” you ask, grinning in spite of the absurd turn the conversation has taken.

“Several,” he insists emphatically, “the Mona Lisa, for example. Never the originals, of course, just copies from a printing press. But still. If da Vinci had seen you, I do suppose he would’ve painted you instead.”

Words fail you as your mouth opens and closes. A strangled noise leaves it before you’re burying your face in your hands, laughing in disbelief. “You can’t just say things like that, Taehyung,” you whine from behind your palms, “that’s too… I bet you’d say that to any woman who came on the island after so long.”

Taehyung purses his lips, like he’s genuinely considering the prospect. “Perhaps,” he allows, “but I do find it unlikely. I shall have to wait until another female tutor comes to the island and see.”

You can’t help from laughing again, shaking your head. “You want to know something?”

“Always.”

“I’ve seen a lot more people than you probably have, Kim Taehyung, and you’re the most intriguing one I’ve ever met by far.”

He goes silent for a moment, not flustered like you were, instead studying your expression with a keen but gentle eye. “Will you play something for me?” he asks at length. “On the piano? It’s been so long since I’ve heard live music from another soul.”

You finish the last bite of your bread quickly, standing up with a decisive nod. “Lead the way.”

When he stands up with you, he holds out a hand. Though there are only two of you in this empty place, he still entangles his fingers with yours and guides you there carefully, pausing often to give you information about the type of tiling in the foyer, how many steps there are on the staircase, even what year he’d received each painting in the second-floor hall.

The piano is in a ballroom with high, rounded ceilings. The room is so delicate in white and gold that it takes your breath away, makes the glossy grand piano look like a black stamp in the far half of the room.

“Play for me,” he asks again softly as he perches on the corner of the narrow stool, like you may have forgotten his wish on the way upstairs. His voice, as quiet as it is, seems to linger in the air like a golden thread, winding throughout the open air. You join him, your sides pressed flush together, and the shared body heat feels intimate.

When your fingers find the keys, they disturb a layer of fine dust, revealing the ivory beneath. “It has been a long time,” you murmur to yourself, heart aching to see such a beautiful instrument go unused. “Any requests?”

Taehyung takes a brief moment to think this over, head tilting inwards towards you, curls heavy on his brow. “Play a piece that feels like falling in love,” he decides, turning his torso to you with bright eyes. “I recently finished re-reading Pride and Prejudice, you see, and I should like to hear something romantic.”

You smile softly at the sentiment, but your brain sparks as you recall having learned a piece from the soundtrack of the movie itself (thank you, high school English class), and figure that should fit the bill. You let the piece solidify in your mind for a moment, steadying your hands in position, and begin to play.

The notes are light, weightless but so gentle. You’ve only played four or five bars before you hear Taehyung sucking in a breath, and then his face is dipping into your peripheral, a dreamy smile on his face as he leans his ear closer to the piano, hunched forward. His eyes dip closed, and as the piece begins to crescendo you almost wish you were proficient at it enough to not have to look at the keys. Your eyes spare glances at the joy on his face, his dark lashes, his pink lips, taking every second they can.

You don’t know whether to curse or praise fate for sending you to an island with a man more gorgeous than any you’d seen before. Should he be here today, it wouldn’t be you da Vinci was painting.

Taehyung requests a second piece after then - “one that comforts you in moments of strife” - and a third, and a fourth, all with unique atmospheres. It doesn’t surprise you, with such a lack of socialisation that the young man has infused so much meaning and emotion into music instead. Before you know it, the sun is setting, and Taehyung has leaned in so close to the sound, eyes closed in bliss, that his forehead is almost touching your shoulder.

When you finish the last piece, he lets out a breath, going lax like he’s deflated, and opens his eyes again. “That was beautiful,” he whispers, before clearing his throat and straightening up, shaking himself out of that dreamy fog. “I am entirely delighted that you came.”

You quirk a smile, heart warming at his acceptance of you. “I’m delighted I came too.”

“You can begin your lessons tomorrow,” he instructs, stepping up with such sharpness that his robe swings out before catching at his shins again. “But for tonight… I’ll give you a quick tour, and you can get some rest. I am certain we can find something simple for dinner in the boxes Jin brought with you on the way. Shall we?”

Taehyung offers an elbow with an expectant look, so you gingerly slip your hand around, resting it in the crook. Immediately, he tucks his arm in so that your wrist is pressed snugly against him, places his other hand on top of yours, and starts off around the second floor of the house, guiding you around.

He has a running commentary for every inch of the property, it seems. The floor you're on is mostly for entertaining - the ballroom with the piano, of course, a library that takes up almost a third of the space, the shelves still in the process of filling up, and a large study that sits in the centre of the floor, facing the back of the island.

You pause in this room, gently detaching yourself from Taehyung to approach the windows. With glass panes reaching the ceiling, and a long, upholstered bench below, it looks like the perfect reading nook, but that isn't what catches your focus. You sit on the bench and stare outside as the setting sun ignites everything in swathes of orange. The central crest of the island is further back than you initially thought, and between the manor and the peak is a sprawling plain, divided into rose gardens, vegetable patches and even some paddocks with animals inside them. You see tiny bobbing dots emerging from a henhouse, a small gathering of cows, and even a strange glimpse of orange that stands apart from the sun's rays. It disappears into a grove of trees before you can catch it.

"Ah, you spotted my companions," Taehyung murmurs from behind you, his voice sending a slight shiver over your skin. You feel the crushed velvet of the bench cushion shift beneath you as Taehyung makes himself at home, one leg lifted up and his back to the wall, facing you head-on. "We can go down and meet them, if you'd like. If you're not too tired."

It is tempting. But exhaustion tugs at your eyelids and weighs your tongue. You don't feel like you have the energy to socialise much longer. "I think I might go to bed after the tour, if that's alright with you."

Something in his eyes dulls slightly, but he nods quick enough to bounce the curls on his head. "Entirely understandable. Forget the tour; let me guide you to your room and allow you to rest up."

Internally, you sigh gratefully, but give him a warm smile. "I appreciate it," you say honestly, pushing up off the reading bench and offering your elbow. "Shall we?"

He brightens up again, teeth bared in a boxy grin. In a reversal of your previous position, he tucks his arm around yours jovially, holding himself close as if the two of you are old friends. Your heart warms at the enthusiastic contact, and you make no complaint as he leads you out of the study.

"I often take my lessons in there," he chats idly as you climb another set of stairs, "but for our purposes I suppose the ballroom is best. Wouldn't you agree?"

You hum, nodding. "There's theory involved too, you know," you mention, "so we might split our time between the two. That desk in the study looks big enough for the both of us to work at."

"It certainly is." Taehyung clears his throat, and ducks his head slightly as you begin to ascend, still pinned side-by-side. "I do hope you'll enjoy it here," he mumbles quietly. "I have to apologise in advance about the state of your room. I stopped preparing one for a tutor when they stopped sending them. Were I aware of your impending arrival, it would not be so dusty."

"It's fine," you brush off, but the defence dies in your throat when you arrive on the third landing, and he twists the glass knob of the door closes to the right.

Inside is a bedroom, almost the size of your apartment back home, with a large four-poster bed, a small writing desk, a claw-footed tub concealed by a delicately embroidered paper screen, a matching mahogany wardrobe and vanity, and an armchair beside the bed. All of these items individually looked like something out of a period piece movie, seeming two hundred years old, and with the thick, almost solid layer of dust on everything, you could just about imagine they were.

Your mouth falls open before you can smother your reaction, and Taehyung himself lets out a strangled noise of surprise.

"That... I do have to apologise profusely, Y/n, I did not think of just how long it's been..." He sighs with a flourish, tipping his head back like nothing could be more distressing. "This is unacceptable. I'll have to clean this before I allow you to breathe the air in here. You'd catch a cough overnight."

You can't even rebuff that statement, seeing just how many dust particles fly into the air when he levels a kick at the foot of the bed. "I... Is there a living room downstairs I could use in the meantime? I don't mind sleeping on a couch."

Taehyung looks utterly horrified at the prospect, and without a further word, snakes his arm around your waist and is rushing you from the room, pausing only to decisively slam the door shut, and then directs you back the way you came, stopping at a door in the center of the floor. With a pat on your shoulder to keep you in place, he opens the door and waves you inside. "These will be your living quarters for the time being," he declares, jumping in to start patting down the thick duvet of the bed inside, straightening out any invisible crinkles.

The room itself has a similar setup to the previous one, only with far less dust. At one end, a set of French doors are open, showing off a marble balcony. Facing the opposite direction to the study, this looks forward onto the coast and the vast sea from whence you came. The evening air blows in thinly through the open doors, gently billowing the floor-length cream curtains.

There are some tins and glass containers on the vanity, as well as a wooden brush, and the writing desk has a inkwell, a leatherbound book as well as several worn novels resting on it. Like a sudden realisation, you think back to the sight of a figure standing on a balcony when you arrived, of the doors pushed open. This was Taehyung's room.

"Please - make yourself at home," Taehyung requests. "I can bring up your luggage for you while you take a moment to settle. I might go open a few windows in the other room to let it air out overnight, but I'm afraid it may be a few days before I can return it to a clean state. In the meantime, this should suffice."

"I can't take your room, Taehyung," you frown, fiddling with the sleeve of your dress. "That's not fair."

"You're the guest," he insists emphatically with furrowed brows. "I could not sleep in comfort knowing you were banished to a stiff couch after traveling so far for me. The bed is yours."

"Where will you sleep?" you ask, your raw exhaustion stopping you from protesting further. It draws you to the side of the bed, sitting down on the surprisingly comfortable mattress. It doesn't spring under you like the ones you're used to. Instead, it feels full and light, as if stuffed with feathers. Your spine aches and feet buzz at the feeling of rest being so close.

Taehyung smiles, shoulders dropping in relief once you sit. "I have fallen asleep while reading in the study many a time," he responds, "I shall spend my nights on the bench there for the time being."

"On the bench?" you repeat incredulously. "Taehyung-"

"I assure you, it is quite comfortable," he states.

"Then I'll sleep there," you fire back. He grimaces, but a sigh of resignation deflates him. "There's no reason either of us should have to sleep out there, Taehyung. This bed is massive."

He catches what you're hinting at immediately, lips tightening. "It would not be proper..." he defends, though you don't miss the way his eyes linger longingly on the bed you're sat on.

"Who's here to judge us? Who cares?"

Taehyung falls silent for a moment, before nodding. "Very well. Once I bring your luggage up, you may change into your night clothes. I might visit Lily before I come to bed."

The phrase 'come to bed' feels so intimate that you suppress a shiver, focusing instead on the unfamiliar name. "Lily?"

He beams immediately in fondness. "You can meet her tomorrow," he promises. "For now, sleep is the larger priority."

The word itself triggers a yawn, and you swear you hear the quietest chuckle from Taehyung as you clap a hand over your mouth. "Okay, I won't fight that," you decide, "just let me come down and help bring up my luggage. There are only a few suitcases, anyway."

By the time you undress and slip into a cotton nightgown, slipping your feet underneath the puffy duvet, your mind is already shutting down. Part of you had intended to wait for Taehyung, to thank him for his hospitality or the use of his bed or something, but instead your body rests into the cloudlike bed, tucked on one side to give Taehyung more room to stretch out, and consciousness leaves you like the flick of a switch.

You wake in the middle of the night, briefly, a wave of disorientation tugging you from sleep before you recall the past twenty four hours. Adjusting yourself, you turn around to your other side and flip the pillow, seeking the cool. Rubbing at your eyes, you crack them open briefly and are met with the sight of Kim Taehyung sleeping. Not right across from you, though. Instead, he's curled up in the armchair, neck twisted at an awkward angle, mouth open slightly.

Your heart melts at the sight, and you manage to muster the energy it takes to sit up and hop out of bed, padding around on bare feet, using a blanket folded at the foot of the bed to drape over him, and tucking a pillow between his cheek and his shoulder.

He's beautiful, achingly so, even when asleep. Even with a corner of his mouth damp with drool. The planes of his face catch the moonlight coming in through the window. It glints silver on his cheekbones and the tip of his nose. It winds in strands of his hair that hang low on his brow. The photograph could never have encapsulated these details, and it feels like a privilege to be witnessing him in real life. More than his gorgeous face, he seemed kinder than you'd expected, a curious spirit that had none of the inhibitions or judgements that society bred into you, into everyone you'd met before him. He was so entirely himself, uninfluenced, that it took your breath away.

His breath catches, and he lets out a throaty grumble before shifting slightly in the chair. Heart racing at the sudden movement, you scurry back to your side of the bed, barely taking a minute of stillness to fall asleep again.

“Good mor- Well, good afternoon!”

You groan, hands balling up clumsily to rub at your eyes, toes curling and mouth stretching in a yawn.

“Ah, there she is. Welcome back to the land of the living, darling.”

You crack a single eyelid, squinting up at the figure crouched at the bedside. Taehyung looks surprisingly well-rested for his uncomfortable choice in bedding last night, and his hair has been brushed back, revealing bright eyes and a broad set of brows, raised expectantly.

“What time is it?” you make out with rusty vocal cords. Pushing yourself upright, you yawn again and prop your back against the headboard, blinking away the dregs of sleep.

“Three in the afternoon,” he states without hesitation, eyes glinting with bemusement, “I would have left you sleeping longer, only- well, to tell you the truth I was worried you may have slipped into a coma. Your snoring sounded suspiciously like a death rattle.”

Your cheeks heat violently as you splutter out an apology, but he just laughs, the sound throaty and golden. “I’ve taken the time to unpack our supplies,” he continues on, lifting from his haunches only to sit on the bed instead, just about pinning your legs under the duvet. “I’ve put the boxes with your equipment in the study for now, as I wasn’t sure how you wanted to arrange them. But worry not; I’ve decided we don’t have to begin lessons until Monday. I shall insist on giving you weekends and evenings off, as is proper for a teacher.”

“Thank you,” you let out automatically, even as your brain overheats from the sudden info dump so early in the morning. Before either of you can open your mouths again, your stomach growls, causing you to flush deeply.

Taehyung is unruffled, simply rising to his feet with a wordless exclamation. “Of course! You must be starving. I’ll be down in the kitchen making us some… lunch? Some lunch,” he decides. “My bath is connected to the hot water system here, so please do not hesitate should you wish to wash up before you get dressed for the day. I will not disturb you, simply come downstairs at your leisure.”

With that, he turns to leave in a flurry, leaving you alone.

After sitting in the silence for a moment, still catching your bearings, you decide to take him up on the offer of a hot bath after all. The tub is not particularly wide but very tall, and the water fills up quickly, pouring in somewhat uneven bursts from the delicate silver faucets. Though it boasts some silver feet at the bottom, they appear to be decorative, as the bath itself is still attached to the ground by the pipe underneath it. It snakes from the drainhole, under the tub and out to the side of the wall, where it disappears.

It’s quite the balancing act to get the temperature right, adjusting the cold and hot water taps several times until it feels just right, dipping your fingers in to check before submerging yourself entirely.

With the shape of the tub, you have to bend your legs, but the level of the water is displaced high enough to almost reach the tops of your knees, heating your whole body from the shoulders down. It feels heavenly, and you don’t even make any motions to reach for the block of soap or the perfume on the side table, instead just shutting your eyes and letting the tensions of your journey and all the changes finally seep out of your muscles and into the water.

Your mind wanders. Staying there until the water is nothing more than lukewarm, you think of how far you’ve come, of what more might lay in the future yet. Of how strange it was to be wearing vintage clothes, or listen to Taehyung’s charming old-fashioned way of speaking. The world you left behind has never felt so far away. Were you at home, you’d probably be on your phone, mindlessly scrolling on social media or queuing up a new Netflix show. There is still a strange hole inside you at not having those comforts available to you, but it isn’t nearly as cavernous as you’d expected. Life here, at least the day of it you’ve experienced, doesn’t feel empty or lacking. But perhaps it’s the person on this island with you that makes it feel so full.

With the reminder of him, and the fact that he’s currently on the first floor making lunch, your stomach growls impatiently again, and you scramble to soap yourself down before you drain the tub. Hunger gnawing at you makes you hurry, getting dressed and brushing through your hair a bit before rushing down the stairs, a fistful of fabric keeping your skirt high enough that you won’t trip.

The smell hits you before anything else, and as you round the corner, the rich aroma of beef is matched with the sight of Taehyung leaning leisurely against the kitchen counter, lazily stirring the contents of a comically large pot on the stove.

The scuff of your shoes alerts him to your presence, and he turns around with a broad grin, directing you to sit at the dining table. The sight of him takes your breath away. Gone is the matching pyjamas-and-robe ensemble. Today, it seems, he’s dressing to the nines. A deep navy waistcoat with gold buttons keeps snug to his form, a white blouse with tight cuffs and ballooned sleeves showing off a delicate lace pattern. His pants are a warm brown, leading down to leather shoes. Instead of a tie, his neck stays bare, the top button of his blouse undone to expose the base of his throat. Even his hair is styled; it looks as if he’s wet it slightly to comb it back, but a stray lock to the left has escaped the clutches, curling at his temple.

“Excellent timing,” he chimes, unaware of - or unbothered by - the way your eyes rake over him, “the stew is just about ready to go.”

He serves the dish with a comically large ladle, pouring the stew into two stone bowls. It looks nothing short of incredible, filled with chunks of tender beef, potato, onion, carrot, even some slices of egg. You can barely hold off long enough for Taehyung to sit and pick up a spoon before you’re doing the same, diving in with a much dignity as you can muster.

It’s unbelievably good, the meat so tender you barely even chew it, the broth rich and full-bodied on your tongue. You suppose a lifetime of cooking for himself was clearly paying off, and you count your lucky stars that he’s happy and willing to make such an impressive meal for you on your first real day here.

“I want you to meet someone today,” Taehyung announces at one point, pausing to tip his bowl up and drink the last of the stew.

You frown, instinctively glancing around the room. “There’s another person living on the island?”

“Not so much.” He sets the bowl down with a dull thud and leans back in his chair, two broad hands smoothing down his vest. “There’s several livestock out back that you caught a glimpse of last night, but I do keep a pet, too. She’s outside.”

Burning with curiosity, you quickly help Taehyung rinse out the bowls and leave them upside down in the sink to dry, following behind him as he leads you to one of the back doors close to the kitchen.

“You’ll require shoes,” Taehyung states, retrieving a pair of worn sandals from a cupboard beside the door, “you can use a pair of mine for now. Just tighten the straps and they shall suffice.”

While the shoes are significantly larger than your feet, Taehyung is right. You wrap the ties as tight as they go, pinning your foot to the sole, and the two of you set out into the heat of the afternoon.

Outside, you’re in a cosy valley between the manor and the mountain ahead, so very little wind reaches you. The salt of the sea is masked by the fragrant smell of blooming flowers and pollen, not just restrained to flowerbeds but growing all over, from bushes of bright pink azaleas to tiny white petals climbing up a trellis on the back exterior wall to dandelions and daises dotted amongst the thick grass.

You walk along a central path, still grass but worn flat from treading. It leads you between mostly garden beds of vegetables and flowers, but also paddocks of farm animals; a chicken coop you’d seen the night before sticks close to the house, with a patch of sheep and three cows grazing further out towards the slope of the mountain.

“She is my dearest companion,” Taehyung explains as you make your way close to a grove of trees, unbothered by the heat even in his warm clothes, “though not all of my tutors take to her as well as I have. I should hope you can grow fond of her, Y/n.”

You smile at the earnest look on his face. “Is she a cat? I know some people don’t get along with cats that well.”

His grin widens, hands clasped behind his back. “She is indeed.” Inclining his head forward, he looks intently into the thatch of trees, scanning the shade. Suddenly, he perks up, and speeds up. “There she is!”

You strain your eyes to seek out this mysterious companion, barely noticing the wooden fence in front of you until you bump into it, Taehyung reaching out a hand to steady you and lifting a heavy metal clasp, letting the two of you in and shutting it behind you. Your smile falters a little; why would a cat need a gate?

“Lily, my dear!” Taehyung calls out jovially, heading further into the fenced-off field. The majority of it is open grass with the trees gathered further back and a small pond to the right, birds gathering around the edge to wet their beaks.

You hear the snuffling and pawing before you see her.

Brilliant orange, the tiger steps out from the shadows of the trees and pads towards the dark-haired man, meeting him halfway. Your stomach drops at the sight of the big cat, rich black and snow white stripes lining her face and body, sleek all over but long-haired around the neck and chin. Even in zoos, you’d never seen a predator this close, and to be entirely vulnerable to one had you frozen in terror.

Taehyung wasn’t the least bit stiff, falling fearlessly to his knees, arms splayed wide to bury his whole upper body into her fur. She snuffles again, a flash of teeth sending a shock through your system, but gently buffs her head against his head, all but nuzzling in.

It takes several moments for your life-or-death instincts to settle, but as you do, the murmur of Taehyung’s voice greets your ears.

His hands run over her, scratching behind her ears, patting down stray whiskers, rubbing her chin, and beams, showering her in affection. “Oh, my sweet girl, my deepest apologies for making you wait, did you miss me? Hm? Oh, I missed you too, you big baby.”

Despite sharing the same oxygen as an actual, grown tiger, you find yourself smiling at the bond between the two. With a solid thud that resonates in the ground, Lily falls onto her side and lifts a wide paw up, batting at Taehyung until he buries his splayed fingers into the fur on her tummy, giving it a hearty rub. She snuffles again, stretching out under his touch, playful and content.

He looks up after a moment, crooked smile and tousled hair, and waves you over. It takes a moment of sheer concentration and determination to will your feet to move closer, but eventually you gingerly kneel down beside him and look at the gorgeous animal in front of you.

She’s bigger than both of you put together, but leans into Taehyung’s cuddling and petting like a kitten, or a dog that doesn’t realise how big it is. You reach out slowly, hand trembling, and settle your fingers on top of her heaving chest, just beside Taehyung’s. Her fur is like rough silk, richly soft yet textured, and her skin beneath is warmed from the sun. A smile stretches across your lips as she arches off the ground slightly, licking her chops and stretching her paw up in acceptance of the contact.

Taehyung sucks in a slow breath, and you feel the weight of his head rest onto your shoulder. “She likes you,” his honeyed rumble affirms, “she never warmed up to the others.”

Your hand freezes, even as Lily makes no change in behaviour. “I thought the other tutors didn’t like her?”

Taehyung chuckles, the movement jostling your shoulder. “Would you have come down here had I told you she was unfriendly?”

You harrumph, but find no real annoyance inside you. “How did you even get a tiger here? This is insane.”

With a slight grunt of effort, Taehyung lifts up off you and twists, letting his head rest on the tiger’s side instead, dwarfed by her body. He pats the ground beside him, but you shake your head obstinately, not ready to put your head so close to a predator. “One of my previous tutors brought her. Jungkook, his name was. He was the most brilliant carpenter, making not furniture but tools and delicate ornaments. I keep them still in my room. I digress; his father was a zookeeper, or so he told me, giving sanctuary to orphaned creatures too wild to be housepets. Lily’s mother was rescued from poachers while she was pregnant.”

You frown, staring unabashedly at Taehyung’s graceful face now that he’d closed his eyes. “But why did you get Lily? Did she not stay with her mother?”

Taehyung shrugs lazily, making Lily adjust and huff beneath him, also drifting off into a comfortable nap. The only sign Tae is still conscious is his willingness to engage in conversation, and even then his voice is slurred with relaxation. “Their zoo was not so well off, you see, financially. One senior tiger was one thing. A cub? They wanted to release it into the wild and pray to the Lord for the best. Jungkook pulled some strings for me, the sweet boy.”

“Why Lily?”

A single eye cracks open, staring up at you balefully. “I did just say.”

“No,” you fumble, cheeks heating, “why the name? Why Lily?”

“Well; what do you suppose a tiger should be called?” He waits for a moment, letting the rhetorical question dangle in the air before he allows you the answer. “Jungkook’s birth flower was a tiger lily. Tiger, lily. He had to leave, serve in the army, but I did not wish to lose all of him. He was my first love, you see.” A sad smile stretches across his face, and the light dulls from his eyes, reminding you hauntingly of that photograph Hoseok had shown you. “I do miss him terribly, despite Lily here to keep me company.”

You find yourself stricken into silence, heart aching for him. You don’t know what to say, whether to ask if he was finishing his stint in the military soon, or whether to avoid the discussion of the boy altogether. Taehyung seems to settle into the silence, breathing in turn with the quietly snoring tiger.

A solemn air clouds around you, heavy and pressured. Behind your eyes, you feel a sting as your mind wanders where your tongue holds, at the thought of being left behind by the man you love, having nothing more than a namesake and some carvings to remember him by. Of not knowing where he was, if he was okay. You blink hastily, tilting your gaze up to the sun.

Although his eyes have slipped shut, Taehyung seems to feel your change in mood. His lip quirks in reassurance. “Do not worry for me, my dear,” he consoles, “that love no longer pains me like it used to. Even during our time together, I did feel that affection hurt uniquely. We both knew our company was finite. There’s an agony in that, woven with euphoria.”

You find yourself scrambling for words, unmoored by how easily he spoke with such conviction and colour. “I hope you don’t feel pain like that again,” you offer up after a moment.

He swallows, throat bobbing, and hums, a low smile gracing his features. “I do.”

With no idea what to say to that, you lower your head to the field around you, watching Taehyung’s head rise and fall with the tiger’s chest. Watching his fingers fiddle with blades of grass, his own breath even out. The two of you sit quietly with Lily until the sun begins to set and the air finally cools. As the sky erupts in purples and pinks, and the sinking sun casts royal orange over Taehyung’s already golden skin, you yearn for that agony too.

Life on the island is easier to adjust to than you’d been expecting. The void of your phone dissipates slowly, but other conveniences in your prior life are so quickly replaced by new routines that you don’t find yourself missing them.

Taehyung is a clever and diligent student, never complaining about the theory lessons or hours of practice you ask him to complete. While he isn’t the quickest learner, what he finally masters seems concretely rooted in him, and he never forgets a bar once he’s memorised it.

You end every lesson playing a piece for him upon his insistent request. Like the first time, he challenges you to call upon compositions that fit certain emotions and atmospheres. When he plays, demonstrating the few lines of music he’d learned that day, you feel a soul creep between the notes, his fingers sliding along those keys so reverently.

Outside of lessons, the two of you grow closer still. There’s a certain intimacy in shared meals, and Taehyung seemingly never tires of cooking, offering to teach you but never expecting you to provide. You try, nonetheless, growing accustomed to the stone oven and rudimentary utensils. No dinner is ever quiet; despite spending most of your hours together, Taehyung never runs out of conversation to make, and is always genuinely interested in what tidbits you offer up yourself.

You learn about him rapidly through these tangents and asides. His favourite novel was a Jules Verne book, Around the World in Eighty Days. “I’ve read it a hundred times,” Taehyung once confessed, “and yet I can never begin to imagine it at all. Isn’t that curious? I find myself rather addicted to it.”

His taste in music was expansive, and he ended almost every day sat by his record player, staring deeply into space, ear angled directly at the bell-shaped horn. His foot would tap but he’d be otherwise still, so enraptured in the tune. He acted much the same whenever he looked at prints of famous paintings, staring at them intensely, unmoving. If anything, you wish you could hear what was going on inside his head at those times.

The first two months race by, and before you realise how settled you’ve gotten, Jin is back with a new shipment of goods. He receives a warm welcome from the two of you, and remarks with a meaningful weight in his tone just how happier Taehyung seemed to be compared to the previous time.

Thrilled to see another human, you ask for him to join the two of you, but he agrees to sit down for a cup of tea exclusively.

“Storm warning coming up tomorrow,” he explains, legs splayed wide and arms crossed over his chest as the three of you converge in the kitchen. “I want to head out ASAP just to get ahead of it in case it hits early. Can’t be too careful out there.”

“A-yes-apie,” Taehyung repeats with a crinkling of his brow, leaning against the kitchen counter with only two wooden chairs at the table.

“A-S-A-P,” Jin corrects warmly, “‘as soon as possible’, old chap. I must’ve picked that lingo up at the docks, I suppose.”

Taehyung seems to perk up at the new phrase, lips mouthing the letters silently to recall it. “Do you… have anything else like that?”

Jin’s eyes dart to you, so quick you almost miss the way his lips tighten, but his posture remains casual. “Check out the books I brought, maybe they’ll have some other figures of speech in there. Dickens, maybe. I brought you David Copperfield.”

Taehyung nods emphatically, the furrow in his forehead finally lifting. “I’ll be sure to read it carefully. Much obliged.”

Jin downs the rest of his tea in a single gulp and gathers his heavy coat, taking his leave so quickly that you barely get the chance to really enjoy his company or catch up at all. Only at the door, after Taehyung hugs him one last time and heads out back to feed the animals does Jin hook your arm in his gently and pull you aside.

“The two of you seem happy,” he states soberly, “which of course is a good thing, but be careful, Y/n. With yourself and with him. You’re on a timed contract.”

You frown, face falling. “What do you mean?”

“I- nothing, I suppose, I just want the best for you both. It’s a very… unique situation. Keep your best judgement in mind.” He sucks in one last breath, frowning at the spotting of clouds on the horizon, and glances back, tugging you into a sudden hug. “You’re a good fit here, Y/n. I’m glad he has you for the next few months.”

Thoroughly confused, you savour the hug as best you can before Jin is departing, rushing down the gravel path back to his docked ship. He’s gone within the next ten minutes, and your mind is soon occupied by the thought of what to have for dinner.

The storm Jin had rushed out ahead of hits you a day after his departure. Your lesson is cancelled in order to herd all the animals under cover around the island when thick black clouds get hooked around the top of the mountain. Before you’re able to as much as brew a cup of tea, a tropical rain pelts the manor, soaks the land and encloses you firmly indoors for the foreseeable future.

Back home, life goes on as normal when there’s a downpour, just with added umbrellas and rainboots. There is enough shelter in a city to keep it at bay, and the infrastructure to ensure as little flooding as possible. Out here, the elements reign over the island and you’re kept under their mercy.

Taehyung assures you that this happens seasonally, and that the fields quickly turning to swampwater will return to normal in due time. Apart from Lily, who is carefully lead into her own stables and hooked to a post, the animals huddle in wooden coops and huts, using their own judgement to stay dry.

The two of you make the most of the time together. It’s too noisy in the ballroom to attempt a piano lesson, so the rain on the roof becomes white noise as you whittle away the hours on the first floor living room, Taehyung reading to you (his new Dickens, much to his delight, is just as enjoyable as the last one) or you telling him highly-edited stories of your childhood.

Despite the storm being humid, the house is surprisingly cool, and over the days of unbroken downpour, you find yourself naturally sitting closer and closer to Taehyung every time you make your way down there. The Dickens book doesn’t last long, so Taehyung digs out other things to keep the two of you entertained. An old untuned violin, a stack of playing cards missing the seven of hearts, even a worn joke book with puns so bad that you can’t help but laugh.

It’s the sixth day of straight rain when things turn sour. It’s early in the evening when Taehyung decides to go out to check on the animals.

“I’ll come help,” you offer, already jumping off the chaise lounge, but Taehyung whirls around with an emphatic shake of his head.

“Unwise,” he insists, “I wouldn’t want you to catch a chill. Besides, I know all the nooks and crannies they’re taking shelter in. They tend to spread around the island more than usual when they have to find cover.”

“At least let me keep an eye on you. I have a raincoat,” you insist, and he sighs but protests no further.

Outside, the rain is pelting with a vengeance. You grimace in sympathy for the creatures stuck outside, not granted the same care as the two of you and Lily. Even with your oiled leather rain jacket on, you quickly become drenched.

Taehyung, in nothing more than his usual blouse and dress pants, bursts out into the fields behind the sprawling mansion without a care in the world. His hair is plastered to his scalp, the weight of the water removing even the most stubborn curl, and his blouse clings to his skin, turning transparent enough that you can see the shadow of a mole between his shoulder blades.

When he turns to you, he has to yell over the crashing of the storm, the rain near deafening. “The chickens have their henhouse, but I do worry it might flood. If you can check it out, I shall go find the cows.”

“Find them?” you yell back. “I thought you knew where they would go?”

He smiles widely, teeth glinting as water runs off the tip of his nose. “I know a few spots, dear Y/n, but I did not meet with them directly to witness their choice.”

You frown, but Taehyung is already setting off, warning you to be safe as if you’re the more at danger. As you see his figure grow smaller, not running towards the hilly range but instead parallel to it, you give up and turn the other way to the henhouse.

It’s fairly large, and although it looks as old as time, it’s the stout kind of old rather than the rickety one. The posts holding it in place are worn entirely glossy smooth, and the nails have all but sunken inside, never to be shifted.

You can’t hear the chickens, and as you approach your heart races, scanning the roof for any visible holes or weaknesses. There don’t seem to be any, but still you make haste for the entrance to the coop, boots sinking ankle deep in the mud with every step.

Finally, you get there, calves aching from yanking your feet free the whole way. Catching your breath, you don’t even mind the thick sheets of rain that continue to slip beneath your raincoat and fill your boots.

Your grip on the window cover is slippery at best, and it takes you an embarrassingly long time to fiddle with the hook that keeps it closed. The chooks still have their own hutch doors to come and go as they choose, but you’re worried about startling them and causing a feathery exodus.

Eventually you lift it up and off, and slide the window to the side as quietly as you can, grateful that the rumble of the rainclouds muffles most small sounds.

Fearing the worst, you lift up on your tiptoes and peer inside. Instead of a flood of water and drowned chickens, you’re greeted with the smell of hay and the humid air of shared space. Below, the chickens have huddled together on the dry hay, sleeping soundly. None of them stir as you look around, and just as slowly as you opened the window, you latch it shut again.

Turning back the way you came, you keep your eyes peeled for Taehyung. Sprawling fields, waterlogged and empty. You can’t make him out along the foot of the hills, which means he must’ve continued further towards the west coastline.

You make your way over there, straining to hear or see anything over the chaos of the summer storm. Passing Lily’s shelter, you check inside, but he’s not returned their either.

She watches you with intelligent eyes, bucking her snout at the ice chests of meat you keep stacked in the corner for her. The metal receptacle is impossible for her to open with strength alone, but she’s seen you and Taehyung use it to feed her enough times to recognise it.

“Okay, sweetheart, just quickly.” To be safe, fearing for your heart that hasn’t quite gotten comfortable in her free-range presence, you take it outside to open, pulling a slab of ground beef out.

Lily didn’t mind chewing it like an ice block, so you simply close the chest again and enter, lobbing it to her immediately so she doesn’t come to you.

She’s more than content to snap it up with a happy thud of her front paw, ducking her head to drop it on the floor directly in front of her, gnawing at it side-on.

Setting the ice chest back down, you rub your icy hands together, working the heat back into them. “An early dinner, huh? Cheeky thing. I promise I won’t tell Taehyung that I already fe-”

You cut yourself off, going ramrod straight. Lily even pauses her eating, watching you warily. You swear you heard something, a yell or cheer or…

Without pausing to say goodbye to the big cat in the barn, you rush outside and squint, looking for what could’ve caused it. Inside, you know there’s only one other being on the whole island, but the dread swirling in your stomach is already too much to handle.

Wiping your face in frustration, blinking away water that keeps returning, you fight the churned-up ground and half-jog towards the coastline.

Even as you approach, the only noise is the thundering rain, and you feel like you’ve gone crazy, but the lack of further sound just makes you more paranoid.

You’re almost running now, heart burning and legs screaming at the effort it takes. It feels like running in a nightmare, sluggish and not fast enough, but eventually the rocky beach comes into better view.

Suddenly, a movement catches your eye, and your heart stops. Following the flash, you see that the edge of the hill closest to the beach turns to rough stone. Halfway up, the rocky slope turns concave. Under the lip, the cows are lying down, tails flicking lazily as they chew their cud.

You frown, eyes following the cliffside down. There’s no trail, no easy way. Did he climb up to check on them more closely? Maybe he slipped a little and it caught him by surprise, you ponder, but the thought is weak even in your own head.

“Taehyung!” you scream out desperately, fearing the worst. “Are you out here, Taehyung? Do something, make some noise!”

Your voice is quickly swallowed up by the pounding of rain, but the closer you get to the beach, the more the sprawling sand absorbs the impact and lessens the volume.

If you weren’t straining your ears so intently, you would have missed it.

A weak whistling rings out, reaching you on the last legs of its strength. You follow it, heart thudding as you place the tune. The song you had played for him on the piano weeks, months ago, when he’d asked for something romantic.

The sound grows louder the closer you get to the foot of the hill, and the first glimpse of him you see is his inky hair contrasting against the sand.

“Tae,” you yell out, “oh my goodness, are you okay, what happened?”

He’s unable to answer you beyond a grunt of acknowledgement, and your heart flares at the pained tinge it carries. The whistle trails off with it and somehow the silence that follows is worse.

All there is is the crash of rain on sea and rocks, and him.

Without care for your already soaked clothes, you collapse at his side the second you reach him. Further away the rain had clouded your vision, but leaning over him like this, you see the golden crests of sand clinging to his bare throat and jaw, some grains even stuck on the pale pink of his lips.

It’s vastly overshadowed by the harsh pink that covers the rest of him.

The rain has watered the blood down almost to nothing in some places, but the shadow in the sand beneath him and the stained fibres of his clothing hold the pigment stronger.

He’s bleeding from somewhere on his face; the well doesn’t stop, ebbing from close to his hairline and mingling with angry rainwater.

His brows are furrowed deeply with the ache of it, and he’s still, hauntingly so. But still, when you go to wipe the muck and violent matter from his face, you catch the way his lips tilt just slightly, a smile in spite of it all.

This whisper of his humanity is what snaps you out of your shock. You take in a gasping breath, mind running a mile a minute. “We have to get you inside,” you half-shout over the crashing storm, “is anything broken? You can feel your legs, right? Taehyung? Fuck, what do I-”

He’s not responding fast enough, and here isn’t the place for an interrogation. With no other choice, you dig your hands into the bloody sand beneath him and lift him from it, gritting your teeth at the dead weight.

The movement rips a guttural cry from him, and a shaking hand flies up to cradle his face. He still doesn’t speak a single word, but clings to you like his life depends on it.

It probably does, and that fact makes you endure with a greater haste.

It’s a long trek back to the estate. Wet sand turns to wet dirt, and with the added load your feet sink into the mud even deeper. Every step is a juddering thwack that makes Taehyung whimper, and more than twice you find yourself crying out with him, half to drown that anguished sound and half to curse the skies that pelt you without mercy.

Your muscles scream at you, but you push forth. By the time the massive building enters your blurred vision, you can barely breathe, throat worn thin from gasping. Taehyung has stopped responding to the jerking tug of your uneven movements. You suspect he’s lost consciousness, and the fire in your chest pushes you the final stretch.

Lily’s hut is closer than the back door, so you stop in that stable and lay Taehyung down on the hay, lungs screaming at you.

He doesn’t move an inch, simply sinking into the dried grass with his natural gravity. From her perch on the other side of the room, Lily goes silent too.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you pant out when your voice returns, heart warming when she abandons her prized ground beef popsicle to come to Taehyung.

Padding over, she gingerly nudges his jaw with her nose. His face lolls lifelessly to the other side. With her uncanny intelligence, she ducks her head down and presses it to his stomach, waiting a few moments. Her red ochre eyes watch you carefully as her head barely lifts and falls with his shallow breathing.

After a minute, she mounts the hay beside him and lies her full weight on it, gently nosing at his body until it’s tucked neatly beside her. Although she’s lying as if to sleep, her eyes don’t leave him for a minute, nor do they close.

“Keep him safe,” you request of her with a cracked voice, though you know it’s redundant to even ask. “I just need to grab some things.”

You use the side door to enter the house directly, so exhausted that perhaps even fifteen seconds of the pelting rain might cause you to collapse entirely.

Inside the house, the air is cool and a little humid. You drip a trail over the polished floorboards, marble and Persian rugs that fill Taehyung’s home. There’s no time to waste in getting changed into dry clothes, so you simply shuck them in a random hallway, remaining only in your soaked undergarments.

With that burden removed, you move quicker to his room, grabbing his blanket. Your next stop is a necessary one, linen from a closet you can use to clean and bandage his injuries, plus towels to dry him as best you can.

For the first time in a long time, your isolation feels like a curse. There’s no ambulance you can ring, no internet to search for help. He doesn’t even have ibuprofen, wouldn’t know what it was even if you told him.

The best you can do is some plain bread from the kitchen pantry and a reserve of Finnish vodka that he’d been saving for something special.

Hurrying with your arms full, you almost slip down the wet corridors, but in no time you’re back in the warm stable, now filled with the worried purring Lily is attempting to rouse Taehyung with.

“He’ll be okay,” you promise, beginning first by pressing a balled-up bedsheet to his forehead. He doesn’t even have the energy or awareness to cringe at the pressure, but luckily the bleeding slows enough for you to clean the rest of him clumsily with your other hand, towel after towel quickly becoming waterlogged with a dirty pink.

After tying a fresh cloth to his forehead, large enough that it covers one of his lidded eyes, you tentatively begin to undress him.

It feels wrong, exposing his cold and clammy skin like this. But you know he needs to get dry and warm, and can’t do that lying in pounds of soaked fabric. Lily moves back enough for you to slide his pants off and gently pull his unbuttoned shirts from behind his back.

Even the hay is dampened and compacted now, so with a grimace you lift him to a dry spot, laying half his blanket underneath him, and wrapping the top around.

With a light huff, Lily returns to her place at Taehyung’s side, this time settling lower down, resting her head on his thigh. Perhaps pleased at your level of care, she twitches her nose and closes her eyes to sleep.

It’s a long day, and an even longer night.

Once you’re confident the bleeding has stopped, you use a bucket of rainwater and a fresh pillow case to carefully erode the dried blood from his face and ear. It’s slow going; you’re terrified to hurt him more than he’s already injured.

He flinches a couple of times, when you dab closer to his temple, but doesn’t wake. You finish in silence, revealing the nature of the injury.

It’s a nasty scrape, but shallow, and luckily with the rain, no sand has managed to embed itself in the maw. Some of his hair has come away, leaving an uneven hairline just above the shell of his ear.

Biting your lip hard enough to taste blood, you brace yourself and tip some of the vodka over the partially dried wound. Taehyung’s fingers curl into claws in his sleep, but still he doesn’t rouse from the slumber that’s taken him.

In the end, you feel good about your cleaning and dressing of the wound. An unused handkerchief is the perfect size to fold into a triangle and tie around his head, and it looks far less serious now that it’s tidied up and treated.

What keeps you awake is what lies beneath.

How are you supposed to know if he’s got a concussion? If there’s internal bleeding, or his brain has blown up like a balloon inside his skull? You’re unable to research any symptoms and even if you did, there’s probably very little for you to do.

Until he wakes - if he wakes - you can’t even question how high up he was when he fell, and if it was a clean tumble or if he injured himself further on the way down.

Lily doesn’t seem to be able to stay asleep either. She barely finishes her dinner, and wakes almost on the hour every hour to check if he’s awake. He doesn’t.

The second day is somehow worse.

Torn between not wanting to leave his side and wanting to bring more supplies for him, your day is a long stretch of anxious waiting interspersed briefly with mad dashes into the house.

You forget to eat, but it doesn’t seem important. You worry more about the way his lids have begun shifting, as if the eyes beneath are restlessly rolling in his skull. There’s no way for you to tell if this is a good sign or an omen.

There’s no way for you to tell if he’ll wake at all, and when the storm finally lifts on the third day and yet Taehyung remains asleep, that’s when the if starts feeling insurmountable and ominous.

Maybe he’s dying behind closed eyes. What would you do if he stopped breathing for good? Bury him in the sludge outside? Or worse, keep him inside to rot aboveground until Jin comes to pick you up off the island?

This whole place was his home alone. You suppose it would be his tomb alone, too. The thought keeps you up at night, trembling fingers pressed against his neck and wrists, trying to tell if that thud is his life essence or your own terrified pulse.

In the early hours of the fourth morning, it strikes you that there’s no reason to keep him in the stables. While Lily has been a loyal companion, it’s far from all your necessities and you have no doubt lying on a pile of hay wearing nothing but underclothes and a blanket for days on end is particularly comfortable.

It feels a little wrong to move him, at first, but once you put your will to it, you get the strangest premonition that this might be enough movement and life to rouse him, that perhaps if you got him settled nicely in his bed, he might recognise the smell and decide to wake.

Whether it’s overtiredness or denial that brings about this hope, you latch onto it and whisper promises to Lily that you’ll take care of him.

He’s a little lighter in your arms without wet clothes, but still the dead weight makes you wobble precariously up the stairs. Several times you almost believe he shifted in your grasp, but you’re stumbling about too much to be sure.

You make it to his room, starting to grow a little stale with lack of use, and gently tip him onto the mattress.

He bounces on it, the blanket dislodging and revealing his bare chest. Flushing, you turn away and busy yourself in his closet, trying to find a tunic or robe that would be easily put on for his privacy.

You’re so focused that you almost miss it.

The softest voice, calling out your name.

You go ramrod stiff, turning around like something’s about to jump out at you. Taehyung has a hand pressed to his face, fumbling over the slightly crusty handkerchief tied onto it. You watch in near disbelief as he groans again, bare toes wiggling near the edge of the bed.

“Y/n,” he calls out weakly again, “you have not left me, have you?”

This thaws your frozen body in an instant, and you rush to the side of the bed, tripping in your haste and banging awkwardly on your knees at the bedside. “Taehyung, I’m here, can you hear me?”

He swallows, a slow and laboured movement, before replying. When he does, his voice is a little clearer. “Of course I can, my dear, my ears appear to be intact.”

You almost can’t talk, half-scared he’s some kind of mirage from your tired brain. How does he sound, well, fine? As if waking from a rejuvenating sleep. “Your… your head doesn’t hurt?”

His smile quirks. It’s been far too long since you’ve seen it, and your heart pangs sharply when it vanishes with a grimace. “Alas, it pains me greatly. Never mind it, I have no issue with enduring the consequences of my actions. I don’t suppose you have water on hand? My throat feels rather dry.”

You inform him you’ll fetch some from the kitchen, and he hums sweetly, letting his eyes slip closed again. Spilling a third of it on the floor along the way as you rush, you make it back to the room in record time, praying he hasn’t fallen back under.

Quite the contrary, he’s sitting up in bed, propped by pillows and stretching out the muscles of his limbs methodically. He glances up, almost shocked at your frazzled state. “You seem unlike yourself,” Taehyung comments mildly, accepting the glass with a grateful stroke of your hand.

The contact electrifies you, and you stubbornly push down the urge to take him in your arms, instead clutching at the bed as you kneel back down by the edge of it. “You’ve been unconscious for almost four days.” Your voice is flat, but you know the sting in your eyes betrays your emotion. “Do you not remember falling off a cliff, Taehyung?”

“Four…?” The curly-haired man blinks in a daze, brows pulling together as he shakes his head lightly. Letting out a sigh, the worry lifts from his face, and he downs the last of his water, eyes warm as they regard you. “Ah, the cliff. I slipped a little, perhaps, but I wasn’t too worried. The cows needed tending. I apologise for scaring you, but I really am quite alright.”

“Scaring me?” you echo, incredulous. “You petrified me, Taehyung. What were you thinking?”

His eyes are faraway, twinkling as he stares up at the ceiling. “I had an angel looking over me.”

Shaking your head emphatically, you let out a noise of frustration, though it’s so thick with concern that there’s no bite to it. “Tae, you climbed up a slippery slope in the middle of a raging storm. What help is a celestial being going to be when you put yourself in danger like that?”

“You misunderstand me,” he corrects gently, finally focusing back in to meet your exasperated stare. “You are my angel.”

Your anger evaporates into a strange sense of hopelessness. “You could’ve died,” you state weakly, chin sinking to rest on your folded arms.

His eyes go a little cloudy then, regretful. “I am relieved I didn’t. When I fell, when you found me-” he breaks off with a small sigh, gaze skirting around you, “-I couldn’t make out your face through the rainwater in my eyes. It was… troubling to me. That I might leave this earth without seeing you one more time.”

Your nose twitches violently, and your eyes well up, unable to contain the swell of mixed emotion inside you. “Tae, don’t speak like that,” you plead, lip quirking to try and make light, “you’re just flattering me because I nursed you back to health.”

Instead of easing at your attempted joke, Taehyung’s face darkens in hurt. “I do understand that you don’t return them, but please do not trivialise my feelings. They are all I have here.”

You don’t quite know what to say like that. Your heart races, such a heavy thud that you wonder if he can feel the vibration through the mattress. “I’m sorry,” you land on, though it’s weak and doesn’t quite encompass all you wish to say. At his tense nod, you try again. “It’s… it’s not true.”

His mouth tilts down in confusion. “What is not true?”

You can’t bear to look at him. You can’t bear to look away. “That I don’t return your feelings.”

Taehyung stays silent for a moment, watching you carefully as your cheeks heat. When he moves, he does so with a careful sigh, fingers stretching out to brush along the back of your hand light enough to tickle. He doesn’t linger on it, letting his hand fall back to his lap.

“You have to think carefully now, my love,” he begins in a measured tone. “This has only happened to me once before and- it isn’t clean. Your contract will end, and we will part. I made the decision last time to seek love, and it very nearly killed me. I adore you far more than is wise, considering the heartbreak I’ve felt before, but I would choose it again. I would choose you and all the pain your absence would ignite. But this is not a decision I make lightly, nor one I can make alone.”

Taehyung’s voice is hushed, a smokey whisper intended only for you. “We can grow closer and face what may come, or we can protect our hearts and remain as we were, as friends and companions. I will take my lessons, and that will be it. I will not turn to anger for it. Please choose wisely.”

With the way he begins to settle himself deeper into the sheets, it’s clear he expects you to take your leave and think it over for a while. But this exact dilemma has been in your mind for far too long, and his near-death experience has provided clarity enough that you don’t wish to waste any more time. “I choose you, Taehyung. If you’ll have me.”

His eyes seek you out. The deep brown belies a flicker of gold as his face tentatively lights up. “And you mean that?”

You nod once. “I’m certain.”

“Then… I would very much like to get up and bathe, so that I may accompany you for- lunch? Breakfast? Whatever the hour is, I find myself rather peckish.”

“Of course!” You stand up quick enough to make your vision blur. “I’ll go make something, are you okay on your own?”

He glances down the side of the bed to the carpeted floor. “Oh, I should think so,” he mentions casually, voice rich with mirth, “it’s not as far a fall as the cliffs.” When Taehyung smiles, you feel your heart race at his beauty. Dark curls have even more volume from going unbrushed for days, and his cheeks are pink. He looks cherubic, angelic, and it takes considerable energy to remember your prior words and leave his side.

The biggest change between the two of you for a while is your proximity.

Taehyung still suffers from occasional headaches, and he walks with a gingerness you hadn’t seen from him before, so neither of you attempt anything out of the ordinary, but no longer do you sit side by side on the couch, or at opposite ends of the table.

Now, you run your fingers through his hair as he lays on your lap in the evenings, and mealtimes are lengthened with interludes of Taehyung holding your hand, or offering you bites from his own plate. His gaze lingers more than his touch, no longer attempting to keep his feelings subtle - if such a thing were ever true.

It isn’t unwelcome; on the contrary, you cherish your time spent with him even more. It feels almost like a fairytale, more so on this island that is entirely bereft of societal obligation or routine. There’s nothing to stop you from spending an entire day in the library, reading out passages that remind you of each other. You can waste away hours attempting to draw portraits, or take long walks through the gardens without concern of how the time is passing.

But perhaps your favourite moments together with him still are his lessons.

These days, you teach him piano with your sides pressed together, his fingers playing over yours as he shadows your movements. He often feigns difficulty in his scales or timing, requesting that you aid him if only to hear you play again.

Truthfully, he’s an incredibly talented student, and when you encourage him enough, he’ll play for you beautifully, rocking on the stool in rhythm.

“It sounds more full when you play, love,” he divulges one day, tapping lightly enough on a key that it barely sounds out, a whisper of a C sharp. He’d been attempting a relatively complex Beethoven piece and would’ve mastered it were it not for his insistence on having you repeat the bars each time he attempted it. “How does that trill go again?”

You bury a smile, reaching up to seek out the right keys. “You know it,” you rebuke softly as you let your fingers flutter over the piano, sweet notes echoing in the large room, “you did it perfectly yesterday.”

“After the accident, my memory is not as it used to be,” he responds, lifting his chin. “I have forgotten it.”

“Then why were you up at 5am this morning practicing without me?” you question mischievously. You’d heard him in the moments were your sleep was light, and had sat up in bed to listen to him play. The sound was muffled through the walls, but you recognised the tune, even going further than the pages you’d taught him before. “Gotcha,” you tease, picking up his hands by the wrists and depositing them in place. “You’re a maestro in the making, Taehyung, don’t you wish to make your teacher proud?”

With one eyebrow raised in challenge, Taehyung concedes. “Alright,” he allows, fingering the ivory, “I was simply wishing to savour the piece as long as possible in the hopes that Captain Kim might have a new one for us when he next comes. I should like to know if any of my favourite musicians have composed something new in these past few months.”

You nod in understanding with a small smile, but something ugly pangs in your chest. Guilt. All of his favourite musicians have been dead for over a hundred years, and he has no idea.

“Are you alright, love? You look away with the fairies? We can end the lesson if you’re tired.”

You shake your head at his worried words, pushing down that sickly emotion. “I’m okay, just zoned out for a moment. Come on; I wanna hear you do the whole thing, we only have a page and a half left.”

“And now,” he starts, his voice suddenly booming and his shoulders high, “all the way from a faraway island, playing Beethoven’s best, it’s Taehyung! Ladies and gentlemen, enjoy.”

You try to let yourself relax and enjoy his beautiful playing, resting your head lightly on his shoulder, but like needles, guilty thoughts prick your conscience. He doesn’t even know his last name.

Taehyung takes the bandage off after a week.

The skin there is a little pale from lack of sunlight, but his eye is bright as ever, blinking happily as his full vision is returned. A partially-healed scar dips from his temple to just behind his ear, silvery-pink.

The headaches aren’t as bad these days, he says, and with his return to health, a strange, childlike excitement arises between you. He holds onto your hand longer when you go for walks, he tucks his chin into the crook of your neck when he hugs you goodnight, lie in his bed in the evenings, legs tangled, talking about nothing and everything for hours before you return to your own room.

But still, you find yourself hesitating. The nature of your deception follows you like a dark cloud. You promised yourself to him, and yet you’re a dam that’s holding him back from the truth of the world. How easy would it be to let something slip and confess all you knew?

These days, he’s reading David Copperfield. While he usually speeds through novels at an alarming pace, it takes him a long time to progress in the Dickens book. In your moments alone, you spot him taking it out and curling up on the couch, holding it close to his chest.

You aren’t familiar with it, so you ask to read it once he’s finished, and a strange look flickers across his face. He agrees, but the answer is so uncertain that you decide not to bring it up again.

Instead, you let him enjoy his private moments, not pressing him. There are plenty of things to do on the island and in the house on your own, anyway, and truth be told you don’t mind the time to think.

It’s one of these days apart. Last you saw, Taehyung is in the field with Lily, reading his book under a tree. She’s more protective of him these days, and if he’s outside, so is she.

You’ve spent the morning at the beach yourself, enjoying the salty air and the sunwarm sand. It feels like the days are going by faster than you can count them, even though you do very little with the time.

Although you’d chosen to pursue something more, it feels like both Taehyung and you are hesitating, procrastinating, and while you know your lingering guilt is what’s holding you back, you can’t help but run circles in your mind trying to work out what his reason is.

There are only a few days before Jin’s next trip. That means the two of you have just over two months left together before you leave him. Is he having second thoughts? Is he remembering his first love, and wondering if it’s all worth it?

You squint at the horizon as if Jin’s ship is going to breach it any moment now. You wonder what he’d say if you told him you’d fallen in love with Taehyung. You wonder if he also feels this overwhelming remorse about keeping Taehyung in the dark.

Every day now, right when the two of you get closer than close, and you think he might be leaning in even more, the urge to spill your secrets floods your system, and you find yourself unable to match the distance.

The sun has passed its zenith; you’ve been here, in this one spot, long enough that the afternoon is hooking it back down again.

You’d be content to spend the day here, running through your options over and over as if the magical solution will spring forth from them, but as if he can hear your thoughts, Taehyung appears.

“Mind if I sit?”

You glance up, startled, and see him casting a shadow over you, the sun making his curls glow burnished bronze. He has a single hand splayed out, gesturing at the sand beside you.

“I mean, it’s a little crowded, but if you can find a spot,” you respond back, rewarded by the smile he sends you at the quip.

“This is an extremely popular destination, I’m not surprised.” He sits down beside you, less dressed than usual. It’s a hot day, and instead of his trimmed suits and cummerbunds, all he wears is a loose cotton blouse, such a pale beige that it shows the shadow of his skin, and a pair of tan pants that clung slightly around his thighs when he crosses his legs. “I wanted to see you.”

“Missed me?”

He simply lifts his brows. “You’d be surprised.”

“I want to ask you something,” you blurt suddenly, half-surprised at the statement. He pauses, leaning on his knees and pinning you with his gaze. “Are you- Are you happy here? You don’t want to go out and explore the world?”

Taehyung tilts his head like he’s confused at the question. “I- Well, I do believe I’m happy. And I can live well here. I have you, and I have Lily, and my art. My home is beautiful.”

This answer doesn’t satisfy you for some reason, and you shift, nervous about your loosening tongue. “Yes, but aren’t you curious? There’s a whole world out there. You barely even ask me what it’s like.”

His face goes solemn, voice a low rumble. “Do you want me to ask about it? What would you be able to tell me?”

Your blood runs cold for a moment, the air freezing in your lungs. Does he…? “What do you mean?”

Instead of answering, Taehyung straightens up again and sends you a soft smile before turning to watch the waves. “I have my art,” he says again, “my books, my music. I get the good things. The beautiful things. Perhaps ignorance can be a beautiful thing, too. I’ll listen to anything you have to say, my love, but I do feel happy with all I have here. Are you worried about me?” he asks, head crooking to send you a wry grin, teeth poking through.

You take in a slow breath. This is something you didn’t consider, that maybe only having the niceties wasn’t entirely cruel at all. But even as you consider letting him keep his ignorance, it feels wrong still.

He was a human, and he deserved the dignity to choose whether he stayed here or ventured out into the world, but right now he didn’t have all the information to make a true choice.

As you watch his eyes wander over you aimlessly, so filled with love that it makes his whole face gleam, you make your decision.

“I- Taehyung, I need to tell you something, but… I want to do something first.” Before I open Pandora’s box, you think.

A flicker of seriousness returns to him, but doesn’t soften the warmth as he reaches over to grasp your arm gently, just above the elbow. “Of course, my love. What is it?”

You take your time lifting your chin to him. Partially to give him time to move away if he wasn’t interested, but partly from the anxiety in your heart that this was all a mistake.

You hear him suck in a breath, thumb stroking over your arm, searing hot through the linen of your dress, but he remains in place, letting you join the gap.

When your lips touch for the first time, it feels like a balloon pops inside you. You jolt with the shock of how soft he is against you, slightly salty from sea air.

You can feel his lip curl up, and in the milimeter between you, he whispers your name like an oath.

It’s the first time, but you kiss him like it’s the last. The arm not in Taehyung’s soft embrace comes up to hook around his shoulder and neck, keeping him close, and he tilts his face to deepen the kiss in approval.

He’s a gentleman all the way, never more than the lightest flicker of his tongue against your lips, but still it’s the most intense kiss you’ve ever had. You feel ablaze like a forest fire, burning bright together under the afternoon sun.

Everything is Taehyung, his lips, his hands, his curls tickling your brow, and you hold yourself to him for as long as you have air in your lungs.

When you pull away, you’re gasping for it, front feeling cold with his absence. He’s blinking away the daze, lips swollen and hair mussled, with one hand buried in the sand for support.

“I-” You swallow away the lump in your throat that lingers, “I hope that was okay.”

Taehyung simply crooks a smile. “I have been waiting for this very moment for quite some time now, my love. It is far more than okay.” His face falls just enough to be noticeable. “What is it you wished to tell me?”

It feels like a bucket of cold seawater has been dumped over you. Reality kicks back in faster than you’re prepared for. “Taehyung,” you begin, almost stumbling over his name itself in your nervousness, “why are you on this island?”

He blinks, frowns, and shakes his head. “Well, this is my home.”

“But why?” you insistently question. “Everyone else in the world is born and lives in a community, a society. The real world. Why are you here, alone?”

The brunette is still, eyes not leaving yours even as his jaw tightens. “You know why. Is that what you wish to tell me?”

Dumbfounded, you reflexively shake your head. “I don’t understand. You’ve never wondered the reason? Never tried to ask anyone until now? You just… don’t know?”

“I’ve simply been informed that this is my place in the world,” he answers at length, voice stiff like he’s reluctant to part with the knowledge, or like he isn’t quite used to saying it aloud. “And what is the point of interrogating one of my tutors further? I’m Socrates’ prisoner, Y/n.” He waves a vague hand around, indicating the island. “This is my shadows in the cave. Perhaps it’s more simplistic than your reality, but it’s all I know.”

Indecision roils angrily in your stomach. A throb has appeared in the back of your head, sharp and unrelenting. “Do you… Would you want to know what it was like?”

It takes him a moment, but Taehyung shrugs, shoulders lifting gracefully under the thin cotton of his shirt. “It seems like you wish to tell me.”

That’s not the black-and-white answer you’re hoping for. Frustrated, you exhale a rough breath. “Taehyung, you’re living a lie,” you confess.

“Quite a nice one,” he remarks simply with a small quirk of his lip, eyes darting to yours before he looks out again at the slowly setting sun. “I imagine there are many people beyond this ocean who are living very painful and unpleasant truths.”

You find yourself lost for words, feeling somewhat defeated. “I guess that’s true… Taehyung, I- I don’t know.”

Taehyung reaches out, fingers brushing lightly against your cheek and chin, pulling an unconscious smile from you. “Anything you desire to tell me, I shall happily listen to.”

The smile doesn’t fade, but your uncertainty is still smoldering away within you. But still, now that you’ve started the conversation, you don’t think you can walk away from it - and eventually from him - knowing that he might be wondering. “I think you deserve to know the truth.”

“That’s kind of you, my love. I’m all ears.”

You get the strangest sensation that while he’s not averse to finding out, he doesn’t seem all that curious either. But then again, you can’t begin to imagine how you would react in this kind of situation. He has no idea of how much he doesn’t know about the world, that perhaps it doesn’t feel as important as you think it is.

Pushing on nonetheless, you adjust yourself in the sand to face him head-on. He mirrors you, raising his eyebrow in what appears to be amusement at your somber disposition.

“Taehyung,” you begin, “your father did something terrible. Has anyone told you anything about him, or your mother?”

“What did he do?” he asks instead, eyes locked on yours more intently now.

“He got a lot of people killed. Children among them. You were a baby at the time, Tae, and they were worried about you and your wellbeing if you were raised in that kind of environment.”

“They,” he muses wryly to himself. “Why did they not send me to another country, then? Or simply hand me into an orphanage as a nobody?”

“That’s…” you suck in a deep breath. “I mean, I can’t tell you for sure, but in our world, we have a lot of- of modern inventions that make it very easy to find out information about anything. I think they felt that nowhere you were registered would be safe enough for you.”

Something strange crosses Taehyung then, like a ghost or a shadow passing over. He sinks into himself slightly, and the light air evaporates. He watches you with baleful eyes. “Did they tell you it was for my safety?”

You blink. “You- know them? And why is that…?” You can’t quite process the words he says in time, and you feel your brain racing to keep up with potential implications and hidden meanings. “Taehyung, what is going on?”

To avoid looking into your eyes, he plunges his hand into the sand and pulls loose a handful, watching the golden grains pour through his splayed fingers. When he speaks, his voice is rueful. “I have not been entirely honest with you either. To tell you the truth now, I was waiting. Waiting to see if you would do exactly this.”

“Waiting to do what? What do you mean, not being honest with me?”

“I have been acting entirely naive of your world when that is not the case. Captain Kim, Jin, he tells me what he can. I have not met the ones that put me here as an infant, but he has explained my unique predicament as far as he sees it. I am happy to accept this fate, but it deeply troubles Jin. He hides it well, is excellent at playing innocent, though all the while is digging into this matter as deep as he can.”

“Jin told you everything? Not just about you, but about… the world? Technology, current affairs?”

“Ah, how current could it be when I only have the pleasure of his company six days a year?” Taehyung questions rhetorically. “He provides important updates in my case should there be any, and otherwise shares news from the outside world.”

You frown. “When did he have the chance to tell you that stuff? We were with him together.”

Taehyung’s smile is rich with mirth, eyes glinting through his low-hanging curls. “I believe you’ll find if I lend you my copy of David Copperfield, it will have less about Victorian England and more about the new anti-discrimination policy in South Korea. I must say, out of the whole world, I find myself most fascinated with them. They are the people that rejected me, but they are still my people.”

Reeling from this, you sink your chin into your hands. He had been extremely protective over the novel, but never would you have guessed that the ship captain was the one smuggling modern information into Taehyung’s limited world. “What- what about your case then? What is Jin finding out?”

When Taehyung beams again, it’s faraway and nostalgic. “He works with some people together on it. The son of the man who put me here, I believe you know him?”

“Hoseok?” you question, internally pleased he was one of the people helping out.

“That’s right,” Taehyung confirms. “I wish I could meet him to thank him personally. But him, and many of my past tutors… They connect in secret, trying to expose the nature of my exile to the world. It appears the decision to leave me here is considered among those in the know to be a mistake, though the ones in charge are the rare few who maintain its secrecy. Jin believes they fear the public reproach for their actions. You’ve met one of them; would you agree?”

“I-” You don’t have to think for much. “He seemed nice, but knowing the way most people in power are - yeah, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

Taehyung nods slowly. “I find it a shame that those words are true of your society. But nevertheless, Jin and his band of renegades are seeking to reveal me to the world and return me to modern society. It shall be quite a spectacle, I do not doubt.”

You frown, brows furrowing at the serene look on his face. “But do you want that? The spectacle?”

Silence blooms between you. Slowly, his slight smile turns melancholy. “I don’t believe I do.”

He falls silent after that, and despite your best effort to put your thoughts into order, to comment on how sad you find that lack of control, you can’t quite work out what to say.

You keep each other’s quiet company until the dusk air begins to chill your skin, and then you make your way back to the house, wasting away the last of the evening with the violin and the piano ebbing away at the solemn hush.

As the weeks go by, the weather cools, leaving you ever-aware of your shrinking time together. Both of you quietly dreading the news Jin might bring.

You spend more and more time tangled in his arms, kissing until you feel dizzy with it, but he never once takes it further. You’re not sure if it’s hesitance or reverence, but you’re quite content with what he chooses to give you.

Taehyung improves further in his studies, exponentially so. It’s hard to believe he’s only been learning it for four months, but his background in other instruments paired with the frenetic enthusiasm he’s garnered recently no doubt contribute to his quick proficiency.

The lessons get longer, but they don’t tire you. Instead, your heart swells with pride and fondness at his progress and his beautiful playing. He picks up on the emotion of each piece more than even you can; it’s no rare occasion that you feel yourself on the verge of tears or even laughter from his nimble fingers and the gorgeous bars they produce.

Like that fateful storm was flagging the end of the season, the weather begins to cool. The seawinds that rip up the coast are not as balmy as before, and you find the night air brings a unique chill once the sun reliquishes its hold.

As autumn closes in, the season of harvest begins, and Taehyung takes it upon himself to teach you how to tell when different fruits and vegetables are ripe, when to pluck them from their roots. Ever-diligent, he makes sure that the reserves of grain and feed for the animals are enough to last until Jin’s arrival and then some, and that the two of you don’t eat too many rations before he comes.

“You never know,” he mentions one day, “sometimes the ship can’t come on time for whatever reason.”

The two of you are enjoying a picnic in the midday warmth, savouring it while it lasts. A blanket covers a patch of grass in the back field, providing you a scenic view of the mountain’s crest to enjoy over sandwiches and cakes.

Taehyung is lying on his back, elbows propping himself up as he soaks in the warm rays. The golden light skips along his features, highlighting the moles and blemishes of his skin, but it only makes him look more heavenly. You get so caught up in observing him that you realise belatedly that he’s continued your prior conversation.

You hastily swallow down your mouthful of tangy lemonade. “Does that happen often?”

“Not outside of the stormy seasons,” Taehyung divulges. “Once, when I was a young boy - before Jin’s time, even - the ship took damage on a different route. It took a month to be fully repaired. It was my first winter without a carer, and I did not think it unwise to eat indulgently from the stores. I drained them bare, and spent three weeks scavenging on the island, eating what I could. I was foolish. Never again.”

You frown. “You were a child,” you state emphatically.

“Perhaps,” he admits stiffly, running a hand through his hair to bare his forehead, before the curls spring back, “but I did not have the luxury of a parent to hold my hand and tell me right from wrong. I learnt responsibility the hard way, but I learnt it quickly.”

“How old were you?” you ask softly, stomach curling. “When your carer first left?”

He has to think on it for a moment. “I believe I was eight years old.”

The number strikes through you like an icicle. “I- Tae, I’m so sorry. That’s inhumane. What if you’d died?”

He smiles guilelessly, eyes bleak. “My death is not an issue for them, Y/n, not really. Would it not make their lives easier? What they provide me is a courtesy. Something that, if word got out, they could use to ease the blow of their actions. But do not believe that they truly care about my safety. I am their skeleton in the closet.”

You watch him carefully from across the picnic blanket. He’s dressed up today, as if for the occasion of a picnic with you, but chosen to leave his suit jacket folded over on the grass. What remains reveals more of his figure, from the fitted cornflower blue shirt, tight cummerbund, and ankles peeking between his brown pant cuffs and black shoes.

Most of all, you take in his expression. There’s acceptance there, a bittersweet understanding of his place in the world, at least the world they’ve created for him. A branch of the government of a country he didn’t really understand, dictating his exile. You believe that’s the melancholy note in his eyes you saw in that very first picture of him, way back in your home country when Hoseok was briefing you.

It upsets you to see it now, when for so long his face had been brighter with your company. It’s that desire to see the sun glint in his eyes again that has you blurting it out.

“We could run away, you know. Just the two of us.”

Taehyung seems startled at your suggestion, brows furrowing. “Without anyone knowing? It doesn’t seem possible. My only hope of leaving this island is the whistleblowing Jin and Hoseok are working towards.”

You rack your brain, thinking back to you contract. You’d signed away your privacy forever in an instant, and only now are you realising the implications of why that might’ve been a necessary component of your employment. “There must be another way,” you mumble, heart aching for him.

“I’ve been informed they have quite a significant power in that society,” Taehyung explains gently, eyes soft, “and Hoseok worries that we do not have the resources to keep my return and continued presence there a secret. None of us know what would happen if we broke this isolation.”

He watches you, but you stay silent, sullen. “I know you only wish well for me,” he continues. “But I ask for your understanding when I tell you that this is something I fear, and a risk I am not willing to take. Besides,” he states, more lightly than before, “I will not leave Lily behind.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” you offer up, but you know the matter is closed. He’s right, you do understand that, but the situation feels so unfair that it’s difficult to accept it. You reach out for a slice of almond cake and munch quietly, trying to remind yourself that life back home wouldn’t necessarily be better for him just because it’s modern. Just because it’s what you know. “I’m sorry.”

“There is no need to be, my love. To be candid with you, even if Jin and Hoseok decide to reveal the nature of my situation to the world, I’m not sure I would wish to join society. Travel, yes, I long to see the world, but it is not mine to live in. As much as I can’t ask you to stay in mine. You see?”

Your eyes sting. You’ve been so focussed on trying to liberate Tae from this all that you almost forgot your own contract was ending. What would it be like, going back to the real world, leaving him behind? You don’t think you’re ready to conceive it yet. “I see.”

Taehyung sends you a smile, then, wise and sympathetic. “The air is turning cool. Let’s go back inside.”

That’s the last you two speak of it until Jin comes.

He arrives a day early, catching the two of you off-guard in your blissful denial.

So caught up in a stroll along the back beach where the shells were the pearliest, he’s already docked the ship and is inside with a cup of tea and a biscuit by the time you get back inside.

“So,” he starts off immediately,” an intelligent glint in his eye, “been having a pleasant time?”

Never one to mince words, Taehyung pulls him into a brief but tight hug and nods once. “A tantalising mix of love and near-death experiences.”

Jin freezes, rubber boots squeaking on the marble flooring. “What was that last part?”

You chew on the inside of your lip as Taehyung recounts the story jovially, pulling out a chair for you and for him as he goes. It still baffles you just how casual and unruffled he can be about his own safety, and to your relief it seems to upset Jin just as much.

“You know I love you, old chap, so please know that I mean this wholeheartedly, but you are absolutely insane.”

Taehyung blinks, lips curving down. “You don’t have to speak like me anymore. She knows that I know. We’ve shared everything.”

Jin lets out a deep sigh, and using the backs of his knuckles he pushes his small china plate further away from him. “I- That’s great, Tae. I had wondered… But don’t try to change the subject. How can you care so little about your own life when there are many who care for you? When there are countless animals on this island that need you to care for them?”

With a shrug, Taehyung sobers up. “It was exactly because I cared for them that I went out there in the rain. And I am very aware of my situation, Captain. My death would cause very few ripples, and I know you know it too.”

Jin stiffens when Taehyung uses his title. He looks pained, wrinkles around his eyes looking more weathered than moments before. “You’ve always been so frivolous with your own life,” he sighs, voice a low rumble. “Look, kid, I didn’t come here to lecture you. In fact… Well, the reason I’m early is because I brought a visitor.”

Selfishly, a zing shoots down your spine like you’ve been betrayed. “A new tutor? But my contract isn’t up yet.”

But Taehyung is locked in on Jin, gaze intent. “Who is it? Where are they?”

“He was sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake him,” Jin explains, “but he should be…” The sea captain trails off as a faint click sounds out through the near-empty villa.

The three of you fall silent and listen to the sounds that echo out. You can picture it so clearly; the clack of boots on the marble, the whip-like swish of laces being tugged through eyelets, and finally the dull thumping of socked feet.

A voice calls out a word unfamiliar to you, “hyung?”, and Taehyung goes stiff like he’s been shocked, eyes flying wide open, facing the doorway to the kitchen.

“He just finished his service, was discharged yesterday.” Jin’s voice is soft, and if it wasn’t for the minute twitch in Taehyung’s fingers, you would think he wasn’t even listening. “The first thing he did was call me and ask if he could make it in time to come see you.”

“To come see me,” Taehyung repeats numbly, barely audible. The moment a tall figure rounds the corner, he sucks in a strangled breath, lips moving soundlessly.

You manage to tear your gaze from Taehyung and look in the doorway instead. The man standing there is young, perhaps Taehyung’s age, and his hair is dark, cropped tight around his ears and slightly longer on the top, like the military buzzcut has started to grow out. One ear has piercings running up its length, and you see the glimpse of tattoos curling around his right wrist. What shocks you most, however, is the modern clothes he’s wearing.

After spending months in dresses and pinafores, and seeing nobody but Taehyung in his fine attire, you’ve almost forgot what streetwear looks like, and it seems so dissonant in the context of the house. He’s in all black; an oversize t-shirt is partly tucked into tough-looking camo pants with bulky pockets. Tucked under one arm is a leather jacket.

Despite his intimidating outfit and muscular build, you find yourself most drawn in by the gentle look on his face. He has high cheeks that puff up with a small smile, eyes glittering as he calls out Taehyung’s name in a sweet tone.

Jin leans back in his chair, content to watch the interaction, looking fond as if they’re his family reuniting.

You feel like you could be intruding on a private moment, but you’re fascinated at the introduction of this new figure, the first other person you’ve seen since you said goodbye to Hoseok at the docks four months ago.

The man takes another step forward, almost shy, and with that, the dam breaks.

Taehyung leaps up with such intensity that he catches his hip on the table, lifting it off the floor and dropping it with a bang. He doesn’t so much as flinch at the loud noise, already rushing forward to capture the visitor in a tight hug, face buried deeply in the crook of his neck.

As if reflexively, the man’s hand comes up Taehyung’s back and cups the nape of his neck, holding him there with closed eyes and a trembling smile. “I missed you,” he whispers quietly, thick with emotion.

This only makes Taehyung burrow in deeper, looking small in the beefier man’s embrace. “I’ve thought about you every day since you left,” he confesses, pulling away enough to look him in the eye, but gripping onto his forearms with enough force to turn his knuckles white. “Jungkook, you’ve changed so much.”

“Not in the ways that matter, hyung,” the man, Jungkook, responds emphatically. The term isn’t one you recognise from your studies about the 1800s, so you guess it’s something specific to Jungkook, but it doesn’t take much to work out it’s a term of endearment. “You haven’t changed at all. More handsome, maybe.”

Taehyung almost melts at that, shoulders slipping low. “Will you stay this time, love?”

With that last word, your nervous system freezes over. The mention of the Jungkook Taehyung had once told you about comes rushing back. The one who used to tutor him, the one who brought him a tiger as a pet, his first love. Of course.

For the first time in nearly four months, you feel like you don’t belong here.

Instead of affirming entirely, Jungkook reaches out and places a broad palm on Taehyung’s cheek, brows lowering to emphasise his words. “We need to sit down and talk, hyung. All of us.” His gaze lifts to Jin, who nods back solemnly, and then to you. “I’m so sorry, how rude of me! I better introduce myself.”

Taehyung turns, letting his hands drop from Jungkook’s arms. You can’t help the way your heart leaps when you make eye contact with him again, the jealous urge to run up and kiss him silly. Instead, you reassure yourself with the fondness in his eyes. “It’s okay,” you answer Jungkook, “my name is Y/n, it’s nice to meet you. Taehyung told me about you.”

“Did he?” Jungkook’s eyes glint with a mix of mirth and delight. “I’m glad to hear I wasn’t forgotten.”

“I could never-” Taehyung starts fervently, head shaking at the mere suggestion. “I thought you would never return, Jungkook.”

There’s not enough chairs for four people. Instead, Jungkook pulls up a chest from the kitchen, the one you keep your salted meats in, and straddles it like a stool. You don’t miss how Taehyung scoots his chair closer to him, as if he might disappear at any moment. “I’m sorry, hyung. I had to leave. I know it didn’t feel… fair, but it was for the best. I went to university, did you know that?”

Taehyung perks up a little, though uncertainty clouds his gaze. “I thought you went into the military.”

Jungkook nods once. “I- at the time, I got accepted into my university, in a really good program, and I decided to put off my consignment until after I graduated.”

“You graduated?”

Jungkook grins wryly at Taehyung’s question. “Of course I did, hyung, can you imagine me quitting? I’m now qualified to teach Korean as a foreign language.”

You pipe up, curious about what his life was like after leaving a job placement like this. “Why did you choose that? Tae said you did carpentry here.”

Jungkook seems pleased that Taehyung passed that information to you, and nods at you warmly. Despite only just being reunited with his first love, the man gives you his full attention, seeming genuinely interested in making conversation with you. It makes your jealousy simmer down to a low smoulder.

“Well, I was actually the first other Korean person to accept the tutor gig. Most of the people before then had been from… England, was it?”

“England and Wales,” Taehyung adds in lightly, voice all quiet and contented. “When Jungkook came, I barely knew Korea existed. I had no idea why all the painting prints I’d seen didn’t look like me.”

Jungkook presses his lips together, eyes distant in memory. “I had been learning English since elementary school, but I was pretty rubbish at it. When I first got on the island, hyung and I practically had to mime to communicate anything. I’d never heard an accent like his, really.”

Taehyung’s eyes glimmer. “You looked so young back then, like a deer. The biggest eyes I’d ever seen. Despite how grown-up you appear now, you have the same eyes, love. I’d recognise them anywhere.”

With a hand reaching over to gently grasp at Taehyung’s, Jungkook continues his piece. “You pick things up quickly, in a situation like that. I could speak near fluently by the time I returned to South Korea, and I like to think I taught hyung the important things in Korean, too.”

Taehyung interjects to mumble something in Korean, too quick for you to even catch the syllables. But both Jin and Jungkook react, the former smiling sadly, and the latter leaning in close to rest his head on Taehyung’s shoulder briefly. “Me too,” he whispers back, fingers intertwined tightly.

Jungkook sits up to continue, though their hands remain linked. “Anyways, I had always dreamed of bringing Taehyung home with me, but I knew it would be difficult enough for him to navigate modern life without an added language barrier. So I decided to become a better teacher for him.”

Taehyung straightens up, eyes almost feverish. “So you left to- to help me?”

“I was always gonna come back for you, hyung. Surely you must have known that.”

Fiddling with his cuffs, Taehyung nods. “I’m just relieved you’re with me again. But Jungkook… There’s something you must know. Y/n and I…”

You jerk a little in your seat with the surprise of it. You’d felt a bit like a leftover, no longer needed, but Taehyung ropes you back in with an ease. While one hand remains connected to Jungkook, the other reaches out to link with one of yours.

Relishing in the contact, you squeeze his hand fondly even as you watch Jungkook and Jin’s reactions with anticipation.

Jin just smiles ruefully, shaking his head. “What are the odds, huh? Finding love twice in the middle of nowhere.”

“If you’ve moved on, hyung, I understand,” Jungkook offers up kindly, voice low.

“No, of course not, I-” Taehyung shakes his head intently. “My love is not a monologue, Jungkook, it is an orchestra, and I am allowed to love you both. I do love you both. And Jin… while not with the same intent, I love you too.”

“Hey, no harm, no foul,” Jin jibes easily, “there’s no need to explain. I love you, Tae, you’re the little brother I never had. This does put us in a difficult situation, though. Where do we go from here?”

Taehyung lets out a slow sigh, tugging both of his hands - still attached - into his lap. Your fingers twitch when your knuckles brush with Jungkook’s, and he sends you a sly smile like you’re sharing an inside joke. The last of your selfish desires sputter out with how kind and accepting he is, and you feel silly for feeling so envious upon first encountering him.

“Are there any updates on the case?” Jungkook asks Jin carefully when Taehyung fails to respond.

“To be quite frank, we’re running out of time to make a move,” he explains. “Mr. Jung and his colleague are planning on retiring very soon, and Hoseok tells me they have plans to destroy all evidence of what happened with Taehyung entirely.”

You frown. “What does that mean exactly? What changes?”

“First of all, if there’s no evidence, there’s nothing we can use to make them accountable and charge them,” Jin divulges. “And it’s not just the evidence of my shipping routes and the tutor contracts. It’s believed they have everything locked away, including Tae’s birth certificate.”

“And they want to destroy it,” Jungkook summises, looking angry for the first time you’ve seen. His knuckles are white as they grip Tae’s fingers, but the brunette doesn’t even react.

“I would simply cease to exist,” Taehyung offers up in a whisper. His expression is unreadable, his tone level, and you wish you knew what was going on behind those intelligent eyes of his. “So what do you propose?”

Jin pauses for a moment, locking eyes with Jungkook. “Well… There are options.”

“Jin and Hoseok want to bring you to the Hanawon institution,” Jungkook states tightly.

“What is that?” you question. Taehyung also seems unfamiliar, jaw tensing warily.

“It’s a place for North Korean defectors to be educated on South Korean society and helped to settle there safely,” Jin elaborates. “But Hoseok knows someone there that could change Taehyung’s identity. He’d have a chance to learn how to function in the modern world without raising suspicion, and he could live a fulfilling life. It’s the best we’re gonna get, Tae.”

Taehyung looks down to the tangle of hands in his lap. You feel him rub his thumb slowly over your knuckles. “And what would happen to the others?” he asks carefully, not making eye contact.

At this question, Jin shifts in his chair, mouth tight. “That depends. Mr. Jung still has surveillance on past tutors. Even if he destroys the evidence, we’re unsure if he would still keep tabs on them himself to try and stop the word from getting out. It wouldn’t be wise to make contact.”

Taehyung’s head shoots up to look imploringly at Jungkook. “But you are with me now. Are they watching even here?”

Jungkook bites his tongue. “I have a friend living in my apartment, using my gas and electricity and sending correspondence as if he were me. It’s risky, and it won’t be possible for very long.”

“So I would not see you again? See Y/n again?” Taehyung’s voice is strangled, like the very thought is choking him.

You fight the urge to speak up, knowing the decision must be his, but dreading the answer either way.

Jin clears his throat lightly, with a sympathetic smile. “We can’t work miracles, Tae. Perhaps in time, if it seems like they’ve stopped-”

“It’s unacceptable,” the man hisses. You flinch at the intensity in his tone. “I appreciate your efforts, Jin, but this is simply unacceptable. I will not give them up on a ‘perhaps.’ I will not.”

“I understand, it’s a tough decision, but please think-”

“You said there were options.” Taehyung’s nails are digging in lightly, but you don’t think he even realises, shivering in his chair with barely restrained emotion. “What else can I do?”

“You stay here,” Jin states flatly, resigned. “You stay here, and they remove all evidence of you, which means that they’ll never send another tutor again, and the only person you’ll ever see is me dropping off supplies every few months, if they’re kind enough to continue paying me off the records. That’s the other option. Okay? I’m sorry, Tae.”

Despite it not being your future, you find your eyes prickling violently. Everything blurs a little, and you try to blink and sniff away your tears undetected.

On the other side of Taehyung, Jungkook is hanging his head, lifting their clasped hands to press a kiss to Taehyung’s knuckles. “I wish I could give you more,” he says, whispering it against his skin. “I don’t have a solution, hyung, but- I want to offer you something.”

Taehyung frowns, breaths shaky. “What is it, love?”

“I bought a boat off a friend. All cash, there’s no record of it. Not as impressive as Jin’s ship, but she’s seaworthy, and there’s room for two. Maybe three,” he adds, eyes sliding briefly to you. “My friend, the one staying in my apartment, he’s enlisting for his service in 13 months, and he’s promised to hold my place for that long if I need it.”

“Jungkook, what does this all mean?”

“I don’t know what the future holds for you, and I can’t choose for you,” Jungkook begins. Jin’s posture has slackened, but he still maintains the solemn air that’s filled the room. Taehyung has his eyes latched onto Jungkook as if he is the only beam of hope in that despairing haze.

“But I know you,” the black-haired man continues, “I know you always wanted to see the world, just like Fogg and Passepartout. Perhaps you wouldn’t be able to visit cities and towns, but there’s plenty to see from a boat, hyung, and I know there are plenty of uninhabited islands we could see too. I can hunt and fish, and Jin said he’d bring us supplies if we needed them. I wish I could give you forever, hyung, but at least I can give you a year.”

Taehyung looks utterly bewildered, and in his shock, he loosens his grip on your hand, turning to Jin. “We could do it? We could really see the world?”

Jin nods slowly. “It… would be possible,” he states carefully. “It’s risky; it would be much harder to get you accepted into the Hanawon institute in a year’s time with no evidence of your existence to show for it, but we could do it. I know you’d have to give up a lot, Tae, but if you have a year to think on it, then maybe you’ll see that we just want the best for you.”

With a hopeful look in his eyes, Taehyung drops both your hands and stands up, pacing the room. “Well, I- we have to pack! Y/n, gather your things, just the necessities. Jungkook, are your clothes back on the mainland? How long do we have before-”

He freezes suddenly, staring out the kitchen window. You crane your neck and see in the paddocks and fields outside, a streak of orange as Lily lounges in the sun.

The three of you stay silent as Taehyung watches her for a moment, his breathing the only sound. “I can’t go,” he states eventually, sinking into himself and leaning against the kitchen counter with his whole body weight. “I can’t leave her alone.” He furrows his brows. “How big is the boat, Jungkook?”

But even you can hear the way he already knows the answer. Jungkook does too. “Hyung, even if it were a massive cruise liner, we can’t take Lily on a boat. We don’t have enough meat for her. And she needs the open space to roam. I’m sorry. But…” His eyes flicker around the room, unfocused as he thinks of a solution.

Taehyung looks deflated, hollowed out by the fallen hope. “I’ve only just been returned to you, love, I cannot lose you so soon.”

“I didn’t even think about it,” Jungkook admits quietly, low enough that Taehyung can’t hear. Jin reaches over to grip comfortingly at Jungkook’s shoulder, but the brief spark of joy in them all has been extinguished.

At that moment, as Taehyung sinks to the floor and leans back hopelessly against the cabinets, as Jungkook curses himself and Jin helplessly looks back and forth between them, an idea strikes you.

An idea that you would never even have considered were it not for how much you love Tae, and how visibly much him and Jungkook love each other. Or for the fact that you know the expression he got on his face when he read Jules Verne, and the desire he had to see things other than this island.

You had the urge to tell him about the modern world because you believed strongly that he deserved to know and deserved to see it, and now you realise just how much you’re willing to give up to see that through.

“I’ll stay,” you say, and everyone goes still.

Jin is the first one to recover slightly. “What?”

“I’ll stay here with Lily,” you add, avoiding Tae’s eyes, not wanting to see his reaction just yet. “Tae and Jungkook can take the boat, and I can stay here and take care of her. Jin, could you keep doing your routes every three months?”

“Y/n,” Taehyung starts softly, but Jin nods once at you.

“I absolutely could,” he confirms, “if they left, they’d be doing so without informing anyone. Hoseok believes that when they destroy the evidence of the shipping route, they’ll start to pay me cash and forge the records. It seems even those assholes aren’t willing to fully screw Tae over.”

“How can you offer this?” Taehyung asks of you finally, voice cutting deep to your core. You can’t help but turn to face him, heart breaking at the way he looks so small and defeated sitting on the kitchen floor, yet his eyes burn with an intensity at the thought of you staying here alone. “How can you give up a year of your life in exile just for me to delay my own future? I cannot ask that much of you.”

You shake your head. “You’re not asking. I’m offering. I’ll ‘extend’ my contract another year and make sure Lily is safe and healthy here. I can look after the other animals, too. I can even garden now that you’ve taught me. You deserve to see the world, Tae. I want you to go and live.”

“I… Y/n…” He trails off, eyes pained, flickering between you and Jungkook, who simply gives him a small nod. “A year is a long time.”

“It is,” you admit, “but you’ve done it before. I can do it too. Let me do this for you, Tae. I love you, and that means I want you to be happy.”

Taehyung’s nose twitches sharply, his eyes flooding with tears. “I shall miss you terribly.”

You nod, heart racing. Are you really doing this? But you can’t take it back now, and part of your heightened pulse is undoubtably excitement for Taehyung, of all he will finally get to experience alongside the man he loves. “I’ll wait for you. It’s okay.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off you, but addresses the others. “How much time do we have?”

Jin grimaces. “I have another route leaving from Busan in about 26 hours. I can put it off until tomorrow morning at the latest.”

Taehyung nods grimly. “Then I ask that the two of you make yourselves at home in one of the spare bedrooms in the east wing. I wish to spend this last night with Y/n.”

“Of course,” Jungkook responds immediately, and to your surprise, when he stands, he turns to you first. “What you’re doing is huge, and I owe you a massive thank you. Are you a hugger?”

You smile at his question, happily burrowing yourself in his chest for a tight hug. He’s still very well built from his time in the military, but his embrace is soft and comforting. Even in your short time together, you think you might miss his company too, hoping that when they return the two of you could become friends irrelevant of Tae’s outcome.

Jin hugs you too while Jungkook and Taehyung make their temporary goodnights, and you breathe in his now-familiar musk of sea-salt. “This means a lot, Y/n, to all the people in this room tonight, and more.” When he releases the hug, he leans in closer, voice dropping in secret. “Don’t tell Taehyung, but I could probably adjust my schedule to spend a few days with you each time I visit. How about that?”

You grin at him. “I’ll hold you to that. Goodnight, Jin.”

Without it needing to be spoken aloud, you and Taehyung share a bed for the first time.

You lay curled against him under the sheets, holding onto his arm like an anchor. With your head propped up against his slender chest, you hear every heartbeat, and the warm resonance of his voice as he speaks.

“You can change your mind,” he mumbles. “I would understand.”

“I won’t,” you respond firmly, fingertips trailing lazy patterns on the skin of his arm beneath his nightshirt’s loose sleeve. “I’ve made my decision.”

“May I admit something?” he asks softly into the darkness of the room. You hum your confirmation. “Jin was kind to wish me a fulfilling life by going through the institute. But I believe I would live a more fulfilling life were I allowed to remain on the island with you three.”

You wait for more, but he lapses into silence, mulling on his own words. “Are you asking me to stay when you get back?”

“I will not ask such grandiose sacrifices of you or Jungkook,” he answers. His chin presses on the top of your head, and you sigh into the contact. “It is simply a fantasy.”

“I think I would do it.”

“What?”

You nod, careful not to jostle him. “I would stay with you both, I think. I have a feeling Jungkook would too.”

“What about your acquaintences back home? Your family?”

“I think I was chosen because I didn’t really have any,” you admit. “You know, I spent so long hyper-aware of the fact that I was lying to you about the world, that you were unaware of things, that I really never thought about things objectively. I assumed the modern world was better just because it was more true.”

“And now?” Taehyung asks softly, when you take a few moments to gather your words.

You hum to yourself. “I think I see what you mean about having a good life here.”

“Jin can’t do the shipments forever,” Taehyung points out.

But your eyes are heavy, and despite having limited time with Taehyung, you’re fighting sleep. “Mm, that’s a problem for us a year from now.”

Taehyung laughs breathily, hand shifting to tilt your chin up so he can lay a series of delicate kisses on your lips. “I love you,” he utters.

“I love you too,” you respond easily, adjusting yourself into a position you can fall asleep in.

For a few moments, you enjoy the warmth of his body against yours, the regular sound of his breathing. Your eyes prickle, dreading how much everything will change tomorrow, even though you still stand by your choice.

“Taehyung?”

You almost think you’ve left it too late, that he’s already asleep, but he lets out a noise of acknowledgement in his throat that rumbles through his chest.

“Tae, can I ask a favor?”

“Anything, my love.”

“Tomorrow…” You bite your lip. “Can you leave without waking me up? I don’t think I can say goodbye.” Your voice cracks on the last word, lip trembling violently, and his grip tightens around you in comfort.

Taehyung lets out a sad sigh, resting his cheek against the crown of your head. “If it is your wish, I will comply.”

“Thank you,” you say. And, because you don’t want that to be the last thing he hears from you for a year, you tell him you love him again, repeating it in your head like a mantra until you cease to think entirely.

The first few weeks feel impossible to endure.

Every sunrise gets a new pencilled line on the inside cover of Taehyung’s favourite book. You’ve started reading it, one page at a time to make it last longer.

Lily keeps you company, unsure where her best friend has gone. You put all your focus into maintaining a schedule of caring for her, the chickens and the other farm animals. It keeps you sane, if nothing else, and passes the time.

Jin stays for three days on his first visit. You cry for hours that first night with him to keep you company. The second night is for drinking away your sorrows and having him catch you up on all the shows and movies you’re missing out on. He even brings his phone and multiple portable batteries, letting you listen to his extensive library of downloaded music.

On the final night, you just talk. Sober, solemn, but hopeful too. He got a few postcards in the mail over those three months. Fiji, Papa New Guinea, and the Philippines. They’re safe, he tells you, and enjoying their long-awaited freedom.

The second period of solitude isn’t as bad. Jin leaves on a positive note, promising to bring you your favourite snacks from home if he can find them, and you start on the new books he’d brought with him.

Your plan is to make your way through Taehyung’s entire library before he gets back. You want to learn more about him, and while he isn’t here with you, you have his entire childhood and young adult life at your disposal. Reading becomes almost ritualistic for you, a way to connect to him.

It feels like half the time when Jin comes again. His rare correspondence divulges that Jungkook and Taehyung have made their way around the northern coast of Australia, across to Sri Lanka, and he’d received one last handscrawled letter stamped from Madagascar.

He brings them with him this time, lets you pore over their handwriting, memorising Taehyung’s prose as he retells what the sunset on the Indian Ocean looks like. They’re going around the world, it seems, though in the opposite direction to the path of Fogg and Passepartout in his book.

They ask after you, Taehyung more longingly than the other, but Jin is unable to return the correspondence due to the nature of their travel and how long the post takes.

But even the reminder that they’re still thinking of you, that Taehyung finishes every last message with a confession of his love and desire to be reunited soon, is enough to cheer up your spirits.

The seasons change. You grow used to being alone, though everything just feels so quiet all the time. You’ve passed halfway, however, and every morning you watch the inside cover of the Verne novel fill with grey lines.

Some nights you sleep in the stable with Lily, just to hear the sound of another living being. On those nights, you cry and wonder if Taehyung had done the same growing up as lonely as he did. It always warms you inside to think of him now, together with Jungkook in some foreign timezone breathing in fresh air and seeing new coasts.

When winter closes in, you reign in the animals early, not wanting to risk a storm like the one that almost claimed Taehyung. You find yourself naming them as if they’re your pets, wondering if Taehyung would find the names funny or well-suited.

Everything you do makes you think of him. Reflexively, despairingly, hopefully. He invades your train of thought more often than not. Even then, you find yourself forgetting the details of his face. You recall his moles, but not the arches and swells of the skin around it. You know his hair tickled your forehead when you kissed, but you can’t quite place how it sat on his head.

As the days pass, and your strokes flow beyond the acknowledgements and contents pages, your lover grows blurred in your memories.

It’s that realisation that makes the final days more difficult to bear.

Jin comes late after nine months, and when he does, he’s unable to stay.

The missed expectation knocks you out of your expectation and routine, and in his absence you feel more hollow than usual.

The air is still nippy, and you find yourself aching in wait of spring. When you aren’t out feeding Lily and the farm animals, you’re in Taehyung’s bed, wishing his sheets still smelt like him.

You can’t focus on his books, though there is only a shelf and a half remaining for you to read. You drag the record player heavily down the hallway so that you can listen while curled up underneath the blankets, eyes squeezed shut tight and picturing him playing for you.

You write your tallies of the days in the margins of the first chapter now, avoiding the text.

One day it occurs to you that Taehyung might return upset at you for ruining his favourite novel, and the thought sends you into a depressive, guilt-ridden episode that leaves you crying and restless for days.

You count the tally obsessively. 348, 349, 350 strokes.

It’s when you hit the final week that a frantic panic overcomes you. The villa is a mess and the gardens aren’t well tended. They can’t return to dirty, untidy place.

It takes you three days just to clean everything up and return your belongings back to your own room.

353.

You track down a recipe book among Taehyung’s books, and use up some of the dregs of the flour and sugar to bake some muffins. You try one, but save the rest for them to return.

354.

It occurs to you that you’re not sure whether they’ll come on their boat or meet up with Jin first. You wish there was a way to ask, but of course, you’re stuck here not knowing.

Perhaps they’ll come early and surprise you.

355.

You recount the strokes at random points during the day. Despite counting down for several days now, you find yourself suddenly attacked by onsets of panic and anxiety, as if you might be far off and they’re still 100 days away.

356.

You can’t sleep. Instead, you take Lily down to the front beach and wait on the docks. Even Lily is filled with anxious energy, like she is anticipating his return.

The hours drag by slower than they ever have. You come inside in the late afternoon to boil some water for tea.

The sun sinks below the horizon, with no ships on it. Just in case, you do a lap of the island. It takes a while with how carefully you look. Lily loses interest and returns, but you do a second sweep just to be sure.

357.

In the early hours of the morning, you run down to check the coast again. The whole island is quiet; even the seabirds haven’t come to scout the bay.

When you return alone to the house, you hesitate on writing another dash in the book. Surely today.

Just to be safe, you flick to the back and draw a single, short dash, beginning a new year. The thought of them being late, or worse, dead, fills your mind, and you distract yourself by anxiously cleaning the spare bedrooms.

When you grow tired, feet sore and back aching, you take the book and sneak back into Taehyung’s room, curling up on his bed. You flip through the pages aimlessly, wondering if you should start reading it again, when you remember the twist at the end.

Passepartout and Fogg get delayed, and fear they’ve lost their bet of returning in 80 days. They return in 81 days, ready to accept defeat, when they realise that due to their lap around the world, they had actually gained a day in timezone changes. They’d passed their bet after all, with only 80 days in London passing.

You rack your brain trying to work out if that would’ve affected Taehyung and Jungkook going the opposite direction. Did they think it had only been 365 days? You struggle to find an answer, but your brain feels slow from lack of real use in the past year.

You grab a pillow and hug it against your chest, picturing Taehyung and Jungkook as the main characters. Perhaps Taehyung was like the stern Fogg, filled with the societal standards of the 1800s, while Jungkook, the loyal Passepartout, arranged the travel and took care of his master.

If Taehyung has blurred slightly in your mind over time, Jungkook is a silhouette, and you frown a little at how little detail your mind can supply. He had a kind smile, and beautiful eyes, you recall. Outside of that, all you have are vague reconstructed snippets.

Not wanting to wallow any more in your own misery than you are, you put the book and the pillow down and open the doors to the balcony, leaning on the rail and enjoying the fresh ocean air.

One thing that never fails to lift your spirits, even minutely, is the salty breeze and the open paradise in front of you.

A long, white path cuts through beautiful flowers, now growing more wildly than before. They merge into sand dunes on either side of a wide dock.

The beach behind the villa is nicer, has the shelter from the hilly range and a few coves where starfish and hermit crabs linger, but you always secretly preferred this one.

It’s all sand, pillowed and pale golden. It curves around like a fortune cookie, tucking the dock in securely.

While the back beach’s waters are shallow and reefy, the banks here dip off dramatically into deep blue waters. You spent many summer days with Taehyung, egging him to jump off the docks into the water, but he always insisted on gracefully wading in, shorts rolled up.

The ocean is calm now, a lazy lull that splices the moonlight into a million different shards along the surface.

It’s only just passed dusk, and the moon is barely above the horizon line.

Now that spring has well and truly come, it’s still light enough to see by, and you enjoy the cooler air as you watch the moon lift bit by bit above the seas.

A dark speck blots out the bottom portion of it.

You squint, rub your eyes, but it doesn’t go away.

The minutes pass in silence, and you swear that as the moon rises, so does this spot grow in size.

A light sprinkling of goosebumps covers your bare arms, but you don’t dare move from the balcony.

It takes a while, enough for the stars to come out in full and light up the beach more, but eventually the dark shape comes close enough that you can make out the silhouette of a large fishing ship headed directly your way.

Your heart races. Your feet won’t move, rooted to the spot. You wait, and you wait, and it feels like you’re reliving your 365 days right then and there, but you wait long enough to see three figures standing at the prow of what you recognise to be Jin’s ship, and the 365 days are but a blink, nothing but a heartbeat.

They’re home.

#taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #bts x reader #taehyung x reader #taekook

305 notes · View notes

blessedarethebinarybreakers · 3 years

Photo

id: the start of a twitter thread by Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg @TheRaDR from Sept 15 2021 reading,

Today's a good day to talk about prayer, no? I know it's a thing that feels hard and uncomfortable to lots of folks, so let's spend some time unpacking some of what it can be. 1/x thread.

For starters, let me make this clear: I don't believe in vending machine theology. Like, there is no version of any understanding of the divine that I have that involves me praying for a pony and getting a pony. Or a fast car or that gig that I want or whatever. Courage, patience, compassion? That's different, we'll get there. "But rabbi, the traditional Jewish liturgy includes prayers for livelihood, for healing, for all sorts of things! We ask for stuff!" Yes, and the traditional Jewish liturgy is written in the first person plural. Not I. We. So again, patience, we'll get there. / end id]

The thread continues,

But first, I want to say a few things about the act of prayer. The Book of Samuel talks about a woman named Hannah who's stuck in a dark place; she finally breaks, starts crying, and then, the book tells us, she "increased her prayers before God…. Hannah spoke on her heart." She's considered the paragon of prayer in Judaism; she didn't recite formal liturgy. She teaches us, though, that prayer is about speaking on your heart. It's a means to express something of our deepest selves, and not only naming it, but offering it up to the great beyond.

Whether or not you think of yourself as someone who believes in whatever might be called God, I'd like to suggest that there is power to this. I don't think you need to know to whom or what you're praying in order to pray.

Sometimes, you can just... pray. And see how it feels. If meditation can get us centered in the present moment, prayer can engage that presence, draw from or offer it up, or do both at the same time. Meditation is the work of the breath, of the stillness of the mind.

Prayer is, as the Jewish tradition puts it, "work of the heart." This work of the heart often emerges from the hardest spaces. Sometimes it comes out of that moment when you're at the edge of your ability to cope, or grief, despair, fear, anger, disassociated numbness, or overwhelm. Or from a bunch of those things, all at once.

Perhaps our prayers are open expressions of resentment, desperation, hope, gratitude, wonder, frustration, questions, or many of the other things a person might feel when we're up to the ears in it. Perhaps something else. I don't know.

I can tell you that if you spend all of Yom Kippur yelling at God until you get to the place where the tears are, or yelling until you find a new truth that you hadn’t uncovered, that will be a day well spent.

Yes, you can yell at God, you can be angry at God, you can yell at I-don't-know-if-there's-God-or-what-but-I'm-gonna-yell. The God in which I believe can take it.

Jews, anyway, have a long, proud tradition of yelling at God. It's... kind of how we roll.

But real prayer doesn’t push aside hard feelings. Nor will it magically fix everything. It can help us to name what's happening, & to pour it out to the great transcendent beyond — to turn your isolated feeling into something that connects you, that binds you to something bigger.

It is this outward offering that turns "feeling feelings" into prayer: we don't just experience them, we offer them up, to someone, something. We say, “here, can you hold on to at least a tiny piece of this anger, frustration and despair for just a second?” We connect our heart to the great infinite everythingness, the gushing, pulsing stream of life within and around us. We reach out.

It's about tuning into that which interlinks us all, that which is present within and between us. Try lifting up the things in the deepest places of your heart and try to release them like you're letting the wind take a balloon. You don't have to even know whether anyone's taking them or what, just try to pull the words up and out.

So then, to get back to the words in the prayerbook. First of all, permission:

If you're in services and what's happening with the prayerbook and where you are with things isn't where your head is at, let me be hopefully not the first person to give you permission to just be where you are, tune out of the service and tune in to your heart, tune in to whatever's happening there, do that. If you do some real work there, you've done good.

The point is not to recite every word of the Yom Kippur liturgy while your heart cries for attention. No. And as for crying in services? Feel free to ask anyone from any of the shuls I've attended regularly since the late 90's (aka when I got Jewy) if I have ever been seen sobbing hysterically during prayer services. Uh. Yes, hi, here is your permission slip to cry if you need to.

Sometimes in the process of prayer you move stuff around and find true things and clear out some things and the true things come out through tears. That's OK. Sometimes life is so full and the only time you have time to be a certain kind of present is during prayer and so it turns out that's when you cry. That's OK.

So, then, back to the words in the prayerbook. Whether you're more comfortable in the Hebrew (and occasionally Aramaic) or English, or a bit of both —permission slip to pray from whichever side works best for you — the prayerbook is meant to be your guide through a process. The liturgy has been crafted very intentionally. It's the trail for your hike. It's meant to take you on a series of risings & fallings, openings & closings, peaks & valleys. The blessings before & after the S'hma, before & after the Amidah, where (on YK) the viduis are, etc. We talk about keva (fixed form) and kavvanah (intention) as the heart of Jewish prayer. Taking the intention, the heart stuff I've been talking about and binding it to the words in the prayerbook, and offering it up. It takes practice, sure, but if you're in services a bunch tonight and tomorrow, why not practice?

Find some of the words that catch you in particular and really...pray them? See what it feels like to find some words that you wouldn't think to just write yourself and pray those?

And then we get around to the genius of Jewish prayer. The ways it shapes you, like water gently shaping a rock. The number of times I have, in prayer, had to find the ways and meanings around words I wouldn't have, in my tiny, finite, ego-driven self, thought to write. The ways that we — not I, we — has worked itself into me. It's not about my own love or sorrow. My own fate or concern. The hike has taken me to vistas more profound and beautiful than I possibly could have imagined on my own.

And it's forced me to tap into pain and suffering greater than I wanted to, because that's part of the work, too That's OK. We. Us. In any case, I want to bless you with the opportunity to do some of the work of the heart — tonight, tomorrow, and any time after that.

In services, or just walking down the street, when you're with a cranky child, at any moment when you need to offer something up. Formal prayer — yes. And spontaneous prayer is valid, too. It was for Hannah, it is for you, too.

Offer something up. PS: some theological Qs can be addressed in this piece, though more Bible-focused. Viz prayer, some Jewish philosophers talk about prayer impacting the person praying, some talk about prayer impacting the divine, some a combination, you don’t have to pick.

#judaism #yom kippur #prayer #prayer tag #danya ruttenberg #other faiths tag #important #twitter #Rabbi Ruttenberg wrote this for Yom Kippur in particular and from her Jewish lens #and those are the primary lenses to read it through BUT it can be read wider too.#like she says -- anyone can do this form of prayer. even those who don't know who or what exactly they're praying to #Christians for instance can learn SO much from this -- the emphasis on communal prayer. on not treating god like a vending machine #long post

428 notes · View notes

madcatdaderpydrawer-blog · 2 years

Text

“Daycare Attendant Moon?”

His head swivels 180 degrees, snapping to face the bear. It’s.. more unnerving then he’d like to admit, if he were to be honest. It’s such an inhuman trait; Everything about him is so disturbing, from the vibrant purple eye down to the shadow casted over his face from the brim of his hat. It almost looks like his eyes are glowing, and maybe they are. It’s difficult, but Freddy manages to smile at him.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m in need of your assistance.”

No reply other than a dull hum of acknowledgement, but it’s enough confirmation that he’s listening for the singer to continue.

“It appears that the systems in parts and services haven’t been fully deactivated, and I do not have the security clearance to access such machines. Would you mind... assisting me?”

Moon narrows his eyes, scanning him up and down skeptically; As if searching for a sign of.. something. His expression was unreadable, Freddy could only assume that he was trying to tell if he was lying or not. He tried to keep a neutral expression, growing more nervous the longer he stays silent. It feels like ages before Moon finally looks away, and the bear lets out a mechanical breath he hadn’t know he was holding.

He doesn’t trust the bear by any means, but his brother had asked him to be more considerate of his supposed “friend” and he couldn’t deny such a simple request, could he? Besides, why would Freddy lie about something like that? It would serve no purpose in protecting the child, and that appears to be the bears only goal in this whole thing.

Freddys eyes dart back to the daytime counterpart, where they linger for a moment. Sun is caught up in conversation, swinging Gregory around wildly in his arms. His heart almost leaps out of his chest at the sight. He really doesn’t want Gregory to get hurt, but the only way for the plan to work is if the two brothers are separated... He’ll have to trust that Monty will keep him safe.

Seeing his brother happy seems to put him at ease. While he doesn’t want to be away from Sun, he can’t bring himself to interrupt him when he’s having so much fun. It’s been so long since he got the chance to play with a kid... and besides, he doesn’t like the dark. It’s best if he avoids parts and services anyways. His gaze lands back on Freddy as he finally replies.

“Very well then.” His body contorts to face Freddy fully, and he makes a flippant wave indicating for him to lead the way.

Said bear sighs internally, “Thank you, Moon.”

Monty eyes the two carefully as Freddy leads Moon away from the group, though it’s barely visible behind his sunglasses. His departure goes unnoticed by Sun, as he had hoped. Everything is going as they had hoped so far.

Freddy hurries to the stage lift, acutely aware of the sharp clicking that stalks behind him. Moon is unaware of the plan, thankfully; He had worried that his poor lying skills would tip him off, but he didn’t catch on.

Any attempts at small talk dies in his throat when his gaze lands back on the jester; He doesn’t look like he’s in the mood to talk, much less to Freddy, so he doesn’t bother saying a word. He just activates the lift, lowering them into parts and services.

The short ride feels as if it takes years; He isn’t used to that, Gregory is never this quiet.

As the lift comes to a shuddering stop, Freddy steps off the platform followed shortly by the daycare attendant. He gestures towards the glass cylinder in the center of the room, “It was left on by the maintainence crew.”

Moon hums, slowly approaching the control panel, “I see... You do not know how to operate this?”

“No, I do not. I’ve never used it before.”

He nods again and Moon starts tapping away, typing in swift fluid movements. Freddy stands back for a moment, waiting to ensure that Moon is fully engrossed in looking through the code. Once he’s sure that the jester is thoroughly distracted, he balls up a fist.

He can’t hesitate. If he hesitates too long, then he’ll lose the chance. This plan is for Gregory’s safety, and for the attendants safety too.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Freddy slams his fist into the back of the jesters head. The reaction is instantaneous; Moon drops to the floor like a sack of bricks. The amount of ease he did the task with is almost unnerving.

“I’m so sorry...”

It was the last thing Moon heard before his systems shut off entirely and he was left motionless on the floor.

He pauses, ears flicking as he waits for a moment in tense silence to see if Sun had noticed his brother go offline. If he had, then the plan was a bust, and the strenuous alliance they had formed with the brothers would be shattered.

When the yellow bot doesn’t immediately storm towards him screaming, he quickly picks up Moon, pulling out the box he had stashed in the cylinder earlier. A small tightly packed box labeled “Daycare Attendant 2-N maintenance”. It contained the restraints specially made for when Moon was to be contained in the cylinder.

He lays the slender animatronic down on the chair and opens the box; The wave of shock that goes through him when he makes contact with the metal doesn’t go unnoticed. So, they are those kind of restraints. He can already feel the guilt weighing on his heart; But he pushes through that, clipping on the restraints.

Now, all he can do is wait and hope that Monty handles his portion of the plan well...

#fnaf security breach au #crazy twins au #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #sunrise #sundrop #moondrop #daycare attendant #fnaf glamrock freddy #fnaf gregory #the amount of guilt dadbear is dealing with #yes he just punched Moon out #fnaf monty

123 notes · View notes

221bshrlocked · 3 years

Text

taste you on my tongue

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Reader

Words: 9441 (I can’t fucking write anything shorter I’m sorry)

Warnings: Angst and Smut. Helmet is on and then it’s off. Oral (male receiving). Soft then rough sex. Breeding kink. Touch kink. Hand kink? Dirty/Sweet Talk. Mando feels primal when he sees you wearing his shirt and flirting with someone that isn’t him.

Summary: The Revenant was a fairly spacious gunship compared to others and you prided yourself in keeping it running for this long, especially after you were told it would soon lose its “life force.” But when a certain Mandalorian and his foundling join your ship following a disastrous mission, you find that the Revenant isn’t as big as you initially thought. In fact, it is much less private than you wish to admit and you find yourself escaping to a cantina one night to avoid the bounty hunter who isn’t aware of the effect he has on you. The problem is, the Mandalorian doesn’t like to share anything with anyone, and that rule applies to you. Unfortunately (or perhaps luckily) for you, you learn about this rule the hard way.

A/N: I hope yall like these because I’m currently spiraling down a Din Djarin hole and I’m not remotely apologetic. Let me know how it is in the comments and how I can make the smut better or the characterization better. Please, I can’t improve unless yall tell me what I’m doing wrong. Also, I promise to write more smut than angst next time. Enjoy :) And @purple-mango sorry it wasn’t as rough as you probably hoped, I was feeling soft Din but mark my words, the next one will be rough.

The obnoxious laughter coming from one of the corners of the cantina made you shake your head as the tavern-keeper approached you and motioned towards your glass. He smiled when you enthusiastically nodded and held out the finished drink, silently asking him to pour some more of the Tevraki whiskey because there was nothing you wanted more than to forget the past few months.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There was something, or rather someone, that you wanted more than your need to set aside what’s been going on since that shitshow of a showdown on Tatooine. Coincidentally, or perhaps ironically, that someone had to do with what happened on the desert planet. You smiled at the man in front of you who knew better than to argue about how many drinks you’ve downed thus far.

As the thoughts slithered back to the source of your frustration, you couldn’t help but let your eyes take in your surroundings, shamelessly hoping to find someone who could fill that deep-seated need seeping through your chest and into your heart. No one would compare to him of course, and you knew that very well. But you couldn’t stand another hour on that ship without scratching that itch that’s been bothering you ever since he joined your ship with that annoyingly cute green goblin. You took a sip and returned your attention to the man wiping down the counter in front of you, already thinking of just skipping all the pleasantries and going back to his place.

“If you point him out to me, I can pay him a visit later and roughen him up a bit.” He leaned over and pointed behind you, pouring himself a shot of some weird blue drink before moving in closer to you again.

“Sorry?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, not understanding what he was referring to or if you had even begun a conversation with him.

“The sleemo that rejected you sweetheart. Why else would you be drowning in my best stuff?” He winked at you and you barely managed to not visibly gag at the ways his eyes raked over your form. Did he think this was the way to flirt?

“Maybe I just love drinking liquid fire, sweetheart. Have you thought of that?” You hoped you weren’t being too sarcastic with him because if there was the slightest chance of getting laid tonight, then you were going to do everything in your power to take it and run considering how there was no chance of you asking your now-permanent “roommate” for those kinds of services.

“Maybe. Either way, I’d love to help you forget about that sucker.” You took a deep breath and willed yourself to not punch him in the eye because the thought of being able to forget about the beskar-clad bounty hunter, even for a few hours only, sounded incredibly pleasant.

“Oh aren’t you sweet? So selfless and confident too.” You forced a smile before downing the rest of the whiskey and tapping on the glass again. If you were going to get fucked by someone like him, you needed at least three more drinks or else you wouldn’t be able to imagine the Mandalorian in his place. You chuckled at the depressing thought because here you were trying to forget about the man himself and yet went out of your way to make sure you were sort of able to pretend he was the one showing you the stars.

“Believe me darling, my intentions are strictly...honorable.” He poured you another drink and took a shot with you, his eyes widening in shock when you didn’t bother to wait another second before downing the whole glass in one go.

“Damn baby, he hurt you that bad?” You raised an eyebrow at his inquiry and didn’t know why the question bothered you so much. As much as you hated to admit it, the answer was a hard yes.

“Hah, hurt doesn’t even begin to cover it. And you know what the worst part is? He doesn’t even know he’s doing it.” You didn’t bother to ask him for another drink, jumping on top of the counter before leaning down and grabbing the whiskey bottle from the shelf right in front of his knees.

“You mean he’s still here?” He didn’t question your behavior, letting you take a long sip from the bottle before smiling down at your dazed expression.

“Here. There. Everywhere. He’s fucking everywhere all the damn time. I...he’s- maker...I can’t get him out of my kriffing mind. And the funny thing is, he probably doesn’t waste a second of thought on me. I’m just...someone with a fucking ride that can get him from one planet to the next.” You traced random patterns on the cold tile of the counter and didn’t realize that someone had occupied the seat just opposite of you and trying his hardest to ignore the way the patrons across the room continued to stare at you like you were a piece of meat.

“Darling, he isn’t worth your time. You need someone that...appreciates you. Tells you how good you’ve been.” You knew the man in front of you was just saying those lovely things to get in your pants but you couldn’t help the next few words from stopping even if you tried.

“Yes...gods, yes. Yes I do. But I wanted him to appreciate me. I wanted him to tell me how good I’ve been. I can’t blame him for not bothering to thank me though because it’s hard for him to hold a conversation longer than five minutes. I get that, he’s not used to it, he hasn’t needed to for so long. But it wouldn't hurt to acknowledge me every once in a while you know. I mean, do you know anyone else who’d willingly put their entire life on hold just to help some random introvert and his child find their way through this kriffing shithole of a system?” You knew you shouldn’t be saying any of those things out loud, let alone to a complete stranger. But he struck a nerve and you couldn’t take not another minute of not telling anyone how you truly felt. You needed to get some things off your chest and you sure as hell weren’t about to complain to the man waiting for you back on the ship.

“And- and do you know anyone that would readily give up their most valuable position in this world to a stranger they just met? I don’t.” You violently shook your head at him and felt your eyes fill with tears when you saw the way the man was looking at you. His eyes shot down to the bottle in your hand and you unceremoniously raised it to your lips before taking a long swig of the burning liquid, hoping by some miracle that this was enough to make you forget all about his stupid strut and his annoyingly low and gruff voice and the way he was so effortlessly kind to the kid.

“That ship. It’s- oh gah, it’s been with me through the worst fucking jobs. I fought for it, almost sold my kriffing bo-...almost sold something priceless to ensure it isn’t taken from me again. And it only takes some damn beskar-wearing, quiet, fucking who-knows-what-species nerfherder to save me once for me to voluntarily hand it over to him. Like it wasn’t a piece of me...like it wasn’t my home.” You were over sharing at this point and you noticed the way the man was beginning to lose interest in you so you made sure to grab his shirt and pull him closer to you before grabbing his forearm and digging your nails into it to keep his attention.

“Have you heard of the Revenant? You must have heard of the Revenant. There is no way you haven’t-”

“Yes, yes. I’ve heard of it.” He was exasperated but continued to attend to you, shamelessly letting his eyes follow a drop of whiskey roll down your shirt in between the valley of your breasts. You fixed your posture, pushing your tits together and giving him an eyeful of skin before ranting to him again.

“That’s my baby. My pride and joy. I always made sure everyone at the dock knew who it belonged to. Know why?” You grabbed his hand and pulled on it to make sure he was listening to you, laughing when he tiredly leaned down and forced himself to look away from your sweaty chest to your eyes.

“Enlighten me sweetheart.”

“Because it’s one of the biggest gunships out there. So much space that I don’t actually use. It’s a fucking beauty...but you know what? It’s all a lie. A sad, unfortunate lie. Because it took me spending the better half of the year with that kid and his tincan of a guardian to realize just how small it is. It’s like he put his mark on every corner of my home on purpose...just to drive me insane. Every time I sit somewhere where I’m sure he wouldn’t bother to come to, I’d still smell that- that...that fucking scent of his that I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what it is.” You had thankfully placed the whiskey bottle away from you and didn’t try to fight the tavern-keeper when he took it and put it back on the shelf, instantly returning to you to make sure you weren’t about to break anything.

“I even gave him my room. My room! Because ‘no one can see my face’ so he needs some privacy away from me but then there’s the whole ‘the child stays with me all the time’ and that womp rat can sleep in the little cot in my room with him while also giving him some privacy. Which leaves me, you guessed it, in the shitty lower deck where there is no door, not even a curtain, to give me some semblance of solitude.” You didn’t realize how harshly you were breathing until you stopped speaking and noticed the way the stranger continued to look at you.

“It has been a literal hell not being able to get myself off because he can walk in on me at any given moment. Picture that, not getting off for almost a year while being forced to remain in the same vicinity as him.” You didn’t care when you saw the man almost choke on his drink at your bold admission and looked around to make sure no one heard you. “Ughh, you’ve been such a good boy listening to me whining all night long and I think you deserve a treat.” You knew you had him as soon as he shivered at the way your fingers moved beneath his shirt and scratched his neck. “You look like the kind of guy that could fuck me within an inch of my life. Right?”

“Ah huh. Y-yeah.” He licked his lips before setting down the towel in his hands and inching closer towards you. And you silently swore at how absolutely pathetic he was because not a minute ago, he was trying to find a way out of this conversation and here he was thinking with his probably-disappointing dick.

“Good. And I promise to make it worth your while if you manage to make me forget his name.” You leaned across the counter and were about to kiss him when you saw something move across your peripheral vision, something that looked oddly familiar to your completely hazed mind.

“And what’s his name, baby? So I make sure you can’t rememb-” Before he could finish whatever he was about to say, you felt a large hand wrap around your upper arm and pull you back from the bartender and off of the stool. You almost tripped as you struggled to stand and huffed in anger before raising your voice to the distinguished individual who thought this was the time to fuck with you.

“Hey what are y-” You were about to take a swing at whoever it was currently bruising your arm when you followed the glint of the familiar metal and were met with your reflection staring right back at you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you blinked in confusion a few times at the visor currently tilted in an almost judgemental manner at you before attempting to wipe your hair with your other hand.

The Mandalorian slowly changed his focus to the man behind the bar and threw a few credits at him, hands immediately lowering to the blaster in his side holster when he saw where the tavern-keeper’s eyes moved towards. The stranger could only hold up his hand in defeat before walking towards the other side of the bar to lick his invisible wounds. The Mandalorian’s helmet turned to the rest of the cantina, daring anyone to approach the two of you before you left. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to follow the two of you as you returned to the Revenant. He could feel his patience withering away with every passing moment you decided to share what’s on your mind with the rest of the universe but him.

“Let me go.” You whispered to him, eyes maintained to the ground and cringing when you felt his hold on your arm tighten at the request. Before you could ask him again, Mando was turning around and walking out of the busy cantina, pulling you along with him aggressively and not leaving any room for negotiation. You winced as he pulled you like a child through the streets, avoiding the concerned and intrigued looks you were receiving. He was much taller than you and you laughed when you realized it must have been a sight to see some random woman getting dragged along by an angry bounty hunter. Mando couldn’t help but turn towards you when he heard your giggles break the silence, his annoyance spiking because there was absolutely nothing humorous about this situation.

You noticed the way he was staring at you and decided to quiet down, swallowing the lump in your throat as the cold air hit your sweaty skin and made you shiver.

As you moved closer to the ship, you realized there was a chance he heard what you had to say about him and your ship. Hurt and anxiety rose up your throat and before you could attempt and control the all too familiar feeling, you were tripping over your feet and falling to the ground, instantly vomiting everything you’d managed to eat and drink in the last couple of hours.

The Mandalorian hoped his obviously misplaced outrage wasn’t what led you to such a violent reaction, and he kneeled down immediately to hold your hair away from your face. When he saw tears falling down your cheeks and how hard you were breathing beneath him, something snapped in his chest and he knew he was definitely the reason behind this severe response.

“Don’t- oh gah….kriffing look at me.” You spat in between words and turned away from him, holding onto your stomach and to the grass beneath you as you continued to empty your stomach in the middle of the forest. At least you weren’t in the city anymore.

“We’re close to the ship,” he didn’t know what else to say and chose to state the obvious instead, afraid of using a harsher tone with you. Actually, he did know what to say, he just didn’t trust himself to speak the words out loud yet.

“Wopty fucking doo for-” once again, you opened your mouth and dry heaved until you were sure there wasn’t a single drop of whiskey in your system, “you and your stupid kriffing-”

“Please Ad'ika, let me-” You visibly shook at the familiar endearment you’ve heard him whisper to the child so often when he thought you weren’t around. It hurt to know he was throwing it around as if he wasn’t twisting the knife inside your heart with every breath he took near you.

“Let m-me go, p-please.” Mando’s sudden intake of breath was as loud as the silence engulfing the two of you and you swallowed your pride before looking into his visor, well aware of how awful you must have looked without the reflection staring back at you. He, on the other hand, grasped in that moment just how deep your words in the cantina were and instead of listening to you and allowing you a moment alone, he took a deep breath before softly pushing back your hair and wrapping one arm around your waist. You didn’t have any time to question him as the other went beneath your thighs and before you knew it, you were holding onto his cowl for dear life as he quietly walked up the ramp of the Revenant with you in his arms.

Mando pushed in the code to shut the hatch before making his way through the quiet halls of the ship, reaching hi- your room and going straight to the bed he has occupied in the last few months. As he put you down, he took notice of your body language and knew instantly how self-conscious you must have felt laying on the bed he’s been using since he joined you. The same bed which you sort of commented about not an hour ago. He watched as you forced a smile as soon as you saw the familiar green little womp rat peeking its head right before descending from the safety of his crib and wobbling towards you.

You tried to leave the bed but Mando was ahead of you, gently pushing your shoulder until you realized there was no room for arguing with him. Leaning down, he took the kid and put him back in the crib before telling him he couldn’t cuddle with you tonight.

You kept your hands clasped together and refused to look at him, eyes taking in the room no longer familiar to you. He’d moved things around, even put things away that he didn’t need. Your gaze shifted towards him unintentionally as you saw him approach you with a cup of water and wet towel. Pushing the covers towards you, he sat near your thighs as he handed you the water and began to softly wipe at your cheeks and forehead.

You shut your eyes out of fear of giving more away just by staring at his visor and Mando thanked the stars you had because he wasn’t sure he could truly look at you if they were still open. It was a ridiculous thought because he was wearing a mask and you’d never know how much he loved committing all those little muscle twitches to memory. But it felt strangely intimate to return your gaze and he didn’t want to make you any more uncomfortable tonight.

You sighed heavily at his touch and felt pathetic at how starved you were for anything that had to do with him. The man was wearing gloves and wasn’t technically trailing his fingers over your skin but it still felt difficult to contain yourself.

When he was done, he stood up and moved to the refresher, giving you a few moments alone before he imposed on you again. You gulped down the water and placed the cup on the floor near you, looking out of the large window to your right and noticing the dark blue skies moving slowly above you. It took you a few minutes to recognize that what you were feeling was no longer hurt but confusion. He’s acted so differently tonight and you hated to think it was because he was pitying you. It didn’t matter anymore whether he’d heard what you said about him or not. He would have found out sooner or later, and if you were being honest, you felt like he probably had some inclination for a while before but chose to not bring any attention to the topic to save you from embarrassment and rejection.

“Get some rest.” You turned towards him again, not realizing he’d come back into the room and was standing right beside you. Mando tried his hardest not to give away any of his thoughts but you knew what he was thinking as soon as you saw his helmet tilt down just below your neck.

When you followed his line of sight, you felt ill again but for a completely different reason. Of course this would get worse. You weren’t planning on seeing him tonight and you told yourself you’d have plenty of time to change out of his shirt but it seemed that the universe was not making this any easier on you. Mando couldn’t stop staring at the shirt wrapped so loosely around your smooth skin and how large it looked on you. If he was a decent man, he would have turned away when he saw you shifting uncomfortably under his gaze but he couldn’t help taking in the way your body seemed to react to his presence and before he could think about it, he was stepping closer to the bed and reaching out to touch the material of his shirt falling down your shoulder.

“I- I’m sorry about your s-” The words died in your throat when you felt his gloved fingers trailing down your exposed clavicle and you were torn between asking him what he was doing and letting him carry on without interrupting his curiosity. Mando barely held himself back from pushing you down into the covers and taking what he now knew was his but he noticed the sudden goosebumps erupt on your skin and finally managed to meet your eyes through the visor. The way you were returning his gaze was perhaps too much for him and he flinched away from you, clearing his throat and willing himself to think of anything else but the way you were practically begging him to take you. You parted your lips to say something but couldn’t find your voice, afraid you’d push him more than he could take and drive him away all together.

“It’s fine. It’s...I don’t mi- forget about it. You need to rest.” He spoke softly before walking towards the cot nearby and pushing the crib out of the door.

“Wh-where will you sleep?” You sat up and knew he noticed how much you were holding onto every single interaction with him.

“Good night,” he didn’t bother to respond to the question, turning off the lights and shutting the door behind him before making his way to the cockpit. You sat in silence for a few moments before slithering under the covers, sighing in annoyance when you noticed just how much this entire room smelled like him. Pushing your face into the pillow, you took a deep breath and felt shaken to the core when you were hit with Mando’s distinctive scent: sweat, beskar, and that damn featherfern wash he somehow found every time you flew by Nevarro.

As you looked out the metal blinds, you tried to brace yourself for the conversation you were most definitely going to have with the Mandalorian the next day. You knew for a fact that whatever decision he’d take will ultimately hurt you because there were really only two options available, one of which involved him and the child leaving and the other would lead to them staying but making things awkward since there was not a single chance he would reciprocate your feelings.

And the worst part was, you weren’t sure which was more painful.

The Mandalorian sat quietly in the cockpit for a while, making sure you were asleep so as to not wake you up as he moved through the Revenant. Seeing that the kid was fast asleep, he found himself leaving the small space and navigating to the lower deck. He passed by your room and noticed the lights were off, sighing in relief at knowing that you were finally resting comfortably. Arriving at the lower deck, he stood at the entrance of the large room and felt his chest tighten once he took in the state of the space. Turning on the lights, he immediately noticed your makeshift cot in the far right corner, unable to stop himself from moving towards it to inspect it. He shook his head in anger but this time it was aimed at himself and not you or the random tavern keeper who couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

How did he not know of this arrangement? And why did he not ask about your sleeping situation the day he joined your ship? Was he truly that unconcerned with anyone else but the kid or was it because he was reluctant to listen to Peli when she recommended you?

He’d only been in the lower deck for a few moments yet he felt his skin crawl with goosebumps. It was awfully cool down here and it took him another ten seconds to acknowledge that you’ve been living and sleeping here for this long without complaining once to him.

Everything you said about him earlier tonight crashed into him like a wave of guilt and he couldn’t stay in the room any longer, making his way back to the upper deck to try and figure out what he would say to you come tomorrow. As he slowly moved through the dark hallways of the Revenant, he heard a faint voice coming from the upper deck, muscles tensing instantly when he walked past your room and noticed you weren’t on the bed.

Not wanting to disturb you, he waited right outside the cockpit and listened to you humming to the child. He must have woken up and found his way back to you. As he crossed his arms and stood behind the door, he couldn’t help but notice how soft your voice was as you continued to sing a lullaby to the little womp rat.

How could he have not noticed…

“There you go, you little green goblin. If only I could sleep as quickly as you.” You whispered to him before tucking him into the crib while continuing to rub his abnormally large ears. “Your dad is really funny...thinking I’d be able to sleep in that room with his scent all over it.”

Maker, how were you so forthright with everyone but him? It hurt to know that he wasn’t someone you could whisper your little secrets to. Then again, it made sense since all of your secrets seemed to involve him.

“I pray he doesn’t tell me he has to leave now that he knows I...ughh, for both of our sakes little one.” Mando noticed the way you seemed incapable of finishing your sentences whenever you spoke about him and a deep part of him wished you would, if only to hear the adoration in your words. Rarely anyone spoke of him so softly and he had a feeling he’d only ever accept such words from you. It was quiet for a few minutes before he heard you whisper to the kid again.

“It just hurts to know that he’ll never see me as...as a-” He wasn’t sure if it was the heartbreaking tone of your voice or if it was the way you were reluctant to say your heart’s desire out loud but Mando couldn’t stand another second of you thinking you weren’t important to him.

“As a what?” His voice came out harsher through the vocoder and he winced at himself when he vaguely heard you jumping from the chair. A soft hiss came from the cockpit and he took a deep breath when he realized you’d just shut the crib and moved to leave the room. As you stepped out, Mando forced his eyes to remain on your face, refusing to look at your exposed legs or the way his shirt seemed to end right beneath your upper thighs.

Softly shutting the door, you walked to the opposite side of the room and knew the Mandalorian must have noticed your need to put as much space between the two of you as possible.

“We need to stop running into each other like this,” you laughed awkwardly and anxiously ringed your fingers, glancing at his visor before turning away and looking everywhere else but him. Okay, so humor wasn’t going to get you out of this situation.

“How’s your head?” You could feel how on edge he was and decided to answer with short and straightforward responses just to avoid any more awkwardness.

“M-much clearer.” You stood in silence until you heard the Mandalorian pushing off of the opposite wall and heading towards you. You didn’t have anywhere to go, eyes snapping to the door right behind him and knowing there was no way you could try to walk around him.

He stopped a couple of feet away from you and you ceased to breathe when you noticed how awfully close he was to you.

“Answer my question.” His voice was dangerously low and you found it difficult to try and think of anything to say when he was giving you no room to breathe.

“I- I did?” Your voice was far from confident and you watched as he gently took off both of his gloves before shoving them into his pockets. Even though he willingly removed them in front of you, you didn’t allow yourself to look at his skin, afraid you’d somehow offend him and his Creed. But then you saw his hand move towards your face, and gasped when you felt his fingers tilting your chin so you were looking into his visor. There was not an inclination of an emotion available to you but you forced yourself to keep your eyes open nonetheless.

“How do you want me to see you Mesh'la?” Mando whispered down to you and you swore his voice was hoarse as he spoke to you but you didn’t allow this moment to get to your head. It would hurt more than anything if…

“It d-doesn’t matter.” You blinked away the tears, wanting to wipe your face before anymore were shed but not finding it in yourself to move away from him. But then you felt his thumb softly rubbing at your wet skin, making you almost lose your composure as soon as he stepped closer in your space until your back hit the wall.

“I’m sorry Cyar'ika,” his chest was inches from your face, cornering you beneath his other arm before leaning down and resting his forehead against yours. You couldn’t breath, not when he was suddenly filling all of your senses as if it was the most natural thing to do. He felt your tears roll around his thumb and couldn’t bear the thought of you crying because of him.

“I’m sorry for making you think you don’t matter...you do, not just to the kid but- but to me as well.” Your knees gave out on you as soon as you heard Mando’s confession, barely managing to grab onto his forearms right before buckling against him. The Mandalorian wasn’t sure if that was the kind of reaction he was looking for but he immediately wrapped his arms around your back and legs before pulling you against his chest. You nuzzled into his chest and kept a tight hold on him as he walked through the dimly lit hallways back to your room. He could feel goosebumps take over the skin of your thighs where he was touching you and tried to distract himself from pushing you down into the middle of the Revenant and taking you right then and there. You deserved more than that.

As he reached the room and laid you on the bed, he felt your fingers clasp onto him harder and when his eyes trailed over your face, he knew you were silently begging him not to leave.

“I’m not going anywhere Ad'ika.” His reassuring tone tugged at your heart and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you watched him walk to the door and shut it behind him before moving to the refresher. You heard him shuffle around and allowed your mind to calm down, knowing very well that Mando wasn’t unkind and wouldn’t lead you on just to leave you. But then he walked out without his beskar armor and you swore you died and joined the stars. His helmet looked odd without his normal clothing and you knew he could probably see you shamelessly ogling him from across the room.

He walked to you and stood to the side, and you realized he was probably nervous. You pushed yourself against the wall and threw back the covers, hoping he’d understand what you wanted of him.

“Can I-”

“Please.” You cut him off before he could finish his question and he took a deep breath before laying on the bed and moving as close to you as possible. Before he could throw the covers over the two of you, you were already laying your head on his chest and wrapping an arm around him, fingers fisting into the soft material of his shirt unintentionally as you felt him relax beneath you.

You weren’t sure how long it’s been but you felt his heart rate finally come back to normal. Hoping you weren’t being too forward with him, you took his hand into yours and brought it to your lips, softly kissing his knuckles before turning his palm over to lay a kiss on his wrist. Mando was losing every ounce of control left in his body and his arm tightened around your back as soon as he felt the tip of your tongue against his hand.

“Pfassk,” you flinched at the rough expletive and raised your head to look at him, finding his visor already tilted down towards you. “I- I’m sorry I’ll stop if-”

“No..n-no, don’t stop. It just- you took me by surprise.” His chest was rising and falling more rapidly and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was as affected by this new level of ‘intimacy’ as you were, if not more.

You felt bold at his request, kicking the covers away before sitting up and moving to straddle his thighs. Mando was breathing harshly and mirrored your actions, sitting up against the cool metal of the wall before laying his hands on top of your exposed thighs. He let himself take in the way your skin flushed under his touch and smiled to himself when he continued to inch his smooth hands over your upper thighs until his shirt rid up your legs and revealed the pastel color of your undergarment.

“Cyar'ika…” He sighed when he finally forced himself to meet your eyes and found them dilated until there was barely any color left in them. You wanted to ask him what that word meant but chose to file it for later. Placing your hands on top of his, you smiled down at him before pulling them towards your lips and kissing his palms. Almost instantly, you felt him twitch against you, unable to control himself from bucking his hips against your heated core. You let go of his hands and laid your own on his chest, throwing your head back when you felt his tight grip on your thighs. You could tell he wanted to apologize but gave him no chance to do so, sliding against him until you were sure he was painfully hard beneath you.

“Maker...I- I could almost taste you on my tongue Mando. When you- you left me in here all by myself. I couldn’t sleep, n-not when I could smell you on these covers, not when I could feel you on my skin. I..gods, wanted to kiss you then, and- and I wanted to taste your- you...Please, c-can I? P-please-” You dug your nails into his chest and heard him throw his head back against the wall with every confession you moaned to him. He was never this unhinged and you wished to see him come absolutely undone at your touch.

“A-are you sure?” It pained him to ask but he needed to be sure that you wouldn’t regret this. Regret him.

“Mando, have you not listened to anything I’ve said tonight?” As much as you hated to remind him of the earlier and rather embarrassing events, you wanted him to know just how much he meant to you. You knew he was reluctant to let this relationship move forward and you couldn’t really blame him. This was all new to him. But you also didn’t want to stall, not when the two of you have become so aware of the other’s feelings.

You continued to rub yourself on him, shaking with anticipation when you heard him moan through the vocoder as you pressed yourself more confidently down on him.

“Mesh'la I-” Without warning, you took one of his hands and pushed it to your lips, slowly taking two of his fingers into your mouth and swirling your tongue around them until his moans grew louder. And when he pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth, you gripped his wrist tightly and groaned, making sure he could feel how much you wanted him.

“Y-you’re killing me sweet girl.” He wanted to loosen his hold on you, to take things slow, to not let himself get carried away with you, but he didn’t find it in himself to be gentle because he could feel how wet and needy you were above him and there was no way he was going to waste another second not being close to you.

“Please Mando, I want you, n-need to have you. I can make you feel so good. Please, can I?” You reached down and cupped him through his pants, finding him as hard as the beskar of his armor. He thrust up into your hand and swore violently before taking his hand away from your mouth and fisting it into your hair. You smiled when you felt him push you off of him, whispering something in Mando’a when he saw you pulling his pants down his thighs and throwing them behind you.

You bit your lower lip before moving off of the bed and pushing his legs along with you as well. Mando sat up and forced his hands to remain by his side, afraid his enthusiasm would make him get too rough with you and scare you away. When you laid your hands on his knees and pushed them wide open so you could get comfortable between his legs, Mando’s hands tightened around the covers and he hissed when he saw the way you were eyeing his cock. You were staring at him like he was a piece of meat and he wasn’t sure if he loved it or was embarrassed by it.

“Maker,” you whispered before dragging your nails up and down his thighs, watching as his cock twitched against his stomach every time you got a little aggressive with your touches. Looking up into his visor, you slowly leaned down and took the tip of his cock in your mouth, humming around him as you tasted precum leaking into your taste buds. That seemed to do it for him because one of his hands shot to the back of your head and fisted into your hair while the other moved down until it landed on your hand. He intertwined his fingers with yours and watched as you pulled back and licked the underside of his dick before spitting into your hand and wrapping it around him.

“M-mando, the taste of you,” you took as much of him in your mouth as possible while maintaining eye contact with his helmet, squeezing the base of his cock before reaching down and cupping his balls. Mando swore, involuntarily thrusting into your mouth and watching in awe as he saw a dangerous glint in your eyes right before you clasped his hand harder and somehow managed to take him in deeper. It was such a sight, holding affectionately onto your hand as you brought him to pleasure. Letting go of him with a pop, you laid wet kisses down the length of his cock, licking the protruding veins and smiling when you felt his hold tighten on your hair. “Is absolutely addicting.”

You could tell the exact second he lost all semblance of control because one minute you were kneeling at his feet, and the next thing you knew, Mando was pulling you up by your hair and throwing you beneath him on the bed. You wiped your lips with the back of your hand, watching his muscles flex as he removed his shirt expertly over his helmet. The soft starlight coming through the metal blinds of the window shone onto his skin and you trailed your gaze down his chest, finding the golden brown tone of his scarred body absolutely breathtaking.

“Mando, you’re beautiful.” You saw his hands begin to shake at your compliment, and you knew you’d take every chance you get from now on to tell him how much you adored him. You could hear him breathing through the mask and licked your lips when he looked down and saw the way you were playing with the hem of his shirt. Slowly, you began to pull on the soft material, about to take it off when he held onto your wrists. Your smile faltered for a second and hoped you didn’t somehow misunderstand his intentions.

The last thing Mando wished to see was your body giving away to shyness before him. Pushing your thighs open, he didn’t give you a chance to say anything else as he slid his fingers below the thin undergarment, violently ripping it off of you and discarding it onto the floor. You gasped when you felt him hard and heavy against your slit, taking both of his hands and pulling him towards you until he was only a hairbreadth away. He watched closely as you placed one hand around your throat while the other descended to your breast. You could tell Mando was reluctant to move so much an inch and when you pushed yourself against him, eyes daring him to do as he wishes, he found himself completely overtaken with the thought of you belonging to him and him only. You smiled when you felt the grip on your throat tighten, shutting your eyes and arching your back against him as the other cupped and pinched at your nipples through his shirt.

“If you want me to fuck you tonight, Mesh'la, then you’re going to keep my shirt on.” He could feel you shaking in his arms and smiled to himself at the knowledge of how much he affected you.

“Mando, please…” You would have continued begging him if he asked you to, but then he was moving away from you and leaning towards the window. Keeping your hands clasped to your chest, you watched as he shut the blinds until there wasn’t a single light shining into the room. You could barely see your own hands in the dark and wondered why he was shuffling above you. A soft hissing sound had you tensing in an instant and you ceased to breathe when you heard the faint sound of beskar hitting the ground.

“M-mando?” The question was more reluctant than inquisitive and you didn’t have time to react as you felt him lean against you until you were touching every inch of his skin. You blinked a few times in vain, knowing there was no way you would be able to see anything. But then you felt something soft brush against your cheek and as you turned your head towards him, Mando was molding his lips with yours, swallowing your gasps and sucking on your tongue as soon as you melted into him. He pulled away against his own will, but not before pushing your jaw with his nose until your neck was available to him.

“And my name is Din sweet girl, Din Djarin. It better be the only word you scream tonight as I fuck this pretty little cunt. Understood?” You weren’t sure if it was his deep voice that made you speechless or the fact that he not only took off his helmet for you but willingly told you his name as well. You committed it to memory, hoping this wouldn’t be the only time he took off his helmet around you. You’d always wondered what he sounded like without it, not comprehending that it could be so much sweeter than what you’ve dreamed of. And by the gods, his lips. How were they so soft and gentle? Maker, he had a stubble too, not a rough one but just long enough to tickle your neck as he kissed and nipped at your clavicle.

“Answer me Ad'ika.” He bit your shoulder to grab your attention once more, chuckling above you when you nodded frantically against him.

“You’re so soft Cyar'ika, I- I want to kiss every inch of your skin.” As much as you loved making him lose his mind at your touch, you had to admit you enjoyed him much more when he was in control. You smiled when he kissed along your shoulder before pushing down his shirt far enough to expose your breasts. Din bit down on his lower lip to contain himself, but then you were arching your back and pushing yourself into him and he couldn’t hold back. He kissed down your sternum, waiting until you relaxed in his arms before assaulting your nipples. You screamed his name as you felt his teeth tug on your nipple, hands shooting to his hair when you felt him grope and pull on the other.

“Din, oh ma-maker- your mouth is...f-fuck.” You could tell he was smiling as he aggressively licked the hardened bud before sucking on it again. Din pushed his cock against your wet slit, growling when you pulled on his hair and cried his name like a sweet prayer.

“I could smell your cunt sweet girl, so fucking wet and hot and ready for me.” Din pulled back and cornered you between his arms, bucking his hips into you until you were a needy and moaning mess beneath him. “Woke up countless times in this bed...hard and aching at the mere thought of you...d-dreaming of having you in my arms, wanting to sink into you, f-fuck you on every inch of this ship.”

“Din, please...I need you.”

The way you clawed at his back broke him and before he knew what he was doing, he was flipping you on your stomach and raising your hips against him.

“I need to have you Mesh'la.” Din leaned down and swiped your hair to the side, whispering the filthiest things in your ears as he took hold of his cock and rubbed it against your heat.

“I’m yours Din, do what you want. Fuck me, ruin me...cum in me if you wish. Just p-please-”

You made it sound so simple, trusting him. It was an odd feeling to know how easily you were giving yourself to him. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, not after what you said tonight. But something about the way you offered yourself to him, especially with that last request, had him seeing stars.

Leaning down until his chest was sliding against your back, the Mandalorian held you against him with one arm across your front while he slowly slipped into your wet cunt. You sighed in unison, and Din felt a sense of pride fill his chest when you dug your nails into his arm while your legs began to shake beneath him.

“You’re a dream Cyar'ika, the best f-fucking dream I could ever have. And you’re all mine.”

“Y-yes, yours. I’ve always been yours, oh gods Din please, move. M-move.” You were babbling at this point but couldn’t find it in yourself to care, turning your head to the side just to feel him breathe against your cheek. His stubble rubbed deliciously at your heated and sensitive skin, and you would tell him later that you hoped he’d mirror those actions but elsewhere.

“So tight darling, I- you’re everything. The things I- uhhh, the thing I want to do to you.” Din achingly pulled out before snapping into you again, biting down on your shoulder when you clenched violently around him.

“Din, oh Din-” You wished you could tell him how good he felt, how much he filled you, how often you craved having him inside you and how much you were losing it now that he was. But you couldn’t find a single word, not when he was fucking you like you were it for him.

The normally quiet man was groaning and hissing above you, pulling you along with him as he sat up and continued to fuck you relentlessly. You reached back and held his head against your neck, crying in pain and pleasure when he picked up the pace and his hold on your hip tightened. You were sure there would be bruise marks the next day but you couldn’t tell him to slow down or be a little less aggressive, not when you finally had him where you’ve wanted for so long.

“Fuck, fuck….sweet girl, did- did you mean it?” He was asking you something and you didn’t really pay attention to him, focusing on the way he deliciously dragged against your tight walls over and over again. Din knew it wasn’t fair to ask you anything right now but he had to know. Needed to.

He stopped his movement all together, sinking as deep into you as possible and tightening his grip on your throat.

“Pfassk...answer me darling.” Din whispered into your ears and reached down to where you were joined, softly slapping your clit until you twitched and begged him to repeat his words again.

“I said, did you fucking mean it when- kriffing hell, when you said I could...c-cum in you?” He was reluctant to ask but there was no point in denying either of you.

“Yes, gods yes. I told you Din, d-do what you want with me.” You forcibly loosened the fingers around your throat and brought them to your lips, biting the palm of his hand as he resumed thrusting into you.

“Mesh'la...you’re such a sweet girl, letting me b-breed you...taking my cock so well, letting me fill you up. You were made for me darling. This cunt, this sweetest and tightest kriffing pussy was made for my cock.” He pronounced each word with a harsh push of his hips and you smiled when you heard how low his voice suddenly became. The sounds of skin slapping on skin filled the room and you hoped the child wouldn’t wake up from how loud the two of you were being.

“You’re mine darling. Won’t let anyone else touch you...fucking look at you even. Maker I- I almost lost it tonight in the cantina.” There was a hint of self-consciousness in his words and you hoped he didn’t think you could ever replace him.

“D-din..” You wanted to tell him no one else would compare but he didn’t give you a chance.

“Talking about me like I- fuck, like I didn’t care about you, like I don’t picture you coming on my cock every waking moment of my day. And flirting with him in my shirt...my kriffing shirt. I almost lost it when he put his hands on you sweet girl.” You weren’t sure if he had somehow become harder inside you or if it was his words that made you attuned to the feeling of him pushing into your cunt but you turned your head and kissed his cheeks, hoping he’d understand what you were trying to tell him with your touches.

“You’re the only one f-for me.” Din let go of your neck and held onto your hips, no longer caring about how rough he was being with you. Your heavy sighs were the only warning he had right before your tight walls convulsed around his dick and he continued to fuck you through your orgasm, falling on top of you and bucking his hips slowly into your cunt until you begged him to slow down.

“Cyare, ah pfassk, that’s it. Keep squeezing me darling. I’m so close, so close. Ah fuck, you’re mine. Mine, not letting you go. N-never letting you go. Oh maker...ner runi...ner. Ner. Riduur. My sweet girl...riduur.” Din didn’t realize what he’d said until the words were left hanging in the air and he felt a rush of relief wash over him as he finally admitted how he felt about you.

“Din, I lo- ahh gods please.” He silenced your screams with his hand, losing his rhythm as he came in hot spurts of cum inside you. Din bit down onto your shoulder just as you bit on the palm of his hand, continuing to push his seed deep inside you until he felt you a mixture of your juices seeping out of you. Neither of you moved for a few moments, relishing the way you fit so perfectly with each other. You could feel him breathing heavily against your back and smiled with pride when you realized you were the only one that got to see him like this.

Din didn’t want to stop touching you, falling to the side and grabbing your flush to him only to hiss when you unintentionally clenched around his softening cock. You kissed his wrist as he pulled the covers over the two of you, not bothering to move a muscle mostly because you knew he didn’t wish for you to leave him.

He kissed along the bruised ridges of your shoulders, drawing circles on your navel and smiling when you giggled beneath him.

“I wasn’t too rough with you was I?” He asked embarrassingly, not knowing what he’d do if you said yes.

“You were perfect Din...you- you are perfect.” You turned your head far enough in hopes of catching his attention, letting out a deep breath when he leaned over and captured your lips in a chaste kiss. He was so soft and you didn’t know which side of him you enjoyed more but you were sure you wanted to get to know him, all of him. His likes and dislikes.

“Far from it Mesh'la. I...I went to the lower deck and saw where you’ve been sleeping.”

“Oh…”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Din rose on his elbow, seeking your hands in the dark and holding onto your fingers as he raised your hand to his mouth and kissed along your hand.

“I- I didn’t want to make you think you weren’t welcome. Peli told me about the Creed and well, there isn’t any sort of privacy down there really. And the kid would’ve been cold. I know how much he likes to cuddle next to you when he sleeps.”

“But you’ve been-”

“I’ve slept in worse conditions, believe me.” He didn’t say anything else in response but you knew he was very much thinking about it.

“Din, I wouldn’t change a single moment. Not one. Because each one led me here, to this bed, in your arms. I would relive every mission and every cold night and every awkward conversation again if I knew I’d end up here with you. You’re the closest thing I have to a..a-”

“Family.” He broke the silence before lying back down and pulling you as close to him as possible.

“Promise me you won’t get drunk by yourself in a cantina again.” You wished you didn’t laugh out loud at the random request because Din swore behind you before his grip loosened a bit.

“I’m sorry I...I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just, here I am pouring my heart out and the only thing you could follow up with was that.” When he didn’t say anything in return, you grabbed his arm and pulled him back to you. “And yes, I promise not to get drunk in a cantina by myself ever again.”

“Good.”

“But I can’t really make any promises about not flirting with anyone because if it means I get to have you all hot and bothered then-”

“Sweet girl, you’re going to regret ever thinking of that…”

Translations:

Sleemo - This Huttese insult was pronounced slay-mo and translated as "slimeball," a rude insult.

Ad'ika - Little one

Mesh'la - Beautiful

Cyar'ika - Darling/Sweetheart

Pfassk - An adaptable expletive

Cyare - Beloved

Ner - Mine.

Runi - soul; only used poetically

Riduur - partner, spouse, husband/wife

#The Mandalorian fanfiction #The Mandalorian x Reader #The Mandalorian smut #mando x reader #Mando smut #Mando fanfiction #Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin smut #Din Djarin fanfiction #The Mandalorian #Din Djarin #Pedro Pascal #star wars #star wars fanfiction #baby yoda #grogu

1K notes · View notes

commander-writergirl · 2 years

Text

Meeting at Services

Synopsis: Marc visits his father, meaning he has to attend services. He never expected to meet you.

Pair: Marc Spector x Jewish!fem!Reader (Steven and Jake will join later on)

Rating: PG-13 (mainly language)

Warnings: Mention of past child abuse.

Word Count: 816

Notes: If I see any antisemitism on this post, I will block you. I am personally Jewish and I will not allow that hate on stories and characters I work hard on/with.

Marc was good at many things, if it didn’t involve his emotions. Or his upbringing. Which made your relationship harder without even mixing in mental health and Egyptian deities. You who practically spun into his life like a dreidel. It was a complete accident.

Steven had convinced Marc to visit their father and a visit meant a Saturday morning service.

Elias knew better than to say too much to Marc, but he smiled and told March how happy he was to see him again.

Marc followed through the service, trying to keep from squirming too much. As the congregation worked through the final prayer, is when Marc noticed you. He watched you for a few moments, taking in the way you sat and memorizing the pattern on the green scarf covering your hair. It was ivy plants. He could already tell he had never met you before, most of the temple was still the same families Marc had grown up around.

As everyone filed out of the service Marc kept his eyes on you. He hadn’t felt this way since... well it's been a long time. Marc was able to slip away from his father and over to you as Elias began to speak with others.

Marc walked over and tapped your shoulder. When you looked at him, Marc felt his heart stop. He could see just a little curl from under your tichel and the light scattering of freckles across your cheeks.

“Doesn’t the head scarf mean she’s married?” Marc tried ignoring Steven. He just wanted to meet you after all.

“Hi,” Smooth Marc.

“Hello,” You smiled lightly at him and clasped your hands behind your back. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“You’re I’m just visiting my father. I’m Marc Spector.” Marc held his hand out towards you.

Your eyes widened slightly as you shook his hand, “You’re Elias’s son?”

Marc only nodded and as he was about to ask your name, his father came over. “Ah I see you’ve meet Y/N.” Elias smiled and looked at his son. Marc could remember all the early day conversations of him marrying Jewish.

At that thought, he felt Jake tickle at the back of his mind. “Yea,” Marc cleared his throat, “Excuse me.” Marc beelined for the exit, taking his kippah off as he exited the building.

Once outside Marc took a deep breath and began to count calming himself. Marc slowly calmed down and then felt like kicking himself. His mother wasn’t here anymore, and she couldn’t force or scare women away. She wasn’t here to hit him for walking out like that.

“Marc?” Marc turned to see you coming out slipped the tichel off. “Are you okay?”

Marc flexed his fingers out and forced a grin, “I’m fine. Sorry about that it was just-”

“A lot?” you finished for him and smiled. “Yea I prefer doing Friday nights over mornings. Its less crowded.” You stepped up next to him wrapping and unwrapping your scarf from your hand.

“Aren’t you supposed to keep that on?” Marc remembered some traditions, but his mother never wore tichels.

You hummed before looking at your hands, “Oh, no I just.” You huffed a laugh, “It’s more of a compromise, I made with my father. He didn’t want me wearing kippahs, so I wear tichels when I'm in services or if I just need a little more time with God.”

“Interesting compromise. I almost always hated my parents forcing me to wear kippahs, they never seemed to stay on.” Marc said.

“Well, if you squirm like you did today, I can understand why they didn’t stay in place.” Marc raised an eyebrow at you and noticed a slight pink tint to your cheeks.

“You watching me?”

You cleared your throat and shifted from one foot to the other. “If I say yes, would you find that weird?”

Marc couldn’t help but laugh and shook his head, “Not at all honestly, last few minutes I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

You smiled wide at him, showing off a pair of dimples. “Would you like to get coffee or something?”

Marc wanted to say no, he should say no. Between his alters and Khonshu, he was the most dangerous person for you to be around, and yet he found himself saying, “Yeah, I can pick you up later if you want?”

“I would like that,” the smile stayed on your face as you held your hand out for his phone.

--------

And that’s how almost a year later, Marc gets to wake up next to you each morning. You nuzzled into his chest without a worry in the world. And you accepted every piece of him. He gently kissed your forehead and settled back down into his pillow, because for once he didn’t want to get out of bed, he just wanted to lay there holding you until you woke.

#Marc spector x Jewish!Reader #marc spector x reader #marvel fanfiction #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfiction #SJ writes #steven grant x reader #jake lockely x reader

45 notes · View notes

floralseokjin · 4 years

Text

⤑ made-up love song ii.

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher living with your best friend, and have never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire.

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, eventual smut, eventual angst, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, things are heating up! the phrase ‘dilf dick’ gets thrown around way too much, RJ and taehyung cameo, hoseok, yoongi and namjoon are mentioned, as well as jungkook if you squint words; 12,169

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

After Seokjin dropped you off at the station, he and Arin waving you goodbye, it would be two weeks later when you saw him again. Not that you were holding out on it or anything… No way… That would be ludicrous.

The last week of school was always hectic, activities and games top priority now that teaching had come to a standstill. The children were hyper, the teacher’s worn out, but without fail you always looked forward to the summer fate. Head of the committee every year, you and a handful of your fellow teachers organised each game, each stall and each prize. As well as wanting the children to have fun, it was also an opportunity to celebrate their achievements throughout the year with their families. There were an arrange of awards for most subjects, third through to first place for each grade, and this year you’d convinced the principal, Mr. Jung, to include a new creative writing award. It wasn’t technically a subject – you already had the spelling bee for English class, but he’d thought it was a great idea to celebrate the students’ talents in a brand new way.

Of course, there was one child you had in mind when you’d gone to him with the idea – Arin. It was only fair in your eyes, she’d been with you not even three months and hadn’t had a chance like the other kids. The other awards were spoken for but you wanted her to at least get something, just so first grade could end on a good note for her and help her look forward to September.

You were at the entrance of the fate, in casual conversation with Mrs. Jeon as well as greeting the students’ families, when you caught a glimpse of Seokjin. He was hand in hand with Arin who skipped happily beside him. He was wearing a sea green thin sweater, that blew in the light breeze, and black jeans. He was even in sneakers. Way more unbelievable than the slippers. He looked effortlessly good, and you thought you preferred him like this, casually dressed. The suits were great yes, but he looked far more attainable like this. Not that you wanted to attain him.

Damn it.

You tried your best to ignore the strange heat that had seemed to settle in your chest at the sight of him, the faintest flurry of what could only be described as butterflies aggravating your stomach. What the hell? What was wrong with you?

“Hello, Miss.” Arin grinned, giving you a small wave, and you shook yourself out of it.

“Hi, Arin,” you waved back, of course catching Seokjin’s eyes in the process.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” he greeted, the hint of a smirk across his mouth. Teasing, again. Two could play at that game.

“Mr. Kim,” you replied, unable to keep a straight face – especially when you heard him laugh as he passed by you.

You watched him walk off, secretly pleased now that you knew he was here. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, wouldn’t dare tell anyone, but you’d been hoping he’d be free to attend the fate. To see Arin receive her reward, of course – nothing else. But, okay, maybe you had spent an embarrassingly long time choosing which dress to wear last night. Not that you wanted to impress him, more like… stand out.

“Who is he?” Mrs. Jeon whispered animatedly – hopefully out of earshot and once again knocking some sense back into you.

You tried to sound casual, like you weren’t aware of Seokjin’s jaw-dropping good looks – or more so, that they didn’t affect you whatsoever. “A student’s father.”

She made a noise of disbelief. “He is just pure… sex on legs.”

“Eunbi!” You exclaimed, taken by such surprise you used her first name. She burst out laughing, something you couldn’t ignore and ended up in a fit of giggles yourself.

“Behave.” You warned, trying to compose yourself. “You’re a married woman.” You’d attended her wedding last summer, bringing along Soojung as your plus one.

“Looking is still allowed,” she replied, making you both explode into laughter once again.

You were giddy. Really, what was up with you?

The afternoon was a success, the children and their families enjoying immensely, as well as the teachers. It was your job to announce the creative writing reward and it was so heart-warming to see how happy it made Arin to come first place. She held her little trophy and movie theatre vouchers proudly for the camera, Seokjin looking just as over the moon as her. Mr. Jung convinced him to join for a few snaps and you looked on with a polite smile. Other than earlier and a thank you as you passed the prize to Arin, those had been your only interactions with Seokjin for the day and now the fate was drawing to a close. You wouldn’t say you were disappointed, because that would be preposterous, but if those were going to be your only exchanges then it made the times he’d fleeted into your mind these past couple of weeks highly embarrassing…

It wasn’t as if you wanted to think about him, he just kept popping up. First you blamed Soojung, who wouldn’t shut up about Mr. Dilf for a few days after the exchange at his house (mansion), but soon the topic bored her, no new developments to keep her hooked. You on the other hand found yourself imagining instances where you’d bump into one another again. You know, happenstances… Like if he had the time to drop Arin off at school, although you doubted he’d end up in the staff parking lot again… You’d had a good giggle to yourself remembering his face when he’d realised.

Other incidents were less realistic, like maybe he’d drop off a thank you present the students liked to gift to say goodbye, or maybe you’d bump into him at the grocery store, the park – highly improbable, but you found yourself thinking all these things when you were procrastinating or trying to get to sleep.

Even now as you tried to win a prize at the Ring Toss stall – don’t ask how much money you’d already spent – (obviously using your free time wisely before you were needed again), you found yourself disappointed that things hadn’t worked out quite like you’d imagined today. You were being stupid. The guy was supposed to annoy the heck out of you, yet here you were unable to stop thinking about him. It had been a long time since a man had gotten you this distracted. A really long time…

“Can I help?”

You jumped at the sound of Seokjin’s voice, granted you were in deep concentration, about to launch the hoop, but you felt like you’d been caught doing something wrong. As if he knew you’d been thinking about him, caught you in the act. You whipped your head up, forcing yourself to relax and smile.

“I’ve been watching you try to win for the past ten minutes.” He chuckled. Great. How embarrassing. He stepped closer. “What do you have your eyes so set on?”

Oh, god. Even more embarrassing. You had a split second to make a decision. Be truthful or lie and choose something else. You know what, who cared? You were thirty and still loved stuffed animals. It wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“The alpaca.” You pointed to the white fluffy animal sat on the top shelf. With his cute round face and a red scarf wrapped around his neck, he was adorable and you really wanted him.

Seokjin wasn’t fazed at all. “He’s cute. I’ll try but don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

You nodded and handed him the hoops. He needed to loop all three around the skittles. You watched him with anticipation, thinking to yourself this definitely wasn’t one of your fantasies, but you liked it regardless. Liked it even better when Seokjin managed to win.

“Thank you, Seokjin,” you smiled, his name still feeling strange to say aloud. The man in charge of the game passed you your new ‘pet’ and you held it fondly, unable to stop yourself. Your landlord didn’t allow animals so you’d had to improvise over the years. You’d never had an alpaca before, but you were sure he’d fit right in.

“No problem, I’m glad I could be of service.” He chuckled.

There was a silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable but it was new. You were so used to Seokjin joking about you were expecting him to take the lead. Today he was quiet, actually right now he looked pretty awkward.

You opened your mouth to ask him how he was when you suddenly realised something. How stupid of you. You’d been so distracted by the stuffed animal you hadn’t realised a little certain someone was missing. “Where’s Arin?”

“She’s playing with a friend and their family.” You watched him scratch the back of his neck, looking at you, but not really making eye contact. “Y/N, do you maybe want to take a walk? We could find some where to sit and talk?”

“About what?” You could’ve kicked yourself. Why did you have to ask that? You were just a little dazed from hearing him say your name again.

“Uh, just about Arin really.”

You didn’t really know what you’d been expecting so any answer would’ve surprised you, but you nodded, taking him up on the offer. “Okay.”

You knew a bench away from the fate but still on school grounds, and you walked side by side, noticing just how tall and broad he was. His shoulders looked unbelievable in that sweater, and it hugged his chest perfectly when the light breeze of the afternoon hit him, his well-built chest visible. Not that you were staring or anything, you just happened to notice…

You small talked along the way. Not much, mostly about the fate, but it was enough for you to hit your destination without any awkward silence. You wracked your brains as you sat, wondering what he had to say about Arin. Maybe he wanted to discuss her stories more, thank you for the prize she’d won. What you did know though, was that his cologne really did smell amazing. It was woody, maybe spicy, and just plain addicting. This close proximity was wreaking havoc with you again. You sat the alpaca between you both on bench, acting as a barrier for your sanity.

Seokjin patted its head absentmindedly before he side-eyed you, that amused smile you’d become familiar with upturning the corners of his mouth. “You seem a lot less scrappy today.”

You raised both eyebrows, thrown for a moment. “Scrappy?”

“Yes,” he chuckled, “a lot less intimidating.”

You? Intimidating? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? The sheer power of Seokjin’s brow line alone could bring a person to quivering knees, and that wasn’t mentioning the obvious, like you know, his face. However, he seemed genuine enough. You didn’t really consider yourself feisty, but then again, when pushed to your limits maybe something just snapped inside of you. You had powers you weren’t aware of, obviously. Better own them then…

You gave a small shrug, smirking slightly. “Maybe I’ve chosen to forgive and forget.”

He chuckled again, genuinely amused, but you sensed some reluctance his end, a slight awkwardness. Was he stalling? You suddenly grew a little nervous. The dynamics you’d grown somewhat used to during your last few encounters had shifted without you knowing. Seokjin was a lot less teasing today. How come?

“So,” you pressed carefully, unable to handle the anticipation. “What was it you wanted to say?”

He lifted his head up, warm eyes meeting yours and your insides did that flurrying thing again. Your imagination hadn’t concocted this. When he smiled you realised how kind it was – how kind it could be when he wasn’t being infuriating. “I just want to thank you.”

Your eyes widened before you could control the surprise. “Thank me?”

He nodded, relaxing a little now, pressing his back into the bench. “For being such an amazing teacher to Arin these past couple of months.”

Of course, Arin. That’s what he’d said in the beginning, right? He wanted to sit and talk about Arin.

“That’s really no problem,” you smiled. It was your job after all. Yes, teachers liked being appreciated for their hard work, but personally, praise sent you a little red in the face.

You didn’t know if he heard you, already continuing, as if he’d rehearsed what he wanted to say. “It’s been really hard on her, the change – you know, uprooting the life she knew to come and live with me. New school, making new friends. She was incredibly worried, but you made it so much easier for her.”

Looking at you again, sounding so genuine, you found yourself freezing. You stumbled a little over your words before managing to come up with something functional. “Of course, it’s my job to make every student comfortable in my class.” You were sure any teacher would’ve treated her with the same kindness and care. But, yes, truthfully you had become very fond of her in such a short time. You wanted him to know that in a roundabout way. “I’ll miss her come September.”

He gave you an appreciative smile. “She’ll miss you too.”

Serious Seokjin always threw you. Maybe it was because you had to accept that you’d misjudged him completely. He wasn’t the rich pompous jerk you’d first thought the morning he’d hit your car. You had to admit that like this he impressed and intrigued you. It was why you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him these past two weeks. Which was stupid because you doubted he was doing the same.

“Thanks for choosing her to win that writing competition, by the way.” His voice brought you back to Earth, concentrating on him again to find that mischievous grin all over his face. “Even if you didn’t like the way it ended.”

You scoffed. Was he ever going to drop that? He knew that wasn’t the case. He’d asked for the damn pointer himself. “Well, if Lewis Carroll did it.”

“Kim Arin can too?” He finished, both of you instantly laughing. Once it petered off, he tilted his head to the side, gazing at you almost. It made you fidget a little, getting flustered. “She’s really fond of you. I meant what I said at the parent-teacher meeting.”

God, you really were horrendous at taking compliments. Especially from a man that already made you feel funny.

“She’s always speaking about how kind and lovely you are.” A pause. "...How pretty you are.” You froze. He hesitated, contemplating something in his head it seemed. He looked you straight in the eyes and said casually, “I have to admit, I agree."

Oh. What?! You felt heat begin to travel up your face, your cheeks burning and you prayed it wasn't visible. You didn't know what to reply, but thankfully (perhaps) Seokjin simply carried on, hopefully oblivious to your awkward reaction. You should bypass it too. It probably didn't mean anything. He was just being polite, right?

“Realising it was your car I hit made me feel even guiltier." He shook his head regretfully. "I really am sorry for all that. The damage, stealing your car."

"It's fine, Seokjin." He hadn’t really stolen your car, you’d been extremely overdramatic there. He'd apologised enough already. You were over it. You had two days left of school, the summer all yours, your mood was much better. Let bygones be bygones.

“Yeah but, I should’ve never gotten your car towed. I realise I was out of line. You said you didn’t want my help but I didn’t listen."

You nodded, listening to him, aware he needed to say this. Again, it seemed as if he'd rehearsed it almost, or maybe it was the professional in him. You were too damn stubborn so he wasn't all to blame. You smiled appreciatively, fighting your hand's strange urge to pat his shoulder. It was maybe best that you didn't touch him. Instead you gave a teasing grin. “But you still won’t let me pay you back?”

He whined – or at least that's the only way you could describe it. It tugged at something inside your chest. Maybe it was more like a wail. Less cute. He couldn't believe you were back on that.

"I'm just messing around," you laughed, trying to compose yourself to let him know something too. “While we're on apologies... I'm sorry for being so short with you annnd for calling you a car thief."

He chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair. Oh, it was pushed back above his forehead again today. You hadn't noticed, too distracted by what? His sneakers? The outfit as a whole? His face? “I deserved it, let’s be honest."

"Maybe in the beginning," you admitted carefully, causing him to laugh harder.

“I was way too preoccupied when I hit you. With work and promising Arin I’d drop her off at school – because shamefully I’d never done it before." He turned a little pensive at that, lost in his own thoughts.

“You must be really busy," you said, voice soft. There was no way he could do it all. Work seemingly six days a week and still try to be there for Arin 24/7.

He looked across at you, an eyebrow quirking slightly. What was he surprised by? That you were sympathising with him? He nodded slowly. “It’s just hard learning to juggle everything. Don’t get me wrong, I love having her with me every day, but...”

“I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it soon.” You wanted to say it would be summer break soon enough, but then on second thoughts, maybe that would make things even harder.

“Yeah, maybe,” he shrugged, changing the subject back to you. “Besides, me being busy doesn’t really excuse the fact I hit you. I mean, what if god forbid you’d been walking past my car instead, it doesn’t bear thinking about.” He looked beside himself at just the idea.

“But I wasn’t,” you reminded him, “so it’s perfectly okay.”

“You’re right,” he murmured, giving you a small smile that rounded his cheeks.

There was silence then, where you waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t. Was that all he’d wanted to talk about? To thank you for being a kind teacher to Arin and to say sorry once again for the car debacle? For some reason you felt eager to keep the conversation going. It was an urge deep inside you that acted on its own accord.

“So, what do you do?” You asked, trying your best to sound casual. Not that you weren’t casual. You just didn’t want to make it seem like you were desperate for small talk. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Again, he looked vaguely surprised. What, that you were interested in him? No, that was phrased wrong. That you were interested. He didn’t meet your eyes as he replied. “I, uh, I’m the CEO of LG. I took over from my father about three years ago.”

You swore your eyes bugged out of their sockets you were so overcome with shock. You were glad he wasn’t looking at you as you tried to pull it together. “The LG?”

Like one of the biggest companies in the country LG? He was way too young surely? Weren’t those type of CEOs old and round looking?

Seokjin chuckled, finally looking you in the eyes. “Unless you know another one.”

You were speechless, well aware you needed to actually say something in reply instead of gawping but what? What could you say to that? “I guess that explains why you’re always so busy then.”

God, why? Of all the things, why that? Well done for stating the obvious, Y/N.

Seokjin gave you a modest smile. “It’s difficult, yes. Trying to manage work and being effectively a single dad, but I really am trying.” He shook his head slightly, as if he was telling himself off. “I missed her so much these past couple of years, so to finally have her living with me is a dream come true. I’m trying to be the best father I can but I guess it’s a work in progress.”

You weren’t expecting him to be this open with you at all. But maybe Soojung wouldn’t be so surprised. She and a bunch of your other friends, even acquittances said that you were easy to confide in. That you listened well and didn’t try to solve everything. You didn’t know how true that was but you didn’t mind listening to him right now. Sometimes confiding in a stranger just worked.

“Arin obviously adores you.” You smiled. “I could see that the day I dropped your car back.”

He gave you a tiny smile of thanks but sighed softly. “I just want her to always be happy. I know coming from a broken home may make that statement hypocritical but…”

“Not at all,” you insisted. “If a relationship isn’t working out then you need to do what’s best for your child, and you.” That was important too. “I mean, my parents divorced when I was quite young and I have a million and one happy memories growing up.”

You grew a little self-conscious, thinking that you were oversharing, but he seemed happy to hear it, perking up a little. “Really?”

“Yep. They beat the ones I have of them yelling at one another.”

He gave a bitter chuckle then, nodding in agreement. “That’s right. It’s just…” He paused and you wondered if he was going to carry on. Was it bad that you felt curious? You liked seeing this side of Seokjin, it wasn’t how your fantasies had gone at all, it was better. Things had taken an unexpected turn but it just seemed to fit. It seemed natural. It felt nice to talk to him like this. Suddenly you didn’t seem so different. Despite the contrasts in your job and lifestyle, they weren’t very apparent here on this bench…

“My ex-wife is… she lives a busy life – even busier than mine. But she loves it. She goes looking for it.” Seokjin explained. You listened politely. “That’s why Arin had to start living with me, and even though I’m pulled thin, I still try to make enough time for my daughter, no matter the day, no matter the time, no matter anything. Nana doesn’t…”

Nana? That was her name. You imagined someone slim and beautiful, it was only fitting seeing as Seokjin was the man she was married to once upon a time. Beauty attracted beauty.

“Is that why you divorced?” Okay, maybe you were prying now. You hoped he didn’t find it rude.

He didn’t. “There were a lot of reasons,” he answered honestly. “It was as much my fault as it was hers. We were going in different directions and had fallen out of love. It’s been a while now, nearly two years, I’m fine.” He met your eyes at the last part, as if he wanted you to understand that. Or maybe you were reading it wrong. Why would he want you to know that?

“Does she live far?” You remembered Arin’s disappointment that weekend when her mom had cancelled their plans. Maybe she lived a while away and it was hard to commute with Arin back and forth.

“No, just in the next city. It’s not far at all. She’s really high up in an accounting firm there. That’s why when we divorced I moved closer to my building here. See, that’s what annoys me the most,” Seokjin scoffed, an edge to his voice now. Oh shoot, you’d made a mistake with that question. “It’s really no distance at all, so why can’t she spare one single day for Arin?”

You made a sympathetic face, unsure what to say. You decided on honesty. “I’m sorry, I can’t even begin to imagine how all that feels.”

Break-ups and divorces were hard yes, but when a child was stuck in the middle a tonne of other complications arose. As a teacher you understood that very well, but as a long-time single woman, maybe not. It had been a while since you’d opened your heart to someone, your life taking a very different turn to what you’d expected three years ago. Not that you minded, you liked where you were heading right now, comfortable and at ease. There was nothing missing. You had your friends and family and that was enough. You hoped Seokjin had people around him too.

“No, I’m the one that should apologise,” he said suddenly, face tinged with colour, as if he was embarrassed. “I’m offloading onto you, that isn’t fair.”

“I don’t mind.” Honestly, you didn’t at all. It wasn’t even offloading, more so a conversation. You were getting to know him.

“You’re just so easy to talk to and I got a bit caught off guard when you started asking about me.” He admitted, his warm eyes finding yours.

Oh. So now you knew for definite he was indeed surprised by all your questions. When was the last time he’d spoken about all that stuff relating his ex-wife? Had he ever spoken about it at all?

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you today.”

His words caught your attention, interrupting your thoughts and in the process confusing you greatly. You raised a questioning eyebrow. What did he mean?

“When I asked you to take a walk I did want to thank you for being so kind to Arin and to apologise for the car trouble, but there was also something else…” You waited patiently, heart thudding quite roughly against your chest for some reason. He looked nervous again. Nervous and awkward just like earlier, before you’d distracted him.

He chose a new direction. One that left you a little dazed. “Y/N, would I be crossing the line if I said I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately?” His dark brown eyes searched for any reaction across your face.

“Me?” You asked quietly.

He chuckled bashfully. “Yeah.”

Somehow you found your voice. Well, some of it anyway. “No, it’s not crossing the line.” You wanted to tell him just the same. How he’d slipped into your mind at random times of the day and how you’d secretly been holding out on another meeting. How you’d been anticipating today. But none of that came in your stunned state. Seokjin had been thinking about you? The annoying, exasperating so-and-so hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you?

He instantly looked relieved – and pleased – at your answer. “I’m glad.” A pause as he hesitated. “Do you maybe want to… go out for dinner this Saturday?” He sounded hopeful, adding quickly, “with me, obviously.”

You would’ve giggled at that but nothing was working. You needed to process his question. He was asking you for dinner?

“My way of apologising for everything, my treat…” You guessed he felt the need to explain now, a little panicked by your reaction (or no reaction.) “For hitting your car and towing it away without your permission.”

You laughed then. Just like that your shock dispersing. He was so oblivious it hurt, and now you knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose. He really was that unaware. “So you want to spend more of your money on me?”

You weren’t mad, of course. He knew that, laughing too as he weighed up your reply. “I see the problem.” You snickered, your gaze intimately locking with his in the process. “So, what do you say?” He murmured. “I mean, it’s for a plethora of things really. The car business, all you’ve done for Arin. One massive thank you.”

Oh. You were getting mixed messages here. Was this an apology dinner, a thank you dinner? Or something more? Maybe he read the questioning in your eyes because he was rushing to say more. “As well as just wanting to enjoy your company. I feel like I talked too much about myself today, I’d like to get to know you too…”

Okay, now this sounded awfully like a date… And that word freaked you out. Had you not just been thinking about how happily single you’d been for three years and how all you needed were your friends and family? But honestly, you were getting ahead of yourself. It was one dinner. There was no way to predict the outcome and you shouldn’t even be thinking that far ahead. Sometimes you didn’t need to think. You needed to remember that. Sometimes it was just good to act in the moment. Take cautious to the wind and accept this incredibly handsome man’s dinner invitation, whatever his intention was.

You smiled. “Dinner sounds lovely.”

Seokjin’s eyes widened a tad, surprise visible and he didn’t try to hide it. “Really?” You laughed and nodded. Really you should be the one still shocked, because despite everything – the misjudgements, the attitude, the way you’d been itching for numerous fights with him, it was a wonder why he still wanted to be anywhere near you. …Maybe he liked that… Maybe he liked you? Or were you absolutely barking mad?

“Can I have your number to arrange everything?”

You went to relay it to him, watching him pull his phone from out his front jean pocket but then remembered something. “Oh, I already have yours, should I just text you?”

“That’s my work phone. Maybe we should swap personal phone numbers?”

You mean, you only had one phone, but it made sense why he had two. You were still stuck on the personal part though. A little dazed (and excited) as he saved your number into his phonebook. Your phone was locked up in your classroom, so you couldn’t take his but no matter, you’d just save it once he messaged you.

Seokjin glanced at his watch – an expensive looking thing, but that was really no surprise now – and hummed. “We should head back, the fate will be finishing soon.”

You made more small talk as you walked back, Seokjin wondering if you had any allergies or a special diet so he could bear it in mind when he chose a restaurant. Luckily for you no, but you found out that he was allergic to garlic and potatoes, which seemed ridiculous and highly unfair. But he did admit that he ignored it sometimes, which resulted in disaster often because garlic made him itch like crazy. You had a good laugh over that.

“So, what are you going to name him?” Seokjin asked, stroking the top of your alpaca’s head who was hooked against your hip as you walked.

“Hm. I don’t know.” You shrugged, turning to him. “You decide? You did win him after all.”

“Hmmm,” he thought aloud. A few seconds later he came up with something. “How about RJ?”

“RJ?”

Seokjin chuckled. “Yeah, it’s cute.”

Smiling, you had to agree. “Yeah, it is.” You held the stuffed animal up in front of you, tilting your head to the side. “RJ the alpaca. Perfect.”

Still walking as you spoke, you felt Seokjin move in, hovering his hand behind the small of your back in case you stumbled, your attention elsewhere. You felt the same warmth you had the day he’d called you by your name for the first time…

Of course you had to tell Soojung about the events of the day. It wasn't as if you could keep it a secret – and it wasn't as if you wanted to, you just knew what would happen... She was like a dog with a bone, unable to give it up, making you recall every minute detail down to the socks he was wearing (black, by the way, to match his jeans. You had indeed noticed).

“He’s so smart. He waits until you’re not this kid’s teacher anymore and then BAM, do you want to go on a date?”

“Soojung, it’s not a date," you sighed. “He’s just…being nice."

You were still reluctant to call it a date, because well, he hadn't used the word himself. You didn't want to get your hopes up. Although you would never admit that to her, you knew she understood, in her own roundabout way.

“Being nice?!” She exclaimed, scoffing absurdly loud.

You shrugged. “Yeah, thanking me."

She spluttered, as if she found you terribly naive. “What, thanks for being kind to my daughter? SHUT UP, it’s your job! No, he wants to give you that Dilf dick!"

“Oh, my god. Soojung!” You hushed, immediately feeling your face burn. The thought hadn't even crossed your mind because it was so unbelievable.

Saturday was not that long away, the last two days of school flew by, and whilst you were emotional, your mind was also a little too preoccupied with the weekend and what it all meant. Gradually, you’d finally had to admit to yourself that this was probably, most definitely a date. The word sent a fear through your body like no other. Despite being single for three years, you had been on a few first dates in that time, and obviously they had never led to anything. In fact, it had been over a year since your last and that's when you had sworn off dating altogether.

Min Yoongi. That was the last guy you'd said yes too. A fifth grade teacher at Primrose Hill up until last September. (That had nothing to do with you, by the way, he'd just moved cities last summer to pursue a different career. The date hadn't been that bad...) He was easy on the eye and funny, although maybe a little too sarcastic at times, so much so, you hadn't been able to pick up on the signals until he was cornering you in the staff room and asking you to watch a movie with him that coming weekend. Being both teachers, you'd assumed you'd hit it off straight away, but that wasn't the case. It turned out that Yoongi pretty much hated his job, only there for the extended vacations. That was perfectly fine, you guessed, but you realised that a man like that wasn't for you. How could you both love and hate the same job? It just wasn't feasible.

You didn't miss dating, mostly because you hadn't been that into the idea anyway. But now? Now that the idea had presented itself again? After the most peculiar string of events, you had suddenly found yourself being asked out for dinner by the man who had hit your car, and you were… excited. For the first time in forever, you were excited for a date.

You hadn’t felt like this since –

Since Donghae.

Even thinking his name turned your heart heavy. Not as bad as the original heartbreak three years ago, but the memory was still enough to dampen your mood, if even for a moment. You'd met one another during your last year of college and had stayed together for the next five years. He'd been your forever man, the one you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with – he had proposed to you on your 26th birthday after all... Only, being his fiancé hadn't lasted. Since months later he confessed to cheating on you – repeatedly with a girl that worked in the Starbucks near his work building. It had been the pressure of settling down, that's what he'd told you. He was still young, had been very young when you'd gotten together in college and he wanted to experience life properly. His friends were out clubbing every weekend while he stayed inside playing boardgames with you and your friends. Your friends, as if they weren't his too, as if you all hadn't been joined at the hip in college...

Your life had pretty much crumbled after that. Everything you'd known had been ripped from under your feet and you had no idea what to do or where to go. One day you had been someone's wife-to-be and the next you were a lonely, broken human. You moved in with Soojung, had to take a month off work because you couldn't function properly, and slowly had to learn how to live your life without the love of your life.

It took a while, but gradually you got there. You and Soojung found a new, bigger place to live – where you still lived now – and you found ways to stop thinking about him, went on weekend vacations and started new hobbies. It took just over a year to feel yourself again but dating never seemed right.

Soojung slowly encouraged you to try it out, but the handful that happened in that twelve month period just felt forced – even the one with Yoongi, which had pretty much happened organically (as in, Soojung hadn't set it up…), felt like it was missing something. In a way you knew you were comparing everyone to Donghae, you couldn't help it. You couldn't imagine potentially falling in love with someone else again. He was all you'd known for so long, and once upon a time your relationship had been amazing. He'd been amazing. Getting out of that mindset had been difficult, but there had been an even more difficult one... One you were still struggling with now. The issue of opening up your heart again.

Truthfully, that's why you’d stayed single for so long. Why you'd given up on dating and didn't want to know. The thought of you meeting and falling for someone only to inevitably get hurt again terrified you. You wouldn't say you had trust issues, you knew not every man was like Donghae, but just imagining your world crumbling like it had three years ago was enough to just give up.

It wasn't like you were unhappy though. You’d meant all that stuff about liking where your life was heading. You had your friends and family and a job you loved. Your life was fulfilling, there was nothing missing. But maybe that’s what you’d needed to realise… Life worked in mysterious ways. Once you were happy and content maybe it was finally time to open up your heart again.

The truth was, you were very, very attracted to Seokjin. You felt something, even when you wanted to poke his eyeballs out for being so annoying. Actually, thinking about it, maybe that’s why you’d been so scrappy, your mind was fighting with your heart… Despite the obvious differences between you both, you oddly weren’t fazed by that right now. Seokjin didn’t seem unrelatable in that sense. Yes, your lives were crazy different, but there was something between you. You were sure of it. The way he’d opened up to you on that bench, the way he’d smiled at you, and even the way he’d teased you. It had to mean something.

Sometimes it was okay to trust your heart. That warm feeling weaving its way through your chest… Sometimes it was okay to be a little exposed. Not everyone was out to get you.

What was the worst that could happen? The dinner never led to anything else? That would be okay, you’d get over it. But what if it did lead to something more…?

You deserved to find out, right?

Saturday morning you received a text from Seokjin. You were eating breakfast at the small table you had set up in the kitchen alongside Soojung. She had only just woken up and was still a little bleary eyed but still managed to instantly perk up at the mention of Seokjin. She demanded to see his message straight away.

Unknown (9:32am) Hi Y/N, It’s Kim Seokjin, Arin’s father. Just wondering if you still want to have dinner tonight? If so, please let me know and I will send through the restaurant details. We can decide on a time for me to pick you up. Regards, Seokjin

She squealed. “This guy writes his texts like they’re emails. You just know he’s going to be a good lay.”

“Soojung,” you groaned. She would not shut up about Dilf dick this and Dilf dick that. “What does that even mean?”

“He’s a CEO,” she said simply, eyes wide as if that explained everything. “Of one of this country’s biggest companies. That’s like some type of erotic novel shit.”

You groaned loudly, dropping your head into your hands, but she still continued – sadly.

“But none of that creepy Fifty Shades of Grey stuff. This guy is a real gentleman. Like he puts your pleasure above all else. I think he’d be really good at going down on a woman.”

By this point, you’d stopped feeling flustered by her insane claims. They were just normal now. She was unbelievable. Why was she even thinking of these things and where did she come up with them? You didn’t want to think of Seokjin like that because you really wanted to keep your sanity for tonight. Plus, no way were you ready for something like that yet. You hoped Seokjin wasn’t anticipating something more. You were sure he wasn’t, you hadn’t gotten those vibes. Soojung was just being dumb.

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t half talk some shit.”

You wanted her to point out how cute his text was instead. Like how he’d said he was Arin’s father, you know, just in case you’d forgotten who he was in two days, but no, she was too caught up on potential erotic novel titles.

You slipped to the side with a start when Soojung nudged your shoulder, getting all up into your personal space as she teased you. “I’m right though, huh?”

You pushed her back. “This is just a dinner. Not the start of an erotic novel.”

She shrugged. “I’d read it.”

“What would you read?”

Taehyung’s voice appeared from the doorway and you both looked up to see him leaning against it, eyes still pretty much glued shut, his thick hair pulled all ways.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Soojung greeted, standing up to make her way towards him. You watched her wrap her arms around his middle, nuzzling into him. She’d only left him in bed not half an hour ago. Seeing your best friend in love was odd but nice. You weren’t used to sappy Soojung, but you had to admit it suited her well. They were cute together.

Taehyung wrapped one arm around his girlfriend and lifted the other to his face, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. “What are you guys yelling about down here? You woke me up.”

“Y/N’s date tonight,”

“Oh, Mr. Dilf?” He sniggered, perking up.

Soojung screeched and joined in. “CEO Dilf dick.”

“You told him?!” You whined, standing to dump your bowl in the sink.

“Of course.” Taehyung smiled smugly. “She tells me everything. Don’t you, babe?”

“Yep.” She grinned. You watched in minor amusement as Taehyung leant down to peck her mouth, Soojung gagging loudly. “Your breath stinks.”

You replied to Seokjin promptly – well as soon as Soojung and Taehyung had vacated the kitchen – and not long after that he messaged back with the restaurant details, asking if it was okay to pick you up at 7pm. You sent him your address, almost immediately freaking out. You knew his wealth hadn't fazed you that bad, seeing as he was so easy to talk to, but your place and his place were on different planes of existence. You knew it wouldn't bother him, he wasn't like that, you knew that now, but you were still a little self-conscious. It was probably the nerves regarding today. The reality was setting it. The slight doubt…

Soojung wasn't helping.

“There’s steaks on the menu that are more than our rent a week," she awed, looking down at her phone.

Why had you given her the name of the restaurant again? You would never learn your lesson. She had already googled his name when you’d told her he was the CEO of LG and she had been this close to searching his net worth before you’d stopped her. You didn’t want to know, not only was it incredibly invasive, it made you feel slightly faint. Seeing his image pop up online was enough for you . A professional headshot, he smiled kindly into the camera lens. It was crazy to think that it was the man you’d be going to dinner with.

Soojung would be good for one thing though – helping you decide on an outfit for tonight. Taehyung had gone home a couple of hours ago, needed at the bar he owned so she had nothing else better to do. Not that she was listening to you though…

She shrugged. “What did I expect? This dude is a billionaire."

“He’s not."

Billionaire seemed a lot more intimidating than a millionaire, but in reality what was the difference? He was unbelievably rich and you were just... you. You shook your head, attempting to claw yourself out of the anxiety hole you'd found yourself in. His job didn't matter. The restaurant he'd chosen didn't matter. You were going for dinner with him to enjoy his company and get to know him better. The finer details were irrelevant.

“Come on! If not he must be a multi-multimillionaire." She rationalised. "His dad is the billionaire."

You groaned. "Will you stop making me nervous and help me pick something to wear?"

You decided on the midi dress you'd actually worn to Eunbi's wedding last summer. It was the only fancy thing you had – or at least fancy enough to dine at a restaurant that sold insane dollar steaks. But wait, the restaurant wasn't supposed to matter, remember?

You still wanted to look nice though. The dress was modest in itself but maybe the colour was a bit eye-catching – a deep red. Soojung said it was perfect and you'd knock his Dilf socks off. By now you were getting sick of the word. You told her as much.

"What if I don't want to sleep with him?"

"As if." She scoffed. "Your dry spell has gone on far too long. You deserve this." She caught the look of apprehension on your face. "When you're ready of course."

"Don't make me –”

"Nervous, I know" she finished for you, sighing loudly. "There's no need to be. Mr. Dilf is whipped for you, I just know it."

How did she know? She hadn't even met him, but you appreciated the sentiment. You did not appreciate it when she was being a clever bitch though.

"I'm just trying to work this out." She said, watching you apply your mascara in the bathroom mirror. It was much later in the day now, about forty minutes before Seokjin was due to pick you up. You were dressed, hair up, makeup nearly done, and sick to your stomach with anticipation. You hummed, letting her know you'd heard her and to continue.

"You were mad when Dilf spent money on your car but you're okay with him spending mad money on you at this restaurant?"

"Soojung," you warned, staring at her reflection in the glass.

She held her hands up in apology. "Sorry, sorry. I'm just curious. Is it okay when it's food?"

You sighed. You knew it didn't really make sense, you guessed, but well, you'd said yes to the dinner. You hadn't said yes to the car being repaired. That was the difference.

"I'm not going to order the most expensive thing on the menu."

"Well, don't just order a side salad, he'll think you're weird..."

You simply stared at her. Her input was so appreciated.

“He’s here, oh my god, he’s here!” Soojung screamed, spying through the voile curtains in the living room. "Ten minutes early. I love that."

“Soojung, move away, now." You told her sternly.

“The fucking car–” She cut herself with a muffled sound. As if she was trying to stifle her own screams. You guessed he'd gotten out of said car. “What the fuck, what the fuck, he’s SO hot. I’m going to pass out."

“Soojung!" Dropping your phone into your purse you slipped on your heels, nearly tripping over in the process. You gripped onto the back of the couch just in time. "I swear to god if he sees you."

She spun around, pointing an accusing finger at you. “You never said he was that hot."

You shrugged. "You never asked."

"I asked every goddamn second of the day. You lucky bitch." She walked towards you, fixing a piece of your hair that had fallen into your eyes. “How come you get hot billionaire Dilf and I get the man-child whose special talent is making cocktails."

"Shut up," you scoffed. She loved Taehyung and his cocktail making skills. That's how they'd met after all. She drunk at the bar three days a week for a month straight until he asked her out.

The doorbell rung and you froze, remembering how nervous you were. Soojung's antics had distracted you for a while but now reality was setting in. As you turned to leave she tapped your ass. “Get that Dilf dick, girl!”

"Soojung, I swear to god –”

"I won't wait up."

Ha. As if. She'd be glued to that window until Seokjin dropped you off back home. You knew her all too well, you'd been best friends for over ten years.

In the entryway now, you didn't have time for breathing exercises. Although, you wished you'd had once you opened the door to see Seokjin stood there looking devastating handsome.

“Hi," he smiled, eyes lighting up when he saw you.

“Hey," you managed to squeeze out, cemented to the ground.

He was dressed in a double breasted navy two piece that must have been tailored to fit his body down to the millimetre, a crisp white dress shirt on underneath. His hair looked shorter, falling just above is eyebrows and parted slightly in the middle. He looked good enough to eat. Or good enough to make you pass out. Either one.

“You look beautiful," he awed, rendering you pretty speechless.

This was a date. It really was a date.

"Thank you," you managed to reply, needing to return the compliment. But what could you possibly say?! “You look…really good."

Oh god. How embarrassing.

Especially when Seokjin burst out laughing, that familiar squeak to it that you'd heard at the parent-teacher meeting. "I'll take it. Thanks." He tilted his head. "Are you ready to go? I'm a bit early, I know. Sorry about that."

You nodded, clutching your purse tight to your side. "I, uh... I would invite you in to kill time but my best friend’s embarrassing." You raised your voice a little so she'd hear you, but on her best behaviour she stayed deathly silent. Well done, Soojung.

Seokjin raised an eyebrow, a little confused, but you figured you'd fill him in inside the car. "It's fine," he shook his head.

Seeing you stepping forward he moved to the side, outstretching his arm to invite you to lead the way. You did, making sure not to look back towards the living room window, because you knew for a fact you'd see Soojung pressed up against it.

“This is all new for me.” Seokjin admitted, sat opposite you as you waited for your dessert. “I haven’t been on a date for years.”

To say the night had gone well would be an understatement. At first you’d been too nervous to even breathe, especially with Seokjin looking like that just a few centimetres away from you as he drove. It didn’t help that he seemed to be some type of regular at the restaurant, getting greeted as if he was an old friend of the manager and led to his ‘usual’ table; a quiet spot away from the hustle and bustle. It turned out he co-owned the place with his brother, looking mildly embarrassed as he told you. It was cute, but he had nothing to be self-conscious over, this was his life, normal to him. I hope you don’t see it as a cop-out, he confessed, causing some confusion your end. Why would you see it that way? This restaurant was beautiful, certainly popular, and you couldn’t wait to try the food. You told him as much and he laughed about feeling nervous now.

You tried lobster for the first time ever – his recommendation. It was kind of messy, but he ordered the same so you were both in it together. You laughed, you joked, you got to know one another more. Conversation came easy, both relaxed in one another’s company, and after the main you both decided to share a dessert, too stuffed for anything more.

“Snap,” you grinned, silently happy that was the case, although rather amazed. Seokjin was, well… him, who wouldn’t want to snap him up? However then again, he was a busy, divorced father. Dating probably wasn’t high up on his list. You were so distracted by his confession, you didn’t even comprehend he’d used the word ‘date.’

“Really?” Seokjin’s eyes bulged slightly. Why was he so surprised?

You shrugged casually. “It’s been well over a year since my last date.”

Seokjin’s mouth curved, amused. “Try over ten.”

“I wasn’t aware this was a competition,” you laughed, but yes, he indeed had you beat.

He laughed along, the arrival of your lemon cheesecake interrupting you both for a moment. It was a few bites later when the conversation got back on track again, Seokjin’s tone careful as he looked across at you, both of you reaching for another bit of the cheesecake with your dessert forks. “You don’t mind me calling this a date, do you? This isn’t the part where you tell me you’ve been in a relationship for five years and you just thought this was an innocent thank you dinner?”

You giggled softy, shaking your head. “No. I don’t mind you calling it a date.” You brought the fork up to your mouth, taking your time to chew before you continued. “Soojung was adamant it was but I… didn’t want get my hopes up?” You wanted to be honest. This night was about opening yourself up to the uncertain.

“Soojung, your best friend? The one you live with?” He asked.

You nodded. You’d already told him all about your best friend, about how you lived with each other. Seokjin hadn’t bat an eyelid, which was nice. You weren’t embarrassed or anything, but the differences in your living arrangements were stark. He thought it sounded fun. He still remembered living with his best friend Namjoon back in college and how entertaining that had been. He’d definitely be up for it again if they weren’t both dads now – divorced at that, but hey ho, that was life.

“Well, she was correct.” Seokjin continued. “I thought I made it clear but I guess I was too cryptic.”

“So, which one is it?” You asked, lifting an eyebrow in interest. “Not an innocent thank you dinner or not an innocent dinner?”

You were feeling brave, however your heart still thudded inside your chest, adrenaline whooshing through your veins. There was something about Seokjin that made you act so out of character…

Seokjin failed to conceal the visible surprise across his features and you watched him swallow before he composed himself, a smirk appearing on his lips immediately. “If I didn’t know any better I would say you were flirting with me right now.”

You shrugged. “I’m just checking if your intentions are innocent or not?” You took another bite of the cheesecake.

His smirk grew, and you watched him drop his fork onto the plate to lean back in his chair. “I would say they are, however, I did have plans to kiss you on the cheek tonight, so maybe, busted?” He chuckled then, at himself – he liked doing that you’d noticed. It was kind of cute.

The butterflies were back. Now there was no need to ignore or try to explain them. You took them as what they were – a good sign. Humming aloud, you tilted your head to the side and pretended to contemplate. “I think I can let you do that.”

Seokjin laughed. “You can? Okay, that sounds good.”

You reached for your glass of wine, needing a sip just to calm the flurry inside of you. Seokjin tucked his chair closer, still laughing but quietly now, more like a chuckle. “Honestly, I was pretty much shitting my pants today.”

You snorted into your glass, taken by surprise at his choice of words. “Sorry,” you apologised, feeling a little bit embarrassed by the sound that had just left your nose. He didn’t same fazed. “I was nervous too.”

That seemed to settle him. He smiled fondly, fingers tracing the brim of his glass. “I guess we were being silly.” His lips parted to say something else but he hesitated. You watched him take a quiet exhale, then he continued. “My therapist has been begging me to try dating again for months but the thought has always been pretty terrifying.” He gave a small shrug, his warm eyes locking with yours. “Until I met you.”

You could feel your heart rate speeding up, unable to stop the smile that spread across your face. He was pleased, grinning back, posture visibly relaxing. “She said I should face up to my fears and just ask you out.”

There were a lot of thoughts whirring through your mind right now. The fact he felt comfortable enough to disclose with you that he had a therapist, and the fact that he’d even mentioned you to her, that she had encouraged him to ask you out. The fact he’d liked you enough to want to take the plunge at all. After two years of being alone, you were the woman who had made him want to try again… It felt comparable to your own thoughts, to your feelings… and that’s why you felt so relaxed tonight. It just felt right.

“I like you, Y/N.” He confessed. “I know we don’t know one another very well, but I hope that this is just the beginning.”

Despite his words sending your butterflies crazy, you kept your cool, trying to stunt your smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, I guess.”

He chuckled. You let yourself smile at the sound. “Not so bad. I’ll take it.” He picked up his fork again, taking a bite of the cheesecake you’d both forgotten about. His voice was careful, genuine to match his expression, when he carried on. “Despite the circumstances of how we met and what followed, I don’t know, I haven’t felt a spark like that in forever.” He reached for a sip of his wine, laughing. “What do you think? You can call me crazy if you want.”

“I think you’re right.” There was no doubt about it now. You’d been adamant in the beginning that was nothing there – no spark, no flirting, insisting Soojung was wrong, but now you couldn’t deny the obvious attraction. You’d immediately bounced off one another that evening during the parent-teacher meeting, despite your annoyance the day before.

You grinned. “You frustrated me to no end but I felt something too.”

He tilted his head to the left, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Frustrated you? How so?”

“You know how,” you laughed. “I may or may not have called you an exasperating bastard in my head.”

He couldn’t contain himself then, taken back and genuinely amused. “Oh god,” he practically wheezed. “I like that one.”

You laughed along, unable not to when the sound he made brought you such joy. You reached for another forkful of cheesecake, the dessert nearly coming to an end. Just like the date, you thought. You didn’t want it to end, you were enjoying yourself too much.

“What about now?”

You looked up at Seokjin, eyes widening in question. What did he mean? He was staggeringly composed now, although his eyes shone with mischief as he grinned and explained. “Do I frustrate you now?”

You tried to stunt your own smile, shrugging your shoulders. “Not tonight.”

“At the fate?”

“Nope.”

He nodded his head, seemingly happy with your answers. “I guess things are looking up then.” He picked up his glass again, about to take a sip before he paused and added, “Although, I must admit, I liked frustrating you. You look so cute when your mad.”

You felt heat immediately burn its way to your cheeks, hoping the lighting in this restaurant was dim enough not to make it obvious. He took a swig of his wine. “Watch it, Mr. Kim.” As he chuckled it muffled inside the glass.

You went for the last piece of cheesecake, figuring you were owed that now. You looked across at him as you chewed, knowing that if you really wanted this to happen again you needed to let him know. Face up to your fears of opening up, telling people how you really felt. “I’d like to get to know you better, Seokjin.”

“Really?” He sounded hopeful, fingers playing with the rim of his wine glass again.

“Mmhm.” You nodded. “You seem like a lovely man if we ignore the car stealing...”

“Hey,” he whined, “you apologised for that already, you can’t bring it up again.” You held your hands up in silent defence, chuckling silently, watching him lean closer. “But please, go back to what you were saying about me being a lovely man. Stroke my ego, it’s been a long week.”

Had it? You were curious, concerned really. You thought to ask him if he wanted to talk about it, but you guessed the last thing he’d like to do was discuss work on a date. Instead, you decided to tell him about what attracted you most to him. The thing that had inevitably made you change your mind and realise that maybe, quite possibly, you’d misjudged him.

“Arin really adores you and I can see how much you dote on her. Any man cherished by his child is a good one in my eyes.”

“Oh.” He simply replied, possibly at a loss of words. He looked touched – happy, but ultimately unsure of what to reply, so he bypassed it in a way, raising an eyebrow. “So is there some kind of checklist?”

“What do you mean?”

He gave a slight shrug. “Like, ‘kids like him – check.’ ‘He knows how to clean dishes – check.’ – I can by the way. I’m really good with a pair of washing up gloves and some dish soap.”

You burst out laughing, not quite believing your ears. “Yeah, okay.” You admitted. “There’s a list.” Didn’t every woman have one?

“Let’s see how I fare then.” Seokjin said, sounding sure of himself as he leant back in his seat, hands behind his head – the image of casual. Maybe you were into this cocky Seokjin… It was sort of hot.

“Okay so…” You began, leaning forward. “Family man – check.” You’d already approved that one. “Loves animals?”

He scoffed. “Easy. Animals are so much better than humans.”

Okay, more points his way… “Uhh.” You thought aloud, racking your brains. “Does he make me laugh?”

Seokjin mulled it over. “That sounds like a decision you have to make, but I think it’s a yes? I mean, you’ve been laughing all night. Unless you were just being nice.”

“No, you are funny,” you confirmed, although you were unable to miss an opportunity to mess around with him. “You have that, what should I call it,” you pretended to think, “that old man type sense of humour.”

“Hey. I’m not that old,” he huffed.

You chuckled quietly. True, he wasn’t old, but you were still surprised when you’d found out he was turning 38 this coming December. Some people were blessed with ageing gracefully. Of course he was one of them. The man looked amazing for someone two years away from forty.

“What about you?” You wondered. “Do you have a checklist?”

He sat upright again, setting his elbow on the table to drop his chin in his palm, giving you his full attention. “Yes, and you check them all.”

“I do?” You laughed in disbelief. Either he was easy to please or he wanted brownie points.

He shrugged, as if to say of course. “You’re funny, caring, can be kind of scary at times – which I’m sort of into, to be honest.”

“I’m not scary,” you protested, pouting slightly. However, what? He was into it? That made you feel funny…

He smirked. “I beg to differ.”

You rolled your eyes. “What else do I check off?”

He didn’t need time to think. “You’re insanely beautiful.” Your dumbfounded expression made him second guess himself. He pulled a face. “Yikes. Too cheesy?”

You grinned, getting a hold of yourself. “Maybe, but then again, maybe I like that.” How could you not like being called beautiful? How could you not like receiving a compliment? Especially from him.

He smiled, gazing into your eyes as he leant forward. You felt immediate warmth when his hand cupped yours across the table. This was the first time he’d touched you, right? Your mind was a blur right now, unable to recall two hours ago, let alone two weeks ago. When he spoke, you only felt warmer, the soft timbre of his voice fluttering through your whole body. “I’m really attracted to you, Y/N.”

And what could you say to that? You swallowed, wetting your throat, realising it had become dry. He was waiting for a reply, amused by something – your blank looking face most probably. He had the ability to render you speechless, and he knew it. He liked it.

Well, no, not on your watch. You’d get the last word. You’d win.

Composing yourself, you slipped your hand from under his, tapping it lightly, as if you were consoling him. “I’ve said it once already, but you’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Kim.”

Taken aback, he chuckled quietly in bemusement, shaking his head. “You’re going to give me wrinkles.”

A man of his word, he did kiss you on the cheek after the date was over. He waited until he had driven you home and opened the door for you to step out of the car – ever the gentleman, you’d teased. You stood by the little gate that lead a pathway to your front door, and that’s where he’d leant down to place his lips ever so lightly against the top of your left cheek. You smiled shyly up at him, unable to play it cool this time.

He looked a little rosy in the face too, unsure as he smiled. “I had a lovely time tonight.”

“Me too,” you agreed. “Can I take you out next time?” You surprised yourself by the offer, that kiss must have shot some confidence into you.

He looked surprised too, but into it, tilting his head in curiosity as he looked down at you. “Where do you suggest?”

“My place?” Okay, so it wasn’t ‘taking him out’ but you liked the idea best. Soojung could stay over Tae’s. She owed you one. “I can cook for you,” you offered, a hand unconsciously reaching for the collar of his jacket, straightening it for him. “To you know, return the favour of you paying for dinner to say sorry for paying for my car to get fixed.”

His hand clasped around yours, dropping it between your bodies to hold it as he chuckled.

“This is getting a little confusing now.” He swung your hand gently and you curled your little finger around his loosely. You could get used to this physical contact. It felt ordinary, like you’d been doing it forever. “Can’t we just call it dating and have done?”

You rolled your shoulders with a sigh, sounding casual and unbothered. “I guess, if it’s easier.”

Seokjin’s laugh got lower, his face closer. His eyes kept looking between your eyes and lips, and you realised your heart was beginning to beat slower, or was it faster? You couldn’t tell anymore, but you could hear it pounding lightly inside your ears. You were in the middle of playing the same game – eyes then lips, eyes then lips – the seconds feeling more like minutes as he leant in closer and closer, but then –

You spotted Soojung in the window as you happened to glance behind Seokjin’s shoulder. She had now totally bypassed the voile curtain, thinking she was Miss. Inconspicuous with the lights off. The street lighting was as bright as anything though, and all you could see was her face glowing like a ghost as she ruined the moment entirely. You were not having your first kiss with Seokjin in front of her prying eyes.

Seokjin realised your attention was elsewhere now, awkwardly pulling back to scratch his neck with his free hand. You clutched at the hand that was holding yours, not wanting him to think you’d blown him off. He didn’t say anything though, just continued your conversation with a bemused smile. “Um, so what are you going to cook?”

“What do you like?” You asked, only half your attention on him. Maybe you could silently signal to Soojung, tell her to get the hell out of the window before Seokjin noticed.

“I’m easy,” you heard him reply. “What’s your speciality?”

“Uh…” Think Y/N, think. Distracted you said the first thing that popped into your head, still trying to force Soojung away with just your eyeballs. “Lasagne.”

“Lasagne?” He sounded interested.

You finally met his eyes for more than five seconds, feeling a little panicky. “Yeah, my World Famous Italian lasagne.”

Oh no.

Seokjin laughed, dropping your hand to cup your cheek instead. Earlier, if this had happened you would have spontaneously combusted but now you had a case of the Nosey Friend and you couldn’t concentrate to save your life. “Okay, now you’re just talking big.”

You couldn’t help it, your eyes attempting to dart past his shoulder again. He noticed – he’d probably noticed this entire time, an eyebrow of his raising. “What is going on over my shoulder?”

You tried to stop him, clinging to his elbow, but he turned around anyway, eyes falling on Soojung immediately. You saw her instantly panic and jump back, dropping the curtain in front of the window again. “That’s just Soojung,” you sighed. “Ignore her, she’s an idiot.”

Seokjin was deeply amused, laughing as he turned back to you. “So, is next Saturday okay?” You pressed.

He grinned. “Saturday sounds perfect to me.”

As you said your goodbyes, Seokjin turned to the window and gave a small wave, chortling to himself. You couldn’t see Soojung anymore but you just knew she was still spying. But relieved Seokjin didn’t seem fazed, you made your way inside, giving Seokjin a wave by the door as he pulled off, feeling happy, yet a little sad the night was over already. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d enjoyed yourself like that.

It was only when you were inside did you remember what you’d just done, too preoccupied to think properly beforehand. Oh God, the lasagne. Saturday night was going to be a disaster.

Soojung came running into the entry way, interrupting your freak out. “He saw me! He saw me!” Her voice was shrill, and you couldn’t tell if it was because she was embarrassed or excited.

“That’s what happens when you spy, idiot,” you swiped, kicking off your heels. The instant relief brought you no comfort. “Soo, I’ve done something stupid.” You admitted.

She instantly looked worried. “What? What have you done?”

You sighed, already feeling like a fool. “Okay so, I invited him over next weekend and said I’d cook for him.”

“Girl is horny for that D–”

“Shut up, that’s not the problem,” you stopped her. She looked puzzled. “You were distracting me!” It was all her fault. You weren’t taking the blame. “He asked me what I was gonna cook and I told him I make a World Famous Italian lasagne!”

Your best friend was silent for an extended second, making sense of your words before she burst out laughing. Highly dramatic, practically doubled over, splitting her sides. Even more dramatic than you for freaking out over a damn lasagne.

“You have never made lasagne in your entire life!” She exclaimed. “What were you thinking?”

“It was your fault!” It was also her fault you didn’t get to kiss Seokjin properly too. But you weren’t going to bring that up now, unable to bear the constant teasing that would ensue.

“My fault?!” She laughed. You just rolled your eyes. She did not appreciate that at all. “Whatever. I can’t wait to see your “World Famous Italian lasagne.” Make sure to save me some, won’t you?”

“Right,” you huffed. “For that, I’m not telling you how the date went.”

She soon changed her tune, needing all the details just to be able to sleep tonight…

#jin fanfic #bts fanfic #seokjin fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:mls

1K notes · View notes