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my heart....gah dayum im on the edge of my seat! cant wait for the next stories lined up!

Chingu (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: Dilara's best friend stops by for a night, and he and Taehyung have some choice words for each other.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Angst

Word count: 8.6 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: LANGUAGE (Chris Park is here, people), heartbreak, anxiety, infidelity, a very small description of smut

A/N: One of my favourite relationships finally being introduced in depth. This fic takes place around a week after Baby, It's Cold Outside.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @dreaming-with-happiness @ananya1398 @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: "something pretty“ by patrick park

taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

Austria this time of year is better than freezing Germany, especially when everyone arrives for the Styrian GP this time to an unseasonably warm circuit in Spielberg. Dilara hasn’t got a motorhome of her own this time either; she and the rest of the group end up staying at the same house they stayed in for the Austrian GP. Strangely enough, she’s dreading it far less than she was the last time, especially since there’s no PR planned this time around. Plus, since it’s a Red Bull track - the Red Bull track - the team is in high spirits for a good race.

The best part about this weekend, though, for Dilara, is that Chris Park has made it down here for the weekend. He can’t stay for the actual race, which is a pity, but he’s needed back in London by Saturday afternoon for a workshop he’s doing with Fred, and Dilara chooses to humbly count her blessings that at least one of her friends is finally here. 

He arrives on Thursday; she perks up when she hears a motor screeching outside, followed by a very Chris text: Where are you? No need to pretty yourself up for me, Komyshan. 

Too happy to be annoyed, Dilara skips out in jeans, an oversized jumper and boots, bag in one hand and phone in the other. She throws the front door open to the gorgeous winter sun to see Chris in a brown jacket and jeans, leaning against a motorcycle and wearing Aviators that would look ridiculous on anyone but him and Tom Cruise, while he chats with Seokjin, Jungkook and - her heart skips a beat - Taehyung. The latter isn’t really talking, she notices; just standing a little behind the other two members as they make small talk with Chris.

Taehyung is the first to spot her; her stomach does a backflip when his eyes light up and a hint of a smile graces his beautiful features. Right at that moment, though, Chris spots her and his grin widens. Taking off his shades, he holds his arms open and yells “What’s up, Komyshan?” as she runs up to him.

“You’re actually here!” she exclaims, jumping up and hugging him tight, feeling her feet leave the ground as he straightens his tall frame. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy to see you, Park,” she remarks when he sets her down.

“I’ll give it an hour,” he says generously, ruffling her hair as he turns to face the others. “She’s all talk; she can’t really stand me after a while,” he explains to them.

“Sexy jacket, Dilara,” remarks Jungkook, winking.

Dilara chuckles, pretending not to notice how Taehyung frowns and lightly slaps his arm. “Thanks. Learning from Jimin, are we?”

He grins. “No, I just have the same one.”

“I’ll have her home in time for dinner,” says Chris mock-seriously to all of them before bowing slightly. When he catches sight of her amused expression, he shrugs. “What? It’s just respectful to your housemates.”

Already bracing herself for an entire afternoon of this, Dilara rolls her eyes and turns away, her gaze falling on Taehyung. He’s still standing behind the others, looking at her with a strange expression on his face, like nostalgia and something else. 

All three members step back when Chris straddles the bike and she climbs on behind him, sliding her small backpack on.

“Alright, see you in a bit,” calls Chris jovially in Korean, slipping his shades on and backing up the bike.

“Be careful.” Taehyung’s voice unexpectedly cuts through, deep and sudden, and Dilara turns to see him wincing and looking away, as though cursing himself for saying anything.

For some reason, she doesn’t want him to feel embarrassed, not for saying something like that. When he hesitantly looks back at her, she nods. "Yeah," she mutters, before swallowing and placing her hands on Chris's shoulders as they zoom away.

They drive nearly thirty minutes to the outskirts of Salzburg where they find a pub - the first one she’s seen in what feels like forever. They order beers and schnitzel and, enjoying the blues music playing at an appropriate volume, catch up after months.

"You know it's only been like six weeks, right?" he points out. "We saw each other in New York the night before you flew out to Spa."

"That was just one night, though. And it doesn't count," she adds, sipping her beer, "because we were there for Lex, not to catch up."

"True. You were there for the hard part, though, during the surgery," he tells her, reaching for a fry. "Her mom was out of the woods by the time I got there."

"No way," she disagrees. "That time would've been even worse. Her mom was okay but that was when Lex had to deal with all the insurance stuff and the physio and everything. She seemed exhausted."

“Yeah, she was.” Chris sips on his drink quietly for a minute, frowning out the window. “She’s tough, though,” he murmurs, still looking outside, before swallowing and placing his drink on the table, looking up at Dilara. “She’ll be fine.”

She observes him, not fooled. “Something you want to talk about?”

“Not really.”

“Sure? Not everything you say will get back to Lexie.”

“Gee, that’s comforting.”

Dilara cracks a smile, still not swayed. “I’m serious. How is she?”

Chris frowns. “What do you mean? Don’t you talk to her?”

“Of course I do. But she’s my friend. What she tells me wouldn’t be exactly what she tells you.”

“I’m her friend, too.”

“I didn’t have sex with her, though.”

“Minor technicalities.”

“You can avoid this all you want, but don’t expect me to believe that anything about you two is minor.”

Chris glares at her. “Do we have to talk about this?”

Dilara raises her eyebrows and shrugs. “No. Actually, yeah,” she says after a moment. “Why not? I’m not going to judge you, you know? This isn’t a test.”

He pokes his tongue into his cheek and looks away, looking annoyed. “You know I’m not good at this,” he states in a low voice.

She perks up, though she tries not to show it. “Good at what?”

“This stuff. Dealing with feelings and doing the right thing and following all these - these dating rules. And she’s going through a hard time,” he adds, looking down. “She doesn’t need some fuckboy coming into her life and making it worse.”

“First of all, admitting you’re a fuckboy just goes to show that you aren’t one. Or at least, not anymore,” she amends. “And… you know I love you, but that’s such a fucking cop out answer.” It seems for a second as though he’s about to snap at her, but all he does is scoff and look out the window again. 

Dilara tries again. “I’m not saying you need to ask her out right now. Or ever, really. I’m just asking…” She shrugs and sighs, “I dunno. I guess I’m just looking out for her. We both know how she feels about you.”

Chris doesn’t deny it. “I don’t want to fuck around with her either, you know. I know I won’t be good for her. Isn’t it a good thing that I know this?”

“Maybe. But she doesn’t know it. And I don’t even think that’s the real reason. Even fuckboys can become… not-fuckboys,” she points out.

He rolls his eyes. “It won’t work. She’s too…” He exhales, shaking his head “... good, I guess. And we’re friends, man, I… it’ll screw up the whole group. She’s your trainer - won’t it be the worst for you?”

She considers it. “It might be awkward,” she admits, trying not to think about how much awkwardness she’s already dealing with on a daily basis, “but I trust both of you to be adults about it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really? Are you and Taehyung being adults about it?”

Dilara gapes, wondering how he zeroed in on exactly what she was thinking. “I - this is not about me.” When he smirks knowingly, she sighs in annoyance. “V and I are… we’re working around it. We’re… there’s a system… of sorts,” she rambles pathetically. She looks up from her schnitzel to see Chris looking at her with exaggerated wonder.

“I’m sorry, what did you call him?” he asks, chuckling in disbelief. “What happened to Tae?”

“He fucked a skinny idol, so now I call him by the name the rest of the world does,” she snaps.

“You call him V to his face?”

“I don’t talk to him if I can help it,” she says shortly, leaning back as the waitress sets the rest of their food in front of them. “But… I call him Kim to his face, if you must know.”

Chris snorts, shaking his head. “Shit. That’s got to be hard, though,” he allows. “How are you dealing with all of it?”

“Nice segue, but we’re coming back to you and Lexie after this.” Dilara waits for him to silently grin, before taking a deep breath. “I’m… I dunno, I’m taking it one day at a time. While counting down the days until this ends, of course.”

“Really?” He frowns, swallowing a fry whole. “What was “be careful” about, then?”

“That was…” She groans, so frustrated at how complicated this is. “I don’t know. He’s trying to be nice, I guess? But I don’t trust him and I can barely look at him without becoming a goddamn mess and after Max abandoned me in a fan’s wet dream?” She shrugs sarcastically. “I really didn’t have a choice but to start becoming cordial with them.”

“That’s what I thought,” agrees Chris, nodding. “I mean, I’m guessing the older guys would be normal, no? And Namjoon and Hoseok?” he asks, pronouncing their names exactly right.

“Yeah, they’re fine,” she mutters dismissively. “So are Jimin and Jungkook, too, actually. Jungkook’s my only workout buddy now and since friends are in short supply for me right now,” she says deliberately, pushing his shoulder, “I need to swallow my pride and take what I can get. Plus, I spend whatever time I can on the paddock, so…”

“And Taehyung?” he presses.

She swallows. “What about him? I told him to leave me alone and… he kind of is.”

“Kind of, clearly.”

“Yeah, well. Depends on the situation. Sometimes it almost feels like old times, just a bit.” She’s quiet for a moment. “And then I remember how he fucked me over and it all disappears.” She shakes her head and exhales. “You know what? If you don’t think it’ll work out with Lex, I believe you. I was sure it wouldn’t work out for us and I was right, wasn't I?”

Chris gives her a moment, looking at her with a mixture of sympathy and anger, and she has a feeling he’s recalling the first half of the season. “I kind of can’t believe you actually ended up living with them,” he says after a moment. “I mean, what are the chances?”

“I know, right?” She slowly swallows a fry. “The good thing is there actually does seem to be money coming in because the car is fantastic,” she says honestly. “I mean, I don’t know what I was hoping for in Nurburgring but that straight line speed?” She shakes her head as Chris mirrors her reaction. “Red Bull already has amazing downforce but that was a hell of a surprise.”

“Oh, it was incredible,” he agrees. “Think they’ll do the same thing this time? Or was it like a one time thing?”

“I don’t know for sure but I think one of us is getting a new power unit this time,” she confesses. “It’ll most likely be me so I’m not even all that worried about Qualifying. Austria’s a good track in general, though,” she adds, shrugging. “I’m sure I’ll make it to the top six at least.”

Chris grins proudly. “Love the confidence,” he says sincerely. “Does that mean you’re okay drinking tomorrow night?” he asks cheekily.

Dilara laughs. “I can’t get drunk, but, yeah, why not? I haven’t had a drink in ages.”

He claps his hands. “It’s a date.”

As it turns out, it’s not a date. They return back to the pub the next day after FP, only to find it about to close down because of dark, angry rain clouds hovering low in the sky.

“You can order if you like,” the red haired gentleman across the bar says. “Last order, for a Red Bull driver.”

Dilara grins and blushes, letting Chris take the lead and order while she takes a couple of selfies with the owner and a few of the staff members. “Oh, do you think we should take food for your housemates?” Chris asks suddenly.

“Oh.” It hadn’t occurred to her but now that Chris says it, she knows they should. Annoyingly enough, they would do the same for her. Have done the same for her, she remembers. 

“Um, maybe. Let me check.” She pulls out her phone to text Seokjin, since she knows it’s either he or Yoongi who will give her the straightest answer. As she shifts from one foot to another, trying to word the perfect text, Chris just sighs in impatience and snatches the phone from her.

To her horror, he straight up calls him. “Hyung? It’s Chanyeol,” he begins, followed by an intense sounding discussion in Korean. If she has to guess, Jin is asking the others for their opinions and by the way Chris is rattling off an order to the owner, she knows they’re taking it incredibly seriously, as expected.

Midway during the call, Chris sighs and turns to her. “Your boyfriend’s asking if he’s included as well because, quote, he doesn’t want you to feel obligated to get him anything.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” says Dilara forcefully, rolling her eyes at Taehyung’s dramatics, “and tell him he is included, but I’m happy to let him starve if he wants.”

Chris chortles and says something into the phone in Korean, and she hears Jin’s cackle in the background. Once the call is wrapped up, the food is packed, she’s taken at least ten pictures and tipped the pub a hundred euros, they run outside to Chris’s motorcycle just as a rumble of thunder booms through the sky.

They make it back to the house just as the rain starts and hurry inside to see Yoongi, Hoseok and Jimin and Jungkook in the living room and kitchen area, already in tracks and hoodies, looking way warmer than she feels. The moment he sees them, Jungkook follows them to the kitchen like a puppy, diving for the food and inspecting it as soon as they set it down.

“Where are the others?” Dilara asks nonchalantly, reaching for a bottle of water as the older members file in at a more respectable pace. 

“Namjoon’s talking to Kaya and Jin hyung’s probably taking a nap,” says Hoseok, giving Jungkook a disgusted look as he inhales a handful of fries. “And Taehyungie’s in the shower, I think.”

“Shouldn’t you go, too?” Chris asks.

Dilara chokes on her water. “Excuse me?”

He raises his eyebrows as Yoongi grins from where he’s sorting through the food. “I meant… shower. By yourself. Because your hair is wet?” He reminds her, fingering the ends of her ponytail. “You can’t afford to fall sick.”

Still recovering and trying not to picture Taehyung in the shower, joining him in the shower, or showering together, she mumbles something incoherent and bolts, cursing the weather for not being able to take a cold shower. By the time she’s out, feeling much warmer with freshly washed hair and dry, soft woollens, what seems like an army of Korean men are gathered in the kitchen, talking and laughing loudly. 

Suddenly feeling very tiny and very female, she pads over gingerly and emerges quietly between Chris and Yoongi, reaching for a piece of pita bread and dipping it in hummus.

The conversation continues around her, half in Korean and half in English. She doesn’t quite join in, choosing to simply watch and sneak in bites of food, happy to let Chris socialize for both of them. At one point, Hoseok asks them if they want to watch a movie and when Chris looks at her expectantly, she hesitates, somewhat glad that even though he's talking to them, he'll ditch them if she asks him to.

She doesn't, though; Dilara shrugs and says "Sure", trying not to make it too awkward. Nodding, one by one everyone heads out with their plates piled high with food.

"Yeorobun, don't forget to thank Dilara and Chris," calls Seokjin, followed by a chorus of thank yous from the room.

"Thank you," a soft and deep voice echoes from next to her.

Startled, she almost drops the bottle of water she’s holding. Dilara looks up and nods slightly. "You're welcome," she murmurs to Taehyung, suddenly finding it hard to meet his gaze when he's standing this close to her. He smells overwhelmingly of his lotion and her immediate instinct is to want to bury her nose in the sleeve of his sweater and inhale until she passes out. She swallows and tries to distract herself by looking down at his sweater, frowning when she realises it looks familiar.

“Is that -” She catches herself just in time, trying to stop the automatic smile that she can feel creeping up on her face and turning away.

Next to her, she hears him quietly chuckle. “Yeah, it is,” he answers after a moment.

Stay strong, Dilara. 

They stay there, side by side, hesitantly sharing an old memory for a moment until they’re broken out of it by Chris turning around and calling her name, warning her that the schnitzel will get over if she doesn’t come for it soon enough. Grateful for the interruption, she hurries away from the kitchen, ignoring how her heart flutters when her arm brushes Taehyung’s, and takes a seat on one of the side couches next to Jungkook. 

In the middle couch, facing the TV, Chris sits with Hoseok and Namjoon to his left, Yoongi on an armchair in the corner, and on the other side couch directly opposite her, Taehyung walks up to sit between Seokjin and Jimin, a smile still lingering on his face.

It goes back to one of their Zoom calls in December, just after Christmas. It was nothing special; he’d been wearing this sweater, a fluffy white one with brown, red and yellow stripes, looking festive yet casual. Dilara had commented on it, only for him to reply a bit haughtily that it was Gucci, that she needed to have some respect. 

He’d been completely straight-faced as he’d said it, and when he’d brought Yeontan onto his lap, she’d burst out laughing when she’d realised his dog got completely camouflaged in front of the sweater. The rest of the call had just been her teasing him mercilessly about the sweater until he, in a fit of annoyance, announced he was going to bed.

Dilara had apologised all night on text but hadn’t been able to resist squeezing in a joke or two more, to which he’d suddenly responded with a Careful, Lara. The tone had suddenly changed and she’d frowned, heart beating slightly faster, and asked him what for. 

He’d proceeded to list down all the things he knew he could do to her, before calling her on video and commanding her to finger myself, refusing her orgasm until she’d whimpered an apology and felt it crash down on her the next second. He’d watched her finish with half-lidded eyes, breathing heavily himself and it was only then that she realised that he’d been touching himself, too. Not taking his eyes off her possibly fucked out expression, he’d pushed the camera back slightly so she could watch him spill over his own fingers with a loud, throaty grunt. 

It was one of the hottest experiences of her life, especially given how physically far apart they were then. Ironically, when she was falling asleep later after a sweet, affectionate goodnight from him, she’d been relieved that they were clearly able to keep their sex life somewhat active even if they weren’t together. Now, when she sneaks another glance at him, she sees him looking right at her with that same nostalgic expression, biting his lip.

The others are discussing what movie to watch, switching to English. Hoseok immediately suggests an English movie since Dilara is present and everyone else agrees even as she shakes her head, but Chris, ever her extroverted saviour, speaks up.

“Oh, we can watch a Korean movie,” he says, almost like it’s obvious. “I’m teaching her. Although she should stick to driving, though,” he quips.

The boys burst into laughter and she feels her cheeks get hot, still grateful at his attempts to keep the mood light. Taking care to avoid their eyes, she shakes her head at Chris who simply grins at her. “Korean is fine,” she finally agrees, giving him a look. “I can read subtitles.”

A discussion begins on which movie, with everyone including Chris pitching in. Across from her, Taehyung and Jimin are talking to each other with Jungkook beside her pitching in. All the talk is in Korean but she’s just focused on Taehyung laughing, his boxy smile and bashful expression as Jin makes some kind of comment, and suddenly feels the urge to cuddle with him. She knows it’s ridiculous, but she allows herself the fantasy for a moment: the fluffy sweater, his warm hands, the long blond hair tickling her cheek, his deep voice snickering in her ear.

It’s pointless, though, she reminds herself as she tears her eyes away from him. It’s not going to happen and it shouldn’t either. Maybe it’s the sweater. Maybe once he takes it off and goes back to his regular joggers and t-shirts and shorts and jeans and coats, he’ll… well, he’ll still look fantastic but hopefully, her cuddling urges won’t resurface.

The sound of her name brings Dilara out of her reverie. “Dilara hates horror movies,” declares Chris, turning to her. “We should definitely watch one.”

She flips him off while some of the guys snicker. “I don’t hate them,” she says defensively, pulling her hoodie tighter around her shoulders. “I watch them all the time, I just… think they’re a bit thin on plot, that’s all.”

Chris snorts. “In all the time that I’ve known you, you’ve never watched a horror movie unless you’ve been massively outvoted,” he points out, annoyingly correct. “That’s two - no, three years, Komyshan.”

“You’ve known each other only three years?” Hoseok asks, frowning in surprise. “You act like you’ve known each other forever.”

“I’m her best friend,” states Chris, shrugging. There’s something strange about the way he says it; he doesn't say she's my best friend, the way someone normally would. He's establishing his place in her life, as though he’s reminding everyone… or one person, if the way his eyes flicker to Taehyung is any indication.

“After Lexie, of course,” she pipes up, sarcastically blowing him a kiss when he narrows his eyes at her.

“How did you two meet?” Jungkook asks.

“Technically?” Chris dusts his hands on his jeans and cocks his head over to me. “I hit on her at a pub in London and she said no. The next day, Lexie brought her to my studio.”

“Seriously, what are the odds?” Dilara mutters, still mortified at the memory. “And you didn’t hit on me, you offered to buy me a drink. And I said no because I was scheduled on the SIM the next morning.”

“You hit on her?” Jin gives her an appraising look, apparently ignoring her caveat entirely. “You really have a thing for Korean guys, huh?” When Namjoon rolls his eyes and nudges him, he widens his eyes. “No, not in a bad way! Just… I mean, that’s two guys in this room who’ve hit on you, no?”

Dilara tentatively glances at Taehyung, hugely relieved for some reason to see him fighting a hint of a smile before catching her eye. His gaze, presumably at remembering how and when he hit on me, is too intense and she has to look away to the member on his left. “Three if you count Jimin,” she quips, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

Jimin guffaws, two pink spots appearing on his cheeks. “No, no, it’s not the same,” he denies vigorously, throwing an arm around Taehyung’s shoulders and being, in Dilara’s opinion, transparent as fuck.

“Well, you’ve certainly hooked up with two people in this room,” says Chris nonchalantly.

It takes her a moment to register what he’s said. “That was during spin the bottle,” she says quickly, glaring at Chris, “and it doesn’t count. Or Lexie would’ve killed me,” she adds deliberately.

Chris shrugs, apparently conceding, but the damage is done. Dilara’s eyes dart towards Taehyung. All hints of smiles have left his face and he's staring at Chris. All of a sudden, he looks at her, expression unreadable, before poking his tongue through his cheek and looking down at his lap. 

She’s extremely annoyed; at Chris for bringing it up, at Taehyung for having the nerve to have any kind of reaction, and herself for actually caring what her ex-boyfriend thinks.

Thankfully the conversation moves away from this hideously uncomfortable topic to something else, still half in Korean and half in English. Apparently they've finally decided on a movie because there's some verbal scuffle between Hoseok, Namjoon, Jin and Chris, while Yoongi dryly comments upon something. 

Dilara tries not to notice how little the others are participating; it's an uncomfortable feeling of anticipation, like she’s waiting for something else to go wrong.

"Dilara, catch!" True to form, she just about sees Hoseok throwing something to her and she reflexively catches it, to a chorus of hoots from around the room.

"Daebak," says Jungkook from next to her, looking at me in awe.

She grins. "Thanks."

"Uh-uh," pipes up Chris, and she knows right before he speaks what this is about, "In Korean, please."

She rolls her eyes at his stern tone. "Not now, Chris."

"Oh, come on, that's how you practice," he says easily, leaning over the arm of the couch and nudging her elbow. "Come on, try it."

"I'm not going to speak Korean right now," she mutters, feeling her face heat up.

"Who better to speak it in front of?" He spreads his arms and gestures to the room.

"I've actually never heard you speak Korean," says Jimin, looking interested. "Except that one time in Yeongam."

Dilara doesn't respond, mostly because she’s just realised that most of the Korean she ever spoke around the group, she spoke around Taehyung only, given how conscious she’s always been. Her eyes meet his again for a moment and she sees him frown slightly before she looks away.

Meanwhile, Chris is still on his mission to make her embarrass herself in front of everyone. "Go on, come on, you need to practice…"

"Not gonna happen."

"Just once, Komyshan, come on," he keeps going, being unusually persistent.

Dilara frowns. "Chris, let it go," she hisses, starting to feel hassled.

"Dude, just one -"

"She said no."

Everyone's eyes, including Dilara’s, immediately snap to Taehyung, who's looking at Chris with a hardened jaw and steely gaze. For a moment, she acknowledges how all thoughts of cuddling him are out the window, but then she turns to look at Chris with a mixture of slight apology and mostly exasperation, like he'd asked for it.

Chris pauses, observing Taehyung, as though he hadn't quite realised how aggressive he was being. Then he turns to her slowly and the amusement in his eyes gives her a Very Bad Feeling. "Sorry, Lara," he says clearly, almost taunting.

Dilara wants to throw something at him; it's never been explicitly stated, but no one calls her Lara, no one apart from Taehyung. They may not be together anymore and she may have forbidden him from calling her that… but hearing someone else use that endearment  makes her want to throw up.

She notices a movement from the corner of her eye and shifts slightly to see Jimin tugging on Taehyung's sleeve, as though to prevent him from moving from where he's seated. He doesn't look at her and for once, she wishes he would.

Someone clears his throat and Dilara looks up to see Yoongi looking between Chris and Taehyung with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Um… what movie did we decide on finally?" 

Hoseok seems to snap out of it as well, immediately naming some movie and thankfully, the tension is broken. She rolls her eyes at Chris and looks away, determined to chew him out later for this. From the glimpse she caught of his face, he doesn't look apologetic or abashed at all. If anything, although his smirk has disappeared, he looks satisfied at the reaction he's gotten - from Taehyung.

There's some more chatter, more hesitant than before and mostly led by Hoseok and Seokjin. It's a mix of English and Korean again and finally, the movie begins. 

"Do we have popcorn?" Jimin asks suddenly, turning to look towards the kitchen as though expecting a bowl to fly over to him.

"There's some in one of the cabinets, I think," she answers, glad to be talking to anyone but Chris or Taehyung. "I can make it in the microwave if you want," she offers, already standing up.

"No, no, you can't miss the beginning of the movie," says Jungkook, tugging on her sleeve and grinning up at her. "It's scary, but not that scary."

Dilara mock-glares at him and moves to flick him on the forehead while Chris frowns. "You hate popcorn," he states.

"I don't hate it," she points out lightly, "and it'll only take a minute."

"You need the subtitles more than anyone else, though."

"I'm sure one minute won't make a huge difference," she argues through gritted teeth, wondering what his problem is.

"You know, she can make her own decisions," comes Taehyung's voice from the other side, loudly.

Not again, she wants to groan, and flops back down on the couch, shrugging at Jimin silently as if to say I tried. He grimaces and nods, just as Chris responds.

"I know. I also know that she hates not knowing what's going on in a movie and then keeps talking through it," he states, ignoring her when she makes a noise of disbelief at him.

"So let her," snaps Taehyung, and Dilara knows it's because he's taken it at least a little personally, since talking through movies is something he does, too; something they used to do together, commenting on everything from dialogue to scenery to costumes.

"What? It doesn't annoy you?" Chris asks, raising his eyebrows, as though daring him to admit it.

"It doesn't. Like I said, she can make her own decisions."

Chris bites his lip for a moment, as though reconsidering his response, before apparently deciding to do so. To Dilara’s horror, keeping a steely gaze on Taehyung, he replies in Korean. She doesn't understand it, obviously, but she notices everyone frown slightly, like they're not quite sure what he's said. Namjoon is the first to close his eyes and deflate slightly, like he's internally sighing, and she has an inkling of what Chris is at least referring to.

Across the room, Taehyung looks like a statue as he glares at Chris. He asks something, tone abrupt, to which Chris shrugs and responds. It carries on like this, a conversation in Korean between Dilara’s ex-boyfriend and one of her best friends, a loaded and precarious conversation where neither of them seemingly wants to cross the line from riffing to arguing, but still seem seconds away from whipping out their dicks.

She only manages to catch a few words here and there, including her name a couple of times, but other than that, she’s lost. It’s extremely frustrating, this handicap, being the only one unable to understand a conversation of which she is the subject, especially when she notices the expressions of the other spectators, becoming more and more still, as though expecting something - or someone - to explode. 

Dilara looks at Taehyung, silently willing him to stop… although she supposes she should want Chris to be the one to stop it just as much. She hadn't seen this coming; she knows Taehyung has a tendency to get territorial and she’s not dense enough to not notice how he feels about her, much as she might try to ignore it. 

She also knows that Chris is a good friend, one of the best, but has a tendency to be a complete jerk if he puts his mind to it. He can be insensitive and direct and say just the right thing to get under her skin; usually he does it to get her to face her anxiety, using tough love in a way that only he can make work. It doesn’t now, though. For a moment, her mind goes to Lexie and his conviction that he wouldn't be good for her. At this moment, Dilara agrees with him.

Her heart is racing now, the anxiety at not knowing what the fuck is going on eating away at her. She swallows, willing Taehyung to at least look at her. He doesn't, though; his attention is solely focused on Chris, even when he haughtily looks away as though the conversation isn't worth his time. 

Suddenly, Taehyung’s eyes snap to her and she almost flinches, not expecting it. His eyes flicker with emotion and he swallows, and it looks like he wants to say something. Even though he’s notoriously hard to read, right now the regret and guilt in his face is obvious as day, at least to her. She doesn’t know what Chris said to get this reaction out of him, but she finds she doesn’t really care at this moment. She just wants to reach for him.

However, before Dilara can structure any further coherent thoughts, Taehyung’s gaze falls and he murmurs something. She doesn’t understand it, but it’s clear that it’s a closure to the conversation, especially when Namjoon clears his throat and points to the TV, apparently not realising he’s speaking in Korean. 

As the movie resumes, she looks over at Chris to see him staring at Taehyung, all traces of humour and playfulness gone. It’s not anger, exactly… it’s the face he gives her every time she’s on the verge of giving up in the gym or every time she starts talking herself down before a race.

There are no more interruptions for the rest of the night. Dilara can’t believe how angry she is at both of them for this, especially when they started talking about her like she wasn’t even there. Chris started it, Taehyung enabled it and now, she just wants to be away from both of them.

Dilara tries to concentrate on the movie, whispering only once in a while to Jungkook beside her when the subtitles move too fast or there’s a reference she doesn’t get, nodding when he answers immediately. For once, she’s glad he hasn’t ever tried to broach this topic with her. She ends up resting her head on his shoulder as they watch, but still only half-concentrating.

She can’t get Taehyung’s face out of her mind. She remembers all the times she’s talked to him since they got here: in Spa, Monza, Imola, even last week in Germany, not to mention his many attempts at trying to talk to her before she told him categorically to leave her alone. She’d seen him in various states of guilt and devastation, but right now he looked… resigned. Fear grips at her heart when she thinks about it, but she can’t immediately figure out why.

She has to know what they were talking about. She has to. She pulls out her phone and contemplates texting Chris, but she’s too angry to talk to him right now. Who else? Namjoon? She’s opened up to him enough before. Jimin? No, he looks far too uncomfortable. Yoongi? They’ve recently connected a bit and she at least has faith that he’ll be as direct as possible. 

Shaking her head, Dilara finally texts the one person she actually wants to talk to right now.

What did he say to you?

She watches Taehyung as he glances at his phone, how he stares at the screen with his thumbs hovering over it, how he doesn’t so much as look up at her even once. After almost a minute, he types out a reply.

Nothing I don’t already know.

—

An hour and a half later, Dilara enters her room with Chris right behind her. Taking off her hoodie and throwing it to the desk with more force than she intended, she turns to face him. “What the hell was that?”

“A very average movie,” he says casually, taking off his own jacket and throwing it on top of hers.

“Don’t fuck with me, Park.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh, are you talking about the heart to heart I had with your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she says through gritted teeth, “and whatever that was, it definitely wasn’t a heart to heart.”

“You don’t need to worry about it,” he says dismissively, walking past her towards the bathroom.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me. Chris!” 

He turns on the light and looks back at her for a moment. “Should’ve paid more attention when I tried to teach you Korean, Lara.”

“Suck my dick, Park.”

Chris gives her a hollow smirk before turning and shutting the door behind him. 

Dilara could hit him. She really could. It’s almost as though he’s enjoying getting a rise out of her, just like he’d taunted Taehyung with whatever he’d said that made him look like he was about to cry. 

Nothing I don’t already know… She hasn’t the faintest what it means. She’s not even sure she wants to find out. Outside, a rumble of thunder crashes and she exhales in frustration when she realises that tomorrow might just be a wet Qualifying.

Chris was meant to go back to his hotel tonight, returning the rented motorcycle to the staff and checking out first thing in the morning before flying back to London. But the rain had started lashing down towards the end of the movie and by the time it was done, the visibility was so bad that they couldn’t even see his bike parked in the front yard.

Naturally, he was staying with Dilara, no matter how pissed off she was. When everyone had stood up to head inside, he’d half-smirked and asked how comfortable the couch was. Too annoyed to speak to him and just done with the excessive testosterone, she’d simply bit back a retort and pulled him into her room by the hand.

Now, Chris comes out of the bathroom and starts unbuttoning his jeans, changing into a pair of sweatpants lent to him by Namjoon, the only member as tall as him. Dilara stares at him, not backing down. Finally, he huffs. “Okay, what?”

Her eyes widen. “What do you mean what? How about we start with why you were so rude?”

“Rude to who? Your ex?” he questions immediately. “Do you really care about his feelings now?”

“I - I meant… to everyone. We were trying to watch a movie and you made it into some fucking drama about two people and their stupid love life.”

“We’d watched literally two minutes of the movie till then. Also,” he continues, “I’m pretty sure I did everyone a favour because that movie sucked.”

“Damn it, Chris!” she exclaims. “It was so embarrassing!”

“Look, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, alright? But let’s be real. If this was Lexie here instead of me and she blew up at him while defending you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Glaring at her, he rips the covers off the bed with force.

Dilara swallows, not expecting the conversation to take this turn. “That’s not - that’s not true. If she’d said… she doesn’t even speak -”

“Does he have any idea what you were like during those weeks after you broke up?” he interrupts. “How he broke you? Do you even remember what you were like then?”

She feels a lump forming in her throat. “Yeah, I think I have a pretty good fucking idea how I was, Chris.”

“Good. Because you were a wreck, Dilara,” he states, but it doesn’t sound insulting. He’s trying to remind her. “Does he know you were on the verge of tears for weeks? That we literally didn’t see you smile for nearly a month? How you overdid it in the gym, how you skipped every boxing session we planned, how your anxiety doubled every time you got in the car because you’d fucked up Melbourne - because of him? Does he know,” he continues, and his voice cracks just a little, “how he shattered your confidence at the bloody start of a season?”

The only sound is from the rain outside. 

“Please tell me you didn’t tell him all that,” she says quietly, her voice hoarse and unsteady.

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?” Chris looks just a little disappointed. “I’m your friend. You think I wanted to see you like that? You think any of us did? Why shouldn’t he know?”

She opens her mouth to argue but nothing comes out. She remembers, despite herself, how alone she’d felt here, how ganged up on she’d felt when all six of them stuck up for Taehyung after the VMAs, how all six of them lied to her this spring, and how all six of them have systematically broken down the wall she built this year to the point where she’s fighting with Chris because he made her ex, the man who broke her heart, feel bad.

When Dilara doesn’t say anything, Chris rolls his eyes and holds his hands up, like he’s giving up. “Whatever. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow morning.”

She sighs, watching him turn around and head to the mirror, checking out his hair. “Come on, don’t act like I’m trying to get rid of you,” she tells him in a small voice, feeling distinctly ungrateful all of a sudden. “This is the happiest I’ve been since August. And only part of it has to do with the schnitzel.”

He gives a half-hearted chuckle but doesn’t reply. 

“Thank you,” she says after a moment, “for standing up for me. In your own weird, fucked up way. It’s a very best friend thing to do.”

“You’re welcome.” He finally turns and heads straight for the bed, tucking himself in. “Don’t let Lexie hear you say that, though.”

“She’ll deal.” They look at each other for a moment, silently apprising the other. “I just… don’t like conflict. You know that.”

“I do. Doesn’t matter to me.” He shrugs. “You know we’ll always stick up for you. Just like we did with that creepy journalist at Sky.”

Shuddering at the memory, she gets into bed as well. “Jerk. Still,” she adds, nudging his shoulder, “a very best friend thing to do.”

“Go to sleep, Komyshan. You have a race tomorrow.”

Smiling to herself, she turns to her side, facing away from him and closing her eyes. It’s a few more minutes before one of them speaks.

“I hooked up with Maria from Mercedes.”

Dilara’s eyes snap open and she frowns Maria from Mercedes… “Social media manager, skinny jeans, always had the hots for you, Maria?” She can tell from his silence that she’s right. “What… when?”

“In Bahrain. Right after we got back from Australia.” 

By we he means him and Lexie and by Bahrain he means… about a week after Dilara saw the article about Taehyung and Jennie. She swallows, shocked into silence.

“Lexie knows,” he says, answering her silent question. “She… she caught us, actually.” He sighs shakily. “Australia was… it was too much. I was getting in too deep and it freaked me out and I - I really fucked up.” 

Dilara doesn’t know whether to be furious or have sympathy for him. “Did it help?” she asks after a moment.

There’s a long pause before he speaks again, voice smaller than ever. “No. So, believe it or not… I can relate to Taehyung better than you think. He should know what he did to you.”

She bites her lip, not knowing which is worse: having to remember what he really did to her, remembering his face earlier this evening, thinking about what Lexie was going through when she found out, how she didn’t tell Dilara because she obviously didn’t want to burden her… or Chris, sounding more vulnerable than she’s ever known him to be.

“It’s killing him, Komyshan,” he says quietly, so soft that she can barely hear him over the rain. She doesn't know if he’s talking about Taehyung or himself. “Knowing what he did and not knowing how to make it right? It’s killing him.”

---

Dilara wakes up the next morning to an apologetic looking sun streaming in from the window. A small, hopeful smile makes its way onto her face. Dry race. She turns to see the other side of the bed empty, frowning when she  realises Chris must have left already. She reaches for her phone to see a text from him.

Leaving now. Tried to wake you up but you almost punched me in the face. Good luck for today and DO NOT let Ricciardo psych you out about anything.

She rolls her eyes, certain he must be exaggerating. The time stamp on the message is from a minute ago, though; frowning, she gets out of bed, hoping she can catch him before he leaves. When she reaches her bedroom door, however, she hears voices. Two voices; she opens the door slightly, quietly, breath catching in her throat when she hears Taehyung and Chris.

They’re speaking in Korean, so naturally she can’t understand a word. They’re also talking softly, sounding much more amiable than last night. Hesitating, she opens the door slightly wider and peers out. From her bedroom in the hallway, she can see just the edge of the kitchen island. 

She spots Chris leaning against it, facing in her direction, dressed comfortably in all black with his sunglasses tucked down the front of his t-shirt. There’s a white ceramic bowl with a spoon in it in front of him. His face looks serious, nothing like the troublemaking jerk last night. 

Dilara can hear Taehyung, his voice low and deep, sounding almost tired. There’s some clinking; she pictures him making his way through the kitchen, looking for cereal or something. The fridge opens and closes, and then she sees him come slightly into view, wearing his printed Ralph Lauren pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt on top. His messy blond hair brushes the back of his t-shirt, falling into his eyes when he turns his head slightly.

She doesn’t know what they’re talking about and she doesn’t want to. It’s Qualifying day; she can’t focus on this. She shuts the door and heads into the bathroom, getting ready for the day. She wishes Chris was staying today; it always helps to have someone cheer you on and talk you up while you stretch before a race. In an incredibly sweet gesture, Hoseok had offered earlier this week to accompany her if she wanted, but Namjoon had immediately yet apologetically reminded him that he couldn’t just hang out with her that publicly - and definitely not in her changing room.

Dilara waits to hear the front door open and close, followed by another door opening and closing, meaning Taehyung has departed to his room as well. She emerges then, heading to the empty kitchen and trying not to think about yesterday at all. She spots the jar of muesli stacked high up in a cabinet. Sighing, she tries to reach for it before preparing to hop onto the countertop. Just as she’s about to hoist herself up, a hand appears from behind her and brings down the jar. 

She turns to see Taehyung appear on her other side, giving her a silent glance of acknowledgement before sorting through the bowl of fruit. Behind him, she sees the pantry door ajar. Slowly assembling her cereal, she wonders if it’s a good idea to reveal that she knows he and Chris talked this morning, or even that she knows what they argued about last night. 

Their fingers brush lightly, so lightly that she thinks she may have imagined it. She lowers her head a bit so her hair falls down her shoulders, shielding her face from view. 

There’s something oddly comforting about standing next to him. It’s confusing, because if anything, it should be worse after last night. She can’t put her finger on it exactly, but she knows it’s familiar, so incredibly familiar that it tugs at her heartstrings in a way that makes her want to crumble. 

She’s felt this before, all the way since the beginning, since the weekend they met and she immediately trusted him with everything she had. When their shoulders brush, she feels him pause next to her.

“Did you sleep with him?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

A few weeks ago, Dilara wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. She wouldn’t have cared how off base he was; she would’ve lied through her teeth as nonchalantly as possible before walking away from him, savagely enjoying how much he’d hate it. 

But she can’t do that now. Try as she might, she can’t find that part of her that wants to hurt him that badly. Not when he’s taken the risk to ask her something like this, something he knows he has no right to ask, to get an answer he most likely doesn’t want. Not when he sounds like this, like he’s on the verge of giving up.

Dilara bites her lip, suddenly overcome with emotion for her ex. His face from last night haunts her, and his text sends a pang of pity through her heart. It’s killing him. It sounds like it, too. There’s no jealousy, no possessiveness to his question, only desperation tending towards resignation. 

Despite Chris’s anger for her last night, she knows that if she lies to Taehyung right now, it’ll shatter him. She glances at where their hands are on the counter, a hair’s breadth away from touching. Hearing his unsteady breathing from next to her, she decides she’s punished him enough.

“No,” she answers quietly.

From the corner of her eye, she sees him nod once before turning to walk past her inside. Without thinking, she grabs his wrist to stop him. He halts and even though this wasn’t planned, she knows it’s absolutely what she wants to do right now. 

She takes a step to her right so that she’s standing right in front of him, her heart beating so fast it hurts. She hesitates for a moment, reaching for the bottom of his white t-shirt, gripping the fabric between her fingertips. Then, with a sudden calm she wasn’t expecting, she reaches forward and wraps her arms around his waist, resting her forehead against his shoulder.

Taehyung freezes, like she suspected he would. But she stays there, moving forward slightly so their torsos press against each other, a small warmth in the dawn of an Austrian winter. She can hear his heart racing and she tightens her arms around him a bit, letting him know it’s not a mistake. 

Slowly, he lifts his arms from his sides and brings them up to her back, touching her so gently as if she might break. It takes him a few more seconds to properly envelope her and when he does, it feels like a piece has fallen into place.

With his lean torso in her grasp, his steady arms around her, she knows it’s a result of last night, where It wasn’t just Chris who defended her against Taehyung, but Taehyung who defended her against Chris, too. He didn’t have to; it wasn’t even his place, but he did it anyway. As she feels him lower his head onto her shoulder and feel his cheek press against the side of her head, his arms tightening around her, she realises she feels safe. 

Dilara presses her forehead into his broad shoulder and inhales slightly, tears springing to her eyes at the familiar scent of lotion. Taehyung turns his head slightly to bury his face in her neck, one hand firm around her back and the other cradling her head, fingertips soft in her hair. She thinks she feels him shake slightly and she hugs him tighter, opening her loose fists and letting her fingers and palms gently touch his back. He inhales shakily, long hair brushing the skin of her neck. 

They break apart when someone enters the kitchen. Both of them are jerked out of it but they don’t jump away from each other, instead slowly separating one body part after another, no longer embarrassed in front of anyone else. With her shoulder still pressed against his chest, she turns to see Namjoon and Hoseok looking awkward and sheepish, muttering incoherently about coming back later and whatnot, but she knows the moment’s over. So she shakes her head and gives them an awkward wave, telling them she needs to be at the track anyway. 

She doesn’t look at Taehyung again but as she leaves, she feels his hand drop from around her waist, where she didn’t even realise it was resting.

—

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

tae x dilara update yipeee !!!!

So Many Signs (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: Dilara tries to ignore the obvious, while Taehyung finally loses his cool.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 13 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, sexism, mention of assault, infidelity, longing, heartbreak

A/N: I didn’t think I’d be posting this so soon but I do want to reach a certain point in their story before I continue posting for other members. This one’s long, but I hope you like it! It takes place about a week after Chingu.

This is also a submission for the 2023 K-Pop Fanfic Bingo Event “The Sound of Music”, using the square with one of my favourite childhood songs, Moon Glow by Benny Goodman.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @dreaming-with-happiness @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: “moon glow” by benny goodman

It’s close to the end of the calendar once the Portuguese GP rolls around. It seems to have awoken both PR teams as well, for the schedule suddenly tightens up and two photoshoots, one advertisement and a Run episode filming are all squeezed into a single week.

The first of the photoshoots takes place in a nice, leafy garden in the outskirts of Portimao, rented for the entire day for the shoot. For once, the participants from the F1 side of things nearly match the BTS members in number, with not just the Red Bull drivers there, but also the AlphaTauri ones, along with Max’s girlfriend Kelly accompanying them.

Maybe it’s the peace of the outdoors; maybe it’s the fact that on the plane ride over, Dilara had a front row seat to the view of Taehyung sleeping as he hugged a pillow. Either way, for the first time in forever, Dilara realises she isn’t counting down the minutes until the shoot is over.

The next day, the Thursday before the race weekend, the same day BTS is meant to join as well, she goes for an early morning run at the paddock before her own team PR begins for the day. A Run episode is meant to be filmed on the circuit and wrap up before the other drivers arrive, and Dilara watches as the crew sets up at top speed, even before the members arrive.

After her run, she’s getting a glass of water in the Red Bull enclosure when she feels someone come up behind her. When she turns, she almost spills the water on herself when she sees maybe three inches of distance between her and Jaden Park.

“Shit!” she mutters, taking a step back right into the water cooler. Jaden grabs her arm to steady her and, when she tries to take it back, doesn’t let go for a moment. Dilara’s heart skips a beat but then he drops her arm and sort of forces a smile onto his face.

It does nothing to comfort her, and she suddenly wishes more than ever that Chris or Fred were here. “Hi - hi… Jaden,” she stammers, taking a deep breath to slow her heart.

“Hey.” Jaden shoves his hands into his pockets. “I, um… I saw you last night.”

“Excuse me?”

“At Albert’s Bar?” He nods, assuming her acknowledgment. “You were with BTS, right?”

Fuck. Aside from the fact that she had stepped out for drinks with her housemates the previous night that now seems to have been seen by people, she thinks she can predict what Jaden’s line of thinking is with this. 

“Um… yeah, Max and all of us did a photoshoot with them yesterday, so we went out for a drink after,” she tells him, pleasantly surprised at how normal she sounds.

“That’s nice. Feel up to going again?” He cocks one eyebrow and gives her a small smile.

Unsurprised and unimpressed, she exhales. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jaden,” she says firmly, not in the mood to try and let him down easy. She moves to walk past him but he blocks her way. Heart hammering, she looks up at him, slightly incredulous. “What are you doing?”

“So you can have a drink with seven guys but not one with me?” he asks, that strange frown still on his face.

Dilara scoffs. “I wasn’t having a drink with seven guys, I went out for drinks with a few colleagues,” she clarifies through gritted teeth, part of her wondering why she’s even giving this guy an explanation. “It wasn’t a date.”

“You really made up your mind about me after one date?” he demands, frowning. “It's… I mean, you're free to reject me if you don't like me but…" He shrugs, "... this just seems unfair."

She raises her eyebrows. "Listen, Jaden," she continues quickly, now reaching the end of her fuse, "I told you, alright? It's nothing to do with you. I'm just not dating. And I'd really appreciate it if we didn't have this conversation again." She moves to walk away again and, yet again, he steps in front of her. 

"Then what is it? The least you can do is give me an explanation, Dilara." He's dropped all pretense of politeness, practically glaring at her now.

She stares at him, contemplating. There's a hundred things she can rip into this guy regarding his behaviour, but she knows there's only one thing that will work with a guy like him - she hopes. 

"Look, I…" Dilara exhales, heavily resenting that she has to do this, "when you asked me out, I'd just got out of a relationship, okay? It was complicated and - and I was still working my way through it. There’s - there’s another guy," she clarifies, disgusted yet unsurprised at the sudden understanding on his face. 

"So… I was, what? A rebound?"

"No," she says immediately, sensing a bruised ego. "I didn't realise I was still… not over it until we went out. And I didn't want to lead you on any further," she explains, suddenly realising she’s not totally lying.

"Right." Jaden nods, jaw clenched. "And, uh… this guy. Your ex. Is he here? Is he in F1?"

It's a complicated answer, but Dilara is out of patience with him. "I don't think that's important," she says hastily, wanting to shut down whatever man-to-man ape nonsense is going on in his head at the earliest. "And, uh… yeah. So I think we can just put this behind us now? And be colleagues? Great," she says in one quick breath, and without waiting for him to respond, she sidles away, letting out a breath she didn't even know she was holding.

It rankles Dilara all day, how entitled some men are and how only the mention of another man can get them to back down. She takes it out on all the men around her, refusing to pass Max a bottle of water when he asks, and later in the afternoon, sniping at a reporter for asking her how she manages her personal life. She knows she’s not a good person to be around right now so when she goes back to the house, she heads straight away to the home gym to work out some of her frustrations before she snaps at someone else.

It works; she over indexes on the weights and barbells, working up a good sweat. She loses track of time, too; when she glances out of the window towards the end of her session, the sky is a dark indigo, almost black, and she feels a light and cool breeze blowing in, feeling incredible against her damp skin.

She runs into Jimin as she’s leaving, who offers her a can of beer and a smile.

“It’s a race weekend,” she says in explanation, her hands still in her pockets.

“You drank last night,” he points out. 

“Exactly. I think I maxed out my quota of booze for the week. Especially booze with this many calories,” she adds, tapping the can and moving to walk past him.

“No worries,” he says easily, falling into step beside her. The walk to the house is a few minutes away; Jimin manages to keep the silence going for about half a minute before speaking again.

“I don’t mean to… what’s the word? Pry?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I don’t mean to pry, but… you and Taehyung seemed to be getting along well yesterday.” 

Dilara looks up after a moment, surprised to see how hopeful his smile is. “Was that a question?” she asks after a moment.

“Um…” He looks mildly confused for a second. “Not really. It was nice, that’s all.”

She nods, not knowing what else to say. The last thing she wants is to mislead anyone - especially when she has no idea what she wants herself.

“Does that mean you’re…” Jimin trails off but when Dilara doesn’t respond, he sighs uncomfortably. “Do you think you might… I mean, will you two be okay?”

Deliberately not looking up at him, she responds carefully. “What does okay mean?”

“Just…” The leaves under their feet crunch in the silence. “Will you go back to normal?”

They’ve almost reached the house. She stops in her tracks a few feet away from the porch. “And by normal you mean… before we broke up?”

Jimin doesn’t say anything for a moment, and it’s apparent he’s already regretting bringing it up. “Maybe? It’s just… I mean, what more needs to happen? He can’t take it back, you know… what he did.”

“I do know,” she says forcefully. “And, yeah, a lot more needs to happen. Starting with him having this conversation himself,” she mutters, starting to walk away when he pulls her back. Startled at the second time today, she jerks back.

“S-sorry. Just… God, please don’t tell him about this,” he begs, eyes wide. “He’ll kill me.”

“Then why are you? Is he that miserable to be around?”

“Oh, yeah.” A brief smile flashes across his face before it fades. “But it’s not just him, okay? When I said it was nice seeing you together yesterday… I mean it was nice to see you like that, too.” His gaze falls slightly. “I think we’re friends, too, right?”

Dilara frowns, for she hasn’t the faintest where this conversation is going. “I - sure. But if you’re asking me if us having a conversation yesterday without breaking down means we’re going to get back together… then I don’t know what to tell you.”

Jimin sighs and nods. “I know it doesn’t. But… I don’t know, are you waiting for something?”

There’s something about that question that makes her bristle. “Waiting for something? Like I’m just sitting here, waiting for him to prove himself and pass some test so I can take him back? Do you think I’m having fun or something?”

“That’s not what I -”

“Because the answer is no, Jimin. No, I am not waiting for anything. I waited enough, alright?” she reminds him. “I waited a long time for him to say something before I blocked him and made sure he never could. All I’m doing right now is just… I’m just trying to not be so angry anymore. Because it’s not helping anyone.”

She starts walking backwards towards the house as Jimin processes this response, hoping he gets it. Just as she’s about to turn, he looks up.

“I’m sorry, Dilara. I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

“I’m not angry. That’s my whole point.”

He raises his eyebrows but thankfully lets it go. “Fine. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”

Dilara nods. “I’m not waiting for anything,” she repeats after a moment, a little calmer. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not… hoping for something.”

Jimin frowns. “Like what?”

She bites her lip before sighing. “Like - like a sign. Maybe. This is not an easy decision - not least because I don’t even know what he wants. It’s -” But she’s interrupted by his scoff.

“Come on, I’m sure even Max Verstappen knows what Taehyung wants,” he tells her, laughing softly.

Dilara narrows her eyes. “I wouldn’t take his word about this. He’s too complicated for me to guess.”

“Max?”

“No, T- you’re… V,” she stutters, rolling her eyes at the blatant slip. “He can’t just waltz back into my life because a PR plan forced me to let him back in.” She starts walking backwards again, careful not to miss the steps on the porch. “That’s what’s always happened. He’s just had to sit back and everything has fallen into place for him. I need an indication, at least, that it’s different this time. I don’t know what that is, I don’t know what it’ll look like… but I need -”

“A sign.” Jimin nods, looking at least somewhat as though he understands what she means. “I get it.”

“Good.” Hoping the conversation ends here, she turns on the spot and opens the door, almost getting a heart attack when she sees Taehyung standing there and pulling on a jacket.

“What - How did you -”

“Gwaenchanha?”

It takes her a moment to be able to answer as she catches her breath. “No, not really,” she gasps, wondering if all the men on the planet have planned to constantly startle her wherever she is. “I - were you standing here this whole time?”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows. A lock of blond hair falls elegantly onto his forehead, the rest of his face absolutely still. “What do you mean?”

Dilara stares at him, suddenly mortified at the thought of him overhearing her talk to Jimin about this, or worse, her need for a sign. “I mean… you know what I mean,” she finishes lamely.

“Not really.” He glances at Jimin behind her and nods in acknowledgment before turning back to her. “The team wants to take a couple of extra shots at night, so I’m heading there with Jungkook. You want to come?”

He asks so casually, as though he’s asking her if she wants to go to the grocery store with him, that her heart flutters unexpectedly. “I - your staff won’t like that,” is her first response, before she cringes inwardly. “And also… no. No… thank you.”

Taehyung nods, looking as though he expected it. “No problem. I’ll see you later.”

Dilara watches him leave in silence, his gait cool and smooth as he passes by Jimin, murmuring something in Korean before heading out. She tries to count herself lucky; it doesn’t seem as though he’d overhead her - but if he has, she may as well just begin avoiding eye contact with him for the rest of her life. 

Jimin, apparently waiting for Taehyung to be fully out of earshot this time, grins at her. “That kind of sign?”

“No,” she says immediately, entering the house. “Never that kind of sign.”

“Are you sure?” he presses, following her into the house and shutting the door behind him. “It’s him - he’s the sign,” he explains dramatically.

Dilara gives him a pointed look, stopping at the door to her bedroom. “Never that kind of sign.”

—

The next day when Dilara sees BTS in the paddock, her gaze goes straight to Taehyung and Jimin. They're walking next to each other, albeit talking to members on their other sides. She tries to look elsewhere; it's officially race weekend again and she can't afford to be distracted. It's hard, though, because her situation with Taehyung is complicated enough; the last thing she wants is for a private conversation to have been overheard by him, however accidental it may have been.

So Dilara avoids them all day, all of them. She tries not to make it obvious because she’s glad that they’re all finally getting back on decent terms, so she opts to spend time in the garage with the rest of the team, going over free practice times and tyre strategies for Qualifying tomorrow. Even when Jaden Park, who's supposed to be in Max's garage and not hers, accidentally-on-purpose bumps into her and she notices Seokjin looking at them and frowning, she keeps her goal in mind and handles it herself.

It’s a success, for the most part. Her car feels fantastic and the paddock generally seems more lively this weekend for some reason; she doesn’t know if it has to do with the nice weather or the fact that Portimao is generally an exciting race every year. Either way, it’s good for her because in her effort to avoid BTS and give them their space, she ends up spending time with all the other drivers.

Later in the evening, when the paddock is emptying out, Dilara is on her way to the Red Bull conference room for a team briefing when she gets a notification from Jimin. Heart hammering slightly, she swipes it open.

Jimin [19:52] Dilara. Please stop avoiding him because of me.

Dilara [19:53] I’m not? Why would you think that?

Jimin [19:53] Have you said anything to him at all today?

Dilara [19:54] I have gone many many days without saying a single word to him. Did you by any chance tell him what we talked about yesterday?

Jimin [19:56] Of course not. Please don’t avoid him because of that. He’s really confused - I can tell.

Dilara [19:56] Jimin. I’m not avoiding him. Really. I just don’t know what to say to him, to be very honest.

Jimin [19:57] What? Things were getting so much better between you two. 

Dilara [19:58] Well, sure. We weren’t throwing things at each other and screaming anymore. That’s a pretty low bar.

Jimin [19:58] Fair enough. Will you be joining us for dinner?

Dilara [19:59] Not sure. I have to go for a briefing. I don’t know when I’ll be back.

Jimin [20:00] Want me to tell him to pick you up? You guys could talk.

Dilara [20:00] Omg NO. Jimin!

Jimin [20:00} What? He’ll be happy to do it.

Dilara [20:01] I’m sure he would. Look, Jimin, I know you feel guilty about your part in this, okay? If this is your way of trying to help - you’re off the hook. I forgive you.

Jimin [20:02] Really?

Dilara [20:02] Yes.

There’s no response. Dilara slows down slightly, wondering if her hunch is actually right. She’d only said that to shut him up, but his silence seems to indicate otherwise.

Then -

Jimin [20:05] Did you kiss last week?

Dilara [20:06] I fucking beg your pardon?

Jimin [20:07] Hobi hyung said he saw you guys hugging. If I remember correctly, you two had no problem going further than that in public.

Dilara [20:08] Jimin. Shut up.

Jimin [20:09] Just a question. Jeez.

Dilara [20:09] I dare you to go ask him this.

Jimin [20:10] Well played.

Dilara [20:11] Look, Jimin, I have to go. Just… I’m not avoiding him, okay? And even if it seems like it, it’s probably for the best.

When Jimin doesn’t reply, she breathes a silent sigh of relief. She’s almost at the conference room now and she’s getting late, but she needs to know this conversation is closed. Then, just when she thinks she can move on with her day, a picture pops up on the chat. It’s of Taehyung, shockingly, in the backyard with his blond hair catching the setting sun as he points - her heart skips a beat - the Polaroid she’d gifted him at the horizon.

Realising with a start that she’s been staring at it for almost a minute, Dilara types out a reply, fingers shaking slightly. 

Dilara [20:15] What am I looking at?

Jimin [20:15] He’s been out there for an hour now. He looks like he’s in a k-drama.

If by that he means that Taehyung looks tall, handsome and tragic all at once, he’s right. Dilara feels a familiar rush of mild envy and pride all at once, and knows she needs to nip this in the bud.

Dilara [20:16] Well, he certainly acts well enough to be in one. I have to go. I’ll see you later.

All through the briefing, Dilara can’t help but think that her decision to avoid them is for the best, if Jimin’s reaction is anything to go by. Even after the briefing, she dilly-dallies near the enclosure, wondering how to kill even more time before she has no choice but to head back to the house. 

Dilara sighs and glances down at her phone. It’s barely seven; she can’t hang around here for five hours… she looks around, wondering if she can possibly hang around with her pit crew to fix her car or something, when she suddenly catches sight of a small group of them and sees Jaden Park in the middle of it. Her heart in her mouth at how narrowly she’s avoided him, she turns the opposite way and starts walking towards the parking lot.

Then, a miracle happens.

Dilara’s phone pings and she groans softly, not in the mood for more of Jimin’s guilt trip. Honestly, she’s glad that her confession of sorts seems to have indeed been kept from Taehyung, but she’s more convinced than ever that both of them need this space to clear their heads. 

Max [22:40] Komyshan. Heading out for a bite with Daniel, Lando and Charles. You’re coming, right?

Her heart leaps and she thinks if her taste were slightly different, she could kiss Max Verstappen. She types out a reply, not even trying to suppress the relieved smile she can feel on her face. Rapidly saying a quick yes, she skips over to the parking lot.

As she nears it, she feels something nagging at her, tugging at her heart. She reopens her chat with Jimin, slowly scrolling up until she finds it. 

He’s really confused - I can tell. 

There is no reason this should evoke any sympathy in her. She should want him to feel bad for everything he did, but that angry part of her feels like a past version, like a person she used to know. If anything, she knows how he feels, with the confusion - and she realises it’s not sympathy, but empathy she’s starting to feel for him, especially if he’s had Jimin breathing down his neck the entire time as well. 

Dilara scrolls further down to the picture Jimin sent her of Taehyung; of course he looks like a model, like a stock photo. Perfect body proportions, perfect jawline silhouette, perfectly falling hair, capturing perfect pictures, looking perfectly heartbroken.

She sighs again, struggling. Things were getting so much better with you two. It’s the validation she didn’t know she needed. She recalls how his unexpected appearance behind the front door had taken her breath away last night. 

Feeling apprehensive, she opens her chat with Taehyung to see only two messages, from the night Chris visited. She bites her lip, deciding that she needs to tell someone where she is anyway or they’re bound to get worried. Thumb hovering over the keyboard momentarily, she types out a message.

Dilara [22:50] I’m going out with some of the guys. Not sure when I’ll be back but let’s talk later?

Dilara hits send and immediately panics. Talk? Talk about what? She groans out loud, attracting the attention of her fellow drivers. When Max calls out “Komyshan!”, she waves back tiredly and walks towards them. After they’re all strapped in and Charles is reversing out of the parking lot, she receives a reply.

Tae [22:52] I’ll be waiting.

---

He isn’t, not exactly. 

It actually ends up being an extremely late night for them; Dilara and her friends go back to the same club that she’d gone to with BTS two nights ago and although they don’t drink nearly as much and definitely don’t dance, it ends up being a pretty fun night overall and actually succeeds in making her forget about her love life for a couple of hours. When it’s finally time to go, it’s almost one in the morning, just as she’d hoped. 

Dilara is pleasantly surprised when Max drops off the other three before driving her back to the house, remembering that they can’t let the group’s location be revealed to anyone. They don’t talk about it, thankfully, but when he stops the car and she’s about to open the door, he finally speaks.

“How’s it going, by the way?” Max points to the house. “Are you two good now?”

She shrugs. “No idea, honestly.”

He frowns, looking mildly curious. “Oh. Looked like everything was fine at the photoshoot the other day. You two looked like you were sneaking around again.”

We were? Dilara’s confusion must show on her face, for Max chuckles. “Obviously, I’m wrong. Anyway,” he says abruptly, and she takes that as her cue to step out, “good luck for tomorrow. Go get some sleep.”

When she enters the house, it’s to see all seven members huddled on the sofa, with Jungkook, Yoongi and Hoseok sitting on the back of the couch. She frowns and stares as the door clicks shut behind her, wondering why on earth they feel the need to pile on top of each other while there are two more perfectly comfortable couches right next to them. 

Then she spots the laptop perched on the coffee table in front of them and when Jin says something in Korean and a couple of them laugh and Jimin replies, she realises they're live.

All their eyes flicker up to look at her, though, before quickly darting back to the screen, their expressions carefully unchanging - all except Taehyung. 

He meets her gaze; with his long hair brushing his ears and a green cardigan making him look warm and inviting, it’s no wonder she doesn’t look away for a couple of seconds before he tears his eyes away to look back at the screen. 

Sensing this as the ultimate opportunity to avoid whatever conversation he has in mind, Dilara swiftly makes her way into her bedroom and quietly shuts the door. Hesitating for exactly one second, she crosses her bedroom and opens her tablet, the only device she has that still has the Vlive app, and joins the stream.

Taehyung looks up again in the direction of her room before turning his attention back to the screen, and for a moment it feels like he’s looking right at her. He glances vaguely over at the rest of them before he locks eyes with Namjoon and - it happens in a split second - Namjoon gives him an imperceptible shake of the head.

Dilara lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, somewhat thankful yet regretful that she won’t hear a knock on her door right now. The next moment, though, she sees Taehyung look down at his lap again and pick up his phone this time, fingers flying over the screen. Right on cue, her phone buzzes next to her.

She scoffs quietly, ignoring how her heart leaps in spite of itself, unsurprised to see a message. 

Tae [01:10] How was your night?

Dilara [01:11] Tiring.

Tae [01:12] Still up for that talk?

Dilara [01:13] Aren’t you live?

Tae [01:13] I go live a lot.

Dilara [01:14] Namjoon looks like he could kill you if you left.

Tae [01:14] Hold on, are you watching?

Dilara feels like slapping herself. When she looks up at the screen, she sees his cheeks pulled back slightly, head still bent over his phone. 

Dilara [01:15] Just a guess. Can we take a raincheck? I’m pretty tired and I have Qualifying tomorrow.

On screen, he freezes for a moment and she thinks she notices his shoulders fall slightly. He types something before locking his phone and looking up at the camera, tossing his hair out of his eyes, face completely unreadable. Her phone pings, and her heart thuds softly at his reply. 

Tae [01:16] Of course. Sleep well. 

The next day, the flaw with her proposition comes to light when Dilara, once again, sees them in the paddock. She’s been in the garage for nearly two hours by the time Taehyung, Jimin, Jungkook and Namjoon arrive. Given the public setting, the most she can do is wave to them from afar and ignore Jimin giving her a pointed look.

She’d thought long and hard about it as she fell asleep last night, the content of their “talk”. We need space, she’d rehearsed in her head. Just to think. Just to figure this out. Short and vague, the best way to go. 

Of course, talking about space isn’t the best decision, especially since none of their conversations have ever gone as planned. They either fight or cry or both, and she’d really rather avoid any of that. As a result, she avoids all of them, specifically Jimin’s texts and even Jungkook when he comes up to her car, eyes shining in admiration. She engages with him while the cameras are on them but the moment they drift away, she immediately excuses herself and hurries into her changing room.

It’s Qualifying day, though, so there’s enough to do in any case. Dilara goes out for FP3, having long and serious discussions with Christian, all his attention on her for once since Max will start tomorrow from the back of the grid due to his penalty. 

Dilara feels strangely stressed, still. Part of it is Qualifying, part of it is having Max all the way back in P20 and therefore of no support to her, part of it is Jimin’s continuous texts, Taehyung’s presence, their impending conversation, and Jaden bumping into her yet again - except this time, he’s openly cold.

“Good luck,” he says shortly, brushing past her.

“Thanks,” says Dilara automatically, stumbling slightly while he continues walking.

“Pity you didn’t get the new engine,” he adds, turning around and walking backwards.

“Bite me, Park.” 

She shakes her head as he disappears around a corner, the competitiveness emerging in full force. One date, one date and this is the fallout she has to deal with. She makes sure to continue thinking about it, enjoying the anger she knows will help when she gets into the car and zooms into Q3, eventually qualifying P3 for the race tomorrow. 

Everyone’s happy; Christian hugs her, Max comes from inside the garage in jeans, hugging her for the cameras, and Natalie Pinkham interviews her, Lewis and George, all the top three qualifiers, one by one. 

Dilara still evades the group, though; she sees Namjoon smile at her from across the garage and tentatively smiles back, but looks at no one else. She’s aware of what a terrible job she’s doing with this; she doesn’t even want to imagine what Taehyung’s face looks like when she ignores him. But there’s only so much she can focus on during a race weekend, or at least that’s what she tells herself.

Dilara does have one moment of pleasure, though; on her way back inside for a shower, she passes Jaden again. 

“Looks like I won’t be needing that engine after all,” she says innocently, mimicking his shrug and ignoring his scowl as she walks away.

She manages to sneak away from the paddock without the group. There’s a sponsorship meeting they have with the Red Bull marketing team, which was the reason they even showed up today, and the moment she spotted them shuffling into the conference room between engineers and press officers darting about, she hurried away, keen to get back home and lock herself up in her room until she has to go to sleep.

The house is a fifteen minute walk from the paddock. Dilara tries to let go of everything else for a while and just enjoy the weather in silence, along with her P3 starting position and her jab at a bitter ex-flame. It’s peaceful, the last rays of the sun lighting up the sky while the cool breeze makes autumn leaves crunch under her shoes. The house is two minutes away now, within her view, when her phone pings yet again, followed by a series of pings.

Frowning - and panicking, slightly - she opens her phone to see eight messages on the most ridiculous WhatsApp group she’s a part of: Taehyung’s true loves, courtesy Jimin, who added her and Jungkook in an effort to convince her that their friendship is independent of her relationship with Taehyung. Neither she nor Jungkook had ever said anything on it, too awkward to, so eventually after a series of whiny messages, Jimin had stopped as well.

Dilara has no desire to start becoming an active participant now. With all the strength in her, she locks her phone and is about to slip it into her bag when it buzzes, the ringtone loud in the quiet of the street.

Huffing, she answers it. “What?”

“Dilara? Uh… have you left?”

“What… Jungkook?” Unexpected, to say the least. “What are you - I mean, yeah. I have. Why?”

“You should come back,” is all he says. “Taehyung hyung kind of… it’s a bit of a situation.”

This explains nothing. “What does that mean?”

“Um…” Jungkook’s voice moves away, as though he’s speaking to someone else. “I think he - I think punched your ex? That guy? Or - or he tried to, anyway. He’s not the best at -”

“He what?”

“Yeah, no, his stance wasn’t very good either and -” There’s a shuffle and she hears the phone transferred to someone else.

“Hey, Dilara,” comes Jimin’s voice, calm - and smug. “Remember when you said you needed a sign? I think you just got one.”

–

Her legs are starting to cramp but Dilara doesn;t stop, not until she gets to the garage. She spots Jimin and Jungkook hovering at the entrance, shoulders relaxing in relief when they see her.

“What - the - hell?” she pants, stopping for the first time since the phone call. 

“Holy shit, did you run all the way?” Jimin asks, ignoring her shake of the head as she tries to catch her breath. “Here, have some water first.”

“What happened?” Dilara asks desperately, reaching for the water anyway and downing half of it in one go. “What do you mean he - and who’s -” There are so many moving parts to it that she falters, her heart feeling like it’s going to fall out of her chest.

“Jaden,” answers Jungkook. “The pit crew guy. He said…” He swallows and looks at Jimin apprehensively.

Her heart skips a beat. “What? Jungkook, what?” Then she remembers. “Wait, where the hell is he?”

“The medic is trying to stop his nose from bleeding,” answers Jimin, sounding repulsed. “Hope it hurts,” he adds savagely.

Her eyes widen and she slaps him on the shoulder. “Not him!”

Jimin blinks, rubbing his shoulder absently. “Oh. Taehyung’s over there - but he’s really angry so be careful when you -” 

But Dilara ignores him, brushing past both of them into the changing room he’s pointed at. Kicking the door open, she sees Seokjin standing next to Taehyung, who’s sitting holding an ice pack over his limp hand, while Jin speaks rapidly in Korean, sounding rather like he’s lecturing him. Taehyung looks up mid-wince, face going slack when he sees her, as though he can’t quite believe she’s here.

Seokjin mutters something when he sees her and pats his shoulder before walking out past her, giving her a small nod as he does. Dilara doesn’t look away from Taehyung, though. For a moment, they’re just staring at each other, him with apprehension and defiance, and she with an overwhelming sense of anger… and fear. There’s so much she wants to say, yell, scream that she can’t choose. 

She walks forward until she’s standing right above him. “Give me the icepack.”

Taehyung’s face reacts minutely before smoothing back out. He looks back down at his hands and shakes his head. “No.”

Dilara stares at him, incredulous. “Give me the icepack,” she repeats. “And you better start explaining while you’re at it.”

“I don’t need to explain anything,” he mumbles, twisting his body away from her. When she lunges towards him, livid and missing his hand by inches, he looks up in horror. “What are you doing?” he cries. “Do you have any idea how much this hurts?”

Her chest constricts. She reaches forward and takes off his snapback, just for something to do. “Then give it to me!”

“What the - no! Go away!”

“No way. You don’t get to cause drama on my paddock and then tell me to -”

“Oh, so now this is about you?”

“Goddamnit, Tae! Why do you have to make everything so difficult!” she shouts in frustration. “Just give me the fucking icepack!”

Taehyung stares up at her, eyes wide. He takes a shaky breath and she realises with a jolt that for the first time since they broke up, she’s addressed him by his name. Tae… She hasn’t said that name out loud in months, not to Jimin, not to Lexie, not even to herself.

Silently, he raises his hand and hands her the icepack. Taking it, she kneels in front of him and takes his right hand, gingerly placing the icepack on it. He hisses but keeps his hand steady, and she carefully continues, trying not to think about how close they are, how she can feel him looking at her.

His knuckles are red and bruised, but thankfully not bleeding. She tries to hold his hand as gently as possible, but firmly enough that he can’t pull away because she really, really doesn't want to let go of him right now.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demands in a low voice, not looking up. “How could you -” she breaks off, shaking her head.

It’s a moment before Taehyung answers. “It’s not important.” When her head snaps up to look at him incredulously, he frowns and looks away, shrugging stubbornly.

“How is it -” Dilara pauses with the icepack for a moment, exhaling through her nose. “You hit him. You punched him - apparently.”

He frowns. “What do you mean apparently?” he asks, sounding almost defensive.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says sarcastically, holding up his hand and ignoring his dramatic gasp. “Look at this. Have you ever punched anything before?”

“Jungkook taught me once. Kind of.”

“That’s great. And now Jaden is with the medic getting his nose fixed! How is why not important?”

Taehyung scoffs in disgust. “There was barely any blood. Don’t worry, his stupid face will be fine,” he mutters scathingly.

Dilara glares up at him again, fighting the urge to smack the back of his head. “I don’t care about him!” She ignores how he suddenly looks up, as though surprised. “What about you? You - you hurt your hand!” She takes a deep breath. “What if he complains? He - he will complain and then Red Bull -” She gasps as something horrific occurs to her. “What if they - what if Big Hit gets involved? This - this is a PR disaster!”

Taehyung doesn’t seem to have heard most of what she’s said. “It - it will be fine,” he says finally, but she can hear an undertone of worry in his voice. “Namjoon hyung is talking to the team.” He swallows. “I trust him.”

Don’t we all. But Red Bull is a whole other matter. “God, Tae…” She drops her head before raising it slowly to look up at him. “Please tell me this isn’t about what you overheard the other night.”

He says nothing for a moment but then frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“The sign. When I told him that -” But it’s too much to explain and she doesn’t have the patience to get him to admit something he doesn’t want to - if he indeed has something to admit to. “Forget it. What did he say? Jaden?”

Predictably, Taehyunglowers his eyes again. “I can’t tell you. But he deserved it.”

“What do you mean you can’t tell me?”

“I mean that there’s no point if I tell you. He said a lot of stupid stuff but if I tell you, then it’s not - it’s not…” He sighs and looks away, and she knows he’s searching for the English word. “It doesn’t mean anything if I tell you,” he says finally, giving up.

Dilara stares. “Are you telling me… you punched a guy - badly - and hurt your hand and you can’t tell me because you’re trying to be chivalrous?” When his eyes light up at the sound of the word he was looking for, she snaps. “You - what? You jeopardized your career to - to defend my honour? Are you actually serious?”

“You didn’t hear him,” he states, frowning down at her now. “You don’t know what he was saying. And no, I’m not telling you,” he adds before she can ask again. “But, yeah. What he said was horrible. And…” He shrugs defiantly. “I didn’t like hearing that about you.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that. She should be flattered, and she thinks she is, but it pales in comparison to how worried she is for him right now. He has no idea the power Red Bull holds - none at all. “You’re going to be in so much trouble,” she whispers. “He could press charges. How are you not more worried?”

Taehyung’s eyes flicker. “I don’t think he will,” he says, but his fake confidence doesn’t fool her. “I - I don’t regret it.” He meets her gaze. “Everything he said was bullshit,” he blurts. “He doesn’t know you at all. Seriously, I can’t believe you went out with him.”

Dilara raises an eyebrow. “You really want to go there?”

He frowns churlishly. “He’s an asshole. He -” Taehyung stops himself, biting down on his lip. “You are so out of his league,” he says eventually, looking away.

After a moment, she dips the icepack onto his hand again, slowly, concentrating on nothing else. “You’re an idiot,” she says quietly, her voice betraying her. “Such a drama queen.” 

Taehyung rests his other hand on her shoulder, brushing his thumb lightly against her jaw. She knows he’s doing it to comfort her, but she doesn’t think she’s the one that needs it right now. “I still can’t believe you did this. You’re going to be in so much trouble, Tae,” she repeats, looking up at him again. His eyes soften when she says his name again, and she can tell it means the world to him. But right now, she doesn’t care about that. 

“It won’t be as bad as you think. I told you, I trust Namjoon hyung,” he reminds her, eyes flickering to her mouth momentarily. But then a shadow passes across his face. “I just hope I haven’t got him in trouble.”

To that, Dilara has nothing to say. The ice has almost melted now; they’re basically just holding hands, but even the realisation doesn’t make her want to let go. “What did he say?” she tries again, deciding that disdain towards Jaden is better than this worry for his leader. “Jaden?”

Taehyung’s face twists in disgust; somehow he still manages to look handsome and sexy all at once. “I told you, I’m not telling you,” he says obstinately, a slight smirk appearing when she rolls her eyes. 

“I can’t think what would be so bad that you’d do this,” she confesses, shaking her head. “You never struck me as the violent type.”

He frowns. “I’m not. But you make me step out of my comfort zone quite a bit,” he adds, cracking a smile.

Dilara holds his gaze, not sure what about the situation today could have required it. It’s not surprising that Jaden would’ve said something, maybe even something really bad. Did he call her a bad driver? A slut? A whore? She’s mildly shocked at how little those words affect her, especially when it’s in comparison to the sheer terror she’s feeling for Taehyung right now.

She’s just contemplating how she will face him and the rest of the group if it turns out that she’s the reason BTS goes from seven to six members, when he bumps her forehead with his. “Stop worrying,” he chides gently. “It’s happened now. We’ll see how it goes.”

Even as her heart races at the momentary proximity of their faces, she glares up at him. “I can’t stop worrying. You should be worrying,” she points out, jabbing him in the chest with the hand holding the icepack.

“You - ugh, you’re getting water on my shirt…”

The door behind them swings open then and she sees Taehyung’s head snap up, face going smooth, before she turns to see Namjoon walking in, Seokjin right behind him. Both of them stand up in unison and before she can register what’s happening, Taehyung is ushered out and into a meeting room.

“Wait, wait,” she says quickly, grabbing Namjoon’s arm. “What’s - who’s in there?”

“Don’t worry, it’s just a couple of people from Red Bull and Big Hit,” he replies, in what she presumes is meant to be a reassuring tone. “They just want to know what happened. Although, Jaden is…” He trails off, and he winces uncomfortably.

“But what’s going to happen to - to Tae? What are they going to -”

“Dilara, relax,” says Namjoon hurriedly, starting to walk out of the room. “We have our reps. It should be over soon.”

That doesn’t sound comforting at all. “What is that supposed to - do they know it was Jaden’s fault? Apparently he said -” Here she breaks off, remembering suddenly that even she don’t know what he said.

Apparently taking advantage of her momentary silence, Namjoon starts to slip out. “He’ll be out soon,” he promises.

“Stop making it sound like prison!” she says loudly as they leave. Alone once again, she trudges out of the changing room to see…

“Shit,” she mutters, spotting her across the garage. “Vicki.”

Dilara’s press officer raises her eyebrows before beckoning her exactly like Namjoon did Taehyung, and just like her ex, she silently follows her into a secluded corner of the garage.

“Alright,” says Vicki, somehow managing to sound stern, knowing and worried all at once. “Please tell me you did not go out with someone from Max’s pit crew.”

—

“... and then he cornered me again yesterday to ask me why I wouldn’t go out with him -”

“Again?” Vicki shakes her head, incredulous. “Jesus, Dilara. Why didn’t you tell someone he was bothering you?”

“Because -” Dilara shrugs uncomfortably. “We’re racing. And it wasn’t a big deal.” When she catches sight of Vicki’s expression, she backtracks. “Okay, honestly? If he’d come up to me one more time, I probably would have.”

“You shouldn’t have to wait for that,” she declares in her usual business-like fashion. “But maybe you didn’t because he’s a member of the team…?” Vicki tilts her head knowingly.

Dilara’s face heats up. “I know it’s not technically against the rules,” she murmurs, only slightly guilty as she looks down at the floor. “But it’s stupid.”

Vicki observes her for a moment before nodding. “Still doesn’t give him the right to talk like an arsehole.”

“Okay, what did he say?” Dilara asks for what feels like the hundredth time. “Why won’t anyone just tell me?”

“Well, firstly because he said it in Korean,” she points out. “And secondly… you should ask your friends,” she adds, tilting her chin at something behind Dilara. She turns to see Jimin and Jungkook waiting at the end of the corridor, trying to look nonchalant but clearly waiting for her. The rush of affection she feels for them in that moment is overwhelming.

Dilara turns back to Vicki, not meeting her eyes. By the way she said “friends”, it’s clear she knows they aren’t just any friends. Or it’s because one of them hit a guy a member of the team. “What’s - what’s going to happen to - to Jaden?”

Vicki shrugs sympathetically. “They’re both in there,” she answers, and Dilara is grateful for how she includes Taehyung in it, too. “We’ll see. Don’t worry about it, Dilara. You have a race tomorrow,” she reminds her.

Dilara nods and watches as Vicki leaves after patting her shoulder, before turning around and walking towards Jimin and Jungkook. Suddenly aware of how much taller they are, she buries her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. “You guys want to go for a walk?” she asks in a small voice.

Even though they both nod instantly and Jungkook simply puts an arm around her shoulders, they only end up getting as far as the garage before Seokjin, who’s still outside the conference room, shakes his head silently as soon as he spots them. From this, she gathers that they’re still not in total privacy and she can’t be seen alone on a street with just two members and no production crew.

They slowly drift apart, taking seats on opposite sides of the garage. For the first time ever, Dilara initiated a conversation on Jimin’s silly WhatsApp group. Both of them reply immediately and she finally, finally gets the whole story.

They tell her how after their meeting, a couple of engineers had come in to use the printer for some data. One of them, Jaden, recognised them and greeted them in Korean, after which everyone else left, leaving only the eight of them in the room. It was small talk for a bit initially, with Taehyung hanging in the back and not participating at all, before Jaden really opened his mouth.

At this, Jungkook hesitates, wondering if Taehyung hyung should be the one to tell her. She informs them about the weird chivalrous trip Taehyung’s on and that she’s not getting a single answer out of him. After some silent begging and pleading from across the garage, Jimin visibly rolls his eyes and spills.

Jimin [19:41] He said he thought you were hot and it was good to finally having something nice to look at on the paddock

Jungkook [19:42] And he said that he went out with you in Yeongam and you… did stuff.

Dilara [19:43] Oh god. Seriously? He actually said that?

Jimin [19:44] Yeah. And then Namjoon said that we’ve all known you for a long time now and then Jaden asked if any of us had ever hooked up with you. Obviously we all said no.

Jungkook [19:45] Except Taehyung hyung. He just didn’t answer.

Jimin [19:46] Yeah, but Jaden didn’t notice. He said he thought you were cool initially but then you became kind of mean and you didn’t want to go out with him anymore.

Dilara [19:46] He said I was “mean”? That’s the word he used? 

Across the garage, she can see Jimin look up at her apprehensively before glancing at Jungkook, who simply shrugs uncomfortably. 

Dilara [19:46] Come on, what did he really say?

Jimin [19:47] He called you a spoiled brat… and a bitch. And he said that you turned him down after one date because you were still hung up on your ex.

Fuck. Dilara groans inwardly, Taehyung’s suppressed happiness and gentle yet confident caresses suddenly making sense. When she looks up at them, cringing visibly, she spots both of them biting back smug smiles. 

Dilara [19:48] Shut up. 

Jimin [19:49] Hilarious. Anyway, then Jin hyung tried to change the subject but Jaden brought it back to you again. He said if he’d known you were just good for one date, he would’ve gotten as much out of it as he could right then.

Jungkook [19:50] And then he… did a thing with his hand.

Dilara [19:51] So he’s a creep. Tae hit him because of this? Really?

Jimin [19:51] Well he said it in a lot more detail. But I can’t type that out.

Jungkook [19:52] Yeah, he called you a really bad word. And I can’t tell you. It’s in Korean and I can’t say it. It’s too horrible.

Huh. Dilara looks up to see Jungkook frowning at the screen, apparently troubled just at the thought of it. She wracks her brains for the worst thing a guy could call a girl in English. The more she thinks about it, the more she finds she doesn’t really want to know.

Jungkook [19:56] Anyway. Then out of nowhere, Taehyung punched him. Jaden got knocked back into the wall and I think his nose was bleeding.

Jimin [19:56] He deserves it. Who the fuck talks like that?

Dilara [19:57] And Tae? I saw his hand.

Jimin [19:57] Yeah, he was quite pissed. I haven’t seen him like that in a long time.

Dilara [19:58] Do you know what they’re talking about in there?

Jungkook [19:58] Not a clue. I think they’re just working on a way to keep it quiet.

Jungkook and Jimin launch into a discussion speculating what will happen now, whether their lawyers will get involved or whether they’ll try to resolve it right here, and if Jaden will try to make it a bigger deal. Dilara can’t participate; all she can think about is Taehyung in there, no idea what they’re talking about or what frame of mind he’s in. He’s smart and clever, but he’s also impulsive with his words. One wrong question or remark and he’ll respond with the snarkiest comment he can come up with, making the situation worse than it already is. 

Jimin [20:03] Don’t worry, Dilara. This wasn’t your fault.

Dilara shakes her head, not caring that she’s this transparent. Jimin’s words, while technically what she needs to hear, don't help at all because, really - isn't it her fault? Wasn't Jaden a dick because of her, because she turned him down? Wasn't Taehyung being reckless because of how far she’s pushed him? Because she entered his life in the first place? Her thoughts spiral as she imagines being the sole reason for BTS's negative publicity, for their hate, for their disbandment  -

Her phone pings again, but from a different contact. The moment she sees Namjoon's display icon, she dives for the phone. 

Namjoon [20:08] Hey. You alright?

Dilara [20:08] What is going on in there? How are you texting?

Namjoon [20:08] Hard to say. And Christian got a phone call that he had to pick up. 

Dilara [20:09] Damnit. How's Tae?

Namjoon [20:09] Pretty calm.

Dilara [20:09] That’s… not good. Right? Or is it?

Namjoon [20:10] No, he's not going overboard. I was there - I kind of get why he got so mad.

Dilara [20:10] Really?

Namjoon [20:11] Yeah. I mean, not mad enough to punch a guy in the face.

There’s a rolling eyes emoji at the end of the message. Dilara feels a tingling in her fingers and a prickle of defensiveness.

Dilara [20:12] I guess if a guy had said that about Kaya, you wouldn't have done the same. 

She doesn’t phrase it like a question; she doesn’t want it to seem like she’s challenging him… even though she kind of is. Dilara watches the ellipses appear to indicate that he’s typing. He types for a while, nearly a minute, pausing constantly. Finally, the message appears.

Namjoon [20:14] Yeah, I would’ve broken his face.

Mildly satisfied, she places the phone down and waits. Jimin and Jungkook have stopped their bickering on the group, too, but she makes a mental note to thank them later, genuinely and profusely, for being so nice to her when she’s been anything but.

It’s nearly thirty more minutes of excruciating waiting, with Seokjin, Jimin and Jungkook sitting with her. She hasn't the faintest where Yoongi and Hoseok are; she’s about to ask Jin about it, just to distract herself, when the door opens and Christian comes out.

Dilara leaps to her feet automatically, thoroughly relieved when his eyes land on her instantly and he beckons her to follow him. She jogs after him until they’re out of earshot and he turns to her, suddenly looking taller.

“Has Jaden been harassing you, Dilara?” The first question out of his mouth throws her for a loop.

“Has he -” She swallows, biting her lip. “Why - um, what have you heard?”

“That he’s been harassing you.” Christian folds his arms across his chest. “Vicki just told us. It changes everything.”

Her heart skips a beat. “Changes what? What - what do you mean? What happened? What’s going to happen to -”

“Well, Jaden has been fired,” he begins, placing his hands on his hips. “He was a good engineer, but…” He shakes his head. “We can’t have a person on the team who treats a woman like that. It would be a publicity nightmare.” His eyes snap up to her. “And it’s incredibly disrespectful to you, too, of course.”

Dilara nods, somewhat in a daze. “So, he’s… fired? Just like that? What if he goes to the press?”

“He’s signing an NDA. If he wants his severance and doesn’t want to be blacklisted, he’ll sign it.” Christian’s confidence seems dangerously unbalanced. “Plus, Big Hit would lose millions if they broke the contract now. And also, apparently, the negative publicity would be enormous if it got out that their employee was being punished for defending his… friend.”

By the way he says it, she knows she’s been made. “Christian…”

“He was the same bloke that miraculously found you on the middle of the road in Monza, was he not?”

Dilara swallows. “He was. Look, it’s not -”

“I don’t want to know.”

“No, you don’t -”

“No, I genuinely don’t want to know.” He looks at her knowingly - too knowingly. “It’s better,” he says, slower this time, “if I don’t know.” When she nods hesitantly, he pats her shoulder once. “Right. Your friend… I think he should be fine. But in the future, Dilara,” he adds, suddenly sounding tired, “do let us know if a team member is creating a hostile work environment, will you?”

Dilara nods silently as he walks away, at the last minute telling her to go home and rest for the race tomorrow. She has no intention of going anywhere, though, not until she hears from Namjoon himself that this is over. Not Christian, not even Taehyung - Namjoon. Only him.

The next two minutes are unbearable. She walks back slowly to where she was seated before to see Seokjin, Jimin and Jungkook waiting for her expectantly. 

“Well?” Jimin prompts urgently.

“Um… he’s - he’s signing an NDA,” is all that comes out of her mouth. When all three of them look completely confused, she doesn’t know where to begin. “He said Jaden - Jaden signed an NDA and I think he said that Tae -”

At that moment, the conference room door opens and three people spill out: Taehyung, with a Korean man in a suit next to him, and Namjoon a step behind. To her immense relief, the latter strides over to them first thing. He says something in Korean, to which all three of them sigh loudly in relief. Heart hammering, Dilara looks up at him and tugs on his sleeve.

“What?” she asks quietly, desperately.

“He’s off the hook,” says Namjoon in English, clearly trying to keep his own smile under control, even as the dimples pop on his cheeks. "He's going to get a warning from the company, but since it won't get out… it'll be okay. It’ll be okay,” he repeats, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly.

Dilara swallows with difficulty, the words suddenly making no sense. “He’s -” She clears her throat, unable to tear her eyes away from Taehyung. His eyes meet hers for a fraction of a second over the man’s shoulder, but his expression is as unreadable as ever. “He’s not kicked out of the group?”

Namjoon raises his eyebrows. “You would think… but no.” He chuckles. “I’m kidding. We have some pretty good lawyers, you know?”

She doesn’t comment on how ominous that sounds. Next to her, Jungkook is rubbing his eyes, smiling in embarrassment. She can’t see what Seokjin and Jimin are doing behind her, and she only vaguely registers someone patting the top of her head.

Ahead of them, the man in the suit is finally walking away. Taehyung says something to him as he leaves but she doesn’t want to wait any longer. She turns to Namjoon.

“Can I… I mean, do you mind if we…”

Namjoon doesn’t look surprised at this unfinished request. He glances at Taehyung, who’s now slowly walking up to them, and nods. “Just… I mean, I don’t want to be that guy, but…” He shrugs apologetically “… one minute. We need to get on a conference call after this.”

She nods mutely and waits for all of them to vacate the garage before finally, finally facing Taehyung.

He stands before her, a respectful few feet between them, his hands in his pockets and looking breathtakingly handsome. He looks expectant, defiant - but above all, he looks relieved. It suddenly reminds her of how he’d looked at her nearly two years ago in the Suzuka paddock, before they’d ever exchanged a single word. 

Taehyung exhales shakily, and something snaps in her. All the anxiety of the weekend rushes into her chest at the same time and she tilts her head slightly, taking a step forward as though on autopilot. He nods silently and meets her halfway, and they wrap their arms around each other in an emotional hug.

Taehyung displays none of the hesitation he’d shown in the kitchen a week ago. His long hair brushes against her cheek where he’s buried his face in her neck, breathing now slightly uneven and she knows that despite his cool exterior, he was worried, too. She tightens her arms around his shoulders, gripping his shirt and pressing her forehead against his collarbone.

“You’re such an idiot, Kim Taehyung,” she murmurs shakily, savouring the familiar scent of lotion and spicy cologne. Christian Dior Sauvage, she remembers, tilting her face and inhaling slightly.

Taehyung nods, squeezing her waist with one hand. “I know,” he whispers against her skin, voice deep and reverberating in her ear.

Every bit of frustration, exasperation, gratitude and all the unnamed feelings she’s pushed deep down threaten to resurface. There’s so much she wants to tell him, and this is it.  She doesn’t know how to tell him more; when she feels his lips press against the skin just below her ear, as though instinctive, she feels an old familiar warmth in her abdomen and she doesn’t want it to go anywhere.

Dilara vaguely registers voices, a cue that causes them to begrudgingly separate. There’s some bustling; a phone call, some instructions in Korean, and Namjoon beckoning to his members. Dilara quietly takes her leave, trying not to think about how tightly she and Taehyung held each other or how her fingers slipped out of his hand when she left.

—

Dilara is woken by the sound of raucous laughter outside that abruptly dies down when someone shushes them. She groans softly; it’s still dark outside and the time on her phone indicates that she’s been asleep for less than an hour.

She hadn’t returned to the house after leaving the paddock. Too buzzed to be by herself, she’d headed straight to the hotel where the rest of the drivers were staying. A couple of the drivers had been playing FIFA and she’d piled on, making every effort to distract herself from the events of the day. She’d come back to the house an hour ago, sneaking in and going straight to her room and crashing. 

It was a fairly uncomfortable sleep, mostly because there’s something nagging on her mind, something she’s forgetting. Dilara can’t put her finger on it; she knows it has to do with Taehyung and what happened today, but everything else escapes her. She shifts restlessly in her bed, trying to go back to sleep - but the damage is done, and she’s wide awake..

Even after the voices outside dwindle down one by one before disappearing altogether and the light under the door turns off, she still can’t sleep. 

It’s after midnight when she checks her phone again, opening WhatsApp and checking for new messages. Apart from three messages from Jimin timed around the time they reached the house (Hey we got piri piri chicken! Okay Yoongi hyung just said you’re probably asleep. Good night :)), there’s nothing else. 

She thinks for a second, then goes onto the Taehyung’s true loves group. The last message is a joke from Jimin that he’d cracked to try and cheer her up.

Dilara [00:09] Hey guys. Just wanted to say thanks for today. I know I haven’t been the easiest person to be around but you guys were really there for me so… thank you.

Jimin [00:15] No need to thank us but fine, you can buy us ice cream tomorrow.

Dilara [00:15] I can? Aren’t you both dieting?

Jungkook [00:16] We can give it up for one ice cream. And you can join us in the gym when we burn it off.

Dilara [00:17] Deal. And um

Jungkook [00:17] What? 

Jungkook [00:18] Oh yeah. Taehyung was looking for you when we got back.

Dilara [00:19] Oh. Right. I was asleep.

Jimin [00:19] You’re not anymore. 

Dilara [00:20] And?

Jimin [00:20] And he’s awake too. 

Dilara can almost picture Jimin’s smirk as he dances around the topic. Fortunately, Jungkook comes to her rescue.

Jungkook [00:21] Yes but you have a race tomorrow, Dilara. You should sleep. 

Dilara [00:21] I will. Thank you Jungkook.

Jungkook [00:22] You’re welcome. And while we’re on the topic of thank yous, I think Taehyung hyung is the one you should really be saying that to.

Oh. Of course. Dilara sighs as it finally clicks, what she’s been forgetting. She’s snapped at him, confessed her worries to him, dropped her defences and embraced him - but she hasn’t thanked him, not yet. 

Now that she’s realised it, she knows she can’t sleep. She considers texting him, but she doesn’t know if that would seem too impersonal, especially after the emotional hug they shared. What does she do instead, though? Ask him to meet her outside? That feels like far too much pressure.

Jesus. Dilara climbs out of bed and heads to the kitchen, silently opening the fridge and taking her first drink of water in hours. This is Taehyung, she thinks, leaning against the kitchen island. Nothing about him warrants this much overthinking. Pulling out her phone from her pajamas’ pocket, she texts him.

Dilara [00:30] Hey.

Tae [00:32] Hey.

Dilara [00:33] How’s your hand?

Tae [00:33] Hurting a bit. Why aren’t you asleep?

Dilara [00:34] I couldn’t. You should stop texting though, if your hand hurts.

Tae [00:35] I can type with my left hand. Don’t you have a race tomorrow?

Dilara [00:36] Yeah. I’ve raced with less sleep though. Why aren’t you asleep?

Tae [00:36] I’m in bed.

A familiar flutter erupts in her chest, and her toes curl on the wooden floor. Without warning, an image of a shirtless Taehyung in boxer shorts, glasses on, lying on his side with his phone in one hand appears in her mind. She’s willing to bet a thousand bucks that that’s how he looks right now, before she remembers that a lot of things could have changed in a year.

Dilara [00:37] That’s too bad. We’ll talk tomorrow then.

Tae [00:37] We can talk now too.

Dilara [00:38] Nah, it’s more of an in-person conversation.

Tae [00:38] You know we live in the same house, right?

Dilara bites her lip, trying to stop the smile from spreading on her face. She starts walking towards her room, her heart suddenly beating faster. Stopping in front of her room, she leans against the closed door. 

Dilara [00:39] I’m aware.

Tae [00:40] But no. You need to sleep.

He’s flirting. It’s been so long since Kim Taehyung has flirted with her this confidently that she’s forgotten how much of a blushing mess she becomes, being thankful only for the fact that it’s never visible on her face. She gazes absently at the closet door in front of her, trying to think of a response.

Dilara [00:41] Yeah, I do. I’ll probably need to sleep after the race tomorrow too, because it’s always so tiring.

Tae [00:42] You can sleep on the train to Amsterdam. It’s going to be a long trip.

Dilara [00:42] Probably. I’m sure I’ll find someone to keep me company. 

Tae [00:43] Seven of us not enough for you?

I really only need one. But she doesn’t say it. It’s far too risky.

Dilara [00:45] That's a lot of talk for someone who barely escaped getting in trouble today. Or who knows how much you would've regretted it?

Tae [00:45] I won't regret anything I do for you.

Dilara closes her eyes and leans her head back against the door, suddenly feeling warm. She wonders briefly if the conversation is venturing into unfamiliar territory - or, rather, an all-too familiar territory. 

She stares at the closet door in front of ber, hoping for inspiration, when it suddenly opens to, once again, reveal none other than Taehyung himself, pulling on a white t-shirt as he steps out.

The combination of her surprise, his presence and the generous glimpse of lean, honey-coloured torso is enough to make her stumble and drop her phone. “Shit,” she mutters, averting her eyes and bending to pick it up. She looks up to see him frowning, knees bent as though about to help her up.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung glances between her and his door. “What were you doing outside my room?”

“I - that’s your room? I thought it was a closet,” she admits in slight embarrassment, feeling her heart rate slowly go back to normal.

He nods, looking amused. “You really couldn’t sleep, huh?”

Dilara tilts her head, twisting her mouth to hide her smile. “I thought we already discussed that.” She can’t stop looking at him, privately admiring how incredible he looks even in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, hair unstyled, face bare with a pair of black glasses perched on his nose. I was right, she thinks, mildly victorious. 

“We did. But now that you’re here…” He trails off pointedly, wiggling his eyebrows at her until she stifles a laugh. He grins, and her stomach does a backflip.

"I was just going to get back to bed," she tells him, and he simply nods. She doesn't move, though, and neither does he. His gaze is his usual intense one: unmoving, like a laser looking into her soul. She tries to hold it for as long as she can but when it becomes too much, she drops her gaze. "Can I see your hand?" she asks, mostly for something to say.

Wordlessly, he raises his right hand and she takes it. She can't really see anything; she brushes her fingers extremely lightly over his knuckles but he still hisses softly.

"Sorry," she mutters apologetically. "It's too dark here… can we go to the window?" 

He follows her a few steps away to the end of the hallway, where the house splits into a T, one room on either side. There's a window on the wall, though, wide and tall, with a near full moon causing a silvery light to stream in.

Dilara picks up his hand again and it makes sense now why he flinched. His knuckles are still an angry red, with scratches on the third and fourth joints. Her fingers ghost over his hand, but she’s careful not to touch him. When she hears his sharp intake of breath, she pauses before bringing both their hands down, fingers lightly intertwined momentarily before separating.

"I still can't believe you," she murmurs, shaking her head, but the disapproving tone is gone.

"I'm good at surprising people," he replies. He leans his side against the window and folds his arms across his chest, careful to keep his injured hand on the outside.

"Not just you." She doesn't look away from him. "Jimin and Jungkook told me what Jaden said." Predictably, his jaw clenches and his eyes blaze but the rest of his face stays unmoving. “I knew he was a jerk, but… yeah, I guess I’m surprised by how far he went.”

Taehyung observes her for a moment. “You still think he didn’t deserve it?”

Dilara reaches for his hand again, pointedly looking at his bruised knuckles. Thanks for defending me, she wants to say, but the words get stuck in her throat. 

“Can you even hold a mic with this hand? You’re performing in a few days,” she reminds him, referring to the charity concert in Amsterdam scheduled for the coming Friday - one she’ll be missing because of her race in Russia.

“Hm, let’s check.” Taehyung gently pulls away to pick up her hand, wrapping his injured hand around her wrist and showing her how his fingers easily meet.

“Is that how you hold your mic?”

He smirks and tugs, bringing ber hand right up to his face… right up to his mouth. “This is how I hold my mic.” There’s a moment where she thinks he’s going to kiss her hand and she feels her heart race in anticipation. But after a moment, he lets go, smiling wider as though he knows exactly what’s going on in her mind.

Dilara wants to playfully smack him. Thanks for making me laugh. He’s flirting so blatantly, and she has to remind herself that amidst all the shit Jaden said, he did basically confirm to Taehyung that she’s not over him. 

“Your fans will be very worried when they see you’ve been injured. I can almost see the hashtags on Twitter,” she continues, gesturing grandly. “Stay Strong Taehyung, or We support Taehyung and his gorgeous, injured, sexy hand.”

He laughs, and it suddenly feels warmer. “They will be worried,” he agrees, cocking his head, “but I’m sure even they’ll agree that it was worth it. You know, given that he’s been bothering you for weeks now, and today was just the finale.”

Dilara’s smile fades. “Vicki told you,” she guesses, sighing when he nods. “Well… yeah. Like I said, I knew he was a jerk.”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Jinjja, Dilara,” he says, and her heart skips a beat at the sound of her name on his tongue. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Oh, really? So I was supposed to come to you and tell you that this guy I hooked up with suddenly won’t leave me alone?” She scoffs. “That would’ve gone well.”

He shrugs. “Why not? Whatever happened between us, it doesn’t matter if something is making you uncomfortable. And besides, it didn’t have to be me, you know.”

She barely hears his last sentence. Thanks for caring about me. “Fine. The next time a guy starts bothering me, I’ll make sure to keep you updated.”

“Good. I’ll keep my fists ready,” he says wryly, bringing his thin fists to his face and blowing on them.

“Maybe I’ll actually get Jungkook to teach you how to punch by then.”

“I’d rather you teach me.”

It’s predictable but Dilara’s cheeks heat up anyway, and his face breaks into a gorgeous grin. She looks down at their feet, and realises they’ve sub-consciously moved closer to each other. The moment she thinks of it, the scent of lotion and faint cologne suddenly grows stronger, and she gets the urge to sink into his chest and spend the night curled up in his arms. The thought of waking up warm and cuddled makes her yawn, and she quickly covers it up.

“You really should sleep.” Taehyung reaches over and gently ruffles her bangs, his old way of playfully banter before doing something really soft, usually beginning with pulling her to him and hugging her while she jokingly protested. 

It makes her heart ache, the slow realisation that she still cares so much about him, that there’s nothing that can take away from the once-in-a-life-time connection they found with each other.

She still needs to thank him. Dilara can’t say the words, though; it seems inadequate somehow, given the risk he took, the impulse to do something so unlike him. She reaches up and slowly brushes a lock of blond hair out of his eyes, touching the corner of his glasses. 

They’re close enough now, enough that she won’t take him by surprise. She hopes she’s right when she brings her other hand up and gently holds the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his soft, long hair.

Dilara gives Taehyung a moment to catch on, noting how he swallows and all traces of joking disappear, leaving only an almost childlike hope and vulnerability. Then, rising on her toes, she gently pulls his head down and presses her lips to his.

Like the time they reached their understanding of sorts in the kitchen, it takes him a moment to respond, almost as though he can’t quite believe this is real. Dilara waits until he kisses her back, tilting his head and leaning in, before opening her mouth. His lips part with a sigh and she wants to do the same - so familiar and addictive is his taste. His king hair tickles her cheek as his hands come up to hold her, gently and tentatively.

Taehyung’s lips are everything she remembers them being; soft, energetic, loving. It’s a slow, savouring kiss. With how unexpected it was, they simply take the time to reacquaint themselves. Dilara is glad, she thinks as they separate to catch their breath and she presses a last kiss to his lips before pulling away, for if it were anything more, she doesn't think she’d be able to stop herself.

Taehyung looks… overwhelmed. His lips are slightly swollen and he absently bites his lower lip, his eyes shining with ten times more hope and pleasant shock than the photoshoot earlier this week.

“Thanks,” she says softly, not specifying what for. Taking a step back and trying to ignore how her heart is zooming, she starts walking back to her room, still aware of him watching her go. Just when she reaches her door, she remembers something.

“Oh, and, uh…” This is awkward, and her heart thuds. Trying to be casual and shrug it off in the face of his motionless figure, she speaks once more. “You can… Dilara sounds a bit weird. Lara is fine.”

—

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

wow....the past chapters made me completely forget jennie....which made me feel what dilara felt abt the whole thing !! my heart is broken BUT ITS CONFUSING ME BC I WASNT ROOTING FOR TAE?!?@??! AND NOW IM SO SAD BUT THIS IS AMAZING I LOVE THIS THANK YOU FOR MAKING MY MORNING YIPEE

Zandvoort (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: Somewhere in the dead of night, in a small town in Europe, Taehyung and Dilara succumb to their feelings.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Angst, smut

Word count: 13.3 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, heartbreak, mentions of minor (as in not very major) assault, masturbation, kissing, fingering, nipple play, blowjobs, oral sex, sex, rough sex, implication of injury (consensual)

A/N: This may be the last Taehyung fic for a bit so enjoy! Not going to say much else, but hope you guys like it. It starts a couple of days after So Many Signs.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @dreaming-with-happiness @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: “every other freckle” by alt-j

taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

There’s no Dutch Grand Prix this year. It’s disappointing for everyone in Red Bull, especially since Max was a sure shot winner, just like every year. In a move to seemingly placate everyone, a shoot has been scheduled in the Zandvoort circuit in the week between the Portuguese and Russian races to ensure that even if they aren’t racing in the Netherlands, they’re at least getting photographed there.

Dilara wakes up on Tuesday, feeling like a gentle monster that’s been slumbering for years and has finally awoken. She reaches for her phone on the nightstand to see three phone calls she’s slept through, and the local time to be a respectable half past nine. The curtains she made sure to open last night allow nice, soft rays of sunlight to stream in while giving her a peek of some clear blue Netherlands sky.

She stretches and bends her legs again, when she feels something sticky between her thighs. Eyes widening in horror and mind instantly doing some math, she shoves a hand down to her bare thighs under her oversized t-shirt and brings it back out, frowning. No blood. She rubs her thighs together once more, slowly, and like a light that’s been switched on, the dream comes back with a movie-like clarity.

Dilara sighs and drops her head back down on her pillow. Even a momentary recall of it makes her core throb. Before she knows it, her hand travels down her body again and into her underwear this time, another sigh escaping her lips when she dips two fingers to nudge her clit, already swollen and soaking. She shuts her eyes, grudgingly allowing more moments of the dream to come forward: Taehyung’s mouth on her neck, his hands on her breasts, his cock stretching her out… 

She starts moving her fingers faster, forcing herself to keep her moans as quiet as possible until she feels herself nearing that sweet, sweet high. She grabs the pillow and gasps when she feels it, arching her back and dropping her head when the orgasm takes rein, a breathless whisper of a name falling from her mouth.

Truthfully, Dilara isn’t all that surprised. Annoyed, yes, but ever since she kissed him three days ago, all she’s been able to think about is how much more she knows is there but can’t get. Strictly speaking, she’s quite sure she can if she asks, but no matter how sexually frustrated she is, she knows it’s a line she can’t cross right now. 

It’s a tough pill to swallow, so she washes up and heads to the kitchen, hoping that the presence of other people might help her forget. There isn’t a soul there, though, so she heads outside to the private stretch of beach and, with an enviable view of the North Sea on Zandvoort beach, she stretches. By the time she returns inside half an hour later, Seokjin, Yoongi and Jungkook are bustling around the kitchen. An incredible aroma of ramen fills the room and her stomach immediately rumbles.

“Pork belly?” Yoongi asks by way of greeting, brandishing a large slice of pink meat between a pair of metallic tongs.

“Uh, no, thank you,” she answers, taken a little off guard. “I’ll just have cereal.” Dilara intends to do just that but when Jungkook arrives to sit next to her at the table with a humongous serving of mouth-watering ramen, she’s forced to abandon her sad little breakfast and dives for his bowl with a pair of chopsticks.

While he’s initially rather generous, eventually he starts getting annoyed, whining for her to go get her own, elbowing her out of the way while she mutters at him not to be such a baby.

“Suga hyung will make more,” he insists, eyes wide and pained as he tries to wrestle a tiny piece of pork from between her chopsticks. “Get your - ugh, you’re strong - go get your own bowl -”

“I can’t,” she implores again, trying to avoid his giant arms and dip the meat in the soup. “I have a race this weekend, I can’t eat red meat - Jesus, Jungkook, are you serious?”

“It’s mine, and you’ve already had half of -”

“I had two bites, JK, don’t exaggerate -”

“You did not have -”

“What are we having?” Taehyung’s voice comes out from nowhere just when a hand appears from in between them. The familiar scent of lotion, a freshly laundered shirt and sleep overwhelms her and Dilara drops her chopsticks, the piece of pork falling into the bowl with a tiny splash. Jungkook takes this opportunity to snatch the bowl and bolt to the other side of the table, but not before Taehyung manages to snag the aforementioned piece of meat and pop it into his mouth.

“Gwaenchanha?” he asks her nonchalantly as he swallows. She nods and averts her eyes, not trusting herself to speak, and hoping he can’t tell how her heart is now racing faster than her car. Her dream featuring a naked Taehyung doing unspeakable things to her flits through her mind again and she automatically squeezes her legs together, wondering when on earth she became this pathetic about her ex-boyfriend.

It’s been like this for a while, unfortunately, ever since the kiss. The day after, which was race day, felt more exciting than it had in a long time. Dilara had also managed her first win of the year and the second of her career, and while she’d been hugged by every member of the Red Bull team and, later, all other members of BTS, Taehyung was the only one she realised she’d been looking for.

Dilara and the team had celebrated into the late hours of Sunday, followed by a couple of hours of sleep in total before she and the group had to wake up for their early morning flight to Paris, and then a train to Amsterdam. It was exhausting, to say the least, and since she was made to travel separately to Paris in order to not be photographed with the group, she’d hoped for some sleep on the flight, only to be thwarted by not one but two crying babies. 

The train ride, albeit with BTS, was bumpy as shit for some reason and the only sleep she’d managed to get was a half an hour nap with her head on Seokjin’s shoulder, the only member other than Yoongi who managed to sit still for longer than five minutes.

The entire time, though, a good fifty percent of her attention remained fixated on Taehyung sitting opposite her, how they caught each other sneaking glances before immediately turning away, how he offered to share the last remaining brownie with her, how when she woke up, she spotted him staring at his phone and started wondering if his lockscreen was still a picture of her. 

Now, when Dilara watches him saunter into the kitchen and peer over Jin’s shoulder at a pot on the stove, she can’t help but think about how nice their kiss was, how familiar and comforting it felt. It was tentative, hesitant - neither of them were sure of what was happening. But the underlying passion was there, she knows it was. It’s insane; she hasn’t been this physically attracted to him in months, where it feels like a world of pleasure is just out of her reach.

“Lara, your phone is ringing.” 

The name falls so effortlessly from his lips that it takes her a moment to understand why her heart is zooming. She walks up to the kitchen island in a trance, looking anywhere but at him. Out of the other three inhabitants of the room, only Yoongi seems to have picked up on it, if his amused frown at Taehyung is anything to go by.

Hurriedly, she picks up her phone to see Max’s name flash. “Guten tag. What’s up?” 

“What time are you reaching the circuit?”

“Um…” Dilara turns to look at a clock. “In about an hour?” She avoids Taehyung’s eyes. “You?”

“An hour?”

“Yeah, this house isn’t that close to the circuit. Why?”

“Still. An hour? Are you a racing driver or what?” he asks scathingly.

“Fuck you, Verstappen. I need longer to get ready,” she snaps, rolling her eyes when he grunts his approval. “Why are you in such a hurry anyway?”

“I’m not in a hurry,” he disagrees, and she can hear voices in the background. “I just don’t want to be the only one there. I can pick you up,” he offers.

“That’s… generous. Why?”

Max is quiet for a moment. “Because I need to avoid a meeting in Amsterdam?”

There it is. “And you’re hoping that if you show up with me, you can claim you have work and ditch.”

“I knew you’d understand. I’ll buy you a coffee, too. See you in forty-five.” The line goes dead.

Slowly placing her phone down, Dilara sighs. “Well, looks like I’m driving down to Amsterdam later today. Anyone want to come with me?” 

“We have to work today,” mumbles Jungkook forlornly, looking up with his huge doe eyes.

“We can go after,” suggests Hoseok, who’s also joined them. “Or tomorrow - Namjoon is going tomorrow,” he adds, pointing at the leader who’s trailing inside behind him.

“What?” Namjoon shakes his bangs out of his eyes, bleary-eyed. “Yeah, I’m going tomorrow. Kaya’s coming back from Brussels so I’ll probably stay the night at her place.”

“Kaya?” Taehyung’s eyes widen in surprise. “Bring her here!”

“Maybe the day after.”

“Yeah, they haven’t seen each other in months,” reminds Seokjin, grinning. “She won’t want to hang out with us tomorrow.”

“Wait, hang on, do I finally get to meet the famous Kaya?” Dilara asks, looking up at Namjoon, who shrugs.

“Depends. Can you stay back till Thursday?”

She deflates. “Unfortunately, my job gets in the way of that,” she mutters. “Guess I’ll just have to come down to Amsterdam by myself someday and meet her.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Dilara leaves soon after that, taking a quick shower and waving to the guys, all of whom are awake now and in the kitchen, prowling around like hungry animals when they see her go. 

It’s a long day of pure F1 PR, filming crazy sketches and doing a bunch of interviews with the AlphaTauri guys. By the end of it, after their detour into Amsterdam when Max drops her close to the house, the sky is already overcast. It’s nearly five pm when she reaches, frowning when she notices a crowd of people in the sandy backyard that extends further into the beach itself. She walks towards it, getting an inkling of what’s going on when she inches closer to hear a lot of laughter and chatter - in Korean.

Dilara stops some distance behind who she now identifies as BTS staff, around ten people behind a bunch of cameras to see the group. They’re dressed in colourful beachwear, playing what looks like some warped version of football with a beachball along with, for some reason, tennis balls also being flung and caught in the air. All the boys are shrieking and tripping over themselves before collapsing into laughter every ten seconds. 

She gives up instantly on figuring out the rules - the ludicrousness and the language both prevent her from doing so - but when Namjoon kicks the ball through the air with force and Taehyung lunges for it only to fall and take Jimin and Hoseok down with him, even she can’t control her laughter.

She stifles it immediately but a couple of staff members do end up spotting her. On the other side of the camera, Jungkook catches her eye and grins and when Seokjin yells at him to pay attention, she slinks away, still taken off guard at seeing Run BTS being filmed live.

Since this means the house is empty, Dilara opts for a nap in the quiet and sleeps like the dead, waking up only when the sky is dark and she hears voices in the house. The members are back - or at least Yoongi, Hoseok and Namjoon are in the kitchen. Taking this as her cue (and the gigantic lunch she had today), she goes to the home gym for a workout, emerging no less than two hours later, adequately sweaty and full of adrenaline.

She takes the long way round to the house; down by the beach with only the white suds visible where the waves crash on the sand. The sound is the most soothing one she’s heard in ages; before she knows it, she has halted on the spot, feeling the salty breeze on her cool skin and thanking the fact that it hasn’t rained today at all. She doesn’t open her eyes until she hears footsteps; turning to her right, she spots Jeon Jungkook jogging towards her, a headband holding his messy hair back.

“Lara!” he calls gleefully, giggling when she gives him a look. “What? Taehyung hyung’s calling you that, you know.”

“I do know,” she says shortly, trying not to let on how her heart skips a beat. “I told him he could. When you punch my ex for me, you can call me Lara, too.”

He grins. “Does Taehyung hyung count?”

“I’ll give you a hundred pounds to punch Tae in the face.”

Jungkook’s face twists into a forcefully suppressed smile. “You’re calling him ‘Tae’ too, I see.”

Cheeks feeling hot, she kicks some sand at him. “Shut up. It’s a force of habit.” When all he does is laugh, Dilara looks around at the lone volleyball net just for something to distract him. “What the hell were you guys playing anyway? I mean, that was for Run, right?”

He nods. “We had to kick the big ball to the other team and in between the rally, the person who caught the most tennis balls got extra points, but only if they caught it from the other team.”

“What if they caught it from their own?”

He considers it for a moment. “Then it’s points for the team.”

“But why would you throw it to the other team at all, then?”

“Because if they miss, you get a point.”

Dilara stares at him. “Are you sure about this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “I wasn’t even sure about this while we were filming. By the end of it, Namjoon hyung was just trying not to injure anyone while me and Jimin were seeing how many times we could make Jin hyung trip.”

“He’s so lucky to have you.”

“He is. No one else compliments his cooking like I do.”

“By eating it.”

“That’s right.”

Dilara chuckles. “He does cook well. As someone who can’t cook to save her life, I can appreciate it,” she says generously. Catching his raised eyebrow, she rolls her eyes. “Do not tell me that Tae and I make so much sense together. I must have heard it, like, fifty times.”

“You do, though,” agrees Jungkook anyway, sounding somewhat relieved that he isn’t the first one to think it. “For example, I’m sure you would’ve been just as frus- pissed off with today’s game as he was. Although you would’ve been better at it,” he amends.

“I’m sure I would have. In fact, I might just be better than you,” she provokes, smirking when he grins.

“I dare you.” Reaching for the portable shed a few feet away, he retrieves the beachball. “It’s just the two of us so we have to stick to this.” He throws the ball to her and she catches it easily.

“Alright, then. Let’s see if I can figure out this ridiculous game.” 

They move to opposite sides of the net and start kicking and knocking the ball over, but it becomes apparent fairly quickly that they can’t give a shit about the rules; they’re just rallying to see who drops the balls first, their common competitiveness emerging with gusto.

It’s not long before they’re joined by other people, though. About fifteen minutes into their make-believe volleyball, Dilara hears a familiar tinkling laugh and turns to see Jimin and Taehyung arrive, looking amused yet unsurprised at what they’re doing. She can empathise: she and Jungkook must look ridiculous, sweaty in workout gear, running around barefoot on the beach at night and tossing around a beachball like they’re in the Olympics.

Taehyung asks something in Korean and Jungkook nods, grinning. 

“Where are the tennis balls?” Jimin asks, still laughing. 

“There.” Jungkook points at the shed. “Oh, now we can play in teams!”

“Fine.” Dilara turns to Jimin and Taehyung. “JK’s better than me for now so whoever sucks more between you two can join him.”

“Oh, that’s Taehyung,” says Jimin automatically, clapping his shoulder before skipping over to her. She grins and gives him a high-five as she watches Taehyung saunter over to Jungkook, hands in the pockets of his tracks, face smooth and unimpressed.

“Okay, so it’s tall people against the rest,” declares Jungkook, making Taehyung laugh - and Dilara’s stomach does a backflip. They restart the game; if Dilara thought that the game between her and Jungkook was mindless, this one is on a whole new level. It’s hard enough to understand even the basics of this random game without the darkness making it harder to see and the lack of a referee to make impartial decisions. There’s a lot of insane running around and shrieks, mostly from Jimin, while Taehyung just stands around looking gorgeous and amused at how Jungkook and Dilara don’t let a single point go without arguing it to death. 

“Go, go, get it!” Jimin yells as a tennis ball bounces and rolls away into the darkness behind them and she sees Taehyung already running towards it. Not fully sure why, she runs, too, the sand making it harder - but she’s determined to stay in front of Taehyung. 

The makeshift volleyball court is no longer visible by the time the fluorescent green tennis ball comes to a stop. Dilara trips in the sand at the same time Taehyung lunges for the ball, and they tumble to the ground together. Desperate not to let him get at the ball, she pushes him down and straddles him.

Barely a second passes before her lips are on his and they’re snogging on Zandvoort beach, nothing but the night surrounding them. She threads her fingers through his hair, long and thick, shivering slightly when she feels his hands slowly run down her sides, his touch light and floaty. A cool breeze blows and his hands grab her hips, making her sigh involuntarily into his mouth, just before he flips them over.

Dilara gasps as she’s slammed into the soft sand and opens her eyes to see Taehyung hovering over her where he’s situated between her legs, gaze on her mouth as he bites his lower lip. Then, to her horror, he gets to his feet in one swift motion and winks at her, smirking as he shows off the tennis ball in his hand before running away.

By the time she reaches the backyard, it looks like the game is over. There’s some chatter, some in English and some in Korean, about the possibility of rain and sand on everyone’s clothes. Dilara can’t bring herself to pay attention; all she can concentrate on right now is how her heart is racing, how winded she feels, and how just the knowledge that Kim Taehyung is a few feet away is making her abdomen burn in a way it hasn’t in months.

Dilara can feel him looking at her, but for the sake of her own sanity and self-respect, she resists the urge to return his gaze. Her lips are still tingling when she steps into the shower and rinses the sand off her hair, watching the granules wash down her body and into the drain. 

The last time she and Taehyung were in a shower together was… last December, in Italy. He’d snuck up behind her while she washed her hair and had silently begun soaping her while she got hot and bothered all by herself, finally having to whisper to him to please, please put her out of her agony. 

She knew he enjoyed it, watching the effect he had on her, seeing how long it took her to succumb to him and beg him to make her feel good. It aroused him to no end, the feeling of being that desired. As for her, all it took was Taehyung.

It takes all her inner strength to resist fingering herself in the shower. Just before she’s about to step out, she turns the settings down so the water immediately changes in temperature from warm and steamy to lukewarm to positively chilly. It takes care of her problem for the time being, so she gets dressed and heads out to the kitchen.

Dilara runs her fingers through her wet hair, rummaging through the cabinets for some dinner, but mostly just to distract herself. She retrieves a box of cereal, contemplating.

“That’s your dinner?”

Like the chopsticks this morning, the box slips out of her hand in shock, spilling bits of cornflakes on the counter. “Christ, don’t - don’t sneak up on me like that,” she mutters, hating how her pulse has been on high alert all day.

Taehyung raises his eyebrows. “I walked into the kitchen. I’m standing, like, five feet away from you,” he points out, annoyingly correct.

The fact that he’s affecting her this much even from five feet away isn’t lost on Dilara, and it only gets worse when he casually walks up behind her to reach for a bottle of water and the smell of his lotion and shampoo engulfs her. 

“Fucking hell,” she whispers, putting a hand to her forehead. 

“Are you okay?”

“M-hm.” Dilara turns around to face him, leaning back against the counter. “I’m great. What about you?”

Taehyung smirks, and she knows all pretence is dropped. “Not bad. Did you have fun? At the game?”

“So much fun. Jungkook’s really good.” She pauses, waiting for him to slowly nod. “You’re not bad either.”

“Thanks. What time is your flight tomorrow?” This time, the playfulness dims slightly and she’s suddenly transported back to last year, to every time they had to leave each other.

“Um, six pm.”

“So you need to leave around… three?”

“Two… just to be safe.” Dilara fights a smile at his automatic pout which he immediately tries to hide. “Right after the shoot.”

Taehyung nods, not looking at her. “And, uh… Max is going with you, right?”

She gives him a look. “You know I travel all the time, right? I can take care of myself.”

His head snaps up. “What? No, of course, I - I know. I know you can,” he repeats, eyes softening slightly. “Just… you know, I’m concerned. As a - as a friend.”

“As a friend,” repeats Dilara, eyes widening, grinning when he chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re worried about me as a friend?”

“Okay, a little more than a friend,” he concedes, stepping closer and dropping his gaze to her mouth. The inadvertent admission makes her heart pound, becoming harder when he brings a hand up to her hair and grips a wet strand near her neck with two fingers. A bead of water squeezes out and lands on her thin t-shirt, just above her breast, immediately soaking through.

It’s slower but fully, unabashedly mutual this time, how they gravitate towards each other and their mouths meet. It’s more frantic, however, with their hands grabbing at each other - but it only lasts about five seconds until they’re interrupted once again.

“Should we have ramen?” Jungkook announces his arrival with an important question. “I can make some.”

Taehyung clears his throat as he steps away from Dilara, running a hand through his wet hair and looking appropriately frustrated. She gives him a warning look before turning to Jungkook, who’s now peering into the rice cooker. 

“Um… yeah, sounds good. Is it just us?” she asks, suddenly realising that she hasn’t seen the other four in hours.

“Hoseok hyung and Suga hyung went out for drinks,” explains Jimin, also appearing and smelling overwhelmingly of citrus, “and Namjoon hyung and Jin hyung went to Amsterdam so they’ll be late.”

“Kaya’s back?”

“No, she’s coming tomorrow. If she was here I don’t think Jin hyung would’ve gone…”

“Yeah, even he knows not to interrupt them after three months…”

The conversation continues as the smell of ramen fills the kitchen. Midway during the meal, Jimin gets a call from Hoseok, claiming that he and Yoongi are drunk and need a ride back. Dilara volunteers immediately, only to get drowned out by all three scoffing before she can even get all the words out.

“Excuse me?” 

“It’s the middle of the night. It’s not safe for you to go by yourself,” says Taehyung calmly, leaning back in his chair.

“It’s literally ten o’clock,” she points out, ignoring the sudden whoosh in her stomach. 

“Still late,” agrees Jungkook. “Just because you walked back this late on Saturday night doesn’t mean it’s always -”

“Wait - Saturday night?” Taehyung frowns. “When were you -”

“It’s not important,” she interrupts quickly, standing up and walking over to the bowl of keys on top of the fridge. It doesn’t seem important to tell him that the only way she could unwind from the whole Jaden incident was to go play FIFA with Charles and Lando at their hotel.

“I’m the only one out of us that hasn’t had anything to drink,” she reminds them. “And if it’s really bothering you that much, you can come with me, JK,” she offers, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt and pulling him up.

“Good idea,” pipes Jimin from his seat, not even pretending to get up. “I think both Hobi hyung and Suga hyung will have forgotten their English when they’re this drunk anyway.”

“Cool. We’ll see you in a bit,” she tells them, meeting Taehyung’s smooth, cold stare before the door closes behind her.

It doesn’t take too long to find them once Jungkook puts them on speaker, despite the screaming and giggling instructions from Yoongi and Hoseok respectively in Korean, just as Jimin predicted. The entire trip takes about an hour; by the time they get back to the house, Namjoon and Seokjin are back as well, both looking tired after a night out.

Jimin takes charge of Hoseok, in hysterics the whole time, while Namjoon volunteers for Yoongi, rolling his eyes. Seokjin follows them, cackling with Jungkook who’s holding up a camera and filming them. To no surprise of hers, Taehyung hangs back, leaning against the kitchen island.

“Hoseok and Suga have been very nice to me,” she explains after a few seconds. “I figured I could give them a ride.”

“You snuck out on Saturday night?” he asks, but doesn’t sound annoyed, just mildly exasperated.

“I didn’t sneak out, I went out,” she corrects him. “And, yeah. I went to hang out with Lando and Charles for a bit. In case you don’t remember, it was a pretty stressful night.” She stops a couple of feet away from him.

“Still not safe,” he murmurs, and she notices his fingers twitch at his sides.

“No,” she agrees. “Why? Were you worried about me? As a friend?”

Taehyung laughs self-consciously and lowers his head before meeting her eyes. “Little more than a friend,” he repeats.

The unexpected emotion in his voice catches Dilara off guard. She suspects their kiss on Saturday started it all, but kissing him on the beach today might have opened the floodgates to the heaps of unresolved feelings between them - starting with the most primal ones.

There’s no point thinking about it now, though, especially not when the house is bustling with drunk, unpredictable people who, as she remembers from Monterey last year, seem to have a thing for calling out PDA. Right on cue, Namjoon and Jimin appear and the moment’s gone, and eventually she mutters a goodnight and heads back into her room to pack for her flight to Sochi tomorrow. It’s not the best way to leave, she reflects as she zips up her suitcase, wondering if she’ll have to resort to her fingers and vibrator for the rest of the week.

Sleep is harder to come by than expected, especially when her mind seems stuck on one Kim Taehyung in bed elsewhere in the house, possibly in nothing but pajama bottoms and messy hair, mindlessly scrolling through his phone with long fingers that are capable of so much more. 

Dilara’s mind goes back to Saturday again, how they’d managed to sneak in a few moments of privacy because they’d bumped into each other in the middle of the night. It’s too much to hope for such a coincidence to occur again but given how sleep is evading her anyway, she climbs out of bed to at least take a sleeping pill, if nothing else.

She’s at the kitchen island, a half-full bottle of water in front of her, with no idea what the time is - she’s guessing late. 

“Did you drink all that?”

“Jesus!” Dilara whispers loudly, clutching her chest as she spots a tall figure come up behind her. “What are you - waiting for me?” When all she hears is a quiet snicker, she huffs. “For fuck’s sake, Tae, stop doing that.” 

She half-expects him to say doing what, but instead he’s silent for a moment. Then, she hears his voice right at her shoulder.

“Say that again.” Taehyung’s voice is soft, and Dilara shivers. Slowly, he places his hands on either side of her, his chest just brushing her back.

“Stop doing that?” she ventures, hearing her own breath hitch.

He shakes his head, his long hair grazing the side of her face. “No,” he says softly, lowering his head so she can feel his breath on her shoulder. “Say my name.”

Dilara closes her eyes, her hands curling into fists where they’re gripping the granite. The familiar scent of lotion and something that’s just so Taehyung is overwhelming to the point where her knees feel weak even with no physical contact, and she finds herself succumbing to her impulses, just like she had two years ago.

Cornered between him and the kitchen island, she leans back into his chest and feels him stiffen behind me. “Tae.” It comes out almost like a plea.

Taehyung lowers his head again onto her shoulder, his warm breath against the side of her neck. He softly presses his lips to her skin, in the hollow between her collarbone and her shoulder. He trails his kisses slowly upwards, warm and open-mouthed, until he reaches her earlobe. Grazing his teeth against the soft skin, he sighs.

“Your skin tastes like silk, you know,” he whispers, brushing her hair away, long fingers lingering on her shoulder. Dilara tilts her head to give him better access and he pulls at her earlobe with his teeth, making her gasp. “I’d almost forgotten…” 

He tugs the collar of her thin t-shirt away slightly, kisses becoming more fervent now. It’s like he’s revelling in torturing her, taking his time and ignoring how she’s breathing slow and deep.

As he sucks a mark above her collarbone, his left hand moves from her shoulder down to her chest and he pauses before gently squeezing her breast. Dilara gasps at the sensation and without thinking about it, she moves her hand up to cover his, encouraging him to go on. He hardens behind her, his erection resting firm against the small of her back. His lips don’t leave her neck as he moves his hand down and up her t-shirt, cupping her bra-covered breast.

“You’ll tell me to stop?” Taehyung asks, lips against the shell of her ear. He sounds breathless, raw - like he’s just about holding himself back with all his restraint.

Dilara nods, sinking back further into him. “Please don’t stop, Tae,” she whispers faintly, and at the sound of his name, his mouth finally finds hers. She snakes her arm around his neck to hold him in place, kissing him back with everything she’s got, pressing her tongue to his, tasting him, addicted to his flavour. His hips buckle slightly and she’s pressed up against the kitchen island and he yanks the cup of her bra down with a hiss before his fingers find her hard, erect nipple.

She moans into his mouth as he pinches it between his fingers, twisting it until she pulls away from the kiss to catch her breath. Her head resting back against his shoulders, she can feel his lips trail down her jaw eagerly before he finally drops his other hand from the counter and places it on her hip, gripping it and holding her pelvis against his.

Dilara reaches behind her to palm the tent in his pajamas and he groans softly, his left hand now moving across her chest and pulling the other cup down, too, massaging her breast. His right hand snakes down her hips and directly to between her legs, palming her suddenly. She whimpers out loud and he immediately pinches her nipple in warning.

“Shh,” he murmurs, voice deep and tight and velvety all at once. “Someone might hear you. What if they come out to see what I’m doing to you?” The way his erection twitches against her back, she can tell the prospect turns him on just as much as it does her.

“What if they see your fingers inside me?” Dilara prompts softly, hoping he’ll take the hint. “Let them see… I don’t care.”

With a quiet growl against her neck, Taehyung squeezes her core again and this time she bites down on her lip to keep from moaning out loud. “I can feel you soaking through your shorts, love,” he murmurs, pushing two fingers against her clothed clit. “How wet have you been getting for me all night?”

“So fucking wet…” Dilara answers in defeat, wanting more than anything to feel him inside her. “You’ve got me so fucking wet, Tae… please don’t make me wait any longer, baby…”

“You’re going to kill me, Lara,” he groans, slipping his hand straight into her underwear and into her dripping cunt, two fingers entering her straight away. She gasps and moves to fall forward but he holds her against him, and she can feel him watching her, watching her face as she comes unravelled. His thumb moves up to find her clit, swollen and pulsing for his touch. It takes everything in her to not cry out loud as his fingers move faster, slipping a third finger inside of her and stretching me out.

“Tae, I’m so close,” she whispers, and he moves his other hand from under her shirt to wrap around her waist and hold her steady. “Oh, God, I’m so close… don’t stop…”

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, Lara…” Taehyung murmurs against her temple, his fingers speeding up now. Her knees tremble as her orgasm washes over me, and his fingers slow down slightly to help her ride it out. She sinks back against him, her breath still coming out ragged as she vaguely registers how sub-standard her own fingers have been this whole time.

Taehyung’s lips brush against her cheek as he retrieves his hand and Dilara turns around on the spot, immediately capturing his lips in hers, kissing him like she hasn’t in ages. His arms are tight around her, holding her to him as they let their impulses take over. 

She reaches for the waistband of his pajamas and tugs them down before getting down on her knees, ignoring the sudden chill of the tile floor on her bare knees. Pulling his pajamas and boxers down slightly, she helps him slip his erection out, the tip already glistening with precum, making her silently groan at the sight.

Grasping him firmly and stroking him once, Dilara bites her lips when his breath hitches and his hands snap forward to grasp the kitchen counter. She reaches out with her tongue first, taking just his tip in her mouth before pulling away and spreading the precum down his shaft to lubricate it. Taehyung lets out another guttural groan, looking unbelievably beautiful from where she’s looking up at him, his neck long with two veins popping as he struggles to stay quiet. She has to consciously look away and back down at him, stroking him once more before taking him in her mouth. She takes him in as much as she can, running her lips along his length slowly as she holds his thigh with her other hand for support.

One of his hands reaches for her head and he buries his fingers in her hair, groaning softly when she moans around him. Mouth still on him, Dilara trains her eyes up to look at him and immediately freezes, an image tugging at her mind that makes her stomach drop. No. No. No, not now, please. But it’s too late; the image is there and she  knows she only has seconds before her mind takes over and the moment is ruined. She pulls away and drops his cock from her hand, registering vaguely how he looks down at her.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung’s voice is hoarse, but the concern sounds genuine. 

Dilara stands up and meets his eyes for a moment, and she thinks he can tell what’s on her mind because the passion in his expression starts to fade. Without thinking about it, she reaches up and kisses him, opening her mouth and pressing her body against his, silently begging him to make her forget. Taehyung takes a moment to catch on before he pulls her to him, brushing her hair back and devouring her, letting his hands run down her side and to her arse, squeezing it and pressing her pelvis to his as thunder roars outside.

Her core is starting to throb again; clutching his shirt and pulling him even closer, she nips at his bottom lip before she turns them around and starts walking backwards. Her back touches the door and he pushes it open, not breaking contact with each other for even a moment. Taking off her own t-shirt, she ignores his quiet groan and tugs on the bottom of his to make him take it off, before pushing him back down on the bed just as the rain starts pouring.

“Oof,” he groans softly, but makes no move to get up. “Where are you going?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbows; with his tousled blond hair, bare torso and visible erection in his boxers, he looks like the ultimate wet dream. 

Dilara strides over to her suitcase anyway, unzipping it to retrieve her toiletry kit perched on top, rummaging to find what she was looking for. Making her way back to Taehyung, she wordlessly tosses the condom packet on the bed before climbing on top of him.

She scrapes her fingernails down his torso, hearing him hiss and feeling his hand squeeze her arse. Rolling her hips forward, the friction of his bulge against her core is almost too much to bear, but she forces herself to rally. She moves down from his lips briefly down to his jaw, to his collarbones and the middle of his chest before shuffling lower and tugging his pajamas and boxers down his legs and tossing them on the floor.

“Lara, you don’t have to -” Taehyung’s voice is hoarse, a tight combination of desire and apprehension, but he’s cut off when she grasps him again and his words are replaced by a groan. His eyes find hers just before they flutter shut, and she can tell he knows that this is bigger than him, bigger than his preference for dominance; this is a challenge she cannot back down from.

This time when Dilara takes him in her mouth, she doesn’t hold back. She’s wet and sloppy, her tongue swirling around his head and touching the tip to the back of her throat. She knows it’s how he likes it and his raspy moans are enough to assure her that she hasn’t forgotten. It’s something else to see Taehyung in the throes of passion; he’s beautiful in the most ethereal way possible and Dilara is determined not to let a pathetic memory that isn’t even hers deprive her of it, because if there’s one thing she isn’t wired to do, it’s lose.

“Fuck, I’m -” 

Taehyung’s fingers tangle around her hair and he clutches at it. His hips buckle at the last moment and he spills into her mouth with a drawn out groan, and just the sound of it makes her stomach flip. Dilara swallows and releases him, leaving him semi-erect and straddling him again to see him breathlessly opening his eyes to look up at her. 

It’s almost as though he’s seeing someone else… or someone after a long time. She lowers her head to kiss him and he responds at once, running his hands up her sides and down her hips and thighs, grabbing at the flesh hard enough to leave bruises. She breaks away momentarily to sit up halfway and unhook her bra, barely tossing it aside before he rises to kiss her with a low growl. He slips one hand under the fabric of her shorts and squeezes her arse before spanking it.

Dilara gasps into his mouth and the next thing she knows, Taehyung’s flipped them over again just like he had at the beach a million years ago. In the momentary brightness from a crack of lightning, she sees his eyes dark and full of lust, his expression almost feral. The heat between her legs becomes unbearable as she pictures the things he’s about to do, as he cups the side of her face and tilts it up so he can suck a harsh mark right above her collarbone. She can’t help but moan out loud, especially when she feels his naked chest against hers and her soaked core against his pelvic bone. 

Mouth still at her neck, Taehyung brings one hand to her breast, massaging it and running his fingers over the hardened peak of her nipple. She bites down on her lip to keep from being too loud but it’s so hard when he’s teasing her like this; without thinking, she brings her own hand up to do what he won’t when he grabs it reflexively and pins it to the pillow next to her head. 

Taking care to meet her gaze, he moves his lips down her neck and chest, agonizingly slow before he finally reaches her nipple. He brushes his tongue over it and lets his teeth graze it until she squirms and blurts out, whimpering, “God, please, Tae!”

Dilara feels him groan against her skin. “I love hearing you beg,” he mutters, before finally taking her nipple into his mouth and sucking on it. Her back arches and she moans again, louder when his other hand squeezes her hip. He eventually lets it go, kissing every inch of her sternum with wet, open-mouthed kisses until he reaches the waistband of her shorts. Straightening up, he pulls them down along with her underwear in one swift movement, exposing her to the cool night and making her shiver in anticipation.

Taehyung groans as he lowers himself to come between her legs, holding her thighs apart as he views her dripping pussy for the first time in nearly a year. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he murmurs, a note of victory in his voice. He presses a kiss to her left knee before trailing his lips up her inner thigh, sucking small marks into the skin and taking his own sweet time until he finally, finally reaches her core. She knows what’s coming; how he’s going to drag this out until she’s a writhing, screaming mess, begging for him to make her cum. 

“So eager,” he observes, his mouth a hair’s breadth away from her arousal. Dilara can feel his breath on her and her toes curl on the bed, her hands clutch at the sheets. Taehyung kisses her outer lips and she whimpers again, but he barely seems to hear her. “God, I’ve missed how you taste,” he murmurs wistfully before running his tongue up her slit. She moans and drops her head back on her pillow as he, now unleashed, continues his assault on her pussy. 

Taehyung’s down there for what feels like forever, alternating between her clit and her core, using his lips, his tongue and his fingers to take her all the way to the edge before just bringing her back. “Tae, I wanna cum,” she cries eventually, pulling at his blond hair between her legs and running her foot down his bare back. “Fuck, Tae, you feel so good, I wanna cum, baby, please…”

Coming up slightly to suck on her clit again while one of his hands pumps two fingers in and out of her, Taehyung hums into her, and she hopes it’s a sign of agreement. The heat is bordering on painful now but she’s finally nearing her high and it’s so close - and then it washes over her and she shudders in an earth-shattering orgasm. He patiently lets her ride it out, slowing his lips but not detaching completely, helping her along until she’s in danger of being overstimulated.

“Tae…” 

She says his name and he crawls up, mouth and chin slick with her juices. Taehyung kisses her, his naked body completely covering hers as the rain continues to pour outside. Their hands are everywhere and Dilara can feel his erection come back, stiff against her hip. 

She knows Taehyung can go on for hours if he wants, changing positions, alternating between being on top and the bottom, going from gentle to ravaging depending on the mood. Dilara doesn’t know how long ago he fingered her in the kitchen - it feels like a lifetime away. Here, alone with him in the most raw, primal form as her hands shamelessly roam all over his torso, nails digging into his back as he sucks another mark above her breast, she’s lost all sense of time and space.

“Where’s the condom?” he whispers, lips right under her ear, voice so deep and calm that at first she isn’t even sure what he’s said. “Lara,” he says, slightly louder this time, nipping at her earlobe to get her attention. “Where’s the condom, jagiya?”

“It’s, um -” Dilara can’t form the words, so she reaches out with her right hand and pats the bed, hoping to feel the cold, metallic packet. 

“Got it.” Taehyung’s body disappears from on top of her and she opens her eyes to see him sit up with the blue packet in his hand. He rips it open and massages his length once before slipping on the condom. Dilara doesn’t know how much more her body can handle but she knows she wants this, so bad. 

“God, I can’t get enough of you, Lara,” he half-whines, bending to kiss her again as one hand snakes down her front between her legs to cup her. Her swollen clit brushes against his palm and she moans into his mouth, pulling away to catch her breath.

“I - I need -” But Dilara can’t find the words, even less so when Taehyung bites his lip above her, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and absolute, unbridled desire. He bends to kiss her passionately before gripping her hip and flipping her over. 

Taehyung stifles a low groan before pressing a kiss to her arse cheek, kneading the flesh before spanking it again. The suddenness of it makes her gasp and she clenches her walls just as he dips a finger into her folds.

Dilara muffles her groan into the pillow but Taehyung does no such thing, muttering "Fuck" as he moves his fingers up to her clit, already sore. His other hand runs up her body soothingly, coming under her to gently cup her breast and massage it until she’s soaking again.

"Tell me what you want, baby." 

She whimpers at Taehyung's classic question during sex, his power play, his insurance and her consent. He whispers it into her ear, lips brushing the silver ring piercing her helix and his chest pressed against her back, both damp and sweaty by now.

"I want you to fuck me, Tae," she murmurs, partly out of breath, knowing how much he'll love hearing that. "Please, please fuck me, baby…"

Taehyung’s fingers disappear abruptly and she whines into the pillow. A moment later she feels another hard spank on her arse cheek before he gently strokes the stinging area, groaning softly. Dilara pictures him stroking himself before she feels him grab her hips with both hands and raise it an inch off the bed.

“Spread your legs,” he commands softly, and the low, deep voice makes her shiver. She obeys and opens wider as far as her legs will allow her to, just before he slams into her. This time, she can’t bother stifling the sound of her moan and it doesn’t even seem as though Taehyung cares; his low, throaty grunts only get her wetter as he pounds into her and she props herself up on her forearms, vaguely aware of how her long hair is tangled down her shoulders and over her face.

“You’re so - God, you’re so… so fucking tight,” he murmurs, squeezing her arse as his rhythm increases. Taehyung’s big, probably the biggest she’s been with and even though she’s never expressly told him that, she’s sure he’s aware for every single time they’ve ever fucked since Japan, he finds a way to remind her. She whimpers as he stretches out her walls almost painfully, her arms giving out eventually so her front falls against the pillow.

Dilara feels him pull out and she wants to protest but she doesn’t think she can ever speak again. She feels his warm hand stroke her arm before he turns her around onto her back. Bending down to press a sweet kiss to her lips, Taehyung brushes her sweaty bangs off her forehead. “Sure you can keep going?” he asks quietly, his other hand resting on her hip.

Dilara can’t imagine saying no. Pulling him down to kiss him again, she nods frantically. “Yeah,” she whispers, catching her breath, “yeah, I want…”

Taehyung’s beautiful mouth curves into a smile and morphs into an expression of ecstasy as he sinks into her again. They groan together as he bottoms out, his balls brushing against her skin as he goes deep into her. She wraps her legs around his waist as he rolls his hips into hers, and she knows she’s close; she has about a minute, tops, before she comes undone once again tonight. 

“Harder, Tae…” Dilara gasps as he complies immediately, fucking her with all his strength. Her walls clench automatically and he groans loudly.

“Fuck, Lara, you’re gonna make me come so hard, baby…”

Her back arches and her sounds grow louder. She clutches at his shoulders, sinking her nails into the lean muscle. “Don’t stop, Tae, don’t stop…”

“You’re doing so well, Lara…” Taehyung’s grunts are louder now, mixing with her whimpers. “Fuck, Lara, I want to… fuck, I love you, I love you so much -” He lifts her right leg up and pushes her thigh into her chest, hitting her g-spot so sweetly that she knows she only has seconds. He goes faster now, apparently unaware of what he’s doing, what he’s saying…

“Tae, I’m -” Dilara’s words are cut off by an explosion again and she shudders, feeling every last speck of energy leave her. This orgasm lasts a bit longer; Taehyung slows down slightly and presses an open-mouthed kiss to her exposed neck. Dilara falls back against the covers, thoroughly exhausted and when she nudges his hip with her foot, he takes it as permission to resume.

“Lara, I’m close,” he mutters, thrusting into her once again before rapidly speeding up. He lifts his torso up to give himself more support and continues before finally groaning deep inside her. A couple more thrusts later, he drops his head onto her shoulder, turning slowly to kiss the side of her neck.

Taehyung’s weight feels so familiar, so comforting, so protective. Dilara brings her hand to the back of his head, exhaling silently at his low hum of contentment. He looks up then, face inches above hers. It’s overwhelming, this feeling. It’s just them; there’s absolutely nobody else in this moment, in this private, intimate moment. 

Dilara’s mind is still hazy and all she can focus on is Taehyung, his gaze, his large, soft eyes. She moves her hand slightly to finger the long, blond locks at the base of his neck, thick and damp, just as he lowers his head to kiss her once more.

It’s a short yet passionate kiss and when they pull apart, he rests his forehead against hers for a moment. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, almost shyly, as he lifts his head up. 

Dilara nods, a little self-conscious with the way he’s looking at her. “Um, I need to…” She glances in the direction she’s talking about and her heart flutters at the hint of a smile playing on his lips. Taehyung nods and pulls out of her slowly before rolling off onto his side. She clambers off the bed awkwardly, trying not to wince when she brings her legs together. 

Noticing the pile of discarded clothes on the floor, she decides against it, at the last moment opting to take the rumpled sheet off the bed and wrap it around her as she heads to the bathroom. She turns around to look at him before shutting the door to see him sitting up against the headboard, completely naked, watching her leave. When he notices her turn, he tilts his head back and smirks, making her stomach flip.

During her routine post-sex bathroom break, Dilara can’t help but finally acknowledge how much pain she’s in already - and how sore she’s sure to be tomorrow. Dully, she counts the number of hours she has left before she needs to get into the car again. It’s the wee hours of Wednesday by now, surely; that gives her a little over forty-eight hours to recover - which doesn’t seem impossible. When she stands up and faces the mirror, her silhouette is enough to tell her that her hair is tangled and messy beyond repair which means she has no recourse but to wash and condition it before the shoot tomorrow.

Sighing, Dilara picks up the sheet and loosely wraps it around herself before opening the door to see Taehyung sitting on the edge of the bed, just his pajamas on, elbow resting on his thigh as he scrolls though his phone. When he hears her, he looks up and a shy smile spreads across his face as he stands up to walk over to her. The rain has stopped and the sky has lightened marginally; it must be nearly dawn, she realises.

“Are you okay?” he asks, stopping a decent couple of feet away from her. Despite the intense, long-lasting sex, the thought of his honey-coloured torso within arm’s reach does things to her. She forces herself to look up at his face, and her heart stutters. She remembers then that he’s asked her something.

“What? Oh, uh, yeah.” Dilara shrugs awkwardly. “It’s just… you know. It’s been a while.” She bites her lip, trying to suppress a small smile. “You haven’t changed. Still got the stamina of an athlete.”

Taehyung grins. “Thanks. You haven’t changed either. Flexible as always,” he adds, winking when she rolls her eyes. He looks incredible; in the faint light from the window, his face is illuminated in a silvery blue glow. Draped in nothing but a sheet she’s clutching to her chest, she suddenly feels very small in front of him.

“Is your hand okay?”

He glances at the back of his right hand, his knuckles still an angry red. “A lot better. I tried to use this one as less as possible.”

“You messed up my hair,” she chides softly, nudging his shoulder. 

Taehyung shrugs, reaching up to smooth her hair. “You still look beautiful. And it didn’t seem like you were complaining,” he adds after a moment, smirking slightly. “Or is that what all the noise was?”

“Shut up,” she mutters, feeling her cheeks heat up. “Shit, I’m sure everyone heard us,” she groans, falling against the doorframe before straightening up.

“Maybe,” he says, sounding rather indifferent. He takes a small step closer. “I don’t really care.”

Dilara says nothing to that, knowing he’s just being honest. There are some things that would embarrass most people, but Taehyung genuinely does not care about them. Being loud during sex is one. She wonders if confessions during sex is another. His gaze is too intense, too adoring for her to believe he said it in the heat of the moment. He meant it, she’s sure, and while there’s a part of her that’s ecstatic, there’s also the part that’s more wary than ever, for she isn’t sure she can give him what he wants this time.

He’s close enough now that the kiss is no surprise. It’s soft and gentle - the complete opposite of what just transpired on the bed. He raises one hand to lightly rest on the side of her face, but otherwise they stay where they are. His lips mould so perfectly with hers; there’s none of that hesitance that was present the night she kissed him in Portugal. It’s comfortable and familiar, to the point where she can’t fathom how she went so long without it, and worse, how she can continue without it.

They break apart mutually. Taehyung drops his hand and swallows. “Do you want me to stay?” he asks hesitantly. 

Dilara can tell now that this has been on his mind since the moment they were done. Evidently he wasn’t able to decide if she’d want him to stay or leave and he presumably didn’t want to pressure her either way, which was why he got half-dressed. She also appreciates that he asked her if she wants him to stay and not if she wants him to leave, knowing it’s harder to answer the latter than the former.

She bites her lip, continuing to meet his gaze. “I’m not ready,” she admits finally.

Taehyung nods, looking as though he’d expected this. He brushes her cheekbone with his injured knuckle before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. She tries not to lean into it too much and resists the urge to turn her head and kiss him back. “I’ll see you in the morning, Lara,” he murmurs, stepping back. “Sleep well.”

Dilara nods as he steps further back and slips on his t-shirt before ruffling his hair. Giving her a small, reassuring smile, Taehyung exits her room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

—

Dilara limps into the kitchen the next morning, hoping to be completely invisible. She doesn't make eye contact with anyone, fortunately sidling in in the middle of a joke being told in Korean. Jimin, who's the one doing the narrating, seamlessly greets her mid-sentence before delving back into his story. She isn’t even sure who else is in the room; it's only some of them… but Taehyung is definitely one of them.

She bustles around as quietly as she can, procuring milk and cereal. When she turns around to retrieve a bowl, she sees Jimin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jungkook and Taehyung in the room, all laughing at whatever story Jimin is relaying. She hears her name then and it takes her a second to realise Jungkook is speaking to her because he automatically starts off in Korean.

"Huh?"

"Sorry - are you okay?" Jungkook frowns, looking concerned.

Dilara smooths down her hair as a reflex. "Yeah… why wouldn't I be?"

"You're limping," he points out innocently and she instantly wants to die. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Dilara almost chokes. "No, it's just… uh, period cramps," she lies, knowing that it's a topic uncomfortable enough that Jungkook won't probe. 

Predictably, Jungkook goes red. "Oh, you can - I mean, I have -" He stutters, looking around at his older members desperately. "... Ibuprofen," he mutters eventually.

"Thanks, Jungkook." She hopes the topic dies there but unfortunately, she catches Hoseok frowning as well. "What?"

"It looks like an injury," he states, tilting his head. "You were opening up your hips just now," he says and she realises in horror that he's right. "Did you go to the gym yesterday?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did. It's possible I could've… yeah, maybe." Dilara deliberately doesn't look in Taehyung’s direction, mostly because she’s quite sure what he looks like. Pride and concern would be the top expressions, mixed with just a bit of wariness at the questioning.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows in an expression that indicates he believes her, but it’s taking him a hell of an effort to do so. Her eyes finally go to Taehyung, who’s sitting cross legged on the floor, fiddling with what looks like one of Jungkook’s action figures. His mouth twitches for a moment before it goes blank.

“Namjoon hyung,” he calls, interrupting Hoseok who was surely about to ask another question. “What time do we have to be at the location?”

“A couple of hours, actually. Jimin and Jungkook - you two need to go live before that,” he reminds them. This is followed by Jimin whining in Korean and additional chatter, successfully taking the attention away from Dilara as she’s left alone to finish her breakfast. Namjoon must have told them all to get ready, for they mill around the kitchen and eventually start trudging inside one by one.

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Dilara washes her bowl and spoon when Taehyung joins her. “I can do that,” he says softly, holding up a dry cloth and taking the bowl from her. She lets him, watching as he dries it and stacks it inside the cabinet.

“Thanks.”

He gives her a small smile that holds far more than it should. She’s reminded of his inadvertent confession last night, how he’d said it loud and clear, and averts her gaze.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung asks, lightly touching the small of her back. It sounds different from the way Jungkook asked her.

Dilara nods. “It’s not too bad. I’ll be fine,” she adds. “Are you okay?” she asks after a moment, part playfully.

“Me? I’ll be fine,” he says seriously. He touches a wavy strand of hair that’s fallen out of her makeshift bun. “Do you need to wash your hair?”

“Wash, detangle, brush,” she informs him, giving him a look. “It’s going to be a pain.”

“Mhm. Does that mean you regret it?” he asks, his voice a bit smaller. “Last night?”

Anyone with half a brain cell could tell he isn’t asking about her hair. Dilara considers it, images of last night flashing through her mind. Every touch had been electric and their spark had gone nowhere. Despite everything, he elicited feelings of pleasure and ecstasy like no one else ever could, and still made her feel like she was the only person in the world after it.

“No,” she admits, a bit hesitant. “I don’t.” A moment passes where she doesn’t look at him. “What about you? Do you regret it?”

Taehyung exhales softly. “A little bit.”

Dilara’s heart drops. Swallowing, she looks up at him, wondering why, after everything, he would… He returns her gaze with the same smooth, impassive expression. It takes her another moment of observing his face before her own relaxes, and she smacks his shoulder with the back of her hand.

Taehyung winces and grabs his arm, laughing as she walks away in a huff. “What? You know my answer,” he calls after her, still chuckling when she doesn’t respond. “I’ll see you at the shoot?”

“Shut up, Kim,” comes her voice from inside, just before she shuts her bedroom door behind her.

The shoot is located close to the house; yet, they still only make it in the nick of time. Dilara, who had been requested to travel separately so as to not attract attention by arriving with BTS, is already at the location, getting  a coffee with Max.

“Someone looks happier,” comments Max, gesturing towards the group as they trundle in.

Dilara follows his gaze, predictably landing straight on Taehyung, looking unreadable as ever, with half his face hidden behind gigantic sunglasses. “Does he look happier?” she asks, frowning.

“Well, he looks less depressed than he has since September.”

It’s true; she watches as he saunters in, hands in his pockets, and surveying the location coolly. Then he takes off his sunglasses and squints slightly before looking right at Dilara, and his face breaks into a smile. Dilara averts her gaze immediately, suppressing a smile of her own, and ends up facing Max.

“Ah,” he says deliberately after a moment. “I see.”

“Don’t,” she warns him.

“We’ve really come a long way from the fashion show, huh.”

“Max.”

“No more of that responsibility to get you nice and drunk so you can forget,” he remembers fondly.

“Shut up.”

“Not when you have all the privacy to rekindle that Suzuka romance - not to mention do whatever you -”

“Max Emilian Verstappen!” Dilara exclaims, loud enough that a few people turn to look at her while Max guffaws into his coffee cup. “Are you done?” she hisses. “This is a work setting. There are professionals here - can we save the teasing for the long-ass flight to Sochi?”

Max waits patiently for her to finish. “You have a hickey the size of a rock on your neck.” With that, he waves to her and walks away.

Predictably, Dilara’s first stop from there is hair and make-up, determined to have the incriminating mark covered up before anyone else sees it, especially one of the guys. She doesn’t believe Taehyung would tell them about last night - bragging has never been his style - but with the embarrassing questioning this morning and the hickey? It would be obvious as hell and Dilara doesn’t think she can take Jimin’s reaction to it today.

Thankfully, there’s no one in there. She snags a bottle of concealer and does a rather shoddy job of covering up the hickey, but she doesn’t care. It’s better than the looks the make-up artists are sure to give each other and she’s just thankful that none of the other hickeys on her body are in visible places.

Fortunately, no one else spots the hickey. The shoot commences, everyone in AlphaTauri sporting gear and posing around cars and bikes and other equipment. Dilara is so relieved at the normalcy that even being the only person in a sports bra in the chilly weather, while the others pose in jackets and t-shirts, can’t dampen her mood. 

By the end of it, an old familiar feeling starts creeping back, a disappointment she later identifies as not wanting to leave. BTS aren’t flying to Russia with her and Max and while that had seemed like the highlight of the calendar back in August, it feels like the dark spot in the improving relationship between her and Taehyung.

He feels it, too, she knows. He approaches her when she’s at the food cart, longingly looking at the tray of doughnuts and resisting the urge to scarf one down. 

“They won’t kill you,” comes Taehyung’s voice, and he stops next to her. “The blueberry one is the best.”

Dilara raises an eyebrow. “You’ve had it?”

“Oh, no,” he says, shaking his head. “It looks like it would be the best. Besides, you like blueberry, no?”

“Yeah, but…” She sighs. “It’s way too much sugar. Is there such a thing as a sugar-free doughnut?”

“Yes, it’s called sadness.”

Dilara laughs, biting her lip and looking up at him. Fuck, he looks incredible. “Split one?”

Taehyung frowns, considering it, before looking out at where the stylists are. “As long as they don’t rat me out.”

“To who? Your staff?”

“No, Namjoon hyung.”

She stifles another laugh, her gaze going straight to where Namjoon is sitting on the grass with Jungkook and - to her mild surprise - Max. 

“So? You want to split it? We’ll have to be smart about it, though.”

Dilara looks back up at him, contemplating. His eyes twinkle, and she fights a smile. Reaching over, she grabs the doughnut and breaks it into rough halves while Taehyung grabs a couple of napkins. Like school kids sharing a secret, they turn their backs on the shoot and, silently acquiescing, they start walking away.

Start, being the operative word. Before they’ve taken maybe five steps, two stylists come bounding up to them. “Oh, Tae, they need you for another shot,” says the one with the blue tips in her hair. Before Dilara can register the Tae, her eyes drop to his hands and her eyes widen. “You said you couldn’t eat sugar!” she exclaims, lunging for it as Tae moves it out of her reach, grinning.

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” Dilara interrupts. She ignores Taehyung’s frown as the girl looks at her, as though she’s just noticed he’s not alone.

“Oh, it’s Rhiannon. Like the song?” she prompts.

“Yeah, I know Fleetwood Mac. Listen, Rhiannon, do you mind -”

“Oh, look, they’re calling you again,” she says loudly, turning back to Taehyung and pointing over his shoulder to the photographer.

“I’ll take that.” Seokjin’s hand appears out of nowhere and grabs Taehyung’s doughnut, making him groan, but the director calls out his name this time so he has no choice but to leave. As Seokjin swallows the doughnut whole before sauntering away, Dilara feels a pit of rage in her stomach. 

“Are you going to eat that?”

She jumps, turning around to see Min Yoongi behind her, looking irritatingly knowing. “Where did you come from?” she demands, clutching at her chest. “Oh, you brought Jimin, too,” she notes, as the younger member comes into view, grinning, in her opinion, for no reason at all.

Suddenly conscious of how annoyed she must be looking, Dilara makes an excuse and hurries away, taking care to stay away from all members for the rest of the shoot. It’s just as well, she thinks, for she doesn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea - least of all, herself.

It’s the reason she goes back to her changing room alone at the end of the shoot, considering simply texting Taehyung goodbye. A verbal goodbye could be too much and would very much be in the wrong idea category, not to mention would haunt her for the rest of the weekend, a time when her focus should be nothing but the race. Her suitcases are already in the car, as is Max, who’s begun texting her to hurry up.

Dilara is packing up her bag when a sound, once again, almost makes her jump. When she spots the speaker in the corner of the trailer, she relaxes, guessing it must just be one of the microphones causing a disturbance. 

“... really good shots,” comes a male voice, crackling through the speaker. “Campaign’s going to look epic.”

“Great for your resume,” replies another, a girl this time. “Although it’s greatest for whoever shot this guy,” she adds.

Someone else whistles and there’s some snickering. “That would be me,” says a second guy. “He’s fantastic - it’s the least direction I’ve ever had to give talent. He’s a dream to work with.”

“Who are we talking about?” This voice is familiar. Rhiannon. Like the song?

“The dude in the red jacket.”

Dilara pauses, for there was only one dreamy dude in the red jacket - and she’d spent the night with him. It’s clear that one of the microphones has been accidentally left switched on and if she can hear everything in her trailer, the group can definitely hear it in their much larger trailer. She pauses to listen, already amused as she pictures Taehyung’s bashful smile as the others tease him.

“Oh, yeah. I checked out his Instagram,” says Rhiannon. “Some really aesthetic shit. Whoever’s taking pictures of him has the easiest job in the world.”

“Hey!”

“No, I’m just saying. He looks unreal. Whether it’s his girlfriend or whoever - she kind of hit a jackpot. Wait, Jack - what are you doing?”

“Checking out who this lucky person might be,” answers Jack, presumably. “There’s no way someone who looks like that is single.”

Something creeps through Dilara’s stomach, a feeling of foreboding. This isn’t going the way it’s supposed to.

“Knew it. Jennie Kim. Dating BTS V,” says Jack after a moment.

“Rumoured to be dating him,” pipes up someone else. “And the article is six months old.”

“So? Seems pretty plausible to me. I mean… look at her.” Jack exhales. “She looks like a natural. Damn, do you know who’s representing her?”

“Wait - Jennie Kim,” says one of the girls. “Says here she’s - oh, man, I knew I’d seen her somewhere. She’s brand ambassador for Chanel.”

There’s some noise as everyone presumably looks at a picture. The self-preserving part of Dilara tells her to leave, now, but her feet stay rooted to the ground.

“Makes sense,” confirms Rhiannon. “Jesus Christ, they’d make some gorgeous babies.”

“Jumping the gun a bit?” The first guy says. “It’s a rumour from a million years ago. Personally, I think he has a thing for Komyshan?”

“Dilara Komyshan? From today? Really?”

“Yeah, he kept looking over at her. Why? What’s wrong with her?”

“Dilara’s hot,” says the second girl. “She drives cars, dude.”

“Nothing is wrong with her!” Rhiannon exclaims. “She’s my favourite driver. I’ve been rooting for her all season - I screamed all over Twitter on Sunday when she won in Portugal. She’s just…”

There’s a snicker. “This should be good.”

“She’s more… real. Natural.” Rhiannon audibly hesitates. “And he’s…”

There’s a few seconds when no one can come up with an unoffensive word, while everyone including Dilara knows exactly what Rhiannon means.

“K-pop,” finishes Jack, sounding somewhat apologetic. “They’re kind of a different league,” he adds.

“A Jennie Kim kind of league. Do you know if your friend - what’s his face -” Someone clicks their fingers. “Damien. Do you know if he’s still on contract with Chanel?”

“Doubt it. That was a year ago. I can still check, though…”

Dilara can’t hear anything else. There’s a roaring in her ears and her chest feels as though it’s about to constrict, cutting off all air supply. It’s too much, too many words, too many truthful, honest words that have lived in her mind for the better part of a year… words that haven’t ceased to be true, no matter how desperate she’s been to repress them.

Her eyes land on the speaker again and she knows she has to leave immediately because if she can hear everything in her trailer… Taehyung can definitely hear everything in his much larger trailer.

The car is just outside the gate. Dilara hurries as fast as her feet will take her, her chest painfully heavy with humiliation and shame. Last night had felt like stepping back into a time machine to a less complicated time; there was doubt and hesitation, but the passion made up for it. Now, it fills her with disgust, the memory of it, how openly and fervently she’d given herself to him, how after everything, she’d still let herself be that vulnerable before him.

Dilara is surprised to hear herself sniffle but less so when she hears footsteps behind her. She doesn’t bother turning around; it doesn’t matter who it is, even if it is Taehyung, even if he is coming back to explain himself once again, like every other -

“Lara -”

“Don’t touch me,” she snaps, yanking her hand out of his. Her anger wavers for a moment when she sees his face change, first from apology to confusion, and then to shock. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting her to react this way. “Just - just leave me alone,” she says tightly. She turns to leave, not trusting herself to speak any longer.

“Lara, no.” Taehyung stops her, shuffling to stand in front of her. Over his shoulder, she spots the car that’s supposed to take her to the airport. “No, no , no…” He searches her face frantically, the fear spreading across his beautiful features. 

Dilara says nothing. It’s too much, everything she’s heard, everything she's starting to remember. Max’s words come back: We’ve come a long way from the fashion show. The fashion show, where she’d thrown up in the bathroom at the sight of him, cried tears of frustration to Max and done everything in her power to avoid Taehyung.

“Lara, please. You - you can’t listen to them. You can’t possibly believe what they’re saying -“

“Oh, my God,” she whispers, dropping her head in her hands. “Oh, God, what have I done?” She takes a shaky step back, her stomach churning painfully. “We had sex - oh, my God!”

“Baby, listen to me -“

“Do not call me that,” she interrupts him. “Why should I listen to you? Huh? So you can fucking charm your way into my life again?” she demands, pushing him back. “You just - you just look pretty and say the right things and I just… forget everything you did?” Because that’s exactly what I did.

“No! God, Lara - they’re strangers!” Taehyung exclaims desperately. “They have no idea what they’re talking about! They don’t know us! Come on, please - please don’t let them ruin everything. Please.”

“They didn’t ruin everything,” she snarls, turning to walk past him when he stops her again.

“I love you,” he blurts, and Dilara freezes. “I - I love you, Lara. I do, so much,” he repeats, his voice trembling. It’s not an accident this time. “We’ve made it so far, baby,” he says urgently, pulling her closer by the arms. “Please don’t do this.”

Dilara swallows, her heart hurting. Taehyung looks… he looks anguished. Somewhere, she knows how he feels, the thought of every single shaky piece they’ve built up crashing down around them again. A part of her wants to agree with him, just to have those moments back; the laughing and the flirting and the feel of his naked body against hers.

But she can’t. It would be tainted, and she would spend every minute second-guessing herself, reliving those awful weeks she’d spent comparing herself to another woman, imagining all the things she’d probably done wrong to deserve this. She meets his gaze again, wishing she could go back to this morning again.

“Lara?”

He loves her. That much she believes. But it’s nowhere near enough right now.

Dilara sniffs and pulls out of his grip, gentler this time. “I - I need to go to Russia. My flight is in a couple of hours.”

“What about -“

“I don’t know. I have no idea, Taehyung,” she says quietly. “I think…” Dilara sighs as she realises it’s finally the time to do what she’s been considering for a while now. “I need space. We need space.”

Taehyung swallows. “Just space?” he asks, and even through the hurt, she can hear the skepticism in his tone.

“Yeah, I - I can’t be around you. For a while,” she adds when his face drops. “You know I’ll see you in Tuscany anyway,” she says in a low voice.

He nods silently, biting his lip. 

Dilara exhales shakily and hitches her bag higher on her shoulder. “It’s just too hard, Tae. This… this might be a good thing,” she says, taking a step backwards.

Taehyung looks at the ground, seeming resigned. “Fly safe,” he says hoarsely.

She nods and starts to turn away, when he speaks again.

“Can I -” He sniffs, still looking beautiful in his sadness. He’s a dream. “Can I call you?”

Dilara wishes he wasn’t making her say this. Stay strong, Komyshan. 

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

—

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

Ru Ru! Congrats on the milestone! 🥳 So many of these prompts are tempting but here goes: Taehyung, artist AU, unrequited, falling into the other's arms and "are you serious?"? 👀✨ (and don't hold back on the angst, I want the pain)

~summary: Taehyung loves you, just not the way you love him. ~artist au, angst, unrequited love ~word count: 945 ~rating: g ~warnings: pain D:

~a/n: whyyy aj😭😭I tried to give you pain, but it hurt me too XD.. but thank you so much for your request, I hope you ...like? it?? hahaha💜love you lots x also, I’m using this as my entry for the ‘kim taehyung’ square at @bangtanwritingbingo  ➔this drabble is part of my pick & mix drabble game which is still open if you want to request!!

“Oof!”

You barely got a glimpse at your friend before he was barrelling towards you and collapsing into your arms. Stumbling back a step from the impact, you did your best to hug him back without spilling the drinks in your hands.

“It’s finally finished,” Tae groaned, low voice rumbling against your shoulder.

Trying to ignore the thrill it sent through your heart, you patted him on the back

“I knew you could do it.”

Pulling away, Tae met your eyes at last. Just for a moment, he was all too close – the wind had flushed his cheeks and stirred up his scruffy hair. The smile he flashed as he prised his hot chocolate from your fingers left you breathless.

You told yourself you shouldn’t stare, but all the same it was impossible to take your eyes off him as he closed his eyes and took a sip, humming contentedly at the taste.

“You always get my order right,” he told you.

You swallowed hard as his fingers circled your own, lightly pulling you along with him.

“I’m not the one who made it,” you protested, “and where are we going?”

“To the exhibition, of course.”

You raised your eyebrows. Taehyung had been locked up in either his studio or the gallery preparing this exhibition for a while, but you still hadn’t expected to see it so soon.

“Isn’t the opening at the weekend?”

“Yeah… I’m bringing someone…”

He wouldn’t meet your eyes as he spoke the words that made your heart drop every time. You should have expected it, you thought as he scratched the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable.

A while ago, you had told him you liked him. Liked him as more than a friend. And as much as you each tried to pretend, things had never quite been right since.

He hadn’t felt the same.

He still went on dates, still only let you as close as best friends did. Somehow, that was worse. You knew he wanted you to move on, but how were you supposed to do that when he was still right here in all his smiling beauty, holding your hand, even if it didn’t mean the same thing to him?

“But I wanted you to be the first to see it,” he quickly assured you, moving on as if he hadn’t just shattered your heart again. You didn’t blame him for that. Maybe not mentioning it helped him forget, helped him pretend.

If only you could be as lucky.

Offering the strongest smile you could when your chest felt so cold and empty, you soon hid yourself by downing a few gulps of coffee. The warm liquid tasted sickly on your tongue, sat heavily in your stomach.

Somehow, you had already arrived. The gallery wasn’t big or modern, but Tae had still been super excited when they had contacted him.

Proudly showing you his access card, he opened the door, allowing you in first. Already, you missed the joyful crease of his eyes as it left your line of sight.

You would prefer to let your eyes linger on his happiness than on these hallways which you knew would soon be filled with people, Taehyung weaving through the crowds with someone else by his side.

At last, you reached the space where he had set up his exhibition. As you stepped inside, you pushed down those thoughts in favour of admiration. The space truly left you spellbound, seeing your best friend’s work on the walls making pride swell within you.

By your side, Taehyung eyed you. He was practically bouncing on his feet as he waited for your approval.

Casting your eyes over the space, you saw a few paintings you recognised, and some that were clearly new. All were in his signature style, bold colours but somehow with a subtlety that drew you in.

And then your breath caught in your throat.

Was that-?

No. You cursed the way your stupid heart swelled, just like it did every time you thought there might be hope. Offering itself up to be broken just the same every time.

Seeing where your eyes had landed, a smile lit up Tae’s face.

“Do you like it?”

You stared at the painting, then back at him. You had to gulp down tears, but your voice was thick when you spoke.

“Are you serious? You painted… me?”

The portrait was perfectly recognisable, you just had trouble believing it. It was beautiful, and you even remembered the place it was based on, some woods you had got lost in together a couple of summers ago.

To think that Taehyung had taken the time, his own hands mapping out your features perfectly, breathing his own life into them with vivid colour, even painting the light that shone through your hair. It looked like the way he made you feel. Alive, lit up. And here it was, captured on a canvas for all to see.

You hadn’t even noticed the tears welling in your eyes until Tae’s finger brushed one from your cheek.

Startled, you looked at him. His eyes were so wide and innocent. Curse him and his endless love, giving you hope. Curse the fact that love would never be yours.

“I take it these are happy tears?”

Blinking rapidly, you just nodded. There was no way could explain everything you were feeling. This was Tae’s project, it was supposed to be about him. You would support him the way you always did, no matter if it hurt. Bringing him down was the last thing you wanted.

“You’re important to me, of course I wanted you in here,” he continued, “you’re my best friend.”

And his words were sincere, but they weren’t enough.

Thanks for reading! Did you enjoy the pain?🤣if you want more hurt, or some fluff to ease the pain, come and make a request💜

taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine @un2-verse @taegularities 

little and the beast

member: kim taehyung

category: ddlg, smut, fluff

word count: 3.6k

warning(s): daddy dom!taehyung, little sub!reader, cursing, mention of safe word but not used, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), consensual sex, rough sex, ddlg, degradation, begging, biting, scratching, bondage, hickies, breast play, spit play, spanking (pussy and breast), orgasm denial, creampie, aftercare

note(s): i...am sorry of how long this took to be published. life was very hectic and i didn't have the chance to finish writing this until just now. it's not my best work but i hope you enjoy it!

You're his beloved girlfriend, and Taehyung loves both sides of you: big and small. But one day, he comes home to find you breaking one of your rules. Now Taehyung has no choice but to punish you for disobeying him.

Three rules.

One: Never touch yourself without Daddy's permission.

Two: Instead of throwing a tantrum, politely ask for things you want or like.

Three: Always use your safe word if you feel uncomfortable or not safe.

These are the rules Taehyung set in place for you after you revealed you're a little. Of course, it took time to grow accustomed to, since he was unsure how to exactly care for you, but he figured it out over time. For example, when you're in little space, you have different mannerisms and habits, like throwing ridiculous tantrums over nothing and babbling away while you play with your stuffed animals and color. You also dress in cute, frilly dresses and clothes, making you the adorable, little darling he's grown to love. When you're not in little space, you're the Y/N he's most familiar with, a sassy and intelligent girl.

You often switch between your head spaces without warning, so much you give him whiplash, but he easily accommodates to your wants and needs. It's his job as your caretaker and your boyfriend to love and cherish you the best he can in both states of your mind.

Thankfully, you remember your rules.

While Taehyung likes your normal personality, he loves it when you're little, loves your clinginess and the way you talk to him like a little girl and ask him to do things with you, like color or watch you play dress up. He feels a sense of power and authority over you, not only as your boyfriend, but as your caretaker. Even more so when you're wet for him, begging for his cock on your knees, wearing his favorite collar and dress.

And since you don't really understand sex when you're little, Taehyung refers to it as 'playtime,' and it mostly occurs in his bedroom or studio, where you often come to him and seek some form of relief. It's one of his favorite things, seeing you plead for him to assist you with your arousal, an uncomfortable bubble in your belly.

Whenever he comes home hard from work, adrenaline and stamina still pumping through his veins, he often finds you and fucks you, and you submit to him. He adores hearing your squealing and crying as he uses you like a cumslut, your precious cunt his heaven and hell. You make him feel so good yet so dirty, allowing him to fuck you whenever and wherever he desires, although you do deny him sometimes when you're not little. But when you are, you instantly become wet and go face down, ass up, one of his most beloved positions.

Today is one of those days when Taehyung arrives home hard, his cock pounding in his sweats. All he could think of during practice was last night, where you rode him for the first time like he was a pony. The image of your tits bouncing and your succulent ass clapping against his thighs tortured him, so he wants, needs a second round.

With anticipation, Taehyung steps into the apartment, instinctively searching for you. Nowadays, you're in little space, which means you greet him with hugs and kisses each time he comes home from work. Yet this time, you don't, which makes him frown. He closes the door, setting down his bag and shucking off his shoes. He stays still for a moment, listening for a sign of your presence, then hears a moan. A very quiet, desperate moan. He stiffens, and his features settle to stone. He silently stalks down the hallway and pauses in front of the cracked door to your little room, allowing him a view of what's happening inside.

Your face is mashed in the pillows, your features scrunched with desperation and pleasure. Your frilly, pink dress is shoved up to your chest, exposing your soaked pussy. Your matching panties are lying beside you on the bed. You frantically rub away at your clit, soft noises leaving you, your thighs in white stockings trembling, your toes curling. You mewl, drawing quicker circles on your bud of nerves, anxious to reach that high Taehyung always gives you on your own.

Taehyung sighs and shakes his head, disappointed to see you directly breaking your number one rule. He was going to treat you well, reward you for being a good girl last night, but your present actions force him to punish you like the needy slut you are.

Laying his hand on the doorknob, the other tucked into his pocket, Taehyung widens the door, stepping into the room. His features are cold and serious, his eyes harsh, dark. "What are you doing?" he flatly asks, his grip tight on the knob.

At the sound of his voice, you freeze completely, and your head slowly turns to look at him. Your cheeks, originally flushed with arousal, now fill with shame, the pink deepening into red. Gulping, you tear your hand away from your sopping center, carefully shifting to sit back on your heels, rightfully replacing your dress. You wipe your sticky hand on your bedsheets, then, reluctantly, shuffle to face him. Your head is bowed, your hands clasped in your lap. You don't dare meet his gaze.

"W-Wasn't doing anything," you softly say in your cute, childish voice, crinkling the skirt of your dress with your fingers, "p-promise."

A noiseless, humorless laugh leaves him at your answer. How typical of you, trying to talk your way out of a situation even when he clearly saw the evidence. This is a trait in both your little and big spaces, and to be honest, it's easier for you to get away with it when you're big. When you're little, however, is a different story. Taehyung steps further into the room, shutting the door.

"You were touching yourself," he lowly corrects you, slowly approaching you, like a predator with its prey.

You adamantly shake your head. "N-No!"

He scoffs at your denial, leaning with his hands on either side of you, effectively trapping you. "Don't even try," he says, his voice timbre. "I saw you. It's like you knew I was gonna come home and see you behaving like a slut."

"No, Daddy, I-I promise!" You shake your head once more, your eyes wide with panic and innocence. "I didn't, I promise!"

"Then why were you touching yourself?" You snap your mouth shut, and you look away, unable to maintain eye contact. Taehyung barks a little laugh at your incapability to answer him. "That's what I thought." He straightens, tugging off his shirt, revealing his gently toned torso. "Do you know your rules, slut?"

Your cheeks deepen to scarlet. "Y-Yes."

He shoves his sweats off. "What's your first rule?"

You swallow. "N-Never touch myself without D-Daddy's permission."

"That's right, slut." Taehyung combs his hair away from his face and crosses his arms. "And what did you do?"

"T-Touched myself without Daddy's permission..." You refuse to look at him.

"What happens to naughty girls when they disobey their Daddy, hm?" He sees you hesitate. "What happens, slut?" he says stonily.

Your eyes well with tears. "T-They get punished."

"That's right, babygirl. Now go get what I need. You know what it is."

Trembling, you shuffle to the edge of the bed and stand, then go to your closet. Taehyung watches you closely as you slide it open and kneel, searching for the particular box containing the items he requires to punish you with. You return to him with the box in hand, and he quietly thanks you. You crawl back on the bed and resume your position, your head bowed. He sets the box on the bed and removes the top. Your toys beam up at him, all of them innocently pink and adorable. He takes out a sturdy, thick ribbon, snapping it tight.

"Lie back," he orders, climbing on the bed while you obey him, parting your legs for him, your arms curled up by your chest. "Hands up by the headboard."

Your lips tremble at his demand. "D-Daddy, no-"

His dark gaze shuts you up, and you blush. "You know better than to deny me, darling," he murmurs, reaching up and firmly tying your wrists to the headboard with the ribbon, "especially when you've been naughty. Especially when I caught you deliberately breaking your first rule."

"D-Daddy, I'm sorry," you croak.

He shakes his head. "It's too late to apologize now. You should've thought this through before you touched yourself without my permission. This is your punishment, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

You open your mouth to reply, but Taehyung firmly grips your dress from the collar and cleanly rips it in half. You wail, your eyes welling with tears. He knows it's your favorite dress, which makes this more cruel and harsh. He licks his lips and parts the ruined material, freeing your beautiful body. Your nipples are rosy and peaked, your chest heaving from the loss of your most beloved dress. His eyes trail down to your pussy, which is still flushed and soaked with arousal. He thoughtfully hums, dragging his hands along your stockinged thighs, feeling the soft material beneath his palms.

"You look so pretty," he gently coos, smirking a bit at your pathetic whimpering. You wriggle under his scrutiny. His touch drifts up to your tits, tenderly cupping and squeezing them. "My pretty princess."

He kneads your breasts a bit harshly, digging his dull nails into your plush skin, pinching your nipples. You squeak at this, arching your back and shoving your chest at him. With a little chuckle, Taehyung hovers above one of your tits, collecting his saliva and allowing the pearl to fall from his lips on your nipple. You gasp as he dips down and captures it, gently suckling and swirling his tongue around it like a lollipop for a singular moment. Then he roughly bites your peaked bud, and you squeak again, your body jolting beneath him. He glances up at you, seeing your flushed cheeks and your pouty lips.

"Owwie!" you whine. He parts from your nipple to brutally suckle and nibble a patch of skin near it, occasionally soothing the irritated flesh with his tongue. He continues this until there's several blooming marks, the purple spots the petals, your pink nub the center. Your lips tremble as he admires his artwork, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "D-Daddy..."

“You know your safe word,” Taehyung says. He spanks your tit, which makes you jump, and he latches on your second nipple, flicking his tongue around the rosy pearl. Then he repeats his merciless treatment from before, brutally suckling on it and nibbling on it. You mewl at his harsh actions, tugging your binded wrists, as if to touch him. You squirm beneath him, and he pins you to the bed to keep you still.

After painting your second breast to match the first, he parts from you, his dark, dilated eyes flickering over his beautiful handiwork. Shit, you look absolutely gorgeous now that both of your tits are marked with purple and red.

"Such a pretty slut," Taehyung coos, roughly handling both mounds of flesh in his hands before swatting them. He repeats this, and you moan, arching your back and shoving your chest in his direction. He hears the headboard creak, and he glances up, spotting how you're pulling the ribbon again.

"D-Daddy, please," you mewl, tears rolling down your cheeks. He softly hushes you, gently kissing you, his actions soft now. You need comfort. You whimper against his mouth, wriggling under him again just a bit. "P-Please..."

"Please what?" he murmurs, drifting his kisses down your jaw to your neck, then further and further, down your chest and stomach to arrive between your legs. He licks his lips at the sight of your flushed, soaked, pink pussy, your juices leaking from your entrance. He hums lightly, gliding a digit through your wet folds. You gasp and buck your hips, which makes him scowl. He lands a sharp spank on your cunt, and you screech. "Use your words, slut."

"F-Fuck me," you plead, a tear rolling down your cheek. "P-Please! It hurts so bad!"

"What hurts?" Taehyung drifts a hand over your sensitive cunt, smirking a bit at how you sob at his gentle touch. For a moment, he rubs little circles on your clit, and you squeak, bucking your hips. His cocky smirk grows. Then he spanks your pussy again, making you yelp from the sudden pain. You're fully crying now, teardrops streaming nonstop. "What hurts? Answer me."

Your red cheeks flush deeper to crimson. Taehyung knows you absolutely despise voicing what you want, which is exactly why he makes you do it. "M-My pussy," you weakly say. "M-My pussy hurts, Daddy. F-Fuck me, please. N-Need your cock so bad..."

He thoughtfully hums at your request, his eyes flickering back down to your cunt. He tilts his head. You're visibly throbbing, your entrance steadily pumping out your arousal. A bead of your juices leaks and slowly drips down to your asshole, and he licks his lips again. He wants to taste you, to make you cry on his tongue, but you've been naughty. He can't reward a naughty girl now, can he?

"Are you sure, babygirl?" he asks. "I don't know if you deserve my cock. You did directly break one of your rules, after all."

You wail and writhe beneath him again, yanking at your restraint again. He gazes down at you, half-expecting you to tap out, to use your safe word and make this torture stop. But you don't. Although your lips tremble, you don't say the one word that will make him stop all of his actions and smother you with sweet kisses and cuddles. He quirks a brow at you, seeing your silent plead in your shining eyes.

You buck your hips again. "P-Please!"

Huffing, Taehyung shuffles off the bed and shucks off his sweats and boxers. His cock, hard, thick and long, slaps against his stomach. His tip is angry and leaking precum already. He spits in his hand and uses it to lube up his length as he crawls back between your legs, pumping himself, expertly twisting his wrist at his tip. Your eyes greedily drink in his shaft as he lets a pearl of spit land on your pussy. You shiver, widening your thighs even more.

"Please," you croak, whining and throwing your head back when he glides his tip along your drenched folds. "Daddy, please..."

He simply hums in reply, aligning with your entrance. He places a warm hand on your pelvis to keep you still as he slowly enters you, his lips parting in awe. Your warm, tight, wet cunt greedily welcomes him, your walls fluttering and clinging to him. Your entrance sucks in his cock, eating him up for all her is. A hiss leaves him once he's sheathed inside you, and you whimper, struggling against the ribbon binding your wrists.

"D-Daddy!" you mewl, your tears steadily flowing down your cheeks like rivers.

He gently hushes you, leaning down and capturing your blubbering lips with his own. A little moan leaves you at his sudden tenderness, and you don't hesitate to reciprocate. The headboard creaks again, meaning your tugging at your restraints again, and he growls, suddenly biting your lip. You gasp as he parts from you, a dark and dominant expression on his face. Tightly gripping your hips, he starts a sharp, swift pace, his hips harshly clapping against your ass, keeping your legs parted with his large hands. The bed shakes from his powerful thrusts.

"O-Oh, fuck!" you shriek, sobbing, your tits violently bouncing. "D-Daddy, oh my god!"

"Behave, slut," he grunts, completely focused on the way your breasts jolt as he bucks into you. God, they're so pretty, especially with his purple marks circling your abused nipples. "Stop trying to free yourself and accept your punishment like the good girl you are, yeah?"

Wailing, you bury your face in your inner arm, obediently taking his rough treatment without any further retort. Since you were previously touching yourself, you're rather close to your high, if your high-pitched and loud noises aren't enough of a clue. Gritting his teeth together, Taehyung keeps rutting into you until you're just about to cum, ripping his cock from within you. You squeal at the denial of your orgasm, kicking your feet and sobbing.

"Daddy, please!" you cry, trembling like a leaf beneath him.

Taehyung smirks and spanks your clit, making you yelp. "Remember, princess," he coos, dipping down to murmur in your ear, "you've been a bad girl, breaking one of your rules. I don't know if you deserve to cum."

"P-Please, Daddy?"

He clicks his tongue at your poor excuse of a beg. "You know you can do better than that, babygirl."

"Lemme cum! P-Please lemme cum!" you gasp, pulling on your restraints again. "I-I'll be a good girl, I promise, Daddy! I-I won't touch myself ever again and I'll do anything you ask! Just please let me cum, Daddy!"

Humming again, he smacks his cock against your clit a few times, making you jump, then he brutally shoves himself back inside you, resuming his merciless tempo. You screech at his sudden movements, arching your back. You sob like a baby as he snaps his hips back and forth, his cock sliding in and out of your squelching pussy. You whimper and tug at the ribbon once more. He glances up to check your bondage, only to see the redness around your wrists. Sighing softly, he reaches up and frees you, and your arms immediately fly around his shoulders. You cling to him and dig your nails into his skin as he rails you, abusing your poor little cunt.

"D-Daddy, 'm cumming!" you mewl, warning him of your close end. Taehyung hisses as you drag your nails down his back, leaving behind inflamed trails of red. "F-Fuck, 'm cumming!"

"Cum for me, little one," he mumbles, his hips pistoning in and out of you more precisely. His thighs sting slightly from the impact against your ass, but he doesn't care. He feels too good right now. "Cum all over Daddy's cock like the good slut you are."

You cum instantly, and you scream, arching your back and squirming beneath him while your pussy sporadically spasms around him. Taehyung shakily groans, his pace growing a bit sloppy. He slams into you a few more times before stuffing his cock deep inside you and emptying his hot, thick load. You wantonly mewl in satisfaction, happily wiggling your hips.

Taehyung slumps on top of your, slowly grinding his hips to ride you both through your highs. His breath slowly regains composure, his body hot and cold at the same time. He softly sighs and closes his eyes, using your plush chest as a pillow. Then he looks up at you with a concerned gaze.

"I wasn't too rough, was I?" he quietly asks you.

You shake your head and smile a bit. "No, but I kinda hurt."

Frowning a bit, he sits up and carefully withdraws his cock from within your tight cunt, and your mixed fluids soon follow, leaking from your entrance and dripping down to your asshole. Tenderly, he picks you up and carries you to your bathroom, setting you on counter to prepare your bath. He leans down and fills the tub with warm water, even adding some bubble bath and your favorite bath toys. After disposing of your ruined dress and stockings, he lowers you into the water, undoing your braids.

"Relax, princess. Let Daddy clean you up, okay?" Taehyung softly tells you, wetting your hair before massaging in your shampoo, being sure to get every inch of your damp locks. You hum in reply, playing with your toys while he cleans you. Your hair is soon clean, and he moves on to your body, carefully wiping your thighs and your center when he gets to it. He presses a kiss to your cheek, and you giggle, smiling at him.

He loves this, spending time with you and giving you the best aftercare after treating you so harshly. You are his little, after all, and he's your caretaker, a teddy bear disguised as a horrifying beast. Once you're squeaky clean, he lifts you out of the tub and pats you dry. He carries you back to your room to dress you in your favorite unicorn onesie, wanting to make sure you're nice and warm.

"Let's watch Barbie movies now, okay?" he suggests, placing you back on your bed once he's done changing the sheets. He gives you your favorite stuffy, and you beam and nod. "Alright, I'll grab some of your favorite snacks and your sippy, 'kay?"

"Okay, Daddy!" you chime, grinning at him.

With a loving look, Taehyung leaves the room and enters the kitchen, grabbing some strawberries and a banana and chopping them up. He places them in a double container, also adding some goldfish in the other one. Then he fills your sippy cup with apple juice, being sure not to add too much. He returns to you with these in hand, and you squeal in delight, clapping your hands.

"Thank you, Daddy!"

"You're welcome, baby," he murmurs, lying down beside you with the remote in hand. He puts on your favorite Barbie movie, holding you close while you cuddle into him and munch on your goldfish.

While the intro plays, Taehyung whispers, "I love you, princess."

You smile while crunching on your goldfish. "I love you, Daddy."

© babiekaykes 2021