#yeah the ideal way to see this city is behind a Corgi

[joonbird]

Bibliothèque

➭ “You are at the very top of your college cohort, an A grade student on the fast track to a life of success. You know the answers to everything, or at least you think you do. That is until you meet quirky genius Kim Taehyung.”

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: smut, fluff, college au, college rivals au, librarian!tae

wordcount: 15k

❀ 3 / 8 of my oneshot requests ❀

You can still remember the moment you first laid eyes on Kim Taehyung. 

It had been any other day – you sitting at your desk squinting down at your papers, waiting for your subject tutor to arrive, while your classmates chattered around you.

The door had crashed open, which in itself was odd because half of the doors in your college were old and it was a known fact to proceed with caution. Your head had jerked up, wondering which idiot had the audacity to make an entrance like that.

And there, in the doorway, stood Taehyung. 

He was wearing a huge cardigan, one that had scattered lumps of wool throughout, as if someone had been in the middle of knitting it and lost focus. Underneath a thin black tee clung to his frame. He had wide legged pants on and wire frame glasses, a stark contrast to the other guys in your class who dressed identically in black skinny jeans and polo tees. 

He had stood there with his chin tilted up slightly, one eyebrow cocked as if he was there judging everybody else, like you were all the new kids up for evaluation, not him. 

He oozed with a quiet calm and a quiet cool that seemed way too city for a small town like yours.

“Hey,” He said, his face straight and composed. His voice echoed with timber, rich and velvet. His eyes landed on yours, his eyebrow quirked, just a fraction.

Enough to have you glancing down, swallowing hard and realizing with a sharp clarity that your throat was dry. 

You only glanced up again when you heard the sound of his footsteps, him, working his way around the room to find a seat. He sat at the only empty one, near Kim Namjoon and his friends. He slouched in his seat, pulling a laptop out of his bag (a battered black one that had a peeling sticker of a corgi on it) and he yawned. You hated that you noticed, but you did. 

As if he was sensing your gaze, he craned his neck around and smiled at you. 

You glared and his grin only widend, as if somehow your clear distaste for him only spurred him on more. 

You didn’t know how to describe the encounter, jarring and strange and oddly intriguing, all at once. 

You definitely didn’t know how to describe him either. 

So instead, you stared down at the stack of books in front of you, at your diary, filled to the brim with to-do lists and studying tasks, and you told yourself to stop being distracted by the strange new transfer student who was introducing himself to everyone as ‘Kim Taehyung but call me Tae’.  

Back then, Taehyung had been mildly interesting to you. Someone your eyes flickered to, a voice that you picked out amongst the chatter of your classmates. 

Taehyung is unlike anyone you had met before- and your weren’t alone in your initial curiosity. Taehyung quickly attracted a wide circle of friends, from Kim Namjoon who ran the college newspaper, to Kim Seokjin who was a quarterback on the football team. 

Still, you steadily ignored the stirrings of intrigue in your chest and told yourself to ignore him, the boy who was likely just another guy on the path to graduate college as soon as possible while putting in the least amount of effort possible.

That was until Wednesday of that week. 

It had been a hot day, the kind of day where the sunlight filtered into the room and the air seemed thickened with a slow laziness. Even your brain felt stiffer than usual, and your subject tutor stifled a few yawns mid discussion, echoing the sentiments of the drowsy room. Still, your subject tutor was pushing on, much to everybody’s chagrin.

“…So can anyone see the logical fallacy in this argument? Anyone?” 

Your tutor looked around the class and his eyes fell on you, waiting patiently. You always knew your answers, you always knew your content- but your mind was blank, stubbornly so, and you glanced down at your notebook for answers 

“The logical fallacy is in the argument’s use of circular reasoning.“ A voice piped up calmly.

The voice belonged to Kim Taehyung. Kim Taehyung who was slouched all over his chair, his laptop sitting on his desk, wearing one of the strangest outfits you had ever seen (a vibrant patterned shirt and those same wide leg pants, like he was some kind of bougie office worker on the top half, bohemian street performer on the bottom half). 

Your head had snapped over to him, he was blinking slowly and lazily, like a kitten basking in the sunlight, his hair falling into his forehead, his eyes glimmering in the apricot glow of the mid-summer heat.

Your jaw had dropped open. Your subject tutor pressed on, peppering Taehyung with questions, all of which he effortlessly answered. 

And all that while you stared, feeling for the first time, an unfamiliar prickle in your chest of what you decided had to be competitiveness.

It had become evident after that, that Kim Taehyung is something of a genius.

You had become accustomed to breezing through your classes, being the only one to stay back afterwards and press your lecturers and tutors for more content, more material. You had happily settled into the role of number one amongst your college cohort. 

That was until Taehyung threw a spanner into the works. 

He is completely different to you- relaxed in his approach to everything, laidback in how he goes about his studies. And all semester, he remains right there behind you, number two to your number one. 

He’s been a presence, something that weighed lightly on your mind. But it wasn’t until you scheduled a meeting with your college careers counsellor and enquired about the grad program you had been dreaming of since your freshman year that Taehyung evolved from a slightly irritating presence to a full blown threat. 

‘Well, there actually is another contender for the grad program,’ Your careers counsellor had said after a moment of hesitation.

The grad program you were pursuing was highly competitive, only ever taking in one student from your community college per year. 

You had been a shoo in for the program all year, the sole candidate.

That was until, of course, transfer student Kim Taehyung had become part of the equation.

“... Personally, I think that physicalism is a good ontological acconunt for the philosophy of the mind. Consciousness, the mind and the soul are purely physical.”

You rattle off your words assertively, folding your arms over your chest. It’s the last of your classes before the summer break, and your surrounding classmates. inclusive of you, are eager for this compulsory capstone philosophy subject to be over and for the summer holidays to begin.

Your tutor hums in agreement. “An interesting argument. Does anyone have a differing argument?” 

The class is silent, and you smile in satisfaction. 

A voice clears, the sound of a cough, a body shifting in its chair. You glance up to see Taehyung lifting an arm straight in the air.

“…Well actually, I personally think that dualism is a better stance on the philosophy of the mind. I think it makes more sense logically to conclude that the mind is made up of an immaterial substance. Plus... I believe that you can’t explain the concept of a soul in purely physical terms.”

Your eyes narrow and you fold your arms across your chest.

“Also a good argument.” Your tutor nods tiredly, glancing up at the clock. “Okay, well-”

“Well. Just for the record. I disagree with that view.”

Your words come out a touch harsher than you had hoped. Taehyung’s eyes meet yours, his gaze is thoughtful before he shrugs, an easygoing smile falling on his face.

“I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree, then.”

A long silence hangs between the two of you

“…Okay, well. That’s all we’ve got time for today.” Your tutor interrupts, the class immediately dissolving into conversation and the sounds of textbooks being packed away. 

You push back on your chair and grab your books, feeling your cheeks flush scarlet in embarrassment. 

You are out of the class when you hear Taehyung behind you, hear his voice calling out your name. 

“That was fun,” He smiles at you, an airy, effortless smile and he’s all floaty and relaxed while you’re annoyed and seething. “We should study together or something during the summer break.”

“You’re applying for the grad program, right?” You ask in a short, clipped voice and you see surprise register over his features. He nods, cocking his head.

“Yeah, how did you-”

“So, you’re my competition,” You say bluntly, and you immediately notice the flicker of amusement in Taehyung’s eyes, pick up on the way his lips quirk in the corners (because you always notice when it comes to Kim Taehyung, as much as you have tried not to). 

“I don’t think studying together would be a good idea.” 

You whirl around on your heel and stride away, squeezing your eyes together in embarrassment. You had thought in your head that the words would come out scathingly, but instead you sound petulant and unconvincing. 

You wonder fleetingly what Taehyung thought of that interaction, of your words and then you practically running away from him. 

You shake your head and try to tell yourself it doesn’t matter what Taehyung thinks of you, that Taehyung himself doesn’t matter at all. 

Still, no matter what you tell yourself, the truth remains the same. 

There’s just something about Kim Taehyung that just gets to you.

You walk into your local library in the late afternoon on the second day of your summer break. Your local library stays open late into the evenings during college summer breaks, and tends to be much quieter than the library on campus. 

Therefore – it’s the ideal place to study.

“Hello,” a voice greets you, a familiar voice that gives you pause. You glance up to see none other than Kim Taehyung sitting at the chipped wooden librarian’s desk, your surprise mirrored on his face before he recovers it quickly.

“Well,” Taehyung says lightly, his voice imbued in sarcasm. “If it isn’t my competition.” 

He’s wearing a button up shirt with sleeves that extend past his hands, you watch as he pushes up on the hems of his sleeves, cocking his head to one side as he gives you a wry smile. His hair is shaggy, falling into his eyes, which are covered in a pair of wire frame rectangular glasses.

“Oh,” You stammer out, your eyes widening slightly. “What’re are you doing here?”

Taehyung just quirks an eyebrow, he leans forward and taps at the small plaque on the desk. The plaque reads, Junior Librarian: Kim Taehyung.

“You work here?” You repeat awkwardly, he nods. 

“Yep, I do the night shifts. Good way to get some extra money, and well, working in a library is actually a lot of fun. I get free books.”

He smiles at you, a small smile, something of a peace offering. You stare at him for a long moment.

“Oh,” You say dumbly, “Right. Good for you.” 

You clear your throat, ignoring the strange flutter that’s settling in your belly as you hoist your bag on your shoulder. 

“I’m gonna…” Your voice trails off and you nod, turning on your heel and quickly sitting down on one of the nearby desks. You pull out your books, your pens, placing them out neatly in front of you.

You glance up to see Taehyung gazing at you, a faint smile tugging on his lips. An olive branch in the shape of a barely there smile. 

You smile back, it pulls at the corner of your lips before you can stop yourself. The two of you sit there – you at your desk, him at his – before you finally tear your eyes away and look down at the work in front of you, trying to ignore the steadfast flutter in your belly.

After that, you see Kim Taehyung every day.

You have no idea when it started to become daily routine, going to the library and being greeted by none other than ‘Junior Librarian Kim Taehyung’. 

Your daily routine goes as follows: Each day, at the end of the afternoon, you make your way to your local library to squeeze in a few hours of productive study. Each time, you spot Taehyung behind the librarian’s desk. He looks up, he smiles at you, and you sit at the same table, bring out your books, and try to focus on the work in front of you and no the librarian sitting only a few metres away.

When it’s well and truly night time, and the library is sparse save for a few dedicated college students, Taehyung strolls over and strikes up conversation. 

Sometimes Taehyung’s shifts stretch until late night close, and he’ll come and sit opposite you, going through lists of people with overdue books, his knee restless as he taps his pen against the sheets of paper he’s rifling through.

Other times, when Taehyung finishes his shift early, he sits opposite you, sometimes studying himself, sometimes buried in the pages of a book. He always looks so utterly wrapped up in the books he reads, poking his head up and out of the pages to tell you in a rushed voice ‘You have to read this book, here, I’ll write it down for you, you have to read it!’ 

And as much as you don’t want to, as much as you didn’t expect it, never expected it - you find yourself thawing, your guard lowering... until you quietly admit to yourself that maybe, just maybe, Taehyung isn’t so bad after all.

“Hey,” Taehyung complains, lifting his head from where it was resting in his arms. “I’m bored.”

You twist your lips, roll your eyes disdainfully. Shoot him a cold-eyed stare that has most people cowering. Taehyung of course, is not most people, and just blinks back at you stubbornly.

“I’m bored,” Taehyung repeats, and you sigh.

“I dunno, do something then. Get a hobby, read a book. I dunno.”

Taehyung leans back on his chair, tilts his head to one side, clicks his tongue.

“Speaking of books. Have you read the books I recommended you yet?”

You are frowning down at the page in front of you, deep in the throes of trying to read up on research material for one of your classes. Distractedly, you shake your head.

“Not yet.”

“Why not? They’re really good, honest. Cross my heart.” You glance up to see Taehyung with his hand over his chest, an innocent smile on his face. 

You roll your eyes.

“I don’t have time to read right now, Taehyung.” You tell him in as condescending of a tone as you can manage. 

Taehyung just leans forward, resting his chin in his hands.

“You should always make time for the things that make you happy.” He says sagely, and you roll your eyes, leaning forward and poking him with your pen.

“Yeah yeah, who are you, Oprah?”

Taehyung ignores your question and you sense him staring at you.

“How come you study so hard all the time?” He prods.

You hesitate, staring pointedly at the page. You have your usual self-defensive answer rolling off the tip of your tongue, but you stop it. Instead, you write down a few words, biting your lip.

“It was family pressure at first,” You say finally, you cross out a word you have written and write a new one beside it. Taehyung is silent. “But now? I don’t know. I guess I want to prove it to myself as badly as I want to prove it to them.” You still don’t look at Taehyung, but you stop writing. Your pen hovers above the paper. 

“Well. I look up to that a lot. I look up to you a lot.”

“Huh?” You glance up in confusion to see Taehyung staring directly at you. His dark eyebrows are raised slightly in an expression of utter sincerity, his chin still propped up in his hands. 

“You look up to me? Why?” 

Taehyung just shrugs and smiles. 

“Yeah well, you work hard, you’re really dedicated.” He says finally, before he straightens. 

“And you have a good heart. You can’t learn those things, you just… are those things. You know?” He reaches in his bag and pulls out a worn novel, opening it and propping his pen between his lips. 

“Anyway. I look up to you. Even though I’m taller than you.” He adds as an afterthought, pursing his lips before shrugging and focusing his attention on the book in his hands.

“Oh,” You look down at the page and fight the strange lump that’s rising in your throat. “Thanks Tae.”

“Anytime.” Taehyung begins humming to himself, tapping his foot in time to the jazzy melody he’s quietly crooning under his breath. 

You run over his words in your mind, securing them in your thoughts. 

I look up to you a lot.

“What are you smiling about?”

“What?” Your head snaps up to see Taehyung glancing at you curiously.

“You’ve had this weird smile on your face for the last hour. What are you thinking about?”

You feel your cheeks start to heat up, it doesn’t help that Taehyung looks even more intrigued, leaning forward and resting his chin in his palm. 

“What?” He whines, and you shake your head, staring back down at your work, trying to tell your cheeks to stop blushing.

“I, uh, just thinking back to um- a joke my friend told me,” You say finally, lamely. You hope that your vague answer is enough to deter Taehyung from pressing on but instead he just looks even more interested, leaning closer.

“What’s the joke?”

“I- you wouldn’t get it,“

“I wouldn’t get it?” Taehyung repeats, he frowns, a puckish twist of his lips that for some reason has your heart leaping in your chest. “Try me. I have a great sense of humour.”

You flush pink, and shake your head. “No, I don’t-”

“Tell me!” Taehyung props his face in his hands and shoots you an injured look. “Friends tell friends jokes. I feel very offended that you’re withholding jokes from me.” 

Your mouth opens and closes a few times. You are stuck for a moment, not sure what to say – you cant exactly tell him that you were smiling like a giddy idiot because you were thinking, still, about the words he had said to you earlier today – and the first joke that pops into your head comes spilling out of your mouth.

“What do you call a man with no nose and no body?”

You cringe the moment it’s out of your mouth. It’s an old joke, one that you and your family say to each other at every Christmas, when all of you are together in one place. There are a few traditions you have with your family, traditions that hold firm even though you barely get to see them. This terrible joke is one of them and you feel your cheeks start to tinge pink.

“What?” Taehyung asks, he raises an eyebrow at you expectantly.

“…Nobody nose.”

You are blushing in earnest now, your ears feel hot and you can’t believe you just told Taehyung a joke that you and your family say to each other, and Taehyung stares at you. 

His face splits into a smile and it feels like someone’s cracked an egg in your ribcage and the yolk is oozing into your chest, bright yellow and sunny. 

“That is funny,” Taehyung beams at you, and you meet his gaze, your eyes lingering for a prlonged moment before you stare down at your work, telling yourself furiously to not blush don’t you dare blush, and of course, you blush even harder.

Today is one of those days where nothing is going right. 

It’s as if none of the words on the pages sitting on front of you make sense, and no matter how many times, you can’t decipher the mess. 

Your chest is cumulatively getting tighter, more restricted, more bothered, and with each crumpled page of paper, and each slash of black ink, you feel frustration ebb hot and uncomfortable in your body.

“Why the long face?”

You could recognize that voice anywhere, and you don’t glance up, staring at the page, your neat handwriting. You hear fingertips drumming on the table top, the sound of the chair legs squeaking.

“Isn’t today meant to be your day off?” 

Irritation strings through your words, and you feel your fingers ball up into a fist. The words that you’re writing don’t make any sense, and finally, you drag your eyes from paper to the boy sitting opposite you.

Taehyung is watching you, a backpack slouched on the floor by his feet. He looks good- his hair is damp, parted haphazardly. Today he’s dressed in a sweater that seems as if it’s three sizes too big for him.

You feel a heady sort of thrill work it’s way up your chest and into your throat as he stretches his arms above his head, his fingers latching around his elbow as he wriggles his body with a loud yawn.

“I was sick of studying.” He straightens and flashes you a grin, one that while wolfish at the start, quickly softens into a charismatic sweetness that you have come to recognize as a Taehyung signature. “And I wanted to see you.”

Your breath catches at his words. 

He is unfazed, he is stretching again, not realizing that his words were just a touch, a smidgen, too much. 

But Taehyung in a nutshell is a combination of too much, he does everything in abundance and in quantities of too much, and it’s infectious. 

You push back on the desk abruptly, the metallic screech of your chair legs against the floor fill the space between you. You don’t stop to see the question mark that falls over Taehyung’s face.

“Gotta get a book,” You mutter, whirling around on your heel and marching to a quiet corner of the library. You tuck yourself in between two tall shelves, filled with gardening books. As you settle against the cool brick wall, you take a deep breath in.

“Are you alright?” You glance up to see Taehyung standing in front of you, his hands folded tentatively. You don’t respond, and Taehyung takes a step forward, thrusting his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks.

“Y/N?” He asks in a voice infused with a dulcet tone, and you glance up to see him peering at you with concerned eyes. There’s something in seeing Taehyung gaze at you like this, and you can’t help but imagine what it would be like to having Taehyung looking at you like this more often, all toned down sweetness, hands shoved in pockets and softly probing words.

You don’t think you’re going to speak, you aren’t one to speak or act without properly thinking through each possible step first... but your mouth opens of it’s own accord and words spill out, messy and frantic and rushed.

“I’m frustrated.” 

Taehyung doesn’t react, he just blinks slowly and nods. There’s something in the nuances of his gestures that has your tightly wrapped up emotions unfurling.

“I just feel frustrated,” You continue, your voice is scrambled and you breathe in sharply. “I don’t know, I can’t explain it, I just feel stressed and worried about everything. I feel like a failure. Or I’m going to be one at least. I don’t know, I’m not getting it this morning, I can’t focus, and I just feel…” Your voice trails off uncertainly and you shake your head, your shoulders drooping. “Never mind.”

“Hey,” Taehyung says authoritatively, striding forward. He reaches out and lifts your hand. He presses two fingertips into the flesh of your palm It’s not as if the impromptu hand massage feels particularly good, but you feel every locked muscle in your body relax. 

Like a plug being pulled, tension drains out of you.

“I know how you feel.” He says, his voice low and sturdy. “It fucking sucks, right? Not knowing why you feel frustrated and useless and uncertain? It sucks. But it’ll pass. Trust me.” He accentuates his words with kneads of his fingers into your palm, rhythmic motions. 

“And if it’s any help… you could never be a failure. No matter what.” His voice, deep in timbre and so quietly convinced, permeates through every last prickle of irritation and you feel a flutter in your chest. 

“Tae…” The word is tiny, murmured out into the air. 

You glance up to see Taehyung staring at you. He is no longer massaging your palm. His fingers curl into yours, before your linked hands fall by your side. This close you can see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes, the freckle on his nose.

The way his eyelashes, almost impossibly thick and dark, flutter just a fraction with each breath. 

You don’t speak. Instead, you lean closer. 

Enough to step further into his proximity- he smells like freshly pressed linen and iced coffee. 

You are still pressed against the wall, the library shelves hugging each side of you. In the background you can hear the quiet tapping of fingers on keyboards, the rustling of papers. And above everything you can feel it under your skin like a skin of electricity. A humming, buzzing warmth. 

Taehyung reaches up and with the pad of his thumb, brushes the underside of your chin. A gesture that is playful and affectionate, so unfitting for this moment, so utterly Taehyung, that you laugh.

In that split second, in that laugh, Taehyung leans in and brushes his lips over yours. A kiss, soft, sweet, slow. You freeze into it, at the sensation of Taehyung’s lips on yours. 

His touch is hesitant and careful, and it’s enough to cause something to perceptibtly snap inside of you as you kiss him back.

Slower, deeper, sweeter, until you feel dizzy and drunk from his lips and his tongue.

Your head tilts into his, your fingers arcing up to rest carefully on his chest. Your fingertips brush the neckline of his jumper and you hear a small noise akin to a sigh in the back of his throat, feel the slight vibration of his chest underneath your palm. 

You can taste him, his lips pressed against yours and his tongue working slow, intense circles against yours. You can smell him, his cologne lingering on his clothes and the scent of his skin. 

He’s not in a rush, kissing you long and hard, and with each passing dip of your heads together, the increasing firmness in which you press your body to his, you feel anticipation start to clamour in your chest. 

You can hear the soft groans pulling from his throat, him shifting his balance from foot to foot as he carefully presses into you in return. 

You can feel him- his kisses, his hands which are working down from beside your breasts to nipping around your waist, hooking around your hips and giving them a careful squeeze. 

Time is suspended, for all you know gravity and space and whatever else is on hold, the only thing that matters, the only thing that holds remote significance is the feeling of Kim Taehyung’s hands mapping the silhouette of your body, his lips and tongue kissing yours. 

You can feel each of his movements deep in between your legs, a dull knock that has your belly squeezing and a flooding heat coursing through your veins. 

You keen your hips into his, rutting desperately against the curve of his fingers wrapped around your hips, grinding against the bulge in his slacks. You feel a dark, wicked satisfaction at the choked groan that Taehyung utters right into your mouth, it slips amongst your kisses which are growing hotter and faster and more desperate. 

Taehyung’s tongue licks over your lips, and he pulls away to press a kiss against your earlobe, his words slurred and throaty in your ear.

“I’m going crazy for you right now.” His voice is confident, his words strained with unmistakable arousal. 

You are all too aware aware of the dampness between your legs and Taehyung’s breath on your ear and the slope of your neck.

“Taehyung…” You whimper out his name in response, a word is coaxed from your lips, a dirty, urgent plea. You slowly roll your hips up into his. You can feel his hard cock straining against his pants and against your underwear. 

It’s uncomfortable, how turned on your are- your legs weak with want and that insistent ache deep in your core. But it also feels good, overwhelmingly good.

Taehyung kisses you hungrily, deeply, and his hands scrabble from your hips to your inner thighs. His fingers are full of intent, they trace long, slow lines up your sensitive skin. He brushes closer and closer to your cotton underwear. 

You dig your thumbs into his hips and relish the way he pushes his cock harder against you with a whine. Your breathing is erratic, a staccato against the steady drumbeat of arousal in between your legs as Taehyung brushes the tips of his fingers against your slit. Your underwear is soaked through, ruined.

Taehyung doesn’t comment but he pulls away from your mouth as his eyes track down to where his hand is, lost under your skirt in between your legs.

Your eyes flutter upwards to see him bite his bottom lip, his eyes flashing in arousal, his jaw clenching as he lets out a soft, barely there, “God.”

Your skirt is bunched up around his arm as he reaches up even more and hooks a finger down around the edge of your underwear. 

Your breath rushes in and you nod, kissing into Taehyung’s neck. Feverish presses of your lips against his skin to mask sounds and mewls from escaping your lips. 

You’re in the fucking library and your mind is quietly telling you to be quiet, but that in itself has you worked up to an unmistakable frenzy. 

His skin is warm and soft and you feel the humof his commanding voice against your lips as he murmurs out your name, his fingers slipping down your underwear.

His fingers graze over your clit generously, and the sensation has your eyes squeezing shut. Taehyung chuckles. His fingers slowly, cleanly slide over your soaking wet folds, before tantalizingly going back up to your clit. 

It feels so good- an immediate relief that is accompanied by a roaring, surging want. You want more. With each careful tease of Taehyung’s long fingers against your slit, against your aching bud, you want more. 

You moan louder against Taehyung’s neck, your teeth catching on his pulse point as you attempt, poorly, to buffer your moans of pleasure. 

Taehyung lowers his head so that his lips are by your ear. 

“You feel so good for me baby.” His voice is deep and his words delicious and you whimper into his skin as you feel his finger teasing at your entrance. 

He slips in until half of his finger is inside of you. Your breath locks in your throat and you feel like your entire body is throbbing, panting, thumping with want.

“Tae,” You breathe out into his neck, your fingers are digging into his back and his shoulder blades, you can feel his muscles rippling underneath your touch, his body wriggling slightly in pleasure. 

“Please.”

Taehyung pushes, until he is knuckle deep inside of you. The knowledge that he is as turned on as you are - arousal staining each of his shallow breaths, the strain of his hard cock against your thigh - has you clenching around his finger.

You tilt your head back against the wall and let out a thinly suppressed groan, and Taehyung takes the opportunity to lean in and press a kiss to your neck. He glides his finger in and out of you, your wetness allowing him to fuck you out with long, smooth motions. 

“Taehyung, please-” You begin breathlessly, and he looks up at you through hooded eyes. You want him, more of him, you can barely think straight, and you watch as he licks his own lips. You begin to slowly thrust against his hand, letting out a small whimper as he pushes his finger even deeper inside of you.

“Yeah?”

“I want you to-”

“Oh my God!’ A voice cuts through your voice and his ministrations and Taehyung stumbles on top of you messily, shielding your body with his. 

“S-s-sorry, continue-” a voice stammers, you spot a glimpse of Taehyung’s colleague’s shocked face, his retreating figure.

Taehyung hastily pulls away from you, and you seize the opportunity to yank down at your skirt. His eyes are wide, his mouth open in a perfect O, and he stares at you in shocked silence. 

A giggle escapes from your lips.

Taehyung’s eyes widen in surprise and another laugh spills out, you shake your head, trying to control yourself. 

“Sorry,” You begin, your eyes pricking with slight tears as your shoulders shake from a contained giggle. “I shouldn’t be laughing, he’s your co-worker, it’s just…” You suck in for breath and your words tumble out in a fit of giggles. “He looked so scandalized…”

Taehyung’s face lapses into a rueful smile and he runs a hand through his hair, his lips tugging up into a smirk. “Yeah I don’t think he was expecting to see that in the gardening section of the library,” He muses, and you giggle again. 

“He told us to continue on,” You add, and Taehyung’s face splits open into a laugh.

Your laughter fades away, and it is then that you realize that Taehyung is still standing close to you, his arm still curled protectively around your waist. 

You feel fucking delirious, giddy and full. You also feel bold and brave and vibrant, lashes of feelings that you haven’t felt before. 

You swallow. 

A breezy flutter of nerves settles in your stomach but you set your jaw squarely and reach forward. 

Taehyung automatically cradles your hand into his as you open your mouth to pose a question you never thought you would be asking.

“Do you want to come over to my place?”

Taehyung is nervous. As are you. 

It’s evident in the conversation that fills your car as you drive to your place, conversation that neither of you are fully focusing on. Taehyung’s talking about the dewey decimal system, you’re nodding and weaving into the conversation with sounds of agreement. 

Honestly, your brain is completely occupied with the fact that Taehyung is in the front seat of your car on the way to your place. 

You have so many thoughts flying through your head- thoughts ranging from oh God why couldn’t I have put on nicer underwear this morning to I can’t believe this is happening to I want him so badly I’m going to scream. 

You can sense Taehyung’s own nervous state in the way he keeps clearing his throat and flicking through the small stack of CD’s in your car, it isn’t until you finally pull up outside your place that his hand settles on your thigh and you pause to turn to him. 

He smiles at you and reaches up to nip underneath your chin- a gesture has your chest feeling swollen and your nerves muted.

You head into your place, a small but neatly kept flat, and you take in a deep breath as Taehyung leaves his backpack by the door. He gazes around your place carefully, his attention thoroughly absorbed in his surroundings, and he walks up to you’re a frame hanging on your hallway wall. It’s your award of excellence that you received in your second year of college, a prestigious merit scholarship.

“Wow,” Taehyung breathes out and he turns to you with eyes that are wide and glowy and excited. “This is amazing. You’re so smart.” 

He says the words so earnestly that it has your chest squeezing in a way that is unfamiliar but wonderful, and you open and close your mouth a few times.

“Yeah, I guess,” You reply shyly, before a smile dissolves over your face and you glance up, catching Taehyung’s stare. 

“But you might be the smartest person I’ve ever met,” The words tumble out and you feel a heat simmering under your skin, tinging your cheeks a translucent pink. 

“Aside from myself of course.” You stammer out, an add on that softens the edges of your words, and Taehyung’s smile widens.

“Of course.” He teases, his voice lilting slightly.

It’s then that you realize just how close you’re standing to him, your head tilted up to look into his eyes. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, and you can smell him- he smells like shampoo and sage and cedar, and you swallow. Taehyung’s laugh fades, his eyes dilating and his breathing coming out slower, his eyes locked on you.

The thought of how his lips had felt, pressed on yours, floats back in your mind. Taehyung inches even closer to you, his head dipping closer. 

You breathe in, his eyes search yours, and you feel your heart start to accelerate in your chest.

“Taehyung.” You murmur. His eyes are expressive and you can see in them that he wants you, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinks. 

Your eyes trickle down to his lips, full and slightly parted, and you feel a buzz work it’s way up your belly and settle in your ribcage,as he leans in, centimetres away from your lips, pausing.

In a brief moment, your lips touch. It’s a soft kiss – the merest brushing of lips against lips, timid and careful. Taehyung draws back, his eyes searching your face carefully. 

You can feel it, even in that whisper of a touch – there is something deeply embedded in that kiss.

In an instant, his lips find yours, his hand reaching up to cup your face, his fingers resting on your jaw. 

You have no idea who moved first, and you don’t care, because your eyelids are fluttering shut and you feel yourself getting lost in his kisses. 

For a moment you can’t think, your mind completely blank except for an exhilarating rush of feeling everything all at once- his other hand curving around the small of your waist and giving your hip a squeeze, him deepening into the kiss and dipping his head further down as he kisses deeply into your mouth.

You can hardly think, you can feel a hum running from your toes to your belly to your cheeks, as you loop your fingers around Taehyung’s neck. His skin is warm to the touch, and so soft, as you tangle your fingers in his hair. 

You tug him down further into your kisses, and he lets out a groan into your mouth, pinning you against the wall, trapping you in the heat of his body. You can feel the hard surface against your back and Taehyung’s body pressing into you, his hands slipping up from your hips to your waist before they glide under your shirt. 

His hands are warm, they skim over your belly and rest right under your breasts.

His palms linger, the absence of his touch over your breasts has you filled with an aching, gnawing want. Taehyung arches his hips into yours, and you can feel the stir of his erection in his pants, his hard bulge is pressed against your thigh.

A choked moan is drawn out from your lips. 

“Taehyung…” You break away from the pursuit of his kisses, and Taehyung is undeterred, kisses and nibbles trailing down your neck and causing the smouldering lust crackling over your skin to only intensify.

“Hang on,” You pant out, and Taehyung pauses. His breath is coming out in warm swathes of air against your collarbones and you glance down to see his eyes, the slow blinks of his heavy lids, each breath labored and potent with lust.

“Not here,” You continue, and Taehyung leans back a touch, nodding. 

“Right,” He breathes, “Should we…?” 

His voice trails off and your eyes hone in on him yet again. His hair is slightly mussed up from your fingers running through them. He is looking at you carefully, waiting for your response. 

In the low light of the hallway, you rake your eyes over his face. The strong set of his jaw, the focus in his eyes, the seriousness of which he is gazing at you, and you feel a ripple of molten and saccharine sweet longing ease it’s way up your belly.

“My room?” You pant out, the word almost sounds like a beg, your voice is hiked with urgency and his lips quirk up at that. 

He nods, then a half-chuckle half murmur, “Your room.” 

He bends down, and scoops you up effortlessly in to his arms. You feel his arms flex underneath you- he’s stronger than you had initially assumed.

“It’s the room to the left, first door there.”

Your hands clutch around his neck and you can feel the frenzy of his pulse underneath your fingers as Taehyung strides towards your bedroom door. He uses his knee to push open the door. Your bedroom is elapsed in darkness, and he works his way across the floor and places you down on your bed. 

Taehyung leans over and flicks your bedside lamp on. The room is filled with a dim light, and he leans backward, rocking on his heels to gaze at you. 

He has a coy smile on his face as he lowers his body on top of yours. Your hands ravel around his waist as his fingers secure around your chin, tilting your face up to meet his lips in a long kiss.

Your thoughts are filled with urgency, a fiery wildness colours whatever reservations you might have had as you hoist your hips upwards, rutting hard into his cock and relishing the groan that Taehyung lets out against your ear. 

“Y/N,” He moans your name into your ear and his fingers curl around the sheets and you feel that same knocking hunger in your core.

Taehyung’s fingers relax, they curl back out against your mattress.

His hand entangles in your hair, before trailing down to your neck, resting obediently on your collarbones. His fingers dance across your skin, tapping a rhythm against your chest. Finally, his fingers begin unbuttoning your shirt. His eyes are narrowed slightly in concentration as he quickly undoes each of the buttons. 

It’s slow, torturously so and with each button that is freed, you feel the air against your skin. His fingers rest against your skin against your breasts and your stomach for brief, lingering seconds as he works the fabric free, and you can’t help the needy whines that escape your lips.

Taehyung smirks at each sound of your want, and when your shirt is finally open, he pulls your body up in one smooth movement. 

He removes your shirt and tosses it on the floor, immediately capturing your lips in a kiss that has you for a long, intense, glorious few seconds- completely breathless. 

It’s just him, his tongue easing its away into your mouth, the curve of his hands between your shoulderblades and gliding to your shoulders. You grip at Taehyung, holding him tighter to you.

You stay sitting upwards as he pulls away from the kiss, his eyes ticking down to roam over your exposed body. His eyes widen, you see his Adams apple bob in his throat. He swallows, hard.

“You’re…” He mumbles, and then he looks up to stare into your eyes. “You’re really beautiful.” 

A blush blooms over your cheeks at his words, at the sincerity in them. Before you can respond, he pulls you to him and kisses you yet again, filling you with liquid heat. 

His thumbs trace right under your breasts and you are quivering. 

You move your body so that you are sitting on top of Taehyung, wrapping your legs around his waist, straddling him. It’s a little awkward shifting into place, but Taehyung’s palms are flat on the small of your back, his fingers curling around your ass as you finally settle. 

Taehyung moans and tilts his hips against you, you can feel his erection straining against his pants as his thumbs work up and finally, finally brush over the curve of your breasts.

You hiss in at the feeling of his thumb over your skin, working closer and closer to your nipples. You press harder against his mouth, grinding with an insistency against his cock. He is still kissing you, hot, heavy, hungry kisses. 

“Taehyung,” You moan out his name, “It feels so good…” 

He leans back to watch your face as his thumb darts right over your hard nipple. His thumb works a slow, lithe circle around your sensitive nipple before his thumb and index finger stroke over it properly. 

The feeling causes your back to stiffen and you tip your head back, letting out a soft, strangled moan. 

“You sound so hot,” Taehyung grits out the words, leaning forward at the opportunity and eagerly planting kisses along your exposed throat. 

You whimper out at his praise, at the feeling of his lips on your neck and his fingers working on your nipple. 

You are now all too aware of the heavy thud between your legs, the clench of your thighs around his waist and the way you are beginning to slowly, desperately rock your hips into him. 

You are wet, so wet that you can feel it practically pooling your underwear. The damp thud, deep in your core, is a drumbeat.

“So pretty,” Taehyung compliments, he chases his words by giving your other nipple a pinch, his fingers soothing the sensation with light strokes.

You whimper helplessly, your head falling back forward as Taehyung wraps his palm around your breasts and squeezes you, letting out a throaty moan. His eyes flicker in the dark light of your room as he massages you in his hands. 

You reach down with trembling fingers and pull at the hem of his shirt. He obliges, letting go of you to hold his arms out as you tug the white tee off of his head. 

You take in a sharp breath at the sight of him- the dip of his collarbones and the hint of muscles that ripple under his skin. 

Your fingers work against his abdomen, the stretch of skin and tautness of muscle, and you work teasing circles lower and lower down until you are right above his cock. 

His body is stiffened, waiting with a slowly loosening patience. He lets out a tiny choked moan at your tease before you let go and run your hands up his arms.

“You’re killing me here,” He growls lightly, and then his hand is at the back of your neck and he is kissing you again. His hands cup your ass, and you respond by working your body against the strain of his cock. 

His skin against yours, his arms against your back and his bulging cock against your pussy with each roll of your hips. It all has you trembling in want.

“I’m so wet for you right now, you have no idea,” You murmur into his ear. He chuckles, he squeezes your ass in his hands.

“Good.” He responds simply, you enjoy the shiver that runs down his body at your words and the throatiness of his voice. You nip more kisses along his neck.

He tips his head back at the feeling, and you bask in it, at how he reacts to each of your touches, each of your words.  

You are wet, so fucking wet that you feel filthy. All of your senses are wrapped in a film of crimson red want, and you are beginning to feel dizzy from just how badly you want him. You are riled up, your mind stuttering and desperate. You need him, and you need him now.

Taehyung, as if reading your mind, spins you, leans into you, pressing you onto your bed so that you are lying on your back. 

He sits up, and you swallow as his fingers wantonly flit over your body. 

He starts at your collarbones, his fingers dancing over your skin as he grazes over your breasts. When his fingers skim over your nipples, your body stiffens and you let out a soft exhale. 

Taehyung’s eyes flicker with pleasure at your visible reaction. He continues downwards, over your belly until he reaches your skirt. His fingers grasp waist of your skirt and tugs down, easing your skirt and your underwear together off of your legs. 

Your body wriggles on the mattress, and Taehyung lets out a soft groan at the sight of you, bare naked underneath him.

“God,” He mutters his jaw clenches and unclenches and you watch as he brings his hands down to rest on your hip. His fingers are still working careful circles right by the apex of your soaking wet slit. 

The feeling has you suppressing a whine.

“You have such a pretty pussy,” He sighs out. This time, you can’t suppress the whine and Taehyung smiles in satisfaction.

You can see his cock straining against his grey pants. He’s big, and thick, and the sight has you swallowing hard as he slowly places two fingers against your clit and then drags down.

You are wet, so wet that his fingers are immediately coated in your slick wetness. 

Taehyung clicks his tongue at how easily his fingers glide down your slit. Your body writhes, you are falling apart already.

“Baby,” Taehyung murmurs, “Try stay still for me okay?”

The affectionate name slips out of his mouth and you barely have time to dwell on it because his fingers are back at your clit. You clench your jaw, the friction if his fingers swirling circles over your clit sending you into a frenzy of want.

He lowers his body back on top of you, his fingers still working into your wetness. You are needy, you are dripping with it, and your fingers tremble as they reach down to unzip his jeans. 

You are shaky and clumsy and he chuckles.

“You want me, baby?”

You nod desperately as he slips a finger into you, easing it until he is knuckle deep inside. He crooks his finger and you bite down on his shoulder, letting out a choked moan against his skin. 

He pulls his finger out of you. You swallow at the sight of his digit, coated in your wetness. 

“So wet for me.” He comments throatily, and you watch as his eyes flicker with neediness of his own before he tugs his pants off.

Your eyes lock down on the grey fabric that is being tugged off and your eyes widen as you take in the sight of him naked. His thighs, his cock, which is thick and long and stands up with his erection. The tip of his cock pink and slightly glistening with his precum. 

“You’re really,” You pant out, peering over his shoulder to take in his back – the dip of his lower back and the muscles in his shoulders, he has two dimples right above his ass and the tightest, tautest ass and you feel a deep shiver in your belly, “Really fucking hot.”

A smile eases over Taehyung’s face and his eyes crease in the corners before he leans in and chases your lips into a kiss, his fingers reaching down to tease again over your clit. 

“Oh my-” He moans, and you reach down and wrap your fingers around the base of his cock. 

“Fuck.”

It’s thick, and hard in your hand and his breath stutters at the feeling of your dainty hand wrapped around his length. He begins to rock his hips, gliding his cock against you and fucking your hand. 

His fingers are still massaging circles into your clit and you press your head back into the pillow, your eyes squeezing shut in your neediness.

“I want you,” You beg out, impatience peaking to an absolute crescendo.

“Please baby, please.” The words slip out effortlessly as your palm glides over the tip of his cock and Taehyung shifts, placing the tip of his cock at your entrance. 

He pauses, delaying. 

His body pinning you down. 

You are gone, so far gone. His hair is falling in his eyes, his chocolate brown eyes full of lust as he scans over you. 

You can feel it, the tip of his cock brushing against your wetness and you let out a soft plea.

“Please.” 

Taehyung’s eyes flicker and then he leans back down, his lips slamming against yours with a messy, desperate kiss.

And then you feel it. Him, pushing slowly into you. 

You suck in your breath at the feeling of him, his cock stretching you out and pushing against your walls. He eases his cock until it was all the way inside of you. You hear his exhale of pleasure, and your eyes flutter closed. 

For a moment, all the messy desperation is settled, and are blissed out. It’s almost overwhelming how good it feels.

Within moments, it subsides, leaving in its wake a roaring want. You open your eyes to see Taehyung staring down at you. 

“I want you.” You bite out, your words are a demand, and Taehyung nods. 

“Your pussy feels fucking amazing,” He tells you in a voice that is heady and frantic as he begins to rock his cock into you.

He reaches up and laces his fingers through yours, keeping your hands pinned up beside your head as his hips rock deep circles into your core. 

He slides out nearly all the way, causing you to gasp… and then chases the absence with a long, deep thrust of his cock. 

Each dirty, fast slap of skin and the momentum of his cock buried deep inside of you only makes you needier Each gasp and breath and moan that he pulls out of your throat is broken apart and messy and you begin to feel the slow crest of a prickly heat in your core.

Taehyung continues to rut into you, each ministration of his hips against your soaked core causing him to groan. 

“Fuck,” He mutters, “You feel so tight around my cock, it’s…” his voice trails off and he swallows hard. He lets go of your hands and squeezes at your breasts, kneading them in his palms, and you moan loudly as your hands reach up to the canvas of his back. 

Your nails dig desperate patterns into his skin as you tilt your head back, Taehyung hitting deeper into you. Each slickened thrust is accompanied with a deep roll of his hips so that he is right there inside of you, causing you to feel choked with how close you are.

“Taehyung,” You pant out breathlessly, “I’m so close…” 

“Shit,” He mutters back, “You look so hot, it’s making me so damn hard.”

You bury your face into his neck and bite down on the skin there, moaning into him and trying to mask your sounds of pleasure. 

He reaches down and darts a finger against your clit as he continues to fuck into you, he reaches up with his other hand and grips the headboard above your heads. He holds himself in place as he continues to fuck into you with a ferocity that has you close to screaming. 

Your entire body moves with each of his thrusts, and you moan into his skin, biting down hard into his shoulder as your eyes squeeze shut.

“Gonna cum for me aren’t you, baby girl?” Taehyung grits, he slips another finger against your clit and the feeling of it has your thighs clenching tight.

“Y-y-yes,” You moan out, enjoying the constant groans and mewls he lets out with each thrust. You felt your eyes roll in your head and you gasp as as Taehyung angles his cock upwards. You feel light and heavy all at once and there is a white heat pooling in your belly.

“Fuck, I’m going to, fuck, please don’t stop, please-” Your words tumble out in a desperate rush and Taehyung moans, snapping his head down to look at you.

He keeps two fingers against your clit as the clutches you against him, fucking into your harder and faster and deeper. 

His eyes are locked on your face, and you keep your eyes trained on him. His hair, falling into his eyes, the sweat dotting his forehead with a slight sheen. The way his lips are parted, the dilated pupils of his eyes, how now- he is beautiful and masculine, all curves and edges.

“Oh my God oh my God oh my God,” You chant out brokenly as your orgasm breaks over you like a wave. 

You fall completely silent as it courses through your body, Taehyung slows his thrusts as you writhe beneath him.

“So fucking pretty when you cum.” Taehyung murmurs. You are faintly aware of him planting a kiss on your cheek and on your neck as you shiver in pleasure beneath him. The satisfaction riding through your body is long and overwhelming. 

Eventually your breath slows, it evens, and you feel the glow dissolving over your body, molten and warm and easy. 

“Oh my God,” The word is sung out in a sigh, and Taehyung smiles. 

“I came so hard.” You murmur, half in awe, half in mock complaint. Taehyung leans closer and presses a coy, delicate kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“You want more?”

Your body reacts before you speak, you curve up into him and nod. 

“Yes,” You mumble, and Taehyung pushes himself into you again. 

“Mmmm.” Taehyung’s low voice rumbles against your skin and you revel in it, your body sated and warm, a hazy prickle of desire growing in your belly with each buck of Taehyung’s cock. 

“You screwed me so good,” You hum, Taehyung’s head darts up. His eyes focus on you and his eyes are widened, rapt in you. He’s close, you can see it in the clench of his jaw and the tiny mewls that rip out of his throat. 

“I came so hard, God, your cock feels amazing…” Taehyung’s eyes flash at your words as he continues to fuck into of you. 

“Yeah?” He grunts, and you nod. 

“Hmmm, you made me so wet before you fucked me, I was practically begging for it,” You confess, and Taehyung smirks, his eyes flickering. 

He is close, you can read it on his face. You dig your nails into his back teasingly. 

“I can’t wait to feel your cum filling me up,” You purr, “Make sure you cum deep inside of me so I can feel it all night, okay?”

Taehyung lets out choked noise at your words, his eyes widening. “Fuck,” He grunts, “I’m…” His voice trail off and his thighs tense as he slams into you, three messy, sloppy, desperate thrusts before he let out a deep moan, his face burying into the crook of your neck and shoulder as he orgasms. 

His lips are at your ear, and you hear each whine and moan and shiver of his as he rides out his orgasm.

He stays like that for a moment, gathering himself. 

Finally, he pulls back and rolls onto his side. Your eyelids flutter closed as he kisses your cheek and then the corner of your mouth, before placing a kiss on your lips. 

He kisses you sweetly, tenderly, before he pulls back. You open your eyes to see him smiling down at you, his eyes soft and warm.

He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. He pulls out of you carefuly, and you wince at the feeling of your swollen pussy. He reaches over and grabs the tissue box kept by your bed, tugging out some tissues and dabbing carefully between your legs before he tosses the tissues in the bin.

He wriggles up beside you and wraps his arms around your waist. He crooks around your body like a comma and yawns into your hair. You begin to feel a sated, glowy drowsiness settle into you as he entangles his fingers with yours, holding you close against his chest. 

“That was…” He mumbles into your hair, his voice trailing off.

“Yeah,” You finish faintly, and you smile to yourself. Taehyung chuckles, his chest vibrating, and you laugh too.

“Tired?” He questions softly, and you nod, your head bobbing up and down as the tiredness exhales out of your chest in the shape of a sigh.

“Uh huh.” Taehyung’s arms circle around you tighter.

“Me too,” He comments softly. 

You feel Taehyung kiss the back of your head before he hums to himself sleepily. It’s a melody that doesn’t fully make sense, but it soothes at you. 

He moves his head, shifting to get comfortable as his hums slowly fade off into silence. 

Your eyelids are heavy, and they droop closed as you fall asleep in Taehyung’s arms.

Taehyung slots into your life effortlessly.

While the sun lapses into the horizon earlier and earlier with each passing summer day, you sit at the same desk in your local library. Taehyung is always at the front desk. 

One day his legs are kicked up on the table while he squints down at the book in his hands, the next day he’s hunched over his phone, peering down in fierce concentration at the app game that he wants to get a top score in. 

No matter what he’s doing, you find yourself sneaking glances at him as you study. You take in the way his eyes narrow when he concentrates, the mannerisms of his - like how he licks his lips absently when he’s deep in thought. 

You notice how Taehyung often seems to go through a complete spectrum of emotions in the space of five minutes sometimes, tiny micro-expressions and emotions that fall over his face as he turns the pages of a book. 

Or how, when he’s hungry, he wrinkles his nose and places a palm over his stomach and frowns. Basically, you notice anything and everything about Kim Taehyung.

Even more times though, you find yourself lifting your eyes during a moment of passing to see him gazing directly at you. 

Each time, he is wearing that smile, and his eyes linger over you. His eyes are intent, piercing, and you hve to tear your eyes away and try to fight the blush that is melting a rosy glow over your cheeks.

When the library is closed, and the sky is streaky with blue and grey, you and Taehyung leave together. Some nights, you get a bite to eat- dumplings pinched between oily chopsticks and snippets of conversation that vary from Taehyung arguing with you about what the best kind of chocolate is (‘Hersheys kisses are bomb don’t even try to fight me on this!” “They’re average and you know it.”) to more serious conversations where Taehyung’s eyes wander and turn glassy in hesitation as he admits thoughts and secrets that you gloss over with kisses and words of comfort. 

Other nights though, you end up clutching one another’s bodies in between your sheets - or his. You exchange kiss after kiss after kiss. They start off as furious kisses, kissing as if you are running out of time. Kissing as if you are desperate to extract every last inch from each other’s mouths. 

Eventually, as the night wears on, your kisses slow into languid ones. Eyelashes fluttering against each other, bodies held close and Taehyung staring into your eyes until your heart feels swollen and transparent, and so utterly fragile that it might viably burst into pieces at any given moment.

You have no idea when that happened. When the lines that so clearly distinguished you from Taehyung became so blurred. When he stopped being irritating, an obstacle, a rival… and became something else entirely. 

Taehyung has slotted himself into your life so simply, slipping into your schedule with so much ease. Taehyung seems to read you and understand you more thoroughly than anyone has ever before. It’s in how he instinctively places his fingers on your shoulders and works the muscles there, aching from studying all day. How he senses that you are craving sugar, and after filling his car with gas, pulls two cheap chocolate ice creams from behind his back with a knowing grin.

You adapt to him quickly, and he adapts to you. It’s like, in an odd way, he was always meant to be there.

“Do you ever think about the fact that only five percent of the ocean has been discovered?” Taehyung asks randomly. “It’s so sad. Don’t you think it’s sad?” 

His arms are holding you to his chest, his lips pressed absently to your shoulder. He mumbles the question against your skin and you roll your eyes, shoving him away. 

He barely reacts, instead, he clings to you tighter. The tiniest of smiles fights it’s way to the surface and you tilt your head to hide the grin tugging on the corner of your mouth.

“What kind of question is that?” You respond instead, and Taehyung shrugs. He doesn’t move, he just stays where he is, his arms looped thoughtlessly around you. Yet you can practically feel his shoulders shrugging up and down. You wonder absently when exactly that happened, when you started reading him just as well as he could read you.

“It’s not sad. Maybe some things are better left undiscovered. At least until a later date, you know? One day we’ll explore the other 95% of it. There’s no use getting sad over things that will eventually come to fruition.” 

“Yeah.” Taehyung mumbles. “That’s cool.” 

“Cool?” You exclaim in mock irritation, “I give you that super thoughtful answer and all I get is that’s cool?” 

You shift so that you are facing him. Taehyung’s cheek is squished from where he is lying down on your pillow, his dark eyes playful.

Taehyung just bats his lids at you in an exaggerated fashion that is just so unmistakably Taehyung, and then his face lapses into a grin.

“I think you’re cool.” He says instead, a light comment that is tossed at you with a casual air, but it strikes a nerve and you falter.

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. You have never wanted to be cool, you have never cared about being cool. ‘Cool is a social construct’, your own words, recited to yourself in your own reflection when you felt the pangs of doubt about what you were doing with your life and the things you were choosing to spend your time on. 

But there is something about this boy with dark chocolate eyes and a sage smile on his face that has a nerve twinging in your chest. 

“Taehyung…” Your breathe. “I…” Your voice is small, and it fades into silence as you fidget, your fingers gripping at your sheets. 

The playfulness falls from Taehyung’s eyes, replaced by something else. He stares at you with a scrutiny that has you shaky, he is staring at you like he is drinking every inch of you in. 

His eyes are not analytical, they are soft, tender, and full. You feel your heart swell and you feel it swell everywhere, in your bones and in your chest and fluttering throughout every vein in your body.

“Y/N,” Taehyung says softly. “I need to tell you something, okay?”

He gently pushes away from you and sits up in your bed. His hair is messy, his eyes solemn. He doesn’t wait for you to answer, he links his fingers together and stares directly at you.

“I like this.” He says in a matter of fact tone. “You and me.” His eyes pierce into yours and your shoulders stiffen. 

“I have fun with you,” He says, “You make me want to be a better guy.” He continues, “And…” His shoulders shrug up and down, you can feel him shrugging before his shoulders even move. “It just feels right.” 

He states simply, and lifts his eyes to meet yours. You haven’t spoken, words that haven’t fully formed are trapped in your throat.

“I know there’s the grad program.” Taehyung continues. “And realistically, yeah. Only one of us will get in. But I’ve been looking into it, and there’s a lot of other great programs out there, you know? This one program isn’t the be all and end all.” 

Your breath locks in your throat at Taehyung’s words, at the eagerness that is beginning to slip into his tone. 

Your mind wrangles with that- the thought of him, the boy with the loud laugh surrounded by a group of friends, the boy who nibbles on his pens while he studies, the boy who is sitting opposite you now with earnest eyes and hopeful words. 

You consider it- the thought of your future changing. The image you always pictured shifting to include him.

“And yeah, if I don’t get into the grad program, if you don’t… at least there are options you know? For me, for you, for… us.” Taehyung adds shyly. 

You freeze at the mention of the grad program, at the prospect of not getting in. You snap into focus, you grab at it, the concrete memory of all the years of work you have put into this, years spent alone and isolated. 

“I mean, I’m pretty sure you’ll get in but I mean-”

“And what?” Your voice slices through Taehyung’s and it’s harsher than you expected. “This, us, will continue on? You really think so?”

Taehyung’s eyes flash in confusion and he tilts his head to you. He is clearly caught off guard by your rapid fire words. 

“I-” he begins, but you continue on.

“This is just fun. It’s not serious. I don’t have time for this.” Your voice is clear, strong, concealing the shake you are beginning to feel in your body. 

Taehyung’s mouth is open in surprise as he stares at you, and you fold your arms over your chest and fling your legs around your side of the bed. You stand up, throwing on your clothes hastily. You are beginning to panic, you can feel it rising in your chest. 

It just doesn’t seem real, Taehyung, this, sitting in your bed talking about the future and the grad program. You weren’t supposed to get deep into anything at this point in your life, let alone something like this, someone like Taehyung.

“Y/N I was just-” Taehyung begins. You turn, focusing your attention on him. Your face is cool, indifferent, as you fold your arms tightly over your chest. 

“Sorry but what you just suggested? I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Taehyung sighs. He pulls himself off of the bed and stands in front of you, his palms resting on the sides of your arms.

“I care about you.” He says softly. “So much-”

“I don’t have time for this.” 

Taehyung’s hands hover in the air as his face falls. 

“I-”

“I think- I think maybe we’re getting too deep into things, I don’t have time-”

“You don’t have time?” Taehyung repeats in disbelief. 

His lips press into a line and he stares at you and you stare at the floor, because your heart is thudding in your chest and you don’t know why… but you’re pushing Taehyung away as hard as you can.

“I just don’t feel the same way about you.” You say finally. You lie, the words feel bitter as they are pulled through your teeth. 

You glance up to see Taehyung’s face, crestfallen. He stares at you for a long moment and you swallow. Taehyung reaches up, rubs a palm against the back of his head before he nods.

“Got it.” He says in a tiny voice, and he turns, bending down to scoop up his clothes. 

You stand there, wondering why exactly you just said that, why you did that, watching as Taehyung pulls his jumper over his head and wriggles into his jeans.

You watch as he leaves. He doesn’t say a word, he just walks out. And you stare at the door for a long moment, feeling numb and awful. You repeat to yourself that it was just a crush, nothing more, that Taehyung is better off without you and you are better off without the distraction. 

As you curl back into bed, his scent is still lingering in your pillows and your sheets, and you try to convince yourself that this is the right thing to do.

The first thing you notice is how quiet your day is.

You wake up, you eat breakfast, you study throughout the day and watch as the sun sets outside your window. 

You watch as the sun sinks into the skyline, and you try your hardest to not think about the quiet local library and the boy who works there. 

You sit in your living room, a lonely figure by the dim light of your reading lamp, and try to think about anything else. 

You fail every time. 

Your life has returned to what it was. The same life you have lived for as long as you can remember. 

But you don’t remember it being so quiet. 

There is no sound of pages turning, of that deep voice humming in time with each scratch of the pen against paper. No random questions asked at the strangest of moments, no nibbles of teeth against pen caps. 

Everything is quiet.

You busy yourself, you distract yourself with studies and you throw yourself into a world of hard and unrelenting textbooks, and questions and answers, until your mind is exhausted. 

You push yourself, but even as exhausted as you are, Taehyung works his way into your thoughts constantly.

Class starts again after the summer break and while at first you took long routes to classes, avoiding busy spots to save yourself the awkwardness of seeing him… you stop trying to avoid him and start trying to find him. It feels like you are a chasing a ghost around your campus- looking for the telltale timber of his laugh, your eyes carding through his group of friends every time you pass them.

While his presence seems to linger in your thoughts, you don’t see him around, and you realize with a startling clarity just how much you miss him.

When two weeks pass and you haven’t even so much as caught a glimpse of Kim Taehyung, you wander into your University library. It is huge, towering bookshelves and librarians who are clipped and serious and hey, actually helpful. 

You miss Taehyung, you miss glancing up and seeing him smiling at you from his chipped front desk. 

When three weeks pass, you return to the library. You go in the morning, and you spot Taehyung’s chair, vacant before the start of his shift. 

The telltale signs of Taehyung are all over the desk- a Rubiks cube that has been solved, a small stack of books, a half eaten bag of honey butter chips. 

You wander your way through the shelves of the library until you find what you are looking for. A small book, it is a novella more than a full novel, worn down with a creased spine and yellowed pages. 

It’s the first book that Taehyung recommended to you, back during that first day you had spoken properly, right here in this very library.

You lend it out, and you fold your legs underneath you in your bedroom later that night as you read. 

It’s not your usual kind of book- a lyrical short story that has an embedded, deeper meaning. You find your mind getting restless as you begin the book, but you push on. Eventually you are enthralled and you read it until the sky is purple-blue and it’s deep into the evening. 

When you get to the last page, a small note flutters out. 

It’s not so much a note as a ripped out corner of a page of scrap paper, a few messy words scrawled into it. Sloping, scribbled handwriting that you recognize, handwriting that has your heart leaping in your chest.

You loved it, right? Told you so!

Taehyung had recommended you six books. You lend each one out and after college, after studying, you devour them. 

They’re an eclectic mix of novels- from a classic literature piece to modern light hearted fiction, to a book of poetry, to a non fiction collection of essays about architectural design. 

There is no seeming link connecting the books, except Taehyung. 

You read each book until you have turned the last page, and that same telltale ripped out corner of paper floats out. The notes are always short, snippets really - Never doubt the recommendations of the one and only Kim Taehyung!! on one, I reckon I could be an architect if I wanted to as a back up career. Thoughts? (also how inspiring is this book!) scrawled in the design book, and no 45 is my favourite but no 32 rocks in the book of poems.

The last book that Taehyung recommended to you is a novel. You cry while reading it, fat tears that roll off of your lashes and down your cheeks. It is a novel that speaks about love, about yearning, about the flickering embers of the soul. A soul book, for lack of better words. It is moving, and you hesitate on the last few pages, not wanting to turn them. 

For the first time in all of Taehyung’s recommendations, not wanting to reach the last page.

When you turn the last page, that same scrap piece of paper that you always look forward to slips out. 

You pick it up and turn it over, imagining him sitting at his desk in the library, hurriedly writing it out, slipping it into the pages and then onto the shelves. 

As you read it, your heart stops.

This is my favourite book of all time. I cry every time I read it. I reread it recently and thought of you tbh. I really hope you love it. 

Your heart gives out. You have tried so hard to keep it neatly locked away, to keep your life sectioned into organized pieces. 

You have been pushing Taehyung away since the moment his eyes met yours.

You have been so scared to let him in, so afraid to let yourself fully submerge in the comfort you feel in his arms, in the calm that envelops you when Taehyung runs a hand through your hair or gently digs his fingers into your palms.

You had never thought you would meet someone who got you. Your entire life, no one had clicked with you. No one had read you and taken the time to analyze you, to understand you, to love you. Until Kim Taehyung. 

Taehyung, who flicked you with his bitten pens and made you groan in irritation, Taehyung who linked his arms around your waist and held you as tight to him as humanly possible, Taehyung who stared at you with wide inquisitive eyes as if you were the most interesting, fascinating novel in the world and he couldn’t stop turning the pages.

You stare down at your lap, at the closed book sitting there, at the tiny scrap of paper in your hands. 

The little thought scribbled out from Taehyung’s mind, from his huge heart, and you think back to his words right here in your bed only a month ago. His eyes, earnest and warm, his husky voice telling you that he cared about you.

Your hands are shaky, because you are still scared. 

You stand up again, turning away from your bed, much like you did four weeks ago. Your eyes glance over at your bedroom window, at the sun, which is beginning to dissolve into the skyline. A buttery gold haze that is slowly fading into evening.

You stand up. You clutch the book in your hands. You stare at the door.

Logically, you divide your choices into two. 

You can take a risk, you can stop trying to control every part of your life and your future, you can let someone in and you can stop being so hard on yourself. Or you can return to comfort, to a life of neat lines and familiarity.

You have a choice. Two options. 

You glance down at the book clutched in your hand, at your bedroom, lapsed in the last few fragments of sunlight before the sun fully sets into the horizon.

And you think about the boy in the library.

He doesn’t look up as you march up to his desk. Your hands are trembling, each footstep loud, but he doesn’t look up. 

He is reading, biting his lip in concentration. He’s studying, you realize as you approach. 

You haven’t seen him in a month and he looks the same, honey caramel hair, long eyelashes that lazily blink as he scans the pages. 

His hair has grown longer since you last saw it, it’s curling slightly at the edges. He has faint circles under his eyes, but they are the same- focused and intense and piercing, eyes that make you weak even when they aren’t directed on you. He is wearing a shirt with oversized sleeves and he has to keep pushing them up as he scribbles out some notes.

“How can I help you?” He doesn’t look up, he asks the question absently and distractedly and your mind flashes back to your words, clipped and cold, you are a terrible librarian. A smile ghosts over your lips and you drop the book on his desk.

“I’d like to return this book please.”

His head jerks up and his eyes meet yours. Warmth floods your chest, and you see the surprise register across his face. 

Taehyung blinks.

“Did you enjoy it?” He asks finally, you can hear the uncertainty that filters through his words.

“I did.” You say, your voice is trembling. “I loved it, actually.”

Taehyung blinks again, his eyelashes flutter up and down rapidly as if he is trying to process his thoughts. He looks down at the book. 

“Oh.”

“I-” You begin, and you tremble. “I read your notes in all the books you recommended to me.”

Taehyung lets out a wry laugh, he still doesn’t look up. He is still staring at the book, his hands still folded in his lap. 

“Oh. Ha. So they were still there even after all this time. I was beginning to think some random person would end up reading them.” 

He cracks a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and you can see the hurt that flashes over his face. You swallow.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt out, and Taehyung just looks at you.

“Y/N-” He begins, and you can hear it in his voice, hesitation and uncertainty. Your heart pangs.

“Conceptual Theory Volume 1,” You blurt out, and Taehyung pauses. Confusion flits through his eyes but you continue on bravely. “The first textbook I had to read for college, I had an exam on that content and I got an average grade. I reread that textbook five times after I got my results.”

Taehyung falls silent. 

“The Consolations of Philosophy. I was reading it the day that you joined my class. I reread the same page fourteen times because I couldn’t concentrate when you were there.”

Taehyung looks up, his eyes meet yours. You’re trembling but you continue on.

“The Little Prince,” You say, “Was the first book that I read and fell in love with when I was a kid. I used to dream about meeting someone like that one day. I read it every week until I turned fifteen.”

A softness settles into the lines of Taehyung’s face, his lips quirk in the corners.

“That book.” You say, your voice wavers and you nod to the book that is still sitting in front of Taehyung, “Is the a book that was recommended to me by this guy who I thought was my competition. A guy I thought would bring me down. I was wrong. I was also scared. I was trying to pretend that… that he wasn’t important to me, when in fact he is. When in fact think I might be falling in love with him.”

Taehyung is still staring. You swallow and you nod. 

“I… yeah. They’re my book recommendations. You gave me yours so I feel it’s only fair to give mine back.” 

You feel like you are about to faint. There is a sharp tug of fear and discord in your chest, because this is so utterly out of your comfort zone. 

Yet you feel frozen into place, like there is nowhere else that you are supposed to be but here, your eyes locked with Taehyung’s. 

“That’s,” Taehyung says finally, “A pretty good list of recommendations.” 

He stares at you with soft eyes, and you feel a hope spring in your throat. 

“It’s getting there.” You respond nervously, “I mean I don’t know if I actually recommend them, the theory textbook is actually pretty boring-”

Your words are cut short by Taehyung standing up, the screech of his chair filling the quiet of the library. 

He leans across his desk, and cups your face in his hands, his palms grazing your cheeks and he pulls you in, capturing your lips in a kiss.

You are aware of small fragments only at first. 

His fingers, gripped tenderly around your jaw, brushing  against your skin. 

The sound of your soft gasp into his mouth, a gasp that quickly fades into a sigh. 

The headiness of his scent, the taste of his lips, his tongue that carefully darts over your bottom lip and seeks entrance. 

And most of all, the unfurling glow in your chest from him, from Taehyung.

He pulls away from you slowly, he blinks, and you feel like you are about to melt right then and there. Your eyes track over his face, mapping over every curve of his features, and you watch as he runs his thumb underneath your chin. 

An affectionate touch, accompanied by that smile- the smile that works over his face and eases into your chest. 

His smile you hadn’t realized you missed so intensely until it’s right here in front of you.

“I think I’m falling in love with you too.” He adds, and he tilts his head and his eyes crease in the corners, and you feel like you are giddy, a laugh bubbling on your lips as you nod. 

You don’t even know why you are nodding but you are, and Taehyung leans in to chase his words with a nip of his lips against yours, a kiss that is sweet and soft and slow and painfully short.

“I finish work in five.” He explains as he draws away, that same smile on his lips. “And I actually have to do this very important task before I go. In the gardening section. I could use your help actually.” He works his away around the desk, striding quickly until he is front of you.

You laugh softly at his words, he squeezes your hand.

“Is that so?” You ask, and he nods solemnly, leading you through the bookshelves. 

You follow him, and you think about how different your life had been only a few months ago. 

You think about how you had been so knotted up in doubts and stress before, and how now you feel an easiness in your heart, a sense of assurance. 

You look at Taehyung, his slender fingers linked in yours. He turns over his shoulder to smile at you, his lips turned up playfully and a tenderness in his eyes that makes your heart race. 

“Taehyung,” You say as your bodies tumble into the small space in between the bookshelves. His eyes fall on you, expectant, and you smile. 

There are million things you could say, a thousand words that are there. One day, you think to yourself, you’ll say them all to him. 

One day you’ll figure out the perfect combination of words to express everything you’re feeling. Everything that you can’t put into adequate enough words right now. 

For now, you pull him in closer. You stare into his eyes, you smile.

And you say everything with a kiss.

amynote: thank you to the person who submitted this request, i hope you enjoyed ♡

#taehyung smut #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #bts smut #taehyung scenarios #taehyung x reader #bts scenarios #bts college au #taehyung college au #bts fluff #smut fluff

[imjustthemechanic]

Natalie Jones and the Golden Ship

Part 1/? - A Meeting at the Palace

I’m going to regret this, but this is the sequel to Natalie Jones and the Stone Knight.  The Committee for the Appraisal of Archaeological Peril are given their first proper job - looking after a possibly-cursed mummy.  As it turns out, though, the three-thousand-year-old corpse of Princess Sitamun is going to be the least of their problems...

It was a rainy day in September when the committee for the Appraisal of Archaeological Peril met for the second time at Buckingham Palace.

It was a very informal meeting, but then, their first official gathering, two months earlier, had been pretty informal, too.  They were an ad hoc department, with no regalia, no buildings, no documents, and no particular qualifications for membership other than having been at the Battle of the Tower and the Queen liking you.  There’d been some hints that this new meeting would resolve at least some of these deficiencies, but Natasha Romanov – who for the past few years had been calling herself Natalie Jones and saw no reason to stop now – hoped not too many.  The last thing she wanted was to be part of the pomp and bombast of proper British government.

A valet took her car at the end of the Mall, and two guards escorted her through the sea of tourists’ umbrellas and opened the gate for her.  There, she was just in time to meet a second member of the Committee – Dr. Sam Wilson, their medical expert.  He grinned and waved to her.

“Natalie!” he said.  “How’ve you been?”

“Not bad!”  Nat gave him a quick hug, and then both, with the guards, hurried across the sprawling pavement towards the palace steps.  “I’m still working in the archaeology department at Dundee,” she told him, raising her voice as thunder rumbled overhead.  “I’ve noticed my students are much more polite this year!” Her deeds at the Battle of the Tower, and her past as a Soviet spy, had been international news that summer.

Once on the palace porch the rain could no longer reach them.  Nat took down the hood of her jacket, and Sam pulled his hat off.

“What are you up to?” she asked, as the doormen let them inside.

“I’m working at Raptor Rescue near Eccleshall,” he replied.

“Good for you,” Nat nodded.  “Do the birds complain?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” said Sam.  “I thought people were whiny, but no – and the bigger the bird, the more of a baby they are.  There was this Golden Eagle, we named her Margo, who swore up and down that she was dying when all she had was an infected talon.  We amputated the toe and gave her some antibiotics, and she’s back in the wild now.”

“That’s wonderful,” Nat said, smiling warmly as she gave her wet jacket to a butler.  She would be the first to admit that her sense of empathy was badly stunted, but even to her there was something heartwarming about Sam not only getting to talk to birds like Sir Sigurd in the fairy tale, but finding a useful application for it.

The butler took their jackets away, and another man in a uniform entered the red-carpeted foyer.  “Sir Samuel? Lady Natalie?” he asked, startling two people who were more used to being addressed as ‘Doctor’.  “Her Majesty is waiting for you.  If you would come with me, please.”

They climbed a flight of stairs with an ornate, scrolling gilded railing, and followed a hallway lined with mirrors and elaborate candelabras.  Halfway down this they stopped outside a set of carved wooden doors, where three more Committee members were waiting.

These were good friends as far as Natasha and Sam were concerned, and there were more hugs and handshakes as everybody exchanged greetings.  Detective Inspector Sharon Carter was still working for the police in Inverness.  Sir Stephen of Rogsey spent most of his time there, too, in order to be close to Sharon while he took online courses to catch up on the science and history he’d missed while being turned to stone for a thousand years.  The third individual with them was a man in his sixties, short and a little overweight, with blue eyes and shaggy graying hair.   He smiled and raised a hand to greet Natasha first.

“Hi, Ginger Snap!” he said.

“Hi, Dad!”  Nat went up to hug him, too – he held her tight, and lifted her slightly off her feet. “Sorry I haven’t been emailing. It’s been very busy since the school year started.”

“I bet it has,” said Allen Jones, setting her down again.  “I hear you’re giving a talk on the Grail legend at Yale next year.”

“Yeah.  Apparently I’m an expert on it now or something.”  Nat rolled her eyes – the real thing had turned out to be very different from the stories.  “I still need to figure out what I’m going to say… I’ll probably do all the research and throw something together the night before.  How’s Blackpool?”  Allen was working there as an electrician.

“Damp,” he said, “but it’s actually nice to be back to work.  Retirement was getting boring.”

Sam looked around at everybody gathered.  Someone was missing.  “Where’s Francis?” he asked.  The sixth member of the Committee was Clint Francis from Barton-in-Fabis in Nottinghamshire, a man who’d briefly believed himself to be Robin Hood.  The delusion hadn’t lasted long, but when he got his memory back he’d been able to retain the legendary outlaw’s skill at archery.

“He texted,” said Sharon.  “Apparently he missed the train he was supposed to take and had to get a cab, so he’ll be here, just late.”

“That sounds about right,” Nat nodded.

“Guess what?”  Sharon looped her arm through Sir Stephen’s and smiled proudly.  “Steve got a job!”

“Good for him!” said Allen.  “What’s he doing?”

“There is a chapel in the city of Inverness with a very fine stained glass window depicting the martyrdom of Saint Andrew the Apostle,” Sir Stephen explained. “The window was damaged by some godless vandals and since I am familiar with the painting of glass, the city has engaged me to repair it, using as much of the original glass as possible and painting the new pieces to match.”

“That’s perfect,” said Nat.  Before the Lady of the Lake had made him a warrior, Sir Stephen had wanted to be a painter.  Restoring medieval windows was ideal, and would keep the restless man from getting bored.

The carved door opened, and two security men in elegantly tailored suits emerged to check everybody’s identification one last time.  Once they were satisfied, the taller one opened the door wide to show them in.  “Right this way,” he said.  “Her Majesty the Queen and his Grace the Earl of Dudley are inside.”

Beyond the doors was an immense drawing room with turquoise rugs, filled with gilded furniture and hung with portraits of people in wigs and fancy coats, many of them larger than life-sized.  General Fury, the recently-created Earl of Dudley, was waiting just inside.  He greeted them with a smile.  Fury was the head of the CAAP, although he hadn’t yet had the opportunity to do anything in that capacity and appeared to have hoped he never would.  He had also made it known that he hated the idea of having a title, which was perhaps why he was dressed in his military uniform, with an eyepatch.

“What happened to the glass eye?” asked Sam.

“My granddaughters like the patch better,” Fury replied.  “Apparently it makes me look like a pirate.  It’ll get old eventually and they’ll start to miss me popping the glass eye out and back in again.”

“Down here!” called a voice from the far end of the room.

There, on an elaborately carved and brocaded Louis the Fifteenth sofa with many embroidered cushions, was the Queen of England.  It was only ten AM, but she already had a drink in her hand, and was watching somebody feed pieces of haggis to one of her corgis on the seat beside her. She was dressed in a shade of fuchsia that clashed violently with the turquoise carpeting, and made it difficult to look directly at her.  From what Nat knew of the Queen, she’d done this on purpose.

“Nice to see you all looking well,” said the Queen, as they gathered around her – standing, since even knights and ladies didn’t sit in the presence of the monarch without special permission.  “Sir Stephen, you’re looking as offensively attractive as ever.  Where’s the sixth guy?”

“He missed the train,” said Sam.  “He’s on his way.”

“Figures,” said the Queen.  She tossed back the rest of her drink and held out the glass for one of her servants to refill.  “Well, I’ve a lot to do today.  I’m opening a women’s centre in Vauxhall at lunchtime, and then I’m heading up to Suffolk to look for a stud.”

There was a pause.  The Queen waited for one of them to say something, but nobody dared.

“For my stables,” she finally added, disappointed.  “So let’s get down to business.  I’ve got a surprise for you!  Stop looming over me like bloody Stonehenge and I’ll show you.”

The six present members of the CAAP murmured thanks and arranged themselves on the sofas and ottomans around her.  The corgi regarded them with suspicious eyes, but was soon distracted by the haggis again.

“First of all,” the Queen said, “We got these.  Michaels, come here.”

One of the men in suits – evidently Mr. Michaels – stepped forward to hand out leather-bound booklets the size of passports.  The black covers were undecorated, but when Natasha opened hers she found a photograph of herself with her name and an identification number on one side, and on the other a gold badge with a stylized depiction of the White Tower behind the image of Sir Stephen’s magical shield, with supporters. Instead of the traditional British lion and unicorn, these were a gorilla and a sabre-toothed tiger, two of the sculptures that had come to life in the Tower grounds.  The whole thing was surrounded by a wreath of ivy, and at the bottom was a banner that said Committee for the Appraisal of Archaeological Peril.

“The College of Heralds finally came up with something I didn’t hate,” the Queen said, “so we are pleased to present you with badges.  Museums and archaeological sites across the country and our remaining overseas territories have instructions to let you in if you’ve got one of these.  Promise me you won’t use them to rob anyone.”

“I’ll give Mr. Francis his, if and when he shows up,” said Natasha, taking Clint’s badge too.  She looked over at Allen, who was smiling and shaking his head as he looked at his own. He’d ever imagined he’d have anything like it.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” said Fury formally.  He tucked his into his breast pocket.

“Second,” the Queen went on, “we’ve got your first proper assignment.”

That made everyone look up.  Exactly what the CAAP was supposed to do was a little uncertain.  The Holy Grail and Kracness Circle had been some very perilous archaeology, but nobody was sure what else might be in that category.

“As you may have read in the news,” said the Queen, “the Victoria and Albert is giving the sarcophagus of Princess Sitamun back to Egypt, mummy and all.  It’s some sort of gesture of reconciliation, or something like that, although as I understand it, it was the French who stole the damned thing.  It’s being put on a train next week to go to Cairo, where a Dr. Mostafa will take charge of moving it to their museum.  The folks in charge are a bit worried about the whole affair and have requested that you go along.”

“In case the mummy gets up?” asked Sharon.

“Seems so.”  The Queen shrugged.  “It’s a mummy – there’s probably six different curses on the moldy old bitch and they’re taking no chances.”

Nat looked around at the others.  Babysitting a corpse wasn’t exactly the sort of thing they’d had in mind when they agreed to be a part of this organization, but there were probably far worse things they could have been asked to do.

“So we just drop the mummy off in Egypt and then we come home?” she asked.

“You can sightsee a bit.  I won’t stop you,” said the Queen.  “But that’s all the museum folks want, is you tagging along just in case.”

“We can do that,” Sharon decided.

“Absolutely,” Natasha agreed.

“I always wanted to see the pyramids,” said Allen.

“Wonderful!” said the Queen.  “I’ll let them know and they can give you the departure information.  Now, does anybody want a drink before I run off?”

They turned down alcohol, since it was still early in the morning, but did allow the butler to serve them tea and coffee.  The Queen puttered off with her corgi trotting behind her, but Fury stayed a bit to chat – and ten minutes after her Majesty had left, Clint Francis arrived.  He was soaking wet and carrying a Starbucks cup in one hand, and panting as he was escorted in by two guards who were jogging to keep up with him.

“Hi!” he said cheerfully.  “What did I miss?”

#fanfic #natasha romanov #steve rogers #sharon carter #sam wilson #clint barton