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You saw me bludgeoned by circumstance. Lost, injured, hurt by chance. I screamed to the heavens... loudly screamed... Trying to change our nightmares into dreams... The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance our long way home. I was always yours to have. You were always mine. We have loved each other, in and out, in and out, in and out of time. - In and Out of Time, Maya Angelou
Love transpires over time.
It can happen suddenly and with ease, or perhaps through pain and strife. Either way, you can not have love without time. Time can mean minutes or even seconds, hours or days. Love may take years, or solely the locking of one’s eyes. Love may come at the very last minute of life, or perhaps, it is written in the stars.
In this case, love is instant, but above all, it is continuous throughout the centuries.
This love, is utterly and perfectly timeless.
Prince Yoongi Min is the sole heir to the throne.
The Prince has cat-like eyes that swim with grim intent, the expression he wears, is always a mask, blank and unable to be read by anyone in the kingdom. The Prince is intelligent and wise beyond his years, dainty and demure. But sad.
The Prince is sad.
The ribbon of a waistcoat is the only thing that holds the prince together. Yoongi’s hanbok pulls at his lungs, sucking him dry of comfort and most importantly, his life. Prince Min Yoongi’s beauty knows no bounds. He is a soft and pristine young man who seldom speaks. He is small in stature, but his very presence brings about fear to those that pass him. Min Yoongi is a prince with no regards for the Court lifestyle.
Yoongi has a lovely round face, his cheeks plump and pale like snow, his skin typically flushed with the prettiest pools of red. His curly, raven black hair swoops delicately atop his head, his nose and his chin and his cheeks painted prettily with the most gorgeous of face paints. Face paints made for a prince like himself, one of the highest status and prestige. His lips are pillowy and a delicate shade of pink, always pouted and twisted into the most subtle of frowns. Yoongi’s eyes are glorious, similar to that of a feline’s. His orbs are incredibly intense and onyx colored, glimmering with darkness and secrets.
Yoongi did not choose the Court Lifestyle, but the Court Lifestyle chose him.
Every month or so, the Palace welcomes in a band of suitors that are inclined to win the Prince’s hand, and every month or so, nothing changes.
The Prince stands at the foot of the throne, staring them all down, for merely a few seconds or more, before turning them all away, never finding the one that he is looking for. Everyone in the palace has nothing to say, but the air of confusion that filters through the halls is more than potent. No one knows why the Prince doesn’t just pick the prettiest face and get on with the wedding. Perhaps the Prince is picky and specific, or perhaps, he simply does not want to be married, but no one has the right nor the power to question it, not even the Royal Guard.
The Royal Guard consists of many strong willed, powerful men. Men that have trained since childhood to protect the King. The Prince pays them no mind. Instead, he does as he is told, obeying the King wordlessly without batting a pretty eyelash.
Today, is one of those days.
A line of monarchs files in through the palace doors, dressed in the finest of robes and jewels, their eyes, focused solely on no one but the Prince, and the Prince alone.
Yoongi’s hands are folded within the widened fabric of his sleeves, his face painted prettily as he walks in a straight line, two guards at his sides, one of which, is a young man named Kim Taehyung.
Kim Taehyung is a tall, lean man, with a slim and chiseled face, his eyes the color of oak and gold. Taehyung’s hair is long and thick, capable of flowing past the broadness of his shoulders, if not for the gold ribbon that ties back his luscious locks. Taehyung’s nose is thin, the features of his face sharp, as is the look in his almond shaped eyes. Chiseled features and a jawline of stone, Kim Taehyung is a princely man in a peasant’s body. He is here based on skill, and skill alone.
Taehyung is Yoongi’s personal guard.
Ivory colors Yoongi’s skin, scarlet powder perched against the apples of his round cheeks, a look that the bondservants give him when he is about to potentially meet his future husband. His lips are painted red, and his eyes are lined with black ink. The Prince’s raven colored curls are coiled in such a way, that creates the perfect silhouette beneath his small golden hair piece, a sapphire clip with sparkling gems that fall along his forehead. The jewels in his hair match the earrings that he wears, as well as the ones around his neck and the base color of his hanok. The cold blue of the gems is a fair contrast with the angry red of his spirit. Yoongi’s hanok is colorful and firm against his body, the ribbon of his garb wrapping around the lower half of his torso and sewn with intricate strokes of floral patterns and pearls. It closes in on his waist before flaring out into the shape of a gown, the hem of the skirt stitched with water lilies of a variety of colors and hues. Each petal is unique in design, sparkling with cornflower and gold, silver and the prettiest of pinks, the Prince looking more like a marionette doll than an actual human.
The heels of Yoongi’s wooden shoes click against the carpeted hallway as he walks, and then, it stops. The jolt in Yoongi’s body is abrupt and sharp. The guards at his sides, Taehyung and Namjoon, stop alongside him.
The Prince clears his throat. “Namjoon-ssi, I feel a bit parched, would you please fetch me a glass of water?”
The guard nods quickly before scampering off, in retrieval of the drink.
The Prince turns to face the last guard standing.
Kim Taehyung.
“Taehyung-ssi.” Yoongi greets. The Guard swallows.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
The Prince bites at his lip, once again, dainty and demure.
“My feet ache. I would like to sit down. Take me to rest.”
The Guard nods.
“As you wish, Prince Min.”
Taehyung leads them around a corner of the longest hall, slow, but steady, their steps brisk and purposeful. The hall is empty, every guest and bondservant waiting for the Prince’s arrival to the main hall, where he is to meet the potential mate of his life.
The two walk for quite some time before suddenly, the Prince’s hand is stolen away by Taehyung himself, pulled backwards as he falls into the Guard’s chest plate of armor.
Taehyung cups Yoongi’s cheeks.
The Prince splutters.
“T-Taehyung-ssi, w-what are you―”
“Your excellency, would you be mad if I kissed you?”
The Prince snarls.
“I’ll kill you if you dare.”
The Prince’s face is pinched, his eyes narrowed angrily before, without warning, he snatches the Guard’s lips into his own, kissing him deeply and without modesty. Taehyung’s back slams into the nearest wall, their lips folding as their tongues glide. Taehyung turns their bodies so that Yoongi is now against the wall, his head tipping back against the frame of a portrait. Yoongi gasps into Taehyung’s mouth, their tongues rolling as the guard weaves their fingers together.
Their lips click quietly as they pull apart to breathe.
Yoongi hits Taehyung in the chest.
“Taehyung-ah, what were you thinking?!” Yoongi chides, looking every which way down the hall in case someone comes. The Guard begins to chuckle adorably, his smile widening into that of a pretty rectangle. Taehyung leans downward, their noses grazing as he speaks into Yoongi’s swollen lips.
“I have missed you, my dearest hyung.”
The Prince’s cheeks pool with rose, his eyes low as his heart begins to race beneath the fabric of his hanok.
“Someone could have seen us. You must not be so rash.” He scolds his hands curling into delicate fists against the guard’s shoulders. He won’t stop looking up and down the halls, and Taehyung has had enough. He cups the prince’s cheek before kissing him again, only this time, the kiss is gentle and slow, the two exploring each other’s mouths, lazily and with pure leisure. Yoongi bites the flesh of Taehyung’s bottom lip, his back still flush against the wall as the kiss is deepened, fierce and intense, full of passion.
Full of love.
Taehyung breaks the kiss, only so that he can kiss his prince’s nose and his lips. Both of his cheeks and lastly, his lips. The prince giggles adorably, lightly slapping his hands to the guard’s cheeks. Their eyes lock, the connection between them stiffening into something familiar, but painful. Something serious and just as formidable as all the times before.
They must think about the future.
"If I remember correctly, you kissed me."
Yoongi clicks his tongue with a roll of his eyes.
"You tempted me."
“How long can we keep this up, my dear Prince. The king will only get angrier and angrier as the days go on. You have to get married one day, to a prince that can take care of you, the way that you deserve to be taken care of. What will we do then?”
“What do I need a prince for if I am already a prince?” Yoongi questions, his voice raising with annoyance as a frown scorches his beautiful face. “No one is more fit to take care of me than you. You protect me with your life, you love me, just as I love you. There is no better choice for me than you, and if I am to be married off to some… snobby prince who cares of nothing more than his appearance, then we will run. We will run away together, and then, you can wait on me hand and foot. Every day, and every night.” Yoongi’s last words are playful, his voice trickling into a melodious and teasing tone. Taehyung is absolutely endeared, and more than willing to oblige.
Always.
With one final kiss, the prince is swept away by his royal guard, as they lovingly sneak kisses and touches throughout the night. They are as careful as they can be, but unfortunately, the palace walls are thin, so thin in fact, that they have no choice but to run, the King’s army quick on their heels. Things happen too suddenly, too fast for either of them to react in a timely manner. One moment, Yoongi is cowering, his hands held out high to protect himself. The next, a scream of torment.
Taehyung’s blood was warm beneath the surface of Yoongi’s palm.
Nausea coils in his stomach, the scent of copper heavy and thick in his nostrils. Yoongi has never raised his voice a day in his life, but now, in this moment, blood-curdling screams rip themselves from his throat. The thunder that shakes the ground is no match for the pain he spills into the night air.
Love can be instant. Love can be timeless.
Love, can be dangerous.
Yoongi’s eyes don’t do well with all of this damn smoke.
The club is hazy, the foul smell of cigars and liquor too pungent and thick to breathe in, let alone move through. Sleazy men sit in their stools, women in their laps, and illegal firearms snug against their hips.
“Jin-hyung,” Yoongi addresses his partner, Seokjin, a tall and unrealistically gorgeous man, a man far too pretty to be in this line of business. It adds to his charm.
“Hm?” Seokjin hums.
Yoongi nods his head in the direction of the bar. “Talk to the bartender, ask him some questions. I’m gonna head backstage.”
Seokjin nods an affirmative before doing as he is told. Yoongi slithers past every dancer and every patron, the bodyguard’s lip snarling crookedly as he doesn’t move an inch.
Yoongi flashes his badge.
“Either you move the hell out of my way, or I shut this place down. Immediately.”
The bodyguard squints, his nostrils flaring as he slowly but surely, steps out of the way.
The year is 1892, and this job never gets any easier.
Yoongi steps into the dressing room, gaudy perfume and whiskey filling his every pore. The detective clears his throat, damn near coughing up a lung as his eyes scan the room, suddenly meeting the very person he’s been looking for.
Kim Taehyung sits tall and pretty in his seat, his magnificent beauty radiating beyond the smoke and haze, like a beam of light from the heavens above. His face is caked in makeup, purple lips and red cheeks, makeup that he doesn’t need because he is already so beautiful. Mascara clings to his lashes, plump and glorious, framing the eyes that hold the power of a tiger’s. The singer is draped in a feathered boa and sequined clothing, as he styles his hair with manicured hands.
“Ah, hyung, it’s about time you came to see me again. It’s been a while.”
Yoongi swallows his resolve.
“Yes, I suppose it has.”
Taehyung swivels around in his chair to face the other man, his darkened brows furrowed, accentuating the petty gleam in his eyes. By the downward curl of his lips, Yoongi can tell that Taehyung is not happy to see him.
He deserves nothing less.
“What brings you by to see me hyung? Are you here for the show?” Taehyung asks, smug as he stares down at his nails.
Yoongi clears his throat, his steps cautious as he approaches the other man.
“As much as I love to hear your voice, that is not the reason why I am here.”
Yoongi flicks a photograph to the dressing room table. The image is blurred, black and white and taken with haste. It is of a young man, dark and handsome, surrounded by larger men who still don’t look nearly as intimidating as he is.
“Jeon Jungkook, where is he.”
Taehyung stares down at the photograph, a flicker of recognition showing in his eyes, before it is gone in a flash, hidden behind a forced look of blankness.
“I don’t know. I don’t know who that is.”
Yoongi huffs in frustration, his nostrils flared as he bends forward, forcing Taehyung to look him dead in the eye.
“Now is not the time to play games with me Taehyung. We have proof that there is a clear connection between you and Jeon. Now where is he?”
Taehyung lifts his head, their eyes meeting at a tauntingly slow pace. His eyes are hooded, his brows furrowed deep with a wrinkle in between.
“I. Don’t. Know. I don’t know who this man is.” He repeats, his voice even and stern. Forced, veiled with a tightness that Yoongi has never seen from the other man.
Yoongi knows he is lying.
The detective nearly growls, his blood boiling as his frustration grows towards the other man. He knows that Taehyung is toying with him, but he also knows that the younger man is afraid. He is afraid of what could happen to him, if he were to come forward with what he knows.
Yoongi would never let anyone hurt Taehyung.
“He used to come to this club, didn’t he. He used to come to see you. Was he your client? Did you do private sessions with him?”
Taehyung’s jaw visibly clenches, his eyes boring holes into the mirror before him. Yoongi follows his sight, completely mesmerized by what he sees in the reflection.
Kim Taehyung is so effortlessly ethereal, even when he is stained with garish and lurid makeup.
“You should leave.”
“Did he court you?”
The chair screeches as Taehyung stands abruptly, swiftly turning so that he and Yoongi are standing face to face, chest to chest. Taehyung smells of shaving cream and a hint of something floral. A perfume. Intoxicating, and yet, oh so deadly.
“You need, to leave.”
That is all the confirmation that Yoongi needs, however, it hurts. It hurts, to know that Taehyung has lied down with another, whether he was willing to, or not.
It hurts.
“Taehyung-ah, look at me.” Yoongi says as he throws caution to the wind, cupping his hands against Taehyung’s cheeks. “Tae-ah, look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Tears prickle the corners of Taehyung’s eyes, his bottom lip quivering as he snatches himself far away from the detective, causing a great distance between their bodies. He turns his back, his shoulders trembling as he begins to cry softly.
Yoongi’s heart begins to break.
“Taehyung-ah, did he hurt you? Has he threatened you? Tae-ah I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth.”
“And are you going to protect me too hyung?! If his people come for me, will you be there to save me?!” Taehyung screams, tears spilling down his cheeks, his voice already hoarse, as if he had been screaming for hours on end. The singer turns back around, his chest heaving as he angrily turns on the detective.
“You left me, hyung, you left me when I needed you most and you never even said that you were sorry.”
Yoongi feels sick to his stomach, his chest aching as he watches Taehyung shiver in the center of the room, his hands twitching as he reaches to pull at his clothes and hands. The detective is at his wits end. Of course, he could promise to protect Taehyung with this life, but Jeon is dangerous, and he is powerful. One of the most powerful mobsters in all of Seoul.
Anything could happen.
But Yoongi can’t take this anymore. He can’t just stand there and watch, as Taehyung cries, in fear of his life if he were to tell Yoongi what he needs to know.
The detective crosses the room in great strides, inhaling deeply as he wraps his arms around Taehyung’s broad shoulders, holding him close and squeezing him tight. Yoongi’s breath shudders as he presses his cheek against Taehyung’s warm skin, deeply inhaling the other’s lulling scent, his eyes fluttering shut as he sinks against him.
“Taehyung-ah… Tae… I’m sorry… I’m sorry that I left you that night, and… and I am sorry Tae-ah, that I didn’t come back for you, but I was scared too. I didn’t want to put you in any more danger, but I should have stayed. I should have stayed because, because…
“Because I love you.”
Taehyung’s body stiffens against Yoongi’s, pulling back far enough so that he can stare at the detective before him with foggy eyes. Tears cling to his lashes, welling in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks as he places his palm against the side of Yoongi’s face. The singer’s breaths slowly even out, his orbs glistening with disbelief as he blinks rapidly. His lips slowly part, unable to form the right words in response to Yoongi’s admission.
“Hyung, don’t, don’t lie to me. Just like when you said you would come back, and you didn’t, don’t make a promise to me that you can’t keep.”
“I’m not just promising you. I’m asking you. I’m asking you to trust me and love me in return, please Tae-ah. Tell me the truth.”
Taehyung’s lip quivers, his head shaking as he whimpers, his other hand coming to cup the other side of Yoongi’s face.
“Promise not to let me fall hyung, promise, not to let me fall.”
Taehyung leans downward, his head tilting slightly as their noses brush, their lips grazing, a single breath apart.
They share a sweet, simple kiss.
“I promise Taehyung. I promise.”
Taehyung’s body feels like that of a butterfly’s wings, his limbs floating along the air as he twirls beneath the stars. The sky is a magnificent mix between a purple and bluish hue, tinged with auburn as the sun sets and the moon comes to life. Flowers adorn the crown of his head, woven throughout the braids in his hair. His vibrant colored clothes are soft against his skin, akin to lilacs and daisies, contrasting with his tan complexion. His closest friends, Jimin, Hoseok, and Namjoon, dance and exclaim alongside him, music just as enchanting as the nighttime sky, stars twinkling and glistening as they dance and sing. The music speaks of their revolution, times in which death was not a fear, but the fear of living, was more than relevant and terrifying. Liberation tastes sweet, like the perfect amount of honey in Taehyung’s cup of ginseng tea.
The 70's is the time to be alive.
Hoseok and Jimin cheer him on, while Namjoon watches from afar, writing in his book of poetry and mumbling the words, his eyes specifically attached to that of Jimin and Hoseok’s bodies, the two lovers entwined as they dance. Taehyung giggles softly, his body moving without regret, that is, until the sounds of engines pierce the air.
Motors run, loud and disruptive, causing a few outbursts of shock. Taehyung spins on his heels with wide eyes, his stomach tangling and his heart fluttering as he locks eyes with the one he can’t seem to stop thinking about. The same man that has plagued his dreams, as well as his nightmares.
Min Yoongi, the very epitome of everything that Taehyung has strived not to be. Taehyung is all colorful beads and acoustic songs. Yoongi is black leather and chains. Metal and violence. The biker has pale skin, skin that can only be seen in glimpses from the amount of tattoos that mark his body. His hair is an oily black, swooped and gelled up, a single curl falling along his forehead. He dons a leather jacket, dark jeans with rips, and thick combat boots, splattered with paint and mud.
Yoongi smirks at him, a devilish and yet, absolutely beautiful sight to witness across a field of flowers.
Jimin and Hoseok join him on both sides, frowning across the field at the bikers that have disrupted their peace.
“Tae-ah, you don’t have to go over there.” Jimin says, his voice tight and fueled with ire. Hoseok nods in agreement, his hand squeezing Jimin’s as he looks over at the bikers on the far side of the field.
Taehyung sighs.
“It will only be for a moment. I’ll just tell them to leave.”
“Then let us go with you.” Jimin insists. “I see Jungkook and Seokjin with him as well, you shouldn’t go over there alone. It’s not safe.”
“He won’t hurt me, I mean, they. They won’t hurt me.” Taehyung stumbles upon his words, his heart in his throat as he begins crossing the field of flowers.
Him and Yoongi met at a festival once, live music and songs of better days. A better future.
The attraction was instant.
Yoongi was glowing beneath a beaming sun, awkward dance moves and all, kissing Taehyung with the faint taste of whiskey upon his lips. Taehyung wasn’t much of a drinker, but the aphrodisiac of Yoongi’s body against his own, his lips and his pretty, soft hands, was all the drug that Taehyung needed.
“Hey, flower boy.” Yoongi says with a pick in his mouth, pulling it out before flashing a gummy smile towards the other man across from him.
Taehyung frowns, his heart flipping in his demise as he tongues the inside of his cheek.
“What are you doing here hyung? You must know that we don’t want you here. All you do is cause trouble.” Taehyung says, his voice trembling as he tries to be angry. It is hard, when Yoongi is smiling at him like this, so seductive and perfect. Beautiful.
Min Yoongi is so beautiful.
“Is that so?” Yoongi dares, flicking the toothpick to the ground as he kicks back the stand on his bike with his heel.
“Since you don't want me here, let’s go for a ride then.”
Taehyung’s breath hitches.
“Hyung, I, I can’t, okay? Please just, just go.” Taehyung’s voice gets meeker and meeker, his heart breaking with every lie that comes from his mouth. He doesn’t want Yoongi to go, that is the last thing that he wants right now, but the timing just isn’t right. This time, isn’t right for the either of them.
But Yoongi is relentless, leaning back on his bike as he reaches behind him for his helmet. He holds it out for Taehyung to take.
“C’mon flower boy, one ride, then I’ll bring you back.”
Taehyung squints at the man before him, frowning as he looks down at the helmet in his hands.
“Hyung—”
“One ride.”
Taehyung swallows thickly, biting at the corner of his lip as he slowly reaches for the helmet in the other man’s grasp. Yoongi knows he has won, flashing the younger man a winning smile as he squeezes at the handlebars to his bike, the engine roaring to life as Taehyung rounds the bike. He puts on the helmet before sitting on the leather seat, wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s waist.
They ride off into night, the sky dark and glistening as Yoongi takes him to an unknown place. Part of him questions how he could be so stupid, to have fallen in love so suddenly and without purpose, only to end up in the arms of a man who is dangerous, a biker. A man who cares for no one but himself.
But that’s impossible, because Yoongi would never hurt Taehyung.
Yoongi pulls up to a large warehouse, one with dusty windows and padlocked doors. The biker kills the engine, Taehyung removing the helmet as his eyes wander along their new setting. He knows that he should feel afraid in this moment, but there is no ounce of dread nor terror within him. He trusts Yoongi, a lot more than he should.
“What is this place?” Taehyung asks, instinctually grabbing Yoongi’s hand as the other helps him to step off of the bike.
“You’ll see in a minute.” Yoongi replies, his voice a lot softer than before, tinged with something akin to joy or excitement. Taehyung is endeared by the sight, his lips breaking into a warm smile as Yoongi never releases his hand.
Yoongi unlocks the door, guiding Taehyung down a hallway before finally letting go. Taehyung clenches his fist, shivering suddenly from the loss of contact.
Cold.
The door swings open to reveal a studio, steady easels and leftover dried paints scattered along the floorboards. It is an art studio, the walls lined with portraits and most of all, photographs. Black and white photographs stringed along the walls with wooden clips and bulb lights.
Taehyung walks forward in a daze, his jaw dropped and his eyes gleaming as he takes in every detail of the studio. Paintings of various scenery, fields of greenery, the Seoul skyline, and further down the center of the room, a singular painting at the end of the space.
It is a painting of a man from the chest up, his body turning on an angle as if someone has just called out his name. A crown of yellow sunflowers adorns his head, his cheeks freckled with stars and constellations. Beneath the crown of flowers is a head of long brown hair, thick and curling along his shoulders, highlighted with flecks and strings of gold and sunlight. The man is beaming, his lips in the shape of a rectangle as his eyes form into small crescents, crescents shaped by the force of his round and tan cheeks, flushed and pink.
The man in the painting, is Taehyung.
Taehyung inhales shakily, his bottom lip quivering as he approaches the painting, tears prickling the corners of his chocolate colored eyes.
“H-Hyung, you, did you paint this?” Taehyung asks as he turns on the biker sharply, the older man scratching his nape with a tattooed hand. This is the first time that Taehyung has ever seen him like this, sheepish and embarrassed, his head ducked and his lips pouted.
“Y-Yeah, I did.”
Taehyung’s breath hitches, his hands fidgeting at his sides as he comes closer to Yoongi, overwhelmed by this onslaught of emotions. Shock and surprise, love.
“Why.” Taehyung says on a trembling breath.
Yoongi looks up.
“I… Taehyung, you’re my muse. Since the day we met I couldn’t get you off of my mind. You are the most beautiful man that I have ever met Tae. I find myself thinking about you and your safety more than my own, hoping that you’re okay and… happy. And I know that the two of us are so fucking different from one another, and that our friends don’t care for each other, but… I care about you, so fucking much that when I’m away from you, I can’t seem to function. So… I painted this, I painted you, because I… Tae-ah.”
“I love you.”
Taehyung’s knees feel as if they might give out, his body rushing forward as he throws his arms around Yoongi’s neck, smashing their mouths together in a messy fight of lips and teeth. Taehyung whimpers into the kiss, Yoongi kissing him back slowly, but surely. Taehyung pulls back, resting their foreheads together as the two of them breathe heavily.
“I love you too, hyung.”
Taehyung’s boss is…
Taehyung’s boss is fucking awful.
The assistant pretends as if he doesn’t hear Min Yoongi, infamous rapper and one of the most successful music producers of all time, cussing out whatever unlucky person is on the other end of that phone call. Yoongi, or as most know him as, Agust D , is a music icon of South Korea. His shelves are lined with awards and plaques, signifying the enormous amount of success that he has built from the ground up. This is honestly a dream for Taehyung, to be working alongside his favorite idol, the man who was born in the same town as he. A rap legend.
“Taehyung-ah!”
But sometimes… Min Yoongi can be a fucking asshole.
“Yes sir?”
Taehyung peeks his head beyond the doorframe of his boss’s studio, the producer frowning angrily at his computer screen, his nose crinkling with rage and frustration.
Cute.
“Where is my damn coffee?” Yoongi bites, furiously tapping his fingers against the keys, manipulating the sound waves on the screen before him.
Fuck.
“Yes sir! Sorry sir!”
Taehyung dashes through the hallways, stealing Yoongi’s signature cup from the dishrack, (one with a cat holding up two middle fingers. It says “you’ve gotta be kitten me right meow .” Makes Taehyung giggle every time.)
Taehyung fixes up Yoongi’s coffee just the way he likes it, before safely power walking back to the man’s office with the steaming cup in his hands.
“Here you are, Yoongi-sajangnim.”
Yoongi eyes the coffee warily, as if it were a bubbling vat of poison, staring back at him. His eyes trail back up to meet Taehyung’s. The assistant’s blood runs cold.
“I’m starting to get a migraine. Cancel the rest of my appointments for the day, and any calls that I have, wire them to Namjoon. I’m going home and I need you to come with. I have bags for you to carry.”
Taehyung holds back the biggest of eye rolls.
“Yes sir. I’ll pack my things now.”
The drive back to Yoongi’s flat is the most awkward of rides that Taehyung has ever experienced. It involves Yoongi snarling at his phone angrily, probably typing up the nastiest of messages to whoever is causing him such grief. Taehyung coughs in an attempt to cover up an unnecessary chuckle at his boss’s expense.
Of course, Taehyung is left to carry the man’s heavy ass bags, all the way up to the top floor. Yoongi fumbles with his keys before unlocking the door to his apartment, the door held open as he silently welcomes Taehyung inside. The assistant enters before shutting the door, setting all of Yoongi’s bags to the side.
Taehyung doesn’t even get the chance to breathe.
Yoongi slams Taehyung against the door, the assistant’s breath hitching before suddenly, his boss’s lips smash against his own, their teeth nearly clashing as Yoongi licks into his mouth.
Taehyung sighs happily, his lips curving to a smile as he eagerly kisses back, his hands coming to slip beneath Yoongi’s hoodie, holding him by his waist as their tongues move.
Yoongi pulls back, his neck craning backwards as he releases a much needed groan.
“Fuck.” He moans. “You don’t know how much I’ve been wanting to do that. Do you know how hard it is not to kiss you when I’m working? Especially when you come into the office looking like this?”
Taehyung giggles, kissing Yoongi deeply, almost enough to bruise.
“You’re getting a little too comfortable huh? With this whole ‘horrible boss’ thing?” Taehyung teases lightly, his hands gliding downwards to meet Yoongi’s hips, nipping playfully at his ear before he cups the older man’s ass. Yoongi titters, his gums peeking out from behind his plump lips. His hands card at the back of Taehyung's hair softly as he speaks.
“I’m sorry Tae-ah, but this is a conflict of interest, don’t you think? I don’t want to risk anyone finding out. I want you to have this job. It’s the only way you’ll move up in the company.”
Taehyung gleams, kissing the crown of Yoongi’s head. Yoongi’s skin buzzes with heat, the swell of his round cheeks, as well as his button of a nose turning pink with delight.
“I know love, and I appreciate you for this opportunity, more than you know.” Taehyung’s hands come up to cup Yoongi’s cheeks, the two smiling like lovesick fools before they are swept into another kiss, the two giggling as their lips buzz, the kiss ticklish and sweet like honey. Yoongi tastes like coffee and spearmint, delicious and too much to take in all at once, and somehow, also not enough.
Yoongi leads Taehyung to the couch, the kiss never breaking as the older man’s pale hands, peel off Taehyung’s coat and jacket. His arms come to wrap around Taehyung’s neck, the two falling to the sofa, their lips moving fluidly and with purpose.
“Ooh, love, your shoulders.” Taehyung hisses as his hands graze Yoongi’s neck and arms.
Yoongi chuckles, abashed and quite embarrassed as he runs his hand along the nape of his neck.
“Yeah… Jin-hyung is really kicking my ass with all of these collabs, and now he’s forcing me to come up with a set list for this stupid Christmas party? The man is a menace.”
Taehyung snorts, haughty and playful as he starts to massage Yoongi’s tense shoulders, his fingers digging into the taut muscles, receiving an unsolicited moan in response.
“It must be hard when you’re the most sought after, talented producer in all of South Korea... and a grinch.” Taehyung murmurs playfully, pecking the side of Yoongi’s neck a few times.
Yoongi chuckles, his neck craning as he puckers his mouth for one more real kiss. Taehyung bends down to peck his lips.
“Ha ha Tae-ah, but in all seriousness, yes it is.” Yoongi murmurs with a small smile, his soreness alleviating amidst the pressure of Taehyung’s soft and supple hands. Yoongi emits an exhausted and overly exaggerated whine.
“If only you were here all the time, you know, like if you lived here… you could make me coffee and give me massages all the time.”
Taehyung sighs, clicking his tongue before kissing the crook of Yoongi’s neck again.
“You know we’ve already talked about this love. I’m just not ready yet. I can’t leave Jimin without a roommate. It wouldn’t be fair to him.”
Yoongi sighs, his hand coming up to sit upon Taehyung’s gently.
“I understand… still doesn’t mean I don’t miss you when you’re gone.”
Taehyung scoffs with a soft smile. “You see me at work!”
Yoongi huffs with a roll of his eyes. “Yes, but we’re not boyfriends at work.”
Taehyung places his palm against Yoongi’s chin, gently guiding him into a soft, sweet kiss that Yoongi hums into with a sleepy smile.
“Well,” Yoongi says in between kisses, whispering seductively against Taehyung’s lips, “I’ve had a long day. Why don’t we order in, drink some wine, and watch a couple of movies while you’re here?”
Taehyung gleams.
“Yes. Oh, also,”
Taehyung kisses Yoongi.
“I love you, so much hyung.”
Yoongi giggles, kissing him back.
"And I love you more."
"Till the end of time?" Taehyung asks, his eyes sparkling as he leans in for one last kiss.
Yoongi can't deny him, even if he wanted to.
"Till the end of time."