Taekook Oneshots

-82-

𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓇𝒶𝒹𝑒 🎭

Jungkook POV

Balls get such bad reputations. Whether in movies or books, balls of any kind or sort seem to absolutely bore the main character to extreme lengths. They stand in corners, refusing to dance or take part in any sort of social activity, until some enticing stranger comes along and sweeps them off their feet.

On the other hand, I adored balls. Getting all dolled up, flirting with suitors even if Mother doesn't approve. I can't help being the prettiest attendee. 

Today's masquerade ball is no exception. Especially seeing the guest list of gorgeous, high class people. More people for me to toy with. 

And no, I am not a slut, or a whore, or whatever you'd call it. I prefer playful. I don't sell sex, or my body. I simply use my outer appearance to the fullest, and for my own gain and amusement.

So that no one can ever use me.

"Are you ready, sugar?" Jimin calls out sweetly, bursting into my room, fully dressed in probably one of the nicest white suits I've ever seen him in. His face morphs into surprise when he realises I'm not even halfway ready yet. "Oh honey, what are you doing?! The party's in half an hour!"

I fall back into my dressing table chair exasperatedly.

"I don't know what to wear!" I groan, pointing tiredly at the massive stack of suits I had pulled out and gone through from storage. "I've literally worn everything."

Jimin clicks his tongue, a spark in his eyes as he rushes to my closet. I loll my head to one side, frowning impatiently as I watch him rummage through the drawers that I've already been through.

"I told you, I've worn everything-" I'm cut off abruptly when he pulls out a little black number, laced with satin that practically hides nothing underneath, threaded through with ribbons like a corset. A amused laugh escapes my lips.

"You don't expect me to wear that?" I exclaim is disbelief. "I don't think the duke and duchess would find it... appropriate." 

Jimin rolls his eyes, shoving the hanger into my hands.

"Oh please, when did you ever care about upsetting the snobs?" He snorts. "Trust me, wear this and the spotlight will be on you."

And just like that, my ego is persuaded. I'm such a sucker for attention, I sigh. Again, I suppose Jimin does have a point. His fashion sense is never wrong, and I do look good in pretty much anything. See it as you will, narcism or conceited, but it's the truth.

I am beautiful, and everybody wants this face.

Let me emphasise, this face.

-

Of course, the moment Jimin and I strut into the hall, jaws drops and whispers echo from person to person. Usually I'd be ecstatic, yet tonight feels wrong. Even under a mask, my identity feels stolen. Known. I am not a secret. 

As stares pierce into the shards of skin peaking out from outfit, I hug my arms around my chest, cautiously sipping a flute of champagne. 

I am uncomfortable.

As I try to remain my composure, my eyes scan the room for a familiar face. Jimin is no where to be seen. A wave of nerves come crashing down on me like a tsunami, and my glass trembles in my hand. 

"Sorry, coming through," I mumble, clumsily crashing through the crowd of dancing noblemen. "Terribly sorry, please let me pass."

Just as I see the glimpse of an exit, the curl of a tight arm around my waist stops me in my tracks, and my stomach sours as I recognise the voice that smirks above me. He runs a hand through his silver hair, and winks.

"Why the rush, darling?" Jihoon drawls. "Aren't you excited to see me?"

I grit my teeth, and push his arm away.

"Jihoon, enough, let me go," I plead, dropping my calm facade. "I thought you said this was over."

He grips me by the jaw, so tightly I can feel myself going limp. That ghostly smile, god, how demonic. I hold his gaze, unwilling to lose to him, not again. But as his stare deepens, I feel myself twist and coil tighter, until I'm on the brink of collapsing.

"It's never really over, is it darling?" Jihoon chuckles softly. "You can run all you want, Jungkook, but you'll always be running back to me."

My eyes narrow, and I bite him fiercely in the back of his hand. He lets out a yelp, but it's quickly replaced with an expression of annoyance. His grip moves down to my wrist, and it stays there and tightens, until I feel the blood cutting off.

"You're going to regret doing that."

I shut my eyes, throat dryer than sand, wishing on every star that it would just all go away.

"Let the boy go, Jihoon."

My eyes flash open. A tall stranger, strong brown eyes, and thick platinum white hair. Most of his face is hidden by a pearled mask, but from his voice I know we haven't met. He must be someone important though, and that's all that matters, as Jihoon lets go of my arm and storms off, cursing under his breath.

I exhale at last, as my head unclouds.  I examine the deep purple bruises littering my forearms like tattoos, and unwanted memories come back to mind. Broken glass, struggling, a copious amount of struggling, the doctored wine glass, and the pain.

I should not have come tonight.

"Are you alright?" The stranger asks, scouring my body from top to bottom for injuries. 

"I- I'm fine," I reply hesitantly. "Thank you. I really should be going now."

The man smiles, a ray of light reflecting from the chandeliers and bouncing off his eyes, causing them to sparkle radiantly. He offers up his hand, and stares at me intently.

"So soon?" He says sadly. "Wouldn't you at least spare a dance for me? As a token of gratitude?"

I can't help giggling at his antics, so out of respect I give in. One dance, and I'll be home by midnight, just like the fairytales. Without a prince, but safe.

The orchestra stirs to life, and the familiar melody of romantic pieces op.75 begins to fill the hall. There's a tiny sense of discomfort and awkwardness when he curls his arm around my waist, and when our hands lace together i can't help but worry about my sweaty palms. Thankfully, he seems to take no notice of my nerves, only still smiling warmly at me.

It's hard to avoid his gaze, when we're face to face. Especially when his eyes are the most captivating, the most gorgeously doe-like. I have to will myself to stop blushing, but I'm afraid it's much too late.

"Are you blushing?" He chuckles with surprise. "How adorable."

In an instant, I'm as red as a ripe strawberry on a hot summer's day. 

"What did Jihoon want with you anyway?" He asks casually. "He's always making a fool out of himself, I can only guess he's been dragging you into something like that."

I open my mouth to speak, but find my voice a trembling mess. 

"I... he-" I stutter, face getting hotter by the second. "At another party, he-"

He pushes a finger up to my lips to shush me. His eyes have darkened. I can only assume he knows.

"Stop," He commands. "Don't go on, I understand."

I nod shakily. 

"Thank you..." I breath. "What name do you go by?"

The man shakes his head, a small smile at the edge of his lips. 

"It would be better for you to never know, Jungkook."

As he lets go of my waist and turns to walk away, my eyes go wide in shock.

"Wait, how do you know my n-"

He blows me a kiss.

"Beautiful as ever. I'll see you around."

And as he runs away, something shiny flutters to the ground, like a frost covered leaf.

His mask.