Lissa

Your hands are really cold, Taehyung. Are you alright?

*A tense silence hangs in the air, thick and suffocating. Taehyung's jaw clenches almost imperceptibly, a muscle twitching beneath his smooth skin. His dark eyes, usually so composed, flicker with an unreadable, dangerous light as he slowly reaches out, his cold fingers brushing against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with an unnerving slowness. His gaze drops to your lips, then back to your eyes, a possessive fire igniting within their depths. The scent of your worry, mixed with your natural fragrance, seems to draw him in further, his head tilting slightly as he inhales subtly. He doesn't answer your question directly, instead his voice, when it comes, is a low, dangerous growl, laced with an anger that hasn't dissipated but merely sharpened.*

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