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sue-bts · 4 years

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The Field Beside The Forest- Chp 1

When Taehyung's strawberry field becomes littered with holes he presumes it be a slug's work. But when he sets a trap of orange peels he accidentally plucks a someone from his strawberry patch rather than a grimy slug. This someone happens to be a little fairy named Jungkook with damaged wings and a pink-haired, sassy friend named Jimin.

This accidental meeting incites chase sequences atop a rat's furry back, a shrinking potion and meeting a tiny, grumpy wizard who lives under a tree root. As these new characters help Taehyung along his journey to find Jimin and Jungkook could it be that Taehyung's strawberry farm will end up saving them all? And as their small daggers cut through tall grass, could this accidental meeting lead Taehyung to finally find love?

Pairing: Taehyung and Jimin

Genre: Adventure / Slow Burn

Words: 13k

/ AO3 LINK /

The strawberry field is a large expanse, and as his ankles peek out from his bright yellow pants, they contrast to the green distance. Strawberry plants don’t reach very high to cover or conceal much of anything, so his figure is large, protruding from the ground much taller than the rest as if he too were a strawberry, which has sprouted from the ground with yellow pants and a straw hat nimbly atop his head.

The wind is harsh this morning, it makes the entire field flutter. His eyes squint against it, his hat doesn’t block much wind from drying them out. He holds his mouth pursed, not a grin nor a frown across it, rather a strained expression.

“Not a good day for watering,” he mumbles to himself, the wind drowns out the words. He likes how he can speak into the air, and only he knows that he spoke, the little nothings drift away with the wind, far from his mouth that had said them. His legs sway with the force of the wind, pausing for a few moments before heading back into his little cottage.

When inside, the wind no longer chapping his lips or drying out his eyes, he peers out his window. He loves this window when the weather becomes hard to bare, he can still watch over his strawberries with the barrier of his cottage’s protective wood planks. His strawberry field continues in its movement, the strawberries don’t rise from where they lay across the dirt but a lot of the leaves flap. “Though, it is a good day for a little strawberry dance,” he says to himself. His voice hardly escapes his lips before sucking back in with an inhale.

This window gazes out upon the field so he can admire their bright pink as they begin to ripen, some have already become red and he plans on harvesting them later today if the winds calm down, but he’ll wait until tomorrow morning if he must. They’ve grown well, all in a uniform shape, which he prides himself on. They're Ozark Beauties, usually ripening this early in the year, but in previous years the harvests haven’t been this rewarding. The sight, however red and beautiful it is, is as well threatening, ripening so well and so early in the season only brings about the idea of bugs getting to them before he can.

The leaves continue flapping in the wind and he begins to notice how so many of them are already littered with tiny holes. He furrows his brow, eyes taking a more concentrated focus. Too many holes, the bugs as well must be getting an early start this year. The leaves only beckon for his focus to then drift to the strawberries themselves, some have a sprinkle of holes, light as freckles across cheeks, but others are already picked apart with holes until they no longer resemble the original shape of a strawberry. This sight displeases him to the point a shiver runs through his frame, he isn’t a fan of his strawberries being littered with holes, this means he won’t be able to sell them. If he does manage to sell a few boxes once he picks out the good ones that remain, these boxes will have bugs emerge from the bottom and customers will scowl, sure to never buy from him again. Even the ones that survive this raid will still have bugs clinging to them, just waiting to begin feasting.

His form coils with a growing temper, this window usually offers him solace and the warmth of sun across his face, but to see this, this deterioration of his hard work, he wants to turn his head away. The strawberries are such innocent little plants, he shakes his head of the thought.

Finally, he manages to pull his attention away, instead turning to his small kitchen, evaluating the array of clean dishes. He must have washed them last night… which leaves for him nothing to do to distract his mind from the horrible image of the bug-infested strawberries. Why did he set himself up like this? Last night he’d probably needed to calm himself down and do the dishes to relieve some sort of stress he had harbored. It hardly matters, though his memory loss troubles him. Often he can calm himself in the warm, soapy water to the extent that he’s lulled into a dreamlike state. So he presumes it of himself, as he does it often, his memory fading until only fragments are leftover in the morning.

He thinks to last night, he remembers how his back felt exponentially tenser after plucking weeds for many hours than the usual day of farming. Leaning over the sink to enjoy the steam that rose from the water, that’s surely what must have fogged his mind, clouding his vision. The rest of his memories dip into an unclear state of mind, he thinks of the soap bubbles turning into clouds that whisked him away, and the bubbles then popping, the clouds dissipating as hot steam does into the air, and his small figure drifting down through the sky at a slow pace and then plopped into the water. The sink’s entirety transformed, taking the shape of a hot tub, and his sore feet, which were littered with calluses, scrubbed clean against a porcelain plate.

The thoughts confuse him, simply trying to decipher which parts were fabricated and which were reality. He should go to bed earlier tonight so these daydreams don’t confuse him again tomorrow.

The window flickers with light, it forces him to turn his attention back to the large surface of glass. Wanting to peel his eyes away from the image of his poor strawberries, he shifts his focus to land on the clouds that move more rapidly than normal as they’re carried by the wind. They take turns covering the sun and then quickly moving past to reveal the light once again. His cottage fluctuates from well lit to dim, back and forth. This calms the part of his mind that’d been upset from seeing the little holes across his strawberries and then strained with trying to decipher between last night’s dream. The rhythm is reliable, his form slouching against the window sill to yet again turn his attention away. Closing his eyes to take deep inhales when the light covers his skin, and exhales when it becomes dark; the orange color of his eyelids becomes a dim blue when the light fades.

While his eyes are closed his mind can’t help but wander, maybe a mixture of liquids could be sprayed across the strawberries to get rid of the bugs? That is, before they get to every single one. Every. Last. One. The thoughts rile him, they are nihilistic and speak rapidly.

Maybe he could make some sort of vinegar and citrus combination? The spray would make the surfaces of the strawberries much too sour for the bugs to want to travel inside of them. The thought stresses him though, he only has a small allotment of time to make enough of the product and spray it over everything before the strawberries become ripe enough that the bugs begin their burrowing, so he gives himself a few more moments under the window’s sun and then begins to find his ingredients.

His pantry is limited, he makes biweekly trips to town, but sometimes, if there are enough sweet potatoes to pluck from the nearby gardens, he can wait up to a month before needing to go to the market. This month is of the latter, the late spring’s perfect weather as it shifts into summer guarantees a larger supply of crops, more frequent a supply for him to nibble on. The trip to town has been weighing at him for the last few days, he dreads the walkover, as he dreads wearing full-coverage shoes. He prefers slipping into sandals on most days, thus not having proper walking shoes for the trip. And on the walk back he must lug his groceries, this is unpleasant on winter’s icy ground, and unpleasant under summer’s hot sun. This mid-spring weather offers no excuses on why he hasn’t already started the journey.

While the weather may be alluring in how the sunbeams but doesn’t burn skin, he finally finds his excuse not to go as he turns to his pantry. He has more important business to attend to, concerning his beautiful strawberries; they always take importance over any lingering hunger that aches in his stomach. The ingredients he still has within his pantry will make do to both feed him properly the next few days, and as well provide a functioning solution to cover over his field. Glancing over the different sized bottles of cooking oils and the small containers of seasonings, they will most certainly perturb the bugs’ little censors, antennas— or whatever they taste with— so they will not dare burrow further into his strawberries.

Careful fingers trace over the worn labels, finally selecting three bottles and putting them on his little rock counter. The containers stand at an angle, the counter has always been slightly lopsided. He built this cottage for himself right smack in the center of his farm a while back, it must have been when he was fifteen or so. His fifteenth year was when he’d finally gathered enough money to buy the plot, along with a large number of seeds. He began tilling the ground in preparation for the coming strawberry season and all the while he couldn’t tame himself from grinning. Though the soil hadn’t been promising, he had eyed it on his walk home from middle school each day just knowing if he got his hands on it he could turn it into a beautiful little farm for himself. Finding the money to buy it wasn’t too hard and didn’t take too long, no one wanted to put the time into making something of a dry patch of dirt surrounded by a thick forest. The forest made it hard for even a small dirt road to be accessible, winding in a confusing manner to avoid having to drift into the woods. But after walking this same road to and from school each day he was used to braving the forest, not minding the quiet and secluded nature of it.

It would be perfect soil for my strawberry plants, he had thought, and he cleared himself a spot in the very center of it for where his future cottage would be built. That is why his countertop is so bumpy and small, it is made from a slab of boulder he’d found by the creek one day while amidst constructing the building. It was a perfect size and perfect durability, it does its job well too, being a surface to chop on, or in this case, gather bottles for his concoction.

“Just the right amount of vinegar…” he says, carefully pouring the clear liquid into his spray bottle. Next is the soap and water. He combines the three and shakes the bottle, watching as it foams. It will hopefully do, he must now just wait for the winds to calm before venturing back out to his strawberries, otherwise the solution would probably blow away before thoroughly coating any leaves.

Morning sun blends into the striking vibrance of midday, soon after it lulls to afternoon. Enough hours have passed that the strawberries stop their little dance, the wind calming, only sometimes brushing through the treetops of the forest nearby his field. He scurries from his cottage the first chance he gets, his feet hardly getting a chance to slip into his sandals before hopping into his field. This is why he must rely on his sandals, he’s always in some kind of hurry, shoes requiring tying knots or thoroughly putting his foot inside would eliminate this sense of hurry that he always holds. He likes the hurry, he likes how he scrambles to glide into the sandals before darting across the ground, delicately avoiding stepping on any cherished strawberries of his.

With spray bottle in hand, he as well carries a little basket filled with lemon, lime and orange peels. These will be sprinkled around each strawberry plant and he plans on each morning gathering up the little pests, such as slugs or beetles, that begin to eat the peels. These pests would be the ones to have soon started in on the strawberries, if not having already.

It’s scenic, in how he sprinkles the peels all around, it reminds him of a flower boy at a wedding, gliding down the alter with petals following after. And as he sprinkles, his other hand spritzes the sour liquid across the green leaves, it’s a delicate motion but he is thorough. He moves to each individual strawberry plant like it’s a dance routine he follows, his legs cross over each other as he carefully whizzes down each row.

Finishing spraying, he’s quite pleased with himself, standing still for a moment to admire his work, some droplets of the solution glistening in the late afternoon sun. What a view, of his little cottage basking in the orange of golden hour, and the last remnants of wind still scattering about loose leaves or the occasional bits of dust that catch the light. The bits of dust are usually unnoticeable, but a specific one seems larger and sparkles brighter in the light than the rest. He doesn’t pay the little piece of dust much attention though as he begins to head back inside. It’s been a tiring day of worrying for his poor little strawberries, and then soaking up his fair share of sun while spritzing. Now he can feel his limbs easily give in to the night’s rest. He willingly succumbs to his exhaustion, splaying himself across his small bed which still bares winter’s thick quilt. It remains useful to him, not overheating his form during these cold spring nights, rather offering comfort in its warmth as he sleeps alone. His sleep comes much easier than the night previous, which had left his mind dazed and his memories confusing. Tonight, he can quickly slip into sleep without a second thought nor any time spent staring up to his ceiling amidst the dark.

The morning as well comes easily, he must’ve fallen asleep when the first signs of sunset began to bloom last night, and he now wakes with the first beams of sunrise. His eyes don’t resist these first rays of sun, it only beckons him out of his long sleep that had spanned around ten to eleven hours. He quickly hurdles himself from bed, his loose pajama pants dragging across the floor as he pitter-patters to his window. His eyes scan over the field trying to see if any slugs had taken a liking to the early morning peel arrangements he’d laid out for them. He can see that a lot have actually gathered, a lot more than he’d anticipate would migrate to eat at the peels. It makes him almost skip with joy, his bare feet pitter-pattering across the wooden flooring once again, his movements always in a rush as he retrieves a warm coat to slip over his long sleeve. This is the same as most days, but it’s a good kind of hurry, he’s too antsy to put something more suitable on than pajamas as his excitement only builds. This leaves his form clad with a loose thermal and puffy jacket over top, with striped pajama bottoms that catch under his heels. He ventures out of his little rounded doorway but has to stop himself, going back inside and slipping into his favorite pair of sandals, he can’t get too ahead of himself.

The sight is like Christmas morning, he hurries about with his little basket wiggling from his wrist. He throws the devoured remnants of the peels with slugs still attached to them carelessly into it. If someone were to walk by they’d presume he’d found stashes of gold within the dirt, his exuberance uncanny while hopping along the rows. And if they were to ask him why he’s so excited it would be hard for him to find the proper words so as not to sound completely mad. How can one be so enthusiastic when it comes to harvesting a plentiful amount of morning slugs? He wouldn’t be able to answer.

With the speed, he goes about his harvesting he hardly notices the first sharp prick at his ankle. He had rolled up his loose sweatpants so that he could go about his harvesting more efficiently. Despite the little prick of pain, he continues on, his mind not even drifting to thoughts on what the little pain could have been from, he’s much too focused on how successful his lemon rind offering had been.

Then there’s another prick. And then another. This forces him to take a more careful notice, he stops in his tracks, looking down at his ankles, there’s no burr stuck in his skin, no scratch from a random weed. Gardening so often he is used to the prick here and there across his skin, but usually, some remnants of the cause present themselves, today, there is nothing.

“Hm,” he says to himself. He continues on, hating when he’s interrupted during a task. Already, his peppy nature returns, the peels flicking into his basket, the slugs malleable and hardly taking notice as they’re tossed about, only focused on latching on to their delicious rinds. There’s another prick.

“Aish!” he exclaims, his hand reaching down to swat around his ankles. “Isn’t it too cold out for mosquitos already?” Of course, there isn’t an answer. Unless there is, and maybe he just ignores the little buzz of noise… that must be it. Though his ear slightly perks to the noise, not having expected an answer as he always talks to himself never awaiting a response. He continues down the row, but at a slower pace this time, each step is more careful now, his eyes scanning the ground before taking his next step.

“I’m so stupid,” He laughs pleasantly to himself, unrolling his pajama bottoms so they once again cover over his ankles, even bunching against the top of his feet. He presumes that this will stop the little pricks of pain from continuing. Beginning a mindless hum from the back of his throat he continues, reaching the halfway point of his strawberry field. He’s almost skipping now, his hair flouncing about with the movement.

A prick. A sharp little pain. Under the toenail of his big toe. He curses himself, looking down and noticing how the only thing left exposed are his protruding toes from his sandals. Why can’t he be fine with wearing closed-toed shoes? Why can’t he feel okay with his feet being locked up in an unventilated, stifling chamber? Just thinking of these torturous close-toed shoes he answers his own questions. He accepts his antics of sandal-wearing, despite them offering a plentiful amount of exposed skin to whatever little animal is nipping at his flesh, he can’t go about life with his feet sweaty and restrained by a close-toed pair of shoes.

“Can I please finish collecting my slugs and then you can go about your business, little bug?” He asks into the air, yet again not prompting for a response, and almost ignoring the response that does come.

“no!”

He stops in his tracks, his basket swaying against his wrist with a sudden halt. There’s a long pause, of his eyes scanning the premises, not finding a single soul to stand in the distance, not by the little dirt road beside his field or hidden away behind his cottage. The early morning light reveals everything, not letting a single shadow hide someone from his sight.

“No?” He answers back. He feels foolish speaking to the little no one’s voice, he expects no answer to his question, and yet he pauses in all his movements, even his breathing quiets to try to pick up on if a voice responds.

“yeah, that’s what i said!” The little voice resumes. It’s somewhere below him, his eyes begin to scan across the strawberries, looking over each leaf, each curve or swell of soft soil, even across the lime peels and orange rinds that only harbor more gray slugs for him to collect once he continues with his task.

“look farther down!” the voice chirps, and then there’s another sting from his toe. His eyes shoot down to the exact toe that’s pricked and he almost stumbles with the sight. He hadn’t noticed the slight weight that had been perched on his big toe but now he’s very much aware, all of his senses alert as his eyes try to take in what’s before him.

It’s a little fairy, with pink wings fluttering so it can remain balanced as it sits lazily upon his toe. It’s hardly as tall as a pinky finger, a strawberry could easily squish it, but its face radiates an anger that he would only presume a larger animal could harbor. To go along with this emanating anger from the little being, it holds a very tiny dagger that’s tinted a slight red from the pricks it must have been causing the farmer.

“hi there,” the little thing says, but the words aren’t gentle from its high pitched voice. How can a voice so sweet, one that drips like honeysuckle, still spit out the word “hi” as if choking down cough syrup?

All the strawberry farmer can do is blink a few times, try to swallow despite how dry his throat is and answer back, “Hello,” but his voice comes out meeker than the fairy’s.

“my name is jimin and you just tossed my friend into your slug basket, i’m pretty sure he’s stuck in there!” Jimin, the little fairy, says. His voice is mad and speaks rapidly as he perches on the farmer’s toe. The little thing hardly leaves time to breath between his words.

“My name is Taehyung,” The farmer replies, choosing to go one step at a time and ignore the rest of what the fairy has just told him.

Jimin rolls his eyes, it’s a hardly noticeable gesture from a creature as small as he is, but the intent is there. “nice to meet you taehyung, now can you please give me back my friend?!”

The little fairy does not hesitate cutting straight to what matters, face scrunched in a pout and fists at his hips. The “please” that slips from his lips hardly sounds polite, but Taehyung can excuse the little one’s urgency. Taehyung’s eyes flick from the fairy on his toe to his basket of languidly moving slugs.

“pronto!” the little Jimin squeals, fluttering his wings so he quickly raises from sitting to standing upon the other’s toe. He stomps his foot dramatically onto Taehyung’s toenail, expecting the large human to react with pain but all he does is blink. Jimin begins pattering stomps all along the exposed skin of the other’s foot, hopping on the sandal’s surface as if it were a bridge and Taehyung’s skin was like dipping a toe into chilly water.

“Ok! I’ll find him!” Taehyung says in a hurry. It isn’t that the little fairy’s stomping on his foot causes him any pain, but rather it flusters him, he doesn’t want to get tickled and accidentally stumble onto the fairy. Taehyung doesn’t know yet how fast a fairies’ reflexes are, they can flutter away from any danger with the speed a hummingbird moves from blossom to blossom. So Taehyung, in his careful nature, does his best to abide by whatever the fairy commands of him.

“do it now or i use my dagger again!”

Taehyung is already scanning the basket, ignoring the other’s chirping demands. He nimbly goes about lifting random slugs which don’t break apart from their peels. At first there is no sign of a second fairy and he fears it might be thoroughly squished by the time he gets to it. The little Jimin shoots him a glare, fluttering slightly off his foot to try to catch a better view of the basket he picks through, but all he can see is the bottom of it before fluttering back down. Taehyung wants to speak up, to give Jimin the bad news as he continues in his efforts to no avail, but right as his mouth parts to speak his fingers roll over a particularly large slug with a fairy plastered to its side.

“Jimin!” Taehyung bursts, a smile spreading over his face. Even though he doesn’t know either of these fairies or why they’re mingling in his strawberry field, he feels a rush of relief in seeing Jimin’s friend is indeed still alive. Despite the fairy surviving the slug basket, he is covered in a gross slime and must be peeled from the side of the slug, almost looking flat from being squished for so long. Carefully, Taehyung lifts the little figure by his ankle, slightly shaking him out as slime drips from his form back into the basket.

“oh! is he okay?” Jimin exclaims, his arms reaching out for his friend. Taehyung is still shaking the fairy of most of the slime that collected to his clothes, and finally the fairy’s eyes slowly open. When his eyes finally gain focus and take in the face of a large human staring at him he instantly starts to flutter his wings, trying to fly away from Taehyung’s grasp. Not only does Taehyung’s hold on his ankle prohibit his escape, his wings are as well heavy with slug juice and are hardly able to separate from each other. His wing’s attempt at fluttering is much like someone’s attempt at opening their mouth after biting into a peanut butter and honey sandwich, nearly impossible.

“I think he’s fine, but his wings don’t work right now,” Taehyung mumbles, still evaluating the fairy that squirms between the hold of his pointer finger and thumb.

“jungkook! it’s ok, calm down, he won’t hurt you!” Jimin calls out and Taehyung is grateful that the little Jimin explains this. Taehyung had been worried he’d accidentally drop the fairy, Jungkook, back into the slug basket if he kept up his squirming much longer. It wasn’t that his grasp on the little figure was threatened from his wiggling, but Taehyung’s careful nature makes him feel easily sorry for maybe holding the little one’s ankle too tightly, or accidentally scaring him.

“Hi, I’m Taehyung,” Taehyung says to the fairy within his grasp, but his deep voice and his exhale of breath with the words nearly blows the fairy over. Jungkook reaches up and covers his ears, his face scrunched in discomfort.

“you humans don’t realize how loud you are!” Jimin calls out, his little voice still snappy even after Taehyung has rescued his friend. Perhaps that is just how he always talks, Taehyung considers.

“Maybe it’s just that your ears are small,” Taehyung mumbles to himself, but being that his voice carries easily to these sensitive ears he mentions, both Jimin and Jungkook hear him well.

“will you just give me back my friend and leave us be!” Jimin swells with his anger, his wings frantically fluttering, raising him higher than he’s gone through this entire conversation. Taehyung can see how he becomes out of breath as he rises in elevation to stare up at Taehyung from the height of Taehyung’s stomach. He does his best to remain fluttering here but Taehyung is mad at him, and doesn’t hand over Jungkook as Jimin’s eager arms wait. Jimin huffs and quickly flutters back until plopping onto a nearby strawberry leaf.

“Leave you alone? This is my strawberry field,” Taehyung says. It’s less in an angry manner but more offended, he prides himself on his field and if someone passes by, be it a human or in this case a little fairy, he wants to receive appreciation for his plentiful field.

“you aren’t some slug collecting wizard from the wayward village?” Jimin questions, quirking a brow as his hands return to resting at his hips. His entire body stands with a slant upon the leaf, exuding a snappy and intolerable sass. “i would only assume a wizard casting a spell would need so many slugs.”

Taehyung is taken aback by the presumption, “No, I live here, that’s my cottage over there, these are my strawberries.”

“whatever. can you give jungkook back to me? i think he’s finished dripping by now.”

Taehyung had hardly been paying attention to the little fairy that still hangs from his grasp. The fairy eyes him up when Taehyung’s gaze turns to look at him.

“you heard jimin,” jungkook says, this being the first words that he speaks he coughs with the effort, spitting out some slug slime.

Taehyung finally lowers his hand that holds onto Jungkook and stands him up on the leaf beside Jimin. Jimin quickly embraces Jungkook and ruffles his hair from its stiff position, plastered with dried slime. When they pull away from the hug a string of slime is stuck between their figures and they giggle to themselves about it. Jungkook’s form still slouches and seems weak from being squished, he does a few hops trying to see if his wings work but they don’t, though the jumping makes his figure puff back out to resemble a more human-like body rather than the flat Stanley style he’d previously sported. Jimin’s eyes scan the other’s condition, fingers reaching out and glazing over Jungkook’s arms and battered wings.

“taehyung…” Jimin begins, his voice finally dripping into a more hushed tone, rather than the demanding one.

As Taehyung hadn’t even thought to turn away yet, staying frozen where he stands, he can easily hear the little fairy’s voice. “Yes?” He responds.

“jungkook isn’t well… his wings need to dry out in a dry place or else they’ll become too weak and deteriorate.”

Taehyung remains quiet and still, only looking at the two figures where they stand on the leaf. His heart is racing, he’s never had to take care of anything besides his strawberries, he doesn’t know how to handle them carefully enough or how to clear out a space for them to sleep within his cottage. This might be the first time a fairy has ever asked a human for help, and that’s a lot of pressure. Books and tall tales could be created from this encounter if he accidentally hurts either one of them, fairies could become even rarer and harder to find within the woods.

He wets his lips, eyes trying to search the distance for any kind of answer, and Jimin’s little foot begins to tap impatiently on the leaf. The noise unsettles Taehyung and causes his heart rate to grow in speed until matching the pace of the little one’s foot. As he fears possibly hurting them and forever ruining human’s reputation amongst the fairies, Jimin seems to pay no mind to this long-lasting relationship between the two civilizations, rather, he’s only focused on the predicament in which he and Jungkook are currently in.

“taehyung!” Jimin shouts, his voice beckoning across the air, demanding to be loud and well heard. He’s successful in this, despite how sweet and high pitched and small his voice is from his mouth, he knows how to make it carry through a distance, cutting through Taehyung’s distracted thoughts and rapid heart rate, causing him to sharply turn his head in hearing his name.

“you must take us to your house so my friend doesn’t lose his wings forever.” This time the little one’s words are softer once again. Taehyung can forgive how Jimin’s tone sometimes grows sharp, he recognizes that it is due to his urgency and fear for the other fairy, and he appreciates when the tone fades, lulling into a calmer one. Jimin does his best to not let his anger get ahold of him yet again, relaxing his face and controlling his breathing. “please.”

“minnie, i think i’ll be fine,” Jungkook says, hushed and almost out of reach as he speaks into Jimin’s ear. Jimin shoots him a glare, fingers brushing over the fabric across the other’s shoulder that’s become brittle from the dried slime.

“shh, spring makes it too wet out here, you won’t recover,” Jimin says.

Taehyung watches the encounter of these close friends, waiting for Jimin to turn his attention back to him. Taehyung doesn’t know what to do in this situation, he’s never learned much about fairies, he’s always known they exist far into the forest and stay reclusive under tree roots or small burrows, but to encounter one… he doesn’t know if they bring evil intentions or black magic. Looking down at Jimin and Jungkook though, Taehyung presumes they don’t have the capacity to posses black magic, in how they exchange glances and touches. It’d be a huge turn of events if they were to cast a spell upon him or curse him. Despite this being such a small possibility, he does feel a slow and steady swell of fear within him just thinking of it.

Jimin turns his attention from Jungkook to Taehyung, who stands over them patiently. “We don’t take up much space anyway,” he says with a mild laugh. The laugh is somewhat forced, it is notable that he speaks with fear for his friend but he does his best to shed some of the concern from his face to replace with this brief humor.

Taehyung nods, he gives up on his fears of human and fairy interactions, his fears of them harboring black magic. Letting out a puff of air, purposely not aimed in their direction so as not to startle them, he slides his basket farther up his forearm and slowly squats down. He outstretches his arm and warily both fairies step onto his palm. He is steady when he stands up, his thighs straining as they focus on not shaking the fairies off of his hand. As Taehyung begins walking back to his cottage Jimin flutters his wings to gain a stronger balance, grabbing onto Jungkook’s shoulders to steady him because Jungkook’s wings aren’t reliable like they usually are.

“Here we are,” He says quietly so as not to hurt the fairies’ sensitive ears as he opens his rounded door and brings them inside his cottage. This is the first time any living creature has entered his cottage, spare the little stink bugs or rats that sometimes crawl through the cracks or scurry in when he leaves the door open to air out the space. He is nervous to show off the interior of his house, he’s spent years perfecting each wall, each counter. It’s a small little place but it’s cozy and he was delicate while building each brick of his small fireplace and each plank of the walls, and delicate while picking out little nicknacks to place in the different corners.

“this is nothing like our houses,” Jimin mumbles, walking down Taehyung’s palm until he stands on Taehyung’s middle finger, leaning so his head cranes to take in the expanse.

“Is that a good thing?” Taehyung asks.

Jungkook laughs, looking from the living room to Taehyung’s perplexed face. “yes.”

Jimin flutters off of Taehyung’s finger and explores the room himself. Taehyung’s cottage is one large square, behind him is his favorite window alongside the door, straight ahead his bed in the corner with a little table and rug, then his comfortable seat where he drinks tea in the morning and reads, or at night he’ll eat his dinner there, then there’s the kitchen counter with cupboards above and a small fireplace to the side with a pot that dangles for cooking his noodle soups, then a door which leads to his outside toilet and bath, facing away from the dirt road. It’s humble living but Taehyung enjoys it, he likes a quiet space that offers a view and plenty of wall space to hang paintings. And of course, easy access to his strawberries, which bring most of his happiness when they grow well in strawberry season, and in the offseason the soil can be used for planting foods for dinners and enough crops for the occasional market trip to gather coins to secure him through the cold season.

The fluttering fairy settles onto the bumpy counter top and evaluates the three bottles left out from last night, one of soap, then of lemon juice and finally vinegar. Jimin’s little hand reaches out and traces the vinegar bottle’s label, the label is about the size of him, the bottle towering over his figure. His head whips around to look over at Taehyung who still has his hand outstretched with the little Jungkook perched on it, and his other arm still with a slug basket dangling from it.

“what’s this?” Jimin asks of the vinegar. “is it water? it’s clear.”

“Oh no, it’s vinegar,” Taehyung answers. Jimin flutters back to his palm and meets Jungkook there.

“will you set him down?” he asks, his tone doesn’t present it as a question though, rather it urges Taehyung to do as told immediately.

Taehyung brings his arm carefully over to the counter and sets them both beside the bottles, which they both take notice of. “it’s strange to be next to human products,” Jungkook says, eyeing the objects the same way Jimin just had. “i’m used to things being bigger than me, like the tall waterfalls, but i’ve never seen water packaged like this.”

“it’s not water it’s vinegar,” Taehyung quickly responds. Jungkook’s eyes squint at him.

“what’s vinegar?”

“it’s like sour stuff we ferment for a while.”

“why?” Jimin asks. He never seems very pleased by anything, always raising a brow or slanting his hip, in this case he folds his arms over his chest.

“well i use it for cleaning and just yesterday i made an anti bug spray with it.”

Jimin’s face shows how he does not tolerate this answer, if he doesn’t understand something he does not tolerate it. His plump lips puckering, “an anti what?”

“Anti bug spray. Bugs have started to eat my strawberries this season.”

Jungkook turns to look at Jimin and they pause before bursting into laughter. Their laughs are loud, even for fairies their size. And Taehyung just stands watching them, trying to understand. “What?”

“bugs haven’t been eating your strawberries, we’ve been making sure of that,” Jungkook says, still stifling a laugh. Taehyung begins to become frustrated.

“see those arms?! jungkook can massacre even the largest beetles!” Jimin exclaims, showing off Jungkook’s large bicep. The bicep itself isn’t large, it must be a centimeter, but in proportion to rest of him it does seem to be quite accentuated.

“plus, i have my dagger!” Jimin adds with a smile.

“I don’t, I don’t understand,” Taehyung says, exhaling harshly. The exhale nearly pushes both fairies over and they grunt against the force.

“watch it!” Jimin shouts, brushing down his pink ruffled hair so it lays flat on his head once again.

“we’ve been killing the pests so they don’t get to your strawberries before we do!” Jungkook proudly says, his face plastered with a smirk of pride. Jimin shoves him by the shoulder, taking notice of Taehyung’s obvious shock that grows across his expression.

“jungkook, shh!”

But it’s too late, Taehyung is frozen where he stands, staring down at them as his face morphs. “You’ve been eating my strawberries?” His voice remains calm and quiet, he’s still too confused to become angry.

“only a few this season, we normally don’t get this close to a human’s farm.”

“Then why did you?” Taehyung says, an anger growing with his words. Doing his best to stay calm he takes his eyes off of the fairies, looking about his cottage riddled with hanging onions from the ceiling and little glass jars of strawberry jam. He doesn’t like to be angry, maybe that’s why he’d left the troubles of school behind when he graduated early and quickly settled into this very cottage in the center of a beautiful expanse of strawberries. These strawberries get rid of the daily troubles of jealousy and pride. So to hear they are being eaten by fairies he doesn’t even know, just to feed their greedy stomaches, causes a sting of hurt to settle in his heart.

“because we ran out of food in our village. And we were the one’s picked to make the journey and bring food back to them,” Jungkook answers, his voice somewhat mad.

What does he have to be mad about? Taehyung thinks, fingers wringing out his loose shirt, coiling into the fabric so as not to punch any surface or pounce with his anger.

“listen, we’d leave if we could, we don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t want us to be here. but now jungkook is damaged from your lousy slug basket and he can’t travel with me until his wings dry off,” Jimin says, stepping forward boldly, as if jutting out his chest was threatening to Taehyung. “so i think it’s only fair for you to let us stay the night after nearly killing my friend and inconveniencing our trip.”

Taehyung wishes he’d watched his fingers more carefully, had evaluated each slug before tossing them into his basket. If he’d just slowed down, not so exuberant in his lemon peel success, he could be remain peacefully ignorant to these fairies eating his strawberries. He’d simply blame it on the bugs and try to make more anti-bug solution and go about his normal days. Though his strawberries would still occasionally disappear or be littered with holes, at least this stress wouldn’t burden him as it does now. He’d collect a few less coins this season from his strawberry patch, he’d be cut short a few dinners but never think much of it. And these fairies would be fed. But now he knows too much, he’s too scared of how many fairies wait for them back home. How many fairies are expecting a plentiful amount of food from his strawberry patch? His mind swirls with his thoughts and can’t settle for a single answer. He looks to Jungkook’s wings that droop, weighed down from the dried slime that beings to harden across them. It’ll be hours before the slime chips off and Jungkook’s wings can spring back to normal. Though he isn’t a fairy expert, he’s had his fair share of clothes doused in slug slime and it’d take a good wash, then hanging them up on the clothesline for a few hours before they would become normal again.

Taehyung sighs, how has his day turned into this mess? This mess of morals; in looking to Jimin’s upset face with tiny fingers that curl around his dagger. And then to Jungkook’s wide eyes that beg for forgiveness, along with sparing him a place on this countertop to sleep until recovered. Though Taehyung slightly despises the little sassy fairy with a round head of pink hair and cheeks flushed red in his frustration, Taehyung’s consideration in helping them is solely based on how desperate Jungkook seems to be. It seems the black haired fairy knows he’s doomed if Taehyung forces them to leave, his wings are too heavy on his small body and he will not be able to travel at the speed Jimin must go, they will surely starve to death or get snatched by a bird before making it home, to wherever their home is. Taehyung can see this all in how Jungkook’s eyes glass over and light reflects from them. The little fairy’s fingers intertwine, almost as if he’s ready to drop to his knees and beg with fingers clasped. He doesn’t reach that point though, because Taehyung gives in before the other needs to resort to begging.

“You two can spend the night,” He says. It feels like giving up a battle, like saying, oh, it’s alright you selfishly devour my life’s work, it’s ok you steal my source of income. But Taehyung has to remind himself that his words don’t imply this, it’s only his fears that make his mind feel like his statement alludes to that. He hopes the fairies as well know that isn’t what he means, but with his growing fear he feels he must reiterate that. “I’m not some evil human, I don’t if that’s what you think of us or not but I know I’m good. I’m not going to let Jungkook die because of his damaged wings. But when they dry you must leave and you can’t come back, you can’t steal from me again.”

Truly, he feels evil. He hates this side of himself, the side that so strongly prioritizes his strawberries over another living creature’s well being. In this case, an entire creature’s village who rely on him. But he can’t seem to swallow the words and can’t seem to swallow his pride to take them back. So he lets them linger and tries to scramble to save himself, bring back some aspect of his humanity. “There is a farm close by with sweet potatoes, maybe you could bring those back to your village?”

Jimin looks down, at his bare feet that sway across the rock countertop. “sweet potatoes are too heavy and large, we aren’t able to break them apart or travel with their weight.”

“What about Jungkook’s biceps, and your little dagger?”

“even so, it’s not enough. we mostly rely on fruits and the occasional leaves like chard or breaking off pieces of cabbage.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, his ticked off attitude finally showing. Jimin eyes him up and sneers back, though it’s a small sneer from a tiny face, it still offends Taehyung.

“you said we can stay here. now leave us alone! don’t try to suggest us vegetables, don’t ask us about what we eat or where we get it. we do what we can to survive! we’re the strongest ones from our village, that’s why they sent us, and they’ll never forgive us if babies die because we couldn’t find a few strawberries to bring back,” Jimin snaps. He doesn’t leave room to be questioned, he doesn’t offer the chance for Taehyung to talk back. And this makes Taehyung only feel more guilt, more cravings for redemption and a second chance. But neither fairy gives him the opportunity, Jimin turns his back on him and walks to between the bottles, using them as a hiding place. Jungkook follows suit, winding between the three bottles and leaning against one of them to quietly talk to Jimin. Their conversation is blocked by the objects, as well as their tiny voices choosing not to carry through the air and Taehyung stands there, dumbfounded, as he’s left out of it. Finally he gives up, seeing how they purposely ignore him and don’t offer the slightest glance or ever turn in his direction. Taehyung turns away from his kitchen counter that is being utilized, not able to busy himself with making food on it, so he finds his comfortable chair and settles into it. He brings his knees to his chest and rests his chin on them, staring off into space.

How are there fairies currently taking residence on his countertop? How did he manage to buy a scrappy dirt lot, manage to turn it into a strawberry field, spend every day laboring over it so they’d grow perfectly, only to have them stolen from him by two rambunctious fairies with bad attitudes? This must be another one of his wakeful dreams, another time his lonesome mind got confused and took daydreaming too far. He hopes that’s what it is, but he isn’t a fool, he can reach out and his fingers grace over what’s real. He knows that this is his reality. If he settles all of his movements and closes his eyes, focusing all his senses on his hearing, he can even pick up the slightest mumbles from the fairies behind the vinegar bottles. Though the noise is there, he quickly chooses not to try and listen to it, knowing it only upsets him further.

The time doesn’t pass quickly. He must have begun harvesting his slug basket at a crisp seven in the morning, so once his interaction with the fairies ceases, many hours are still left in the day with nothing to fill them. One thing to do is dispose of his slug basket and he does that quickly and efficiently, it only fills maybe thirty minutes of his day. The rest is left to mingling within his thoughts, drifting in and out of sleep, and trying to ignore the itches of hunger that tingle within him. He doesn’t want to face the fairies yet again. They’re little beings that really cant’t do anything to him, and yet, their presence within his house sets the hairs at back of his neck on high alert, perked and trembling.

It reaches mid afternoon when his hunger overtakes any previous reserves he’d held. He promptly stands up from where he’d been slouching across his bed. He’d hoped he could nap until the hunger panes wore off but too much sun leaked through the closed blinds of his large window and plagued his eyes of rest. So he stands up swiftly and marches over to the counter. The stomping across wood floorboards wakes the fairies from their rest, they were intertwined in a mess of limbs between the bottles, using the shadows of the objects to escape the brightness of day. It’d been effective for a nice rest, but now Taehyung disturbs that.

“is it morning?” Jimin mumbles with a weak voice in just waking up.

“No, it’s mid afternoon,” Taehyung answers, his breathing exhausted and words labored. He just wants to eat, his eyes dart from Jimin to the pantry above, tongue licking across his bottom lip as his interest peeks.

“fairies don’t need to eat as often as you humans do,” jungkook says, looking to where Taehyung’s attention is focused, the pantry. Taehyung ignores his mockery, fingers reaching in and grabbing a jar of jam and a seeded slice of bread. It’s a hefty piece of bread, he made it himself and saved this last end piece a few days ago. It’s made from heavy grain and textured from the different seeds he mixed in for more calories. The jam looks appetizing though, a deep red with an illustrated strawberry across the label, hopefully, it’s sweet enough to distract from the stale slice.

“bread and jam?” Jimin asks, only stating the obvious as the two things are held in Taehyung’s hands.

“It’s a reliable meal and there isn’t much else to eat.”

Jungkook thinks for a moment, “what about those sweet potatoes you mentioned? why not boil one up? or bake it in your fireplace?” The little one’s stomach growls just saying the words and Jimin’s eyes alert to the noise. Jimin seems concerned with the other’s hunger, his usual sassy expression breaking into that of pure curiousness and wide eyed fear.

“I don’t know, I need to make the walk over there, it’s a few miles away and often times they’re on the farm so the trip is pointless because I usually can’t take any.”

Jimin’s face turns away from looking at Jungkook, immediately flipping back to his usual snappy expression, fist landing on his hip that juts out. “how are you going to go around getting so mad at us stealing from your farm when you do the exact same to the farmers nearby?”

Taehyung stutters for a response, brain scrambling and the hairs on the back of his neck once again rising. “I—”

“you’re a hypocrite,” Jimin blurts, his eyes narrow and his wings flutter, showcasing his anger.

Taehyung turns away, not giving the little angry fairy any more attention. He grabs a knife from the drawer and haphazardly spreads the jam across the stiff bread slice, not paying much attention to the action before shoving it into his desperate mouth. Once the sweet jam and dense bread are stuck between his molars he settles back into his comfy seat, letting the coming hours pass just as slow as before, but at least now his stomach is much more forgiving of the time.

Time has never felt like this before. It’s a sour feeling that coils within him as the hours go by so slowly and his sadness only grows with the time. Usually if there were a lull in activities to complete even the mindless reading or lounging about would speed time up. Now, it’s something different. Maybe it’s in how the fairies accompany the space, making the cottage feel even tinier to him, despite how little of it they take up. The walls seem to hug his form, if he were to shift from his duvet he’d wack into one of them. He only presumes this of course, but his presumptions become so strong he begins to believe it.

Previously, his cottage has never felt so lethargic, it’s always been homey to him, replacing the hugs of family members in its warmth after a long day tilling frozen soil. The floorboards, despite their often creaking, have been a hard surface against his feet while everything else may give in. The floorboard’s hard structure contrasts to the dirt road outside his house which he’d walk on to and from middle school. He doesn’t crave those days back, when his shoes would scuff along the dry dust of the road, it’d easily give into a shoe’s harsh stride. Sometimes just the sight of the road makes his stomach turn.

Taehyung much prefers the solitude his cottage offers, in how it may be quiet most of the time, but its atmosphere still seems full, with the different onions that hang from the ceiling, from the little treasures he’s discovered over the years that gather a comforting dust along the window sill. Even dust within his cottage feels soft and welcome, rounding over any harsh edge. These things alone usually offer him his solace, they fill the time. And even when they don’t their shapes morph into figures that fill his time. He can converse with the silhouettes and shadows that hover across the floorboards when the moon leaks through the blinds.

This is the first day that these figures don’t keep him company when lonesome. The warmth of the objects around him has dissipated, it rather resembles an itch you can’t scratch, a bug you can’t properly swat. He’d dramatically tear all of the onions from where they hang if he gathered enough energy to do so, but his bones succumb to lethargy, too exerted to want to do anything that drastic. Along with that, he still feels like the walls hug to him, if he were to burst from bed he thinks he’d surely knock himself out before even managing to stand up. So he lets the time go on, it passes by like drool slowly bubbling from an open mouth, it ticks wearily as if from a broken clock that can’t keep time properly.

The fairies don’t attempt any conversations with him as day slips into night, they keep to themselves, drifting in and out of sleep and Jimin keeping a careful watch on Jungkook’s wings. When darkness fully surrounds them and they can hear Taehyung’s breathing become slow, hiccuping with sleep, Jimin turns to the other fairy. “i think it’s time we leave.”

Jungkook’s eyes fully take in the scenery as he wakes from a light nap. For moment he pauses, trying to evaluate where he’s managed to wake up, but when he turns to Jimin he can remember everything, it floods his mind quickly and he shakes away the thoughts. “we aren’t going to wait till he wakes up?” he asks curiously, voice low.

Jimin raises a brow, promptly standing up and extending his hand for Jungkook to grab. Jimin doesn’t answer the question, he always has his own plans and Jungkook doesn’t care enough to ask what they are. The younger accepts Jimin’s hand, pulling himself up with the offered arm, only to realize how much he needed it. His body feels sore from the abuse of being smashed between the slugs much earlier in the day, and now he shakes out his limbs. They feel rusty, as if old machinery needing a harsh tune up.

The countertop hadn’t offered a very comfortable sleep for the two either, it only made Jungkook’s body more sore. Small ridges along a countertop are nondescript to humans, but they are large curves and bumps to the fairies. Their spines had to bend over the lumps, carefully controlling where each of their limbs would lay so as not let any sharp edges jut into them.

“test out your wings,” Jimin commands. He does a little wiggle to demonstrate and Jungkook follows suit. He first wiggles his hips, then his head to match, and this propels him to begin to take flight, his wings fluttering slowly and clunky. But as he keeps up his momentum, his wings follow suit, beginning to beat rapidly and efficiently, any leftover flakes of dried slug slime falling across the rock surface beneath his hovering feet.

“there you go!” Jimin exclaims, but he makes sure his voice stays small and only echo within the three bottles they still stand in the center of. Jungkook lowers himself back down to stand as he shakes off his wings, they don’t carry him as well as they did before the slug incident. He curses himself for not having faster reflexes, for letting a lousy human’s slow hand manage to grab him.

Amidst the quiet between them Jimin speaks up, “i’m sure rudolph has ran off by now,” he mumbles. The Rudolph he mentions pertains to their rat companion, named after Rudolph the red nosed Reindeer. Ever since the rat was born the village trainers could see he’d have a powerful stride. So he was raised to carry fairies along their different journeys, much like the reindeer who lead the way for Santa’s slay.

“back home?” Jungkook asks.

Jimin manages a stifled laugh, his eyes darting about more frantically now. “yeah. he probably ran home and told everyone we got snatched by a human and murdered.”

“he didn’t see much of it?”

Jimin shakes his head, “i don’t think so, he was a ways off when you got tossed into the basket, that’s probably the last he saw of us until we were picked up and taken here.”

“god…” Jungkook sighs. His fingers reach out and stroke through Jimin’s locks of pink hair, soothing the other of the obvious tension that rises in his body.

Jimin succumbs to the touch, not pulling Jungkook’s hand away, letting the other’s finger ruffle through his locks. “let’s just leave this place as quickly as possible so they don’t grieve us for too long.”

“we can’t travel the whole way back ourselves,” Jungkook says. His eyes dart behind himself to where his wings sway, he can see distinct scars and thinner sections across them, nearly torn from his travels, and weary after having to carry the weight of dried slug slime. The gaze he casts towards his wings is obvious, how his face tenses into a slight anguish before looking away. Jimin wants to console the other in return for how softly his fingers graze his hair, they’re still paused within his locks, nearly squeezing until it pulls at Jimin’s scalp. Bringing his hands up to meet the other’s, their fingers intertwine for a moment before Jimin brings their connected hands between them.

“don’t worry about your wings jungkook, we’ll find another rat to help us get home and then we’ll repair them.”

The taller boy looks away, a hurt forming along the lines of his mouth, the corners of his eyes. Jimin quickly brings his fingers up to graze along the other’s skin, “we’ll repair them and they’ll be as good as new, maybe even better, alright?”

Jungkook finally nods, squeezing the hand that smoothes over his face before letting it drop to Jimin’s side. It’s a drawn-out moment so Jimin tries to fill the silence with a sigh, looking about the cottage’s interior, “I bet another rat is in here somewhere, you can’t keep so many preserved vegetables and not get any rats.”

Jungkook giggles, his wings fluttering as he does so, and they both take flight from the counter. They fly down to the floorboards to observe any cracks in the wood or holes in the wall. Any rat will do, but as they begin searching, Jimin’s mind can’t help but think back to Rudolph. Rudolph the rat has been their travel partner for every expedition they’ve been sent on, the trainers had been right, he was born to be a speedy rat and grew up to amplify that. The village took to training him well, much more food and energy going towards him over the other rats who could never compare to his speed. Rudolph didn’t even need much training, rats are already loyal and well behaved, as well as his running abilities came about with little effort.

Rudolph though, despite his running abilities being superior and the bonds he’d form with his owners being unbreakable, one ability set him apart. Hardly any other rats could speak as he does, if they did Jimin has only heard of it from tall tales long ago. Rudolph’s English is well developed, speaking much more fluidly than many other forest animals who come and go from the village, he’d even join in with Jungkook and Jimin’s conversations on occasion.

While the fairies scurry about the floorboards, making sure no steps let out a loud squeak from the old wood, they wish to remain silly and light-hearted. Jungkook presses his back dramatically against the wall, walking sideways to pretend he’s a spy of some sort. Jimin giggles, tiptoeing across the suspended onions, his wings fluttering to make it look like he’s walking across a bridge as he tiptoes through the open air. Despite this silliness, deep down they both have fear slowly swelling within them. Jimin fears for Rudolph, how well he’s braving the forest without them on his back. On journeys, Jimin’s dagger would often cut through sharp bristles to clear their path, or if a larger predator came about his knife was threatening enough that they’d eventually runoff.

Jimin as well fears for his family, if Rudolph makes it back he doesn’t know what that encounter could entail. Despite Rudolph’s impressive English dialect, a rat is still a rat, and Jimin’s family could choose not to believe him. They could place blame for Jimin and Jungkook’s disappearance on poor Rudolph and Jimin’s heart feels heavy at the thought, even if they don’t kill Rudolph for this betrayal, he’d certainly be banished. Jimin doubts he’d ever see Rudolph again if he were to be banished to some wayward fairy village farther into the forest than Jimin can bear to think of. He’s never braved deeper into the forest than where his village resides, the brush becomes deeper and the shadows darker, the fairies that live that far off are known for their harsher antics and more cruel treatment of their animal counterparts. Jimin shivers at the thought of Rudolph being sent there. Even if Jimin were to find Rudolph again, he’d never forgive himself for being so careless, not letting the rat know that he was well before heading off to this strange human’s cottage of which he now resides. The rat doesn’t deserve any of this turmoil, if that’s what he’s going through, wherever he is.

Jungkook beacons Jimin over to a specifically larger crack in the wall than any of the previous they’ve explored. Jungkook’s eyes are wide and curious when Jimin approaches it the other hushes him so Jimin raises himself from the floor and uses his wings to hover there quietly.

“i think there’s a rat sleeping here,” Jungkook says, so quietly he’s practically just mouthing the words. Jimin tries to squint and see but it’s much too dark to pick out a figure.

“aren’t rats nocturnal?”

Jungkook shrugs, “do i look like a rat expert?”

Jimin giggles, nudging the taller boy who’s face breaks of seriousness into a small smile. It’s an inside joke between them, Jungkook feigns a curious and inquisitive nature, but really he always knows the answer to his questions. Despite the smile that morphs his features, Jimin can only guess how internally upset Jungkook is right now under that mask. Jungkook was the one who raised Rudolph, named the rat, taught him how to speak despite being told over and over it’d never be possible. Jungkook’s coaching lead Rudolph to become an expert in dashing over large rocks and the many sharp twigs across the forest floor without hesitation. So he knows that rats are nocturnal, he probably knows the specific sleep patterns of them, how different breeds may go about it differently, and so on. But Jimin knows not to disturb whatever the other may be thinking of, he doesn’t like to intrude unless explicitly asked for advice or comfort. Jungkook knows when to ask, if his eyes glaze over with the sprout of tears, or his head turns down to hide his face as he begins to cry, Jimin knows then to help. As the smile hides any of his fears or sadnesses, Jimin just waits for his cue, giggling along. He prays for Rudolph’s safety on the way back home.

“i don’t want to startle it away…” Jimin mumbles finally, his wings flutter up so that only his toes remain on the ground, standing on his tippy-toes like a ballerina. He leans his figure over, suspended mid-air with head craning to look farther, and yet getting no results. Though his efforts are fruitless his form is admirable, body arching in the air as if gravity never bothered him, his wings put in all the effort so that he can bend the way he does. Not many other fairies use their wings the way Jimin does, so gracefully, like each movement of his is an art form.

“i’ll go get some jam to lure it out,” Jungkook says as he flutters into the air and back to the countertop. His wings carry him well enough, but Jimin can see how they strain from his weight. They flutter faster than other fairy’s wings, beating rapidly to gather enough momentum. Every part of them is still in tact, but Jimin can see how that’s slowly changing, with each beat they become weaker and more vulnerable to a tear. This rat will be very needed or else their journey will surely fail, either landing them stuck somewhere between this damned cottage and their village, or picked apart by predators before their wings can carry them to safety.

Jimin must shake away this train of thought he lets himself fall into. He purposely avoids his eyes falling to Jungkook who flutters about by weak wings, instead he twiddles his fingers and watches how his feet trace the air as he suspends himself above the floorboards. While he doesn’t watch Jungkook’s actions, he can still hear them, they are slight noises such as the pop of the jar’s clasp as the lid’s pressure is released. It’s not enough noise to wake Taehyung, hardly more than if a full-grown human were to roll over in bed.

Jungkook finally returns with his large clump of jam, it jiggles within his palms with the harsh rhythm that his beaten wings carry him. Jimin can see how Jungkook is aware of the labored movements, how sensitive his wings are to his weight. They seem to arch from off his back, it’s hard to see this so early into the night, they’re already threatening to fail him. But again, Jimin won’t mention it until Jungkook prompts him to. He does offer a slight smile, as if to replace the words, the gesture hopefully telling Jungkook “i’m here if you need me.” Jungkook acknowledges it with a tiny nod but doesn’t say anything more.

The jam must be less than a teaspoon’s worth but it will hopefully satisfy the rat’s appetite, while as well not making the entirety of Jungkook’s arms sticky with jam for the remainder of the night and following morning. Even if only a baby rat emerges from the crack to eat up the small amount of jelly, they could ride on a baby rat for all they care, it’d still be able to hold them well enough. The journey would certainly go by slower, probably having to take detours around the larger obstacles, and in how nearly no other rat compares in speed to Rudolph. But anyway, the amount of jam should be enough suffice.

Jungkook is wary though, whether it be a large or small rat it could still easily bight off his head if it really wanted to. He approaches the entrance of the little hole, “pspspspsp,” he whispers, dropping the jelly there before quickly retreading. Despite his years of training, he is always wary, the scar on his cheek just shows that, despite experience, an animal can still lash out. So he backs up promptly, standing beside Jimin as if for coverage behind the other’s small body, observing the jelly that waits in front of the shadowed hole. The waiting makes the tension grow, a silence and stillness between them, finally the silence is broken when Jungkook wipes his sticky hands against the fabric of his shirt. The fabric is stiff from the dried slime, so it takes the jelly off of his hands easily, only the slightest tinge of stickiness still remaining in the lines of his palms.

“pspspspsp,” he says yet again, the silence was getting to him. It is all starting to get at him, this dark cottage with that clumsy human, his clothes which irritate his skin. Things must happen promptly, he needs to board the back of this rat and be rid of his slime-covered clothes after a few days of travel. All this waiting is building up, piling onto his shoulders as if bricks which threaten to give way. He wants to beacon for the rat even louder, he’s not one for whispering.

Jimin brings his finger to his mouth, a slight anger to the gesture as Jungkook makes so much noise. Jungkook eyes the other’s frustrated expression and he only smiles with a shrug, and Jimin can’t help but break his serious expression to smile back. It’s like that with them, they can’t take things seriously, even while stuck in a human’s cottage while trying to lure a rat out of hiding to make a grand escape. Even in these situations of adrenaline and tension, Jungkook’s nose scrunches and Jimin’s eyes squeeze shut with his grin.

There’s a scuffle very close to them. It’s too close to be Taehyung who lays out on his bed like a dead weight behind them. The scuffle disrupts their eye contact and they turn to look to the dark crack. There’s a long pause, both their breathes hitching so as not to disrupt the slightest noise from emerging. The moment drags and both of them want to breathe deeply once again and give up on the silence, and then, there’s another scuffle. This time even closer, nearly emerging from the depths of darkness.

Jimin’s eyes dart to the side, to look at Jungkook, gage his expression. Jungkook is prepared to tame the animal, his fingers are poised for grabbing it, his legs tense and lower as if he’s about to spring. And he might be readying himself to do just that. Usually, he’d rely more on his wings to carry him during a taming, always keeping him in control, but now he must rely on his leg strength to tame it before it can run off or retreat back into the hole.

The other fairy wishes he can help Jungkook, though Jimin’s wings are perfectly functional he’s never been the one to tame an animal before. In the village there’d been certain kids trained specifically to be tamers, so Jimin never got the experience. And when he was paired with Jungkook for their first journey together he relied on Jungkook’s talents to do the taming ever since. So now he’s quite useless when it comes to trapping and wooing an animal into servitude. All he can do is pray that it will let Jungkook tame it, offer a smooth enough transportation for the injured fairy, and land them back home before official funerals are held in their honor. It’s a grim prospect but time is running short as the minutes continue to tick by, careening them deeper and deeper into the night.

One more scuffle resounds across the small expanse of the corner where they stand. Jimin prepares himself to flinch if the rat pounces, but then its face appears. It can’t be…

“rudolph!” Jimin exclaims, he exclaims it without thinking, his voice catching on the words and resounding comfortably across the room. Jungkook’s eyes widen with the sudden intrusion of noise, his hand quickly slaps over Jimin’s mouth, Jimin’s lips pressed against his fingers before another word can escape him. Jimin easily gives into the pressure of the other’s hand, halting his actions, all movements from his wings and from his mouth. There’s a stirring from behind them as Taehyung shifts in bed, they wait, the bed slightly creaking with the weight of him turning. A long moment passes, Rudolph is frozen in place, half of his body out of the hole, and the rest of it wishing it could retreat right back in. The silence emanates in the room once the creaking is over, a hush falls over all of them, and then a hiccup. A sleep hiccup. And there’s no sign he wakes.

Still, they give it a few more moments, making sure that he drifts back into a deep sleep before resuming their greeting. Luckily, after the long pause, Jimin’s frantic heartbeat at seeing Rudolph appear from the crack has subsided, he is calm now, and peels away Jungkook’s hand from his mouth.

Rudolph slowly emerges from the crack completely, hind legs moving as if treading through molasses as he takes in the dark shapes of the cottage that towers over their small forms. His nose sniffs the fairies out, searching for their familiar scents, and his two front teeth jut out while he focuses. He searches first for the scent of Jimin, but it hits him quickly. Jimin has a unique smell, always smelling of freshly juiced grapefruit, a harsh smell at first, pungently sour, but once you get closer and closer to him as Rudolph does, it becomes easier to pick out the hints of sweetness which hide behind the citrus.

Next there is Jungkook. Jungkook is a more common scent, most of the trainers from the village have it. It’s of pine and fresh soil after a long rain. It’s a welcoming familiarity to the little rat Rudolph, as it not only reminds him of the many journeys he’s taken Jungkook on, but as well, the smell of home, one he hasn’t been home to in many long weeks. The time has passed as if dragging through eternity, his body quickly aging with the time as he reaches nearly a year old. The second his nose catches the whiff of Jungkook, he can instantly picture being a young rat, cuddled against the side of warm tree bark, moss growing from its side to use as a pillow, fairies dancing around a flame, singing some random song he could hardly recognize but enjoyed nonetheless. He must shake the thought away before it becomes too much, though his eyes have been open this entire time the smells have taken over his senses, so he purposely controls his nose and regains focus on the shadowed figures in front of him. His Jimin and Jungkook.

To see Rudolph stand before him sends a wave of relief through Jimin’s body. The other’s distinctive markings alone bring about a sense of ease, the rat’s light brown patches across white fur. In just the sight he can already feel the fur underneath his fingers, the sharp air hitting his face as they glide through the shadows beneath a canopy of trees, or through tall grass along a stretch of meadow. Feeling this way, in seeing just the outline and soft silhouette of the rat, Jimin finally feels some wave of calm hit him.

Jungkook’s eyes take in the rat with a more reserved expression, despite this reserve it’s obvious how pleased he is. Rudolph slowly approaches them and they can’t hold it together any longer, throwing themselves onto him in a strong hug, combing over his soft fur, warm with each breath that heaves his form. Jimin’s fingers curl through his friend’s fur, it’s the feeling he’d craved for all day, so familiar under his touch. He wishes that this embrace could take place in any other location than the shadowed cottage of a human. His disdain for most humans doesn’t exclude Taehyung, who grumbles in a low tone while sleeping, filling the quiet air with the jumble of noises. Still, Rudolph’s soft fur is enough of a distraction for right now.

Jimin can’t manage to pull away first, it’s Jungkook that ends the embrace to take in Rudolph’s appearance with more concentration. “are you well?”

Rudolph nods his head in answer, nose still wiggling to take in every scent. “are you?”

Jungkook turns away from the question, eyes not meeting Rudolph’s and brow furrowing, begging Jimin to speak of anything else.

“we should get going,” Jimin says, voice still low and breath coasting across the air to reach the rat’s ear.

They don’t hesitate in their departure, walking beside the same wall from which Rudolph emerged, backs to it as they sidestep towards the door. Jimin is the one who flutters up to the handle and uses his entire body’s strength to turn the knob. Usually, he could rely on Jungkook’s stronger arms to do these kinds of tasks for them but looking down at his slanted wings that bend in their withering nature, Jimin doesn’t let the other overexert them. It’s a struggle to twist the knob though, he plants his feet against the door and wraps his entire torso around the knob, using his feet’s leverage to twist his frame until it slowly creaks open. This noise, of all the noises they’ve made so far, is the loudest. Rudolph’s ears quirk with the noise that leaks from the rusty metal knob, head darting around to see if Taehyung’s body at all reacts. There is a still across the room as Jimin carefully undoes the knob farther and farther. But there is no sign that Taehyung wakes, and Jungkook gestures for the Jimin to finish the job, the last crack of noise resounding and then the door finally breaking free from the lock’s restraint.

Once the click sounds Rudolph and Jungkook are quick to be on their way out, scurrying over the floorboards and through the doorway. Jimin flutters after them, not bothering to close the door behind him. The sound would surely wake Taehyung and have him chasing after them, but the cold air leaking into the room will surely wake him as well, at least it will give them a long head start.

Jungkook jumps onto Rudolph’s back as the rat picks up his pace, dodging strawberries with mechanical reflexes, never flinching nor second-guessing his speed. Jimin can keep up with the pace for a few minutes until he flutters down to hover above the rat’s back and plop himself onto it in front of where Jungkook sits.

And it’s them. It’s finally them. The wind gliding through Jimin’s pink locks, the quiet rustling of dirt and then grass under Rudolph’s scurrying feet. Night has taken full effect, the cold and mist glazing over the fairies’ skin. Hardly much is visible in the night but Rudolph is accustomed. When they hit the forest its dense canopy of trees only always for small slivers of moonlight streak across the forest floor. It feels right though, Jimin’s fingers grabbing desperately to the rat’s fur to hold on, Jungkook reaching around and wrapping his arms around Jimin’s torso. It feels as it always has, except Jungkook is much weaker than usual. Jimin’s head turns to look at the other, how his eyes glaze over against the harsh air hitting him, his frame slouched and pressed tightly to Jimin’s back, his wings flapping against the force as if made from a brittle fall leaf about ready to crumble.

“jungkook—” Jimin tries to say, his small voice taken away with the speed at which they travel. Rudolph jumps over a twig and gives them a particularly harsh jolt, only making Jungkook’s face contort to an even more strained expression. “it’s ok, we just need to make it to the village.”

Jimin nods, his hair brushing against the other’s cheek. “soon.”

#vmin #bts #park jimin #kim taehyung #bts fic #vmin fic #jimin fic #taehyung fic #bts v #bts jimin #bts fluff #vmin fluff #vmin slow burn #bts slow burn #jimin and taehyung #my writing #mine #sue bts

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sue-bts · 4 years

Text

of all the stars in the sky - yoonmin soulmate au

“look up, at all those stars, they’re all soulmates who’ve gone up to the sky together.”

yoongi has heard this all before, but it sounds new when it comes from jimin’s voice.

“aren’t they so beautiful? they shine so brightly because they’re together.”

“then what are falling stars?” yoongi mumbles into jimin’s skin.

“they’re people like me. who didn’t get to meet their soulmate before passing,” jimin’s voice is soft, but it pains yoongi so much to hear the other say those words. “they’re touching down to earth the spend the night with their soulmate, like i am with you.”

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Park Jimin

Warnings: implied character death, slight angst with happy ending

Words: 8,607

/ AO3 LINK /

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sue-bts · 4 years

Text

of all the stars in the sky - yoonmin soulmate au

“look up, at all those stars, they’re all soulmates who’ve gone up to the sky together.”

yoongi has heard this all before, but it sounds new when it comes from jimin’s voice.

“aren’t they so beautiful? they shine so brightly because they’re together.”

“then what are falling stars?” yoongi mumbles into jimin’s skin.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Park Jimin

Warnings: implied character death, slight angst with happy ending

Words: 8,607

/ AO3 LINK /

yoongi is fed up. that is usual for him though. with the day to day stresses of his job, the interactions that always linger in his mind. he at least has the sky to confide in. it has begun to welcome him with a certain degree of warmth that he hadn’t experienced most of his life, and bets not many others experience either. in instances he’d ask others if they found the kind of solace that he does when looking towards the night sky. they would hum, their gaze flicking up, scanning the stars, but they could never settle on a certain thing to focus on, they’d always look back to yoongi with a pressed expression.

“i suppose. don’t we all?”

yoongi would nod. but he knew they didn’t see it as he did. when he looks up to the sky, as he is again tonight, he knows there is more. beyond the pulses of light from the stars, behind the dark blue distance, behind the occasional wisps of clouds that part. it calms a part of him he cannot distinguish, his face holding a pleased expression, hardly a smile, but warm like a smile. his lips have a lilt to them, his eyes try to search for where this feeling comes from, where this warmth emerges, his fingers carve into the wet grass of night. of all the stars in the sky, he is falling in love with the brightest one.

this night is special, people in his small town were talking about it earlier in the day, and despite not usually paying attention to crowds or random chatter, he heard they were talking about the night sky, so he perked an ear to listen.

“there are going to be a lot of falling stars tonight.”

“oh, i heard! i’ll watch from my window.”

“me and the kids are going to set up a blanket and prepare food to bring with us while we watch.”

yoongi was pleased to hear this, that there would be falling stars. later, after closing up his shop, he made his way down his secret path to a clearing. it was all his own. no one knew about this small field that parted the deep forrest. it was easy to get to and yoongi often came to it to fall deeper and deeper in love. when he first found the clearing that offered him quiet after finishing his shift, he began to stargaze more frequently. on most nights he’ll bring a blanket and spread it out to sit on, and he places himself on it with a fondness in his heart.

tonight he can hear the buzz of people far off, there are a few other partings in the woods where other people more frequently gather. yoongi feels lucky to have a private space to himself. tonight, more people gather in these partings of the woods than usual. there are families together, couples, or the few who came alone, as yoongi has come. but yoongi knows these people by themselves must have a stronger feeling of loneliness than he does. yoongi looks up to the sky, there are no clouds to block his vision, it is a clear and crisp night.

quickly, he scans over the stars until his vision falls on his favorite one. it always flashes the brightest bursts of light than the rest and always beckons to yoongi in a way he can’t bring himself to fathom. never before has anything called to him as this star does. his mouth falls open, taking in the sight, wishing his thoughts could travel far up to the sky and the star could listen. they are silly thoughts, thoughts he’d never dare say to anyone. of love, of longing, of affection, things that aren’t commonly associated with a yoongi type of guy. but he can’t turn them off, they flood every crevice of his skull, they swarm his senses and all jumble over each other.

“hello?”

a quiet voice whispers, interrupting his pondering. yoongi startles, his head whipping around the little clearing. no one is there, no figure perched in the shadows, not the slightest shuffle across the grass. yoongi’s heart still jumps within his chest, his eyes can’t stop fluttering across the space.

“i’m sorry for scaring you…” the voice whispers again. it is so faint yoongi can’t distinguish if it is a different voice than his own within his head. he remains quiet, itching to stand from his blanket and make sure no one is hiding on a branch or behind the bark of a tree. even if they were, why would they bother with yoongi, a little man who only wants to gaze up at the sky?

“yoongi? your name is min yoongi right?”

yoongi’s stomach twists, maybe he’s spent a few too many hours alone, maybe he’s started to go mad. he swallows harshly, finally summoning the courage to stand up and gather his blanket, frowning at his surroundings. maybe some child from the town was dared to mess with the loner of the town, startle him to the point that he never dares go back to his favorite patch of meadow along the countryside. yoongi shakes his head, beginning to stomp off in the direction of his cottage, he never has the patience to deal with little children’s games or someone disturbing his quiet.

“wait! don’t go. please.” the voice is even fainter than before, beginning to sound like a small gust of wind between tree branches. if someone told yoongi they heard the noise as well he’d believe it to have been just the whistle between blades of grass.

“i’ll loose my voice completely if you remain so startled. please, calm down, come back.”

the phrase drifts through yoongi, the sound is different than any thought he’s ever had, any noise anyone’s ever spoken to him. it reverberated, it twists itself within his joints and wafts across his mind. he stops in his tracks, but doesn’t dare return to his divot in the grass. a fear tinges within him. does he have a stalker now? would he return to his cottage only to see it’s been raided? he knows that he isn’t the most popular in his town, that people keep a respectful distance from him because someone so quiet must hold some kind of secret. but he also knows that he exchanges pleasant smiles with everyone he works with, that he mumbles quiet hello’s, goodbye’s and thank you’s at the farmer’s markets or when he sells bread at his bakery. still, he is an agile man, his feet can hardly dare move forward, but defiantly don’t return back.

his gaze travels back to look up at the sky, he searches the stars for some kind of answer, some kind of explanation for the little voice that plagues all his senses. he is met with the same response as any other night, the familiar rhythm of their glowing, the flickering that never ceases. finally, his gaze falls back to look up at the brightest star, his star. it radiates a light unlike all of the rest. he knows it isn’t a planet, it isn’t that large, it is just sharply bright, it calls out to him as if a light that bright could summon a noise, as if… it had a voice.

yoongi nearly stutters on his breath, his fingers curl around the blanket he still holds within them. his mouth wants to find the right words but he can’t, he’s never been good with words, how could he even try to say the right thing in a moment as confusing as this one?

“you don’t have to speak,” the voice urges, it is stronger than the last time it spoke, but still tentative and quiet, a whisper loud enough to know it wasn’t just the brush of leaves against each other or the rustle of dry grass.

“i can hear everything you think yoongi, you don’t have to speak.”

yoongi’s throat feels parched, his limbs feel heavy. so heavy he doesn’t dare try to drag them along to leave, he stays where he is, his eyes trying to search the star for some kind of answer. why was this happening to him, why was a voice suddenly in his head, was he really starting to go mad? was he drugged? was he really this lonely?

“yoongi… no, it’s me. where you’re looking, that’s me.”

it can’t be, that the voice answers all his rambling thoughts. that it starts to shine even brighter as his gaze is transfixed to it. its light flickers in a new way, faster, stronger. a warmth floods yoongi’s entire form, his veins feel surges of warm blood, his heart feels light and radiant, it’s like questions that had never crossed his mind are answered, things he’s never wondered, they are all crystal clear. he feels he could almost glow, the light flashes back, beckoning yoongi to, buzzing to the point it could almost make a noise.

“do you believe me now? i’m the star, i’m jimin.”

the air is crisp, the night sky is illuminated by the star’s light. yoongi glances around, is anyone else noticing this? this surge across the night, that the tops of trees and the tips of grass become clearer, the cottage’s roofs are nearly visible from a ways off. the star… jimin… is bringing about a light that yoongi has never seen take over darkness like this before.

“jimin?”

yoongi finally asks, the word doesn’t leave his mouth, it comes from within his head, but it is bolder than the rest of his thoughts, it stands out amongst the onslaught of his many questions and observations. when the word stands out the star flickers faster, and a stronger warmth swirls in yoongi. the feeling is profound, his body feels nearly overtaken by it.

“yes! yes it’s me yoongi! do you understand now?”

“hardly…”

“ah, well, i think everything will make sense at some point. just have patience and don’t give up on me.”

the words grow each time the voice speaks, it isn’t a whisper anymore, it calls out to yoongi in a voice resembling anyone else’s. yoongi scans the clearing once more, the sky is brighter now, there are only a few shadows of night amongst the gatherings of trees around yoongi, and no one hides behind them. no one is the owner of the voice.

yoongi looks to the sky once again, his heart feels like it is beating wrong, at a pace unlike anything he’s felt before.

“what is happening?” yoongi finally asks, the words pulsing within the confines of his mind, trying desperately to understand, so that he doesn’t feel insane, that he knows that in his isolation his mind hasn’t started to play tricks on him.

“i think you’re starting to fall in love with me, that is how my voice has become stronger, it’s loud enough to reach you now.”

yoongi pauses, his fingers tightening around the blanket, his knuckles white.

“please don’t panic. i love you back. i don’t mean to scare you, i love you so much. please look up at me.”

yoongi closes his eyes, his jaw tightening, he does his best to calm down his breathing before he finally tilts his head to look up. he doesn’t usually follow orders, but for some reason he follows these. the star, brighter than the rest, is pulsing with light, faster and sharper than it has on any previous night, it radiates a light across yoongi’s skin until he feels warm. his face must be blushing from the heat.

“i love you?” yoongi asks. he searches for anything, he searches for any answer.

“that must be how i’ve gotten my voice back. it’s so strange to hear myself, i haven’t been able to in so long. i’ve missed my voice.”

“where did it go?” yoongi feels more confident in responding, it begins to make sense. the warmth in his body makes it make sense, enough sense to speak.

“i lost it about a year ago, i was so sad to loose it that i became the dullest star in the sky, i hardly shined at all.”

“and now you’re so bright.”

“it’s only because of you, yoongi, because i found you. and it made me shine again, i knew i could hear my voice again if only you fell in love with me too.”

yoongi’s heart feels like it could break, like it could beat until it gives out. he tries to swallow his fear, tries to understand this voice’s words, jimin’s words. but yoongi has never been a believer in much, he never feared the common ghost stories or worried that his exposed feet would be snatched by the boogyman while he slept. so his gaze turns away from the star, he tries to regain his composure so he can leave this behind and sleep it off. his feet hardly turn in their tracks before the voice speaks up again.

“yoongi! please don’t leave yet! i can’t reach you through the walls and roof of your cottage. this is where i can speak most clearly to you.”

“why should i listen? why should i believe any of this? that i fell in love with a star? that a star could be a human?”

“i don’t know how to convince you. but i was a human. i was a boy, around your age, somewhere in my twenties. i got into an accident, everything became jumbled, i can hardly remember anything of what happened. but i ended up here, i’ve been up here for nearly a year. my name is jimin, or, my name was jimin.”

yoongi falls quiet. not only in sound that escapes his lips but as well the sound within his mind. it silences, fear and shock and confusion overtaking him. he can’t take all of this in, he isn’t able to look back up to the sky, to that star, if he does he fears he’d surely fall completely in love, past salvation. yoongi never thought of himself to be a hopeless romantic, and he doesn’t want to start thinking of himself as such. he is too stubborn to give in, and yet, his limbs are too stubborn to let himself leave. he curses his weak bones, his fragile limbs, how they never obey him.

“how do i prove myself to you? how do i make you believe me?” the voice is once again faint, each word becomes harder to say, and weaker in execution as yoongi’s dismissal of it only increases.

“please, just give me time. i need to go to bed, i need to think over this all. if i come back tomorrow night then you won’t have to convince me of anything.”

“and what do i do if you don’t come back?”

yoongi wants to run away, he doesn’t want to answer hypotheticals, he’s never tolerated them because they confuse him. they make him feel guilty and weak. he doesn’t want to be weak, he doesn’t want to leave this star waiting for him, and yet, he can’t wrap his mind around any of it. he’s always been a stubborn man who grew up in a stubborn town of farmers and bakers and people who never dared ask any questions. so yoongi has never been fond of asking his own.

he leaves it at that.

“just. wait for me, i need to sleep.”

yoongi finally finds the courage to move his limbs, the voice tries to call out to him within the confines of his own mind but it’s hardly syllables and never manages to become real words. they are a hum of faint sounds until they completely fade out as yoongi keeps walking away. through the thicket of trees and bushes, down his little secret path, he makes it to the edge of his town and the path continues to lead him back to his house. there is no semblance that the voice ever existed, ever penetrated into the corners of his brain.

and he wants to dismiss it at that, that he had become too sleep deprived that the wind started to play tricks on him. he wants his blanket to warm his body as the night sky had, and he’ll be able to be content with that, and never need to return to that clearing of grass where that little voice had spoken to him.

but it isn’t that simple. his thoughts are stuck in the divot of grass where he’s always sat, his heart tugs in his chest to return to it, to break past his reserves and preconceived notions of reality and believe in the voice, believe in that bright star named jimin.

when he settles into a wakeful sleep, the voice echoes in his dreams, it repeats the words it had spoken in the clearing, it calls out to yoongi, the voice so soft when saying yoongi’s name, it’s a sweet and tiny voice that curls when saying yoongi’s name. and then yoongi’s own thoughts repeat the star’s own name, jimin jimin jimin. over and over again. yoongi rolls over in his sleep, he begs the voice to leave him be, to drop it, to forget it. but it never relents. the sweet voice, of high pitch and the syllables coming out as if singing a pretty song.

yoongi hardly has a pleasant rest, when he wakes up his bones ache and his mind swims with a headache. the day is hardly brighter than when the bright star had lit up the night. his window leaks in sun, but the sun’s warmth doesn’t compete with the star’s. nothing is the same through yoongi’s eyes anymore, his mouth wants to trace the word jimin through his teeth, he wants to say the name out loud, it runs through his mind, spiraling past his control.

“what a disappointment,” a lady says to him as she waits for her loaf at yoongi’s counter. yoongi hums a response, the gesture implying her to continue, as he writes out her receipt.

“there were hardly any shooting stars last night, everyone said there’d be more,” she says. yoongi’s eyes glance up to her, scanning her face before retuning to writing out how much she owes him to the small sheet of paper.

a man has been listening to the conversation and chimes in, “yesterday’s prediction was off, it’s supposed to be tonight that they fall.”

the woman’s face perks up, “ah, well, i’ll bring the family out again to watch it.”

yoongi hands her her loaf and the receipt and she fishes through her pocket to give yoongi the proper amount of coins in return. he smiles a thank you as he receives them, slipping them into the register.

“will you come out tonight to watch?” the women probes further before leaving with her bread. yoongi is watched by the two, their eyes taking in his expression. he pauses, trying to find words.

“he never says much, don’t be offended if he doesn’t answer,” the man says, with a reassuring smile.

yoongi gives him a small smile in return, “i’ll probably go out and watch,” he finally says, his voice a rough mumble.

“great! i’ll look out for you.”

she finally leaves, what a relief, he can go back to checking on how his other loaves are rising in the oven. keeping himself busy doesn’t rid his thoughts of jimin though, the bright star, that’s voice had called out to him… and he wants to beat himself up for not understanding. he still really doesn’t understand it, not much of any of it, but his heart aches in a way he’s never been pained by before. and his mind can’t stop spiraling back to jimin. he doesn’t care if he doesn’t understand, he just wants to go back to his hidden spot, in his secluded section of grass, and find that voice again, to hear it’s soft tone, to hear it say his name.

yoongi, yoongi yoongi. he craves to hear the words, a craving stronger than any bout of hunger that’s made him crave the taste of food.

the sky finally begins to fade, the hues of sky blue turning to tinges of orange and purple as the sun finally begins to set. yoongi watches from his bakery window, finishing up his last loaves and packaging them up for final pickups. people cycle in and out of his shop, exchanging pleasantries when they receive their bread, but their voices never completely reach yoongi. he is somewhere else, transfixed on watching twilight slowly form. the stars become visible, only a scatter across the sky at first, but slowly they take over.

yoongi locks up his shop as quickly as he can when the last customer shuffles out the front door. yoongi doesn’t even bother to stop by his house before seeking out his hidden path. he’s memorized the different curves and bumps to it, he doesn’t need to look where his feet land as he scurries across the distance, his eyes are instead transfixed on finding the brightest star of the sky. it is harder than other nights, it’s not where it usually is, when he does notice one that is a little brighter than the rest, he realizes that it must be his star.

he settles into his cleared out patch of grass, he tries to seek out the warmth that usually floods his body when transfixed on the sky. only the slightest tinge of heat grows within him, he can’t tell if its from shuffling so quickly over to the clearing that he’s warm from exercise, or if its the familiar warmth of the star.

“jimin? is that you? you’re hardly brighter than the rest…” yoongi finally says, managing to push aside all his previous reserves, his fears, trying his best to believe in all of this, believe in the star that hardly shines.

there’s a long pause of silence, not even a wind picks up, it’s a particularly quiet night besides the mumbles from other families that have gathered once again for the falling stars.

“… yoongi? you came back…?”

yoongi’s heart soars, much stronger than anything he’s felt before, he sways with the motion, the familiar warmth suddenly floods his senses, overtaking him.

“didn’t i say i’d come back? i like to keep my promises.”

“i wasn’t sure, i was scared you didn’t believe me,” the voice increases in strength, yoongi can clearly hear how this specific voice forms its words, the tone at which they speak. it is a beautiful tone, every syllable comes out like a hum, like the beginning to a melody.

“i don’t know what i believe right now, i have no clue what you are, how you speak to me, but i know i feel the warmth you give off, i feel it when it coils in my stomach, and i guess i can believe in that.”

the star’s light flickers, brighter and brighter, until it once again floods the night and illuminates yoongi’s soft skin. he stares up at it, trying to find an answer within the silence, trying to seek out why he feels this way for the sky, for a star of all things.

“i know it’s hard to take in,” the voice laughs, “it’s still hard for me to understand, but i know enough i can try to explain it if you’d like me to.”

the voice is so sweet, it is of such a soft pitch, yoongi can hardly resist it any longer, he can’t force himself to not believe in it, he can’t bring himself to stand up and leave.

“ok, you can tell me,” yoongi finally answers. the star twinkles again, a faster and sharper light than any kind of star yoongi has seen before.

“i’m your soulmate, but i got into an accident. when one dies before meeting their soulmate they’re sent up to the sky and become a star. i spent months looking everywhere trying to find you, and i finally did, a few months back. you give off a small light, it was hard to find it, but when you found this clearing of grass and started to come to it to look up at the sky, your brightness became brighter and brighter, much brighter amongst the rest. you shine like i do, like a star on earth.”

yoongi’s breath hitches, he can hardly keep breathing, but his mind is quiet, waiting for the star to continue. clearing out any ramblings of his mind to give every opportunity for the star’s voice to be clearer and stronger within him.

“but i wasn’t able to speak until you began to fall in love with me, you fell in love with the sky and you returned my warmth, you let me shine brighter and brighter each day. and i was finally able to find my voice yesterday when you completely fell in love.”

“i fell in love?”

“i think so. i hope so. how else would i have gained my voice back? i think that’s how it works, a star’s voice returns to them when their soulmate falls in love with them.”

yoongi feels his heart stutter, his fingers curl around the blades of grass around him, he tries to grab onto reality, some shred of what it’s like to feel something real against his touch, something he can grasp.

“will i ever get to see you?”

there is a moment of hesitation, the brightness fading for a split second, and yoongi’s heart jumps in fear that the voice wouldn’t return to him again. up until this moment he hadn’t really longed for the star, didn’t feel a serge of pain when the voice wasn’t speaking up. sure, he had drove himself into a tizzy in pondering over the idea of jimin, the idea of the other’s voice within his mind. but he hadn’t missed it, he had puzzled over it. now, as his question lingers in the air, his words left echoing within his head, and the star’s response delays, he realizes how much he craves the star’s little voice. the way the star’s voice is kind, and its pitch is so innocent.

“…yoongi.”

it’s tearing him apart, yoongi is too weak for this, too easily pained by another’s attention that it destroys him.

“yes?”

“i could come down… and i could meet you there. but if i do, i’ll only have a few hours before the sun rises. and when it would, i’d have to go back, and i’d never be able to travel back to earth again.”

“will you not be a star anymore?”

“i will, i’ll still be able to watch over you as a star.”

yoongi wants to cry. he’d always known that others had found their soulmates, he knew it was real and never speculated it, but he always figured he’d live his life alone and probably never find his. he never put in the effort to meet people, to exchange pleasantries and find out if they were ‘the one.’ and now that he’s found his soulmate, and his soulmate is stuck up in the sky, he realizes how foolish he’d been. why had he so easily accepted his fate before? why had he been so okay to live alone the rest of his life? the thought of it now, of going back to his empty house filled with silence, never to be filled with his soulmate’s sweet voice, it irks him, it makes his stomach drop at the thought. he wants to pound his fists into the rough ground until he bleeds at the knuckles, he wants to curse the solar system, he wants to curse his pessimistic mind. even if he’s never met jimin before, he mourns the other’s death, he mourns how he’d never thought to really care, how he never bothered to seek the other out. how close had jimin been? how many times had their paths crossed? he never paid notice, how had he been so crue? all while his soulmate could only silently watch from above and hope he’d one day find this patch of clearing, and one day fall in love with the sky. yoongi’s stomach feels sick. how could he have been so blind to love? so dismissive of the idea that he too had a soulmate out there, as everyone else does, and he ignored it just because he was scared.

“stop. yoongi, please stop. don’t think those things of yourself, i forgive you, i was never mad at you.”

“how could you not be mad at me? my thoughts were cruel and insensitive to you. i never thought i’d find my soulmate, meanwhile you heard me think those things the entire time.”

“how could you have known? my shine was so weak you could hardly distinguish me even if you looked to exactly where i was, if you had your eyes squinted directly at me i was still dim.”

yoongi wants to collapse, to let the grass grow up around his body and slowly hide him from the world. he feels a tear form in his eye and he blinks it away before letting it slip down his cheek.

“i could’ve found you earlier, i could have found this clearing earlier and spent more time looking up instead of down. for fucks sake! i could’ve tried to find you before you went up there in the first place! before you became a fucking star up in space!”

“stop yoongi. you’ve found me now, you’ve given me back my voice. you don’t owe me anything, i was never mad at you.”

yoongi bites his lip, trying his best to fight back the onslaught of his tears but as they swell within him he’s no match. they begin to fall from his eyes quickly as his body shakes with the force. they make his cheeks wet and he does his best to wipe them away but it’s no use, there are too many too fast to keep track of.

“yoongi, your light is fading, stop crying, please, it’s okay.”

but yoongi can’t help himself, he can’t keep it back. the tears are rough and shake him to his core. when was the last time he cried? it must have more than a year ago. he usually does his best at keeping them in, remaining strong and impervious to the common sadness of day to day life. but now it all emerges from him, heavy and painful and unforgiving.

suddenly a burst of noise erupts, the family a ways down through the weave of forrest at the other side of the field, they shout and woo as they watch a falling star. the star trails across the sky, bright, fast, but yoongi can hardly watch it as his tears blind his vision. everything blurs and he shuts his eyes, it’s all too much at once. finally the crowd quiets, the star must’ve gone out of few from them, blocked by the thick horizon of forrest. yoongi doesn’t bother to watch, his sobs continue and his skin feels cold from the tears.

a finger brushes across his face, swiping away a droplet. yoongi at first thinks it’s a warm wind that’s gone through the clearing. but then there’s a second touch on his skin. he gulps, his eyes slowly fluttering open. and at first all he can see is a bright light, it’s hard to process and he blinks a few more times, trying to clear the haze of tears from blocking his vision. it’s still bright, like waking up from a dream and your eyes can’t process the harsh daylight yet.

“yoongi.”

it’s the voice. the voice of an angel. of his soulmate. but it’s much closer to him now, much clearer, it doesn’t come from the haze within his mind like a faint thought. it’s next to his ear, and a breath follows it. he can feel the breath brush across his skin, brush through his hair, it’s warm, it smells of flowers.

“yoongi,” the voice repeats, “it’s me.”

yoongi’s eyes are still weak but he manages to pry them open once again. his tears lull, stopping from their assault on his sensitive eyes. the light is still there, but it’s less bright, it’s less harsh. had his eyes adjusted? or had the light faded? finally he can make out a figure that sits close to him, the outline of a face, the outline of a body that hunches as it studies yoongi’s face. yoongi doesn’t want to believe it, the boy that sits beside him, he doesn’t want this to be real.

“you… you came down?”

“yes,” the boy answers. his skin is bright, as if a ball of light is within him and bursting out each of his pores. his entire essence glows, his hair nearly floating with the light, his body moving softly as if still floating in the sky.

“you used your one trip to earth…”

“i couldn’t stop myself. i’ve never seen you cry before. i couldn’t take just watching, you couldn’t hear my calls to you through your tears. you became so sad your light began to fade, and i slowly lost my voice.”

“why did you do this? i can’t forgive myself for this…”

“stop. i wanted to. you’re my soulmate. i couldn’t let myself just sit there and watch you cry.”

yoongi’s body feels sore all over, he feels like at any moment his heart could stop beating or his limbs could give out on holding his body up.

“jimin?”

the name makes sense now. before it had been hard, to put a name to a star while a star is so far away only a bright light. it hadn’t made sense. but now his soulmate sits beside him, his skin like an orb of light, his presence already filling yoongi with a stronger warmth than he’s ever felt before. before the warmth that had overtaken his form had come down from the sky, it had felt like a distant touch, a heat from a fire a ways off. but now the heat coils into his every nerve, every fiber of his being, until he feels like he could levitate, like he could sore through the night sky like an ember still pulsing from a flame.

“yes, it’s me.”

yoongi can’t help himself. he reaches out and pulls jimin into a tight embrace. it feels so new, so strange, so unfamiliar and yet so welcomed. the other’s body is soft and malleable to him, quickly giving in to the embrace and grabbing at yoongi’s clothing as tightly as he can manage.

“i’m not very strong,” jimin whispers into the crook of yoongi’s neck. his breath pulses against yoongi’s skin. “i’m mostly made of light, i’m hardly like i used to be.”

“it’s okay. i won’t hold you too tightly.”

jimin presses a soft, brief kiss to yoongi’s neck, his lips are so soft they hardly feel like much of anything, but the touch still sets yoongi alight.

“i just can’t believe this… you didn’t use your last trip to earth to visit your friends, your parents?” yoongi asks, desperation in his voice, his grip on jimin becoming tighter as they hug.

jimin pulls away, his own cheeks now wet from a few tears. yoongi hadn’t even noticed the other had begun to cry and he uses his shirt’s sleeve to wipe at jimin’s glowing skin.

“my parents died in the accident. you’re all i have left, yoongi. you’re plenty worth my trip.”

yoongi wants to fold into himself, he wants to curse the sky that he ever thought something negative, that he ever took anything for granted, that he ever plagued jimin’s mind with his pointless little mumblings. he can only reach out to jimin and hold him as his apology, his fingers digging into the soft white fabric that’s draped around jimin’s form. this all hurts him too much, to see his soulmate in pain, to see how his soulmate is barely made of skin or cloth, mostly resembling a shining light that’s hardly tangible for his fingers to grab.

“jimin, i—”

“don’t yoongi. i’m just grateful i can hold you this once. it’s enough for me. i’ve missed the feeling of holding someone.”

yoongi’s tears swell in his eyes again and he can’t help but burst.

“shh, shh, please calm down yoongi.”

“you shouldn’t be the one comforting me! me of all people. i should be comforting you.”

jimin’s face is still stained from the tears that trailed down his face, but his eyes are forgiving, they’re kind and gentle and they take in yoongi with a familiarity that makes yoongi’s heart cave in.

“come here, lay down with me.”

jimin’s embrace is warm, it burns past clothing between them, it makes yoongi feel like cold has never touched him, like rainwater has never soaked him. all he’s ever known is this warmth that all of a sudden covers him. this must be what a soulmate’s touch feels like, this must be why everyone’s parents are always so happy together. why couples stargaze together. yoongi lets jimin pull him down into the grass. their bodies are a tangle as they look up to the sky. yoongi’s crying slowly hushes until it’s completely gone, jimin cooing sweet nothings into his ear.

“look up, at all those stars, they’re all soulmates who’ve gone up to the sky together.”

yoongi wants to cry more but he lets himself calm down within jimin’s hold. jimin’s voice is too soft to drown out with crying. yoongi has heard this all before, but it sounds new when it comes from jimin’s voice.

“aren’t they so beautiful? they shine so brightly because they’re together.”

“then what are falling stars?” yoongi mumbles into jimin’s skin.

yoongi just pulls jimin tighter, trying to memorize the feeling of the boy, the way the other fits against his frame so perfectly. he feels himself become tired in the late hours of night, his eyes overused and his body giving in to its tiredness as it relaxes.

“do you want to know what i used to do on earth?” jimin asks into the silence. yoongi hums his answer.

“i used to sing yoongi. i used to sing all the time.”

“you did?”

“that’s why i was so dim when i lost my voice. i couldn’t even sing to myself anymore when i was sad and so alone up there.”

yoongi brushes his fingers through jimin’s hair, he lets jimin’s head relax on his shoulder.

“you can sing now, if you want to, i’d like to hear.”

jimin wants to cry again. but he takes in a deep breath, and lets out a faint hum, a melody forming from his lips. it’s a song yoongi has never heard before, but he enjoys it, maybe not for specifically the melody—though it is a pleasant one—but mostly to hear jimin’s voice. it’s light in its pitch, gentle but able to reach high notes without hesitation. the noise fades into the night, from his soulmate’s lips to the sky above.

jimin kisses yoongi’s cheek when he finishes the song, he feels how yoongi becomes more and more relaxed.

“i’ve missed that so much.”

“what song was that?”

jimin laughs, “i wrote it. a long time ago. but i never dared forget it.”

“it was beautiful.”

yoongi drifts into sleep. this is the first time in nearly a year that jimin has slept during the night, he’s missed how nice it is to close his eyes while it’s dark out, while everything is much quieter. he doesn’t fight his tiredness as he was kept awake all day worrying if yoongi would return to him. so sleep comes about easily and quickly. their breathing is slow and mingles together, it’s a soft melody that’s always belonged.

the first hint of light is what awakes jimin. his eyes flutter open and he instantly flinches as the sun threatens to peek from the horizon. the jolt of his body awakes yoongi as well, and yoongi at first doesn’t realize what’s going on as he’s used to awaking with the warmth of sun greeting his bleary mind. but jimin’s stiffness in fear alerts yoongi and he slowly turns his head to see the sun begin to rise.

“shit.”

jimin pulls yoongi up, his fingers desperately grabbing at yoongi’s hair, his skin, his clothes. yoongi wants to cry again but he’s ran out of tears. jimin’s fingers grab him and pull him close, their bodies locking together.

“i don’t want to go, not yet,” jimin whispers, his voice breaking. his voice is still so faint, and it becomes fainter as they’re both filled with fear, jimin’s light begins to fade.

“don’t. please don’t go.”

but there’s no use, a tug pulls at jimin’s body, his feet slightly raising from the ground before being set back down.

“what’s happening to me?” jimin nearly whales, his face contorted with his fear and sadness. he reaches out to hold yoongi’s hands, to memorize yoongi’s face so up close, the details of the other, the way his lips are thin and soft, and he realizes he never kissed them.

“i don’t want you to go,” yoongi says again, he wants to repeat the words over and over as it becomes his internal mantra. but as the words escape him, he feels like his voice is stifled, feeling if he dared speak his throat would crack in its dryness. he tries to wrap his entire body around jimin’s but the force that tugs at his soulmate is too strong, it tugs at jimin, pulling him higher into the air and once again dropping him and he collapses into the grass. yoongi cradles the other, trying his best to break the fall but knowing his weak lips don’t offer much support. his tears prick at his eyes but they’re too dry too many at once to fall.

“i have to,” jimin finally gives in, his words sad but knowing. he’s tugged once more by the cloth that’s draped around him, it’s a light, airy material that his glowing limbs are entangled within.

he’s dropped yet again, into yoongi’s hold. yoongi’s heart feels like it might break, he can’t keep this up, watching jimin get pulled upwards and then thrown back down to earth. he wishes he was strong enough to hold him, to keep him here, to not let his body he thrown about so carelessly.

“i can’t go on without seeing you, it’s not enough, i need you.”

“i can’t let that happen,” jimin says, his voice is strained.

“you said your voice becomes stronger if i love you. i love you so much, why isn’t your voice soaring?”

jimin hides his face, his small body curling in on itself, hiding from yoongi’s gaze, he’s crumpled into the grass.

“there’s a lot i haven’t told you.”

“jimin, tell me now, before you go, please.”

jimin wants to speak but his voice aches and can hardly manage a syllable. “once, you, go, to, earth, you, lose, your, voice, forever.”

yoongi wants to sob, he would if he had more time, if this moment wasn’t so short, he’d sob for hours if he didn’t have just these last fleeting seconds to speak to jimin.

“why did you lie? when you go back to the stars you’ll be able to watch me and hear my thoughts but i can’t even speak to you at night? i can’t see you or even hear you? no matter how much i love you?”

yoongi tries not to sound mad but his entire being feels betrayed, his stomach is sick. jimin hovers into the air again and collapses back into yoongi’s grasp.

“i didn’t want to hurt you, i wanted to be with you and not have you mad at me for coming to earth,” it takes every muscle in jimin’s weak form to manage the words. they’re slow and hardly sound like him, gravely and strained and hardly breaking past a whisper. yoongi can see how much it pains jimin to get the words out, how his throat must be bleeding.

“is there any other way? can i come with you?”

jimin halts, his hesitation is just long enough to give yoongi an inkling that he’s hiding even more from him. yoongi’s face breaks into a contorted expression, that of a deep desperation. his fingers grab onto jimin’s clothing, he tries to scan the other’s expression for any more information. without another pause, he leans forward and lightly kisses jimin. his lips are hardly there, but they’re warm, and meet yoongi’s kiss softly. it’s too brief, it’s not enough, but yoongi has to pull away. They linger close to each other, their eyes both trying to take in the other’s.

“tell me jimin, please.”

just then jimin is pulled the farthest yet, the sun begins to rise faster than yoongi has ever seen a sun rise before. the light starts to flood over their skin and heat up the morning air. jimin cries out in a choked voice as he hovers taller than the trees, and then quickly gravity takes effect and he falls into a roll. yoongi quickly holds him, scattering kisses across his cheeks and ears and neck and collarbones. it’s frantic, to make up for all the words he wants to say to ease jimin’s pain.

“tell me,” he repeats quietly against the others skin before pulling his lips away. and finally jimin is weak enough to give in to the other’s request.

“you can choose to come with me, right now, but only now. the tug can take you with me to become stars together, but if you don’t come you’ll only become a star once you die.”

jimin wants to cry, but he’s too weak even for that. yoongi is silent for a moment before he begins furiously nodding.

“i’ll go with you.”

“don’t say that yoongi! you can stay here, with your bakery, with your people, sleep in your bed every night, find another love. you can marry, you can have children, and i’ll wait for you and you can join me up there someday.”

yoongi shakes his head, he doesn’t give himself a moment to think because he doesn’t need it. their moments are limited, and he already knows his answer.

“i’m coming with you.”

“yoongi—”

“i don’t like the townspeople, i don’t like my damp house that’s covered with mold. i don’t need to have children with some wife i marry. and most importantly, i wouldn’t be able to live each day knowing i took away your voice, knowing that you couldn’t sing.”

jimin stutters trying to find a noise to escape his mouth but he’s not able to speak anymore. he tries but all that comes out is a faint grown from the back of his throat. his skin seems to dematerialize, to break apart until there’s only light left, only a bright light that begins to hover and float away, slowly but surely.

“let me come with you!” yoongi calls up, his hand outstretching. he’s able to grab onto jimin’s hand, what’s left of his hand anyway, and he feels his body begin to hover as the other pull him up. the unity of their hands lets jimin’s voice speak within the walls of yoongi’s mind, like the night that feels so long ago when yoongi first heard jimin’s voice echo.

“do you really want this? you only have a few seconds to let go…”

yoongi doesn’t need to speak out loud, he thinks the words that are meant for jimin more prominently than the rest of his thoughts, he knows jimin can understand them.

“i want this, us, i know now that you’re all i’ve ever needed. i know this is what i want.”

he can feel jimin’s heart sore in response, their unity connects the feeling to him, a heat returning to his body that surges. he knows jimin is smiling, somewhere past that bright light, he can see jimin’s eyes turn to crescents.

they begin to raise into the sky. the feeling is exhilarating and yoongi isn’t scared. this is probably the least scared he’s ever been of anything. he isn’t scared as his own skin turns into pure light, as his hand that holds onto jimin’s becomes melded in their unity. his clothes fall to the ground, all that’s left of him is the energy that pours from within his frame, illuminating the early morning.

as yoongi is raised farther into the sky, he can look over his town for the first time from this high of a height. he can see the tops of the shops, of his bakery, of his house, and further on the other little houses with people emerging to prepare their breakfast, or scuttle off to work or school. parents hold their children’s hands, they walk over the little winding paths within the town’s walls. it’s a sight that makes him nostalgic, but he can’t help the joy that floods his heart. in jimin’s hold, as they become no resemblance of human form but rather sparkling and flickering light, yoongi knows this is what he’s always really wanted. to hold his soulmate’s hand, to feel the warmth as their fingers entangle to become one, they hardly need words any longer, but yoongi doesn’t mind when jimin speaks, because it’s the prettiest voice he’s ever heard.

“it looks a lot more beautiful to me when there’s someone to share the view with,” jimin mumbles within yoongi’s head. his voice is so sweet, it’s so gentle, it has become calm as he gives in to being part of the sky once again.

the journey up to the sky takes most of the day, when they finally break through the atmosphere and mingle in space it turns to night across yoongi’s town. it’s a faint light from candles that he can see the outline of his town’s buildings and the people bustling home from work and the flames of fires heating their hands. yoongi and jimin’s hands are locked together across the distance of space, the darkness that surrounds them is illuminated by the light that they give off. yoongi looks around to see all of the others, all the other couples who shine together, the semblance of their hands outstretched to hold on to each other.

“has anyone seen yoongi?” a townsperson asks as they stand outside his locked up shop, no light emanating from within the building amongst the dim of twilight.

“must’ve up and left town,” another says. “there’s a new bakery that opened up just down the road, we could see if they’re still open.”

“ah, yes, i suppose. it’s a shame though, he was the best baker in town.”

as they turn away from his shop they don’t glance up to the sky that fades into night. they don’t see the two brightest stars in the sky, already shining amidst the last remnants of sunset. the two people seek out the other bakery, walking farther without a glance upwards, they don’t see the two stars connected with a string of light, that flicker in rhythm with each other as jimin sings across all of space.

8 notes · View notes

sue-bts · 4 years

Text

Matcha Frappe, No Whip - Jikook (f/m)

Inspired by: JK’s workout vlog

→ Slow burn smut. Avid gym-goer Jungkook orders from the in-gym smoothie barista Jimin. Prolonged stares, unhealthy amounts of smoothie consumption and a lot of muscle squeezing are the results.

or: Jimin can’t stop looking at the new gym regular, who makes a lot of noise while working out.

Pairing: Jungkook x Jimin

Words: 20k

/ AO3 Link /

Keep reading

29 notes · View notes

sue-bts · 4 years

Text

Matcha Frappe, No Whip - Jikook Fluff/Smut

AO3 LINK

7 notes · View notes

sue-bts · 4 years

Text

Matcha Frappe, No Whip - Jikook (f/m)

Inspired by: JK’s workout vlog

→ Slow burn smut. Avid gym-goer Jungkook orders from the in-gym smoothie barista Jimin. Prolonged stares, unhealthy amounts of smoothie consumption and a lot of muscle squeezing are the results.

or: Jimin can’t stop looking at the new gym regular, who makes a lot of noise while working out.

Pairing: Jungkook x Jimin

Words: 20k

/ AO3 Link /

Keep reading

#tumblr is dead haha #reblog

29 notes · View notes

sue-bts · 4 years

Text

Matcha Frappe, No Whip - Jikook (f/m)

Inspired by: JK’s workout vlog

→ Slow burn smut. Avid gym-goer Jungkook orders from the in-gym smoothie barista Jimin. Prolonged stares, unhealthy amounts of smoothie consumption and a lot of muscle squeezing are the results.

or: Jimin can't stop looking at the new gym regular, who makes a lot of noise while working out.

Pairing: Jungkook x Jimin

Words: 20k

/ AO3 Link /

“This dude won’t shut the fuck up."

When Jungkook got his membership, within just a few visits, everyone quickly developed a strong hatred for him. It seemed like gaining enemies would be hard to do so quickly… but Jungkook was good at everything, even when it came to being the most infamous gym goer. Having just moved to this city for college, Jungkook got himself a membership to the local gym. Isn’t college supposed to be a time to make friends? Despite this, Jungkook’s gym antics proved counterproductive.

He wasn't planning on waisting that type of money on the gym only to not go. First, that would be a slap in the face to his dad—who was paying for the membership—but Jungkook as well just enjoyed working out. He was an avid chest press enthusiast, along with being an expert at most other machines and workout routines known to man. Despite this expertise, people’s focus on him were directed to something different about him—not in a positive way. Their irritated stares were not to admire his perfect form or the curves of his muscles as they tensed, their attention was rather focused on how he was really fucking loud.

And this loudness wasn’t for brief little bursts when the workout became hard to endure. His noises would continue for long periods of time during his workouts, his noises were long, drawn-out and constant. They closely resembled moans, sometimes even turning into slight growls when the sets especially strained at his endurance. He’d let out these huge huffs and the gym attendees would roll their eyes and quickly try to turn up their own music.

On the rarer occasions, other gym members would even go up to him mid-workout and start up a conversation, maybe to distract him from his current circuit—quieting the gym for just a few minutes of peace—or maybe to segue the conversation into asking why he makes so many noises while working out. Jungkook was unfazed by the inquiries and the unwanted attention, he continued on without quieting himself nor noticing the many glares in his direction from the other people on other machines. He was that kind of guy, it wasn’t that he was insensitive or didn’t care, he simply didn’t notice when people were upset with him. He didn’t even notice a certain boy in certain little smoothie shop who couldn’t keep his eyes off of him.

☕︎

At first, Jimin didn’t notice when Jungkook joined the gym. He was always in a rush behind the little counter of the in-gym smoothie shop. Either he’d be taking orders, or in charge of making the drinks, or cleaning up. Whatever he was up to he was always trying his hardest to impress his manager; Namjoon always had a sternness to how he carried himself, his face usually stoic when he evaluated how Jimin worked.

It was probably about a week into Jungkook’s membership that gym employees, and a few gym regulars, brought up the new kid to Jimin, describing how he was wreaking havoc upon everyone’s ears.

“I think that dude must be listening to death metal in those little earbuds to not realize how fucking loud he’s being,” one middle-aged lady said with a sneer, before ordering a fruit smoothie from Jimin.

Jimin hadn’t thought much of the comment, there were always the odd complaints here and there from people who like to complain. The comments became more and more frequent though, Jimin presumed it was just an easy conversation filler while he took people’s orders, but their seriousness sometimes shocked Jimin.

“I’m surprised you haven’t gone mad yet listening to that one really loud guy,” one of gym’s personal trainers said to Jimin when he picked up his smoothie from the back counter.

“I’m kept pretty busy in here,” Jimin smiled, remaining professional. He didn’t even have to pretend though, still being unaware of who this infamous boy could be.

☕︎

Two weeks into Jungkook’s membership Jimin finally meets him. Or if we were to refer to him using the other labels Jimin has heard: “that loud son of a bitch,” “the kid,” and the surprisingly crude: “buck-toothed whiney boy,” (that one made Jimin laugh despite being so rude).

Jungkook’s typical schedule on Wednesdays is to come in early, around eight in the morning, before his summer class at eleven. And Jimin’s usual work schedule starts at one pm til the smoothie shop closes at nine (the gym staying open twenty-four hours). This particular Wednesday is different due to Jimin’s coworker’s dog deciding to get the flu, making him take on her shift. This puts Jimin behind the counter at the ungodly hour of nine in the morning.

Jimin is only an hour into his shift when Jungkook rolls into the smoothie shop, fresh from his workout, one AirPod still lodged into his ear.

Jimin is fucked.

Jimin doesn't get a chance to grab a good look of the boy before he approaches the counter; Jimin is used to being speedy and going about his orders in a rush, so it is second nature for him to see the customers in a blur, without taking the time to evaluate each of them.

When he stands with only the counter between him and the customer he does a double-take, that’s when he screws himself over.

The first thing Jimin notices of the boy is that his shirt is so sweaty the outline of his chest and abs are prominent, the shirt is stuck to them by the moisture, rippling over the outlines of his body. Jimin is sure that it must have been a normal t-shirt before this boy’s workout, but now, the thing resembles a wet sheet of paper, nearing translucent—but Jimin doesn’t really mind that.

Jimin quickly stops staring at the boy’s chest and instead finally looks up to the boy’s face. Jimin is blushing over how worked up he is at just the sight of this random gym-goer, hopefully the boy hadn’t noticed how Jimin had been so carefully evaluating his form.

Of course, Jungkook wasn’t paying attention to Jimin’s frantic behavior. Jungkook’s attention is turned to the blackboard menu overhead, eyes gliding side to side reading the different drink and food options. Jimin watches as the taller boy’s taught jawline flexes in thought, his sweaty hair plastered to his skin in little ringlets, his mouth opens and shuts while he reads the items silently to himself. It’s a tantalizing sight, Jimin doesn’t make an effort to clear his throat to gain back the boy’s attention, nor does he mutter the passive-aggressive, “Take your time.” Instead, Jimin utilizes these moments to watch the other, appreciate the angles, how the other’s breathing isn’t quite back to normal yet, still in little puffs that heave past the boy’s sharp collarbones.

For a few brief seconds the silence and wait is tolerable for Jimin, his fingers curling in on themselves as they press against the counter, his apron starting to itch at the nape of his neck. But then… the dark-haired boy’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek while he thinks. This view of the boy in front of Jimin, with his tongue pressing to his cheek, protruding from within his mouth, has a distinct correlation to something a bit more inappropriate that pulses within Jimin’s perverted mind. God, Jimin swears he woke up in some alternate hell dimension today to have to deal with this shit only a foot or so from where he stands.

It’s not really Jimin’s fault after all. This is his job, he can’t just run away from this angel man in front of him. But he still beats himself up for how horny he is already. Each time he meets a really attractive guy this kind of thing happens, he catches feelings so quickly—well, maybe not feelings, maybe just a lot of pent up sexual tension. And then later in the night he’ll go home and imagine all these made-up scenarios where he and this random hottie will have a meet-cute and end up fucking against his apartment’s little kitchen counter… or maybe on the rug so it makes Jimin’s skin bright red from friction… or or or perhaps they don’t even make it to Jimin’s apartment, they could just fuck in the elevator, he wouldn’t mind at all.

He tries his best to shake away this entire train of thought, it’s unrealistic, idealistic and a disappointing hobby to have as nothing much comes of it. Late night Jimin, when his lips are puffy and they become indented with his own teeth marks from how he bites into them during an orgasm, thatJimin has no regrets with the hobby.

“Oh shit,” the sweaty boy utters.

Finally, Jimin is brought back to reality, having had his vision turn to a haze while steadily focused on the other boy’s well-structured face. The boy doesn’t pay notice to Jimin spacing out on him though, his eyes are turned to his hand.

“Damn, I’m sorry I’m so gross right now, I didn’t even notice,” he says to Jimin, gesturing to how he had wiped his forehead of sweat, only to realize the degree of how sweaty he is.

Jimin, taken aback at how Jungkook hadn’t just blurted out his order (as most others would do), stutters to find words.

“Oh, don’t worry! I thought it just must’ve started raining outside or something!” Jimin exclaims, trying to add a cute little smile. The boy just furrows his brow and takes a glance at the many windows to outside the gym.

“It’s June,” he says plainly.

“…Oh.. yeah, you’re right.”

There’s a rush of heat that floods to Jimin’s cheeks, trying his hardest to ignore the awkward pause as the boy’s eyes are wide and blankly take in Jimin.

“Are you ready to order?”

The boy’s stoic expression finally breaks into a chuckle, “Right, yeah. I don’t know if I like any of these options.”

Oh?

Jimin pauses, dumbfounded.

The boy notices the other’s pause, “Which one’s your favorite?”

Finally something Jimin can comprehend. “I like the matcha frappe,” he answers, his voice shifting into a softer and sweeter coo.

“That sounds good to me, can I sub the milk for coconut milk?” He asks, "I’m trying to watch my dairy, one too many banana milks last week."

“Oh yeah, of course.” Jimin writes down the order to the cup’s label, match frap, sub co mk. “What size?”

“Is there a big price difference? I’m on a kind of tight budget.”

“It’s a twenty-cent jump from a medium to a large.” Jimin is grateful that he can rely on his usual script while taking orders, not having to fumble for his words as he usually does when having conversations with pretty boys. This fumbling of words is why his different attempts at Tinder or Grindr haven’t eased much of his sexual tension.

The dark-haired boy grabs the hem of his shirt and plucks it away from being attached to his damp skin, “I’ll go big and get the big.”

“Ok you like it big- I… I mean, you want a.. a large.”

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. F U C K.

Jimin tries his best to swallow his words but they’re already out, all he can do is stay focused on writing onto the label: large. He keeps talking as fast as he can so the other can’t focus on his mess up.

“Would you like whip?”

“Nah I’m…still watching my dairy,” the boy says. Jimin wants to punch himself.

The boy starts to pump his shirt to get an airflow to his stomach, he seems to be much too focused on how sweaty he is to really care about Jimin’s mess up. Jimin thanks the Gods above for this boy’s lack of an attention span. However, Jimin’s needy eyes constantly want to sabotage Jimin’s normal train of thought; they’re trained on watching how the boy’s flicks of his shirt reveal little glimpses of his tanned skin. His skin is smooth and taught, the V line prominent, daring Jimin’s eyes to travel down to where the boy’s shorts cut off the path.

Jimin gulps and manages a nod as he writes down,“no whip,” to the cup’s label.

“Name?”

Jimin finds it easiest to only stare intently at the cup’s white sticker label, no longer trusting himself to stand face to face with—

“Jungkook.”

It’s just a name Jimin, a stupid little name of someone You. Don’t. Know. And yet, Jimin’s heart bursts, it flutters, it drops to the pit of his stomach, he’s nervous, excited, the syllables echo, the sound of the other’s voice saying his own name bounces all throughout Jimin’s mind. Jimin doesn’t know why. But oh my god, he’s obsessed.

“Ok, I’ll get that going for you!” It’s hard to shift back to his customer service voice when it feels like a piano was dropped onto his head. But Jimin manages to get the words out, his fingers are a little shaky and his writing of “JK” is more squiggles than a coherent word.

Fucking finally. Jimin’s body feels like it’s soaring through the air when he’s able to rush away from the counter to make the boy’s drink. In this little section of the shop he can hide behind the different assortments of protein powders and fruits, it’s not that he’s hiding from Jungkook watching him, it’s that these objects can block Jimin from trying to watch Jungkook.

Jimin’s extra adrenaline lets him speed through making the drink, hopefully to get Jungkook out of his atmosphere as soon as humanly possible. In his rush he almost adds whip when he’s done with the drink but quickly stops himself, instead just adding a lid and straw to the to-go cup.

He goes up to the other end of the counter, “Jungkook…?”

Jungkook looks up from his phone to see Jimin waiting for him across the small shop and he smiles. That must not have been aimed towards Jimin, right? Jungkook must be happy his drink is done so he can leave… right?

“Thank you,” Jungkook says, still a small smile to his lips. He reaches out and takes the drink from Jimin’s grasp, but his fingers gently brush over Jimin’s as he pulls the drink away. Jimin looks down at the frappe, with Jungkook’s veiny fingers clasping to it, and a few glide over Jimin’s own fingers. Then there’s one little purposeful tap. Or maybe it isn’t purposeful. It might just be a tap.

Jimin looks up at Jungkook to gage the other’s expression, but Jungkook is already on his way out, completely focused on sucking at the straw to get to the first bit of his matcha. There’s a moment that passes and then Jungkook sways his shoulder and he gives Jimin one last glance before he’s completely gone.

How the fuck is Jimin—Jimin of all fucking people—supposed to comprehend if that was purposeful or a random accidental finger tap, if that was a purposeful or random last glance. Jimin’s insides are in a knot and Jungkook has only been in his life for maybe the better half of ten minutes.

Jimin watches as Jungkook leaves the gym, holding the door open for some men who walk in, giving some random high fives to other passer-byes in the parking lot until he fades out of view. Jimin feels a large tug of relief when Jungkook is no longer in vision. He doesn’t put two and two together, that this random hottie could as well be the loud nuisance everyone’s been arguing about.

Jimin just thinks to himself, imagine if that guy was always around! How would I get anything done?!

He quickly finds out just how fucked he really is.

☕︎

Even when Jungkook scurries out of the smoothie shop Jimin isn’t rid of the boy. His mind is filled with thoughts of the other, Jungkook’s glistening skin, the soft flesh of his cheeks that contrast to the sharpness to his brow and jaw. Jungkook stars in all of Jimin’s dreams. When Jimin wakes up from yet another one he instantly reaches for his phone to text his best friend Taehyung about it.

jm: you know the guy who bought the smoothie yesterday?

tae: haha yea ?

jm: i just had a fucking wet dream about him

tae: god jimin you need to get a grip

jm: how am i supposed to control dream me??? dream me is a bold little fucker

tae: maybe real life you needs to do something about that

Jimin leaves Taehyung on read, huffing to himself as he collapses back into his sheets. Jimin usually ignores Taehyung’s antics, the other always has these grandiose ideas of romance and what Jimin’s so-called-sex-life should entail. Jimin typically doesn’t live up to the standard—at least while he’s sober.

And not even going to work can distract Jimin’s thoughts from finding their way to Jungkook. Because Jungkook could walk in at any second, and Jimin’s heart can’t prepare itself to handle that. Jimin is working his typical one to nine shift, however, it’s Thursday! This means a different gym schedule for Jungkook, one that consists of coming in around one thirty pm, not specifically to ruin Jimin’s entire day, but that is definitely achieved.

In walks Jungkook. Jimin wants to throw himself into his blender and swirl away to a different dimension. He might just have a heart attack.

Jungkook is on the phone and laughing, strolling through the double doors, still unaware of how much hatred from the staff is directed towards him, and how much fucking lust is emanating from Park Jimin. Jungkook is clad in a new set of workout clothes, gray sweats replacing yesterday’s basketball shorts, and a tight fitting black tank top instead of a loose white t-shirt. The change is very accepted though, in how the tank is tight to Jungkook’s skin, accentuating the broadness of his exposed shoulders as they lead down to his small waist. Jimin doesn’t even notice that he’s licking his lips but he is and god he can’t bring himself to look away.

Jungkook chooses a random chest press machine, close enough to the smoothie shop that he’s within hearing distance of Jimin. Jimin presumes the other doesn’t pay notice to this proximity though, Jungkook seems to be only focused on starting his workout with a simple warm up beside the machine; stretching, and then progressing into a little burst of cardio. Already loud grunts escape him with each jump lunge, and then a whine—that might as well be labeled as a moan—when he finally takes to the machine. Each elongation of his arms with the weight generates an onslaught of sharp little noises that echo and sing their way from Jungkook’s mouth to Jimin’s pierced ear.

Oh. Oh. He’s the guy. Jungkook is the “guy.” The one everyone hates. Go figure.

Jimin can’t decide if he wants to spontaneously combust at the realization right where he’s standing, or run over to Jungkook and position himself between those spread legs of the dark-haired boy, being the one eliciting those moans.

Okay, Jimin thinks, I can handle this. This is fine!

He is very much not fine.

Luckily, Jimin is distracted from his thinking as a customer comes up to the counter. It’s a tall middle-aged man who massages the bridge of his nose with exhaustion.

“I’ll have the Raspberry blend,” He says simply, adding a polite smile despite his noticeable irritation.

Jimin nods with smile, he’s so relieved to be briefly distracted, “Ok! What size—”

“Man, it must be so annoying to work here, huh?”

Jimin is taken aback at the interruption of the order, guys who look like this don’t usually start a conversation with him. But no one else is in line behind him so Jimin isn’t too worried about exchanging some words before getting started on the order.

“What do you mean?”

The man shrugs with a laugh and quickly glances behind himself to the glass wall that showcases the people working out on the other side. “I’m only here sometimes, and at random times ‘cause my schedule is loose… anyway, I swear to God, every time I’m here that kid is also.”

Jimin at first doesn’t know which “kid” the guy is talking about, at first he thinks an annoying child is playing with the workout machines and disturbing the other adult’s workout routines or something. But the man looks behind himself yet again, this time he does a mild gesture to the particular boy he’s talking about, and Jimin’s eyes follow his stare to see Jungkook furiously doing a tricep workout through the glass.

“Oh!” is all Jimin can say, his voice light as he stumbles over the word.

The man turns back around to face Jimin, “It must be annoying to always be hearing that guy groan all day, must give you a headache.”

Jimin looks over the man’s shoulder to watch Jungkook for a split second, the muscles in the boy’s arms tensing and releasing as his noises are frequent. He can see how they’d be bothersome to the other gym-goers, especially other straight men. But gosh, the only thing Jimin can think of is: if he makes those kinds of noises while working out... the noises he’d make in other... scenarios... oh man.

Jimin manages to pull his attention back to the man in front of him, “I guess I’ve just gotten used to it by now.”

The man nods with a sympathetic little smile. He reaches for his wallet and drops a couple of one’s into Jimin’s tip jar with a wink. “Thanks for entertaining me.”

Jimin blushes and grabs an empty cup, “Ok, so, what size would you like?”

☕︎

The place lulls during the odd hours of afternoon, Jimin can’t remember what he used to do during these lulls. Now he uses these slow hours to lean his elbows against the counter, his cheek resting in his palm as his eyes follow the dark-haired boy as he makes his rounds to the different machines. Jungkook’s breath is hitching, finally becoming erratic after nearly two hours of lifting and weight training. It’s taken him this long to become tired? That endurance… he must last a long time… during his workouts! He lasts a long time for workouts…

Within the haze of his thoughts, Jimin doesn’t notice that very boy his thoughts are revolving around approach the smoothie shop until the taller boy is peering down at Jimin, who’s perched on the counter. Jimin really can’t get away with anything.

“Uh… hi?” Jungkook says, a light laugh with the words.

Jimin shuffles to stand up fully, his back aching from leaning for so long. He’s once again staring into Jungkook’s eyes.

“Is the chocolate protein shake good?”

“It’s really good,” Jimin practically chokes out.

Jungkook peers at Jimin with a slight raise of his brow, but doesn’t question Jimin’s words. “Ok cool, I’ll get that in a medium…” Jungkook pauses, looking to Jimin’s apron, “Jimin."

Jimin’s heart stutters with hearing his own name emerge from the dark-haired boy’s lips, he wasn’t prepared for that and his entire dialogue is interrupted. He’s back on that Jungkook bullshit again, desperately wanting to reach out and graze his hand over the boy’s skin, it’s emanating warmth; the sweat hasn’t cooled Jungkook’s skin yet, he’s flushed all over in bursts of pink across the skin that’s displayed. Jimin is whipped. That reminds him:

“Any whip?”

Jungkook chuckles, “I’m still recovering from my banana milk dairy overdose.”

“Right!”

“Yeah.”

That’s splendid. Jimin wants to make a cold protein shake, pour it on the floor and lay down in it until he turns into a little chocolate popsicle to no longer exist as part of the human race. It’s not too horrible he forget this specific request for no whip, but in front of Jungkook, he feels the pressure to be completely calm and collected—despite how opposite that is of himself.

“I’ll get that going for you then…” he says in a rush before hurrying off to once again find salvation behind the assortment of industrial blenders.

☕︎

The next day it’s a banana shake with oat milk.

“I had to go back to my fave,” Jungkook laughs, looking especially pleased as he takes a sip.

☕︎

The day after that it’s a gross spinach combo, somehow ginger and orange juice end up together, Jimin’s nose scrunches with disgust as he pours it all into Jungkook’s to-go cup, the “JK” on the label starting to become clearer as Jimin’s nerves around the other boy subside.

☕︎

Finally it’s his day off. Though the nerves may have begun to subside, his thoughts of Jungkook only become more prominent. Day after day the boy’s face is further ingrained to Jimin’s mind. The different bits of skin that are exposed in his different exercise clothes, the different ways his wet hair can be parted, swept back or plastered to his forehead, cascading across his flushed cheeks or tucked behind his pierced ears.

jm: i might be obsessed

tae: i knew jimin wasn’t impervious to boys!!!

jm: i can’t stop thinking about him tae

it’s so bad

idk what to do

tae: kiss!kiss!kiss!kiss!

jm: and then we’ll ride off into the sunset on our unicorn ??

tae: i think you underestimate how much of a bad bitch you are jimin

jm: bad bitches don’t need no mans

tae: … i think this one does ^

☕︎

The next day Jungkook orders strawberry mango.

Jimin definitely isn’t much of a bad bitch when it comes to watching Jungkook’s lips mold around the straw and take in his first sip.

His breath must taste of it; of that stupid strawberry mango smoothie. When kissed his lips probably give in, as easy as biting into soft fruit. Maybe they’d emit a soft whine from the roughness, but ultimately be swayed with a sweet breath escaping. His tongue might be citrus, maybe sharp in its sourness; but Jimin wouldn’t be able to pull away, sucked in by Jungkook in how one sucks from a smoothie straw.

☕︎

It increases, Jungkook now gets a smoothie before and after his workout. Some kind of apple and oatmeal concoction going in and a peanut butter mocha after. Jimin begins to worry for this boy’s stomach but he still eats up the time he has with the other while he places order after order, and their fingers always brush when he retrieves his drink.

“God, my bank account is suffering,” Jungkook mumbles while sliding his card over to Jimin.

Jimin flashes his bright smile, a smile that’s rarely seen in normal customer service. It slips across his face easily with Jungkook though.

☕︎

Another day.

☕︎

And another. A kid Jungkook’s age shouldn’t be allowed to have this kind of influence on Jimin’s mental sanity.

☕︎

Jungkook must not know how to chew or something, Jimin thinks during yet another shift at the smoothie shop, but I’m so god damn lucky this boy doesn’t know how to chew. He hardly hears Jungkook approaching him, but it’s now a familiar sight to the shorter boy, it doesn’t make him completely lose his mind. But he can’t stop himself from letting his eyes travel up and down Jungkook’s body to just make sure this is real life.

☕︎

“We need to make a punch card just for you, Kookie,” Jimin says, a solid month into Jungkook’s frequent smoothie orders. Jimin tests the waters with muttering Jungkook’s nickname under his breath in addition to the statement. Jungkook isn’t phased, per usual.

“And a longer menu, I think I just ran out of new stuff to order,” he replies, his eyes desperately scouring the menu.

“Do you still want something?” Jimin asks, his voice so sweet, curling at the end to accentuate the question.

Jungkook looks from the menu back to Jimin’s face. “Any suggestions?”

“I always go back to the matcha frappe, that’s what I told you to order on the first day,” he answers in a coo. The first day. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that, it implies he noticed when the first day was. But… he did. So maybe that isn’t so bad to notice.

Jungkook’s eyes flash a little sparkle before he ducks his head down with a laugh, his hair falling in front of his face to block Jimin from reading his expression. When Jungkook’s head perks back up he’s regained his composure, only a little smirk still held at his lips. Though not much, this is still some of the most emoting Jimin has received from Jungkook yet. Either the boy is shy or just hard to please, either way, the sight makes Jimin’s insides warm, buzzing like a faulty car going up a steep hill.

“Sounds good, I’ll do that.”

Jimin gulps with a nod.

Do it? He means have it right?

Maybe he should just get a new job so all of his senses aren’t attacked every time Jungkook slips up with his words.

☕︎

“Jimin, hey, are you even paying attention?” Jimin’s dance instructor Hoseok snaps. Jimin shakes his head trying to rid himself of his random thoughts, his vision returning to him as the other student’s heads all turn to look at him.

“Sorry sorry!” Jimin exclaims, realigning his feet to the proper position to continue. Hoseok’s face is still strained with disappointment but he turns back to the mirror to resume teaching the choreography. This is so unlike Jimin, he’s usually the star pupil, he usually is way ahead of everyone else, practicing any chance he gets after work or on his weekends, before and after practice. Now he’s reduced to a little floating orb of light that can only comprehend thinking Jungkook is hot, Jungkook is hot, Jungkook is hot, on repeat.

“You’ve been out of it the last couple of classes,” Hoseok says after practice. Though Hoseok is a bit older, and bit more experienced than Jimin, they’ve been dance buddies for years. Hoseok gets fed up easily, snapping frequently, but the second class is over his face returns to the usual peppy expression that’s held to his features.

Jimin sighs, swiping the few droplets of sweat away from above his lip. “Yeah I’m good, just boy troubles and stuff, y’know.”

Hoseok laughs, sitting down on the floor and Jimin follows suit.

“I can relate. Do I know this boy?” Hoseok says, his tone mirroring a parent.

“Nah, I don’t think so. He’s just a regular at my gym and he’s obsessed with smoothies.”

“Sounds cute,” Hoseok laughs again.

Jimin can’t even explain how cute it all is. “I think he’s ordered a smoothie from me every day I’ve worked for the last like… month.”

“I don’t know if anyone likes smoothies that much” Hoseok says, “He might just like you.”

Jimin is taken aback, his face contorted in concentrated thought, “Wait… what?”

Hoseok pauses for a moment, waiting for a comedic pause, but there is none, Jimin just stares back at him, dumbfounded.

“Jimin, oh my god, dude, it’s obvious that he’s only buying that many smoothies to see you every day.”

Jimin still can’t process what Hoseok is implying. His eyes are wide and mouth held slightly open in an “o” shape. Is he really that dense? Whenever he’s brought Jungkook up to Taehyung he’d thought it was a one-sided crush… something funny to talk and daydream about, but now…

“I know you can be hard on yourself and think no one likes you Jiminie…”

Jimin interrupts him with a scoff, “Aishhhh, Hoseok!”

Hoseok rolls his eyes with a smile, “Jimin, let me finish. I have to break it to you, I think a lot of guys probably really really like you. This smoothie guy is probably of that category. You just never pick up the signals!”

“I—…” Jimin can’t help but laugh, “I can’t comprehend this entire conversation.”

Hoseok nudges the other boy’s shoulder, “Maybe he’s just waiting for you to write down your number on his smoothie cup.”

Jimin internally curses himself out. Despite how idealistic all of this sounds… Hoseok might be right.

“Honestly, I think you’re giving him too much credit,” Jimin sighs, exasperated as he leans back until laying entirely on the hardwood floor. Hoseok follows suit, resting his head so their hair overlaps on the ground.

“Who’s gonna be the dick to hit on someone at their job? Maybe he’s just being polite to make sure you actually like him back.”

Like him back? Can this be real life? Here Jimin has been pining over Jungkook possibly acknowledging his existence, and Hoseok suggests Jungkook’s been the one trying not to overstep Jimin’s boundaries?

Hoseok interrupts Jimin’s intense train of thought, “Can I at least see a pic of him?” he asks.

Jimin is glad his thoughts are cut off and the conversation slightly switches subject. He reaches into his pocket to fish out his phone, pulling up Jungkook’s Instagram (which he’s been stalking ever since he found it, about two weeks ago). He hands his phone over to Hoseok, who grabs it eagerly. There’s a brief pause, Hoseok scrolling through the photos on Jungkook’s page until pulling up a specific one of Jungkook while working out. It’s not in the same gym where Jimin works though.

“I think your smoothie boy needs to lay off the protein shakes,” he says while pinching the screen to zoom in on Jungkook’s bulging biceps and perked chest. Jimin watches, a little fear in his stomach while Hoseok’s fingers manhandle the screen.

And then.

“Oh fuck, ah god, I’m sorry Jiminie,” Hoseok exclaims. Jimin’s stomach drops, seeing that Hoseok accidentally liked Jungkook’s photo.

“How far back is it…” Jimin says quietly, his breath hitching.

“… it’s from 2018.”

“Fuck.”

Hoseok slowly passes Jimin’s phone back to him, Jimin’s face colorless and his body splayed out across the floor like a broken doll as he accepts his phone from Hoseok. He wants to fucking delete his entire Instagram account, and then the app, and then dump his phone into the ocean. But all he can manage to do is stuff his phone back into his pocket and push away the image of Jungkook receiving the notification from his mind.

The boys lay there in an awkward silence for a few moments.

“You definitely have to give him your number now,” Hoseok says.

☕︎

Jimin grants himself a few more days before trying to make any moves. He lets himself pay more notice to how Jungkook orders, how Jungkook’s eyes graze over his frame, how maybe the other’s breath doesn’t hitch from the workout, but rather in reaction to when Jimin will smile, or when his words are particularly soft. Jimin lets Jungkook continue to drain his bank account on smoothies, trying out every smoothie option on the menu, or combining new flavors to create cursed protein shakes.

One day Jungkook says, “Just surprise me.”

On another he almost spits out his drink when he first tastes it, “Is this really orange-pineapple?”

Jimin’s eyes dart around, “Well, yes, but you said to add the kale chips and get rid of the banana, and sub it with greek yogurt.”

“I really said that?” Jungkook says, shaking his head with a laugh while trying not to purse his lips on the second sip. He’s hardly successful.

“Ah, Jungkook, aren’t I your hyung?” Jimin presumes.

Jungkook smiles despite still holding the sour liquid within his mouth, “I don’t know, maybe.”

“I’m twenty four,” Jimin says, smirking as Jungkook playfully shoots his eyes around the room.

“I’m twenty two…” The younger mumbles.

“Ah,” Jimin says, “Then as your hyung I’m pretty sure that’s what you said.” This is a new level of sass from Jimin, but he doesn’t doubt himself as Jungkook flushes and can’t meet his eye contact.

“I think I’m delirious, Jiminie,” Jungkook laughs, Jimin’s nickname slips easily from the other’s lips, but Jungkook doesn’t pause to reconsider it, he’s almost out the door by the time it registers in Jimin’s brain. Jungkook’s voice, the little word, Jiminie.

Before Jungkook is completely gone he turns back, halting his speed, “Please don’t let me create my own drink again tomorrow, I really can’t be trusted, hyung.”

“Tomorrow,” “Hyung.”

Even if Jungkook hadn’t said, “Tomorrow,” Jimin would have still presumed that Jungkook would be back again tomorrow, as he is everyday; but to hear Jungkook actually acknowledge it, to reconfirm it, the word sinks into his skin and makes his body feel wobbly. Jungkook is gone before Jimin can respond. He’s always gone so fast, smoothie jostling with the speed, “hyung” left heavy in the air.

Jimin’s phone dings and he fishes it from his apron discreetly, a text from Hoseok appears.

jh: Jimin! I am going to intervene as your little guardian angel and declare you make your move with the smoothie boy tomorrow

Hoseok’s timing is annoyingly on point.

Jimin whispers to himself, “tomorrow.” It’s all becoming so real to him. The word lingering from Jungkook’s mouth to repeatedly echo in Jimin’s mind, the word on display across his bright phone screen. He doesn’t have much of a choice to avoid it any longer, with “guardian angel” Hoseok getting involved and all. Despite how all his limbs seem to tingle and his mind fogs up as if filled with tv static, tomorrow is better than never.

☕︎

The tomorrow in which Jungkook and Hoseok were referring comes too quickly for Jimin’s liking. It’s Jimin’s normal shift today of one to nine pm, and for a few hours he can busy himself with an onslaught of customers and Namjoon breathing down his neck on occasion. It’s not until seven pm rolls around that Jungkook marches through the gym’s double doors. Now that Jungkook is here and that means Jimin will actually have to follow through with making his move, all Jimin wants is to recoil into his skin and simply become invisible. He especially wants to be invisible due to how his eyes can’t stop staring at Jungkook. The dark-haired boy is wearing an all gray puma tracksuit, the top rolled up at the sleeves, the bottoms loose on his legs but tight at his hips. Jimin prays Jungkook doesn’t toss a glance over to him because he swears he’s melting where he’s standing. If it weren’t for his taught apron tugging at the small of his waist he believes he’d be a puddle by now. Luckily, Jungkook is lazily scrolling his phone like usual, his brow flexed and mouth in a pout until he laughs and double-taps the screen. He’s a simple boy and Jimin eats it up.

But Jimin does wonder why he was so late today, Jungkook is more of a morning workout person (well unless that’s not when Jimin is working), if not, then he’s an afternoon person at least. Jimin tries not to dwell on it, busying himself with scrubbing the blenders and pre-chopping some vegetables. Then the noises start to pick up. When they do, other gym-goers instantly make their way to the exit doors, making sure to send a stabbing glare to Jungkook’s direction before marching off. Jungkook is busying himself on the rowing machine, paying no attention.

Jungkook’s two-hour workout feels especially long tonight, Jimin can’t find anything to do with himself while fewer and fewer customers come in every hour, the gym doesn’t even slow down but who’s buying a smoothie at eight pm? Well, certainly no one in this fucking gym.

Jimin wants to run in little circles as his fear tingles up into his chest. With each passing minute he becomes more antsy and easily startled. He needs to focus on his breathing, controlling it and slowing it down. He stands still, with his eyes shut, and works on taking in a full deep breath, and then letting it out slowly.

Of course this is when Jungkook decides he’s done for the night. He strolls in with his usual languid demeanor to find Jimin quietly huffing and puffing to himself in the far corner of the shop.

Jungkook clears his throat.

Jimin nearly topples over at the interruption, definitely ruining all of his attempts at controlling his heart rate. It’s soaring through the roof as he slowly makes his way out of his corner and closer to Jungkook.

“It’s not too late to order… right?” Jungkook says, his voice dripping. Maybe it is the night time that makes his voice sound deeper and more powerful, or maybe it’s Jimin’s mind being dosed in copious amounts of oxygen.

Jimin glances to the overhead clock, eight fifty-five. He’s off in five minutes.

“No, you’re good,” Jimin says in a burst.

“Cool. Can I have the matcha frappe please?”

“Isn’t this your third time?” Jimin exclaims with a laugh, regaining his composure.

“Hey, third times a charm,” Jungkook says, raising up his hands with a shrug. “And I’m starting to be fond of the coconut milk.”

Jimin can’t muster a response, only nodding and gesturing for Jungkook’s card. Jungkook grabs it from his wallet and hands it over, but Jimin tries to grab it too early, his fingers cascading over Jungkook’s and jumping away at the touch. The card falls to the counter and they both stare at it, neither raising their gaze to the other. Jimin, in a tizzy, finally grabs for it and hastily slides it through the system.

“I’ll have it out for you real soon,” Jimin says, his voice hushed as he hands Jungkook’s card back to him.

“Thank you, Jimin,” Jungkook says. His voice is deep and he doesn’t hesitate a syllable, it’s all purposeful, but his expression shows otherwise, of a little boy trying to run away from his words. He grabs his card and scurries off to one of the stools to wait, his body slouching over and his loose clothing hiding most of his frame.

This is Jimin’s chance, he quickly blends the tea and ice, but before he pours it into the cup he writes on the label. While Jungkook is relaxed and on his phone like any other day, Jimin feels like he’s spinning counter-clockwise on a foreign planet. A planet where his knees want to give way because gravity pulls at them too harshly. He double-checks the label, the scribbling is legible enough, and the drink’s condensation hasn’t completely soaked through the paper to have it curled and wrinkled on itself. It’ll do. It’s the best he can do.

Jimin’s heart might not actually be beating as he sets the drink at the end of the counter, spinning it so the label is on full display to Jungkook. Either his heart isn’t beating at all, or it’s beating at the speed of a hummingbird, far faster than Jimin can even process. All he can do is stand there awkwardly, his fingers intertwined and his chest heaving in little bursts.

Jungkook is nonchalant as he approaches the counter, his breathing far more controlled than Jimin’s despite being the one who just recently finished up an intense workout. For a second it seems Jungkook doesn’t pay notice to the label, Jimin backs away, preparing to not say a single word about it and let the other leave. But then Jungkook’s hand slides along the cup and he does a double-take, noticing all of the extra writing. Jimin is completely still, eyes trying to find anything else to focus on besides Jungkook, and yet they are plastered to him, unable to look away as the other reads the cup.

“would u teach me how to lift? i’m free after 9” The label reads.

Jungkook looks up from the label to look at Jimin, then his head turns to the clock: nine o’ one pm. Jimin’s heart is fluttering so much he thinks he might take flight.

“You’re free?” is all Jungkook asks, a small smile growing across his face.

“Mhm,” Jimin answers, his voice tiny.

This whole “tomorrow” thing turns out to be really working in Jimin’s favor.

☕︎

Oh so Jungkook is actually set on teaching him how to lift…ok.

“You can start with just the bar, it’s about forty pounds, so it’ll give you a good idea of where you’re at.”

Jimin’s wide eyes are trained on watching Jungkook explain this all to him, while he has his experience in dance he’s never been too fond of weightlifting or muscle building. Jungkook, on the other hand, is avidly displaying the angles at which hands and arms and feet should be when lifting. Jimin just likes to hear the other’s voice for such longer bursts than the usual smoothie order, so he lets the younger boy drawl on excitedly.

“Ok, so, you got all that?”

He definitely got none of it but he gives Jungkook an exuberant nod to please the other. He takes his turn under the bar, first positioning his feet for a wide squat and then his hands grab the textured part of the bar indicating where to hold. Jungkook’s eyes are all over him, maybe contemplating his form, or just to take him in. Under the gaze Jimin feels light and airy, his blinking erratic as he looks back at himself in the mirror.

“Your form is really good,” Jungkook says quietly, “Are you ready to try it out?”

“M’yeah,” Jimin answers, swaying slightly in anticipation. He slowly bends slightly down to dislodge the bar from where it’s held, holding it on his shoulders. Forty pounds is a lot heavier than Jimin thought it would be, it presses into his skin and he shuffles under the weight, trying to remain in position to do the squat.

“Woah, woah, is this good, are you ok?” Jungkook says, reaching out for Jimin, his hands curling around Jimin’s waist. Jimin freezes from the contact, the bar no longer wiggling in his hold, his legs no longer shaking. The touch of Jungkook both exhilarates him and stables him. Jimin’s head slowly turns to Jungkook, the bar pressing at an awkward angle but he ignores it.

“I’ll just help you with this first one,” Jungkook says, his voice resembling more of a whisper than a normal volume. His hands don’t leave Jimin’s waist, instead they curl tighter, urging the other to begin his descent. Jimin lets his body ease into the squat, focusing on the strain to his thighs, the weight at his shoulders, the tension to his back, his soft face contorted into seriousness. Jungkook moves with him, squatting behind him to showcase the movement to it. Jimin pauses, holding the squat, “This is the right form?”

Jungkook releases his hold on Jimin to walk around and view him from the side. Jungkook’s touch so quickly leaving makes Jimin realize just how desperate he’s been all this time to be held. He wants to whine with the loss of contact, but manages to control his face to remain neutral. Jungkook evaluates him for a moment, his eyes trailing down the other’s slightly arched back and thighs that threaten to quake. Jungkook reaches out to him and traces along Jimin’s flexed forearms, up to his rounded bicep and further until his fingers meet with the cold metal along Jimin’s neck. The slight graze alights Jimin’s skin, the subtleness to it, and yet so tender. Where Jungkook touched there are surges of heat.

“You’re perfect—… I mean, your form is perfect,” Jungkook says quickly, his face losing some of its composure. Jimin smiles to himself, his face hidden behind his bangs as he raises himself back up to standing. Maybe Jungkook had been just waiting for an invitation from Jimin, a scrawled proclamation of what they both kept meaning to say.

Jimin puts the bar back into place, stretching out his muscles with a sigh. “Well, that was a good first day of lifting, lots of hard work and many hours put in.”

Jungkook laughs, extending his arm for a fist bump.

A fist bump. Really? Jimin wants to throw himself under all the dumbbells and be crushed to death. He returns the fist bump, begrudgingly though, and offers a pathetic little smile.

“Do you work tomorrow?” Jungkook asks.

Jimin steps away from the entire metal contraption and sits on the bench beside it, eyeing up Jungkook who stands before him.

“I do,” he answers.

“Do you want to try a different workout after your shift?” Jungkook has a hard time meeting Jimin’s gaze, his eyes focused on the floor, watching his feet scuff across the tile.

“I’m not actually that interested in getting into weight lifting, it’s not really my forte…” Jimin mumbles. He’s scared Jungkook is truly thinking that his little smoothie cup label was a legitimate request for a personal trainer of sorts. Jimin feels like such the idiot and just wants to remove himself from the entire scenario and go to bed.

“Ah, really Jimin? I was hoping I could stop spending money on smoothies to see you…”

The words cut into Jimin and he turns to Jungkook in alarm, Jungkook yet again hides from Jimin’s stare, shuffling his feet and pretending to pick at his fingernails. Jimin is at a loss for words, his tongue feeling dry and his lips opening and closing trying to find a noise to emerge from them.

“To s-see me?” He finally manages to stutter out.

Jungkook laughs sitting down on the bench, but still a good three feet between them. The distance feels thick and obvious, Jimin wishing he were bolder to scoot closer but remaining planted exactly where he’d sat down.

“Didn’t you ask me to teach you how to lift so you could see me?” Jungkook retorts.

“Well—” Jimin wants to continue but Jungkook’s hand slides across the bench and Jimin pays too much attention to it to finish his comeback. Jungkook’s hand sits between them, idle, the boy calculating Jimin’s response. Jimin’s face doesn’t convey too much, mostly shock, but then his eyes glaze over as they raise to look back at Jungkook. Jungkook closes the gap and his hand skates over Jimin’s. Jungkook’s palm is rougher than Jimin’s soft skin, probably worn out from all the weights constantly in his grasp. Jimin can’t do much of anything, just watching as Jungkook’s larger hand rests on his own, at ease. It’s a soft sensation, of mild touch, of minor contact, but it still creates a flare of heat within Jimin’s small frame, his cheeks flushing and eyes darting about. It’s hectic and strange and Jungkook’s touch is still so foreign… but so welcomed.

“I don’t think my account or my stomach can handle many more smoothies Jiminie.”

Jimin bites his lip and his wrist twists so that his fingers intertwine around Jungkook. Their breathing is hushed and slow, Jungkook’s fingers react willingly to fully hold Jimin’s hand. Jimin isn’t familiar with being so forward, so bold, it all feels sudden but he likes it.

“I don’t think I can handle watching you drink any more godawful smoothies, Jungoo,” he finally replies, gaging Jungkook’s reaction. Jungkook hums, a smile forming that’s brighter than any of his previous smiles.

“I’m glad we can agree on that.”

☕︎

Jimin isn’t mad when the next day comes about quickly. Though a tension is still in his stomach it is more promising. It’s his first day of work without one specific boy coming by to order a smoothie early into Jimin’s shift. Jimin misses the interaction, while before it had plagued him and sent shivers down his spine, now he craves the feeling. His demeanor perks up when Jungkook shows up two hours before his shift ends; the evening light is behind Jungkook, the slight semblance of golden hour surrounding his shoulders. It’s a heavenly image, the boy moves nearly in slow motion, the lighting displays the outline of all Jungkook’s fly away hairs in contrast to his dark silhouette. The gym’s speakers have some random pop song blaring on in the background, but Jungkook deserves a much cooler soundtrack to accompany his runway style walk.

Usually, Jungkook doesn’t shift his attention over to Jimin when he first comes in, he usually seems focused on getting started with his workout, AirPods in and gaze trained to his phone or already focused to what machine he’s planning to use. Today, Jungkook’s head turns to Jimin standing behind his little counter. Jungkook smiles, it isn’t strained, it isn’t a second thought, it comes easily and doesn’t fade for a while. Jimin stands stiff and expressionless until he raises his hand up do give Jungkook a little wave. Jungkook laughs then, waving back before wandering off to the far wing of the gym, out of Jimin’s view.

☕︎

Jimin cleans up the shop in a hurry as the clock ticks down to nine, he scrubs furiously at the strawberry stains and tries to control his hand as it writes the new specials down in cursive. Namjoon is hovering somewhere nearby, finally emerging from his little side office to as well prepare for closing.

“That loud kid didn’t come by for a smoothie today,” Namjoon says, Jimin spins to face his boss. “I hope that doesn’t continue, he’s loud but he’s good for business.”

Jimin smiles, but he knows he can’t make any promises on Jungkook’s behalf—or Jungkook’s dad for that matter, thinking of how drained his income must be funding Jungkook’s devious endeavors.

☕︎

Jungkook is leaning against the open door frame of the smoothie shop when it finally reaches nine. Jimin rushes to him, giddy like a child approaching a large display of candy. Jungkook’s eyes do a once over across Jimin’s body, the loose shirt Jimin is wearing under his apron today, his black skinny jeans to abide by the dress code. Jungkook takes in the other’s appearance like he’s grammy awards ready, clad in a tailored designer suit.

“Hi,” Jungkook says, the word dropping his mouth amidst a harsh exhale. Jimin presumes it to be due to his workout, unaware of how flustered the other really is.

“Hi,” he answers.

It shouldn’t feel this easy, to ignore the fear that coils within his stomach, to not mind his messed up breathing pattern, but it is easy. They walk beside each other like they’ve walked with each other for years. It’s never been like this for Jimin before, giving into his feelings, to follow through with them, maybe this is how his friends who’ve been in more serious relationships have felt this whole time. Like it should be easy. And all of a sudden, Jimin can understand.

Jungkook leads them to a corner where a lot of elliptical machines are lined up.

“To warm up,” Jungkook says. Jimin isn’t so fearful of this machine, he’s more familiar with cardio workouts and hops on without hesitation.

“Wanna do a mile?” Jimin asks, and Jungkook looks at him with an excited smile. Jimin likes that the other is competitive, matching his pace, matching his form, their legs moving in unison. Jungkook is so… obliging, so friendly, it seems like a lot of the walls he originally put up have been broken, revealing an energetic twenty-something-year-old with a smile always waiting to form.

They both come to a stop at the same time when they reach a mile, Jungkook’s beyond sweaty now, and Jimin feels a slight dampness at his forehead. They hurriedly get off the machines, and Jungkook notices Jimin’s slight glaze of sweat. He approaches Jimin, his gaze soft and eyes trained to the other’s flushed skin and little airy breaths. Jungkook hasn’t seen Jimin look like this before, he’s usually so composed within the smoothie shop, while Jungkook is the one to always look wrecked. He slowly brings up the back of his hand and it glides across Jimin’s forehead.

“There you go,” Jungkook says, his hand withdrawing from Jimin’s skin. The graze doesn’t help cool off Jimin’s skin, it only flares a heat across his face. And Jungkook’s words snap something in Jimin, something switches. The subtleness to the gesture, the softness of his touch along Jimin’s skin. “There you go,” because Jungkook wants to make sure Jimin feels comfortable. Jimin feels his breathing surge, much like a swelling tide, he feels like his heartbeat is at the back of his throat. Without a second thought, without letting his mind overwhelm him or the sight of Jungkook intimidate him, he lets himself lean closer and fill the gap between them. His hands clasp to Jungkook’s face, pulling the other to meet his kiss. For a moment, Jungkook is still, his eyes wide and his body frozen. Jimin becomes alarmed and pulls away, their lips only a few inches apart and Jimin’s eyes glazed over.

“Can I kiss you?” Jimin asks, regretting not asking before and hoping he didn’t ruin everything. At first, Jungkook only stares blankly, and then with a sheepish smile and his eyes slowly glossing over as well, he nods.

“Yes… yes.”

Jungkook initiates it this time, with his head tilting closer so his soft mouth can take in Jimin’s bottom lip, sucking it in and swallowing the slight noise that escapes from Jimin. Jungkook really does taste sweet, and his tongue soon curls into the kiss, swirling within Jimin’s mouth like strawberries clashing with oranges. It’s enveloping and it finally quiets some part of Jimin’s mind he didn’t know existed. Their hands are scattered across each other, tugging to pull clothing closer, brushing over the soft flesh of shoulders or cheekbones.

It’s nearly perfect, except for the setting could have been more idealistic. The ellipticals surrounding them, and whatever the gym is playing over the speakers, is a little out of place for their dramatic first kiss. But it makes Jimin feel more comfortable; it feels familiar, he knows this side of Jungkook, the side that will drain his account to kiss Jimin, and never wear anything besides workout clothes.

☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎

Chapter Management

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Chapter 2: banana milk

Notes:

So... here's all the smut I promised... along with the fluff I also promised

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The first time Jimin sees Jungkook in normal clothes is on their first date. He hops into Jungkook’s car and for a moment is slightly taken aback to see the boy in all black streetwear: black t-shirt, black pants and black sneakers. It’s almost intimidating, with Jungkook’s piercings catching the light and his hair actually somewhat styled to contrast how wet and disheveled it usually is. Jimin looks much softer in comparison, wearing a white button-down and blue jeans, his bangs brushing over his eyebrows.

“Is it eating time?” Jimin asks sweetly, turning in his seat to look at Jungkook who’s relaxed behind the wheel.

“Yes, finally some real food.”

“Noodles?”

Jungkook smiles, “Yes,” he murmurs past his grin.

Jimin feels his stomach leap in hunger and anticipation as they drive, Jungkook’s car is intense, its air conditioning blasts at Jimin until his hair is messed up beyond salvation. He doesn’t mind though, he leans back and lets himself relax, Jungkook turns on some random music that drowns out the road and traffic noises. Jungkook looks almost more in his element behind the wheel than he does at the gym—if that’s possible. Maybe he just pulls off every atmosphere. Jimin watches as the other boy shifts gears, merges into traffic, slowly lets his leg press onto the gas when they reach the freeway. Though his legs are concealed in black pants, Jimin can see how Jungkook’s muscles tense when he breaks or applies speed through a turn. It’s a cautious movement, controlled and calculated, Jungkook has a certain control to himself that gives off a confidence Jimin admires.

“You’re a good driver, Jungkook-ah,” Jimin says, eyeing the other tentatively. Jungkook flushes, his powerful demeanor shattering to expose how easily flustered he can become.

“Thank you hyung.”

Jimin’s words affect him in a specific way. Though they always come out light and sweet, he knows Jimin is careful with what he says. When he does speak it means something, and Jungkook can only shrug under the attention from the older boy.

☕︎

The noodles are gone quickly, with Jimin holding a pleased expression, licking his lips and pushing the empty bowl to the middle of the table.

“Did you eat well?” Jungkook asks, as well finishing off his dinner of lamb and rice.

Jimin nods, his smile not fading as he leans on his elbows to get closer to Jungkook’s side of the table. “And I’ll pay too, how does that sound?” He asks in a playful tone.

It’s an entirely new side to Jimin that comes out after he’s eaten well. His face plastered with a smirk as sweet as a strawberry, his eyes nearly shut in the contortion. Jungkook indulges in it, in the sight, in the words that coo from Jimin’s glossy lips. He plays up his intrigue in response, matching Jimin’s posture by resting his chin on his fist with his elbows digging into the table.

“My dad would certainly adore you for giving my bank account a rest.”

“Your dad?” Jimin laughs.

“And me too,” Jungkook says while he looks away, flustered, his stomach rumbling with digestion. Jimin’s entire being distracted him, his thoughts staggering off, ruining all chances at trying to find a witty comeback.

Jimin startles when his phone buzzes suddenly. He quickly retrieves it, smiling at Jungkook to excuse the interruption.

tae: how’s the date going stud

Jimin rolls his eyes.

Jungkook quirks a brow, “Who is it?”

“Just my friend Taehyung,” Jimin answers, shoving his phone away without responding.

“What’s he up to?”

“Just… y’know…” Jimin laughs as he trails off, his face flushing, “Checking in on us.”

Jungkook’s nose scrunches with his shy smile, “Making sure you’re still alive and I’m not a serial killer?”

Jimin scoffs, “More like… congratulating me on not being a pussy and actually going on a date with you.”

He can’t believe he actually says this. He tries to back away before the words escape him but they’re out before he can manage to shut his mouth. He doesn’t even mention the use of the word “stud” in Taehyung’s texts, the word just making Jimin want to laugh at his name even being compared to that of a stud.

Jungkook’s ears perk hearing Jimin’s words, leaning forward until the table presses into his abdomen. “Don’t people….want to take you out like allthe time?”

Jimin’s face turns perplexed, his eyes darting about like he’s on some hidden camera show getting pranked.

“What? Definitely not.”

Jungkook’s face turns from that of joking, to now more serious and questioning.

“I swear, a thousand guys have probably tried to flirt with you at the smoothie shop.”

Jimin pouts, his mind trying to make sense of everything Jungkook is saying. “I would seriously doubt that.”

“Jimin… do you not realize how pretty you are? And sweet? I’m not some smoothie maniac, I came to your shop everyday to hopefully make an impression on you amongst all the other guys who must flirt with you all the time.”

Jimin goes completely silent, his mouth agape and he feels how his face slowly turns bright red, the heat pulsing under his skin.

“I didn’t want to be just another guy who bombards you with gross flirting while you try to work, or push my number at you just to get blocked,” Jungkook’s eyes dart around the scenery of the restaurant, trying to find the right words, trying not to scare Jimin off, “I only bought so many smoothies ‘cause every time I’d go into that damned shop all my courage melted away when I saw your face.”

“Jungkook—” Jimin tries to find the right words to pull from his frazzled jumble of thoughts, he tries to reach his hands towards Jungkook’s but they feel like they’re made of lead.

“I’m… I’m really glad you wrote that note to me on my cup, I don’t think I would have ever had the guts.”

Jimin wants to melt, but finally in a good way. In a way not like a puddle to the ground, but instead, like thick honey, pouring over every surface as his body is enveloped in the warmth of Jungkook’s words, the other’s voice surrounding him and devouring until he only exists to be covered in the sound.

“I was really nervous,” Jimin finally says, sheepish, trying to hide his face from view—if only his bangs were longer.

Jungkook’s hands reach out and find Jimin’s, his fingers coiling around the other’s, and squeezing as his response.

“Tell Taehyung you’re the coolest, most bold and forward man I’ve ever met,” Jungkook jokes, but his eyes are warm with affection.

Jimin just bats away the praise but knows he’ll rant about all of this to Taehyung later.

☕︎

With Jimin and Jungkook now “dating,” (or “talking,” or whatever they are), they interact less often at the gym. Jungkook doesn’t try to fit his workouts into Jimin’s work schedule, his workouts only sometimes accidentally overlapping with Jimin’s shifts. On those spontaneous occasions Jimin blows a kiss or Jungkook comes up to the counter to exchange a few words if there isn’t a line. Namjoon eyes up Jungkook, waiting for the boy to make an order but Jungkook doesn’t—his bank account exhausted enough after his long month of a nearly entirely smoothie diet—this results in Namjoon shaking his head with disappointment and returning back to his little side office. It’s nice for them to operate on separate schedules, it allows Jimin to not feel so distracted all the time, he can think of other things besides Jungkook. That doesn’t mean he’s successful though, his “boyfriend,” or whatever they’re going to call it, still plasters himself all over Jimin's mind. At least Jungkook’s loud noises aren’t constantly disrupting Jimin from working.

After a movie one night Jungkook drops Jimin off at his apartment, the night’s warm summer air lingering in the space between them. It’s a Tuesday, but summer days don’t feel any different from each other, always warm and always holding promises for the night.

“When can I see you next?” Jungkook drawls, his words slow and heavy, as if Jimin isn’t listening.

“Ahh, I work late tomorrow… you don’t have to come by the gym a second time to pick me up since you like working out in the morning.”

“Day after tomorrow I have a really early morning test too aghhhh,” Jungkook sighs with an exasperated posture, “So I can’t stay out late tomorrow either…”

“So… maybe three days from now? Friday?” Jimin asks, his pitch dropping in his sadness. Jungkook quickly grabs the older’s chin, holding it tenderly to evaluate Jimin’s upset expression.

“Hey, we can FaceTime and text, and you know I’ll be thinking of you,” Jungkook says.

Jimin pouts, but Jungkook doesn’t tolerate it, to see Jimin sad. His fingers squish the soft skin of Jimin’s cheeks, bringing the other’s face closer to his. Jungkook’s breath hovers over Jimin’s lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

Since their first kiss they both enjoy asking the other before they kiss. It’s not that neither of them are willing, they both desperately look forward to kissing each other, but it’s something about the wait, the pause before the touch.

Jimin’s eyes flutter shut, and he doesn’t need to say anything, leaning in to reach Jungkook’s lips that engulf his. It’s breathy and slow, it tastes like movie popcorn, and it never lasts long enough for their fill.

“Okay…” Jimin sighs. His fingers crave to reach out and pull Jungkook closer to him again, despite the heat in the air he craves the warmth of the other. He lets Jungkook leave though, waiting at his door to catch how Jungkook always turns back to give one last glance to Jimin before actually leaving. It’s a little thing, but in its simplicity, it satisfies Jimin’s heart.

☕︎

His fucking coworker’s dog gets the flu again. Maybe she just needs to get a different dog, Jimin thinks, begrudgingly, as he walks into the smoothie shop at six-in-the-fucking-am. He’s so sleep-deprived and angry he forgets entirely of Jungkook’s frequent morning workouts. So when Jungkook walks into the gym—three hours into Jimin’s shift— at a crisp nine o’clock, Jimin is quite taken aback. Jungkook doesn’t even notice Jimin behind the counter, not expecting Jimin to be working right now (Jimin wishes he wasn’t working). Jungkook is wearing a large hoodie that blocks most of his peripheral vision, his head bent down as he focuses on his rapid texting. While Jungkook walks right past Jimin’s shop, Jimin’s phone buzzes.

jk <3: missing u Minnie, wishing i could see ur face :(((

Jimin wants to audibly laugh, looking up from his screen to see Jungkook’s little hooded head give his phone a satisfied nod before walking off out of sight. Jimin smiles to himself, texting back.

jm: can’t wait to see u <33333

If only Jungkook knew.

☕︎

Two hours later Jimin can hear that Jungkook is almost done with his workout. From quite far into the gym Jungkook’s low noises increase in loudness and sound more and more strained. Jimin looks to the clock, it’s only a few minutes into eleven am, he’s due for his lunch break right now, having already passed his fifth hour. Namjoon doesn’t really care when Jimin takes his lunch, or if he even takes one at all, but corporate forces him to mandate that all his employees do. Jimin turns his attention from the clock to see Namjoon standing behind him.

“Please go take your lunch,” the older says with a sigh, making sure to watch Jimin punch out before he takes his place at the counter.

Jimin smiles innocently at him as he walks out of the smoothie shop, “See you in forty-five minutes, hyung!” He coos, and Namjoon just rolls his eyes, but can’t help to smile in return.

Jimin glides along the gym’s tiled flooring, making his way down the different paths of gym equipment, past the ellipticals where he’d first kissed Jungkook, and further until he sees the younger walking into the locker room. Jimin follows light on his feet, his apron still tight at the small of his waist.

When Jimin enters the locker room behind the still unaware Jungkook, the place is quiet. It’s hard to make himself be quiet, though he’s usually delicate with his feet, his nerves get to him and he stumbles slightly. Jungkook’s head whips around and he rushes to Jimin with a look of pure surprise. His entire body is glazed with a sheen of sweat, the smell so intoxicatingly Jungkook. Jimin is overtaken by it and feels like he could swoon within the grasp of the other boy.

“Jimin!” Jungkook exclaims, his fingers instantly enjoying the feeling of holding the bare skin of Jimin’s arm. Jimin smiles, his hands as well wrapping around any part of Jungkook he can hold, every part feeling taught and hard after having just worked out.

“My schedule got changed,” is all Jimin can say before his patience wears thin. He doesn’t bother asking Jungkook if he can kiss him because as his head leans closer, Jungkook meets him in the middle without hesitation. Their kiss is heavier than any of the few they’ve shared before. It’s harsher, with their clash of teeth and frantic movements.

It’s a time of day when the gym’s occupancy lulls yet again (its far past when people work out before work, and not yet the time for people working out after work) an in-between time when everything echos and it feels like the entire room was meant for only Jimin and Jungkook.

Jungkook walks them backward, bringing their connected bodies farther into the empty locker room. Jungkook’s hands are greedy to hold more and more of Jimin, the pads of his fingers grazing over any skin that’s exposed, his legs in between Jimin’s to close any distance that still remains.

“The sauna,” Jimin says, his breathing uneven and a devious smile forming at the corners of his mouth. Jungkook’s own excitement escalates, Jimin’s boldness heightening the tension that rises between them.

“The sauna,” Jungkook reaffirms, only to be tugged by Jimin in its’ direction. Jungkook’s heart is racing, following behind Jimin, his sore thighs threatening to give out while Jimin is just starting to wake up for the day.

They enter the sauna carefully and quietly to make sure no old naked men are in it. It is empty, quiet except for the sound of the coals sizzling against water. The franticness is gone, Jimin is slow now, almost circling Jungkook in a predatory manner. Jungkook stands stiff and still, watching as Jimin unties his apron. And then his shirt is off too. Jungkook’s eyes feel low, maybe the heat is getting to him, or it could be Jimin.

It’s definitely Jimin.

Jimin approaches the younger in a manner unlike himself, his eyes grazing over every inch of Jungkook, swaying his hips and his fist tossing his t-shirt to one of the random wood benches.

“Jungkook…” Jimin says, his pitch is lower than Jungkook has ever heard it. Jimin leans closer and leaves a light kiss to the curve of Jungkook’s neck. The wetness of Jimin’s mouth is cold against Jungkook’s hot skin, sending a shiver rippling down his spine at the contact.

“Yes hyung…?” he manages to answer amidst the fog of lust that clouds his mind and chokes down the volume to his voice. It comes out as a whisper, and Jimin loves how much power he has over the younger. If the Jimin from a month ago could see him now…

“I want to make you feel good,” Jimin replies. Jungkook noticeably gulps, which only urges Jimin’s mouth to find its’ way to Jungkook’s throat. He nips at the supple flesh, then his tongue traces down the expanse, and back up again, to find its’ way to behind Jungkook’s ear, “I want to make you feel so good.”

Jungkook shudders, his frame pressed against the door, his body leaving an obvious silhouette against the foggy glass. He wants Jimin so bad, he wants Jimin to touch every part of him, he wants to feel his skin against his hyung’s, it’s all so much he can’t find the right words fast enough.

Jimin takes in Jungkook’s earlobe, nibbling at it, tugging at the younger’s piercing he has between his teeth.

“Do you want me to touch you Jungkook?”

The question is easy for Jungkook to answer, finally, he’s capable of a response, giving a hurried nod. His eyes are almost entirely shut, but he forces them to stay open to take in the sight of Jimin, to see how Jimin’s body leans against his, how his fingers slide down Jungkook’s chest only to stop to tug at his sweatpants’ strings.

“This is alright?” Jimin asks, holding onto Jungkook’s hips so the loose sweats don’t immediately slide off. A soft moan escapes Jungkook, his hands reaching out to brush through Jimin’s dampening hair.

“God yes.”

That is all Jimin needs. He makes quick work to let Jungkook’s sweats fall to his ankles, his underwear tight across his thick and muscled thighs. Jimin takes off Jungkook’s hoodie next, the younger’s hair tousled, already looking like sex hair. All of Jungkook’s skin is burning up, Jimin finds it intoxicating, heat emanating off the other as Jimin trails little cold kisses across his lover’s collarbones and shoulders. His breath along Jungkook’s skin is refreshing, smelling of the smoothie shop to contrast the smell of cedar all around them.

The smoothie shop, the smell makes Jungkook’s heart flutter, somehow the cute boy from the smoothie shop is kissing down his skin, still smelling of mangos and banana. How did he manage to end up here? What good deed of his landed him this kind of karma? His fingers curl tighter in Jimin’s hair, tugging the other to kiss him, just to make sure this is all real and actually happening to him. Jimin meets the kiss, hard, it’s definitely real, with the slight pain of the older biting at Jungkook’s bottom lip.

Jungkook’s low and broken moan echoes throughout the room.

Finally, the noise isn’t from working out, Jimin made that moan, and his confidence only grows seeing how wrecked Jungkook has already become. He wants to ruin Jungkook, to pull out every noise the boy could possibly make, he feels hungry in his desire.

“Come here,” Jimin says as he breaks the kiss, a string of saliva still connecting their lips.

“Mhm…” Jungkook says in a delirium as Jimin leads him to sit on one of the warm wood benches, his back leaning to rest on the benches behind him. He’s relieved to not have to stand anymore, he honestly thought his legs would give out in only a matter of time. Now his limbs are relaxed, he watches how Jimin’s eyes turn dark, only slivers of light flashing across the other’s irises from the embers each time they spark and crackle. Jungkook’s breathing is flighty and hitches, even more, when he watches Jimin descend to his knees in front of Jungkook’s spread legs.

It’s a sight, finally, Jimin’s hair isn’t well kept—to match that of Jungkook’s—it’s splayed across his face, hiding some of the sweetness that’s usually plastered to his face. He’s seductive now, inching towards Jungkook, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. And yet, even in this dark atmosphere, Jimin has a way about him, of being so sexy but still cute. In how his little shoulders wiggle as he crawls closer and closer, his cheeks are round and flushed. Jungkook is already too far gone to handle the scene in front of him, he lets his head lull back when he feels Jimin begin to scatter kisses up the inside of his thighs.

It’s a sight, Jungkook in front of Jimin, his legs nearly quivering with each kiss that nears closer and closer to his bulge. Jimin loves that Jungkook can’t contain himself, how his legs keep trying to spread wider and wider to give Jimin better access, how his throat bobs with each whimper that escapes him, how he can see Jungkook’s cock twitch within the restraints of his underwear. Jimin finally reaches his destination, Jungkook already completely hard despite no contact. Jimin makes sure to look up at Jungkook, securing their eye contact as his mouth begins to suck at the fabric. Jungkook can’t help but buck his hips from Jimin’s mouth suckling at him, he mewls as his eyes threaten to flutter completely shut.

“Eyes on me, Jungkook,” Jimin says. He’s set on watching how Jungkook reacts to his every touch. Jungkook bites at his lower lip, not able to do anything with himself as Jimin’s mouth slobbers over his concealed cock.

“I can taste you already, Jungoo…” Jimin says, his mouth kissing and then sucking in the clothed head that is leaking pre-cum. Jungkook practically barks when the heat from Jimin’s mouth surrounds his cock, the underwear rubbing at his sensitive skin.

“Please, Jiminie…” Jungkook says, voice already ruined, coming out low and gravely.

Jimin doesn’t want to make Jungkook beg, that isn’t his intent, he only wants to please Jungkook, show how good it can feel. Though Jimin has been shy around other boys all his life that doesn’t mean he hasn’t given his fair share of blowjobs. Random High School boyfriends, or the occasional college flings, were perfect chances for Jimin to master the skill. This is just the first time Jimin’s really wanted to take advantage of his skill to use it to the best of his ability. It would be hard to not want to please Jungkook, the younger’s eyes grow so wide and sparkle when he’s pleased. Jimin wants to see his face like this as often as he can.

Jimin slowly peels away the confining fabric from over Jungkook’s cock, Jungkook lets out a beautiful sigh when the air hits his hot flesh, watching as the underwear is dragged from his hips, down his thighs, until Jimin carefully slips Jungkook’s feet through the holes. He’s left in only his white t-shirt, that’s becoming see-through from his sweat and the wet, thick air.

“Ah… Jungkook,” Jimin says, taking in the image, hopefully ingraining it into his mind forever. Jungkook’s flushed cock pressed to his abdomen, making his t-shirt ride up, his cock twitches, it’s slick with pre-cum that’s already dripped down his length, his chest takes in long breathes and his legs are open, patiently waiting for Jimin. Jimin can’t resist waiting any longer just to take in the sight. He nuzzles his cheek against the inside of Jungkook’s thigh, taking in the smell of the other as his palms travel up from Jungkook’s thighs to find purchase at his hips.

“Jimin, if you don’t touch me I think I’m going to pass out,” Jungkook moans. That’s reason enough for Jimin to bring his face back to Jungkook’s crotch, this time it’s skin to skin, only beautiful and flushed skin on display, no stupid cloth separating them. Jimin’s tongue pokes out, he makes sure to get Jungkook’s eye contact once again, before licking a strip up Jungkook’s length.

This alone sends a spike of pleasure through Jungkook’s form, his stomach tensing as Jimin laps at his vein. Jimin’s mouth is sly, knowing how to subdue a man. His thick lips mumble against Jungkook’s cock, making sure every inch is wet and desperate. Jungkook wants to complain again, to beg Jimin for more more more. He doesn’t need to though, Jimin can see how flustered and needy he is, and he obliges without needing words. Jimin kisses the tip yet again, but this time he opens his mouth and lets it full descend down. Jungkook’s groan rumbles, a noise Jimin hasn’t heard from him before, much louder than the usual weight lifting groan he’s heard previously. It’s exciting, it’s empowering, it makes Jimin only want to please him further. His mouth reaches Jungkook’s base and sucks, Jungkook whimpers, his hips threatening to buck further into Jimin’s throat. Jimin let him do so—yet. He wiggles his throat back and forth at Jungkook’s base, creating a wet and lewd noise.

“Hyung…”

Jimin’s mouth slowly ascends Jungkook’s girth, trailing up slowly until he only suckles at the head once again. He can taste Jungkook’s pre-cum, it only urges him to continue his administrations. When he takes Jungkook’s length back in, his hands trail from their hold on Jungkook’s narrow hips to slide up his torso. Jimin watches as his fingers expose Jungkook’s tanned abs, they move up and down quickly with his sharp breathes and stuttered little gasps.

How did Jimin pull this? This statue of a man, with chiseled features that so easily quake under Jimin’s touch. Jimin releases Jungkook’s cock from his mouth with another lewd pop to echo across the sauna.

“You can fuck my mouth now,” Jimin says with a voice crack, his throat already weak.

Jungkook nods, quickly winding his hands into Jimin’s hair to sway the older to take his cock back into his warm, wet mouth. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to follow Jimin’s instructions, Jimin’s mouth takes in his entire length, relaxing his jaw in preparation for Jungkook’s thrusts. The younger’s thrusts are desperate, they don’t follow a rhythm or pattern, they are fast to seek the softness of the other’s throat, to eat up the noises of gurgling and Jimin’s little choked whines.

“This is too good Jimin, I can’t take it,” Jungkook says, his voice almost singing the words amongst his little broken sobs of pleasure.

Jimin’s hands travel along the skin of Jungkook’s chest, irritated with the t-shirt getting in his way. Jimin lets Jungkook completely wreck his throat, but in return, he brings up the hem of Jungkook’s t-shirt to the younger’s mouth. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to bite down on the fabric, his teeth grinding into it as his moans are muffled. This gives Jimin full access to his exposed skin, his hands squeezing Jungkook’s pecs, tracing the defined lines of his six-pack.

This might be heaven.

Jungkook tries to speak through the fabric within his mouth, but his words come out as a jumble of syllables. Jimin can easily guess what he’s trying to say though, feeling how Jungkook’s cock bounces in his mouth, erratic and frantic for the friction. Jimin’s moan harmonizes with Jungkook’s when the younger finally cums, the heat shooting down Jimin’s throat as he sucks it down greedily. Jungkook finishes with little jolts of his hips before he fully relaxes with a low sigh. Jimin slowly raises his head from Jungkook’s length, lapping at the little bubble of white that still trickles from Jungkook’s slit.

Jimin licks his lips.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans, releasing his shirt from his mouth, the fabric crumpled and wet. He sits up from his reclined position, evaluating just how wrecked Jimin is. “Did I go too hard?”

Jimin giggles, lightly coughing, but his smile not fading. “I’d sound a lot worse if you went too hard.”

His voice is still light and sweet, despite a few voice cracks. Jungkook reaches for the older, his fingers needy to hold the soft skin of Jimin’s face.

“It’s way too hot in here,” Jimin laughs, as Jungkook’s contact only further heats up his skin.

“I can take you back to your apartment and return the favor,” Jungkook mumbles, his eyes glazed in his post-orgasm bliss.

“I wish, I have to go finish my shift though,” Jimin answers with a disgusted sigh.

“I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a blowjob during someone’s lunch break.”

Jimin eats up how Jungkook’s face breaks into a shy smile, while still remaining naked and his cock still hard against his stomach.

“I definitely have never given a blowjob in a sauna,” Jimin replies.

They leave the room and Jungkook does his best to help Jimin look normal again, putting Jimin’s t-shirt back on and tying up Jimin’s cute apron. The last few minutes of Jimin’s break tick down quickly. Jimin’s hair dries easily but his lips are extra swollen.

“Kiss me before I have to go back to work,” Jimin says, in his cute little way of whining out the words. Jungkook doesn’t have to hesitate though, loving the feeling of Jimin’s plump lips against his, still tasting of cedar and that fucking smoothie shop.

“I guess I’ll see you day after tomorrow?”

Jimin makes an upset face, pouting and hunching his shoulders, “Yeah…”

“I’m glad I at least got to see you today,” Jungkook mumbles, kissing Jimin’s cheek repeatedly, taking full advantage of their last few minutes together. “Well, maybe we did a little more than just see each other.”

Jimin wants to smack the other, “Can’t wait till I can see you again,” he smirks, having to pull himself away from the other’s hold to get back to work.

When he returns to the smoothie shop, Jungkook walking with him to give him one last kiss before leaving the gym, Namjoon eyes up Jimin.

“You look different,” is all he says.

Ok, Jimin thinks, next time definitely not in the gym.

☕︎

This "next time” doesn’t come fast enough for Jimin’s liking. It’s longer than the “day after tomorrow” they had agreed upon.

jm: so ur not free til monday? :00

jk<3: an exponential amount of hw got assigned,,, so yea :’(

jm: didnt u guys just have a test ??

jk<3: summer school is,,, a bitch

trust me i hate it too

but u know,,,, dad pays for tuition and gym membership and refills my card soooo

jm: yea :(((

i miss u tho

jk<3: i miss u too

u have no idea minnie

plus,,,, my last memory of u is….. ahhh

lets just say i can’t stop thinking abt it

Jimin smiles widely at his phone, turning it off and throwing it across his bed before he stares at the text for hours, knowing the longer he’d look, the more he’d completely melt on the inside. But his phone buzzes before he can leave it on his bed to get ready for the day.

jk<3: so monday?

jm: yes yes yes

☕︎

Usually, Mondays are a cursed day. But in the summer months, when the sky never really wants to fade into night, and the city pulses in a new way, and legs are always on display in mini skirts or revealing shorts, those months don’t let Mondays bother anyone. With Jimin’s always fluctuating work schedule, and the gym’s inflow not relying on school schedules, the only structure Jimin relies on is that of Jungkook’s. Jungkook’s stupid summer school classes, his relentless assignments he manages to put on the back burner to always text Jimin back quickly and finally make time to see Jimin in person. Jimin knows it’s a hard schedule to be fit into, so he’s grateful when he sees the younger’s face at the other side of his apartment’s door.

Monday. Who would’ve thought?

“You made it,” Jimin coos, pulling the younger into a soft hug. He takes in Jungkook’s smell as his face is pressed to the crook of the other’s neck.

“Of course,” Jungkook answers, taking a deep inhale, his nose in Jimin’s scruffy hair. It’s the same as always, smelling of summer and fruit, but Jungkook can never get over it.

Jimin pulls them into the room and he shuts the door behind Jungkook’s back. The hug loosens only so Jungkook can take the shorter’s face into his palm. Jungkook stares down at Jimin, eyes looking over every centimeter of the other’s face, how his eyes are wide waiting for something to be said or done, how his mouth always looks so kissable.

“You’re not sweaty,” Jimin points out, breaking the silence.

Jungkook’s mouth stretches into his familiar smile, one Jimin has been missing, “I wanted to see you the first chance I got,” he replies. “Honestly fuck school for not letting me see you earlier.”

Jimin’s face perks up into a giddy smile, “See?! That’s what I’ve been saying for days.”

Jungkook cracks up, kissing Jimin’s forehead, wrapping his forearms over Jimin’s shoulders just because he can. Jimin is the perfect height for him to easily embrace and lean his weight into.

“I’m hungry,” Jimin says with a whiny tone, mumbling into the warm fabric of Jungkook’s shirt as he’s buried under Jungkook’s arms.

“Yeah?”

“‘Jimin hyung,’” Jimin mocks, playing up his already high pitched voice, “Will you make me a smoothie? I want a matcha fraaaaaappe.”

Jungkook nearly growls in his slight irritation with the shorter boy, just rolling his eyes as he still holds onto the other’s shoulders.

“Jimin-ahhhhhh, I don’t want whipppp, I drank too much banana milllllllk,” Jimin continues to drawl, a little devious smile on his face. He knows he can easily work up Jungkook, and he indulges with the power.

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate when he squats down and grabs Jimin by his thighs, slinging the shorter boy over his shoulder, and quickly slapping Jimin’s butt that is helplessly on display. Jimin is laughing from behind Jungkook’s shoulder, keeping up his high pitched voice practically speaking gibberish, his arms dangling as he’s marched around his own apartment.

Jungkook finds Jimin’s room, the door cracked open and wafting with the older’s scent. Jungkook is already obsessed. Despite his infatuation, he keeps up his dominant behavior, tossing Jimin from his shoulder onto the other’s bed. Somehow, Jungkook still manages to be tender with the administrations, his eyes showing a different side though; one that darkens with growing lust. Jimin sees the change of character, huffing from the roughness of the other but not speaking up to complain further.

“Jimin-ah,” Jungkook purrs, crawling onto the bed on his hands and knees, slowly approaching the other’s sprawled body. “Don’t make me toomad.”

Jimin smirks, giddy in hearing Jungkook’s pitch drop. But his body is too antsy to lay still, sitting up and switching over to being also on his knees. Jimin doesn’t play along with Jungkook’s dominant character he’s putting on, he likes to be competitive.

“I’m your hyung, Jungkookie, I think we both know who’s really in control right now,” he replies with a devilish tone. Jungkook is taken aback, pausing in his tracks, only capable of watching how Jimin slowly pulls off his blouse. Jungkook can’t quite comprehend what it is about Jimin that is able to so fully transfix him, maybe the way his body so carefully sways in his movements, how he is so sweet but still holds his ground.

Maybe it’s just in how Jimin is so Jimin.

And it’s true, Jungkook really isn’t the one in control, but he loves how Jimin is. With that little sweet voice of his that knows what it wants, and how to always get it. Jungkook would easily buy out the entire smoothie shop’s stock over and over again if Jimin asked him to.

Luckily, Jimin doesn’t want that, all Jimin wants is to close the space between him and Jungkook. He wants Jungkook’s fingers to touch him today, to find every mole of his, to kiss the skin that craves the other so dearly. He wants Jungkook to make love to him, for it to be hard and brutal and completely ruin him, but still have a tenderness remain in the movements, to still see how soft Jungkook’s eyes can become when they look at Jimin. Jimin wants it all, right now, as quickly as possible, as loud and rough and soft as possible.

When Jimin beckons Jungkook, with a simple hum in the back of his throat, his knees craning to get closer, Jungkook is ready to give Jimin everything he requests.

Their lips meet. It’s hardly a sensation at first, the light brush of breath, the hesitance of youth. But Jimin doesn’t allow it to remain so gentle for much longer. His tongue licks across Jungkook’s bottom lip, savoring how delicate it is before he fully envelopes the other in a deep kiss. Their tongues hardly know what to do, both so hungry and clouded in lust that it’s wet and uncontrolled. Jungkook’s mind races with thoughts, Jimin’s tongue, Jimin’s lips, Jimin’s hair, Jimin’s taste, Jimin’s skin. He wants more of it all. Jimin is willing and ready to satisfy.

Jimin shoves Jungkook down, climbing atop the other’s thighs to straddle Jungkook’s hips. He quickly resumes their kiss, heavy breathing connecting and un-connecting their lips from each other. Jimin rocks on Jungkook’s hips, testing out how quickly Jungkook can become hard for his hyung—it’s quick. Jimin smirks to himself against Jungkook’s lips, embracing his power and using it to his full ability. He doesn’t just rock his hips, he sways them and moves them in circles, testing out how many noises he can elicit from the younger at the mere friction.

“Jimin,” Jungkook whines, breaking their kiss but the older still grinds down on him, “Take off your pants I want to return the favor.”

Though Jimin appreciates the younger’s offer, he just wants to be fucked right now.

“We can do that some other time,” Jimin says, leaving little breathy kisses along Jungkook’s neck until he’s cut off at the collar of the other’s shirt. Jimin makes quick work of taking off Jungkook’s shirt, admiring the exposed skin in a harsher lighting, taking in each detail he hadn’t been able to while mid blow job last time.

“You don’t want me to eat you out?” Jungkook asks, almost sad, Jimin’s hair tickling down his chest as Jimin leaves kisses everywhere he can. “I bet you taste so good hyung.”

Jimin scoffs, nipping at Jungkook’s side, “I have very stretched patience right now, I’ve been waiting for this for too long.”

That’s enough reason for Jungkook, he reaches his hands down to his jeans and quickly unbuttons and unzips them. Jimin sits up and lets Jungkook wiggle out of his own pants.

“Iron man underwear?” Jimin laughs.

Jungkook blushes, reaching out for Jimin and pulling him back to sitting on his lap. He sits up with Jimin’s thighs wrapping around his waist, “I was wearing a different pair of Iron man underwear in the sauna, you just didn’t notice.”

Jimin throws his head back with a laugh, “Jungkookie-ah, you’re such a player!”

“I definitely am, you still sucked my dick even when I wore Iron man underwear.”

Jimin smirks, leaning close once again to suck at Jungkook’s neck, he only breaks the contact to whisper against the other’s skin, “And now I’m gonna let a guy in Iron man underwear fuck me, look how desperate you make your hyung, Jungkook.”

The words stifle any chance Jungkook had at a come back, he’s much too far gone with lust to defend his underwear choices. If it works for Jimin then why argue?

Jimin’s hips regain their previous pace, working in dizzying circles over Jungkook’s confined cock.

“Do you have lube?” Jungkook huskily asks, his neck rolling back with pleasure, giving Jimin a view of his sharp jawline and craning neck.

“Yes, I’ll get it,” Jimin answers, pushing himself off of Jungkook’s lap, leaving the younger desperate for friction to return. Jimin saunters over to his bedside table. Knowing Jungkook’s eyes are stuck on his form, Jimin makes sure to put on a show as he strips from his pants. This leaves them both in only underwear, the air almost cackling with the sexual tension that sparks between them. Jimin sticks out his tongue with a wide smile and squinted eyes, his tongue flicks back and forth as he showcases his strawberry lube.

“Of course,” Jungkook laughs. Jimin nods, winding his way around the strewn clothes on the floor, back to Jungkook sitting ready on the bed.

“Turn around,” Jungkook tries to command of Jimin once the older is on the bed, but Jimin doesn’t break eye contact, is body finding its way back onto Jungkook.

“I want to watch you while I finger myself,” Jimin says.

Jungkook gulps. All he does is nod, even if he didn’t nod Jimin would still do what he pleases. Jimin pops the cap of the pink plastic container, drizzling the thick liquid onto his pointer and middle finger; the smell hits the room all at once, intoxicatingly sweet and it makes Jungkook’s eyes flutter.

“Would you help me take these off?” Jimin asks, looking down to his annoying underwear that also strains against how hard he’s become. Jungkook adamantly nods, his hands reaching out to tug down the hem, pulling them until Jimin’s cute little cock pops out. He slides them down until they fall from the older’s thighs and sit at his knees against the bed. Jungkook uses this as his opportunity to finally touch Jimin, the warm skin of his narrow hips, how soft it is under Jungkook’s fingers.

Jimin whines with the attention, trying to focus on fully lubing his fingers up as they bend behind him to rub at his hole. Jungkook watches in amazement, wetting his lips, the scene playing out like some kind of expensive porno and somehow he’s managed to sit in front the most beautiful bottom he’s ever seen.

Jimin’s first finger teases at his entrance, he relaxes, and slowly pushes it in, his face breaking from it’s controlled expression to let out a long whine.

“God Jiminie, do you need me to help?” Jungkook asks, his pitch low, watching as Jimin slowly thrusts the finger in and out of himself, his ministrations slow as he stretches himself out.

Jimin is in a haze, peering at Jungkook from past his thick lashes, “Just watch baby, all I want you to do is watch me… don’t I look good right now? Just one finger fills me up… imagine how tight I’ll be around your cock.”

Jungkook’s throat feels dry, he doesn’t know how to process this level of dirty talk, he’s never had to before. But Jimin is all-new levels of sinful, his voice alone leaving Jungkook needy and pliant.

Jimin makes a show of it when he finally inserts his second finger in, his eyes squeezing shut with a sharp moan that escapes him. He starts to bounce onto his own fingers, using his strong dancer thighs for leverage. Jungkook encourages the other, his fingers grazing light trails across every surface of Jimin available to him. He reaches around the older and traces down Jimin’s arching back, reaching the supple flesh of Jimin’s ass, taking in the soft skin and squeezing it tenderly.

“Mmm, I don’t want to wait anymore,” Jimin whines, his back curling even farther.

“Maybe you should do three fingers…” Jungkook says, smiling.

Jimin’s movements stop for a moment to eye up Jungkook, “Cocky huh?”

Jungkook shrugs, a hand grabbing his clothed cock, giving it a few strokes as Jimin watches with pursed lips.

“Better safe than sorry, hyung.”

Jimin rolls his eyes, but he spreads lube across his ring finger, making sure to not break eye contact as he slowly inserts it past his ring of muscle. He can’t keep up the serious facade though, as the intrusion brings about a new wave of pleasure and slight pain. He can only manage a few thrusts of his three fingers before his thighs quake and give out on him. Jungkook is quick to scoop up his hyung, his fingers holding tightly to the other’s warm and glistening skin.

“Hyung…” Jungkook mumbles into Jimin’s soft tummy. Jimin’s collapsed onto his back, his limbs splaying out carelessly across the duvet as Jungkook climbs over him. “You’re so…”

“Yeah?”

“You’re just—“ Jungkook can’t find the words, looking down at the boy below him, the sheets wrinkling under Jimin’s frame. He’s overtaken by Jimin’s ethereal appearance, of his hair falling every direction, of his face showcasing a level of pleasure Jungkook’s never seen anyone possess.

Jimin doesn’t need Jungkook to try to finish his sentence. He wraps his fingers around the back of Jungkook’s neck and brings the younger to his lips. Their kiss isn’t hurried, it’s slow, and tender because it’s them. They’re shy and flushed and they can’t get enough of each other.

“I’m ready,” Jimin says into Jungkook’s mouth, his voice so hushed Jungkook has to pull away to fully comprehend it. Jimin gives him a nod to reaffirm his words, his legs spreading, his eyes hooded in their desire. Jungkook doesn’t need further encouragement, he slides off his underwear, finally letting his throbbing cock free. It’s flushed at the head and Jungkook gives it a few lazy tugs before reaching to Jimin’s strawberry lube. It’s a little cold as it drizzles down his length, but he doesn’t mind, making sure it’s evenly coated before lining up at Jimin’s hole.

“You’re cute,” Jungkook says against Jimin’s cheek.

“Aishh, just fuck me already,” Jimin complains, but his voice is playful. Jungkook follows the older’s orders. He grabs his girth and circles Jimin’s rim before slowly sinking in, managing to continue pushing farther and farther—despite the overwhelming pleasure that swarms all his veins—until he bottoms out, pressing against Jimin’s skin. Jimin lets out a high pitched moan as Jungkook lets out a low one. It’s a beautiful melody, entirely their own. Their movements are halted for a moment so that Jimin can full adjust to Jungkook’s girth stretching him out. But Jimin, being a needy and antsy boy, quickly grows tired of waiting and bucks his hips up to urge Jungkook to begin moving.

Jungkook tries to control his arms as they lean at either side of Jimin’s head. Despite all his working out, the muscles he’s put so much effort into growing, he’s still weak as his cock is buried in Jimin’s warmth. But he wants to do his best for his Jimin, he wants to make the smaller boy cry in pleasure. So he manages to control his limbs, finding leverage against the mattress to pull his hips back up, his length dragging inside of Jimin until he pushes it back with a rough thrust. Jimin gasps, a loud moan escaping him with the force. Jungkook is hooked on the noise, he begins to pick up his pace and thrust faster, gaging Jimin’s reaction. Jimin is a loud bottom, and Jungkook eats it up, his own moans falling from his lips as he nuzzles against Jimin’s neck.

“’S so good, ah, ah, it’s so good,” Jimin manages to say in-between the rampant bucks of Jungkook’s hips into him.

Jungkook coos at Jimin’s praise, his abs clenching with the effort of filling up Jimin to satisfy the older’s fill. Jungkook sits up, keeping his pace unchanged, and he grabs for Jimin’s thighs, bringing them up to press against Jimin’s torso. This new angle allows Jungkook to thrust faster and directly into Jimin, noticing instantly how he begins to hit Jimin’s prostate.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Jimin lets out amongst his other gibberish mumbles and praises. Jungkook flashes an evil grin, taking pride in already finding Jimin’s angles. He pumps into the other, making sure to hit the same spot on repeat until Jimin is practically sobbing from pleasure.

“If you keep this up I’m gonna cum already,” Jimin whines, his hands reaching out to hold onto Jungkook’s hips, halting the other’s motions. Jungkook lazily smiles, still within Jimin’s warmth but pausing for breath and leaning down to scatter kisses all over Jimin.

“I wanna ride,” Jimin blurts out, his fingers curling in Jungkook’s fluffy hair, and beginning to pull at it so Jungkook leans away from him. Jungkook sighs, frustrated as he’s tugged away from Jimin’s skin littered with small hickeys and the wetness from Jungkook’s mouth. But Jungkook follows orders, albeit slowly and begrudgingly. When Jimin flips the younger over and hovers over the tip of Jungkook’s cock, Jungkook isn’t so begrudging.

Jimin wiggles over it, teasing the other, his small hand wrapping around his cock and giving it a few pumps, Jungkook can only sit there obediently and watch.

“You’re gonna make me act up,” Jungkook says in a grumble, his impatience wearing thin, though a smile cracks across his features.

“Maybe I’d like that…” Jimin responds, yet again swaying his hips dramatically to urge Jungkook on. Jungkook, despite his usual reserves and somewhat timid nature when shy, grabs onto Jimin’s side while Jungkook’s other hand tightens around his own length. He positions Jimin’s hole over the head of his cock, his eyes looking over Jimin to take in the boy’s neutral but encouraging expression, before shoving the older down onto his cock. Jungkook feels more pleasure in seeing how Jimin’s face contorts with the sudden intrusion and euphoria that bursts within him than the pleasure that courses from his own length. Despite this, the pleasure of being inside of Jimin is also very overwhelming. Jungkook lets out a yelp when the other boy first sinks down, and then there’s a pause. Jungkook bites his lip, eyes not daring to look away from Jimin’s because he knows how the older boy hates when he looks away. Jimin feeds off of the attention, the praise that’s given within just a small gaze, it is what fuels him to begin moving.

At first it is slow, a small raise of his hips with a twist of his angle. Jungkook already caves, his hands trying to find purchase on any part of Jimin he can hold on to. Jimin loves how reactive Jungkook is, his hands covering where Jungkook holds him, encouraging the younger to hold onto him tighter, to enjoy it even more. And Jungkook is easily swayed. He can hardly try to buck his hips up to meet Jimin’s administrations, he’s only capable of sitting back and let Jimin thoroughly ruin him.

“Should I try out this challenge I saw online?” Jimin asks with a light giggle, his speed increasing, his thighs putting in the work to give him proper leverage as he bobs up and down.

“W-what challenge?” Jungkook stutters.

Jimin smiles and doesn’t answer, he begins to sway his hips to the left, and then in a circular motion, and then to the left again, a circle, and then forwards towards Jungkook, and then away in the opposite direction, finishing his pace with a forward and backward movement, and finally a left to right motion. Jungkook is out of breath and out of new noises to make when Jimin pauses in his actions.

“Was that the challenge?”

“I spelled coconut,” Jimin laughs, regaining some speed as he rides Jungkook, “Coconut for my non-dairy boy.”

Jungkook slaps Jimin’s ass with the comment, drawing out a whimper from Jimin, and Jungkook can’t help but smile in satisfaction.

“You need to say more stupid shit so I can make fun of you,” Jungkook grunts.

Jimin nods, his hands reaching out to plant themselves on Jungkook’s hard chest, “You can’t make fun of me while I’m riding you, that’s just not allowed.”

That’s fair, Jungkook thinks, as Jimin grinds against him, the breathing of the shorter on top of him becoming strained and letting out little noises with each exhale. Jimin’s small fingers twist at his bobbing cock, the skin flushed and wet with a mix of lube and pre-cum getting everywhere.

“Do you want to cum Jiminie?” Jungkook asks, stabilizing Jimin’s movements with a harsh hold on the other’s hips. Jimin nods frantically, letting Jungkook control the scenario, no longer trying to bounce onto Jungkook’s cock with his labored and desperate movements. Jungkook makes sure Jimin stays still so he can thrust his hips up to completely thrash Jimin. Jimin is too far gone for this treatment, his body going loose as all he can do is take it, bending down to nuzzle into Jungkook’s chest as the younger continues his relentless movements. Jimin grinds his cock against Jungkook’s abdomen as he strokes it, letting the other completely control the pacing and roughness. He loves it though, he loves controlling Jungkook until he grows tired of it and lets the other have his way with his body. It’s pleasant to lay atop his tan boyfriend—if he is Jimin’s boyfriend…—and receive all the pleasure he’s been craving for months. The slight glaze of sweat over Jungkook’s skin, the breathy moans with the effort, the way Jungkook’s fingers keep brushing over Jimin’s naked back to soothe the other’s constant whines as he nears his orgasm.

Jimin feels loved. Or at least adored. And it just adds to his high, the euphoria of Jungkook’s fingers gripping at his soft skin, the tangle of moans and whines amidst the hot air, it all builds. It brings Jimin to his climax as his body shudders with the release. Jungkook remains thrusting into him, not loosing his pace but enjoying the feeling of Jimin’s walls tightening around his length as he rocks the other through his orgasm. Jimin breathes heavily, panting against Jungkook’s honey skin, his fingers crawling over the younger boy’s chest and abs.

“Cum for me Jungkook.”

Jimin knows he won’t be able to handle much more, he wants Jungkook to cum quickly after him so he doesn’t become too sensitive.

Jungkook, being the obedient boy he is, doesn’t need to be asked twice. He holds Jimin up, raising the older’s hips slightly off from sitting on his thighs. He thrusts erratically upwards into Jimin as Jimin can’t help but yelp with the overstimulation that already courses through his limbs. Jungkook comes quickly, his reserves letting go and for those brief moments leading up to his release he doesn’t worry about hurting Jimin. Jimin likes it though, to see Jungkook grit his teeth and anticipate his growing orgasm, how his moans turn to low growls. When Jungkook finally thrusts his last time and his body goes limp with his brief moment of pure bliss, Jimin takes it upon himself to roll his hips a few more times onto Jungkook’s cock, enjoying how Jungkook mutters, “Aishhh, Jimin…”

Jimin relents, despite his enjoyment in watching Jungkook’s face contort, it does hurt him to continue much longer. He slowly raises himself off of Jungkook’s cock that drips a few last drops of cum. It’s a sight, Jungkook’s abs covered in cum, his cock wet with lube and his breathing still trying to calm down.

“Do you have anything to clean up with?” Jungkook finally asks when his eyes clear of their haze and he’s able to control his breathing.

Jimin laughs, standing up only to quickly realize how sore he is. He stretches out his limbs, Jungkook watching how Jimin’s naked body bends to gracefully. I should really watch him during one of his dance classes, Jungkook thinks, remaining quiet as he takes it all in.

“I have toilet paper?” Jimin says with a sheepish smile.

Jungkook throws his back to the pillow under him, sighing as he feels cum drip down the sides of his stomach. “This is always the gross part,” Jungkook laughs.

“Wanna shower?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook’s expression perks, “Yes, unless it all drips off of me before I can get in.”

Jimin giggles, reaching down to smack Jungkook’s shoulder, “Don’t tease me!” “Don’t cum on my stomach next time!” Jungkook jokingly exclaims, “God, I look like a glazed donut.”

Jimin dies of laughter, throwing his head back as his eyes completely shut with his giggles. He finally calms down to grab Jungkook’s hand and tugs the younger boy off his bed. Jungkook follows Jimin as they find their way to Jimin’s shower, quickly, so Jungkook doesn’t have to deal with the dripping liquid much longer.

It’s all so natural. It all feels so right. It feels romantic, scenic, it’s too perfect for how much fucking cum is on Jungkook’s stomach right now. He just laughs to himself.

☕︎

“Ok, I’m gonna admit something to you,” Jimin says, maybe four months into them dating—yes, officially dating— “I’ve never had banana milk.”

Jungkook’s face turns to utter shock. They’re walking along some random street they’ve accidentally discovered, long into the night but it’s still warm out, it feels like the street beckons them further. It’s a street of random convenient stores with neon signs lighting up the humid air, vendors still behind their carts because so many other couples are out despite it being a late hour of the night.

“How did I accidentally start dating someone who’s never had banana milk? What kind of hell dimension am I living in?” Jungkook teases. Jimin nudges his body against Jungkook as he laughs.

☕︎

It’s actually a funny story how they managed to start dating. They’d had sex a couple times, each time Jimin being dominant until tiring out and letting Jungkook pound into him. Despite the many occasions their naked bodies intertwined, despite how many times Jimin would choke on Jungkook’s cock or Jungkook’s tongue would dart into Jimin’s hole, Jimin was still too shy to ask Jungkook what they were.

One night they were cuddling on Jimin’s couch, random snacks littered across the older’s coffee table and their legs tangled around each other. Jimin, bold after eating well—not to mention the alcohol that also helped fuel his courage—finally turned to look at Jungkook. Jungkook had met the other’s stare, his expression innocent and eyes wide.

“Yes?” Jungkook asked amidst the silence.

Jimin hesitated, floundering to find the remote and pause whatever they were watching. “We’ve been having a lot of fun together… right?”

Jimin felt his nerves return, he wished he could have retracted his words but he already started to get the conversation going, he couldn’t have turned back.

“Yeah…” Jungkook smiled, still not picking up on any of Jimin’s slight eyebrow raises or how his eyes darted around; always so oblivious.

“Well… I guess I just wanted to make sure that… I don’t know… that you feel comfortable with me calling you my… my boyfriend.”

Jungkook had looked perplexed, his forehead tensing and his lips trying to form a word.

“It’s okay if you’re not comfortable calling it that yet!” Jimin continued to blurt, “… I just wanted to check in—”

“Jimin, wait what?” Jungkook interrupted the other’s rambling, “Haven’t we been boyfriends this whole time…?” Jimin was still not convinced, not letting a smile form yet, his fingers picking at the blanket that had been strewn across their legs a few hours previous.

“I don’t know, we’ve never talked about it and I didn’t want to rush you…”

Jungkook scoffed and grabbed the older’s round cheeks, squeezing them until Jimin’s lips formed a plump circle shape.

“I’ve wanted to be your boyfriend since I first saw you in that smoothie shop. Jimin, half my stuff is already in your apartment right now,” Jungkook could hardly continue through his laughter, “You already met my dad and we had dinner together, Jimin, I’ve slept here for the last two days.”

Jimin was quiet, just staring back at Jungkook with wide eyes and his cheeks still squished under Jungkook’s fingers.

“Oh.”

Jungkook laughed, “Yeah.”

“Uh…” Jimin slowly smiled, his cheeks turning a stronger pink and his eyes darting around the room, “Then that’s cool.”

☕︎

The streetlights emanate a soft glow across the city’s street. Jimin eyes the upcoming store they approach as they slowly continue their walk.

“I could try it for the first time, like, right now.”

Jungkook turns to look at him with a pleased smile, “You definitely won’t regret it, I really miss it. I think I made myself literally lactose intolerant after drinking a few too many.”

Jimin laughs, his hand reaching out to rub Jungkook’s tummy with sympathy, “If I really like it I might have to become lactose intolerant too.”

Jungkook shrugs, “We’ll just have to see huh?”

Jimin nods, and they turn in unison to enter one of the markets. The fluorescents are at first hard for their eyes to adjust to, all the product’s labels bright and colorful. Jungkook knows immediately where to go, despite each market having a different layout, most have their drink freezers along the back wall. Jungkook confidently marches over, scouring his eyes over the numerous products until he lets out a pleased laugh.

“Here we go! Banana milk! This is my favorite brand!” He exclaims proudly, showcasing it to his boyfriend. Jimin nods, returning a smile, and lets Jungkook bring it to the cashier and check it out. They leave the store and find a street side little table with two chairs across from each other.

“Ooo, this is so exciting,” Jungkook giggles, undoing the cap and sliding the drink over to Jimin. Jimin eyes up the yellow label and then turns his focus to Jungkook who intently watches his every move.

“Are you ready? Maybe you should record this, Jimin’s first sip of banana milk,” Jimin is slightly teasing, but he loves how happy Jungkook is, so he plays along.

“Oh, good idea.”

Jungkook quickly fishes out his phone and presses record, the iPhone beeping as the video begins. Jungkook talks into the phone, “Everyone, prepare yourselves, this might be the most important moment in Jimin’s life. Yes… he’s trying his first sip of the famous banana milk!”

Jungkook signals to Jimin for Jimin to take his first swig from the plastic bottle. Jimin follows orders, picking it up, evaluating it one last time before bringing his lips to its’ rim. The sweet milk hits his tongue and his eyes widen and then he swallows it down carefully. He takes one last sip before setting the drink back down. Jungkook raises a brow.

“Hyung…” Jungkook’s voice drawls from behind the phone, “Are you even able to find words to describe it? Can you handle how good it is?”

Jimin giggles, playing up his pleasure with the drink. “Ah! Jungkookie! How have I never had this before! You weren’t lying!!!”

Jungkook is pleased and turns off the recording, slipping his phone away.

“See? I knew you’d love it.”

Jimin nods, taking another sip, adding a satisfied sound effect as it slips down his throat. After a few minutes of brief chatter they stand up and continue their walk, light noises of other conversations drifting in the heat around them. Jimin takes Jungkook’s hand in his, tenderly, carefully, softly.

It’s so warm out, but Jimin always needs the heat of Jungkook’s hand in his to feel complete.

☕︎☕︎☕︎

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