#vmin fluff

It’s alright. 

Jimin is awkward, too.

He’s perched on the edge of his chair like he’s ready to take flight, but his limbs are twisted into pretzels. He keeps stepping on something that he hopes is one of the table legs and not Taehyung’s foot. He giggles too much, at nothing really. Smiles until he can’t see. Rattles their mugs after his elbow collides with the table. 

They’ve reached a lull in their conversation—not because they’ve run out of things to say, but because they’ve said too much.

Around them, the cafe bursts at the seams. Locals and tourists take turns squeezing through the front door, hoping to hide from the cold. Paris is warmer than Jimin expected; the people, not the weather. Though he wonders if everything is tinted pink because he’s with Taehyung. 

“I like being a normal person with you,” was the sentence that strangled them.

Jimin clears his throat when Taehyung doesn’t respond. He touches the base of his neck and imagines that if  words could leave visible scars, he’d have self-inflicted ligature marks where the thin gold necklace Taehyung bought him loops his skin.

Taehyung straightens his hunched shoulders. He breathes through the motion and is careful not to knock over his half-drunk hot chocolate. His dark, piercing eyes tell Jimin nothing.

“You’re sweet,” Taehyung says, and Jimin’s heart sinks. Less than three hours ago, Taehyung draped Jimin over their hotel bed, and fucked him with a cock that has won awards and has a specialty dildo moulded after it that Jimin may or may not have bought after the first time they worked together. 

But now, Jimin is sweet? He knows what a polite rejection is. 

Looking away, Jimin keeps his hands and his gaze down. He picks at a loose string on his sweater, wanting to rip it but knowing he’ll only make it worse by unraveling more thread. It’s pretty and expensive. 

“Thank you,” Jimin mumbles because what else is there to say?

Underneath the table, Taehyung nudges Jimin’s leg with his foot. It coaxes Jimin’s gaze from his lap, and confirms that Jimin had definitely been stepping on Taehyung’s foot through the entirety of the hot chocolate date. How fucking embarrassing. 

“I told you, I’m not good at… this,” Taehyung lifts his hot chocolate to his lips, pausing to add, “but I like being a normal person with you, too.”

Jimin wishes Jungkook were here right now. He needs his best friend to tell him what to say, how to act. Inside, he knows Jungkook would encourage him to freak out. Be true to himself. Be Normal Jimin.

This isn’t a love confession. They may be in the City of Love, sipping hot chocolate with their legs intertwined, at a random cafe Taehyung said he’s never taken anyone to before until Jimin. But it might not mean anything.

Taehyung may have spent two hours making love to Jimin the way he said he wished he could from the moment he met him—no cameras, no directors, no script. Just Taehyung, getting onto his knees to worship Jimin with his hands and mouth until he trembles. Jimin may have teared up because no one has ever touched him with reverence before. But it might not mean anything.

They may have wandered Paris afterward, arms linked. Taehyung may have pulled Jimin into an alleyway, the cinematic kind of cobblestone and market vendors, to kiss him with the Eiffel Tower as their backdrop. But it might not mean anything. 

To Jimin, it means everything. 

He tells himself he’ll recover eventually if this goes poorly—if his time with Taehyung ends, or even if it never truly begins—as he reaches across the table. He grabs the knot Taehyung has tied in his scarf and is gentle when he pulls it. 

They meet in the middle with sticky lips of chocolate and whipped cream. Taehyung slides his arm forward to lace his fingers with Jimin’s free hand. There’s a clatter, probably their silverware falling to the floor, but it can’t distract Jimin from the smile in Taehyung’s kiss that knocks their teeth together, like a ceramic mug on enamel. For a pornstar, Taehyung’s kiss is clumsy, and the hand he uses to cup Jimin’s face trembles slightly. 

Jimin has to remind himself that he isn’t kissing Pornstar Taehyung right now. And maybe, just maybe, to Normal Taehyung, this means everything, too.

With his hands on his hips, Jimin stands on their front porch while Taehyung tugs a Santa Claus hat over the round, bald skull of their six-foot-tall skeleton. Taehyung puts a little more force into it than he needs to, nearly knocking the skeleton off the rocking chair it’s been hanging out in since October.

“I’m not stifling your creativity,” Jimin watches Taehyung brush snow off the skeleton’s shoulders, “I’m being realistic.”

Taehyung looks back at Jimin with furrowed eyebrows and a deep pout. “You’re killing my vibe.”

“It’s a skeleton.”

“She has a name. Which you know.”

It’s too cold to be standing outside like this, though Jimin is ill-prepared. In house slippers and a flannel pajamas set, he shivers against the unforgiving winter morning wind. Taehyung must have inherited the winter’s cold when he was born. His stare is equally unforgiving.

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Skully is a Halloween decoration, and we are halfway through December.”

Taehyung scoffs and throws a fluffy white scarf around Skully’s neck.

There isn’t anything inherently wrong with keeping the Halloween decorations up. It’s just… weird. Halloween and Christmas are on opposite sides of the holiday spectrum. Spooky vs. festive. Dark vs. light. Jimin wants the feel-good coziness of Christmas exploding across their front porch. Why does Taehyung insist on mashing the two together?

“Time isn’t real,” Taehyung proclaims with a grunt as he straightens up. He stands in front of Skully, mirroring Jimin by placing his hands on his hips, too. “Besides, I thought you would like Skully’s holiday cheer!”

“And why would I?”

“You’re a Halloween baby,” Taehyung says with an exasperated sigh. “And I’m a Christmas baby. It’s the perfect combination of our love.”

Taehyung’s explanation would be kind of cute if Jimin didn’t trip over a giant plastic jack-o’-lantern while trying to get through the front door.

There’s no use arguing—not that Jimin wants to. He learned his lesson long ago. Once an idea nestles in Taehyung’s brain, there’s no going back.

Putting up with the shenanigans is worth it, though, when Jimin sees the look on Taehyung’s face once the front door shuts out the crisp winter air. Bright eyes, flushed cheeks, Taehyung glows rose-gold as he hangs his coat on the wall hook. His icy boots go next, kicked into the corner with Jimin’s. Gloves shoved in pockets. Loosely draped scarves slithering from wall hooks to the floor. The entry to their home is an explosion of winter gear they shed like snakeskins, only to tug and pull and stomp back into them to do it all over again.

And as always, Taehyung stands in the middle of the mess, Jimin’s little winter king.

Red, white, and blue explosions dotted the night sky as the plane flew closer to their destination. Some fireworks formed silly shapes, like smiley faces and flowers. Others looked like burning snowflakes.

Jimin remembers being in awe. He’s even sure there’s a photo of him somewhere, likely in one of his mother’s old albums, with his nose pressed to the plane window and sparkles in his eyes.

That was nearly two decades ago, yet Jimin exudes the same excitement now.

“It’s the aurora borealis,” Taehyung says. He shifts in their bed, giving Jimin more room to peer out of the window. “The Northern Lights.”

It’s gorgeous, and a wonderful surprise. Jimin has a hunch that Taehyung knew they would fly over the Northern Lights on their trip to his home planet but kept it a secret from Jimin. It would be a rather romantic thing to do, as are most things Taehyung does for Jimin. Still, seeing the Northern Lights from the edge of Earth’s atmosphere is something few people get to experience.

The aurora blankets Earth’s blue curve in light so radiant that Jimin can’t stare at it directly. Each dynamic flicker of light curtains and spirals in a pattern Jimin is sure must cover the entire sky. He has no idea where their spacecraft is—what countries and oceans they’re flying over or even how fast they’re going. Rather than scare him, the unknown makes the aurora even more fascinating.

Their bedroom on the spacecraft is dark, but the aurora’s waves flicker across Taehyung’s face, casting him a green-yellow glow. It makes Jimin giggle once he finally turns away from the window.

Taehyung scrunches his nose and smiles, tilting his head to the side. “What?”

“You always look so human, but the Northern Lights made you green,” Jimin snorts. “You look like a real alien now.”

Behind Taehyung, four long tentacles peek out from over his shoulders and around his sides. They flit around, almost as if they’re waving at Jimin to say, don’t forget us! As if Jimin could forget the adorable little pests that appear from his boyfriend’s back when he’s happy.

“Do I?” Taehyung asks. His smile widens, more genuine now that he’s no longer confused. It reaches his eyes, and Jimin swears he sees sparkles in them, too. “I believe there may be at least four differences between me and humans.”

“You’re annoying.”

“I’m only going off what you said, little moon.”

Rolling his eyes, Jimin shoves Taehyung in the chest. It’s a half-hearted attempt, but Jimin never means to hurt Taehyung, anyway. All he has ever wanted to do is make his boyfriend feel good—happy and safe. Like he belongs. That’s the main reason Jimin is even up here, shooting through space to travel to a planet the rest of humanity doesn’t know exists.

Technically, Jimin isn’t supposed to be going. Taehyung had to pull strings to get Jimin on the trip, and there was always the risk that the authorities might discipline him for revealing the existence of aliens to Jimin.

It’s a Christmas miracle. Jimin doesn’t plan on overthinking it. He’s happy to snuggle with Taehyung in their tiny bedroom and watch the Northern Lights from the window and imagine what Taehyung’s life was like before he met him.

“What are you thinking?” Taehyung asks. He grabs Jimin’s hands with his own to keep them pressed against his chest. Beneath Jimin’s palms, his heart beats at a startlingly erratic pace. It’s normal, but Jimin has yet to get accustomed to it.

“I hope your family likes me,” Jimin confesses with a sigh.

Taehyung uses one of his tentacles to flick the underside of Jimin’s chin. It ventures from Taehyung’s back, unrestrained because Taehyung doesn’t wear shirts to bed anymore.

“Oh, moon,” Taehyung squeezes Jimin’s hands, “you’ve already won their hearts by wanting to visit them.”

Jimin hums and tries to focus on the logic of Taehyung’s statement to comfort him. “True… and I can’t wait to spend Christmas with your family. Even though they don’t celebrate it,” he says with a smile, finally meeting Taehyung’s eyes through the aurora’s green glow.

“My sister said she’s learning to make pumpkin pie,” Taehyung joins in on the laughter. “She got the ingredients imported all the way from Earth. That’s how eager she is to meet you.”

It warms Jimin’s heart to listen to Taehyung talk about his family. Since Taehyung shared his alien identity with Jimin, he has become more willing to be vulnerable, sharing his history and emotions, and engaging in physical intimacy. It’s the latter that led them to be more open with each other to begin with.

“I love you, little moon. My heart,” Taehyung murmurs.

“And I love you, too.”

Their conversation shifts away from family to Taehyung’s appreciation of Jimin’s companionship and the closeness they share in the cramped bedroom. Taehyung slides his fingers up the back of Jimin’s head, curling them into his soft hair. He tilts Jimin’s head with a grip on his hair as he leans in, slotting their lips together.

It was once rare for Taehyung to initiate physical intimacy. Knowing Taehyung is comfortable with him now makes Jimin’s heart swell with joy.

“What time is it?” Jimin whispers against the corner of Taehyung’s mouth. They aren’t the only people occupying the spacecraft. Jimin has met incredible crew members and other scientists who work with Taehyung.

Taehyung’s next exhale comes out as an airy laugh. He’s grown a little cocky; Jimin fears it may be his fault for rubbing off on Taehyung.

“The bedrooms are soundproof.”

Jimin moans through a violent shiver as Taehyung’s tentacles slither against his skin. Two glide up his torso to latch their tiny, ridged suckers onto his nipples. Another slips into the front of Jimin’s silk pajama shorts to curl around his soft cock.

“Taehyung..” Jimin goes dizzy, head spinning with the unexpected flood of sensations.

Looking boyish and innocent with a boxy smile, Taehyung hooks his thumbs in Jimin’s shorts and tugs them down his thighs, stripping him bare.

“Does it feel good, moon?”

Of course it does.

Jimin is already hard and panting to the point of near hyperventilation. The slickness of Taehyung's tentacles, which get wet and sticky when Taehyung is aroused, is what does him in. The more slick there is, the easier it is to stroke Jimin’s cock, dragging the ridged, suckered underside over his sensitive skin with quick jerks. Jimin gets on his knees between Taehyung’s legs on the bed and leans into him as they kiss. The further he leans in, the harder the tentacles suck his nipples.

“So good.”

And then Taehyung’s mating tentacle, the one that often stays hidden, glides along Jimin’s hip. It’s slightly thicker than the other tentacles, and although Taehyung typically keeps it close, Jimin swears it’s the tentacle that’s drawn to him the most. It slithers around Jimin’s little waist and travels south until it reaches the plump curve of his ass.

Jimin’s hands fly up to cover Taehyung’s, which hold the sides of Jimin’s face as he kisses him. He needs a way to steady himself.

When the mating tentacle slips between his ass cheeks and rubs his hole, Jimin gasps into Taehyung’s mouth. The tentacle’s slick makes Jimin’s rim sticky.

“Put it in,” Jimin murmurs against Taehyung’s lips.

“Fuck, jagi…”

Taehyung’s mouth falls open with a quiet moan as his tentacle pushes past Jimin’s rim.

They’ve had sex plenty of times since Taehyung’s big reveal. But despite Jimin’s willingness to involve all of Taehyung’s tentacles, Taehyung rarely lets his mating tentacle get involved. Jimin wonders if being in space, heading toward his home planet, brings something out of Taehyung that makes him want to use his mating tentacle on Jimin.

Mimicking Jimin’s heartbeat, the tentacle pulses inside him. It wiggles around, slithering up his walls and coating him with slick that gushes every time the tentacle draws back and then thrusts in again.

“You want more, little moon?”

Jimin nods his head. His eyes squeeze shut and his lips part. He’s panting again, breath hot and moist.

When Taehyung squeezes a second tentacle in Jimin’s ass, his knees nearly give out. It takes Taehyung holding him up with his hands around his waist to make sure he doesn’t collapse onto the bed.

As satisfying as it is to fuck long and hard, Jimin and Taehyung don’t take long to come.

Jimin falls apart with one tentacle stroking his cock and two ravaging his hole. Taehyung merely sits there, holding Jimin against his chest with his arms wrapped around his waist as Jimin writhes through his orgasm.

Taehyung comes too, but not with his cock, which he never bothered to touch. Instead, cum pumps through his mating tentacle. The tentacle fills Jimin up with thick, iridescent cum that spills in rivers from his over-stretched hole once Taehyung’s tentacles slither out.

It’s messy, and they’ll have to change their sheets now, but Jimin doesn’t care. He’s just happy to fall into Taehyung’s arms and listen to his erratic heartbeat somehow slow down to match his own. As different as they may be, it’s moments like this that remind Jimin of how he and Taehyung were meant to be—their strings attached and stars aligned.

Some days, their kisses are as quick as Jimin’s faerie wings keeping him afloat. Those usually come as a surprise; Taehyung popping out of hollowed out tree trunks or from behind boulders to snatch Jimin up. He’ll squeeze his waist, plant a kiss against his lips, just to disappear again, laughter howling with the wind. 

Other times, their kisses are languid, like the flow of the creek that cuts through the dense trees and open plains of Neverwood. Jimin thinks he likes those the most, likes how slow and easy they are, and how deeply he can fall into them. But what fascinates Jimin the most is learning why they kiss. Because faeries don’t kiss, of course. And he always thought Lost Boys didn’t either. Stupid Wendy may have brought kisses to Neverwood, but Jimin’s little faerie body explodes with too many feelings when he thinks about how he’s the one keeping them here.

Today, Jimin’s skin is sun-kissed and warm from spending all afternoon lounging outdoors. The midday sun doesn’t bother Jimin too much; Taehyung covers up most of it. He lies on his side in the grass beside Jimin, propped up by one forearm so he can lean forward slightly. He raises his other arm over his head, dangling a cluster of twiggy leaves and berries tied together with a red velvet bow.

“Do you know what this is, Jimin-ah?” Taehyung asks with a smile that’s too wide to be anything but wicked.

Jimin doesn’t enjoy appearing stupid, and he isn’t a malicious faerie on purpose. But he lies when he nods in response, rubbing his sunny blonde hair around in the grass. He’ll get twigs and dirt caught in the fluffy strands, but it’s nothing he can’t ask Taehyung to help comb out later.

Taehyung’s grin widens. “Oh really? Tell me, little faerie.”

“Why?” Jimin narrows his eyes. “Want me to tell you because you don’t know?”

“Faeries are such liars,” Taehyung says with a sigh. He mustn’t be too concerned, considering he bops Jimin in the head with the bundle of leaves.

The disrespect. At least once a day, Jimin wonders why he bothers being friends with Taehyung. Humans are such terrible creatures.

“Leave me alone!” Jimin pushes Taehyung’s chest as hard as he can to no avail. The nuisance merely laughs, head thrown back, big teeth on display. He howls into the gust of wind cooling the forest floor and pays Jimin’s protests no mind.

“This,” Taehyung shakes the bundle above Jimin’s head, “is mistletoe. They’re magic plants from the Mainland.”

The strange plant doesn’t look magical to Jimin. It’s dead, first of all, cut off from its roots and looking sicker by the minute every time Taehyung threatens Jimin’s face with it.

“What’s so magical about it?” Jimin asks. He crosses his arms against his chest so Taehyung knows it will take a lot to impress him.

“It hypnotizes people,” Taehyung says in a singsong voice and waggles his eyebrows, “makes them kiss each other.”

Jimin snorts. Ever since Wendy and her stupid kisses, that’s all anyone ever wants to talk about! Sure, kissing is fun, especially with Taehyung, but must they invent magical plants about it now?

“Hmph. It doesn’t work very well, does it?”

Another smack across the head with the supposedly magical mistletoe, and Jimin is ready to kill Taehyung right there for all the little woodland creatures to see.

“So you don’t want to kiss me right now?” Taehyung’s waggling eyebrows return, and Jimin can’t tell if the tingling feeling that wiggles through his body is from irritation or the desire to kiss. Whatever it may be, he’s certain it has nothing to do with this strange plant.

“Nothing that comes from the Mainland is magical,” Jimin says instead of answering Taehyung’s question.

“Kisses came from the Mainland.”

Taehyung is too smug. Jimin wishes there was a way to wipe the look off his face, to make him wrong. But he’s right—kisses are magical, nearly as magical as the blood burning in Jimin’s veins. Nearly as magical as the look on Taehyung’s face when he tosses the mistletoe on the ground beside them and leans in.

“I hate kisses,” Jimin mumbles as his eyes grow heavy. He tilts his head slightly, turning toward Taehyung so their lips fit together perfectly. Yes, he hates kisses. Hates them more than anything in the world. That’s why his blood burns, hot like Taehyung’s mouth.

And Jimin most definitely hates how Taehyung licks his lips, slow and intentional, before he bites them. Of course, Jimin hates how he falls for it every time, gasping, sharp and quick. He knows it’s his reaction that makes Taehyung smile. 

“You’re pretty,” Taehyung says, voice hoarse because of the magic of the mistletoe, he claims. “The prettiest faerie in all of Neverland.” When he grins, his teeth press against Jimin’s lips.

Jimin knows he glows brighter from the praise. He can see his golden hue sparkle in Taehyung’s seafoam eyes. Though his wings are pinned underneath his back, fairy dust flutters in the surrounding air, swirling with the occasional breeze.

And then Taehyung’s tongue returns, this time to slip inside Jimin’s mouth.

“Tae?” Jimin startles, pulling back slightly. His eyes grow wide when Taehyung cackles, and he thinks he’s so, so cruel.

“Stupid faerie,” Taehyung teases when he grabs Jimin’s chin. He squeezes Jimin’s cheeks, forcing his lips to pucker. “I told you I want to teach you about kisses. So you must do what I do.”

It feels strange, using his tongue in this way, especially when Taehyung swirls their tongues around one another. The confusion, and the excitement it eventually evolves into, heightens the moment Jimin feels Taehyung’s hand find its way under his tunic.

They’ve touched like this before, holding each other in an embrace as close as they can get. It helps Jimin sleep on the nights he doesn’t spend in Pixie Hollow or in the little bed Yoongi made for him at Home Underground. Taehyung’s touch is always warm and firm, like it is now, his palm gliding up Jimin’s side. Feeling Taehyung’s fingers tickle his bare skin makes heat flush through Jimin’s body. Familiar but uncommon. It blooms and burns.

Taehyung says faeries are too small to feel more than one emotion at a time—that must be why Jimin’s heart races when Taehyung’s hand slides southbound. His fingers run along the hem of Jimin’s trousers before daring to drop lower.

“Tae!” Jimin pulls back again, but this time his gasps morph into moans that shock him even further.

Of course, Taehyung, with his big teeth and ocean-wide eyes, laughs as he presses his palm against the bulge growing in Jimin’s pants.

“There’re more to kissing than just lips,” Taehyung muses. He watches Jimin’s face as he rubs his palm with slow, teasing motions. There’s an intensity in his gaze that makes Jimin squirm.

“More?” Jimin can’t fathom what more there could be. All he knows is he can’t handle what Taehyung is doing. It’s like Taehyung is toying with him, playing with his body to see what he can do with it—to it.

Taehyung bites his bottom lip. “Mhm,” he hums as he wiggles his hand underneath Jimin’s waistband. When he curls his hand around Jimin’s cock, he laughs at how loudly Jimin moans.

“The—” Jimin moans again, almost panicked by the unfamiliar sensation. “The mistletoe does this?”

For a moment, Taehyung lets Jimin’s question hang between them. He spends the quiet in-between dragging his fist along Jimin’s cock in slow strokes that make Jimin tremble so violently he releases enough fairy dust to last a lifetime of flying.

“No, not the mistletoe,” Taehyung eventually admits. He leans in to press a kiss against the hinge of Jimin’s jaw. When he speaks again, it’s in a whisper dancing across Jimin’s sensitive skin. “Just you, you silly faerie. I just like going on awfully big adventures with you.”

Certainly not Taehyung, who groans through a toothy smile. He knows he can’t hide it, so he tips his head back to smile at the night sky instead of facing Jimin’s smug look.

“All of this is so…”

“Romantic?”

Taehyung groans again. “Do I look like the type of person to be into romance?” he asks, still smiling at the sky.

Even if Taehyung frowned, tried to throw a fit, Jimin could easily pick up the pleasant spike of his alpha scent in a crowd. It warms Jimin’s freezing lungs when he inhales it, earthy and spicy, driftwood and bourbon. As much as Taehyung claims to hate the Christmas spirit, his scent fits right in with cinnamon and pine. Jimin’s vanilla scent is the bow that wraps it all together.

Jimin curls his gloved fingers around one end of Taehyung’s polka-dotted scarf and tugs it just hard enough to pull him from the sky. “Yeah, you do, actually.”

“This is terrible for my devil-may-care image.”

“Taehyung,” Jimin resorts to whining, “I helped you win a Grammy. The least you can do is take a picture with me and the world’s prettiest Christmas tree.”

They’ve been friends for a year and a half, have experienced a lifetime together between Jimin’s first text to the infamous V and this moment—their toes curling for warmth in their boots, the tips of their noses glowing Rudolph red, the lights from the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree twinkling in Taehyung’s amber eyes. Around them, hundreds of thousands of spectators shuffle as close as they can to the 75-foot-tall Christmas tree, hoping for the perfect picture of 50,000 colorful lights and a 900-pound Swarovski crystal star.

As two of Korea’s most famous idols, Jimin and Taehyung have the money to cozy up with the tree. And maybe they should have been more careful about their personal safety with no proper security. But Jimin must really be too romantic because he convinced Taehyung to take him to New York so they can experience the tree lighting just like everyone else—standing in the crowd, packed like sardines.

The elbows to the ribs and headache-inducing mix of scents may not be worth Jimin’s romanticization of normalcy, but being close to Taehyung is.

There’s no denying how Jimin’s heart races when Taehyung grabs his hips after yet another person bumps into them. The ebb and flow of the crowd jostles them, urges them together and then pulls them apart. Jimin laughs, his excitement exhaled as puffs of white-hot breath in the winter air. Oh, Christmas! It brings something out in him, makes his heart race, his body tingle, though he doesn’t know why.

It doesn’t help that Taehyung is behaving so unusually. The king of making apathy look cool, he betrays his own image without Jimin needing to do anything at all. Rosy-cheeked and smiley, he holds Jimin’s hips even when the crowd settles, with bare hands because he’s too alpha to wear gloves, and grins with a scrunch of his nose.

“Should I put you on my shoulders so you can take a selfie?” He tightens his grip on Jimin’s hips with two quick squeezes that jolt Jimin’s body forward. “We’re too far from the front, and you’re so fuckin’ short.”

Jimin crosses his arms against his chest. “I want to take it with you.”

“More romantic that way?”

Unsure of what to say, Jimin tugs on Taehyung’s scarf in retaliation for the teasing. It doesn’t give him the reaction he wants, though—it only makes Taehyung laugh.

“Get on my back,” Taehyung bends his knees slightly and twists his torso around. “I’ll take a selfie of us that way. Y’know, long arms and shit.”

With anyone else, Jimin would be too afraid or self-conscious for a piggyback ride. But Taehyung’s shoulders are broad; his waist, small enough for Jimin to wrap his legs around. He lifts Jimin as if he’s weightless, only needing one arm hooked around Jimin’s left thigh to help keep him from slipping as he holds out the other arm to capture the moment on his phone.

“A serious one first, then some silly ones?” Taehyung asks with his face turned toward Jimin. His words are hot on Jimin’s frozen cheek.

Jimin thinks Taehyung’s lips might brush across his skin, but he’s too numb from the cold to really know.

“Seokjin hyung would like that,” Jimin says, always thinking of his manager’s marketing needs because he was raised in the idol world since he was a young teen.

“Your fans, too.”

A gust of wind blows in their faces and nearly sweeps away Taehyung’s words. His bangs lift from his forehead, the strands spreading in all directions. Jimin tries to hide from the painful lashing the air gives them, ducking his face partially against Taehyung’s shoulder and partially at the nape of his neck. His breathing must tickle because Taehyung hikes up his shoulders, making Jimin’s body jiggle.

“You’re so cute, Chim.”

There’s a flash that stands out amongst the Christmas tree lights and the blinding brightness of New York City at night. Jimin lifts his face to see Taehyung take another photo of them, one he’s sure will come out looking ridiculous, with Jimin clinging to Taehyung like a baby monkey hiding in its mother’s fur. He’s too embarrassed to consider how it feels to be cute according to Kim Taehyung.

Maybe he’ll worry about it later, when he’s back home in Seoul scrolling through the photos from their trip. Maybe he’ll worry about it later, when the photos show the twinkling lights in Taehyung’s eyes every time he looks at Jimin—and not just at the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree.

Yeah, he’ll worry about it later.

For now, he’ll nuzzle into Taehyung’s neck after each gust of wind and be thankful he helped him win a Grammy.

“Ahh, Jiminie, I felt like I was in the clouds!” 

Taehyung flies on his back with one arm crossed behind his head and the other dangling below him to let his fingers skim along the water. His seaswept blonde hair ruffles in the wind as he glides along the water with his eyes closed and his face pointed toward the midday sun. There’s no need to look at where he’s going; Taehyung knows the island better than anyone, even better than Jimin. 

“You can sit in the clouds whenever you want,” Jimin mutters, just barely loud enough for Taehyung to hear him over the tinkling sound of Jimin’s wings fluttering through the briny sea air.

“This is true. But imagine feeling such a sensation with both feet planted firmly on the ground!”

Taehyung’s eyes snap open to stare at Jimin, who floats above him. His eyes are deep, seafoam green, and as calm as the ocean on the island's north side, far from the Jolly Roger’s dock and Mermaid Lagoon. 

“I prefer to use my wings more often than my feet,” Jimin insists. 

“Stupid faerie,” Taehyung grins with large, white teeth, “you wouldn’t understand. It was absolutely magical !” 

With a sudden burst of energy, Taehyung kicks his feet and launches himself further into the sky. The force sprays water into the air, large droplets nearly knocking Jimin, who is in his tiny faerie form, out of the sky and into the ocean. 

“I am not stupid!” Jimin screams after Taehyung, whose cackle is carried across the island by the wind. “And I am magical!” 

“Not as magical as a kiss!” 

Taehyung swoops through a low-lying cloud, causing it to burst apart and disintegrate into small whisps of white. Jimin watches him skip across the sky, hopping from cloud to cloud, laughter turning his wide mouth boxy. Joyfulness looks gorgeous on Taehyung, even at Jimin’s expense.

It hadn’t always been at Jimin’s expense – not until Wendy. 

Stupid Wendy and her stupid kisses. 

Jimin scowls and struggles to keep up with Taehyung as he careens through the sky toward the dense trees of Neverwood. He isn’t interested in returning to Home Underground, for he knows some, if not all, of the Lost Boys will be there. It has been days since Wendy left Neverland, and the Boys still beg Taehyung to retell the Kissing Story. Jimin is sick of it! 

Tumbling into the brush on the forest floor, Jimin stands at his full height, no longer the tiny creature that fits in the palm of Taehyung’s hand. Jimin prefers his natural faerie form, but he has found himself transforming more than usual to be human-sized. Perhaps it’s because Taehyung has stopped letting Jimin sit on his shoulder or hide in his hair. 

It’s that damn Wendy’s fault! 

The only thing keeping Jimin’s anger at bay is the delicious fact that Wendy is gone, preferring to return to the human world rather than stay in Neverland. Jimin knew not to trust a girl . Of course, no one ever listens to him. He’s just a stupid faerie. 

“You are so grumpy today!” Taehyung shouts before scooping Jimin up and tossing him over his shoulder. “Yoongi is rubbing off on you.”

“I am not! You’re being a jerk,” Jimin hisses as Taehyung carries him to one of the hollowed-out trees made to disguise a secret shoot that leads to the underground hideaway the Boys live in.  

They shouldn’t be so loud; no one knows when a pirate might be creeping about. Even Jimin has let slip the Lost Boys’ secrets a handful of times out of anger that he always regrets later. He isn’t a malicious faerie, but Taehyung always says faeries are too small to have more than one emotion at a time. Whether or not it’s true, Jimin doesn’t know, but if it means that Taehyung will forgive him when he’s naughty, then Jimin is okay with that. 

“You’re just jealous,” Taehyung grins and tosses Jimin down the shoot. He cackles when Jimin screams and jumps down the shoot to follow him. 

“I hate when you do that,” Jimin groans from where he flops onto the floor, having been spit out by the shoot into the middle of the living room. When he looks up, big, wide eyes stare down at him. 

“Hi Jiminie,” Jungkook gives him a soft smile and holds out a dish with a mini blueberry cake on it. “I made you some sweets.”

“Oh, thank you, Jungkookie. That’s so nice of– Hey!” 

Quick and unapologetic, Taehyung snatches the pastry and pops it into his mouth. When Jimin gets up to charge after him, Taehyung presses his palm against Jimin’s forehead to hold him out of reach. 

“Taehyung! I am so tired of you!” Jimin tries wrestling with Taehyung's arm, twisting at his wrist. His efforts only make Taehyung laugh, the sound just as pretty as the tinkling of Jimin’s faerie wings as they flutter in frustration behind him.

“It’s okay,” Jungkook insists, “I made more.” 

Jungkook’s kindness is drowned out by the sudden hooping and hollering of the other Boys, who finally realize Taehyung is home. They come clambering out of other hidey holes in their home, falling out of patch-quilt hammocks, and popping up from holes in the walls. They all screech for the same thing, the Kissing Story. How many times must one story be retold?!

“Tell it again, Tae,” Hoseok demands with sparkling eyes, and the rest of the boys eagerly agree. 

The Boys lounge on the floor in the middle of their home, where pillows and blankets create a giant nest for them to cuddle in. Yoongi is curled up in Hoseok’s lap, mouth open, as he waits impatiently for Hoseok to give him a crumb of blueberry cake. Seokjin is off in the kitchen cleaning up Jungkook’s baking mess. As usual, Namjoon is found in the rafters – the roots of the tree that map the ceiling – with a book in hand. It’s one Taehyung stole from one of his trips to the humans. Jimin doesn’t know how to read, but he would bet all the gold in the world that the book is about something stupid, like kisses.

The Boys gather around Taehyung, who perches atop a small, polished tree stump — the “talking chair,” as the Boys call it, denoting that Taehyung has the floor to speak.

Jimin stands to the side with his arms crossed and one shoulder against the wall. He hardly listens to the beginning of the story, the part where Taehyung talks about trapezing through the human world and getting into trouble. It’s his good looks and quick wit that lure humans to Neverland. Jimin is quite honestly tired of it. Humans don’t belong here; it’s bad enough the Boys and pirates exist. If it were up to Jimin, the island would be inhabited by faeries and merpeople.

“Her lips were soft,” Taehyung reminisces with a sigh felt throughout Home Underground. Some of the other Boys sigh, too, with envy or hope that one day they will experience the unique magic of a kiss.

Scowling, Jimin turns away with disgust, twisting his pretty face. Faeries don’t kiss. No one on the island kisses except merpeople and pirates. It’s a savage thing, something dirty and dangerous that only serves to woo people to bed or kill them, as is the case with a mermaid’s kiss. There is no reason to spawn new faeries; they grow from morning dew every time a human baby laughs for the first time. Faeries don’t kill people, either. And if they did, there is sufficient magic for that.

So, what need does a faerie have to kiss? There simply isn’t one.

Yet Jimin watches Taehyung out of the corner of his eye and feels panic in his chest. It’s too stuffy in Home Underground — the downside of being underground. It’s hot, and there's no air circulation to calm the rising storm shaking Jimin from the inside.

With a puff of golden, powdery pixie dust, Jimin transforms into his faerie form, tiny enough to fit in a person’s palm. He flies through the group of Boys, pinching Taehyung’s earlobe as he zooms by before disappearing up the shoot Taehyung had previously thrown him down.

“Jimin-ah!” Taehyung shouts as he tenderly rubs his ear. “Come back, you little pest!”

The thing is, Home Underground isn’t Jimin’s home. He isn’t a Lost Boy. He grew up here, in Neverland, like all the other faeries. Sure, Yoongi carved a tiny bed out of a tree branch for Jimin to sleep on when he visits Home Underground, placed on a rickety nightstand beside Taehyung’s bed, but it isn’t his real home.

Pixie Hollow is where Jimin belongs. As he flies home, glittery tears staining his pink cheeks, he is reminded of how much he truly doesn’t belong with the Lost Boys. It was silly of him to bother saving Taehyung that fateful day many years ago. He should have known better than to venture out into the seas to save a boy from a shark attack after being cast off a pirate ship — he should have known that Taehyung would bring him trouble.

Trouble and heartache.

Jimin is unfamiliar with the second concept, but it fills his tiny body with such unbelievable sadness that he can barely make it to his miniature tree home before he collapses in the doorway. The gold glow he usually emanates is muted, so much so that it’s almost entirely nonexistent.

It isn’t true that flying requires happy thoughts; pixie dust suffices. But the life inside Jimin flickers sometimes, and he doesn’t know why. Sometimes, he thinks it’s because of Taehyung. Even though Jimin is always by Taehyung’s side every step of the way, no matter the circumstances, Jimin fears that Taehyung forgets him.

And the worst thing that could happen to a faerie is that they are forgotten.

Amid his sorrow, Jimin doesn’t hear the piercing wind that shoots through the trees protecting Pixie Hollow. Only creatures capable of flight can access the forest unless they brave the dangerous waters surrounding the island. Jimin prefers the solitude of their forest. He likes having someplace to run away to.

Flipping over onto his back, Jimin stares up at the stars twinkling in the sky. The lower half of his body is through the door’s threshold; the other half is on the porch of his tree house. Perhaps he’ll lie here through the night, using the patch of moss beneath him as a pillow.

It sounds like a good idea until the stars disappear behind dark clouds and the air smells thick with moisture. Before Jimin has the chance to summon enough energy to get up, the sky unleashes a downpour of cool rain. Each drop for a human might be refreshing, but tiny Jimin feels like he’s drowning. He’s weighed down by his soaked clothing and misery, willing to give everything up. Maybe he’ll die here instead. He supposes it would be an excellent place to die, his home. He hopes the world knows it’s Taehyung’s fault.

“Oh, Jiminie, what are you doing?”

The rain stops, and Jimin’s vision goes dark. He wipes water and tears from his eyes and blinks.

Taehyung’s blonde hair frames his face as he stares down at Jimin, worry etched in the wrinkles of his forehead and the pout of his lips. It’s such a strange look on a boy made of light.

“I’m taking a nap,” Jimin croaks.

Taehyung frowns.

“You’re so cold.” Taehyung pokes Jimin’s shoulder, his finger large enough to crush him but gentle.

Jimin lets Taehyung scoop him up in his hands and sits upright rather than flop his body down like before. He feels like rolling off Taehyung’s palm and plummeting to his death! That would be much better than staring into Taehyung’s big green eyes.

“Please get big.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Please,” Taehyung juts his bottom lip even further. “I want to give you something, and I need you to be big.”

With a quiet sigh, Jimin does what he’d considered: he rolls off of Taehyung’s palm. Halfway before he reaches the ground, a puff of pixie dust clouds the small corridor the trees make along the path to Jimin’s house. Once human-sized, Jimin stands before Taehyung with his hands on his hips. He wants to look menacing, despite his sadness. He wouldn’t look it regardless, but he does his best.

“What do you want?” Jimin tries to snap, but apparently, heartache changes everything.

Whatever this look is on Taehyung’s face, Jimin doesn’t like it. It isn’t mischievous or sad, but it reminds Jimin of those two things, and he doesn’t understand how both can be true at once. It doesn’t help that the rain still pelts them, plastering their blonde hair against their heads and making their vision blurry. Taehyung must be at least a little bit sad for some reason. He controls the weather.

“You stupid faerie,” Taehyung says softly, barely heard above the steady stream of rain, “you never ask enough questions.”

Narrowing his eyes, Jimin is about to ask what such an accusation means when Taehyung takes the side of Jimin’s face in one hand. He brushes his thumb along Jimin’s cheek, likely noticing the glittery remnants of his tears. Then he leans slowly but without hesitation to slot his lips with Jimin’s.

Faeries don’t kiss, so Jimin has no idea what to do. At first, he holds his breath and stands still, arms locked at his sides. Unfortunately, faeries aren’t merpeople, so Jimin must breathe. He gasps when he jerks back, and Taehyung laughs.

“Ever since I learned to kiss, I have wanted to teach you, too,” Taehyung’s confession is cheeky, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he ducks his head and looks at Jimin through his eyelashes. So coy and deceiving.

The look sparks heat in the pit of Jimin’s stomach, shooting in every direction until his limbs are tingling just as badly as his lips.

“Try to breathe next time,” Taehyung taps his index finger against Jimin’s parted lips, “and move like I do.”

Jimin grabs the front of Taehyung's tunic when Taehyung leans in for another kiss, this one moving faster than the first. Taehyung's other hand wraps around Jimin's waist, pulling him until their bodies are pressed together, from their lips to their feet sinking in rain puddles as they sway. Taehyung is warm and firm, and when Jimin cracks his eyes open to take a peek at the gentle look on Taehyung's face as he kisses him, he sees his own golden glow reflect on Taehyung's pretty tan skin.

The slide of their lips together is smooth and wet with rain. Jimin follows each whispered instruction Taehyung gives him in between breaths, desperately wanting to perform well. Other feelings drive him, such as desire and the need for affection, too many emotions for a tiny faerie to carry. He can only focus on one, and his body naturally chooses a loophole — a way to encapsulate all the feelings he wants to feel at once.

“I love you,” Jimin admits, his eyes squeezed shut, and Taehyung’s lips pressed against his jaw. He had never considered the possibility for kisses to be given elsewhere.

Taehyung laughs, and Jimin’s love is almost overpowered by flaming embarrassment.

“I don’t know what love is,” Taehyung pulls back and pinches Jimin’s earlobe. It’s delayed retaliation, and it makes Jimin open his eyes.

“It’s okay,” Jimin says softly. The rain has stopped. “I don’t know what it is either.”

There’s still mischief in Taehyung’s eyes, but his look is soft rather than dangerous. Jimin has grown to adapt to Taehyung’s unpredictability, but this look catches him off guard.

“Shall we find out together?” Taehyung asks, lips reddened and still wet.

“That sounds like it would be an awfully big adventure.”

Taehyung’s grin is boxy and wide. He throws his head back and hollers, not unlike a wolf singing to the moon or hyenas laughing at prey. In the same breath, he snatches Jimin by the wrists and kicks off the ground, hurling Jimin high into the air with a screech.

“Taehyung!”

Jimin’s love drains as flustered embarrassment fills him when Taehyung catches him in the air, only to toss him onto a fluffy rain cloud that soaks Jimin even further and shout, “I told you, Jimin-ah, kisses feel like being in the clouds!”