ninetyeightwriter-blog

[ninetyeightwriter-blog]

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A/N: So… I love reading, since I was little, and, at some point, I started fantasizing about actually writing the stories I wanted to read somewhere. Here goes the first shot with a concept I sent to etherealmins, who was kind enough to give the approval I was looking for.

WORD COUNT: 1731

Date time, though were scarce, were treasured and longed for by the two of you.

They’re carefully planned, checking the empty slots on the calendar hanging by the kitchen door, checking again to make sure they remained empty throughout the weeks prior. It wasn’t unusual to find the two of you discussing the plans over and over again, adding details, searching new ways to do old ideas, letting the excitement for even 1, 2 hours together squeezed in between busy schedules built into expectation.

Also, they often started way before the date itself, the bubbling anticipation for the hours to come displayed on the small grins and lingering gazes full of adoration perceived through reflexion on the mirror above the bathroom sink while standing side by side. Rooftop picnic, stargazing outside town, dinner with reservations… They all stared, almost sacredly, on the meticulous preparation for the little escapade, when you’re applying an extra layer of lipstick or he’s adjusting the cufflinks you got him on your second anniversary.

That’s where you can be found now, silver bangles and bracelets jangling on the moving arm responsible to hold the mascara brush whilst mouth lays agape humming along the soothing sound echoing from the bedroom. Stuck in the peacefulness of the moment, eyes glued on the reflected task, the senses fail to acknowledge a new presence shyly invading the ambient. Only when leaning back into a proper standing position you’re able to catch by the corner of your eyes his fidgeting figure cuffing and uncuffing his dress shirt, widening the collar opening only to button a few sets again.

Basking in the buzzing feeling of his presence, it takes more than just a while to notice the uneasiness flashing as an outdoor sign across his pitch-black orbs. What doesn’t take long though, is the worry that settles within when eyes fall upon the awkward movements of his fingers against his shirt’s fabric, this one getting crumped by the second. As a small smile forms on marsala lips, you turn his direction and slowly make your way to him, carefully not to disturb even more his obviously unsettled track of thoughts. Your hands move naturally to rest on his chest once he’s in reach and his own come to a halt only to leave his shirt and wrap around your hips instead, thumbs absently moving in circles as if to calm himself.

“What is up in that big brain of yours?” Your voice is barely a whisper, but you know he’s heard from how his hands tighten around you.

And then he smiles. The award-winning, heart-warming gummy smile that swooned you from day one and you almost let it distract you from how his eyes focus on everything but yours. Almost.

“Hey, talk to me… If you don’t want to g-“ He doesn’t even let you finish the sentence before he is frantically shaking his head. You let out a breath probably stuck on your throat for even thinking about calling out the date while still searching for what might be disturbing your lover boy.

“It’s kinda dumb, really…” He starts, but then his right hand rises to the back of his head and you know he’s going to need a little more coaxing to start opening up.

Silently, your eyes plead for his racing mind to stop as your hands reach for his and fall on his chest with intertwined fingers.

“C’mon,” You whisper looking into his eyes intensely to assure there’s nothing to worry about “Just use words, I’m sure there are plenty that can do the work…”

He scoffs at your words, but a fading pink starts to bloom on his pale cheeks and a smile falls on constantly chapped lips.

“Remember the photoshoot for the last album?” You nod, uncertainly as to why he is bringing it up, and he continues “You spent almost a month after the pictures were released talking about how much you loved everything about them, but mostly about how much you liked how Noonas did my hair.”

He didn’t need to explain further which shoot he was referring to. You could picture it perfectly on your mind.

Yoongi never really showed much of the projects for Bangtan before the official releasing date. You’d get to listen unfinished melodies he was still figuring out, here and there listen to a semi-polished song that was rejected from the album and sometimes read some verses when he wanted your opinion. But never a official thing. Like concept pictures.

He seemed really excited about the new album as well as the other boys, to such a extend you could feel it would be amazing. To say you were anxious about it would be an understatement. However, it didn’t matter how much you anticipated them, the photoshoots announcing the group’s new phase got you completely by surprise.

It looked like they were trying to bring a nostalgic vibe to it, all concepts were old fashioned and high class, still holding a boyish appeal to them. And Yoongi was specially stunning in every single one. Sure, you knew he looks like he stopped aging at his twenties and you certainly knew his gummy smile made him look tiny and dainty, but you can swear you’ve never seen well-produced pictures for his group in which he looked so much like a joyful rich boy.

Everything was perfect, from the outfit to the wide grin he was displaying, but what really gave Yoongi a headache from how much you talked about it was his hair. It was in natural colour after a long time, dark locks of silken hair styled in subtle waves bringing a flow to it. Maybe you were just hyped from the expectations, maybe it really was the cherry-on-top, what you knew was you loved that hair and it broke your heart to never see it in the flesh.

You’ve begged him to style like that at least once, just for your own pleasure, only for him to stare at you in amusement or laugh at what he called “cute whines”. He never gave in, so you just stopped asking. The shoot was still you homescreen, a daily reminder of how soft and precious your lover boy was.

He knew how deep run your love and adoration for the specific hairstyle and yet, up until now, acknowledgement was as far as you got.

Well…

“Well... I asked if they could teach me how to recreate it, but I’m not sure if I’m handling the curling iron right… Could you, ya know, give me a hand?”

You blink once. Then twice. And then you let out an overly excited squeal followed by giggles from his part.

“Yes! Oh God, yes! Why didn’t you say it already?! C’mon, let’s move to the bedroom, shall we?” You say in a suggestive tone, earning a full laugh as the two of you make the way through the door “You know the iron must be on, right?”

***

The soft beats from his playlist fill the silence while you work on his hair, both comfortably placed in the middle of the bed. Yoongi’s instructions turn out to be only two or three tips on how the mousse should be applied and how big each strand must be for the curl to be subtle, making the task in hand much easier than you once expected (oh if only you knew…).

While focused on mastering the style, his long fingers draw absently on the exposed skin of your things laying on each side of him. Short nails scratching gently, as if to mark quietly his presence, to state he was still there.

“I think it’s done…” You say after almost half an hour, hands busy carefully turning the machinery off.

He moves to face you quietly, just as you set aside the hair mousse on his side table, waiting for your attention to fall on him.

“So…” He tries in a hushed tone “Is it any good?”

His hand fly to his neck, nail digging in the nape. He waits attentively for your opinion.

You take good a look at him, eyes scanning his figure, and it couldn’t be more different from the shoot. The hair was definitively there, but everything else didn’t match. Starting from his outfit, the plain black colour staining from the matted material of his shoelace and belt to the tailoring pants and the dress shirt give off a far darker and grave feeling to him, making you question for a second how on earth he manages his duality so well. His face is also make-up free, the signs on left cheek and on “boopable” nose visible and waiting to be smooched. The big grin is now replaced by shy side smile and expectant eyes.

You let out a dreamy sigh. That’s your lover boy, right before you.

It suddenly hits you, doesn’t matter how much you wanted – no, scratch that, how much you longed to see the manifestation of said photoshoot in the flash, your boy always delivered something way better. Because it’s himself. Because it’s reality and you could feel it in the totality of your senses, from the pine fragrance to the smooth skin.

Caught in a daze, you move forward to straddle his thighs and connect your lips to his in a hurried but pretty assertive act. The marsala colour once staining your lips comes to leave an imprint on his lips, cheeks and neck during your audacious pursuit of claiming every bit of skin presented to you. Mouth moves in a passionate stupor not to leave anything unattended.

“It’s perfect Min Yoongi,” You mumble once a space was created between you, eyes never leaving his lips now swollen and smeared in lipstick “You’re always perfect Gi… I don’t know how I managed to hit the jackpot getting someone like you to be with me…”

***

You arrived twenty minutes late to your reservations, the hostess makes sure to press it on you by the disapproval stare she casts on the two of you while leading the way to the table, but the time was well used. There was no chance you’d be getting your boy walk out the door without basking him in all the love and adoration he deserved, particularly when he was looking so perfect for your own pleasure and it alone. Your perfect lover boy.