bro finding this acct again right before 5/7 BTS discharge. bro im tearing up at work what do you MEAN the ENLISTMENT is over. like guys 2015-2017 enlistment was like this looming storm we didn’t know if we’d make it through and we maDE IT THROUGH
OH MY GOD SO NO FUCKIN BULLSHIT I SWEAR To GOD. I reblogged this an hour ago and IM NOT Lying My Tax Refund which I did in late march popped into my Bank Account, and it was a Decent sized amount……
WHAT THE FUCK Is THIS MAGIC!??!?!?! Im trying this again IM NOT BSing hahahaha thats actually pretty cool xD
Hey can you please update last words I've been waiting for over a year I need closure even if you're not going to finish it please? It's my favorite
so fun fact i actually stopped writing Last Words because im actually a kinda self descructive person and part 4 actually got so real and personal that i got dizzy and light headed and shit but also even tho i had a plan it ended up getting super redundant and never had motivation to write more fuck im so sorry i wish i could write more for you but i literally have no idea how. if i ever do write more it will end up on here tho i promise
(yes hello this is very much a work in progress but i thought if i shared it here it would encourage me to write more regularly)
wc : 2000
warnings : drugs, alcohol etc
—
Hoseok exited the tent with his water bottle and re-joined his group by the front of the crowd facing the stage. He wouldn’t say that this group of people were his friends but in this day and age trust is hard to buy, and festival tickets are even harder. A close acquaintance in his class had offered him a spare ticket and he wasn’t one to refuse such an opportunity, so for the next three days he was part of this clique.
He caught the eye of the boy he knew and gave him a wave to alert his return to them. The boy in question, Yoongi, shared a class with him and sat in the chair adjacent. They were usually paired in group projects and bonded over a mutual adoration for a music group and when Hoseok was not fortunate enough to get tickets, Yoongi happily offered him a place with his group from outside school. He wasn’t familiar with this group but he tried to stay positive in the thought that he would be able to get along with them and perhaps get to know Yoongi a little better too.
Weaving his way through the anticipating crowds, he rethought the names of the others he had been introduced to today, just as a precaution so he didn’t mistake them. Yoongi he knew, not the most dominant looking character, his black bowl hair bobbing under the shoulders of most of the group, but very clearly the alpha male. He was talking to who Hoseok believed to be Jin. He was easier to distinguish with his pink hair that he had coloured for the occasion and, from what Hoseok had experienced, he seemed to be the friendliest one, making an effort to speak to him even if the others didn’t.
The rest of them were slightly harder to differentiate; Namjoon had blonde hair which was easy to remember but the youngest ones, Jimin and Taehyung, were much more difficult to tell apart. It didn’t help that neither of the two had spoken to him either, they kept within themselves and rarely included the other ones in whatever they appeared to be murmuring privately. They seemed to be almost stuck at the hip as they sat cross-legged on the grass but Hoseok wasn’t entirely bothered to solve the puzzle of which was which.
As if it was timed, as soon as he approached Yoongi the warm up group’s song began to fill the stage; the loud bass making countless banners and bunting surrounding the festival’s stage bounce in time with its drones. Catching him off guard however, a beer can was also shoved into his grip.
He looked up calmly at Yoongi even though his insides were churning, yes he was seventeen and old enough to handle it, but Hoseok had his own personal morals and didn’t want to disappoint this new group he had managed to make a good first impression with.
Namjoon took a small pin out from his belt loop, appearing to be the hook used to hold a tent string in place. The boys cheered him on as he pierced the side of the can and chugged its contents in one swing, roughly wiping the excess from his face with the back of his hand. He squeezed the can and threw it to the ground before turning to his ecstatic friends, all yelling wildly under the deafening music, with the exception of Hoseok of course.
He was bathing in his glory but turned to the one who wasn’t cheering him on. Hoseok didn’t have a face of disapproval, it pulled into more of an expression of surprise at the behaviour of these boys that acted like shining examples in their school environment.
Before he could think twice about their exemplary reputation, the pin was presented to him along with five expectant faces. He could feel the blood drain away from his face, he didn’t want to show himself up in front of them but people he knew from school were in this crowd and his conscience was bouncing around his skull looking for an answer.
He turned away from Namjoon’s smirk and faced Yoongi, highly amused by the idea of the class president about to chug a beer in front of him. “I feel really sick” he said, knees shaking slightly but trying to keep an air of confidence - anything really so he could get back to his tent.
“You do look really pale”, Jin cut in from behind, “do you want me to get one of security to help?” but he was greeted by a frail hand shooing him away.
“Oh no it’s nothing like that, I just need some aspirin or something”, he lifted his head slowly, “there’s some in my tent, i’ll catch up with you guys in a few minutes”.
Hoseok turned to leave but he felt a small hand on the hem of his hoodie, holding him in place. Jimin - or one of the two who he had not spoken to - was holding a small bag of medication in his fist out towards him, whilst his partner was giggling beside.
Not a word came from his mouth but a wide grin appeared on Yoongi’s face. “Jimin what a great idea, how thoughtful of you”, he exclaimed rather unnaturally, grabbing the bag with two hands and bringing it closer to Hoseok’s view.
“Jimin suffers bad nausea and he’s offering you one of his medication,” Yoongi looked from the bag and looked him dead in the eye, shoulders rising and head tilting to the side, “just to calm your stomach, y’know.”
He flashed a kind smile at Hoseok but he seeme unsure at the gesture. They looked like average pills he would have at home, six half orange and half white - familiar - but he was thrown off by their presentation in the bottom of a sealable sandwich bag.
Jin stepped in between Hoseok and the bag; he with began “Yoongi, I-” but was cut of by the most sinister stare Hoseok had ever seen. Jin was taken aback and stuttered on the syllable as he tried to fix his interjection, “I-I-I think it’s okay as long as Jimin doesn’t need them for himself”. The boy in response gave his head a saccharine shake, still sitting with Taehyung giggling silently at some unseen amusement.
Hoseok felt a spin of dizziness as the crowd around began to suffocate him and he reached forward for the bag. His shaky fingers pulled the slider along its path and picked out one of the tablets from inside, placing it in the center of his palm. Yoongi took the bag back off him, replacing his smile with a concerned face when Hoseok looked up at him.
He placed the pill on the tip of his tongue, taking no notice at the odd array of expressions watching him and washed it down with the water he had brought from the tent.
As soon as he felt the gulp of water enter his stomach, he strangely felt a lot better. Unsure if it was the pill or simply the aid to his possible dehydration, he could feel the colour returning to his cheeks and the clouds clear from his head.
“See?”, Yoongi said, chuffed with himself, “nothing scary about popping a little pill to help you have fun.” Hoseok smiled up at him but it left just as fast as he watched him slide a tablet between his own lips and swallowing it whole.
“Do you feel sick too?”, he breathed through his trembling lips, feeling a weight sit like a rock in the pit of his stomach. Yoongi laughed in response, eyes seeming redder but his smile brighter, and the group around him joined in whilst the sandwich bag visited each pair of hands between them.
“Sick of not having the best day of my life!”, Yoongi yelled after bringing his hysteria to close. The boys around him cheered on his comment and Hoseok watched in horror as he saw the sandwich bag launch in the air with their arms - empty.
Yet, the seconds he saw the bag leave Namjoon’s fingertips the world seemed to go into slow motion, though Hoseok himself hadn’t. He moved he head quickly around as he saw the crowd coming back to earth gradually following the lead from the main singer leaping to his own beat. The guitarist beside him glided his hand down his fretboard in all the time in the world, creating no sound to Hoseok’s ears. His eyes worked back to the drummer and he watched as the drumstick danced a waltz in the air, drifting slowly away from its owner’s hand and into the air.
However, Hoseok didn’t feel faint any longer. He didn’t really feel anything. Apart from the situation around him he gazed with unfocused eyes back to the crowd, beginning to leave the ground once more but something caught his eye.
A hand waved through the raised arms of the vast audience at him and he felt his feet propel himself towards it, curious as to why it did not share the same speed with the rest of world and why the only sound filling his ears was the soft tick of the white watch wrapped snugly around its wrist. He looked quickly back to the group who were drifting slowly back to earth, eyes squeezed shut with beer falling in slow droplets in the air around them. Within a short moment, Hoseok had set off towards the one thing that made sense in this entire place, weaving through the tispy teenagers towards this tiny beacon on familiarity.
As he approached he saw a boy, he appeared his junior but not by much, dressed in a white blazer and suit trousers making him stick out like a sore thumb between the crowds of neon bras and tank tops. The only thing about his appearance that connected him to the situation was the comical white bunny ears that were on sale all around the festival resting on top of his brown locks.
Upon seeing Hoseok, the boy’s face grew a twisted grin that matched the angle of his cocked head. His eyes were warm and welcoming but the twitching sides of his mouth said otherwise. The eyes that were heating Hoseok up flicked to the watch and the smile drained from his face as did the colour in the boy’s cheeks.
“You’re late”
It was whispered almost inaudibly through the suffocating silence of nothing but the clock’s hands ticking ever so slowly. “Who a-”, Hoseok just managed to stutter out before he watched the boy sprint away from view causing Hoseok’s legs to distinctively kick into motion from underneath him.
He found himself pressing through the crowds once more who were speeding up along with the tempo of the clocks ticks. With every second that went by the tick seemed to manifesting further and further into his ear, tormenting him into a state, but determined to follow this stranger for at least some answers.
The ticks turned into beats, that turned into booms, causing his eyes to squeeze closed with the increased speed and volume of each unwanted noise. He kept a distorted field of vision on two floppy ears in the distance until suddenly the booms became a much needed silence in his brain.
The crowd volume had returned to normal as he burst through the back row looking onto the back of the field, dizzy and exhausted. The music was a lot quieter from the distance he had ran away but all he cared about was the boy only a few yards away, waving sickly sweet at him.
He tried speaking to this stranger once more but the second his mouth opened he helplessly watched the world fall to the side. The last thing Hoseok remembers was the boy’s hand fall slowly back to his side, a sharp pain at the side of his head and then darkness.
Pt. 1 // Pt. 2 // Pt. 3 // Pt. 4 // Pt. 5 // Pt. 6 // Pt. 7 // Pt. 8 // Pt. 9 // Pt. 10 (FINAL)
Word Count: 1043
Genre: fluff, angst, royalty au, arranged marriage au
Summary: In order to solidify and further prove the alliance of two kingdoms, the Choi Kingdom had decided to arrange a marriage between their kingdom and the Lee Kingdom. It was a great plan! Now, if only the two parties personally involved were willing…
You sat in the garden, a pout on your face as you watched Seokjmin and Chan spar. The birds were chirping and the sun was shining. There were light clouds in the sky and none covered the sun. It was a reminder that this was the third summer since the war started. It had started that sweltering summer and now approached another sweltering summer. Still, there were no letters as requested. Though, you supposed no news was better than bad news.
Can you update the Vampire Jungkook Au dhdb you can leave it at chapter 10 if you want just update pls not rushing you do dhd
highkey you’ll hate and love me for this but this inspired me to rewrite it!! mainly because i didn’t like/cant remember how i left it so now i’m making it again and it’s gonna be even better so stay tuned for those updates !!
I highkey miss posting a multiple part story on here, but i cant think of a story so if you want any preferences, even if its only which character the story is about, send me an Anon!
Lol so remember that time i was all jazzed about writing a prince au for yoongi and it was gonna be long af lol that didnt happen i got discouraged and never finished it but i teased it a heck ton for yall and even tho im never gonna finish it I thought yall deserved to at least get what I had because like idk i teased it you should get a little bit e ven tho it prob wont ever get any longer. Sorry. Its really fucking long cuz I was planning on breaking it up but i cant be bothered so if youw anna read it go ahead if you dont thats ok. Love yall!! <3
Published: October 31st, 2017
Word count: ~14,459 Words
{Also I haven’t read this since I posted it and I didnt edit it obvi so like its gonna be shit just be prepared.}
“Your highness, it’s time for you to wake up.”
Yoongi squeezed his eyes closed against the sudden light that surrounded him that he recognized as the maid opening the curtains of his bed chamber. He groaned and flipped onto his stomach to press his face into the pillow that had been under his head all night.
“Your highness, I’ve been instructed to awaken you.”
The voice came again, but it sounded closer. Yoongi sighed and removed his face from the pillow before turning to look around the room and spot the owner of the voice. His hair fell into his face and he could feel his loose sleep-shirt hanging off his shoulder.
The voice itself had been unfamiliar to Yoongi, but the face was definitely someone that he had never seen before. The girl that stood 4 feet from Yoongi’s bed, with eyes as large as the mood at his sudden movements, had hair that fell in curtains around her face. Her eyes were bright and, at the moment, full of...was it fear?
Immediately, the girl fell into a curtsey, her head bowed and her hair falling over her face. “Good morning, your highness,” She said quietly.
Yoongi just looked at the girl before him. “I’m awake,” he said in a monotone voice.
The servant looked up, “I beg your pardon, your highness?”
Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Your job is to wake me up. I’m awake.” She blinked. “You can leave now,” he finished with a pointed look.
Her mouth opened and closed before she understood his words and rushed out the door. Yoongi let out a sigh before the door flung open again and the girl was back. She frantically curtsied and flew out the door again, clearly still flustered.
Yoongi chuckled as he raised his arms over his head and began stretching, pulling himself into the world of the awake.
“Ah Yoongi, good morning,” An older man called from the head of the table as servant flitted around him, bringing and taking away plates from around him, constantly.
Yoongi looked around as he walked through the doors into the elaborate dining hall. The table before him could easily hold up to 30 guests, but only 2 places were set. He made his way to the end of the room before taking his seat next to his father. “Good morning, Father,” he responded as he continued to try to rub the sleep out of his eyes.
A servant placed a large plate of breakfast foods before Yoongi and he picked at it with his fork and knife, his mind wandering to other lands. “Yoongi?” His father called.
Yoongi continued eating, not hearing the voice calling his name.
“Yoongi?” He called, a bit louder.
Yoongi’s eyes cleared and he turned to look at the man next to him. “Yes, sir?”
His father looked at him. “Is your mind elsewhere, son?” Yoongi nodded reluctantly, his eyes apologetic. “Very well, but your first lesson is in Mathematics and I would advise against such daydreaming until World Geography.” Yoongi nodded reflexively as his father swallowed the last bite of food on his plate and stood up, his shoulders broad and strong.
Yoongi stood respectfully as his father turned to him. “Good day, son,” the older man said. Yoongi watched the servants bow to him as he walked out of the room, but as soon as the door was closed, he slumped back into his seat and resumed picking at his food, dreading the day ahead.
As much as he tried to hold it back, his mind eventually began to wander as his mathematics lesson dragged on and on. Mathematics had never been his strong point, and no matter how hard he tried, he knew that it would always be one of his weaknesses, not a good thing if you’re expected to govern a country someday and deal with it’s financials.
Every since Yoongi could remember, he could remember spending his entire mornings at lessons for anything and everything, changing every day. Supposedly they were all supposed to teach him how to take after his father, the King, when he died, Yoongi couldn’t even imagine his father passing away because of the strong grip that he constantly had on the country that had grown to rely on him for everything. If he died, everything would collapse...unless Yoongi was able to take over seamlessly.
“Prince Yoongi?”
Yoongi looked up to see his teacher waiting for his answer and his face grew red in embarrassment, knowing that his mind had travelled to a foreign land.
His teacher sighed.
The only class that could truly capture Yoongi’s attention was, contrary to his father, World Geography. Learning about the world around him and all the places, that he hoped to be able to visit someday, banished any other thoughts away, keeping his mind in place. From the moment he walked into the lesson, his teacher had his entire attention.
He walked out of that class, his last for the day, and slowly began to make his way back to his room until his sword wielding lesson in an hour. As he made his way through the castle, maids and servants here and there would stop their actions and curtsey, but none of the faces were familiar. The walk to his bed chamber blurred together and before he knew it he stood at his door, his hand on the handle.
Lazily, he turned the piece of metal under his hand and swung the door open. It took a few moments until his eyes registered the other body in the room, dusting the top of his dresser. His eyes widened at the sight, mainly because his room was always already clean by the time he came back, and he squinted, trying to see which servant had been taking so long at their job.
Her back was towards him and he couldn’t see anything except her long hair that fell down the back of her uniform. Impatiently, Yoongi coughed into his palm, trying to pull the girl’s attention towards him.
Immediately, the figure spun around, her mouth open in shock and her eyes as wide as they had been this morning. Her head dropped after half a second as she dropped into a curtsey, but Yoongi had already seen her face and recognized her as the maid that had come to wake him up that morning.
“Your highness,” Her voice cracked, clearly from nerves, “I’m so sorry, I’m behind schedule and haven’t finished with your bedroom.”
Yoongi looked her up and down as he focused on the rag in her right hand and the black smudges, presumably from his fireplace, that went up her left arm. Her head was still bowed and Yoongi rolled his eyes.
“What’s your name,” He asked as he began walking towards her.
With her head still bent, she responded in a surprisingly steady voice, “My name is Y/n, your highness.”
“Why are you behind schedule?” Yoongi asked, his voice flat.
Y/n gulped, “I–”
Yoongi interrupted her, “Look at me,” He said sternly. Slowly she raised her head and looked at Yoongi with the bright eyes that he had seen this morning, but now they shook with growing fear.
Slowly, she breathed out and started her sentence again. “I am behind schedule because I am not yet used to my chores, your highness.”
Yoongi nodded. “Are you part of the recently hired help?” he asked, his eyes studying her face for any hint of familiarity that could show that she had been here longer.
Y/n nodded, “Yes, sir, I started work yesterday.”
The boy took a step forward until he stood inches in front of y/n. Her eyes dropped immediately by reflex and Yoongi sighed. He leaned head down until his lips were centimeters from her ear as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to turn away. “Next time, be out of my room by the time I’m done with my lessons,” He said, venom lacing through his voice as his exhaustion that had built throughout the morning was released to an innocent maid. Y/n’s head snapped up as Yoongi took a step back, her eyes wide with fear and her lips parted slightly, like she was about to say something.
“You can leave now,” He said tiredly. He watched as Y/n curtsied, her eyes back on the carpet, and walked out the door, her arm still stained with soot.
A breath made its way out of Yoongi’s mouth as he fell onto his bed, letting his eyes close and his body melt into the cushions beneath him to rest.
Another unfamiliar voice snuck its way into Yoongi’s ears the next morning. The night before, he had been up late, and now his body was cursing him, begging for more sleep. “Your highness, it’s time to wake up,” it said.
Yoongi was sure that he had never heard that voice before and decidedly pulled his blanket up over his head, efficiently blocking out the noise. “Your highness?” The voice came again, a bit less timid and Yoongi groaned.
“Go away!” He shouted in a groggy voice from under the fabric. Frantic footsteps receded into the distance and Yoongi smiled at his small victory before turning and burrowing the side of his face into his pillow again.
Abruptly, the door to Yoongi’s bedroom opened again and slow, timid steps made their way to his bed. Convinced that it was the same servant as before, Yoongi groaned before throwing the quilts off himself and pulling himself into a sitting position, a snarl on his face. His hair sat in a knotted nest on top of his head and his undershirt was untied, showing the upper part of his chest and his collarbones.
Y/n jumped at the sudden movement and stared at the boy before her with wide eyes that Yoongi had grown accustomed to. Yoongi stared at them, blinking. Apparently they had sent in y/n to wake him when the other maid could not. Seconds passed as they stared at eachother before y/n dropped to a curtsey, her eyes back to focusing on her toes.
“Prince Yoongi, I’ve been sent to awaken you.”
Yoongi blinked at the first usage of his name with his title to come from her mouth and it took him a moment to compose himself, because every servant in the castle referred to him as “Your majesty.”
“I’m awake,” He said, repeating his words from yesterday, but with less bite in his voice.
“Very well, your majesty,” She said as she curtsied and left the room.
Minutes passed as Yoongi sat, with his chin in his hands, staring at the place that y/n had stood just a little while before. Before anymore servants could tell him to get up, he stepped out of bed and began to dress for the day.
As soon as Yoongi stepped through his door, his eyes landed on y/n standing just a few feet away from the door, her hands clasped together, her eyes lowered. Slowly, she curtsied without raising her eyes. “Your majesty,” She said, her voice steadier than normal.
Yoongi closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose before letting it out and opening his eyes. He raised his hand to rub between his eyes, already tired moments after waking up. “Wait until I’ve already left to go into my room to clean. Don’t wait at the door; I should never see you. Be invisible, y/n,” The prince said before brushing past her and started down the path to the breakfast table without looking back.
He’d only walked a few feet when he heard a small, “Yes, your majesty,” Come from behind him and heard his bedroom door open and close. A small smile appeared on his usually stoic face and a maid’s eyes widened at the change from a few feet away as she dusted the corridor’s ornamentations.
“Son?”
The king’s voice broke through Yoongi’s head on the third try and his eyes snapped up to his father’s immediately. The line of thought that had been traveling through Yoongi’s brain was immediately broken off. “Yes, sir?” The boy responded.
His mind had been traveling to the events of that morning, trying to piece together why he hadn’t just fired y/n when she clearly wouldn’t be able to perform her chores properly. Yoongi had never had any trouble firing insufficient help, but something about y/n restrained that reflexive reaction.
“What is it with you spacing out lately?” His father said impatiently, not bothering to continue with his previous thought.
Yoongi dropped his head. “I just have a lot on my mind at the moment. I’m sorry, Father.” The king nodded as he took a bite of food. Yoongi looked up tentatively, “What are my lessons today, Father?” He asked, curious as to why his father hadn’t assigned anything yet.
The king’s head sat, resting on his hands as he sighed. “Nothing today, Yoongi. Some things are going on and I didn’t have time to plan anything. Just study what you know, for today.”
Yoongi’s eyes widened at the unfamiliar response before a grin split across his face and he leaped from his seat. He quickly bowed to his father, and rushed out of the room, his body light and happy. Immediately, he made his way to the back doors, commonly used by the help, and ran through them, heading towards the stables. His breathing was heavy, but his heart was light and he hadn’t felt this happy or free in months.
A ragged breath tumbled from his mouth as he slowed to a walk and opened the doors of the stables. A man, tending to the horses, was the first thing in his field of vision. The man turned around, surprised at the sudden intrusion before falling to a bow.
“Your majesty, how can I help you today?” He asked, his eyes focused on the ground in front of his feet.
Yoongi’s heart continued to beat heavily as his wide eyes stared around the large building, its familiar smells filling his nose. “Where is Holly?”
The man straightened and nodded before walking down the aisle between stalls. “Follow me, your highness; she’s right this way, her morning bath has just finished and she has been eating well.”
Yoongi’s smile grew, a sight that the man was familiar with whenever a conversation was about the Prince’s horse. “Thank you for taking special care of her,” Yoongi said, bowing his head slightly towards the man in appreciation. The man’s cheeks filled with color at the kind words and continued walking.
Moments later, they both stopped before a large stall with a sign that read “Holly” on the door. Yoongi’s smile leaked into his eyes as he stared at the horse that brought him such happiness. Slowly he stepped towards the door that separated him from his animal, his face alight, and pressed himself against the bars. As if my instinct, Holly looked up from her eating to see the Prince at her door.
The stable hand stepped away, confident that the prince knew how to saddle himself up for his impending ride. The worker was always surprised to see this side of the prince whenever he came to the stables. He had heard of the fear that he struck into the workers in the castle, but every time that he had seen the prince, his face had been happy and lit with a smile; the worker felt honored to experience this side of the boy.
He turned to walk away when he heard the prince’s voice. “Thank you for taking care of her, again.” The boy’s voice was soft, and the servant turned to see him stroking the horse's face through the bars, his eyes full of adoration.
The man bowed before responding. “It is my pleasure your majesty.”
As the man disappeared into another stall at the other side of the room, Yoongi grabbed the key that hung by the door of the stall that he stood in front of and excitedly opened the lock. Immediately the door slid open and Yoongi rushed in to embrace his equestrian friend. Instead of backing away, as most horses would at the sudden movements, Holly moved just as fast to meet the young prince.
“Oh Holly,” Yoongi breathed against her mane as he pressed his face into the side of her neck, “I’ve missed you. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner, Father has had me busy with Mathematics and other classes.”
Holly snorted in disgust and a laugh tumbled from Yoongi’s mouth.
“I feel the same way, but he said I have nothing to do today. Would you like to go for a ride in the forest?” A whinnie of agreement met Yoongi’s ears and his cheeks began to hurt from smiling too much.
“Sounds like a plan.”
Holly stood completely still as Yoongi did his own work to prepare her for a ride. His father would let a servant saddle his horse for him, but Yoongi preferred to handle Holly himself.
Minutes later, Yoongi was atop his house, galloping across the acres of land that surrounded the castle, reveling in the wind that blew across his face and the feeling that he was free to ride wherever he wanted.
As soon as he disappeared into the treeline, the air around Yoongi became colder, combined with the wind that was created from the speed at which he was traveling and soon he was shivering, but didn’t dare stop. Holly wanted to continue as much as he did, begging for more speed. Although the stable hands fed and washed her well, she received very little exercise, usually in the form of a walk around the property–nothing close to this speed.
The path through the trees winded on the uneven ground, but both knew it like they knew each other. Yoongi barely needed to touch Holly to get her to go in the right direction. Half an hour passed and Yoongi could feel Holly growing tired under the intense running. Slowly he began pulling back on the reigns until Holly slowed to a walk, breaths tearing out of her as well as Yoongi. The sun hours away from high noon, and the air around Yoongi, dark by the intense foliage, was cool against his sweat covered skin. Holly walked for a few minutes until they came to a familiar clearing. As usual, Holly had grown tired near the same place she always did, and after a few minutes of walking they would come upon the place that Yoongi called home more than the palace.
As Yoongi dismounted, Holly nudged him impatiently. With a smile, the boy pulled out a handful of oats, that he had stolen from the stable, from his pocket and held them out to his horse. As a safety precaution, Yoongi slid the reigns over a low hanging branch from a nearby tree. He sighed, happily, as he turned to the large tree that loomed larger and taller than all the rest. Although all the trees in the clearing were ideal climbing trees, this was clearly the king.
Eagerly, he rushed to the trunk of the tree and became enveloped in its intense shadow caused by thick foliage. He untucked his shirt from his pants and shed his heavy, royal jacket before latching his hands onto the lowest branch, almost 7 feet above the ground, and pulling himself up to that his arms held his waist even with the branch.
Although Yoongi looked slight on the outside, the intense training working with swords that his father required had created muscles that disappeared under his daily clothes but reappeared in times of need. Even apart from that training, Yoongi himself worked out, longing to be stronger. Although he knew that no one in the palace would dare to endanger his life, he had heard of citizens and commoners fighting back to soldiers and endangering the lives of other royals.
Reflexively, Yoongi pulled his right leg up to rest comfortably on the branch that he had pulled himself up to. After this, most of the branches were fairly close to each other. As familiar and comfortable as a stairway, Yoongi made his way up the tree, staying close to the trunk and stepping on branches that were sturdy and stay away from those that weren’t. He had learned the difference through experience.
A breeze flowed around Yoongi as the blanches became sparser and sparser and the trunk thinned. What had started at a 5 foot diameter had become barely 2 feet wide. The wind that blew began to make the tree sway under his feet, a feeling that he had grown accustomed to through many adventures.
A few feet later, Yoongi came to the part of the tree where all but a few branches fell away. A large branch was in front of him and easily, he took a seat on it, completely comfortable. Through the minimal leaves, Yoongi could see the forest surrounding him and in the distance was the parapets of the castle, sticking into the sky. The wind engulfed Yoongi and he lazily closed his eyes as he wrapped his arm around the tree trunk to steady himself. To his right, a 90 degrees difference compared to the castle, Yoongi knew was the people’s town. None of the buildings stuck past the tops of the trees but from knowledge of the land’s geography and the obvious gap in the trees indicated its existence.
Ever since Yoongi had first seen the town on a map, he had wanted to see it for himself, and ever since he had see it with his own eyes from this vantage point, he had longed to walk its streets.
Time passed and soon the young princes hair had become a complete nest by the wind and the sun stood at high noon in the clear sky. Reluctantly, Yoongi began making his way back down the tree to the ground, hating every step from this safe space. Although getting out of the castle and into the forest was uncommon, he came here almost every time to clear his thoughts of the royal affairs that constantly hung over his head.
Although slightly out of breath, Yoongi felt relaxed as his feet hit hard-packed dirt. Immediately, he felt something tug on his hair and turned to see Holly walking behind him to follow his head and nibble his hair affectionately.
“Holly!” Yoongi laughed as he tried to reach behind himself and pull his locks free from her mouth. She only nickered in response and Yoongi giggled as her lips brushed against the back of his neck, touching the tickling part of his body. A laugh spilled out of his lips and he pulled out of Holly’s grip. He pulled the horse into an embrace with a smile on his face.
Languidly, Yoongi pulled himself into the saddle after feeding Holly another handful of oats. At a slower pace than they had traveled at on their way there, they set off to go back to the castle.
An hour later, Yoongi slid off the back of his ride and stood beside her heavily breathing frame. “Good girl,” He cooed at she led her to the closest stable hand, a familiar face, and handed her off to have a wash and be fed well after a final farewell kiss from her prince.
Relaxedly, the boy made his way to the front of the castle and walked through the door that were held open by a pair of guards, seemingly ready and waiting for his arrival.
As soon as he had stepped through the doors, the scents of lunch wafted up to his nose and his mouth began watering. He pushed the doors to the dining hall open and his eyes grew wide at the large display of meats and vegetables along with drinks and sweets. At the head of the table sat his father, already burying his face in an abnormally large piece of meat.
“Wow, Father this looks amazing,” Yoongi said as he made his way to his usual seat at his father’s side. The older man looked up barely focusing on his son.
“Ah, Yoongi you’re here” His father asked, a drop of grease from his meat making it’s way down his chin as he picked up his cup of wine and took a deep drink, his eyes glassy, seemingly unable to focus on anything before him.
Yoongi collapsed into his seat beside the older man with a smile and took a moment to respond. “It is gorgeous today, Father, the woods are beautiful as so is the sky.”
A tiny smile grew on the King’s face and they sat in silence for a few moments, the King clearly deep in thought as Yoongi began digging into his own plate of food.
Abruptly, the king spoke again. “I must go,” he said before standing up and stepping away from his chair.
Yoongi looked up, confused. Normally, his father spent much longer at the meals than he did, arriving before him and leaving long after. “Father?”
The king nodded, ignoring the questioning tone in his son’s voice, but even Yoongi knew that something must be happening for his father to act this way. He walked towards the door and before Yoongi knew it, he was steps away as it was being opened for him.
“Father, what is the schedule for the afternoon?” Yoongi called, just a second too late as the door closed behind his father’s figure. He fell against the back of his chair, confused by his father’s actions; usually at their lunch together, he would be told his schedule for the afternoon, similar to breakfast. He couldn’t remember his father ever just walking out on him during lunch without any information.
Every blue moon, the king would let his son have a morning off, releasing him from the grueling lessons and boring interactions. It was times like these when Yoongi would explore the palace grounds in depth or spend hours with Holly or just wandered through the most secret parts of the castle, but never before had the King left him an empty afternoon. Although his mind was curious as to his father’s actions, he wasn’t about to let an afternoon pass him by.
He stood from his place at the table and began to make his way towards the door. Servants avoided him as they began to walk towards the table to clean it up, their lips loose with gossip now that the king was gone. Normally he could ignore the gossip, but a familiar name caught his ear from the mouth of a younger woman as she began to pick up the plate of ham.
“I walked past Y/n today while she was working; she’s so behind I don’t think she’s going to make it here,” The woman said, shaking her head impatiently.
Her friend, a larger woman that had begun to clear the wine glasses tsked her tongue. “What a poor child, this is so important to her.”
Yoongi realized that he had stopped mid step while listening to the women’s conversation. Before they could notice him, Yoongi rushed out the door of the dining hall, his eyebrows furrowed.
The words slowly disappears from his consciousness as he began to walk towards his room, desperate to wash up after his ride, and excited to have the rest of the day to himself.
Happiness was coursing through his veins so intensely as he opened the door to his bedroom that he didn’t even register the second person inside when he walked through, closed the door behind him, and began removing his shirt to prepare to wash up.
He curled his fists into the fabric that rested against his shoulder blades and tugged the shirt over his head so that it sat in his hands in front of his torso.
A shriek sounded from the other side of the room and Yoongi jumped before looking up, surprised. A familiar girl in a maid’s uniform stood cowering against the curtains that sat to the sides of the large window at one end of the prince’s room. A feather duster was held in one hand while the other covered her eyes.
Yoongi’s wide eyes returned to normal size as he groaned. “Why are you still here?” He said as he casually threw his dirty shirt onto his freshly made bed.
Y/n kept her hand over her eyes before curtsying. “I’m sorry, your highness, cleaning the curtains has taken more time than I expected. I’ll be leaving,” She said before curtseying again. She removed her hand from her eyes, but kept it at an angle so as to shield herself from seeing him.
“Are you done?”
Y/n looked up at the sudden words from her superior, forgetting that he was shirtless and suddenly finding it hard to figure out where to look. “Pardon me?” She asked, her voice trembling.
Yoongi sighed, “Are you done cleaning the curtains?” He scanned the room impatiently, “Or the fireplace for that matter? It looks filthy.”
Y/n’s cheeks flushed and her breathing shook. “Unfortunately, Prince Yoongi, I have not finished either of those tasks. I am still unfamiliar with cleaning your bedroom and have yet to learn how to work effectively.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes and suppressed the way that his heart jumped when she said his name. “I could have you fired, you know. Most maids we pick have already learned this by the time they start. You should’ve been done long before I got here; what did I tell you about being invisible, y/n.”
Terror flashed across y/n’s eyes as she dropped to her knees reflexively, staring straight into Yoongi’s eyes. “No, your majesty, please. I need this job, I promise that I will do better in the future.”
Yoongi’s eyes softened at the girl’s readiness to protect her station and his mind flitted back to the gossip that he had heard in the dining hall. A breath escaped his lips, “Get back to work. I hope that you’re done by the time that I come back out.” He turned on his heel and walked into his bathroom before closing the door and pouring the already prepared and properly heated water into his tub. He finished stripping before stepping into the water and washing all the thoughts scattered around his head away.
As the time passed, Yoongi heard y/n’s actions in the other room through the door. At first he could hear her trying to get the dust off the curtains and moments later would hear the clang of a metal poker hitting the metal fireplace grate.
Although his bath was normally silent, the noise from the other room was unusually enjoyable, trying to guess what she was working on based on the different sounds.
Yoongi sighed contentedly as he fastened the front of his new undershirt closed and pulled a new jacket over it after stepping from his bath and pulling on trousers. His hand reached out to grab the handle of the door to his bedchamber but hesitated. Seconds passed as he stood, waiting for any sounds to indicate that y/n was still in the room as he knew that the sounds had stopped a few minutes ago. Finally, he turned the handle decidedly after taking a deep breath, and strode confidently through the door.
His eyes scanned the room, expecting to see y/n somewhere, dusting something, but instead only saw a flash of a skirt whisk through his main door and heard the door close.
Refreshed, he walked over to his window overlooking the garden and pondered what he could do for the rest of his rare free afternoon.
Yoongi’s hand wrapped around the knob of his door and he pulled on it, opening it reveal the hall in his wing of the castle. He scanned the hall around him and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that no one else was there.
Slowly, the prince walked down the corridor before turning down a hall and following the familiar path to a bedroom that sat unused in the opposite wing of the castle. The dining hall, his father’s bedchamber, Yoongi’s bed chamber, and the servants quarters were all in the west wing, and when he wanted alone time, Yoongi tended to either go to the forest, the stables, or the east wing.
His boots made no sound as he walked down the carpeted hall that he knew ran parallel to the face of the palace. If he was to peek into one of the many bedrooms on the right side of this hall, a window would sit across from the door and show the gardens that sit behind the Palace, but one of these bedrooms was not where Yoongi was headed. Occasionally, though, as he walked, he would hear the whispered voices inside one of these rooms. His excess of his time allowed him to stop and listen whenever he heard anything he wanted to listen to. Usually, the voices would just be complaining about their lack of a love life or how much their back ached from cleaning fireplaces, but at one point, he heard his own name.
“I can’t believe y/n has been sent to wake up the prince two days in a row,” The voice said, annoyance clearly lacing her voice.
Another, lower, voice was introduced, an equal amount of distaste evident. “Isn’t it like her first week working here? Who decided that as her job; I’ve been working here for years and I’ve only seen the prince’s face in passing.”
A gasp sounded from the woman with the higher voice. “You’ve seen him up close? I’m almost always stuck in this wing of the palace or in the basement, I’ve only seen the back of his head since arriving here two years ago,” The first woman whined. “That lucky bitch, it’s probably because she’s so youthful and pretty.”
“I’m youthful and pretty,” the deeper voice spat under her breath “The head maid is probably just giving her special treatment because of her mother.”
A sudden whack sounded and the lower voice whimpered. “What was that for?” It asked, clearly confused as to what it did to deserve this treatment.
“Shh,” The higher voice responded, wary of something. “We’re going to get in trouble for talking like that; we’re not supposed to know about it.”
“Well you didn’t tell me it was a secret when you told me.”
“You idiot, let’s just get back to work,” The woman with the higher voice responded, obviously not wanting to continue the conversation anymore.
Reluctantly, Yoongi turned his ear from the room that contained the two women and looked around the still empty corridor. He began walking again as he mulled over what he had just heard.
Two turns later and Yoongi stood in front of a lone door at the end of a short hallway. Tentatively he looked around him to confirm that none of the servants that continuously travelled around the castle were in sight before pulling the door open and ducking inside. He turned and gently pressed the wooden door back into its place until a soft click echoed around the room to notify the prince that it was closed again.
A breath floated out of his voice as he closed his eyes and breathed in the smells of the familiar room. Excitedly, he turned away from the door and scanned the room around him.
It was a relatively large room with couches scattered around the closer half of it. Amidst the couches were singular chairs to fill spaces and a few tables to set tea or plates of delicacies. In the second half of the room were various stands for sheet music and musical instruments scattered here and there, currently silhouettes because of the sun shining through the wall of windows behind them as it slowly made it’s way to it’s daily grave. Yoongi squinted as the bright light bounced off the white sheets that covered all of the furniture around the room.
Slowly, with his hand shielding his eyes, he walked through the various seats around him until he passed the midpoint of the room and began to walk among musical stands. The vast majority of instruments themselves were stored in another part of the castle and well looked after daily, but their stands and seats stayed in this room for conveniency.
Yoongi continued pulling himself through the room until he came to a large object, barely a few feet in front of the windows, completely covered in a white sheet; however, he didn’t need to uncover the object to know what it was. Through a multitude of visits to the West Wing, Yoongi had found this room to be his favorite place inside the castle.
His hand fluttered up to barely brush against the fabric. A small smile began to spread across his face; after moments of his hand hovering just above the object, he collected a fistful of fabric and pulled it upwards and towards him, causing a cloud of settled dust to be released into the air.
The sudden contrast of black against the white fabric that had been laid on top of it, combined with the warm yellow-orange light that was coming through the windows, as sunset approached, took the Prince’s breath away.
Impatiently, Yoongi rushed to take his seat on the small stool that sat in front of the grand piano. His breath rattled out of him at the comfort of his first love that he hadn’t seen in months. Hesitantly, his hands fluttered inches above the ivory keys as he sat, unsure of where to start again.
In a spontaneous motion, he pressed his naturally spaced fingers down onto their respectful places to create a chord. He breathed a sigh closed his eyes as he let the sound flow around him and echo off the walls of the large empty room.
Habitually, his hands began to move up and down the keyboard as his eyes fell to watch them move across the ivory. Chords and melodies floated out of the closed lid as the music was created on the strings and the notes bounced around the room.
Delighted by the rhythm that he was able to attain after months without practice, a smile spread across his face before he stilled his hands in thought, pondering what song he could play all the way through.
Immediately his hands rested in their starting places for Passacaglia in D minor. With just enough force to create a clear sound, he pushed his hands onto the keys in front of him and began to play. If the chords that his hands had created moments before had been evening sunbeams and new violin color, this song was the beginning of twilight and marble busts. The dark emotions portrayed in the notes gave Yoongi chills even as he played it years after he’d learned it.
Reflex began to take over as he fell into the rabbit hole of piano, his hands moving there they needed to without his command. His eyes closed and he only opened them to peek at his hands during an especially technical part.
His body felt like it was covered in a large warm blanket that the Prince was familiar with: the blanket of creating music. Whenever he played, his head felt lightheaded and his body felt warm and comforted physically, like the music notes were wrapping around his frame and producing heat.
So focused on the music that he was creating, Yoongi failed to hear the sound of the door being opened. Drawn by the unfamiliar sound of music flowing through this wing of the castle, Y/n had followed the sound to the end of this hall. Reluctantly, she had pulled the door open and walked in to see a boy sitting at the piano.
Having cleaned this room yesterday, Y/n was familiar with the layout, but she had not seen the piano uncovered at the time when she had been instructed to dust the tables.
The piano was still closed, but the sounds being produced from it were just as strong as they would normally be, and just as beautiful as the boy making them.
The sun had really begun to set within the past half hour and the golden light that flooded through the window encompassed the figure that sat with perfect posture in front of the piano. Their silhouette had a halo of light around them and y/n’s breath caught in her throat as she saw them. Unconsciously, she pulled her body towards the music, making her way through the room silently.
As she came closer, Y/n began to be able to distinguish features of the boy before her. His hair sat, slightly curly, in a short black mop; it looked damp but messy. His eyes were closed, and his eyelashes rested gently on the top of his cheekbones which stood out prominently on his pale skin.
His clothes had been drowned in darkness, but as y/n grew closer, she began to be able to distinguish the buttons and facets of his jacket. Her eyes strained to see the details of a small metal ornament on the left side of his chest; she was still multiple feet away, out of Yoongi’s field of vision and his eyes were closed.
She inched forward until she could make out the details of the metal piece and the rest of his jacket. When she did, she gasped and fell onto her knees, her forehead pressed to the floor.
Startled by the sudden sound, Yoongi looked around to see a servant, kneeling on the ground, in front of him with her face against the carpet and her hair splayed around her. He jumped to his feet, shocked by the sudden presence of someone else in the room and shouted.
“What are you doing here?” Yoongi bellowed. The figure on the floor flinched and began shaking. “Why didn’t you make your presence known? Why did you even come in here?”
When the prince’s voice ceased, his ears registered the sound of crying. He looked down at the small frame and realized that the servant was just a girl.
Seconds passed as Yoongi tried to regain proper breathing. When he had counted to 10 and his breath had returned to normal, he stepped forward until the tips of his shoes were inches from the hands of the servant. “Stand up,” He said, his voice calm and steady.
Immediately the cries of the girl grew louder. “Please your highness, I just followed the music I didn’t know that it was you until I got closer,” A small wobbling voice traveled through the hair that shrouded the figure’s head and reached her superior’s ears.
Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest. “Who are you,” He asked straightforwardly.
“Please, your high–”
“Who are you?” Yoongi shouted, his patience wearing thin. “Just tell me and I can figure out what to do with you!” Nothing in response. He sighed and resorted to another approach. “If you don’t tell me who you are, I’ll fire you right here and now.”
Immediately the figure shot into an upright position, still on her knees. She frantically brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked up to meet the Prince’s. “My name is y/n, Prince Yoongi, I am the servant that cleans your bedchamber. Please sir, you’ve met me multiple times and every time you have, you have seen my hard work, despite my lack of knowledge. I will become better.”
At the first moment of looking into her eyes, Yoongi had recognized her. His mindset of “firing this servant no matter what” changed as soon as he saw her.
He eyed her carefully, running over the event that happened just moments before. “How close were you when you heard the music?” He asked as he looked her in the eye.
“Pardon?” She asked, confused by the question. Yoongi was about to open his mouth to repeat the question when she understood his query. “Oh! Um, I was cleaning the room at the beginning on the hall and heard it only when I had walked back into the hall when I had finished; I couldn’t even hear it from inside the room.”
The prince breathed a sigh of relief and sat back down on the piano stool, brushing the hair that usually rested over his forehead backwards. Y/n waited, holding her breath, for the prince word that was law.
Finally, Yoongi tilted his head down to look at y/n and waited until she looked back at him. He couldn’t believe he was doing this when he had fired every other servant that had walked in on his playing; this girl was getting under his skin. “Do you promise to take what you’ve seen and heard tonight to your grave?” Yoongi asked, his voice low and serious as he tried to convey the importance of this to him.
Y/n’s eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly as she took in the words of her prince. Seconds passed as her brain worked to compute what he had just said to her until she finally understood, “Yes, Prince Yoongi. Of course I will.”
Yoongi flinched. “I will let you continue with your regular chores around the castle if you do that for me and one other thing,” He said slowly.
“Yes, of course, anything!” She responded as she rose to her feet and stared at the boy before her, paying attention closely.
He spun on his feet to face back to the piano before closing the fallboard over the keys and gathering up the sheet that had been on it before he had walked in. Patiently, he spread the fabric over the instrument until it was in the same state as it had been before his arrival. Y/n stood, waiting, for his response as she watched his careful and methodical actions.
Abruptly, Yoongi turned from the now covered piano to face y/n again. The sound of his footsteps were absorbed by the carpet as he made his way closer and closer to y/n. He was about to pass by her left side when he stopped, their arms right next to each other.
For the first time, Yoongi’s voice was unstable as he spoke to y/n. It didn’t sound like it was from fear or worry, but like he was shaken by something. Y/n held her breath as she waited for the Prince’s words to wash over her.
Yoongi didn’t even turn his eyes from the door in front of him as her spoke. “Don’t call me Prince Yoongi. I am your Majesty; refer to me as such,” He said, his voice wavering slightly despite his superior position. Without waiting for a response or looking back, he opened the door, walked through and closed it behind him, the sound of which echoed around the nearly empty room as a single girl stood, frozen, next to the grand piano.
Anger bubbled inside of Yoongi’s stomach as he practically ran through the west wing of the castle. Voices cut off as soon as they heard his footsteps in the hall, but he saw none of the heads sticking out of the doors once he passed with quizzical expressions on their faces, eager to gossip about the possible causes for his actions over dinner.
He stopped at the door of his bedroom, tempted to simply spend his evening in there, but was interrupted by his stomach growling, begging for food. Although he hadn’t noticed it before, Yoongi wasn’t surprised by this revelation. Ever since he had been a child, playing piano had caused hunger to arise in the young prince.
Defeated, he turned away from his bedroom door and began to slowly make his way down the main staircase to the door on the dining room.
As he walked through the door that was opened for him, giving him a walkway into the room, Yoongi’s eyes reflexively took in the spread, but stopped when they landed on his father. He sat, papers strewn about his place, with his head in his hand and his eyes wide as if the king was forcing them to stay open.
Yoongi was shocked at the sight; his father never brought work to the table. By dinner time, all of his papers were finished and gone, not to be seen until the next day. Clearly something was happening that was causing mayhem in the older man’s daily routine.
Slowly, Yoongi walked forward to take his place beside his father, a servant placing a plate of food in front of him as soon as he was seated. The king didn’t even look up at the new arrival as he continued to stare at the papers around him and take a small bite of the food from his plate.
“Hello, Father,” Yoongi said, trying to start a conversation as he began to consume the food in front of him. The man in front of him jumped before looking up, his hand on his forehead, barely registering his son before him.
“Oh, Yoongi, you’re here.” His voice was flat and emotionless as his mind was clearly elsewhere.
Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed as he scanned his father’s. “What’s wrong, Father?”
A sigh pulled itself from the King’s mouth and Yoongi’s heart ached to see him like this. Slowly, the king shook his head, clearly not willing to tell his son the woes of his heart.
Yoongi saw this action and clenched his jaw, annoyed that his father didn’t trust him enough with stress-causing information when he was next in line to the throne. “Father,” Yoongi said, a bite in the edge of his voice cutting through the stress that was strung between them
The day that had been meant to relax Yoongi and distract him from any other happenings had gone south. He had gone down to eat dinner with his father, tried to maintain a conversation and failed. Eventually he created an excuse that he had been busy all day and was extremely tired; somehow, his father had bought it.
Stars had already begun to appear only a short time since the sun had receded below the horizon. After leaving the dinner table, Yoongi had rushed to the hidden stairwell that wasn’t very hidden and raced up it until he reached the door that lead to the roof of the castle.
When he was stressed or confused, the prince tended to come up here at night to stare at the stars and let his thoughts into the dark and empty night sky. Usually the thoughts were scattered, coming from dozens of problems that had been building up until he could come to the roof and let them out, but this time they were all based on one person that wouldn’t leave his mind.
“Y/n,” Yoongi said into the atmosphere, more than a little bit of annoyance in his voice.
Abruptly, the prince sat up and rested his forehead in his hands. Why hadn’t he fired her? She’d given him enough reasons to, such as being behind schedule and going into rooms she wasn’t supposed to, but Yoongi couldn’t stand the thought of sending her away from the palace.
“She said herself, she needs to stay here,” Yoongi whispered to himself, trying to justify his actions the past few days, “You’re just helping her.”
However, this justification only led to more questions without answers. Why was he helping her? He was the prince and she was just a servant, he didn’t owe her anything.
Usually, Yoongi would spend hours on the roof, mulling over everything and letting his thoughts surround him until they became wisps of smoke and floated into the night, but tonight he couldn’t. Lingering on these questions was only serving to confuse him more and they felt like they were becoming solid instead of turning to smoke.
Impatiently, he rose to his feet and dusted himself off until his jacket was back to its original state. He turned to open the door to the staircase and walked through it, his feet making loud noises as they fell heavily on the wooden steps. As he neared the floor that he would exit at, he slowed and reduced the noise he was creating. Carefully, he pushed open the creaky wooden door that opened into the large corridor that connected to his bedroom’s hallway.
Although he had been determined to leave the thoughts on the roof, his brain continued to pick apart pieces of information and desire more pieces of the puzzle. He turned, his back towards the corridor, and gently pushed the door back into it’s place. A rustling of skirts startled him and immediately, he turned to see the maid that had created the noise.
She was older, and looked familiar. Yoongi assumed that she had been working at the palace for a while, mainly because the only time when servants were hired was at a young age or with credentials. The rustling had been made as she had lowered herself into a curtsey.
“Your majesty, is there anything I can help you with?” Her voice was soft and kind like a mother’s and Yoongi’s shoulders relaxed.
His reflex was to dismiss her without a thought and walk back to his room by himself, but a thought popped into his head. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth to respond, “Um, yes, actually.”
The maid looked up, her eyes wide in anticipation, waiting for his request.
Yoongi wrung his hands, wondering how to ask this bizarre question. “A-Are you familiar with a y/n? She was hired recently?” His voice stuttered as he asked the slightly awkward question to the servant.
A small smile spread across the woman’s face. “Yes, your majesty. I was the one that trained Ms. Y/n; she’s a bit of a slow learner, but I assume that after a few more days, she will become invaluable to this household.”
Yoongi stood, leaning against the door that he had just walked through, nodding as the woman talked. When she finished, his brain rushed, looking for another question. “What is her background? Why did she come to the palace?”
The maid looked down at her hands, the smile dropping from her face in seconds. “I only know a little bit of her background, your majesty. I know that almost all of her family died in the sickness that swept the country when she was a child, and that her mother is bedridden with another sickness; she plans to send almost all of the money she makes here back to her mother so that she can be taken care of. Ms. Y/n really loves working here.”
Yoongi finally understood what y/n had meant when she had told him that she needed to be here. The sudden reminder of the plague that had swept the country, years ago, made Yoongi shiver, his legs threatening to give way as he remembered his own repercussions from those days.
“Your majesty are you ok? Would you like me to escort you to your bedchamber?” The maid stepped forward, alarmed at the physical appearance of this prince. His normally pale skin had become ghost white, and his eyes went from focused to unfocused easily.
Yoongi blinked, pulling himself back into reality. Carefully, he pushed himself off the door behind him and into a standing position. “I’m fine,” He said, not looking at the woman before him.
She looked like she was about to step forward and help him anyway, but thought better of it. “As you wish, your majesty,” She said before curtsying and walking briskly in the opposite direction of Yoongi’s destination.
The boy listened to the receding footsteps, waiting until they went behind a corner, to reach out and hold himself up. Thoughts of the plague had been repressed and avoided for years, but now images, voices, and memories that he had no desire for popped up.
Desperate for relief, he rushed forward, his feet pounding on the floor beneath him, down the corridor and down a hallway until he came to stand right in front of his bedroom door. The familiar guard that stood outside looked at him concerned, but the prince only shook his head before pushing his way into his own space and closing the door behind him, effectively blocking out the world around him.
All at once, the darkness that had surrounded Yoongi all night lifted to a bright morning light. A groan pulled itself from his throat as he pulled the blanket around him up over his head, refusing the inevitable.
“Your majesty, it’s time for you to awaken,” An unfamiliar, strangely high, voice cut through the silence. The sound caused Yoongi to wince it’s sharpness. Hoping it would just go away, Yoongi laid still.
“Prince Yoongi?” The high voice continued, but Yoongi’s eyes flashed open. Another newbie.
Impatiently, Yoongi sat up, causing the servant to jump before turning to her superior and bowing. “Prince Yoongi, good morning!” The voice said, unusually cheerful so early.
Yoongi reached up and rubbed his nose beside his eyes, wearing thin so new to the day before him. The young girl looked up confused. “Prince Yoon–”
His patience snapped. “Get out!” Yoongi bellowed as he pointed towards the door. The servant’s eyes grew wide, but she didn’t move. Infuriented by her incompetency, Yoongi’s temper wore through. “You’re fired!” He shouted, pulling himself up to his knees, causing him to be taller than the servant that stood before his bed.
Tears began falling from the girl’s face, but Yoongi just stared at her, continuing to point at the door until she finally gave it and ran away, her face in her hands.
Aggravated, Yoongi fell back onto his mattress and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to rub away annoyance for how the girl had acted. Although this kind of action wasn’t unusual, Yoongi still reflected on it during the time he spent laying in bed, as still as a rock.
Quietly, the door to the prince’s room opened, barely making a nose against its hinges. Light footsteps padded against the floor, but Yoongi just squeezed his eyes closed, behind his arm that was now flung over his eyes as his blankets sat in ridges around him, and tried to ignore them.
The footsteps slowly made their way closer until he could hear them stop at the foot of his bed. “Your highness, I’m afraid that it is past the time for you to be awake.”
Immediately, Yoongi’s eyes flew open at the familiar voice. He sat up suddenly to look straight at y/n standing in front of his bed, her eyes on the floor, and her hands clasped.
“I see that you’re awake, your highness,” She said, her voice low and monotone, “I’ll leave you now, trusting that you can get out of bed by yourself.” Her voice sounded cautious and devoid of emotions.
The prince sat still, tempted to say something to y/n and pull her from her state of being frozen towards him more than normal, but decided against it as his hand fidgeted, longing to reach out.
“Thank you, y/n,” Yoongi responded against his better judgment, his voice as low as his eyes as he looked down at the bunch of blankets on his lap.
Without another word, y/n dropped to a curtsey before turning and striding out the door and closing it with sufficient force. Stilled by the sudden events, Yoongi couldn’t move. Curiosity was bubbling inside as he tried to figure out why y/n had been brought in to wake him up as a back up.
Gradually Yoongi stood up next to his bed and walked over to his clothes before dressing.
When he was finished buttoning the last button on his jacket and had done his best in pulling his hair into place. Lazily, he began walking towards the door, slowing when he heard voices talking outside of it. They were quiet and could only be heard from very close to the door, but they were there; Yoongi stalled his footsteps and quieted his breathing, trying to listen to the conversation.
“Why did you get y/n when Jess ran out crying?” A high pitched voice asked.
A deeper voice responded, “We can’t leave the prince unattended. For months, it would like multiple tries every morning to get him up, but in the past few days, he’s up as soon as y/n walks out of the room; however, from what I can hear, she says the same things as anyone else.”
“I don’t understand, what’s so special about her that Jess would be fired one minute and y/n come out unscathed the next?” the higher voice inquired, growing impatient.
A sharp gasp came from the other voice.
“What, what,” the high pitched voice said excitedly.
“Do you think,” The deeper voice said, slowly decreasing in volume, causing Yoongi to lean closer to the door, “something is going on between y/n and the prince?”
Yoongi bolted into an upright position, prepared to fling open the door right away when another response came from the higher voice. “Don’t be ridiculous; he’s a prince, she’s a servant, it’s absurd.”
Nodding, Yoongi stepped away from the wall that he had been pressed against, and grasped the door handle before him. All at once, he pulled the door open, causing the two women behind it to jump into their places and curtsey to the floor embarrassed.
“Y-Your hig–” The two women began their greetings simultaneously, but Yoongi pulled his face into a stoic expression before brushing past the women; They turned to watch him go before, without looking back, he flicked his finger towards the hallway to their right that contained a servant’s’ passage.
“Back to work, women. Less gossip tomorrow morning, please.”
Without uttering another word, Yoongi heard the women’s rushed footsteps retreat down another hallway, soon disappearing as he walked in the opposite direction.
Not in the mood for a large meal, Yoongi arrived at the doors of the dining room, but stalled outside. A few moments passed as he tried to decide whether or not to enter. He heard the boisterous voice of his father calling to servants through the thick wood and knew that if he entered, it would not be a short visit.
Decidedly, the prince turned from the wooden doors and began walking down a clearly less decorative hallway. Although the lessons that his father planned anew everyday were hard to find an order in, the one thing that was consistent was a Math class, first thing in the morning, every other day.
Slowly the undecorated hallway split off into an even smaller passageway with no embellishments on the walls. The walk was familiar, but not something that he was completely unaccustomed to. On the days that a full breakfast or a run in with his father felt like too much, Yoongi took this path as an alternative
Multiple turns and one flight of stairs later, Yoongi arrived at a simple door with loud noises making their way through it. Timidly, Yoongi reached out and knocked on the door, having learned that knocking yielding a safer result than just entering.
Barely a second later, the door flung open to reveal a woman with a kind face and an apron around her waist. When she recognized the boy before her after a moment of taking in his appearance, she immediately fell to a curtsey. “Good morning, your majesty.”
“Good morning, cook,” Yoongi said as he gave her a small smile.
Cook rose from her curtsey and scanned the prince, taking in his slight frame. “My, my, why are you so thin? Have you been eating the food at the dinner table properly? Why are you down here instead of up at the table i prepared so nicely for you and your father?”
Yoongi looked at his feet, feeling sorry for neglecting Cook’s meals the past few days. Although his adventures to the kitchen were few and far between, Cook always held a soft place in her heart for the young prince. “I didn’t want to have a run in with my father and wasn’t especially hungry. Do you think you could fix me up something small and fruity instead of hearty?”
Cook frowned at the simple request of a meal, but nodded all the same before opening the door even wider and pulling the boy over the threshold. Immediately, the sounds of the kitchen surrounded Yoongi. From one corner of the large cooking area, an oven door slammed shut, while from another a knife hacked away at slabs of meat.
“Hey, don’t cut the meat too thin!” Cook yelled to the latter corner of the room. A chorus of “yes, ma’am” returned to Yoongi and Cook’s ears a second later and Cook looked content.
Yoongi followed the older woman to the back of the room where a solitary table and cooking station sat, empty. He pulled a familiar stool out from under the table and sat upon it as he watched Cook roll up her shirt sleeves like he had many times before.
After setting her work space into order and pulling some ingredients out in preparation, Cook turned to Yoongi and rested her elbows on the table to look at him. “What do you want for breakfast today, your highness?”
Yoongi had told Cook to stop speaking formally to him after his first few visits to her kitchen, but even though she had stop most of the formal actions, she still curtsied at his appearance and referred to him as Your Highness.
Yoongi pretended to ponder, something he had already done during his walk to the kitchen, dreaming up everything impossible, knowing that Cook would make it possible.
Moments before arriving at the door, Yoongi had decided on his soon-to-be breakfast. “I want a berry tart with lemon glaze, cook. I’m dying for something sweet and sour,” You said, his eyes sparkling with desire.
Cook laughed and readjusted her apron. “Something so simple? Your requests are usually a test of my ability; are you sure that’s all you want?” Yoongi nodded and Cook smiled before walking away to gather the ingredients she would need.
As he waited, yoongi scanned the room around him watching the busy lifestyle of the people that worked to produce the food at sat daily on his table. More than a few of them would cast furtive glances in his direction and whisper behind hands to someone beside them.
Every time that Yoongi made his way to the kitchen below the palace floors, glances were always thrown at him, silently asking why he was there instead of in him elaborate dining room. No one had ever actually said anything to him, no one would dare, but Yoongi could translate the looks in their eyes well enough.
Suddenly frustrated, the young prince turned back to the workstation that he sat at. Gently, he rested his elbows on the wooden tabletop and looked to the side to see Cook rummaging through her storage for the right berries and the best flour for a flaky crust.
Minutes passed with Yoongi playing with the small amount of ingredients already on the counter before him. A few eggs rolled back and forth from one of his hands to the other, but he withheld his desire to attempt to juggle them when he knew that they would just fall and break. Finally, Cook came back her arms laden with fruit and other ingredients.
“Sorry it took so long your majesty,” She said, as she bowed her head. Yoongi shook his head, silently telling her that it wasn’t a problem, but still looked at her expectantly.
Cook sighed and looked at the boy before her with a grin. “Is it an eating or learning day today, your highness?”
Whenever Yoongi found time to return to the kitchen, the visit was one of two types. On days in which he was in a hurry, he let Cook make the dish herself without any interruptions; it was made fast and in his stomach just as quick. However, on days that Yoongi had more time or was willing to sacrifice his schedule, Cook was accommodating and would help him learn to make the dish by her side, hands on.
Yoongi pondered the options. Although he knew that his math lesson was soon, and his stomach begged for quick relief, Yoongi looked up at Cook and responded with, “I’d like to learn today.”
Cook nodded and began separating the ingredients into two identical sets. By the time she had finished, Yoongi had washed his hands and pulled on the small apron that Cook left around just for learning days.
Immediately, cook set to work, starting to organize and combine her ingredients. Yoongi watched for a second before falling in step behind her and working at a good pace, a step behind Cook at all times, looking ahead at what she was doing while simultaneously performing his own action.
Slowly, they combined their respective amounts of butter and sugar and other ingredients to create a mixture of wet ingredients. Cook looked over to watch Yoongi’s slow and methodical hands performing his actions and critique when needed. After the wet ingredients, they both worked on the dry ingredients, succeeding in creating a few dust clouds, mainly from Yoongi’s bowl, and making their black aprons partially white with handprints and “splashes” of flour here and there.
Although Yoongi’s bowl contained significantly less flour than Cook’s, most of which could be found on the work surface or on the floor, they progressed to the next step anyway and slowly combined their wet ingredients into their dry ingredients.
Slowly the time inched by until the tart pans sat hot on the countertop, golden brown around the edges and warm in the middle. Ignoring the ticking clock on the wall, Yoongi impatiently pulled out a small knife and began cutting into the tart that sat, tempting him.
The crust was sliced easily and soon a large slice sat on a small white plate, in Yoongi’s possession, waiting to be devoured. Hesitantly, he picked up a fork and cut a bite sized piece away from the rest of the sweet. He stabbed it, hunger threatening to take over, and pushed it into his mouth.
He smiled as the tart berries exploded in his mouth and sighed in contentment as the crust fell apart in flaky pieces. “Cook, this is amazing,” He said, his mouth half full of pastry.
Cook turned away from the oven to set the other tart beside the one that he had just taken a bit of. “I’m glad you like it,” she said with a smile as she looked at him, “because that’s the one you made, your highness.”
Yoongi coughed and covered his mouth to keep from getting tart everywhere. Immediately he turned to stare at the two tarts before him. They looked incredibly similar, but after a few moments, Yoongi could see the perfect pinches created by Cook’s hands on the crust of the untouched tart. His eyes widened as he looked at the one that he had just taken a piece from. Now that he knew it was his, he could see minor flaws here and there, but he was still shocked at the delicious pastry that he didn’t know he could bake.
Reluctantly, he looked up to see the face of the clock staring at him as he stood there, beside Cook, telling him that he was already 30 minutes late to his mathematics lesson.
“Oh shit,” He said, nearly dropping the plate of tart in his hand. Frantically, he placed in down on the counter before him and rushed to untie his apron before pulling it over his head.
He began running towards the door before turning to see Cook in a curtsey at his departure. “Send the rest of that to my room please, Cook,” he called before turning the corner outside the door to the kitchen and leaping up the flight of steps, two or three at a time.
From in the kitchen, slightly muffled, Yoongi heard a small “Yes, Your Highness.”
Yoongi began to retrace his steps that he had taken to the kitchen. His mind was on the Mathematics lesson that he knew he was already late for. If any of his tutors didn’t tolerate tardiness, it was his mathematics tutor, but Yoongi could care less; he would pick cooking over a lesson any day.
As his mind wandered, his feet carried him to the main entrance hall of the castle, suits of armor and tapestries lining the halls, the former seeming to be staring at him disapprovingly. His math lesson always took place on the other side of the castle, in the west wing on the first floor.
He slowed to a walk reflexively as he made his way through the entrance hall, its floor covered in a luxurious red carpet that his father continuously reprimanded him for running across. The door to the dining room, to his right, was silent and Yoongi assumed that his father had already left breakfast for his work room, filled with advisors. When the open space that surrounded him became a large hallway and the carpet underfoot changed to a dark purple, Yoongi broke into a jog again.
Doors passed him on both sides, some leading to bedrooms while others led to a library or a drawing room; all of their doors were closed except one. After a few moments, he passed an open door, sounds of annoyance flooding out of it. He passed by it at first, but curiously bloomed in his chest and he stilled. Hesitantly, he turned, looking from the door behind him and to his left, to the hallway before him, leading the lesson that he was already late for.
Cautiously, he moved his feet until he stood facing the door from which even more of a voice could be heard. “Oh come on,” it said, annoyance clear in it’s voice.
His feet moved forward without his consent, pulling him to the opening of the door, barely 9 inches wide, but large enough to look around the room with limited vision. When Yoongi stopped in front of the door, he slowly leaned forward to peer through the opening.
Across the room, holding herself up against one of the 8 foot tall windows, trying to clean as close to the top as she could, was y/n, slowly becoming aggravated with her height. Suddenly, she leaped, barely streaking the top pane of the glass, before falling back to the height of the pane second from the top. “Shit, this is going to put me behind again if I don’t pick up the pace,” she said, anger lacing her voice.
Yoongi stared at the sight of his home being cleaned. Although he knew that cleaning went on constantly behind the scenes, the more experienced maids had become proficient in keeping themselves hidden during their work, commonly by closing the door behind them after entering a room.
After recognizing who the voice belonged to, Yoongi involuntarily took a step back. His curiosity was satisfied, but he couldn’t help but think about what she was doing. Clearly she was behind schedule, again, and struggling to properly clean a room that she wasn’t familiar with.
“Ugh,” Yoongi heard y/n say. He turned to look through the door again and see y/n standing, massaging arm that had been stretching high above her head in an attempt to finish her job.
One half of himself said to turn and walk down the hall to his mathematics lesson and let her finish her job, or not, on her own, but the other knew that he’d already missed the majority of his class, and that if y/n didn’t finish this assignment, there was a good chance that her luck was out.
Without thinking, Yoongi’s feet began walking towards the door. He was surprised by himself, but once he got started, he realized there was no going back. Giving in, he pushed against the already partially opened door and it swung open, hitting the wall behind it.
Y/n jumped at the sudden sound and turned to see her superior striding towards her, a serious expression on his face. “Your highne–” Y/n started before being cut off by the prince.
“Where is another rag?” Yoongi asked impatiently as he walked straight past y/n figure that had already begun to dip into a curtsey. His comment was only met with silence. Slightly annoyed he turned to y/n, his head lolling to the side. “Listen, you’re not gonna get anything done hurting your shoulder from trying to reach the top of the window. I’m trying to help you get your job done on time; now where is another rag?”
Y/n looked up and locked eyes with the prince before pointing to a table a few feet away with a few cleaning supplies on it, unable to speak. Yoongi nodded in thanks before turning, snatching up one of the cloths before grabbing the back of a chair and pulling it to the window. After that chair was in place, he walked back to the same table and grabbed another of the same kind: simple and wooden.
When he finished setting them up, he turned to y/n and held out his hand to her still frame. “You’ve got to work with me if I’m gonna help you y/n,” He said, a hint of laughter breaking through the stoic expression on his face.
Y/n blinked before tentatively following his flitting eyes to his hand and reaching to place hers in it. Her heart was racing as he pulled her towards the chair beside him and stepped onto his own chair, prompting her to do the same. She followed his lead, slightly unbalanced, onto the slightly wobbly chair.
“There,” Yoongi said, letting go of y/n’s hand nonchalantly, “Now you can reach the top of the window.”
Y/n nodded and turned to begin to wipe the upper parts of the window clean, occasionally dampening her cloth with cleaning solution. She was slightly surprised when Yoongi turned as well to follow her lead. Thoughts ran around her head, most of them panicking about why the prince was doing part of her work with her when he was clearly royalty.
They worked side by side for a few moments before y/n turned to Yoongi, her head bowed. “Your highness, I can finish by myself. Please let me do the work.” She held out her hand for the rag that had still on the window before Yoongi.
A small smirk appeared on his face. “Y/n, you do realize that you are still behind right? I know the schedule of most maids and I can assumed that you’re supposed to be done in half an hour.” He glanced around the room, his eyes playful, “It’ll take you at least another hour to finish this room,” He turned to face her, her head lifted when he caught her, his eyes holding it up, “Unless I help you.”
“Your high-” Y/n started, but was interrupted when Yoongi gave the window beside him a final swipe and jumped down from his stool.
His back turned to her, he began dragging the chair back into it’s place. A casual look sat on his face as he twisted to face her, the rag still in his hand. “What’s left to do?” He asked, his arms folded over his chest.
Y/n stared him, knowing that his mind was set on helping her with her task, for some reason. Hesitantly, forcing herself to follow his wishes, she pointed to the uncleaned fireplace on the next wall of the room that she knew would take her the longest to clean. A smile crept onto Yoongi’s face as he turned to see where he was pointing.
“Now you’re getting it,” he said as he began to unbutton his jacket. Y/n’s eyes widened at the sudden action, her mind yelling, wondering how this action could correlate to cleaning the fireplace.
“Your highness!” Y/n yelped, jumping down from the chair that she had remained standing on, and covering her eyes. “What are you doing?”
Yoongi chuckled at the sudden actions of the maid before him and reached forward to grab her wrists and pull her hands away from her eyes. “Do you expect me to work in this stiff jacket? I could barely clean the windows because my arms are so constricted.”
Y/n blinked as the prince slowly let go of her hands and removed his jacket, revealing his white long-sleeved undershirt, slightly see through, tied at the front of the neckline.
Carelessly, he turned and threw the ornamental jacket onto one of the chairs strewn about the room and began to roll up his sleeves that sat hanging on the lower part of his wrist. Trying to remember the few times that he had seen maids cleaning his fireplace, Yoongi walked over and knelt before the grate as y/n watched from the other side of the room. He carefully reached forward and pulled the grate to the side, revealing the empty square where charred wood and ashes sat around a metal log holder.
Y/n stared at him as he sat, crouched, in front of the fireplace, clearly confused. Slowly, she turned and continued cleaning the windows. When she turned back a few minutes later, Yoongi sat in the same place as before, the grate off to the side, and his chin in his hand, clearly thinking hard.
A chuckle fell out of y/n’s mouth as she stepped down from the chair that she had been using and slowly returned it to it’s place at a small tea table. She only had the fireplace left to clean, which took the longest, and dusting to do about the whole room.
“Your highness?”
Yoongi jumped at the sudden address and turned to see y/n a few feet behind him, looking at his concerned. He rose to his feet and opened his mouth to respond. “Yes? I was just…” He stopped, not knowing how to continue.
Y/n sighed, wishing that she could send the prince away instead of worrying about his rank hovering over her every move with the ability to throw her out and any moment. “If you want to help, would you please do the dusting and I can deal with the fireplace?”
Yoongi broke into a grin, “That’s exactly what I was going to suggest,” He said, clearly trying to play off the fact that he had no clue how to handle the fireplace situation.
With a smile, he jogged over the the set of cleaning supplies that sat on the table that he had his chair from and plucked the feather topped wooden handle from the lot of items, smiling triumphantly.
He saw y/n shake her head slightly at his antics before taking his place crouched in front of the fireplace and begin to pull the charred logs into their place.
Her hair fell over her face, but she ignored it, seeming not to have seen it. Yoongi’s hand itched to replace the strand to its place at her back, falling over her shoulder blades. Chastising himself, he turned and began the work that he was using to distract him from thoughts of another mathematics lesson.
Twenty minutes passed, and Yoongi finally returned to the place that he had begun dusting at. He looked around the room at its shiny surfaces and sighed in contentment at his work well done.
Curiosity had always bubbled up in his throat when he walked passed maids carrying out their duties in the halls: he constantly wondered what their schedules and days were like.
Y/n sighed, having finished her job at the same time at Yoongi, and stood up and brushed off her skirt.
She turned, a deep breath having left her chest, to face Yoongi.
Hello, so I’m not actually dead. ThaNKS A HECK TON FOR 300 FOLLOWERS HOLY SHIT and here i am just to give you guys a little thing i wrote a long time ago because I dont have anything new right now. Read my little thing at the end of this post if you want it might help me out. Anyway i wrote this for a friend cuz we both love SF9 and if you havent heard their new song O Sole Mio 10/10 would recommend. Also, Happy Halloween my dudes!!
Published: October 31st 2017
Word Count: 557 Words
{Ye its pretty shitty but um yeah i have a part 2 so if youre interested in that then LET ME KNOW WOOO BYE}
“I can see right through you, Kang Chani, even if no one else can.” You spat at the boy before you as he let his weight fall against the wall behind him, his arms crossed over his chest.
He chuckled and you held your fist at your side, trying very hard not to punch him. “Darling, you haven’t see anything yet.” He pushed himself off the wall effortlessly and took two large steps across the room and stopped, 4 inches from you, his eyes steady on yours. “Aren’t you curious as to just what I can do? Would you like to see?”
You gulped and took a step back, putting more space between your bodies, but this just caused his smirk to grow.
“You’re a demon, Kang Chani.” You said quietly, your stomach turning at the thought.
He laughed and your eyes widened as his head was thrown back. “Oh no, darling, just a fallen angel. Very different really.”
You blinked and he stepped towards you again, bringing himself closer than he had been before you you’d stepped away. “Do you know what happens when you kiss a fallen angel?” You heart was racing at his proximity and your brain was running just as fast, trying to find any way away from the boy whose scent was invading your senses.
Again, you moved to step away, but both of his hands shot out simultaneously, wrapping around your elbows, the pads of his thumbs against the thin skin covering your blue veins. His eyes had closed partially, looking only at you. “Where are you going, y/n? Back to Jaeyoon, to tell him that you’re scared and that you want to go home? Or maybe you’ll warn him about me and conveniently, something will happen to me.” His smirk evolved into a scowl before your eyes.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you go y/n, not that you see me clearly.”
“Chani-” You started, but his voice covered yours easily.
“So informal, y/n. I’m used to you using my full name.” His voice had dropped an octave, and you felt like he was definitely closer than he had been a few minutes ago. “Kang Chani,” He said quietly.
You sighed, “Kang chani-” You were stopped again.
“Yes, darling?” his voice flowed like water over you and you inhaled impatiently.
“Let me go.” You tried to be as firm as possible, knowing that he was no older than you, but your voice still came out half broken in the middle of certain words.
He ignored you, tilting his head to the side playfully, his fake smile unable to hide the malicious face beneath it. “I asked if you know what happens when you kiss a fallen angel.”
You shuddered. The information of one of your high school classes came back to you in an instant. “You’re damned to a life in purgatory.”
Chani smiled at your knowledge. “Do you know what that means, darling? A life with me. Doesn’t sound too “damned” does it?”
Your eyes widened, and before he could tell what you were doing, you pulled away harshly from the boy before you. His left hand fell away, but his right slid from your elbow to your hand, holding you 5 feet away. Slowly he lowered his lips to your hand, a smile on his face.
Yknow what I wanna do? I wanna actually write a whole story and like properly finish it cuz damn im awful at that. Idk why people are still reading my Last Words and Vamp AU lol but dang i wish i could find something to really write about. If you have any ideas message me or like shoot me an anon idk but i need ideasssssss thanks -Katie
Choi Seungcheol was anything but flashy. Sure, he was attractive—but he didn’t flaunt it. He had a nice singing voice but he never belted his notes. He appreciated attention but he never pushed himself out there for it. He is charismatic but he wouldn’t lead unless you asked him to. So when he pulled away from his family clan and took in disowned young vampires, everyone had been shocked by his sudden rebellious act. But to Seungcheol it wasn’t an act of rebellion—it was just that he was fed up. All he had wanted was a new empire where he could be free from the ridiculous rules that had been set far before he was alive. He wanted rules that moved and shifted with the times—which is why he joined the Pledis clan and developed a sub family of by the name of Seventeen.
Did he regret leaving his powerful blood line behind? No. In fact, he was glad! Because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t ever have met the twelve other boys he called his brothers today.
[Warning: Dark themes, Mentions of suicide, Explicit scenes, Explicit language, Suggestive Themes. Read at your own risk.]
A/N: It’s been 5 months since I posted Last Words I’m SO sorry wow I’m sorta a procrastinating fiend. I would write a bit and then take a break for a few months and kinda repeat that and somehow it’s been 5 months. Wow. I can’t really promise that this will lead to more updates, but I’m here to tell you that I’m not dead. Also thanks for 300 followers; Happy Reading!
The beeping of his alarm penetrated his brain and Namjoon’s body reflexively snapped into a sitting position. A sudden flash of pain bloomed on the front of Namjoon’s forehead and a yelp made its way out of his mouth. His eyes flew open as his back curled and he clutched his head as it fell onto the mattress before him. He grit his teeth before sitting up and looking around, realizing that he had hit his head on one of the metal bars that ran across the bottom of the bunk above his own, holding up its mattress.
A groan sounded from above him and Hoseok’s face suddenly appeared, hanging over from his own bed and staring at Namjoon. “Why are you being so loud this morning? Bang PD-nim said we could sleep in and you didn’t turn off your alarm?”
Namjoon stared at the face in front of him before his eyes widened and he turned to hit the Off button on his phone a few feet away.
“Thank you,” Hoseok drawled as he returned to an upright position and fell back against his mattress, causing a loud thump to resound throughout the room.
Namjoon pulled himself up into a sitting position with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed; his mind was blank and his eyes flitted around the familiar room.
His mind was confused, but light. Had it all be a dream? He remembered waking up the other days and feeling like plans had failed, but all of that felt like it was worlds away. Now, he just felt refreshed, like he’d woken up from a long dream.
He shook his head and chuckled. It really had just been a bad dream.
The body on the bunk above him shifted and Namjoon decided to just leave the boy to himself, walking out of the room and closing the door quietly behind him. Taehyung stood in their kitchen, at the stove, messing with a pan and a spatula, a focused expression on his face. Namjoon walked up quietly and leaned against the counter next to the younger boy, with a casual smile. “Is some of that for me?”
Taehyung turned around abruptly from his position, still focusing on the eggs in front of him, to look at his hyung. “Oh, hyung, good morning.” He looked back at the food in the pan and gave a small smile, “If you want some, yeah. I made extra.”
Namjoon looked up from the food before him to give Taehyung a grin, “Thanks, Tae.”
The younger boy looked up and gave a nod.
Gradually the rest of the boys made their ways out of their rooms, Hoseok bringing up the rear, and prepared their own breakfasts or in pairs. The bodies seated at table rotated as people finished eating and others joined the group. Jin spoke up when everyone had finished eating.
“Bang PD-nim texted me because apparently Namjoon’s isn’t answering his phone, but he said that the schedule we had today has been cancelled and that we have today to rest before we start promotions next week.” He said with a smile.
Smiles broke out across the room and Taehyung clapped at the news. Immediately, chatter broke out between the boys, everyone planning their activities for the day. Jungkook turned to Namjoon, “Hyung do you want to go to the park for the day–” The younger boy’s voice was cut off by the sound of rain hitting the windows of their dorm, a strong storm erupting from out of nowhere. Jungkook laughed nervously, “I guess the park isn’t such a great idea.”
The boys around the room laughed at their youngest’s failed request. “I guess we’re staying inside today,” Hoseok said, a small frown forming on his usually happy face.
Nods came from all the boys in the room until Jimin threw his arms around Taehyung and Yoongi on either side of him. “Don’t worry, hyung, we can just all play video games or somethin–” The lights from the ceiling that had shone onto the face of the young boy suddenly went black, plunging the small living room into darkness, unfixed by the window on the wall because of the dark clouds covering the sun outside causing the mid-morning world to be as dark as night as the rain hit the window panes.
Yoongi chuckled, “I guess video games are out of the question as well? What is this, the curse of the maknaes? Maybe we can just definitely not eat ice cream all day?” Yoongi said as he stared at the ceiling in fake anticipation before acting surprised when his wish wasn’t denied.
“I guess it’s definitely a maknae problem,” Hoseok said as he laughed at the antics of the older boy.
“Funny guys, but we should get the candles out,” Jin said, assuming the role of the mother in this situation, “If the lights have already been out for a few minutes I don’t think they’re going to be coming back on anytime soon.”
The boys’ heads bobbed and they all got up to search around the dorm for the candles that they knew would be somewhere, but had never been found because of the lack of electrical incidents.
It was Jungkook who found the candles first, in the closet next to the kitchen where the vacuum was kept. “Found them!” He called through the dorm and waited as 6 boys came back from their places of investigation throughout the various rooms. Yoongi was the last to rejoin, coming from the kitchen, multiple boxes of matches in his hands.
Jungkook handed a large candle to each of the boys, with 4 more left over as yoongi distributed the matches. “Where ever you guys go for the day in the dorm, try to put your candle in a stable place so it doesn’t fall over or melt wax onto your hand. Be careful,” Yoongi said seriously as he stepped back to see the boys around him lighting their candles, spreading light throughout the small living room around them, their faces beginning to glow from the soft yellow light.
“C’mon, Jiminie, I’ve got some left-over coloring books, we can color since video games aren’t working. It’ll be fun!” Taehyung said as he slipped his box of matches into his pocket and beginning to walk towards his room, the soft light surrounding him, making it look like it was radiating from him.
A smile spread across Jimin’s face as he followed his friend down the hall with his own candle.
Jungkook shrugged before following the two boys that were barely older than him physically, but much younger than him mentally most of the time.
Namjoon just stared at the lit candle in his hand, watching the flame dance around the wick. All of his attention was on the flame that it took a touch on his shoulder to pull him from his stupor to look at Seokjin before him.
“Is there something you wanted to do today since we’re spending all day inside?” He asked, clearly at a loss for how to spend his time.
Namjoon blinked himself back to reality, but felt suddenly drained. “Um,” Namjoon said, licking his now chapped lips, “I’m kinda tired I think I’m gonna go rest on my bed for a bit.” Jin nodded and Hoseok and Yoongi looked up from their conversation to nod as well.
“Don’t worry, Joon,” Jin said as he clapped Hoseok on the shoulder, “I’ll make sure none of these youngsters bother you.”
Namjoon gave him a tight lipped smile before slipping a box of matches into his pocket and turning his back on the boys behind him, genuinely wanting to rest.
The door closed as Namjoon rested his weight against it and sighed, confused as to why he was suddenly tired. His hand reflexively held the candle in his fist just barely away from his body, and he hadn’t realized that the wax had begun to drip until a burning drop of liquid landed on his index finger.
A small yelp of alarm escaped from Namjoon’s mouth as he struggled to maintain a grip on the candle in his hand. He examined where the already cooled wax had been and winced when he saw a small red burn. Impatiently Namjoon changed hands holding the candle and brushed the cooled wax off on his jeans. The residual heat still stung and with a frown Namjoon stared at the spot of pain.
He considered going back into the kitchen to get some ice to cool it down, but decided against it as the pain began to subside.
Annoyed, Namjoon glanced around the room for a way to prop up the candle instead of having to hold it. Eventually he settled for placing the candle upright between two stacks of books with covers that could easily be cleaned from wax. As the candle filled the room with soft yellow light, Namjoon sat on his bed and sighed, trying to decide whether to take a nap to relieve his exhaustion or to try to write some lyrics that were buzzing around his head. Instead, his mind wandered to his hand that still sat with a red welt on it, the pain gone but the mark remained. The silence of the room combined with the lack of feeling compared to what had been felt by the heat of the wax was slowly driving Namjoon insane. He could feel his heart pounding, but he wasn’t sure why.
He glanced nervously at the candle on the desk a few feet away, his hand fidgeting, begging for some kind of stimulus. “What are you doing?” he whispered to himself as he squeezed his hands together. He bit his lip before caving and reaching to grab the candle that stood on his desk, taking it from is stable home.
Immediately he was hypnotized by the flame surrounding the wick and the heat that radiated from it. It smelled clean and simple, nothing like candles that most people put in their rooms.
Tentatively he reached up, his finger inches away from the flame that was so beautiful to him. He could feel the warmth being emitted from it, but didn’t dare go any closer, knowing that pain would follow.
He watched as melted wax that gathered around the wick spilled over the top of where it was contained and rolled down the candle’s side, slowly become more and more opaque until it stopped in its track, cooled and solid. Every few seconds a new drop of wax would follow a similar route and Namjoon just stared, fascinated by the simple events.
His hand fidgeted at his side, completely empty of its sense of touch as it simply hung in the air. Before he knew it, his hand reached up to meet one of the still transparent drops of wax as it travelled the path of many others. The nerve endings in his fingers fired at the sudden meeting with something so unnaturally hot; he sucked a breath through his teeth at the feeling, but it was better than feeling nothing in his unusually weak body.
Another red mark began forming on the tip of Namjoon’s index finger, barely an inch away from the other, each caused by different situations and emotions.
Carefully, Namjoon placed the candle back into its “stand” and pulled a chair over to sit in front of his desk. He rested his elbows on the wooden desktop and stared at the flickering flame that danced side to side even though no wind was traveling through the room. Namjoon assumed it was because of his light breathing. He held his breath for a few moments and watched the flame still, his assumption confirmed.
Curiosity sparked in his mind as on a whim, Namjoon tugged on a strand of his hair until it lay between his fingers, lightly colored from multiple dyes. He knew it was dry as most bleached hair was and he cocked his head to the side as he slowly moved it towards the flame. It was barely a centimeter away when the flame swayed towards it and caught it alight, causing it to disappear in an instant, swallowed by the fire like a fuse. Namjoon’s hands had already backed away from the flame reflexively.
His eyes widened and a tiny grin found it’s way to his face as interest and courage blossomed in his chest. Carefully Namjoon’s hand came up to sit next to the small flame, it’s heat flowing against his palm. He bit his lip as he slowly bent his middle finger inwards towards the flame, the heat slowly becoming more intense. The flame flickered against and Namjoon pulled his hand back, another red mark on his finger and fascination occupying every inch of his mind.
Namjoon squeezed his eyes shut and he rolled his lip between teeth. His heart was beating at an alarming rate, but not from fear. Slowly he returned his hand to its previous position, moving his middle finger towards the flame again, but resisting the urge to pull back from the heat. The white hot feeling spread across his fingertip, but he didn’t remove his finger from the flame as he tolerance slowly built while he bit his lip, enduring the pain that was for some reason addicting.
When the pain numbed and disappeared, Namjoon pulled his finger away and stared his finger, bright red, and completely white in some areas, throbbing dully.
“Namjoon-hyung?” A familiar voice floated through the door and Namjoon pull his hand away from the candle and place his hand under his leg in a split second, beginning to breathe heavily at the sudden appearance. A moment later, the door opened to reveal the youngest boy in the house, Jungkook.
“Namjoon-hyung do you want any food? Jin-hyung made snacks,” The young boy said, a smile on his face, lit by the candle in his own hand. Namjoon looked up with a small smile on his face.
He shook his head slowly, “I’m fine, thank you Jungkook. I’m just relaxing in here,” Namjoon replied, his voice shaky in his own ears.
Jungkook nodded and grabbed the door handle that had left his hand when he was entered the room. “Alright Hyung,” he said slowly before pulling the door partially towards him while backing out of the door. The door was half closed when his head popped through the opening again. “Are you sure you’re ok? We’re all out here together...do you need some company?”
Namjoons ears were ringing and his throat felt tight. “I said I’m fine Jungkook,” He replied, his voice raising. “Go...eat your food or something I really don’t care I’m trying to have some time alone. I never get time to myself with you and Taehyung always running around, just, please, let me have that!” His breathing was ragged and his voice had raised louder than Namjoon had meant for it to go, louder than Jungkook had ever heard it before. His head felt like it was stuffed with tissue paper and the ringing in his ears had only gotten louder as heat rose in his face. His patience was breaking and he couldn’t help but snap at the boy before him that had only come to check on him.
Jungkook’s face fell and his eyes immediately lost their sparkle as Namjoon’s voice raised to just below a shout. His eyes were flitting around the room, looking anywhere but his hyung’s face. His hand shook as he reached around the door, about to pull it closed.
“I’m sorry, hyung, I didn’t mean to upset you.” His voice was barely a whisper as he stared at the floor and began to close the door. A drop of liquid fell from his face to the floor just inside the door as Jungkook turned away and pulled the barrier shut.
The hollow sound of the door fitting into its place bounced around the room and Namjoon let his head hang. He gulped before climbing to his feet, letting the candle fall from his hand, and rush to the door. His heart pounded as his hands shook and tried to turn the lock on the handle.
His hands slipped four times as they tried to grasp the small turning mechanism that would bar him from the others in the room nextdoor. His other hand came up and grasped the wrist of the one doing the action, desperately attempting to hold it still until it finally snatched the piece of metal and turned it to its “locked” position.
Namjoon fell against the door, his frantic action complete, before burying his hands in his hair, trying to rid his mind of the sounds that bombarded his consciousness.
It wouldn’t stop.
The ringing came from every angle, and covering his ears did nothing. Black spots began appearing in his line of vision. 3 spots were on his bead, one right in the middle of his pillow. Another 6 were speckled across his dresser like stars in the night sky, their colors inverted: black dots on white rather than white dots on black. 7 dots altogether lay splattered across the walls. Namjoon’s tired eyes wandered around the room until he leant his head against the door behind him and stared at the ceiling. It was black. Namjoon blinked a few times, confused, but the black didn’t disappear.
His ceiling had been painted white, 3 weeks ago. He took his eyes off the ceiling and looked around the room again. The dot on his pillow was growing and within seconds his entire pillow became dark. The darkness on the walls multiplied until the dots that had been the size of marbles had become the size of basketballs.
Namjoon’s breathing quickened at the hallucinations. He hesitantly took a step away from the door that he had been resting his weight against and immediately regretted it as his knees buckled and his body fell to the floor. His eyes were open as he fell until his temple hit the corner of one of his tables on the way down and his vision collapsed on itself, going black immediately.
An acrid smell invaded Namjoon’s senses as his groggy mind tried to pull itself from the deep slumber of unconsciousness. His exposed arms felt warm and his legs, in sweat pants, felt too warm for comfort.
His mouth opened slightly, allowing easier breathing, but his lungs burned at the contact with sour air. Namjoon sat up suddenly as he coughed and spluttered on the air around him. His panicked breaths caused more painful air to enter his lungs, and soon he was hitting his chest frantically in an attempt to catch a proper breath.
He looked around him at the room that was unusually bright for during a blackout when the window was still dark with rain clouds. A small white candle lay on the floor, its wick under his mattress as its flame continued to burn. The blankets that lay upon the bed were flicking flames across itself, smoke floating up to the mattress above his. The blanket that had caught fire had seemingly also been touching a piece of furniture that was succumbing to the flames slowly. The air around him was grey and thick with smoke.
Namjoon coughed as more some was inhaled through his nose. Mattress was smoking like crazy, but no flames could be seen. Namjoon staggered towards the bed, reaching his hand out to grab onto one of the corners of the bunk bed to hold himself up, but recoiled at the heat that burned his palm upon contact.
He desperately leaned over the bed, hitting the flames in an attempt to put them out. His mind was like a broken record: going too fast and skipping over important thoughts. He coughed more as his face came closer to the flames and smoke, but his mind was only focused on trying to put out the fire.
He blinked heavily as his head began to spin from the grogginess of the recent unconsciousness and from inhalation of smoke at a close proximity. The room around him swam as he knelt down and grabbed the candle from under the mattress.
He was shocked to see that the once foot long candle had been diminished to barely four inches. His head spun, and he fell onto the ground, his back being held up by the metal from of his bunk bed while simultaneously burning his bath through his thin tshirt. He closed his eyes and gulped, trying to pull a breath from his collapsing lungs as the grey air around him was pulling into his lungs through attempted deep inhales.
His brain was entirely focused on his breathing as he pulled a deep breath into his mouth and exhaled all of it onto the dying wick of the candle. The quick expulsion of breath made the room spin and before he knew it, he was falling again into a deep sleep with curious and slightly frantic voices making their way through the door.
Jungkook’s Letter {June 31st}
An accident. That’s what everyone keeps telling me it was, simply an accident. “The candle must’ve fallen and caught fire to something when he wasn’t looking,” has been the string of words thrown at me for the past few days, especially when tears flood my eyes spontaneously as they tend to.
I know better, though. It wasn’t an accident and even if you didn’t see it fall I refuse to believe you didn’t let the smoke overtake you. I saw the look in your eyes just before you locked the door, it was madness and...such a small amount of terror that I’m not sure even you felt it inside of you. You were terrified and habitually pushing people out.
I shouldn’t have let you push me out. I shouldn’t have left and walked away from your door. I shouldn’t have left you alone. I’m sorry, Hyung, I know it’s partially my fault that I didn’t kick down the door in time when we finally saw the smoke.
The others refused to admit it. I told them what happened and they keep telling me it wasn’t my fault; they sound like broken records stuck on a loop and its driving me insane.
What drove you insane, Namjoon? Was it us? The company? The stress? Why couldn’t we help you? Why couldn’t I help you?
I haven’t told them yet, but I’m leaving Bighit and BTS. You’re the reason I came, and you’re the reason I’m leaving. I can’t stand not having you here, beside me. Why couldn’t you have stayed, hyung. I needed you. I need you.
Why did you leave me?
A/N: Again I’m so sorry for being MIA Thanks for reading!!
[I wrote and edited this for a submission somewhere that required under 1,00 words and just realized as i finished it today that the deadline was 10 days ago so now it’s for you!]
A smile was stuck to your face as you felt a reassuring hand of your fiance, Taehyung, on your waist, gently guiding you through the large doors that opened for you two and into the ballroom; your eyes were immediately bombarded with gold decor that covered the walls from corner to corner, floor to ceiling. Your eyes scanned everything hungrily as they went from the eight or so couples on the dance floor, to the crowd around them, to the table of refreshments in the back corner of the room that you knew would be visited by you multiple times before the evening was over due to the fact that your partner was known for his intense dancing.
You looked beside you and slightly upwards to see Taehyung’s side profile as he stared forward, doing what you had just done moments ago: scanning the room, taking in his surroundings in wonder. You studied his jaw, his earrings, but your eyes eventually stuck on the decorated piece of gold material that covered the upper half of his face, except for his eyes where two holes lay, just wide enough to reveal his chocolate irises.
In a millisecond, Taehyung turned and caught you staring before you could look away. The grin that you knew so well began to grow and cover his face. You looked away from his amused expression and decided to study his clothing choice instead. A sleek and simple navy blue suit hugged his figure, accentuating his broad shoulders with a gold tie at his neck, bringing attention back to the mask on his face. The both of you couldn’t help but smile at eachother as you descended the staircase, ignoring the stares from curious party-goers around the room.
As soon as your shoes touched the ballroom floor, Taehyung rushed forward, pulling you behind him into the dance of the song that had only started moments after your entrance; it was still early enough to join in. Your hand sat in Taehyung’s seamlessly and your grin spread even as the pain from your heels began to be forgotten and the adrenaline of dancing with your fiance took over, filling your blood. By the time the dance ended, your heart was already beating fast for multiple reasons: the vigorous dance that you had just executed without breaking an ankle, and the boy that stood before you, his eyes sparkling in happiness.
Small beads of sweat sat on your brow as you leaned against the refreshment table, restraining yourself from gulping down the provided punch as the pain from your shoes began to return. It had already been an hour since you had arrived to the ball and the slow dances that had opened the night had become faster dances that would easily knock the wind out of you if you didn’t know what you were doing. You had already participated in six danced; four of which had been with Taehyung and the other two with unknown men that you wouldn’t recognize if they were right before you.
A familiar figure appeared beside you and your smile resurfaced at the sight of the fitted navy suit and gold mask that had held your eyes almost all evening. You set your glass down on the table behind you were standing and lifted yourself onto your toes in order to press your lips against his cheek, leaving a slight red mark. His lips spread into a small, toothless, smile and you figured that somehow he was just as tired as you were, despite his dancing background.
“Taehyung,” You said as squeezed his hands a few time, trying to relax him, “Are you tired? Do you want a drink?” You asked, prepared to serve him his own cup of punch. He shook his head and your head cocked, eyebrows furrowed, desperate to find out how you could help him. “What do you need, dear?”
Abruptly, he pulled a gold-yellow handkerchief, that matched his mask, from his breast pocket and held it to his mouth. A harsh cough followed suit and he gripped your hand tightly as he tried to stifle the noise, causing a few sets of eyes to look over. Eventually, he looked up, while slipping the fabric back into his pocket and spoke quietly in a raspy and unfamiliar voice, “Can we go out for a moment?” He asked as his eyes that were unusually dark stared into you, desperate.
You nodded quickly, eager to comply in an attempt to help him and took his hand as you began walking along the side of the room towards the grand staircase. You pulling him behind you, but occasionally had to stop to apologize to the owner of a foot or dress that had been tread on in your rush to exit.
The doors opened for you by the doormen and you felt your partner take the lead. He began pulling you through endless corridors until the once loud and lively music from the ballroom had faded entirely and silence surrounded you. Your hand was held tight in his as he dragged you along, but it felt rough and unfamiliar, nothing like the puzzle piece that normally fit your hand perfectly. Your brain was working fast, trying to understand what was happening when you felt strong hands pushing against your shoulders until your back was flat against the wall. Your voice escaped, barely a whisper, into the air between you two, begging for comfort. “Taehyung?”
The man before you shook with harsh laugh before pulling off the familiar gold mask to reveal a completely unfamiliar face. It held darker eyes than you were used to and a smirk that was nothing like Taehyung’s smile.
“The name’s Seokjin, beautiful.” His voice was so drastically different from the boy that you had arrived with that you didn’t know how you hadn’t noticed it before. “Would you mind telling me where your little fiance is?” Seokjin asked, his eyes sparkling with madness.
