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수고 많으셨습니다 공연하면서 부기 빠짐..^^
[ENG]
Thank you for your hard work. The puffy face was gone while performing.. ^^
수고 많으셨습니다 공연하면서 부기 빠짐..^^
TRAD
Todos trabajaron duro y mientras nos presentábamos la hinchazón en mi cara bajó.
#Suga
©btsinthemoment
Chapter Six... Through Vampire's Den
Has no one ever told you not to rifle through old attics? Has no one ever told you that if you find old vintage rings that seem to have a mind of their own, the one thing you should definitely not do is to wear them? Well maybe they have, but it’s October 31st and you’re in desperate need of good accessories. And as such the next thing you know, there is a man named Yoongi in your bedroom and he insists that you’ve just married the King of the Otherworld.
▶ t/w: sexual content (briefly pls don't skip the chapter), mention of suicide, mentioned use of drugs, alcohol, cigarettes and brief descriptions of an orgy... I can explain
▶ word count: 5.2k
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There is only the moon in this world, you realize. When it’s daytime the skies are just light like the sun is too far up in the clouds to be seen visibly. When they're tinted pale yellow, on those days the temperature could rise so high that despite the presence of the sun, the land is grabbed by the sudden sweltering heat. Mostly it was somewhere in the midst of blue-grey scale, at night it was either really dark blue or pitch black with no stars, just the moon.
You and Yoongi, lazily observe the shapes of the gliding clouds, as Samy carries you across the shallow mire, created by the onslaught of rainfall. Another sky whale passes amongst the clouds above. Massive and majestic, it soars the skies, high over the treetops, giving a vague, lonesome cry.
“It’s looking for its family,” Yoongi notes, or maybe just mumbles underneath his breath. He was not prone to divulge things to you. “Probably got accidentally separated from a migrating group.”
The sky whale gives another call, so pitiful and searching you automatically stir to help it, but Yoongi tugs you back onto Samy’s shoulders.
“You can’t help it,” he says, uncharacteristically sad watching the creature swim away over the horizon.
It’s been merely a day since Brary and the small encounter with Taehyung. Whatever the cryptic conversation they had, seemed to have deeply upset Yoongi. He rarely replied to any of your remarks, providing only differently angled shrugs as a response. More than once you’ve caught him looking pensively at you, brows furrowed and fingers clutching at the line of his shirt, when he thought you did not see, alas Samy would always tattletale.
Samy settles you down when the bog runs out and you both can walk on the sturdy ground again. The sky is turning bluer and bluer, yet the trees begin to glow brighter, revealing many little homes nestled amongst the branches. Sporadic, migrating fae homes, leaving the mainland in search of warmer weather. Their wings couldn’t stand the cold. Only full-grown fae, the humanoids such as Yoongi who had no wings, to begin with, were not affected by the climate.
“Your hat has a hole,” Yoongi remarks as Samy waddles next to you, obviously slowing down their steps. They stutter, not used to the attention given by the Fae.
“Iiitt’sss bbbeeeeeennn wwiiittthhh hhhooolllleeess eeevvveeerrr sssiinnnccee Iiiii fffoouuunnddd iiiiitttt, Iiiii ccccaannnn’tttt affffoooorrrddd ttooo bbbuuuuyyyy hhhhhaaaatttssss.”
You and Yoongi exchange equally ashamed looks. Samy was a homeless scarecrow, hence their presence in a random field upon which you had stumbled onto. They said they joined you because of convenient travel. Supposedly they had some distant relatives living near the Wyvern peaks, adjacent plateau to the Imperial Court but you suspected it was merely an excuse to not be lonely anymore. You also suspected Samy wasn’t even a fully grown scarecrow. Some of their mannerisms seemed too childlike, for instance, the insistence on calling anyone who showed even an ounce of kindness, as their best friends. You felt that you did too little to equal the unabashed kindness Samy showed you.
“Do you want me to fix it?” Yoongi suggests simultaneously as you rifle through your bag for some more apples. Samy only looks amazed at your eagerness to help them
“Mine, mine, mine,” he whispers deliriously, biting deep purple marks in your neck. The twin dragon and tiger ring, adorned with brown gemstone forged of fire, gleams brightly against the night. He coils around you like a snake, leaving no space on your skin untouched by his hands. They’re coarse, worn from years of a sword fight and hard work but what kind of King puts in the hard work?
He pushes once again into you and you cry out in pain, thighs quivering from the strain. You’re tired and worn and so sad you don’t even know how to breathe. He slams into you, deceptively slow but hard, gripping your jaw so all of his court can hear your strained moans. The square is empty, not a soul in sight to witness the shameful act, but you know they can hear you. And you know it’s what he wants - to show them and to yourself of how things were supposed to be. No one would, could or should disobey the King, one way or another he would get what he wants.
“I love you, tell me you love me too,” he grunts amidst fervent kisses pressed against your nape. His hands, so greedy, pull you closer against his chest, afraid that should even the slightest of parting be left, you’ll simply disappear.
“Tell me you love me,” he presses on, voice waning.
He works your hips at an increasingly faster tempo, his fingers leaving bruises where he sinks them too deep. Something wet slides against your back. He’s crying, you realize timidly. At a moment like this… Curiously you let your gaze wander down and you see that your stomach bulges slightly at every push, the outline growing more pronounced after a particularly brutal thrust. You screw your eyes shut, his every glide, caress and kiss causing your heart to hammer painfully against your chest.
“Please, tell me you love me,” he begs, placing his large palm on your shoulder shoving you back down on his length, forcing you to take him all in one single movement. “Make it the most believable lie I’ve ever heard.”
You think if you’d say it, it wouldn’t be a lie. You wouldn’t be so sad if it would.
You wake up not with a start but with a languid stir. A thick jacket with a hood over your head rests atop your shivering body. It was a downpour outside and in the damp cold, the green material and the faint crackle of the nearby campfire was your only saving grace. You know it’s Yoongi’s without even seeing the fabric. It smelt of him. Simple, clean and nice. You snuggle deeper into it until a pair of hushed voices reach your hearing.
“Wwhhyy nnoot jjjuuussttt tteeellllll hhheerrrr,” Samy drawls obviously trying and failing to be quiet. You crack one eye open for a split second, just to peek at what they were doing. As promised Yoongi was in the middle of attempting to fix the hole to the best of his abilities, while Samy was sitting nearby, shuffling away from the flame. If one were made of straw, it would be more beneficial to not catch ablaze. Yoongi was focusing deeply on the patch he was threading but from the glazed look in his eyes, you doubted he was much present.
“She will not understand, who could,” he shakes his head.
“Ssseeemmmss ttooo mmeee yyoouu’rrreee ssscccaarreeeddd fffrriiieeennddd.”
“Of course, I’m scared! I just - ! Only now - !”
Yoongi begins to interrupt himself over and over again, trying to squeeze all that he felt in a singular logical sentence before he deflates once again, peering soullessly into the fire.
“Less than a week is all I have,” he whispers, “ I can do what I did before - fall headfirst and then lose or I can - ”
“Pppuuussshhh hheeerrrr aaawwwwaaaayyy?” Samy finishes gently. Yoongi sighs, agreeing.
“Yeah, push her away. It’s better, I mean who am I to her?! Nothing, no one! Just some guy ruining her life.”
“But you’ll end up ruining your life too,” Samy pries further but Yoongi lets out a barking laugh.
“So what? You heard her, Samy! She didn’t take the ring because she knew what it was or because she wanted to see her husband,” the title he pronounced with such vitriol, it was a surprise venom didn’t pour from his lips. “It was a mistake, a simple, stupid mistake on both parts. I’m done with this, by the way, try it on.”
You can hear rustling and Samy’s appreciative grunt.
“Ttthhhaaannnkkkk yyyoooouuuu, fffrrriiieeennndddd. Iii wwwwiiillllll tttrrreeeaasssuurrreee ttthhhiiisss.”
Then after a brief silence, Yoongi breathes again, voice dejected but resolute.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m fine, really. A thing like me is just not meant for love.”
No one speaks for the rest of the night.
You scarf down on the berries that Yoongi picked. When you first moved anew he pushed his palm underneath your noise, pointedly looking away. Confused, you mimicked the gesture in which he poured the food and stalked away, not bothering to return your “good morning”.
All three of you made your way around the Troll path in complete and utter silence. At first, you racked your brain for literally any conversation starter but after half a day of fruitless, feeble attempts you gave up as well.
It almost came as a miracle when a booming voice nearly knocked you down your feet.
“BRIDGE PASS.”
Gawking, you gazed up at the massive figure that for the better part of two days you thought was a mountain. Gigantic and made entirely of rock, it stood still, antlers so high, you had no doubt that they sheared clouds. Luminous forest was growing unto its body and when it gazed down upon you with eyes too small for its stature, you thought it was strangely assessing you. Where it had risen, now there was not a steady mountain pass but a deep drop into a giant chasm.
Peculiarly, Yoongi pulled the hair out of his face, displaying the scar as if it meant something and without further questions the Behemoth reached over with its stone palm and scooped you up, carrying over. You stood on its finger, head spinning as you suddenly found yourself transported many meters off from the ground. At the sight of the merest stumble, Yoongi quickly wrapped his hands around your waist, spitefully avoiding your eyes. On the first instinct, you bristled, metaphorically baring your teeth but then you recalled what he said.
“A thing like me is just not meant for love.”
And so you pulled away, not asking him of anything or forcing more of your company than he wanted. You liked Yoongi. In the short, weird span of time between worlds, he had made a stealthy seat around your even smaller table of friends. It was as easy as that - you liked Yoongi and if he thought he’d be better off… you were not naive or hopeful enough to prattle some empty sentiments of how everyone could be loved. Could be, but it didn’t mean they were. You had spent enough days and years watching the identical, crestfallen expressions when someone realized they were not wanted. You well remembered the rooms of Ms Witterman’s children’s home getting emptier and emptier until there was only you. Not taken or even left behind, just tossed away, waiting for something that will never come. Sometimes people were just meant to be alone. You were.
Maybe Yoongi was the same.
You wandered back to Maeve. How much time had passed for her back in the world of the living? Days, months, could be years… She’d miss you, she’d be worried but you know that in the end, she would be fine. She’d place some nice flowers for your empty grave, briefly wondering what happened but once she was out of the graveyard and the gates would slam shut with a piercing scream, she’d let you back to the ghosts and you’d be just a memory, a reminder for the next year. It was abrupt but not a new realization that if you’d die here and now, no one would care too much about it. No one at all.
“I would,” a disembodied whisper crawls up your neck, leaving ghastly shivers all over your body. You glance down to the ring, absently tugging at it. It was still lodged at the base of your finger as tight as ever, warming your hand as if it was held by someone.
“You okay?” Yoongi asks lowly and you’re met with an echo of that same hollow pain. The same lonely realization that the only constant in your life was ever only yourself.
“Yeah,” you force out.
He knows you’re lying but at the same time he doesn’t reach out to comfort you, he just understands and in a way, you’re far more grateful for it.
“Eeexxccuusssee mmee, kkiinnndd bbeeiinnggg, aarree yyoouu hheeaaddiinngg ssoommeewwhheerree?” Samy asks, anxiously standing near the godlike ferryman.
“TO WYVERN PEAKS,” the entity replies so powerful the birds and the faeries scatter all around, startled by the booming noise. Samy peeks back at you, perceivably nervous as they were shifting from one straw foot to another. You managed a weak smile.
“Go,” you reassure them, “it’s what you wanted.”
“But friends are going to the palace,” they mumble tearily, clutching the blue hat in their hands.
“You should do what you want, Samy,” Yoongi adds, expression softening. You can almost see something similar to a genuine, warm smile threatening to break out across his lips.
“Go, Samy, and when you’ll return you can write to me how it went.”
At the reminder of seeing their family again, Samy visibly brightens and gallops towards you and Yoongi, squeezing you both in an itchy yet heart-warming hug.
“Ssaammyyy wwiilllll mmiisssss yyoouu wwhhiillleee aaawwway bbbruttt Ssaammyyy wwiillll sseeee yyoouu aaggaiinnn.”
“Yes, you will,” Yoongi mutters shyly, his feet dangling in the air. You screw your eyes shut, nuzzling into the torn material of the dress and when Samy leaps into the palm of the rock giant, you accompany them with your gaze until even the Behemoth’s statuesque antlers disappear over the horizon.
The quieter Yoongi gets, the more the ring talks to you. During the first hours, it was a disembodied whisper floating vaguely around your periphery. Easily mistaken for wind or a stray fairy indulging in light mischief, but when it singled you out, you began to think better of it. What were short-cut words turned to full sentences and then into a long tiresome monologue before you broke down, lulled by the sweet-sounding but menacing tone. You didn’t have to answer out loud and in the empty space in which Yoongi only sulked on and on and on, all your thoughts were occupied by the King.
Quite literally.
After being given a tentative green light, he didn’t shut up. Ranging anywhere from shy, breathy whispers of soft poems to the lewdest growls that had your ears sweltering in red, he was chipping away at your sanity, coaxing you minute by relentless minute.
“You’ve got nothing back home,” he murmured in your ear, “that girl wouldn’t care if you disappeared.”
It was unsettling how he could read your mind and how intimately he wielded it against you.
“I would love you, I do love you. Would it be so bad to be my wife? To be loved by me all the remaining days in forever?”
He conjures up a picture of two of you settling in a beautiful garden. His face is, of course, hidden but you can feel his arms gently cradling against you as you leisurely enjoy each other’s company. Safe, content, but it’s not what you are. You push back, replying in earnest. A quiet, cold kitchen, empty bedroom with bare branches grazing painfully against window panes that is what you lived. The abandoned children’s home that was simultaneously too big for you and claustrophobic. Sensing that you wouldn’t relent, he turned to a much sorer subject - Yoongi.
He detailed exactly how Yoongi would die, what horrible fate would he meet if you kept dawdling. When you spat back, how exactly did he see this coming - marriage built upon a threat of murder, he only chuckled in response. Said he didn’t care why you’d give your hand as long as you just did. Yes, he was a monster but he’d be a gentle horror, purring in your lap and not sinking his teeth into someone’s jugular. But it wasn’t the King’s endless droning that in the end convinced you, it was Yoongi’s small, shivering stature.
It was raining again and the autumnal wind was unforgiving. You sat, terribly guilty, clutching Yoongi’s ditched green jacket as he sat away, trembling so hard, the chatter of his teeth echoed all throughout the mountain cave. He had made you dinner - a scrap of soup that warmed you from head to toe - mutely forcing it down your throat. He refused. Your weak human body couldn’t stand much, he said. You were made fragile. For some reason, you didn’t take much offence to what he said. Maybe it was the guilt talking or the treacherous voice that argued that if you were fragile, Yoongi was taking immaculate care. He didn’t eat though.
The little food that he made was a medium-sized portion and he sternly pushed the bowl (that you had questions about such as where he got it) in your hands, lacing his rough fingers over yours with a shaky exhale. You saw him standing there, against the backdrop of the night, starved and cold, vigilantly keeping a watch for any Imperial guards should Taehyung fail in biding you some time. As you watched, you didn’t feel just bad, you felt positively wretched and more so - undeserving. Yoongi was risking it all just to delay the inevitable for the sake of your comfort. You’ve done nothing but get captured and run around scared.
Pathetic.
You wondered if he would feel betrayed by what you’re about to do.
“Welcome back visitors to the vampire weather channel. Today we’ll be bringing you plenty of loud organ music, news updates and even some weather. Once again you’re listening to the vampire weather channel, your favourite and only radio channel of the Otherworld.”
The sleepy voice impersonator of Count Dracula switched off with a screeching static and it was replaced by a low pitched singing woman. You measured up the expansive gates, squinting at the drizzling rain.
The Fourth Vampire Den wasn’t the hardest to find, you only had to travel along the remnants of the Troll path and then haggle the talking barrel into extending one shrivelled bony finger towards the right direction. You waited until Yoongi fell asleep, draping his jacket over his chilled torso, weighing on maybe kissing his forehead but immediately thought against it. You could only hope he didn’t take it the wrong way.
The Fourth Vampire Den as it said in the infographic nailed against the gates, was the second-largest coven gathering in the Otherworld and was now entering the culmination of an event called the “Long Ball” a 28 day Halloween of non-stop partying. In the crowd, you could mingle quite well and this was the shortcut to the Imperial Palace - it laid behind the coven in the distance of a mere twenty-minute boat ride as the barrel creature had croaked.
“ALL HUMANS WELCOME IN OUR DEN. IF YOU WANT TO BE FED ON PLEASE GO TO BOOTH A AND SIGN YOUR TICKET, IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE FED PLEASE GO TO BOOTH B AND SIGN YOUR TICKET.”
You waddled towards Booth B. In it sat an elderly woman, smoking a long, red cigarette and with a raven perched on her shoulder. You make eye contact and she stares you down in that manner that all overworked, underpaid workers did at the end of their shift.
You lean down towards the few holes in the plastic cover.
“Hello, I would like to sign my ticket?”
For a moment she doesn’t move at all and you fret that she might be dead entirely, until finally, she slaps a paper form, pushing it towards you through the small gap. It is damp and you can spot the mould growing on its corners.
You fumble and the woman rolls her eyes while pointing at the small object stabbed in the wooden basis of the booth. You wrestle the quill out with an awkward smile. No one is impressed.
You quickly avert your eyes from her wilting stare, filling out the application.
ENTRY AND RESIDENTIAL FORM
Name: ________ Witterman
Place of origin: Sallington
Current place of residence: Don’t have one
Species: Human
Aim of the visit: To get to Imperial Palace
Spouse or a partner? Yes ✗ No ✓
With my signature below, I accept my own personal risk while in the residence of FOURTH VAMPIRE DEN and agree that the FOURTH VAMPIRE DEN cannot be sued for the liability of
Theft of personal items
Inflated price barters
CONSENSUAL loss of virginity
Accidental marriage or divorce
We advise you to keep your ticket on at all times while staying with us. Enjoy your time!
Sign here ________________________
You quickly loop your signature, uneasily tracing the words of accepting your own personal risk. You only had to get through, it shouldn’t be that hard, right? You think back on your earlier encounters - being pulled by the hair to the stake and yanked into deep waters by the mermaids. You’re going to die.
You push back the form towards the woman and she takes a long drag of her cigarette while eyeing suspiciously the written scribbles. You notice her halt to a single point, throw you a glance and then look back at the paper. She puts it down, closes her eyes shut, forehead wrinkling and heaves out an absolutely exhausted sigh.
“Fucking hell, why did it have to be me?”
You pick at your nails.
“Is something wrong?” you nervously ask.
She adjusts the cigarette between her teeth, puffing an expansive cloud of white towards the glass barrier.
“You’re the King’s new fad, right? I heard something about him getting married.”
“How did you know?”
She casts another judgmental glare.
“Honey, that ring on your finger is about as subtle as marching down with the whole imperial parade.”
You redden from her scorn.
“Well, I can’t exactly take it off,” you mumble to your defence but she is not interested in listening.
“Why the hell are you going to him, shouldn’t you be running away?”
Momentarily the gold heats to a melting point, enraged by the insinuation that you should avoid him.
“Well, I… I don’t think I’d end up very far.”
The woman grimaces. As you stand before her, the question that has been running through your mind ever since coming to the Otherworld rears its head and you try your luck. God knows Yoongi wouldn’t answer.
“Why is he called the King? If it’s an Imperial palace and Imperial forces, shouldn’t he be called the Emperor?”
The woman stares at you befuddled and you can’t help but feel that you just asked the most asinine question in existence.
“You’re joking, right?”
You can only shake your head timidly.
“It’s from his old nickname. The Mad King, he used to be called.”
Your heart drops. Lower than your stomach, lower than your feet, lower and lower to the very pits of Hell until you realize that you’re already there.
“He went through rebranding or something so the youth only fawns over him, how he protects us from another mermaid rebellion and whatnot. I’m personally old to remember the reign of terror after he overthrew the old emperor. No law can ever make me kiss his feet.”
You give a tepid "huh" and in the silence, the woman takes the opportunity to finish her cigarette.
“There used to be another one,” she says cryptically, the raven cawing at her shoulder and you furrow your brows.
“What do you mean?”
“Before he rebranded himself, he also had a bride.”
“What happened to her?”
“Suicide. Apparently, she drowned herself right there in front of the King in the palace well.”
Saying so she pushes forward a round sticker with a bold red stamp “DENIED” on top. Through a haze you press it on your shirt, tasting tangent flavour in your mouth. You can only vaguely mutter thanks for the information and enjoy her dry “here's to a lifetime full of happiness and love” when she sparks up another cigarette.
“Why did you do it, Yoongi? Why did you let me die?”
He doesn’t answer. How could he? But the nightmare doesn’t change and it doesn’t recede no matter how hard he tries to absolve himself. It burns his chest with a steady reminder that he was not a man but a beast. Yoongi wakes up screaming as he always does and when feeling the cold touch of decaying leaves, he almost sighs in content. Out here he’s alone, there’s no one to lie to or to explain. Just an old man with old regrets.
He rubs his eyes, pushing the jacket off him, not registering for a second that it should be on someone else. When he does realize, his focus sharpens and he stares at the depths of the cave. No one.
“Your Majesty?” he calls out, hoping to all that there is that you were just walking around but he knows better. And when he finishes running around calling your name until his throat bleeds, he loses it. Yoongi takes the bowl that he had haggled from a straying vendor and smashes it against the rock.
“It’s your doing, isn’t it?! You’ve been talking to her, you bastard?!”
The King looks back at him, grinning smugly, decked out in glitter and gold he sits uncaring of Yoongi’s heartache.
“Why do you have to ruin everything?” he yells, voice breaking even though he knows that it’s useless. “Why do you have to poison the things I love the most?”
The King makes a mockingly placating gesture, shushing Yoongi as though he was a kid throwing a tantrum over refused ice cream.
“What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours, isn’t that how it is, Yoongles?”
Yoongi is so tired he feels tears stinging around his eyes. He just wants it to end. Please just someone let him end this.
“Why is it never enough for you?” he whispers, trembling with rage. His nails dig deep into his clutched palms, drawing small drops of blood. The King, however, only cocks his head, amused by his torment.
“Why is nothing ever good enough for you? When will you stop?”
“I will stop,” the King hisses through a vicious smile, “when she’ll be mine. Finally.”
Yoongi gives a thoroughly disgusted groan, spitting at the base of King’s feet.
“Rot in hell.”
“Already there.”
Where your sight lands, there are bodies grinding against each other and you dare not to glimpse into the corners, where no doubt there would be more than sensuous things in the midst of unfolding.
The Long Ball as it turned out was just a codeword for a month-long orgy, gently addled with copious amounts of drugs and alcohol. You try your hardest to turn both a blind eye and deaf ear to the sultry atmosphere flourishing all around. The road ahead is not difficult per se. Just the main road, sandwiched between modern looking houses. There was even pavement and various neon signs. If you forgot enough, it could easily be mistaken for a lucrative downtown area somewhere in a big town, had it not been the very prominent unsheathing of fangs. To your surprise there are very few red stamped individuals, most of them bear the sticker “AGREED” and as such enjoy the full ride with whatever vampire was the nearest.
Some you recognize, like Bill Sandyman’s daughter, Lucia. You knew her only by association, as the girl who had the habit of jogging past your kitchen window while you were still drowsily inhaling some leftovers and coffee. At first, you worried that she was in trouble before you spot the green badge and the girl whose fangs are in her throat, giggles against her lips as they happily kiss. As you venture on, you see some old classmates, people you went to the store with and when they see you, they just give you this look. An undeniably loopy but still noticeable gesture of “hey, what’s up” as if your presence was not meant to be a surprise. Evidently, the residents of Sallington had more connections with the unnatural than the poor luck of being born in the creepiest town in the world. You wonder if you could find Maeve here but then purge the idea out of your head. No. No, right?
The road is blocked but there is a handwritten note that one could wind up on it again if they went through the backdoor.
“Filter” it exclaimed with an ominous whizzing neon, underneath which there was an incessant pool of people trying to get in. If it was this bad out here, you couldn’t imagine how bad it would be in a nightclub of all places. But what else is there to do? You couldn’t simply turn back, it’d be redundant. As such you queue up, fix your “DENIED” sticker firmly in its place and count your blessings that no one would spot the ostentatious thing sitting on your hand.
“The customer you are trying to reach is temporarily out of service. Please try again!” Yoongi smacked the bark, gritting his teeth and dialled the symbol for the tenth time. After three long rings, the connection was finally made.
“Taehyung, I’m going to fucking -”
“Yoongi you have...to… you have to be...here….attack. We’re...attack!” Taehyung screamed into the line before it cut dead and a cheery voice announces from up the tree branches.
“The customer you are trying to reach is temporarily out of service. Please try again!”
You can’t even hear your own thoughts from the bass and the moans and the screams. There are smells and steam and tastes clinging in the air that makes you feel more like a puppet pulled helplessly in its current. Even the ring sits silent and cold, offering no comfort or aid but you make one crawling step after the next, determined to get through. You can see the bright exit sign, it’s right in your reach, gleaming like a sanctuary above the bobbing heads but a very loud laugh turns your head to the side.
There is a man seated on the plush velvet couch. His purple suit is unbuttoned, opening up the space for the woman to trail red kisses down his chest. You shouldn’t be looking. You really shouldn’t be looking but something about him seems familiar to you. Like an old reflection or a distant classmate reunited after long years. But it can’t be his body that you’re familiar with or his blonde hair tousled between other woman’s fingers. Is it the column of his throat that is grazed by the outstretched fangs? No, you don’t think so.
It is only when he laughs, tickled as someone’s nose rubs against his ribs that you can pinpoint that peculiar expression. That bright, unfittingly childish smile that makes his eyes curl into crescents as he laughs like the world’s entire joy compressed into one, singular man.
“Jimin?”
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/./././
Only two chapters left, no telling though when's the update. I'm still reeling from the concert, even though I got to watch only some very laggy bits, so everything is mush, my brain included.
Tag list (open):
@sugaaddiction; @ggukkieland; @loveyoongles; @xjordynary; @alpacaparkaseok; @grandqueen1533; @xxsugababexx; @mayla548; @rumpucis
RM's weverse post..
"오늘 함께해주신 모든 분들
고맙습니다!
아쉬움이 많이 남는 오늘이지만
오랜만에다 여러분이 없어서인걸로
핑계를 대보도록 하겠습니다
얼굴 보고 만나는 날 !
더 멋지고 좋은 모습 보여드릴게요
사랑합니다이"
Translated :
"Everybody with you today
Thank you!
Today there are a lot of unreassurable
It's been a long time because you didn't have it.
I'll give you an excuse.
A day to see your face!
I'll show you a nicer and better look.
I love this"
Min Yoongi, Sir, calm the fuck down!
I'm kidding love, keep shining.
I just know bangtan is going to cry during the offline concert and we'll cry seeing them cry. It's just gonna be everyone crying of happiness after waiting for so long.
Jimin, running in with a scraped knee: Sorry! I'm here guys, sorry I'm late.
Yoongi: Who did that to you?
Jimin: Oh no, it's just-
Yoongi: Who did it?
Jimin: No I-
Yoongi: *grabs a knife* wHO DO I NEED TO KILL
