ARMY Advocates

When the cards were called there was a din of gasps and excitement, murmurs filled the room as people rubberneck their way to look at the table; at the hands that were produced from Lady Luck herself.

“Straight flush,” the umpire called, looking at the man displaying his hand with a smug grin.

On the opposite end of the table, the king started laughing, before throwing down his own hand to the mahogany wood. The crowd roared with excitement and laughter, a winner amongst them so early in the night.

“Royal flush,” the umpire called again dutifully. “Winner goes to His Highness,” he announced, spreading his arm to the side.

The losing man just smiled, chuckling along as everyone went to bow to the king. His Majesty waved his arms towards the crowd, smiling dazzlingly before bowing to his opponent.

“Another great game, my king,” the duke laughed before bowing.

“One day, Duke ____, you’ll be able to surpass me just yet. Your taunts are getting good. You'll be able to bluff your way through anything soon,” the king grinned, clapping the duke’s shoulder eagerly.

"You flatter me, Your Highness."

The two gentlemen descended upon the crowd, talking animatedly with the people before retreating to the king’s inner sanctum, conveniently situated on the opposite end of the ballroom they were just in. The duke poured brown liquid into two sets of glasses, chatting amicably with the king before setting the drink down. They raised their glasses before taking a sip, enjoying the bitter taste of alcohol after a game of poker.

“And what about our deal, Duke ____?” The king asked with a raised eyebrow, his glass still perched on his lips. “Is she ready to meet the prince?”

“My daughter is excited at the prospect. I have reviewed the terms of our agreement with her.”

The king looked shocked momentarily. “Has she no qualms about the arrangement?”

“On the contrary, Your Majesty, she’s quite excited to wed the prince.”

The two gentlemen looked out the window and spotted the duke’s daughter chatting with some other young ladies as they traipsed through the garden, sipping tea.

“If there’s nothing else, then, I will see you at the wedding ceremony in a month,” The king smiled, his eyes crinkling at the sight of his future daughter-in-law, the next Queen of Berna. The two clinked glasses; the deal had been struck.

This is everything you want. Status, power, a handsome husband to boot. All the lessons you’ve slaved over the years are finally coming to fruition. After tomorrow, you will be part of the royal family. It is still unbelievable when the scroll came, decreeing that you were chosen as the future Queen of Berna, and with more times than you can count on your fingers, you wonder why Prince Namjoon would choose you. He has a list of the most available and sought-after maidens in the entire kingdom and the honour landed on your lap.

You were grateful, of course. This was a chance for you to change your status in society. You were already receiving plenty of gifts and congratulations after the engagement announcement. Though prosperous, Berna is a kingdom filled with ancient traditions and the old ways, whether you liked it or not.

You weren’t sure when you caught the eye of the crown prince, but the decree came the night after the masquerade ball. You had danced all night with a mysterious gentleman in fine garb, though his face was obstructed with a full white mask, but he didn’t introduce himself as a crown prince. In fact, his name wasn’t Namjoon. His piercing brown eyes and his dark gelled made him look like a villain and no one had wanted to approach him; his imposing figure watching everyone from a secluded corner. With boredom fuelling your adrenaline, you stalked towards him that night.

“Are you alone, sir? Would you like to dance?” you curtsied towards the strange man.

The white pale mask gazed at you up and down, a stunned silence filling the air.

"My lady, it would be my honour," he said, voice full of mirth before offering you his arm.

You took his hand as he led you to the centre of the dance floor. You elected to ignore the pointed looks and whispers from the other socialites around you. You came to the ball to have a good time and after an uneventful night, you were finally dancing with someone. After a few rounds of dancing, when your feet are finally tired, he led you outside by the palace gardens. If your mother were near, she’d chastise you for leaving the ballroom with a strange man, but she was busy socializing with the other mothers.

You were glad you approached the man. The two of you laughed until your voices were hoarse and tears pricked your eyes. He pointed at stars, naming all the constellations, telling stories of its origin. You listened, fascinated at the way he seemed to know everything under the sun. In return, you point at the different flora that existed in the gardens and the meaning of each one. Though you weren’t sure what he was feeling, his eyes shone, and you feel proud, knowing you’ve impressed him. He was intelligent and funny, and you feel a small tug at your heart when the silence settles, the two of you finally running out of things to say.

“I’m glad you asked me to dance,” the mysterious stranger said coolly, breaking the tension. “I was getting bored out of my mind.”

“Same here! But, oh, where are my manners? What's your name, sir?”

“N- “ the man sputtered. You raised an eyebrow at him, did he not know his name? You wished you could see the face behind the mask, but he was resolute in keeping it on. “Yoongi, my name is Yoongi.” the man finally said.

“Well, Sir Yoongi, you seem to have had one too many drinks if you’ve forgotten your name,” you teased before introducing yourself. However, before you could poke at the strange man further, the clock chimed midnight, signifying that it was time for you to go. “I had a great time with you. Should the fates smile upon us once more, I hope we meet again.”

“Wait, before you go, take this,” ‘Yoongi’ handed you a small necklace, a dainty teardrop that glinted in the moonlight. It has a small stud where the corners meet, but you didn't have time to ponder at the strangeness of the object.

“Sir, I can’t take such a gift from you, we are not properly courted,” you rejected, fisting the necklace into his open palm.

“What if it’s a gift between friends?” he insisted, handing it back to you.

Drunk on the beautiful evening, you agreed and the man hurriedly looped the gift around your neck, his fingers lingering just a tad longer, causing you to shiver. You came to your senses and whirled around, hurriedly curtseying before leaving the man alone, underneath the moonlight in the beautiful palace gardens. Your hands clasp at the dainty necklace and your dreams that night were sweet, the two of you dancing slowly, bodies pressed close together intimately, the only two people in the world.

Your lips tug at the chaste memory, but it was foolish to think you’d see the stranger again. For one, you only know his first name and, second, you're about to get married to the prince of your nation. Your family had gasped around you when the decree was read aloud, surprise colouring each of their faces, all except your father.

“He must've been at the ball last night, watching you dance," your sister echoed your thoughts. There was no doubt Jina was trying to remember the faces she saw last night.

You too tried to find the handsome prince among the crowd, but the ballroom was suffocating with so many bodies that you must’ve missed him. Your mother went into a frenzy, kissing your cheeks before prattling onwards about the duties of a wife and wedding plans

After the decree, you find your peace being consistently disturbed. There were people all over and the typical one-year wedding preparation got shortened to a month. You were pulled in so many different directions that you had forgotten about the stranger you met previously, though you find yourself thinking about those eyes more frequently as the wedding nears.

“Yoongi,” you whisper to yourself, absentmindedly touching the necklace around your neck.

Your parents didn’t question the appearance of the mysterious necklace, thinking that it was a gift from the pile that was threatening to topple over in the sitting room.

Back in the present day, you shuffle in your shoes, trying to hold the bile that’s rising in your throat. You’re now standing in front of the throne room, waiting to be announced as the official fiancée for the crown prince. You are wiping your sweaty palms on your beautiful dress when your name is called. Holding your head high and taking a deep, shaky breath, you walk, and the doors open, eyes instantly turning towards your lonesome figure.

You can sense your smile faltering at the many faces turning towards you, but you keep your movements steady. You find your family out of the corner of your eye, your sister raising her hand to wave at you, and you ease your shoulders in response. Your eyes stare straight ahead, where the king and his son sit languidly on their thrones. You’ve only seen the prince from far away in formal balls and paintings and seeing him up close is breath-taking. The paintings don't do him justice. Every step you take towards the throne, you notice a new feature in his face. Prince Namjoon’s high cheekbones, his lips, his jawline.

And when you are mere inches from the foot of the throne, your eyes find his and there is an instant pull- a lock fitting into place. Those dark brown eyes seem so familiar, but you are a thousand percent sure you’ve never been this close to the prince before.

“Lady ____, thank you for joining us in this joyous occasion,” the king smiles and your eyes turn away from Namjoon as you regard His Majesty.

Forgetting your manners, you hurriedly fall into a deep courtesy, wishing the ground to open and swallow you up. “The honour is all mine and my family, my king.”

“Raise your head, child,” he murmurs. You do as you’re told, spine snapping straight and cheeks burning at the embarrassment that you are displaying. Curse the prince and his beauty!

“Please,” the king booms and raises his arms towards the people gathered in the room. “Enjoy yourselves at the festivities tonight. And to the young couple, congratulations on your marriage.”

Cheers and shouts erupt from the crowd and the music begins playing immediately. You bow deeply to the king and his son. “I’m sorry for my earlier embarrassment, I have brought shame to my new family.”

“Nonsense,” a voice you’re too familiar with responded. “You are perfectly fine.”

Yoongi? You whirl your head around to the source of your voice, unable to find the mysterious man that gave you a necklace all those nights before. Instinctively, you touch the pendant before remembering where you are, dropping to your side as you regard the prince.

Prince Namjoon casts you an odd look, his tongue pressing against his cheek and his shoulders tensing. You aren’t sure what the look meant, but before you can give it more thought, the mask of a regal prince is back on his face. He smiles – two dimples, you think to yourself – and offers his arm towards you. “Shall we dance, my lady?”

You loop your arm around his, your eyes boring holes into his beautiful face, feeling a strange sense of nostalgia upon hearing his voice. Prince Namjoon starts to dance with you, but when it’s time to switch partners, his grip tightens around your waist, a small sign that makes the other gentlemen scurry away from the two. The world slows as you look into his eyes, a small feeling of familiarity at the scene, but as your slow mind starts piecing together bits of information, the song ends and you part away, a sea of distance between your bodies.

“My lady,” he drops to a whisper. “I need to talk to you, I’m going to leave the room first. Can you find me in the gardens?”

Stunned at the sudden request, you nod and Namjoon smiles at you before disappearing. You are stopped by your family for a moment, but you manage to extract yourself, using the bathroom as an excuse, before you instinctively duck and hide your way towards the palace gardens. It isn’t until you reach the large arches that you realize the strangeness of the situation: How did Prince Namjoon know that you know the way to the garden?

Is this really the first time you’re meeting the prince?

It’s been a month since you’re at the palace gardens and your worries melt away when you stare at the blooming buds. The smell of so many varieties of flowers causes your head to spin and at the sound of footsteps, you hesitantly turn around.

“My lady,” the crown prince bows to you and you quickly scramble to return the courtesy.

“Prince Namjoon, why have you chosen this strange meeting place?”

Namjoon thinks for a moment, and offering his arm again to you, he guides you to the benches just outside the garden.

“I want to establish some boundaries in our relationship,” Namjoon finally says. “I know you’re probably not thrilled about this arranged marriage situation.”

You start to protest and Namjoon quickly raises his hand, completely cutting you off. “You don’t have to deny it, it’s okay. So, tomorrow, when you become my wife, please don’t ever hesitate about asking for space. We’ll be living in a palace together, but it’s huge. I work early in the morning, so we don't have to see each other much. And, of course, you’re more than welcome to roam around. Take lovers if you must, but be discreet,” he rambles, making you look away and blush at the latest comment.

“You have a lover then?” he inquires after witnessing your reaction, and your eyes snap towards him when you hear the sadness in his tone.

You start shaking your head – “No, my prince, I do not have a lover at all, nothing of the sort.” But as the words leave your mouth, your hand trails towards the necklace again.

Namjoon observes your behavior and there's a quiet storm raging behind his eyes again. You gulp in fear, trying to decipher what he’s thinking. And just like that the anger is gone and the mask he's carefully constructed falls back on his face. “Good – I mean, not good – I’m happy to hear that… I guess?”

Before you have a chance to process if you should, your body acts on your own. You laugh at his sputtering, wondering if he’s gone crazy. He says it’s okay to take a lover, but he doesn’t seem to like the idea itself.

“So, why do you say that you’re okay with me taking a lover when it’s clearly not the case? That is, if I may be so bold, my liege.”

Namjoon rubs the back of his neck, his eyes turning away from you as he grins sheepishly. “I just want you to have a comfortable life in the palace,” his expression turns sad again when his eyes find yours. “I know you have someone in your heart, and I want you to be happy, even if it means pretending to be a good couple in front of the masses.”

Your heart tugs at his confusing statement and you try to piece together the puzzle that is Prince Namjoon. Something about him feels so familiar, it was the fifth time you’ve felt a sense of déjà vu, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Maybe it’s the sense of finally seeing him up close after watching him from far away?

“Is that all, my prince?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. That’s it. We should probably head back. Shall we, my lady?” Namjoon asks, offering his arm once more towards you.

As the two of you walk, the conversation is light, and you confide in him all the worries you’ve experienced over the past month of wedding planning. He, in return, talks to you about the inner workings of the palace and the duties that are expected of you as the Queen of Berna. At the very least, you enter the ballroom again with your arm in your future husband’s, laughing at an inside joke between the two of you. Though you feel the eyes of everyone, it no longer causes you anxiety as you have found yourself a friend.

“To the bride! To the groom!”

The cheers explode as the church announces your nuptials and you are instantly whisked away towards the reception.

You and Namjoon are now in a great ballroom, greeting everyone from the empire and wishing them well. The night is young and the music is lovely and after some food, Namjoon takes your hand to guide you to the dance floor for your fist official dance as husband and wife.

As he twirls and spins you around, you notice the melancholic look casting shadows on his bright features. When your bodies close in on one another and he rests his cheeks on yours, swaying to the rhythm, he finally admits his ailments.

"I'm sorry you had to go through with this. Don't worry, when I'm king, this tradition will no longer affect the many daughters of the kingdom."

You open your mouth to speak and he presses a gentle kiss on your cheek. "I know there's lots you want to ask me. How about we feign tiredness and get out of here?"

Your eyebrows knit in worry as you dance to the rhythm of the music. One's wedding night is supposed to be merry, filled with alcohol and food, so why is your groom so down-trodden? Was he sick?

The night dies down eventually, people bidding the two of you good night. The two of you travel towards your home and are greeted warmly by the maids and butlers. They usher you into a room and without much fanfare, close the door behind them.

The room you're in with Namjoon is exquisite, a large four poster bed that could fit your entire family doesn't cover even half the area. There are lots of bookshelves and a tea table with two chairs, champagne in an ice bucket with some glasses its only occupants. The bed itself looks comfy, the type that will gently envelope you as you sink into sleep, rose petals covering the surface.

"Let's talk," Namjoon whispers, breaking you of your thoughts.

"We have to sleep together once a month, that's the tradition, but we don't have to do anything but sleep. I can take the floor. Breakfast can be done separately, but if you're ever lonely, please don't hesitate to call on me." Namjoon prattle on about the other inner workings of your arrangement.

"...And that's pretty much it. I know that my father will expect an heir soon, but we can just claim that we have been trying. You don't have to worry about anything as long as you're with me."

"Why are you deciding all this on your own?" your voice is much angrier than you intend, but as soon as the words come out, you realize you have been angry. Angry that he assumes this situation is somehow a burden to you.

"I-"

"My prince," you cut him off. "You have been deciding these terms and conditions without even consulting me. You assumed that I wasn't okay with it. You assumed everything about who I am as a person, and with all due respect, that is rude."

The two of you lock eyes, your chest rising and falling in residual irritation. Namjoon looks bewildered, rightfully so, and you assume it's because he's never had anyone yell at him like that before.

"I know we've only come to know each other only for a handful of hours, but I genuinely feel a friendship forming between us. Therefore, my prince, you do not have to shoulder this burden by yourself anymore."

You touch his cheek and the prince melts into your touch. "I'm scared, my lady," he admits, voice trembling with emotion. "I'm scared that this will be a burden - that I will be a burden."

The silence ticks into place, his words sinking into your heart.

"I can't promise you that I love you, because we've only known each other for a day, but at the very least, you won't be alone in this palace."

As the words leave your mouth, the masked man appears in your mind once more. With trembling fingers, the waves of nostalgia hit your body and you search his face. Could it be…?

"Since we're now husband and wife, please, call me Namjoon," his dimpled smile returns, but you can't quite meet it.

The gears tick in your brain and you reach out to grab his arm, face extremely close to his.

"That night, my li- Namjoon, that was you, wasn't it? The necklace… the mask…?"

Namjoon sighs in defeat, his features forlorn. After some time, all he could muster is a faint "Yes."

Time stops and you hear your heartbeat drumming in your ears.

"Why did you lie? Why did you say your name was Yoongi? Does he even exist?"

You feel crazy, like the world is in on the joke and you're getting laughed at. You should be thankful, the thoughts of that night and its possibilities helping you through boring lectures. But the memory feels tainted now.

"I'm sorry," Namjoon offers, but says nothing else.

You let go of his arm, taking a step back in disbelief. "You had a chance to tell me the truth. I… was this all a giant joke?"

Your precarious relationship is hanging by a thread. You had thought of him as a friend, but now, looking at the dark haired man in front of you, you aren't so sure. "Leave," you command, retreating into the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

When you finish weeping in the shower and go to turn out the lights to sleep, you can still see his sad figure in the room though the owner is nowhere to be found.

The maid that comes knocking into your room to serve you breakfast also brings you a large bouquet of pink carnations and lily of the valleys. You know without looking at the note what the flowers represent, you were the one that told him that night after all.

Repentance, a second chance, sincerest apologies.

Your heart melts at the bouquet but the memory still scars you. As you eat quietly in the comfort of the room, you ask the maid to fetch you a large vase and a pitcher of water.

You do not see Namjoon for the entire day and you are grateful for the peace and space. You read the many books he has in the room and as you return from your evening walk, you spot Namjoon sitting underneath a tree.

Your heart softens at the sight, but when you approach, you realize he is fast asleep, snoring softly with a paper and pen on his lap. You peek to see what he's written only to find lots of scribbles, random sentences, and words that make up a poem.

"And as she stood, laughing underneath the moonlight, the only colour in the world, everything else turned into a dull grey."

"She is light and she is love," another line read.

And in a page corner there lies your name, etched beautifully on paper. If his handwriting across the page is akin to chicken scratch, Namjoon clearly took his time to write your name as elegantly as possible.

Your heart melts, your anger disappearing instantly at the beautiful sight. Though you can't say you're truly, madly in love with him, you are beginning to feel the tugs of Cupid's arrow. You sit next to him, enjoying the breeze under the tree. His head falls on your shoulder and you smile, closing your eyes at his touch.

When you stir awake, the moon greets you with a wink and you realize you're horizontal, lying on the lap of… You sit up abruptly, losing your balance, about to topple backwards, before strong arms grip at your waist to steady you. "Whoa there."

You collapse into his chest, his arms hovering over you. You straighten back up, cheeks tinge pink from your clumsiness and a silence as thick as a wall falls between you.

"Hey-"

"Namjoon-" you say at the same time as he does.

There's silence for a heartbeat before he gestures for you to talk first. You take a shaky breath before launching off your spiel.

"I'm sorry for chasing you out of the room. Though I know there are plenty of other rooms to choose from, I'm sure there are rumors already spreading about the two of us. I'm not saying I would've grinned and beared it, but it was not nice of me to chase you out like that."

You wait for a few seconds before continuing - "You have been nothing but kind to me. I know all the rules you presented me with last night are just a way to protect me, but it hurts when you don't let me explain myself."

Namjoon winces at your accusation, his fingers playing in his dark locks.

"And I wish you'd just tell me you and Yoongi are the same person instead of letting me find out like this. We're husband and wife, til death do us part, so, even if we don't love each other, we have to at least be friends, okay?"

"I can't do that, ____." It's the first time he's uttered your name and it has never sounded as sweet and sad at the same time.

"I can't do that because from the very first time I heard your laughter, it was over for me. I like you. And I wanted to spend the rest of our marriage making you fall madly, deeply in love with me. As fate would have it, your parents and my father, the king, actually came to some sort of agreement. I wasn't the one who chose you. So, imagine my pleasant surprise to find you on the opposite side of the room when he announced our engagement."

"So, when were you planning on telling me that you're Yoongi?" you asked, an eyebrow shooting upwards.

"I was going to request an audience with you. Whoever was going to be my bride... I was going to ask them to cancel the engagement so I could admit it to you. Again, as fate would have it, I didn't have to break some random girl's heart," Namjoon explains, his eyes clear as he tells the truth.

You look deep into those dark irises, skeptical. Your lips form a thin line and you wait for a few more seconds, hoping to find more of an explanation.

"Yoongi is my best friend. He's the second prince of the kingdom of Urn. Actually, he was at the ball that night. I panicked and said his name because I didn't know how you'd react upon hearing the name of the crown prince," he rubs his neck sheepishly again.

All things considered, he was right to be cautious. You'd probably do the same thing if you were in his shoes that night.

"Why the necklace?"

"You were wearing a mask. I made a gamble to myself that the next girl I see wearing that necklace must have been the person I fell for."

"You know, I could've sold it, or have given it to my sister," you tease, giggling at the possibility.

Namjoon stares at you, mouth agape, before rubbing his hand on his chin. "I… didn't think that far."

"I can tell."

"There's something else… about the necklace, I mean," he mutters, pulling you away slightly.

There is a jingling sound under the plain sweater he's wearing. Glinting in the moonlight, is your teardrop necklace looped around Namjoon's neck. In place of a small stud in the corner of the tear, there is a hole. You realize joining the two teardrops will create a heart and the necklace is beautiful whether they're joined or separated, a perfect metaphor for the two of you.

The tense silence of last night is replaced by a new one, a comfortable silence only two lovers can share. You gingerly place your head on his broad chest, Namjoon tensing up at the touch. He resumes his breathing soon enough and hesitantly, he encircles your waist, pulling you slightly on his lap. Your ears pick up the fast beating of his heart and you smile, feeling incredibly lucky.

"My lady," Namjoon speaks hesitantly. "Can I… make the assumption that you have feelings for me?"

You sit up to meet his eyes, his chocolate irises sparkling with hope. Daring your body to move before catching up to your mind, you capture his lips, putting as much feeling behind it as possible.

I like you, Kim Namjoon, first Prince of Berna… and my husband.

You want to emphasize those words as much as possible as you tangle yourself in his embrace.

When your lips part ways, your lungs craving oxygen, you rest your forehead against his.

"Now, remember to be careful when you assume. You make an a-"

"Before such crude words come out of your beautiful mouth, come kiss me some more, my queen," he cuts you off with a chuckle.

And when your lips find his again, your heart sings for the crown prince, unable to believe your luck.

"Okay, you can do this. You can tell him. You're a confident, strong woman, and you can tell him anything," Jina, your sister, scolds you.

"It's your one year anniversary tomorrow, you have to tell him you love him. Has he said 'I love you' before?"

You nod weakly, refusing to meet your sister's gaze.

"Okay… what happened?"

Groaning, you bury your face into your hands. "I laughed, Jina. It was a wonderful evening and I was so happy and I don't know… the nerves got to me and I laughed because I'm an idiot. He moped for three whole days, heartbroken."

Your sister scrunches her nose in embarrassment, patting your back awkwardly. "Yeesh, you blew it. But, that means this will be all the more sweet! That's why you have to tell him now. Tonight."

You watch your sister in awe, impressed by the change in her demeanor as she gets older. Jina takes your hand, a silent confident energy passing through the two of you. Twin irises resembling yours look up to you, hopeful that you'll do the right thing.

Sighing in defeat, you smile at your sister. "Thank you, Jina, I'll tell him how I feel. Tonight."

---

The night is still young when you return from your date with Namjoon, giggling into the foyer kissing as soon as the doors close. Namjoon scoops you in his arms, bridal carrying you towards your shared bedroom.

Namjoon helps you out of your tight laces, kissing the expanse of your shoulders before he lets your hair fall back down. Steeling your nerves, you get on your tiptoes to envelope his lips with yours. He sighs at the touch, pulling you closer to his warmth.

"Namjoon," you whisper, pulling away. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you."

Namjoon's eyebrows knit into place instantly, frowning as his tongue pokes at his cheek. "Is everything okay?"

Your eyes well with unshed tears, you can sense the worry behind his eyes, but your muscles lock in place and your heart thumps wildly against your ribcage. You take three deep breaths, and before you chicken out again, you stare deep into his eyes.

"I love you," you whisper, words trembling with emotion as your tears finally fall. "I love you, Kim Namjoon, and I am so lucky to be your wife. I'm sorry I laughed when you told me you loved me, and I didn't say it because I was scared that I'd ruin it somehow."

You take a shaky breath before continuing. "But you have to know, you deserve to know. I am so lucky. I love y-"

Your sentence hangs in the air, unfinished, because Namjoon's warm, soft lips are smashing into yours. "I love you," he breathes into you, kissing down your neck and lifting you up towards the bed.

You wake up the next morning feeling exhausted from a night filled with emotions. The side where Namjoon sleeps is vacant, save for a little note and a handful of baby's breath. "Follow the white petal road," it reads.

You brush the sleep away from your eyes to find petals scattered on the floor, a path leading out the door. There are pink and red tulips strewn about the flooring and you pick them up as you walk, amusement lighting your eyes as the road leads you to a mysterious place. The petals end in front of the oak doors leading to the small ballroom.

You push the door gingerly and gasp at the reception. Your family stands on one side of the room, all in their pajamas, the king and queen on the other side, in similar attire as they wipe tears from their faces. You have never been more grateful for your silk pajamas that you decided to change into last night.

As you scan around the room filled with your loved ones, your eyes finally find their place in the center. Prince Namjoon kneels, in his glasses and messy hair, holding a box towards you. You have no way of stopping the tears as they fall freely, and you hiccup your way down the aisle towards him.

"I love you," Namjoon says shakily, voice thick with emotion as he opens the box. "My queen, will you do me the honour of having a more proper wedding; one where we can finally express our love towards each other?"

You nod, sobbing and sputtering, but you manage to whisper "Yes," in the end.

Namjoon wraps his arms around your delicate figure and your cheeks are wet from the mixture of tears between the two of you. Your lips find one another as your family cheers around you. After the proposal, you invite them to breakfast, a lively conversation instantly erupts, one filled with wedding plans.

And thus a new tradition is born in Berna, where young couples would renew their vows after a year of marriage, reestablishing their love for all of eternity.

He cracks one eye open to find you standing beside his lounger. The early evening sunlight streams through the strands of your dark hair and warms your bronzed skin, bathing you in a kind of golden halo. He gazes up at you, languid and content.

“I’m not passed out,” he argues with a slow grin. “I’m relaxing. Come relax with me.”

Hoseok doesn’t give you a chance to accept his offer, leaning up to grab your hand and pull you down into the narrow space beside him. You laugh when he wraps his arms and legs around you like a starfish, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“I’m just enjoying the perfect day,” he murmurs, nosing at the back of your ear, “With my perfect girl.”

“Flatterer.”

Hoseok can’t see you rolling your eyes, but he knows you’re doing it anyway. Just like he can’t see the way you flush and he knows you’re doing that, too.

“We should eat,” you say after a while, shivering when he strokes the pads of his fingers up the soft skin of one bare leg. “Grab something before we have to take the bikes back.”

Hoseok hums under his breath as he slides his palm up the curve of your thigh, boldly searching for trouble under the hem of your sundress. You bat his hand away and he laughs, hugging you tighter.

“Alright,” he agrees in a whisper, ghosting his lips down the nape of your neck. You jolt in his arms when he sinks his teeth into the curve of your shoulder, nipping playfully. “Just a quick bite.”

There’s not much difference between a sundress and a négligée is there?

Certainly not from where Hoseok is sitting, anyway.

He studies you as he rides close behind, watching the way your hair whips in the breeze as you pedal. One delicate sundress strap slips down your sun-warmed shoulder, exposing just a bit more of your back. Then the wind grabs a hold of your sheer skirt, lifting it just long enough for Hoseok to get a glimpse of the pretty white panties underneath.

God, he loves those panties.

Could stare at them all day, really.

But instead he forces himself to pedal faster and take the lead, grinning when you take note of his advance and glare. It’s for the best because while you think this is just some meandering evening ride, he’s the only one who knows where you’re really headed. For the best because if he falls off his bike and breaks his face because he’s too busy staring at your ass, the entire night will be ruined before it has the chance to start.

It’s quiet on this street just a few blocks from the shore.

Dolmeori Beach is rockier, more wooded than the beaches preferred by most tourists and that’s always suited Hoseok just fine. When he was a kid, he’d steal away when the weather was warm and hop the train here from Gwangju any chance he got.

It’s always felt like his place, his personal piece of sea and sand.

Pine trees loom high over the pavement, canopies so dense they block out much of the waning sunlight streaming down from above. The shade beneath the leaves makes the heat bearable, but it also makes it hard to judge the time. Hoseok steals a quick look at his watch.

Right on schedule. He hopes Yoongi followed his instructions to the letter.

“Hurry up, slowpoke,” he teases over his shoulder, and he chuckles at the sound of frustration you make as you pedal faster to catch up. It takes a few seconds for you to coast into position at his side.

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” you fuss, “Wanna clue me in?”

Hoseok turns his head to smile at you, sly like a fox.

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

The realtor had said the place would need a little love.

Turns out, it needs a lot more than a little. But Hoseok was able to see right past the weathered wooden porch and salt air-worn paint right away. When he found this place online, he knew it was the one.

He slows his bike to a stop as the two of you make your approach, taking note of the warm light that glows just behind the frosted glass pane in the front door. Looks like Yoongi came through.

“What is this place?” you ask, skidding to a stop beside him. You stand over your bike on tiptoes as you survey the house, brow knit in confusion.

“It’s a surprise,” Hoseok grins, hopping off his bike. He shoves the kickstand into place and offers you his hand, which you accept with a suspicious smile. “Wanna go in?”

“Yeah sure,” you shrug. “We’ve probably already stolen these bikes. What’s a little breaking and entering on top of that?”

Hoseok laughs, leading the way to the front door.

He cringes when the porch floorboards creak loudly beneath his feet, making a mental note to put that project next on his to-do list. You stand with arms crossed, watching silently as he crouches down to lift the mat at the front door, fingers feeling beneath for the concealed key.

You stop him with fingers wrapped around his forearm when he gets to his feet.

“Wait,” you whisper frantically. “We can’t just walk into someone’s house, Hoseok.”

He chuckles before leaning down to kiss the adorable confusion right off your face. Then he slides his key into the lock and pushes the door wide open.

“Not someone’s house,” he corrects, watching you peer skeptically inside.

You step slowly through the threshold and scan the candle-lit front room before turning to him with wide eyes.

“Our house.”

“You bought a beach house.”

It’s the third time you’ve said it by now, and not once has the hushed observation been directed at Hoseok. You said it when you brushed your fingertips over the freshly-dried spackle on the living room wall, said it again as you passed your hand over the base coat of stain on the mantle over the fireplace.

You say it again as you turn to him, jaw slack with disbelief.

“You bought a beach house.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok admits sheepishly, uncertain of your reaction. He tries to see the room the way you must see it now, candles and tools scattered across the tables, floors covered in drop cloths, cans of paint and plaster stacked up in the corners.

Yoongi had done a decent job of clearing up most of the clutter before he left, but judging by the astonishment on your face, he’s probably been romanticizing the mess in here.

He’d really hoped to have a lot more done the first time he brought you here, but he’s learned the hard way that some home renovation projects don’t go as smoothly in real life as they do on YouTube. The process has been a bit of trial and error, with a lot more error than he’d originally counted on.

“I know it doesn’t look like a whole lot right now,” he says, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck, “But it’s going to look great when I’m done. Yoongi helped me sand all week.”

You shake your head like you’re coming out of a daze.

“Oh my god Hoseok, no -- ” you vow with a shaky laugh, “ -- no, this is incredible. This is amazing. I’m in shock.”

“Yeah?” Hoseok grins, relief melting over him. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted -- ”

“ -- Wait,” you interrupt, one brow quirked high as you step closer. “You said… you said something important. You said this was our house.”

“Did I?”

You narrow your dark eyes at him and he chuckles uncomfortably, nerves kicking in for the first time tonight. The feeling -- and the occasion both call for more booze. Which he’s prepared for.

“Are you going to give me a tour?” you ask.

“Later,” he says. “After.”

“After what, Hoseok? You’re killing me slowly with all this suspense.”

“Hang out here for a second,” he instructs, ducking into the small kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”

It takes him no time at all to find the bottle of Moet he’s stashed in the fridge and the clean champagne flutes tucked away into the corner of his dutifully-dusted kitchen cabinet. He double-checks the contents of the box on the counter, making sure everything is in place.

Then he takes a deep breath.

Your brows lift in surprise when he walks back into the room with that box in his hands. You watch him set it down on the floor, saying nothing when he turns back to retrieve the champagne and glasses.

When he finally returns, you’re on your knees -- examining the package. Lips pursed thoughtfully as you press your fingers to the gold flecks on the fabric lid.

“Hoseok,” you whisper, flicking your gaze up to find his. “I have so many questions right now.”

You look so damned beautiful in this candlelight -- like you brought your golden glow from the beach indoors. Like you absorbed the sun’s rays and you’re emitting them now like some kind of superpower.

“Have a drink with me,” he murmurs, “And I’ll answer them.”

Something in the room shifts then; the temperature changes. The silly fun of the afternoon evaporates, leaving behind something heavy and heady. Hoseok knows you feel it too, when your half-smile slowly drops and you pull your lower lip between your teeth.

“Okay,” you agree softly, “Let’s have a drink.”

You watch him with those focused dark eyes as he pops the champagne. The drink bubbles over the lip of both flutes as he pours, on account of his haste and shaky hands. Then you take one of the glasses in hand and offer him the other, which he quickly accepts.

“To this surprise housewarming,” you declare, raising your flute for a toast.

Hoseok clinks his glass against yours, taking note of the way you watch him carefully over the lip of your glass as you’re tilting back the flute to take a sip. He decides he can’t keep you -- or himself -- in suspense any longer.

“You know how special you are to me, right?”

You make a face.

“Did you bring me to your new house to break up with me?”

Hoseok’s startled laugh turns into a cough and tears prick his eyes as champagne bubbles blaze a path up his sinuses.

“Yes,” he says dryly, once he’s managed to collect himself. “I figured dumping you by candlelight sounded like the most romantic option.”

You tip your head back when you laugh, light playing off the curve of your neck, your collarbones, the tiny gold pendant that sits in the pretty dip at the base of your throat.

God, he loves your skin.

Hoseok looks at you long and hard before lifting his flute to take a long drink.

“This is for you,” he says quietly, acknowledging the box out loud for the first time.

“What’s in it?”

“A human head,” Hoseok snorts, flinching when you reach over to pinch his leg. “Don’t be a pain. Just open it.”

Your eyes light with excitement as you smooth your hands over the lid and Hoseok can’t help but smile. But your excitement turns into confusion the moment you open the box and find the neat row of plain white envelopes inside.

“What is this?”

“Quit asking me questions,” Hoseok deadpans, pouring himself another drink. He tops off your glass, too. “And start at the front.”

You shake your head with a wry smile as you work the first envelope open, slipping your fingers in between the paper folds to fish out the contents inside. Hoseok sips his champagne as you produce the polaroid photo, head cocked to the side as you study it.

It was cold that day, he remembers that. You’d been bundled up in a pretty scarf and matching belted coat. In the photo, the mid-morning sun flares behind you, illuminating your profile as you squint up at a display of laminated menus.

“This is me,” you murmur, mouth quirking into a disbelieving smile, “At the coffee truck outside of work.”

“Yup.”

“We’d just started dating.”

“Yup.”

“How did you take this without me noticing?”

“Easy,” Hoseok laughs. “You stared at that menu for five minutes straight. I’ve never seen someone take coffee selection so seriously. Thought you were gonna order the most complicated drink in history.”

You roll your eyes but you laugh. So does he.

“Turn it over.”

You flip the polaroid over in your hands, eyes moving over the neat block handwriting on the back.

coolest girl i ever met

“This is the day I knew I liked you,” Hoseok murmurs, “Like, really liked you.”

Your eyes are a bit glassy when you look up at him now, the corner of your mouth tugging into a soft smile.

“You were that sure that fast, huh?” “Yeah,” he admits, scratching self-consciously at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I was.”

You move onto the next envelope, this time prepared when you pull out yet another polaroid picture. This one is harder to place, taken in the dark, mostly black but for a few splashes of vivid light.

“I don’t know this one,” you frown, ghosting your finger across one particularly colorful blur of red and gold. “I can’t make it out.”

You turn the polaroid over, looking once again for Hoseok’s neat block letters.

she’s into me

You laugh out loud.

“That was the lantern festival in Cheonggyecheon,” Hoseok explains. “I’d invited you, but you’d had plans, remember? And I was just going to get Yoongi to go with me but you called me last minute to say you’d decided to come.”

“I remember,” you say with a smile. “Yeri invited me to a movie, but I cancelled on her. I wanted to hang out with you instead.”

“Yeah, well that’s the night I knew you really liked me.”

“Cocky,” you smirk, reaching for another envelope. “But warranted.”

Your eyes light with recognition the moment you pull the next picture out. You’re crouched down at the edge of his mother’s koi pond, one finger making ripples on the surface of the water.

“First time we ever went to Gwangju together,” you muse quietly. “First time I met your parents.”

You flip the polaroid over.

pretty sure my mom loves her more than she loves me

“Okay, this might actually be true,” you tease, taking a sip of your champagne. “Your mom and dad love me.”

“Yeah, well that was the day I decided I loved you, too,” Hoseok chuckles. “The point where I kind of knew there was no turning back.”

You look up from the photograph then, eyes glassy with emotion when they find his. Candlelight flickering across your face as you look at him fondly.

“You still feel that way?”

“Hell yeah, I do,” he laughs, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Keep going.”

The next polaroid is a selfie of Hoseok in bed but it’s by no means sexual. There are dark circles under his eyes and his skin has a sallow tint. Next to his pillow, the bedside table is littered with cold medicine and empty cups.

“Is this when you had the flu?” you ask, flipping the polaroid over. The neat block lettering on the back confirms your theory.

she took care of me

“You were so pitiful,” you laugh, shaking your head at the memory. “Wrapped up in your blankets like a burrito. I swear, men have zero tolerance for discomfort.”

“I nearly died,” Hoseok protests dramatically. “But you dropped everything to come take care of me. That’s the day I knew you loved me, too.”

Your smile is brilliant now, open and sweet as you reach for the last remaining envelope. Hoseok takes another swig of champagne, slugging it down as you pull out the polaroid and study the image.

You are wearing your delicate sundress, leaned up against the wooden railing that separates the sand and rocks. Standing just next to your bike, nose in the air as you breathe in the salt carried on the wind.

“This is today,” you murmur, brows knitting together when you flip the picture over and find the back side blank. “And you haven’t written anything here.”

“Yeah, well,” Hoseok starts and stops, clearing his throat. “I haven’t had a chance to write it in yet.”

“Oh.”

“That’s the day I asked you to marry me.”

“Oh.”

You blink. Once, then again. Hoseok can hear the shaky breath you take in when your mouth parts in surprise. He sets his champagne flute down, sufficiently bolstered by the booze.

“So that’s what I’m doing right now. I’m asking you to marry me.”

You’re still mute with shock, eyes wide as they go from Hoseok to the picture and back to Hoseok again.

“But uh, the longer you don’t say anything, the less confident I feel about this entire plan,” he chuckles awkwardly.

You take him off balance when you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and your thighs around his waist. He keeps you both from toppling over with a palm flat to the floor, laughing as you pepper his face with kisses.

“So is that a yes?”

“Yes,” you sigh, pressing your lips to his temple, his neck, his jaw. “Yes. To you and to these amazing pictures and to this beach house. Yes to all of it.”

You pull away from him to grab the champagne, eyes flashing mischievously as you take a drink straight from the bottle. “Yes to champagne, too.”

Hoseok feigns shock. “Naughty.”

You kiss him deeply then, thoroughly, enough for him to feel the remnants of the carbonation on your tongue. You tease him with a barely there roll of your hips and his cock responds instantaneously, at the mercy of the warm friction he can feel straight through the thin material of his board shorts.

“You know what I’m thinking?” you murmur against his mouth.

“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah,” Hoseok chuckles, sucking a breath between his teeth when you bite the skin just below his ear.

“We have a lot to celebrate, right?” you reason, tone light. “But we came here for a housewarming.”

You lean back just far enough to pull your sundress over your head, tossing it carelessly aside, leaving you in nothing but those pretty white panties he loves so much.

“So we should warm it.”

Hoseok grins, pulling the champagne bottle out of your grip. He turns it up just like you did, finishing what’s left before setting it back down.

“I like the way you think.”

The only bedroom in this house is buried beneath a two-inch thick layer of sawdust right now.

Not that making it to a bedroom seems high on your list of priorities.

The fact that you’re both sitting on top of a drop cloth on Hoseok’s living room floor isn’t stopping you from threading your fingers into his hair, slipping your tongue into his mouth, grinding against his lap.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” you laugh, pressing your bare breasts to his chest once he’s managed to untangle himself from your limbs long enough to shrug out of his shirt. Your pebbled nipples drag across the lithe planes of his chest and his cock jumps in his shorts.

“Clever.”

“That’s me,” Hoseok murmurs against your lips, deft fingers slipping beneath the damp cotton between your thighs. He slides the pad of one long finger across your wet slit and you gasp, rocking against it.

“Gotta get you out of these panties,” he laments, pulling one nipple into his mouth and working it with his teeth. You shudder in his hold. “Quick.”

“What are you in such a hurry for?” you tease, circling your hips to chase the perfect pressure of his fingertips. “We have all night.”

“We have about three more minutes if you keep grinding on me like this,” Hoseok laughs, shifting your bodies to lean you back onto the floor. “So give me a break because I want to enjoy this.”

You lie back for him dutifully, dark hair spilling onto the drop cloth around you, skin gleaming in the candlelight. Your gold pendant twinkles at the base of your neck.

God, he loves the way you look like this.

Flushed with excitement and anticipation. Like a feast laid out just for him. He rids himself of those pesky board shorts as fast as he can, leaning over you on hands and knees.

“You’re gonna marry me,” he muses, burying his face into the soft skin under your jaw. “You already said yes, can’t take it back now.”

Your laughter is echoing in his ears as he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck, across the bronzed planes of your shoulder. He can taste the day on your skin; the ocean salt and sunscreen mixed with that flavor that’s so uniquely you.

“I don’t want to take it back,” you sigh, whimpering when Hoseok kisses a path down the velvety skin between your breasts. He travels lower, kissing just below your bellybutton as he starts working your panties off with one hand. “I’m gonna keep you.”

Hoseok chuckles as he tosses your panties away, off to somewhere unimportant. What’s important is the way you take a deep breath and hold it when his mouth hovers coyly over your cunt.

“Look at me,” he directs, peering up at you from beneath heavy eyelids. You open your eyes to meet his gaze, candlelight dancing over your pretty face.

“I love you,” he breathes, lowering his mouth to make contact with your clit. The air leaves your lungs in that moment, a soft exhalation of air that makes the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end.

“I love you too,” you sigh, hips jerking at the contact, fingers digging hard into his hair. “So much.”

He knows you by now, knows how you like to be touched. Your rhythmic panting goes a bit ragged, when he slides two fingers into your cunt, crooking up to stroke you the way you like while his mouth works your clit.

God, he loves this part.

The part where you lose any semblance of control. The desperate sounds you make when you start to come apart beneath his mouth and hands.

“Hoseok -- “ your voice is strangled when you call out, “ -- Hobi, I’m gonna come.”

Something about the way you say his name goes straight to his dick. He grits his teeth when your nails dig almost painfully into his scalp as you start to tremble, shuddering against his mouth.

“That’s it, baby,” he soothes, pinning your hips down with his strong hands, keeping you from pulling away from the pleasure that borders on pain. “That’s it. Sound so good when you come for me.”

Hoseok stays face first in your cunt, nose and tongue pressed against you, until he’s certain the last wave has come and gone. Between his own legs, his cock pulses painfully, leaking pre-come at the thought of finally being inside of you.

Your body twitches with the aftershocks of your release as he slowly kisses his way up your thighs, your mound, your stomach.

“How was that?” he asks with a teasing tilt to his mouth, stealing your ability to answer when he kisses you deeply, fitting his slim hips between your legs. He reaches down to grab his stiff cock, sliding it across your slick entrance. You clamp your thighs together to tighten the drag and he groans at the friction.

“Amazing,” you sigh, dragging your nails over his ass, up the lean muscles of his back. “Perfect. You should let me return the favor.”

His dick practically jumps at the suggestion, stomach contracting hard at the prospect of feeling your pretty mouth wrapped around it. But Hoseok is too worked up, too riled up by the alcohol and the excitement.

“Can’t tonight,” he pants, arousal shooting up his spine when you wrap one hand around his now-wet cock. You pump him lazily, trailing soft bites from his jaw to his shoulder. “Need to be inside of you.”

“Yeah, I’m ready for that too,” you admit, guiding the blunt head of his cock to your entrance.

He surges forward then, pushing past the tight grip of your fingers, groaning as he’s enveloped completely by your warm cunt. You whimper at the stretch, locking your legs around him, gasping when he bottoms out.

He pulls back to the tip only to drive in again, earning another strangled moan. You’re squirming beneath him, breathless and dewy, looking like some kind of wet dream.

“I’ll never get over how good it feels to be inside of you,” Hoseok admits, burying himself as deep as he humanly can into you.

You’re so wet he can feel you spilling out onto the base of his dick and for one fleeting moment he wishes you knew how good this feels for him. How wet and hot and tight you feel around him. How being inside of you like this makes his brain go haywire, reduces him to only instinct and need.

You lift your hips to meet each snap of his, the wet sound of your joining echoing off the walls in this mostly empty house.

He hears you moaning his name in between the other sounds you make, in between the panting and mewling that makes his balls tighten. You grip his forearms as he grinds against you, kissing you in between desperate breaths.

“I think I’m gonna come again,” you gasp against his mouth. “Don’t stop.”

“Oh, fuck,” Hoseok groans, pulling back to get to his knees. He hooks one of your legs over the crook of one strong forearm, using his one free hand to press a thumb to your clit. His rhythm falters as he watches himself slide in and out of you, hypnotized by the sight of his body joined to yours.

You lift your ass off the floor, back arching as you chase the pressure of his fingers. Hoseok strokes you desperately, feeling his orgasm looming menacingly at the base of his cock. It takes just a few more strained pumps of his hips to set you off.

The second he feels you clamp down around him, Hoseok folds back over you, arms braced on either side of you as he thrusts through his own orgasm. He shuts his eyes and groans as he empties his cock inside of you, thrusting until he can’t anymore.

He collapses onto you, heart racing as he tries to catch his breath.

“Don’t leave me,” you groan when Hoseok peels his damp skin away from yours to get to his feet.

He strides across the room, completely nude, grinning when you turn onto your side and go up on one elbow to ogle him.

“Just for a second,” he calls out, pulling out every unorganized drawer in the kitchen until he finally comes across a pen. “Gotta finish something.”

He makes a show of holding it in the air as he walks back into the living room, opening the gold-flecked box, and pulling out the last unmarked polaroid photo.

You’re smiling the entire time you watch him pen the last caption on the last photograph.

she said yes

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