#bts historical au

[pennyellee]

CHAPTER VII - mágoa

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, mentions of God, violence, bloodshed, history class on lacrimosa yall, nudity, blood, manhandling, slapping, mentions of suicide, gun use, genitalia cupping, gaslighting, anxiety, strong language, threats, misogyny, old social norms, lies-lies-lies, bone crunching, physical violence, suicide attempt

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 12K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI CHAPTER VIII

mágoa (n.) a heartbreaking feeling that leaves long-lasting traces, visible in gestures and facial expressions

A pinch of sadness went through Y/N when she heard his words. She gave herself to him. Without any fight, simply accepting that this had to be done for her to build a strong base where he would trust her enough to let his guard down. After this day, her mind was barely holding up, therefore she went down the hill willingly rather than by force.

Her eyes were about to close slowly when he was taking the white sheet on which they consummated their marriage. Although her eyes were narrowed, she saw a significant portion of it being painted red with her blood. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she laid there, boring her eyes to the ceiling of the room rather than perceiving the reality.

The flames of the fire danced and flickered, casting a warm glow upon their entwined bodies. They laid there — he basked in the afterglow, and she in her own sorrow. He was caressing her hair while she laid on top of his naked torso where he moved her to rest just a moment ago, trying to not think about what had happened. She cared no more. Her mind and body were exhausted. Yoongi put a soft kiss on her forehead before he broke the serene silence.

“A bath, shall we?” Her body felt the mix of exhaustion and vulnerability as she went to get up, a soreness radiated in between her legs. Y/N could not wait till she would spread her limbs in the hot spring water. Yoongi gently swept her to his arms and carried her out of the room.

The corridor was softly lit by lanterns, their warm glow casting a gentle illumination. Paper windows filtered the moonlight, creating patterns of soft shadows on the wooden floor as he was taking her to the spring. He hoped it would ease her pain and relax her muscles so he could be a little more selfish and take her again and again until dusk.

Her naked nipples stiffened and reacted to the sudden change of temperature. Yoongi was yet again trying to control his urges to press her against the wall and take her from behind. But he knew better. She was sore, vulnerable, and he knew the time was ticking and soon a bigger wave of realisation would hit her.

The steam from the heated water mingled with the crisp air, creating a comforting atmosphere that embraced them. She could feel the cold wind hitting her body before Yoongi stepped inside the natural bath surrounded by ancient rocks, swiftly setting their bodies into the hot water. Y/N breathed out from the sensation of the water balming her sore muscles. She took a moment to embrace the peacefulness of her surroundings, momentarily forgetting the true nature of her situation and to whom is her naked body pressed to.

Her eyes snapped open when the nerve hit her senses, breath hitching in her throat, tears still struggling to dry on her cheeks. An epiphany. She tried to pull herself away from him, covering her chest when he pushed her against him even tighter.

“None of that, my love,” he whispered into her ear, nabbing at it and pecking her head. “You are finally doing so well, baby,” he spoke, his lips still pressed to her hair.

The soothing warmth of the water against her skin and the unsettling reality of her vulnerability in Yoongi’s embrace — it overwhelmed her from every perspective. His words, though tender, served as a reminder of the power dynamics that governed their relationship. She felt a surge of frustration and sadness, a silent plea for autonomy in a world that seemed determined to deny it and her resilience was coming back to life again.

“Yoongi,-” she said urgently, her voice carrying over the soothing sounds of flowing water. “When is it going to happen?” Y/N inquired, lifting her head up, her eyes searching for answers.

“It is already happening.”

The night had unfolded in shadows and whispers, and as the moon’s soft glow seeped into the bath, reality grew more elusive.

The infamous Yakuza, believing themselves five steps ahead of the Min clan, found their fortunes turned by the cunning moves of the young Kkangpae. The cards he tossed when luring out the enemy’s leader were not in their favour. Cut the snake’s head and it will die; Yoongi wished to see them all perish.

The headquarters of the Japanese clan, once a fortress of power, now stood vulnerable in the absence of its leader. Yoongi’s calculated manoeuvres had left them exposed, ripe for his seizing. From Japan to the north of Korea, with Hong Kong looming as the next conquest, the throne beckoned to him now.

The Kkangpae had played a dangerous game, and the stakes had never been higher. He realised this when the enemy held his beloved, poised to snuff out her life with vengeance. That urgency drove him to expedite matters. Within an hour, united soldiers of the Min and Wang houses moved to three different locations, armed and prepared for the Yakuza’s onslaught.

Yoongi knew the moment they set foot on his territorial grounds their intentions were not congratulatory. But one of the decoy. On that note, another three units secured warehouses, guarding the ammunition and the snow, as they called it, to maintain prosperity.

Y/N had underestimated him and the measures he would take to ascend the ladder. No man had dared challenge the Yakuza and lived to tell the tale, let alone dismantle the cruel syndicate over the span of a single lifetime.

The last of them were already en route to join infiltrators in Fukuoka, where all of Yamamoto’s warehouses lay, along with Tokyo’s headquarters. The command was clear: at the stroke of midnight — fire.

“Is Mother with Bó Chéng and Xiaoli, safe?” Her voice trembled. Y/N is no fool; her gut warned of temporary alliances and impending bloodshed once the Yakuza descended the stairs. This time, between Wangs and Mins. Yoongi never confirmed such a cruel assumption, yet, she knew.

He nodded solemnly, understanding her concern. “They are safe, love. I made sure of it,” he reassured, his voice a comforting anchor amidst the chaos. Yoongi’s eyes held a mysterious depth as he spoke, and the weight of his words lingered in the air.

The Kkangpae had unleashed a force that even he hadn’t fully anticipated, and the consequences were now playing out in real time. His vision was clear — The Min clan, a rising phoenix from the ashes, disrupting the status quo, plunging the city into disarray.

For years, no Korean clan had dared confront Japan’s Yakuza, the threat of annihilation keeping them in check. Hence, Korea’s underworld always stood divided until the former Kkangpae Min initiated revolutionary acts against both southern and northern enemies.

As the First World War unfolded, Yoongi’s father saw an opportunity to cover the blood traces left behind by the clans on the battlefield. The alliances formed, the battles fought—all of it became obscured by the larger narrative of global conflict. The revolution against both parties became a rallying cry for those long oppressed by the Yakuza.

The clan of Min knew if they wanted to succeed in this power play, attacking the northern foes was first in order before they could stand a chance over Yakuza and their international allies.

The war with its sweeping chaos and diversion, became a canvas for the Mins to redraw the lines of power. The world may be at peace now, the syndicate clans were nowhere near the fine line. A Cold War between the fighting clans arose and took its place now that they could not horrendously murder each other without drawing the attention of the upper world.

Not today.

His father’s revolutionary act set the stage, and Yoongi intended to finish it. With satisfaction, he watched as the wheels of change turned, irreversible.

The war ended over two decades ago and yet Yoongi still expected the unexpected. Hong Kong sought alliance with Tokyo. A marriage would seal it. Lineage was sacred, heavily valued. The syndicate, with its watchful eyes and ears attuned to the pulse of the underworld, murmured in speculation. Rumour was spread of Wang Zemo’s eldest daughter to be betrothed to Yamamoto Itsuki, the Yakuza’s heir.

Yoongi had just celebrated his 18th birthday when the murmur began. The girl, barely a decade old, promised to the Yakuza. No official betrothal could happen as she was still too young to be wedded.

Years went by and when she reached the 18th year of her life, Yoongi anticipated another bloodthirsty war to begin now that the arrangement could take place. But nothing happened. Holding her portrait in his hand, looking at the black and white photograph with a fresh cut on his eye, imagining how cherry red her lips must be and how he is going to drown in her eyes once he sees them for real. He saw opportunity, a golden ticket in this dangerous game.

Therefore, before her twenty-first birthday, Yoongi was already ahead of Yakuza, sipping tea with Wang Xiaoqing, the Triad leader’s older sister. His intention was clear from the beginning — the young gal in the portrait, undyingly beautiful.

Instead of wielding guns and knives at the northern enemy in China he was resolute in overthrowing the Triad by this calculated move of taking her and creating a powerful alliance in order to end Yakuza’s reign. He could have had any woman from his clan, but no woman ever spiked his interest as much as Wang Y/N.

He settled his mind on the path God presented him. He played his pieces, aiming for the Triad’s allegiance. The men of the Wang Triad, fiercely loyal to their established traditions, would not willingly follow an outsider — with or without war. To secure his grip on the Triad’s allegiance, Yoongi needed more than a coup; he needed a legitimate claim to leadership.

He played his pieces, aiming for the Triad’s allegiance. The young Kkangpae began his cockiness by taking the young woman to keep at his premises right before Yakuza would announce the engagement and followed the union.

Yoongi, the architect of this narrative, understood the power of perception. A move that seemed personal had far-reaching implications in the complex web of alliances that governed the criminal underworld.

The elderly woman was the smartest human he ever met. As she also held a mutual disdain for the house of Yamamoto that ran deep, an animosity fuelled by years of oppression and subjugation. The Yakuza’s supremacy over other clans, their unabashed acquisition of shares, land, and women, irked her. It was a political dominance that had cast a shadow over both Seoul and Hong Kong’s criminal underworld for far too long.

A shrewd strategist that Wang Xiaoqing was, recognised the potential for a successful revolution in Yoongi’s carefully laid steps — the blockade of docks, the seamless integration into the Yakuza’s business affairs, the subtle theft of opportunities, and the meticulous infiltration into their other operations—it was a game of chess played with finesse. Lastly, his determination on not letting Wang’s oldest daughter marry into Yakuza and form an alliance that could be a threat to his own kin.

Taking her niece would be a move that went beyond the surface, resonating with the desire to break free from the chains that bound them to the Yakuza’s dominance. Nobody dared to take what Yakuza claimed as theirs. Until him.

In the dimly lit warehouse where he was solely because the Luen’s shipment of ammunition to Taiwan got rampaged by Yakuza soldiers. Their attack on the shipment had disrupted his plans, leading him to intervene personally.

The captured Yakuza soldier, now a pawn in this unexpected confrontation, was brought before Yoongi for interrogation. The improvised setup within the warehouse served as the backdrop for the intense questioning that aimed to unveil the motives behind the Yakuza’s brazen attack that Yoongi already knew. It was their way of sending a message, a warning to the clans to not climb the ladder too high.

However, that’s not what aches Yoongi’s heart whenever he remembers that night. It was her, clad in her signature red qipao, in a dishevelled state, most likely chilled to the bone, lip split open.

The date on which Yoongi would arrive to collect her was settled two weeks from that day, but there she was, standing in the warehouse, most likely looking for a shelter from the cold.

In the silent exchange, Yoongi saw a glimpse of vulnerability and strength, a combination that both intrigued and captivated him. She looked straight to his eyes for what felt like hours without flinching away. The spark he felt that ignited between them in that warehouse would become the member of an unspoken understanding—a realisation that love, in its rawest form, had found its way to his heart.

He recalls how his breath stammered when he saw her for the first time. No matter how long she’s been running, no matter how the chilly wind ruffled her hair — she looked magnificent. All the love letters scribbled down that he had never sent to her were hidden in the drawer of his desk. He might give them to her one day once she will be ready to reciprocate his love.

Yoongi was convinced that it was destiny that she came upon the warehouse, as if God was leading her to his arms, where she belongs. At least according to the young leader of the clan. Y/N’s arrival to his land was unexpected and it certainly changed the whole trajectory. And that was one of the pivotal moments when he decided to rethink his steps.

This unforeseen encounter planted the seeds of a different kind of connection, one that deviated from the cold calculations of alliances and power and dark intentions loomed over the young Kkangpae Min.

Yoongi used to see marriage as a means to an end, a pragmatic choice made in the pursuit of power and influence. The emotions that typically accompanied such unions were to be set aside in favour of the greater goal at hand.

But her presence started to overshadow the original intentions of the alliance. How she fought him, stood her ground — all just made him want her more. As he found himself captivated by her company, the cold calculations of the former plan began to waver and he was decided.

The Yakuza’s move was thought-through, he did not expect any less—a challenge issued with violence and bloodshed and in the midst of celebration, chaos erupted. Min with his bride long gone to safety. Masked assailants, clad in the insignia of the Yakuza, stormed the hotel and one would think this is the end. But this conflict was nowhere near the grand finale.

At the time of the awaited attack of Yakuza men, echoes of screams of agony and crackling fire were far too loud. A clear symbol of the arising power of the Min clan. The two generations of Yamamoto's men, father and son, now lay as nothing more than ashes.

The night, which should have been a tender moment of intimacy, became the stage for a chilling chess move. As Yoongi and Y/N shared the vulnerability of their union, the Min clan, under his orders, descended upon the Yakuza with a relentless fury.

The sound of gunfire and explosions echoed in the night, a symphony of retribution that played out against the backdrop far away from their marital chamber. While Yoongi claimed the innocence of his wife, he orchestrated the downfall of those who dared to challenge his dominion.

The puppeteer of this grim performance, ensured that their legacy was erased, their power dismantled, and their grip on the criminal underworld shattered. In just one night, the war that lasted years ended.

Infiltrating the Yakuza was a meticulous plan, and his true intentions were hidden even from those closest to him. As the Min clan annihilated the Yakuza in cold blood, the night drew to a close and only those who would bend the knee and pledge loyalty were spared.

The night had witnessed the birth of a new order and the song of the dead echoed whilst the former empire shattered into pieces.

Morning arrived with a soft glow, painting the room in shades of muted light where Yoongi’s fingers traced gentle patterns on her naked back.

“Breakfast is ready,” he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss on her forehead. She nodded, wordless.

The table boasted an array of dishes, their enticing aroma filling the air. Yet Y/N could not eat yesterday nor today, the food simply did not go down her system.

Yoongi’s gaze remained fixed on her from time to time, while he was reading today’s paper the maid delivered together with the breakfast. His eyes, like a silent observer, bore witness to the aftermath of a night. Y/N’s eyes were bloodshot, cheeks stained with dried tears, her neck bearing bruises. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon her, yet he held onto the hope that all would settle now.

Yoongi sighed and reached into the pocket of his black vest.

“I have not read it,” said he once they finished eating breakfast and sat down in the lounge room. Y/N’s eyes moved to meet him, anticipating his next step. She did not want to speak to him. She did not want to look at him nor she did not want him to look at her.

“I appreciate that,” said Y/N, avoiding his eyes. Yoongi sighed again, reluctant to relinquish leverage over her, yet compelled to address the matter at hand. Deep down, he hoped the contents of the letter would bring her solace, perhaps even warmth towards him. Now, he stood as a fool in the pouring rain.

He carefully handed the letter, urging her to open it.

“Thank you,” she whispered, tearing open the envelope and extracting the yellowed paper within.

She looked at Yoongi one more time, and when she saw him spreading out the newspapers, she was glad he gave her at least some degree of privacy. Her eyes fell upon the cursive symbols of her beloved aunt’s handwriting.

The memories flooded back as Y/N read the words on the aged paper, transporting her to a time when life was less complicated. Yet, she remembers clearly the moment when the complications started to appear. She read the words, screaming at her whilst detailing Wang Xiaoqing’s declining health, her world halted.

The air grew heavy with a mix of medicinal scents and the weight of impending loss. Her aunt, a pillar of strength, lay frail on the bed, and Y/N’s heart ached at the sight.

As she recalls her last moments with her while reading the neatness of her handwriting Y/N finally sees the truth. Her breath caught in her throat, vision blurred by tears. Clutching the paper tightly, she read the words repeatedly, struggling to accept their meaning.

“I need you to understand, my dear,” her aunt’s voice, weakened but filled with determination, echoed in the room. 

“There are things, things I have kept from you to protect your mind and soul.”

Her aunt reached for her hand, the warmth of their connection grounding them in that vulnerable moment. The intricate dance between clans, the bloodshed, and the sacrifice her aunt had made to shield her from the harsh realities of their world.

“But it seems that my judgement was clouded—” In that moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, as if bracing for the revelation that would reshape the very foundation of her understanding. The vulnerability in her voice resonated with the unspoken sacrifices made for the sake of protection. Or at least that is what she thought she was doing by allowing Min Yoongi to take her into custody and use her as a leverage over the clans in negotiation of dominance.

“We do not have much time I fear,” her aunt continued, urgency etched into her every word. Y/N held her hand tightly, afraid to let her go.

“Once you burn me to ashes, I need you to run and not look back, Kai will help you get away—” a strong cough interrupted her speech and Y/N rushed to get her some tea to ease her throat. A bony hand landed on her forearm, stopping her in motion. Her eyes watered again at the sight of the state God let her aunt get in. Her fingers were turning purple and Y/N knew what that means. Oxygen was leaving her body and the end was near.

“Auntie—” she went to protest, at the time not understanding why she needed to run in the first place. But she listened carefully to her aunt closely when her sore and painful voice mapped out her next steps.

Back then Y/N wanted to believe it was a sacrifice born out of love and the desire to break free from the cycle of violence that had ensnared their family for too long. And her aunt presented her a chance to not be in the middle of the fire.

Peace was a fragile illusion. Min Yoongi may be a titan among the outside world, yet within the confines of his own home, his dominion was about to face its greatest challenge.

Yoongi, engrossed in his reading, spared his wife the intrusion of his gaze, allowing her the solitude to grapple with the weight of her aunt’s revelations. Not having a clue what the dying woman could write.

The revelations echoed in the silence of the room, and when Y/N finally looked up from the letter, her eyes met Yoongi’s. The vulnerability in that moment transcended the complexities of their current situation, forging an unspoken false connection on his side rooted in pain and the unravelling of hidden truths. In a burst of fury, she lashed out.

“You’re a fucking liar.”

An anger radiated from her, the heat rushing to her head. Yoongi’s eyes locked onto hers; he didn’t flinch at the sudden eruption of anger — it was nothing he didn’t already get used to. Instead, he folded the paper with deliberate care, setting it aside.

“Am I?” His response was laced with a hint of amusement, a calculated provocation that stoked the flames of her anger.

The contents of the letter, as it seems, are not what he hoped for. Nonetheless, he wondered whether he would fight this battle. Sooner or later she would learn the truth. It’s the timing that was not perfect and he knew it’s going to be hard to put the fire out.

“You manipulated her into agreeing—” Yoongi sucked the inner side of his mouth and released it with a loud click of his tongue, trying to compose himself for what is to come as she now knows.

“—with a choice, dove. A difficult one, yes, but she made the decision on her own accord,” Yoongi interjected, his voice maintaining a disconcerting calmness.

“You lied to her!” A wry smile played on Yoongi’s lips as he met her accusing gaze. Y/N was hanging on the farthest end of the branch and soon enough she would fall. Yoongi’s gaze remained fixed on Y/N, his calm demeanour a stark contrast to the storm brewing within her.

“She would not have approved if she knew of your intentions!” Yoongi leaned against a nearby table after he stood up, his gaze unwavering. He realised that what she is implying is true. But he also knew that this is not the world where Wang Xiaoqing would be stupid enough to give him her hand. She knew what it would mean.

“Power comes with a price. Your aunt understood that and made the necessary sacrifice.” Y/N scoffed at his words, incredulous. Yoongi’s response was a wry smile, a silent admission of guilt that he would never voice out.

“And what of my sacrifice? What about the life I wanted, the choices I never got to make? You took them from me!” He reached out to her, his fingers gently tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. Yoongi looked at her trembling lips and caught himself thinking how good they felt against his last night.

Y/N, caught between anger and grief, searched Yoongi’s eyes for any sign of remorse. Yet, all she found was the unwavering resolve of a leader who had chosen duty over sentiment.

Her patience was wearing thin, her anger boiling over like a cauldron on the verge of eruption.

“I did what I had to do for the survival of our clan—” she struck out, her hand connecting with his cheek in a resounding slap. Her whole body was shaking with grief, anger and hatred.

Yoongi’s head pivoted slightly at the sudden intrusion he did not expect. Yet, even as she railed against him, hitting him repeatedly, Yoongi remained steadfast. All the curse words she sent his way were only bypassing him. He knows she wouldn’t do this in normal circumstances. But to stop and think for a second — there were never normal circumstances to begin with.

“You took everything from me!” Her voice was a plaintive cry, a desperate plea for justice in a world gone mad.

“I gave myself to you!” She screamed furiously. Yoongi’s eyes, usually calm and collected, flickered with rage. She glared back at him, tears streaming down her face. The reality of her situation sunk in, and Y/N felt a profound sense of betrayal.

“You’re fucking liar Min Yoongi. You never fucking needed to-” Yoongi’s jaw tensed, the anger in his gaze burning like a smouldering ember. His calm façade cracked, revealing the storm of emotions within while she aimed to hit his face again.

“Are you done?” He forcefully grabbed her wrists, stopping her, holding them tightly while he pulled her towards him. She shook her head, trying to break free from his grasp to make more damage. Y/N refused to yield.

“Fucking listen to me, Y/N,” he spoke through gritted teeth, his voice a low growl.

“Yes, I lied to your aunt because I knew where your ambitions lay and where she wanted you to be.” His grip tightened as he continued, his words cutting through the charged air. She shook her head in disbelief, struggling to break free from his hold as he violently pulled her back.

“I knew she would never give me her blessing to marry you!” Y/N’s eyes widened with a mix of surprise and realisation of his confession, confirming the contents of the letter.

“So you fucking tricked her,” she gritted through her teeth. Min Yoongi never intended to send her overseas, just like he promised the dying woman. All this time, she blamed her aunt for choosing her path, unaware of Yoongi’s manipulations.

“I could have slaughtered the whole Triad. Think of this as me being merciful.”

The weight of his words settled in the room, a heavy silence following his chilling revelation.

“You even fooled my father into thinking this is all my aunt’s doing,-” she whispered unbelievably, her voice laced with a bitter realisation. Yoongi’s expression remained impassive, but the truth lingered in the air like a haunting melody.

“You made a promise to her that I will be safe overseas, so why am I here, Yoongi?!”

“Because I fucking fell in love with you!” he exclaimed, his voice rising, his eyes searching for any kind of emotion that would show that she understands his doings. Of course she does not understand, after all, he does not understand how much damage he has done either. He is selfish and he always will be.

“You betrayed her trust!” Y/N’s eyes, on the other hand, searched for any sign of remorse, any glimmer of the man she thought she knew. He exhaled heavily, the weight of their tangled destinies pressing down on him.

“It was either marrying you and having a legitimate claim or bloodshed. Would you rather the worse option?” Y/N’s gaze wavered between anger and hurt, her surroundings fading away.

“You justify cruelty with some deluded sense of righteousness,” she said, her voice strained from the last vestiges of her strength.

“You’re part of this world, part of my world, whether you like it or not—”

“This was never about Yamamotos right?—” She looked right into his eyes, scanning the angry red scar that ran up in his brow that he now raised at her remark.

“—you are going to break the alliance with my father the first chance you get. That is what you mean by legitimate claim, am I fucking right Yoongi?!” He clenched his jaw, frustration etched on his face. Y/N had seen through his carefully constructed façade.

“You only fucking love yourself and your fucking clan!” He hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words but whence she decided that getting physical with him again is the answer — he snapped.

His hand forcefully clutched her jaw in a tight grip, just like when she first opened her eyes under his imprisonment. The wall met her back and she gave out a painful yelp. He closed the proximity to her face and spoke the words right to her ear while watching her struggle to get out of his grip.

“One of the things I love about you, dove, is your cleverness. But this little clever girl needs to finally learn her place,” he said, his words seething with control. She was whimpering in his grip that got tighter and tighter with each word he uttered.

“I took you for a wife so when I blow the brains out of your Sire’s head and take over his Triad, I will be unopposed, that is the truth, now—” Y/N’s eyes widened in both shock and fear as Yoongi’s words penetrated the air around her.

The force of his grip on her jaw made her gasp, the pain radiating through her face. The cold, unyielding wall at her back provided no escape, and she felt a surge of helplessness as his words sank in.

“Yet, out of the love I have for you, I have ensured your lovely sister will have her place within our clan and your mother will be taken care of. It’s the little boy you are afraid I might hurt, innit?” The mention of her family sent a shiver down her spine, and her eyes flickered with a mix of dread and anger.

“Well let us say, if you shall not force my hand by your shenanigans, I shall spare him.”

“You are a psychopathic monster,” she hissed through gritted teeth, her voice barely audible as his grip was not allowing her to speak properly. He chuckled, a dark sound that sent shivers down her spine.

“You were not saying that when I spilled all my love inside of your cunt, claiming you” his lips brushed against her ear as he whispered, cupping her womanhood with his free hand.

“You have no choice in this, dove. You are mine, bound by vows and blood. And when the time comes, you shall see I am the only one who can protect you—” his lips dangerously close to her ear now moved, laying a small peck on her wet cheek, right under her eye.

“—to provide for you,” his lips brushed upon her skin moving to lay another peck to her forehead. Tears streamed down her face.

“—to love you.” He finished, pressing his lips to hers.

“I wanted you from the very beginning. It was always you,—” She narrowed her eyes, a fire igniting within her despite the fear. The taste of his lips lingered on hers as Yoongi pulled away, his eyes fixed on her tear-stained face.

“—even if I would slaughter every member of your Triad, I would have spared you, my love.”

“I would rather die,” she spat at him, a small act of defiance in the face of his cruelty.

“Death is easy, dove. It’s the living hell I can create for you and those you love that should terrify you—” He traced a finger along her jaw, a sickening smile playing on his lips.

“Even the strongest wills can be broken, I still have some ways to make you obey and be a dutiful loving wife.”

“I will not become the submissive wife you fantasise about.”

But the scarred leader had a trick up his sleeve that only time will show whether she will need that kind of fixing.

“You are a challenging one, and I do love a good challenge. However, your defiance is only temporary,” he smirked, a predatory glint in his eyes.

Y/N recoiled, a sense of dread settling in her stomach. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his plans, something insidious lurking beneath the surface. The scarred leader had shown a glimpse of a darker side, a side that made her shudder with apprehension. The voices in her head never left and now they were louder than ever.

“In the end, you will crave me,” his words echoed, each syllable dripping with a sinister certainty. “—And what a good life I can offer. I have all the time in the world to make you mine. Soul and mind.” He continued his monologue. She clenched her fists, steeling herself against the onslaught of doubt and fear.

“If my mind does not betray me, I told you what will happen once you disobey me again, did I not, dove?” her heart pounding in her chest as Yoongi’s words sent waves of revulsion through her. She fought against the oppressive grip on her jaw, her eyes ablaze with a mixture of defiance and fury.

“How exactly did I disobey you, hm?” she demanded, her voice rising with each word.

His chuckle resonated in the room, and he released his hold on her jaw. Y/N slumped against the wall, gasping for a deep inhale of air. The tears blurred her vision and her head seemed too heavy. Yoongi took the little bell on the side table, turning to Y/N, a cold glint in his eyes.

“I assume, the last time I disciplined you, was not simply enough.” He carried on without taking her comment to notice. She struggled to regain her composure, wiping away the tears that clouded her vision.

His fingers toyed with the small bell in his hand, and the room seemed to constrict around her.

The sound of the bell echoed, a disconcerting prelude to what awaited her. Yoongi’s gaze bore into her, a chilling determination evident in his demeanour.

“It seems you need a little reminder.”

Y/N’s pulse quickened, her mind racing with the fear of the unknown. She heard footsteps approaching the room and her head swiftly turned to follow the sound.

“Yoongi—” she pleaded. He remained unmoved. The approaching footsteps grew louder, and a sense of dread settled in the pit of her stomach.

“I hope this will be the final lesson, dove,” Yoongi said, the edge of cruelty evident in his voice. When she saw him reach for the walther in his holster, her pleas became more urgent.

“I am sorry, that’s what you want to hear right, Yoongi? I am sorry!” she implored, her voice shaky with a blend of terror and disbelief. “I will do whatever you want, just don’t—”

But her words were cut short as Yoongi’s hand gripped the handle of the walther. The room seemed to close in around her, the walls similarly closing in on the remnants of her hope. His gaze remained cold, his resolve unyielding as extended hand with the gun in his grip aiming for the incomer sliding the hanji paper door open.

Yoongi’s gaze shifted toward the figure entering the room, and Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Panic surged through her as she redirected her plea, desperately trying to avert the impending danger. His finger hovered over the trigger. He patiently waited till the door slid all the way in before loading the gun that alarmed Y/N even more.

“Yoongi stop, let us talk—” he had to laugh at how quickly he can have her on chokehold, smothering the fire in her. He was having none of it this time.

But before she could act, Yoongi’s grip tightened on the gun, his finger inching closer to the trigger. The figure in the doorway froze, sensing the danger that lurked in the scarred leader’s cold gaze.

Y/N needed to think quickly, her gaze momentarily meeting the poor made, stopping to look her over, she gulped down. It was her. The young girl’s tears were already falling to the wooden floor once she slumped down to her knees and begged for her life, just like she did months ago near the koi pond that she almost drowned in.

“I told you the Lord has a plan—” Y/N closed her eyes shut tightly, trying to think of a way to save the girl’s life. She owes her so much already and she certainly does not deserve to die because the man cannot handle being rejected each time there’s progress within the messed up relationship he formed in his deluded head.

Her palms pressed to her eyes she breathed the air in. With a surge of determination, she stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest. Yoongi’s gaze bore into her, his cold eyes reflecting the twisted depths of his obsession.

With a deep breath, Y/N made her move. Ignoring the fear that threatened to paralyse her, she closed the distance between them in a swift motion. Her hand reached up to cup his cheek, her touch gentle yet calculated. His gaze locked with hers in a silent battle of wills. It confused him. What does she think she is doing? The scarred leader was too selfish to stop her. Feeling her warm hand on his cheek made him lose his hardened features.

If he could rule with fear and violence, she can rule with the love he desperately wants her to reciprocate, even if it will be pretended. And pretend she planned to.

Y/N was not stupid, she knew he would not believe her one bit that she is going to be a pitch-perfect mafia wife overnight. But gradually, till she can think of a way to leave. A plan was already writing itself in her conflicted mind. For now, she needed to get the girl out of danger, and if she had to forget about where she was standing and with whom, she would. For a life that can be spared.

And then, without hesitation, she pressed her lips to his in a desperate kiss. It was a gamble, a risky move born out of necessity. But in that fleeting moment, as their lips met in a deceitful embrace, Y/N prayed it would be enough to distract him.

Her heart raced with adrenaline as she poured every ounce of determination into the kiss, willing him to succumb to the illusion of affection. She could feel the tension in his body, his grip on the gun momentarily faltering as she moved her lips against his.

Yoongi was too taken aback to react differently than kissing her back as if this was the last time he was. She used his own tactics against him, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed to pay off. Winning this round with flying colours as the gun with a swift motion was sent clattering to the floor. The sound echoed through the room.

When Y/N finally parted from him, her eyes filled with determination, Yoongi chuckled softly, the façade of affection slipping away. Yoongi took an estranged string of hair and tugged it behind her ear.

“I told you your defiance is only temporary.”

“And you just proved your threats are empty.”

She refused to let his words intimidate her, to succumb to the fear that threatened to consume her. She knew Min Yoongi’s weakness all too well.

Her — it was her greatest advantage now, and she planned to use it to its fullest extent. Her defiance was far from being temporary. One step at a time; she planned to win.

Y/N watched the falling snow from the Cadillac’s window, her mind swirling with the events that had transpired. Min Yoongi sat beside her in stony silence, still seething from their confrontation. He dragged her to the car kicking. His pride was wounded by her defiance. Again. But she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter, of breaking under the weight of his control.

This was not the right time for her shell to crack. He needed her composed and Y/N was not feeling like a puppet he has had made of her these past months. He overstepped the line with the knowledge that and in their world, truth can kill.

He dusted his coat and hat from snow once they stepped inside of the hotel they vacated not even a day ago. Y/N felt small once she walked by his side, not because he would intimidate her, that was never the case — her eyes creeped at the hallway where her body was pressed to the wall, strong hand on her neck.

A sense of unease settled over her. She raised her own hand to touch the still sore space covered by the neckline of her qipao, white fur coat draped around her shoulders.

His sharp eyes noticed it and for a fleeting moment he paused, his gaze softening imperceptibly as it fell upon Y/N’s form. Despite the coldness that often characterised his demeanour, there was a flicker of something akin to remorse in his eyes.

That is where Min Yoongi’s remorse lies. He did not regret taking her as wife, he did not regret all the lies, damage and deception he employed to achieve so, what he did regret was her getting physically hurt. He regretted listening to her sister when she said he should stay with the guests instead of attending to you. But as quickly as it had appeared, the moment passed, and Yoongi’s expression hardened once more.

She followed him into the dining hall, her steps hesitant as they walked side by side. The room erupted into applause once they stepped in. The sound echoing off the walls in a cacophony of celebration of the genocide they just performed.

The celebration was a mockery of the destruction they had caused, the lives they had taken in the name of power. Y/N scanned the faces in the room, searching for her family among the crowd. Relief washed over her when she saw Xiaoli, hanged on the arm of Kim Taehyung; she nodded, a silent reassurance that they were safe.

There is never a guarantee that ordinary civilians won’t be harmed as that’s how clan’s limit the possibility of attacking the headquarters which were strategically located in the heart of the city. Therefore, no assurances that innocent lives would be spared.

Her steps remained hesitant as they made their way through the crowded room. Number of men and women patted him on his back, congratulating him on the plan he orchestrated worked just right. And as she cast a glance at Yoongi, she couldn’t help but wonder whether they all would ever find redemption for the sins they had committed.

Yoongi raised his hand once they got in the middle of the dining hall, attempting to silence everyone. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to him expectantly.

But Y/N paid him no mind, her thoughts consumed by the dark undercurrents that lurked beneath the surface. She did not bother to pay attention to her so-called husband’s propagandic words to his blind worshipers. The voices in her head would outcry him or anyone else. For what little her ears caught, there was a sense of pride in his words, a conviction that they had done what needed to be done to protect their interests.

“We must remain vigilant,” he concluded, his voice a warning. “Our enemies may have been vanquished, but new threats will always emerge. We must stand together, united in our resolve to protect what is ours.” Yoongi’s gaze lingered on Y/N possessively. When his gaze fell back to the crowd, he saw his right hand man making a way to the centre, rather urgently.

“Excuse me,-” Yoongi murmured to those around him, his tone clipped as he stepped away from the crowd. He had little time for idle chatter, especially in the midst of their celebrations.

Namjoon’s expression was grave as he spoke, his words measured and deliberate. “There’s been a development,-” he began, his voice becoming too low to understand what he was saying. Y/N’s eyes flickered to all of them before they landed back on Yoongi and still whispering Namjoon.

Yoongi’s expression remained unreadable as he listened to Namjoon, his features schooled into a mask of stoicism. But as Namjoon’s words sank in, a flicker of something dark and dangerous glinted in his eyes. As Yoongi turned to face her, his gaze piercing and intense, she could not predict what was going to happen.

The scarred leader encouraged everyone to continue with celebrations with a big smile plastered on his face, his voice ringing out with false warmth and cheer. But the persona was long gone once he turned to face the group of his most trusted man.

“Tae, take Xiaoli to her room and come back, the rest, office now—” Yoongi ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

“I’m going to see Bó Chéng and Ma, Yoongi.” She announced, interrupting the stream of his command. Yoongi’s gaze snapped to Y/N, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before his expression hardened once more. He attempted to make a reasonable argument why she cannot go, but there was none, only his selfishness remained. Clutching his fist tightly, he spoke.

“Thirty minutes, then I need you downstairs.” Yoongi’s jaw clenched as he struggled to contain his frustration. Y/N nodded curtly, she knew that this is a rare occasion that he would agree without a fight.

“Dove?” Yoongi called when she turned to walk away. He hesitated for a moment, his thoughts racing as he searched for the right words. The darkness and possessiveness that loomed over him overshadowed any kind of sincerity he wished he would say instead.

“Do not make me come and get you.”

The atmosphere was heavy with tension as Yoongi sat behind his desk, his expression unreadable as he listened to the reports from his subordinates. The news of Chanyeol’s demise lingered in the air like a dark omen, casting a shadow over the room.

“Are you certain it was a suicide?” Yoongi’s voice cut through the tense silence of the room.

“They found him hanging in his cell,” Namjoon replied, his tone cautious. “No signs of foul play.”

Yoongi’s mind raced with questions. The absence of a trial meant that Chan-yeol’s fate had been sealed, his sins catching up to him in the most final of ways.

“His death was inevitable,” Yoongi murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation. “But it serves as a reminder to all who dare to betray us.”

“He fucking deserved to have his balls cut off, Hyung.” The youngest member of the board spoke with venom in his voice. The sentiment was shared by many in the room, but Yoongi knew that dwelling on revenge would only serve to distract them from their true objectives. Nonetheless, he silently nodded in agreement.

“Are all our goods secured, Jimin-ah?” Yoongi shifted the conversation to more practical matters, his focus unwavering despite the weight of recent events. Their operations could not afford to falter.

“They’re secured, Hyung,” Jimin replied, his tone confident. “We’ve taken the necessary precautions to ensure our assets remain protected.”

“Good,” Yoongi said, his voice firm. “We can’t afford any mistakes. Keep a close eye on everything, and report any unusual activity immediately—”

“What is it, Yoongi?” The doctor’s voice resonated throughout the room. He was sitting near the fireplace, nursing a glass of liquor in his hand, his eyes sharp and thin while looking at his brother and leader.

The moment he stepped inside of the hotel, Seokjin knew something had happened that got under Yoongi’s skin. The only reason is still absent in this room, her time slowly waning.

Yoongi’s gaze flickered towards Seokjin, his brother’s interruption breaking the flow of their conversation.

“We have matters to attend to, Seokjin,” Yoongi replied, his tone clipped but not unkind. “Important ones.”

“Rumour has it—” he stood up, ignoring the scarred boy’s dismissal he had known forever, Seokjin’s eyes bore into Yoongi’s, a silent challenge passing between them.

“That while you celebrate the victory, your own household is on fire.” Yoongi’s jaw tightened, a silent acknowledgement of the truth in Seokjin’s words.

“So tell us what is bothering you.” Despite his efforts to maintain his composure, he couldn’t entirely mask the unease that gnawed at him. Reaching the spot where his bride imprinted her hand earlier, he spoke.

“She knows Wang Xiaqing did not give me any blessing to marry her.” He could visibly see his right-hand man pressing his fingers to the root of his notes and sighing loudly. The youngest could not help but chuckle at his leader’s words as he sympathised with Y/N to most. Not enough to help her out of this situation though.

Seokjin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his gaze locking onto Yoongi’s with intensity. The revelation hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the room.

“And how did she come to know this?” Seokjin’s voice was low, a mixture of concern and curiosity. Yoongi’s jaw tensed, his expression clouding over with frustration.

“I gave her the letter without reading it first.”

“Yoongi why the actual fuck you would do that?!” Namjoon’s voice cut through the tension in the room, his anger palpable. Yoongi’s gaze hardened as he turned to face Namjoon, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

“Because she was making good progress, and I couldn’t deny it any longer,” Yoongi replied. Namjoon’s expression softened his features, reflecting a mix of sympathy and understanding.

“It does not matter, Hyung, she is your wife and that cannot be undone, right?” Hoseok’s voice carried a note of reassurance when he softly smiled at him.

Seokjin held up a hand, silencing the room. His pointing finger aimed at Yoongi next. “Yes, whatever happens, she is still your wife.”

“Yeah, well, go and tell her that, see if she listens.” Yoongi muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration, sinking back to his armchair. Namjoon exchanged a knowing glance with Seokjin.

“Does she know about your plans for her father’s Triad?” Namjoon’s question hung in the air, injecting a new layer of tension into the room.

Yoongi’s hand was pinching his lip when the question was raised. His eyes on neither of the men questioning him.

“She figured,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Seokjin’s expression tightened, his gaze narrowing as he processed Yoongi’s words. Namjoon’s eyes widened in surprise, his brows furrowing with concern and the rest of the man reflected the same kind of emotions.

“Hyung, but you just said she made progress, right? All will be good.” Namjoon’s question hung in the air, injecting a note of uncertainty into the conversation. Yoongi’s jaw clenched, his mind racing as he considered Namjoon’s words. He had believed that Y/N understood her role in their world, but recent events had shaken that belief to its core.

“I thought she did,” Yoongi murmured, his voice heavy with regret. “But now, I’m not so sure.” The remaining six were staring at their leader, expecting them to fill him in. They needed to know the situation in case little Mrs Min attempted to ruin every ongoing operation by running away.

“Well then, humble her like you always do—” Namjoon began, his tone suggesting a ruthless solution to the problem. The rest of them were not as right with their brother’s drastic intentions. Apart from Seokjin, he knew the young gal enough to know that being soft wouldn’t move her. But Yoongi’s interruption cut through the air like a knife.

“She said my threats are empty.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of Yoongi’s words hanging in the air.

“Fucking show her they are not, Yoongi. You’re the Kkangpae, and she is your wife, goddammit.” Namjoon’s frustration boiled over, his voice laced with urgency. They needed her well, alive and here as an obedient and loyal wife.

Yoongi had given her the chance to do so willingly, he had even gone against his trusted men’s words when he suggested she be involved in the business however she liked. He tried to play nice numerous times. In his mind. Not in hers.

Yoongi shall never fully scope how much he took from her. He is selfish enough to never even accept the possibility of letting her go for the better course in their damaged relationship. He always ruled with fear and kindness was only recently added to his vocabulary once he fell in love with her. Deeply, quickly and too hard. Whether he was willing to make that sacrifice, to truly change the way he ruled his empire, remained to be seen.

He wanted to mould her into the perfect wife for a Kkangpae. But he also wished that she would reciprocate his love. He had demanded too much of her, without ever truly understanding the cost. And as he looked around the room at the faces of his most trusted allies, he realised that he was not the only one who had underestimated the strength of her will.

Every one of them thought this matter would be solved after the wedding and she would slowly succumb to what life they offered her. But if there was one thing he was certain of, it was this: he would do whatever it took to keep her by his side, even if it meant confronting the darkest parts of himself in the process.

“I can always fix her, Yoongi.” Yoongi’s jaw clenched as he processed the implication behind Seokjin’s statement.

“That shall be the very last option, aight?” Yoongi finally replied, his voice firm despite the doubt that gnawed at him.

They may not have agreed with his decision, but they recognized the weight of his words. And in that moment, Yoongi thought that he had taken the first step towards redemption. Only to fall back down for what he is going to do.

“You underestimate the power of discontent, brother,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “It festers, grows until it consumes everything in its path. You would do well not to ignore it.”

“I’ll handle it,” he said, his voice filled with determination.

The door creaked open, revealing a figure standing in the doorway. Fashionably late, she at least arrived after she made sure that her little brother and mother were safe and sound. She has put him down for his afternoon nap, promising him to make a snowman when he wakes up.

The men’s looks met her eyes with a hint of little something Y/N could not interpret.

“What is it?” She asked carefully, scanning their faces.

“We were just discussing some matters concerning the recent events.” Seokjin steadied his voice and fixed his tie.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the tension in the air, but she forced herself to maintain a calm façade. She stepped further into the room, her eyes flickering between the faces of the men gathered around the table.

“Is there something I need to be aware of?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

“Chan-yeol’s dead,” said Yoongi coldly. She swallowed hard, trying to process the information.

The tension in the room seemed to thicken as the men exchanged guarded glances. Yoongi’s gaze bore into hers, searching for any hint of vulnerability. But Y/N held his stare, refusing to show any weakness in front of him or his associates.

Truth to be told, she did not know how to feel. The man was an accomplice in an act not worthy of heaven’s gate after death. The numbness that was creeping in her brain was spreading further and further.

“Does Daiyu know?” She gulped down the question, avoiding direct eye contact with any of the men.

“She knows. There will not be any funeral as he was a traitor to our clan.”

In their world, traitors were dealt with swiftly and without mercy. There would be no mourning for Chan-yeol, no funeral to honour his memory. He had chosen his path, and now he would face the consequences.

Y/N breathed the thick air of the room deeply in and licked her lips, her teeth scraping the bottom lip, a subconscious gesture of anxiety. The world of the Kkangpae was unforgiving, its rules and consequences absolute.

“Well, if you excuse us Buin, we shall take our leave.” Hoseok sensed that it was the right time to flee this room before more private and intense conversations could start between the man and his wife.

“Of course,” Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She watched silently as the men filed out of the room one by one, their expressions unreadable as they passed her by. Alone in the room with Yoongi, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that they will not have a pleasant conversation.

She turned to face him, searching his expression for any sign of what was to come. Their inner problems were never concluded, rather set on pause and Y/N had a hunch that Yoongi would not let her earlier shenanigans go.

“I want to speak to her, Yoongi.” She knew that asking to speak with Dayiu was a bold move, especially given the recent events and the strained dynamics between them.

“Why?” he asked, his tone betraying none of his thoughts or emotions.

“I want to express my condolences.”

“Condolences?-” he echoed, the scepticism evident in his tone. What kind of condolence she wanted to express when the very same man was an accomplice of such a sinistrous act.

“She lost a husband and the little boy lost his dad—” He knew Y/N well enough to recognise when she was being genuine and when she was attempting to manipulate the situation to her advantage. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, a hint of guardedness, perhaps even suspicion.

“Do you want to perchance tell her to run, dove?” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the directness of his question.

“I want to offer my condolences sincerely,” she replied, her voice steady despite the tension in the room. “Whatever may have transpired between us should not affect her, Yoongi.” Yoongi’s gaze remained fixed on Y/N, assessing her words and the sincerity behind them. She meant to say that whatever happens in their messed up relationship, Diayu should never be used as bargain anymore.

“I agree. But you just won’t ever learn, will you?” Their eyes locked, each of them holding their ground in the midst of their complex emotions.

“Yoongi, you ruined my goddamn life. Please don’t expect me to play house with you.”

“I’m offering you the life of a queen and all I ask for in return is obedience, perhaps love in time.” She heard this kind of proclamation way too many times for it to waver her.

“Well, I certainly did not ask for it.” She clasped her hands together, aiming to leave the room and find her cousin.

“Sit your ass back down. I’m not done.”

Y/N froze at Yoongi’s command, her muscles tensing as she slowly turned back to face him. Despite her inner turmoil, she complied, sinking back into the chair with a heavy sigh.

“You needn’t tell her to run. I have no intention to hurt her in particular. She played her part.”

“What else do you want from me, Yoongi?” she asked, her voice laced with frustration and exhaustion, not believing a word he was saying. “Haven’t you taken enough?”

“You needn’t concern yourself with her fate. Focus on your own.” Y/N’s heart sank at his words.

“I want you to see that everything I do, I do for us. For our future.” Y/N’s eyes narrowed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. Yoongi’s jaw clenched, his frustration palpable.

“I won’t be a part of your game anymore, Yoongi,” she declared, her voice unwavering. “I won’t—” a knock on the double door echoed, interrupting her.

Yoongi’s gaze flickered towards the door, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his features before he composed himself.

“Come in,” he called out, his voice firm. The siblings came just in time. Afterall, the Kkangpae requested their presence.

Dayiu’s eyes were red and swollen, a testament to the grief she carried, while Kai’s expression was hardened, unknowingly walking to a trap.

She greeted the young Kkangpae with a respectful bow. Kai remained silent, his eyes darting between Yoongi and Y/N.

Y/N watched the interaction, her earlier confrontation with Yoongi momentarily set aside in the face of a new development.

The room teetered on the edge of chaos she obviously did not see coming, and the consequences of this confrontation were poised to reshape the dynamics in their relationship. For good, he hoped.

They exchanged small talk with their leader while Y/N sat there silently. Only now and then did she raise a sympathetic look Daiyu’s way. She did not have a chance to speak with her since Chan-yeol drugged her and sold her out just to betray the very same man months later.

Y/N wished to apologise for every single unpleasant discontent she caused to her because of the fire she burnt Yoongi with.

Leaning in close to Daiyu, Y/N whispered her apologies, her words a quiet admission of remorse for the pain she had inadvertently caused.

She reached out, squeezing Y/N’s hand in a gesture of understanding her desire to live her life the way she wants. Diayu shares the same ambition now that her husband is no longer in the picture. But that is, of course, not going to be granted.

As she was not paying attention to what Yoongi and Kai are further discussing, a mistake on her part. The next shocked her to the core.

Kai went to stand up just to be sent flying to the ground by Yoongi knocking him down. Y/N’s heart lurched with horror.

“Yoongi, what the fuck!” Y/N yelled, shielding Diayu with her body.

“Missus Park?” Yoongi called. “I would rather you not stay for the next couple of moments.” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at Yoongi’s words.

“You see, Missus Park. I need to show my wife just how much my threats are not empty.” His voice was full of violence and Y/N’s heart pounded too loud and hard. She shot a concerned look at Daiyu, silently communicating her support and urging her to leave the room.

“Both of you. Leave, right now!” With a nod of understanding, Dayiu rose from her seat, casting a final glance at Y/N before quietly exiting the room. Panic surged through her veins as she watched Daiyu leave the room, her gaze fixing on Kai, struggling to stand up and run, his eyes reflecting fear.

Yoongi’s gaze locked onto hers, his expression dark and foreboding. She knew she couldn’t escape his wrath, not now.

“Yoongi, stop!” Her palms blunt against his torso, trying to stop him from proceeding further, just to be pushed back to the armchair, little too hard than Yoongi intended to. His mind and fists aimed at the younger boy’s face. Her words fell on deaf ears as Yoongi continued his assault, his rage unchecked and his fury unleashed.

The sickening sound of bone crunching beneath his blows and painful cries from Kai’s mouth was haunting the room. Yoongi dragged him to the nearest wall and pressed his head tightly to the concrete with his hand. The skin of his knuckles was torn and full of blood. Not as much blood as Kai’s face produced after being beaten numerous times. Kai’s painful cry got louder once Yoongi kept pressing his cheek to the wall.

With each crunch of bone and each agonised cry that echoed through the room, Y/N’s desperation grew. She knew she had to act, to do something to protect Kai from further harm.

“Yoongi, this is all me. Punish me!” She scrambled to her feet, her hands shaking with fear and adrenaline as she desperately tried to intervene, to stop Yoongi from inflicting any more harm on Kai. She did not expect him to take a hit on Kai, he followed his orders thoroughly, the younger boy even pledged his loyalty to him. Y/N's mind scratched his name from the list, another mistake on her part.

Y/N’s voice cracked with emotion as she made her desperate plea, hoping to redirect Yoongi’s rage away from Kai and onto herself. She knew she was risking everything by putting herself in the line of fire, but she couldn’t bear to see Kai suffer any longer.

“I was thinking you know—” said the scarred leader. With each passing moment, the weight of their situation pressed down on her, threatening to suffocate her with its overwhelming intensity.

“Forbidding you from this and that won’t work on you nor killing a worthless maid—”

Yoongi’s voice trailed off, his gaze turning back to Kai, whose head was battered and bloodied pressed to the wall, so painful that his consciousness was waning. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she waited for Yoongi’s next move, unsure of what to expect.

“—but hurting someone you care about...” His voice was chilling, the threat implicit in his words. Y/N’s blood ran cold as she realised the full extent of Yoongi’s intentions. He was using Kai as a pawn in his twisted game, manipulating her emotions to bend her to his will.

“His life and blood are on your hands, love.”

She looked into Kai’s eyes, seeing the pain and terror reflected in them, knowing that his fate now rested in her hands. Yoongi did not plan to kill him altogether, he just wanted her to succumb to submission and obedience.

“No, Yoongi, please!” she pleaded, her voice trembling with emotion. But Yoongi’s expression remained cold and impassive, his resolve unyielding. She felt as though her soul was being torn apart, torn between her love for Kai and her desperate need to protect him.

She had had enough. She had seen enough. And she was ready to give up her life to save his. Y/N thought about this option way too often lately. Whether her sacrifice would be enough to save Kai from further harm remained to be seen.

In that moment of desperation and despair, Y/N’s mind raced as she weighed her options. The thought of sacrificing herself to protect Kai from further harm consumed her thoughts, and with a sense of grim determination, she reached for the same unfortunate knife that saved her from her father’s wrath before.

With a steady hand, she withdrew the weapon, its cold metal glinting in the dim light of the room.

“Y/N…” he had to look back at her twice before he realised what was going on. Yoongi’s gaze flickered toward her, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes as he realised her intentions. But before he could react, Y/N pressed the blade against her own throat, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and resolve.

“Let him go Yoongi, or I swear I will do it,” she declared, her voice quavering but firm. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they all grappled with the gravity of the situation. Y/N waited, her hand steady against her throat, her gaze unwavering as she dared Yoongi to make his next move.

Yoongi’s hand left the already fractured skull of his wife’s cousin, and Kai slumped down by the wall, grunting loudly. The scarred leader who thought is holding the young gal in chess mate was taken aback by the sudden turn of events.

“I let him go, baby, now put the blade away.” Y/N hesitated, her grip on the sharp letter opener tightening involuntarily.

The rush of adrenaline had drowned out her fear momentarily, leaving her with a fierce determination to stand her ground.

“No,” she said firmly, her voice tinged with defiance. Yoongi took a step towards her small form. Her eyes crimson red, tears streaming down as she said that.

“We can talk—”

“It always starts with a talk, Yoongi, doesn't it?” Y/N interrupted, her voice trembling with emotion but her resolve unwavering. She held the knife steady, its blade gleaming in the dim light of the room.

Yoongi’s expression darkened, a mixture of frustration and anger flashing across his features. He took another step closer, his gaze locked on Y/N’s determined face. He was afraid and the young leader was only afraid of one thing. Losing her.

“Love, fuck, please I beg you to put it down, baby.” Y/N shook her head again.

“I told you I am your weakness, Yoongi, now you see for yourself.”

For the first time in a long time, Yoongi felt truly afraid. Not for himself, but for Y/N. He knew that he had pushed her too far, that his actions had driven her to this desperate act. And as he stood before her, pleading to put down the knife, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that he had already lost her.

He had always prided himself on his ability to maintain control in any situation, but now, faced with the prospect of losing Y/N, he felt powerless. He made her go mad.

As Yoongi reached out his hand towards her, a silent plea in his eyes, Y/N knew she couldn’t back down. It is him who will never learn, not her. Pressing the knife tighter, piercing the first layer of the skin, painting the blade red. A thin crimson line trickled down her neck making Yoongi’s eyes widen in panic. She could not feel a thing through the adrenaline and post traumatic experience from the events that led her to close her mind and not feel, her eyes were still fixated on him and how terrified he looked.

“Y/N, please,-” he begged, his voice raw with emotion. Now it was her who remained unmoved, her eyes blazing with defiance as she held her ground.

“Say it, Yoongi.” She declared. Giving him the taste of his own medicine. And the dark sickening part of Yoongi knew that he had finally met his match. She wanted him to suffer just as much as he made her suffer.

“I’m so sorry, love,-” what he always forced her to say, thinking he is teaching her of accountability, now left his lips. Yet, he could never be accountable for his own actions, could he?

“You’ve taken my life from me!” her voice filled with bitterness and resentment.

“I know,-” he whispered, gulping down the lump in his throat. His voice was heavy with remorse that did not reach sincerity. “And I will spend the rest of my life trying—”

“Fuck you! You are like a broken record, a lying one!” She had seen through his façade, seen the darkness that lurked beneath his composed exterior, and she refused to let him off the hook so easily. But he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, couldn’t bear the thought of spending the rest of his life haunted by the memories of what he had done.

“I will do everythi—”

“But you will never let me go.”

For a moment, Yoongi was speechless, his mind racing as he grappled with the realisation that he had pushed her too far. There were no words he could say to make her put the blade down from her neck. The absence of words only confirmed hers.

“The only blood I shall have on my hands shall be mine.”

He immediately crossed the distance to reach out - to stop her - to tell her that he would do anything to make things right, but he knew it was too late for that.

“NO!”

With a desperate scream from his mouth, Yoongi watched as Y/N swiftly swiped the blade against her own skin, cutting deeper, painting the qipao embroidered with pink roses and green leaves she was clad in crimson red with her hot blood.

.

.

.

©pennyellee. please do not repost

author's note: sheesh, here we go, i thought that no chapter will be hard for me to write since the last one, but this one did a number on me tbh. But more importantly for yall my beautiful chummers, if you feel like this is the end you imagined for lacrimosa and y/n, I strongly encourage you to not proceed to read the following chapters. Not every piece of media is meant for everybody and I totally respect if the way in which will lacrimosa continue won't be everyone's cup of tea or simply not the trope they wanted. I hold the pen and I love yall, I won't change the outline of lacrimosa I planned because of relativity tho. Therefore, those who are satisfied with this kind of ending - I love you, I'm grateful, and I thank you hundred times that you took the time to read this fic. Those who wants to follow the "couple" a bit more, stay tuned and patient for other chapters. I love you 🫧♡ ︎

shout-out to Bex, the queen @chaoticpuff17, for beta another chapter!

Love you all!! ♥

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

let's be friends chummers 🫧♡ ︎

lots of love, p.

tag list: @beautifulcloudfestival - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyyyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss - @secfir - @btspurplesky - @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin - @selenophileforlife - @idkjustlovingbts @seonghwaexile

#mafia au #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #hard yandere #yandere #yandere kpop #mafia bts #lacrimosa #myg angst #dark!yoongi #min yoongi x y/n #bts x you #yoongi smut #haegeum #suga x you #suga x y/n #suga x reader #historical au #bts historical au #bts yandere au #fic:lacrimosa #yandere bts #bts fic #yandere yoongi #bts #Spotify

[thedoctorsthings]

Power to the king | Min Yoongi pt. 2

Fantasy/historical AU, viking Au (attempted lmao), Yoongi x female reader

More angst (you know me by now), Yoongi is still an asshole, things taking a dramatic turn

cw: sexism, mentions of war, Jungkook's humour (I've decided I'm blaming my painful unfunnyness on the character now)

word count: about 3k

Yoongi and you had been married for a month now and you’d kept your promise. You were ice cold, you only talked when spoken to and you hadn’t as much as smiled in Yoongi’s general direction. The servants and everyone else in the castle treated you with respect and subservience. One might even say they seemed scared of you. Only you knew this all to be a farse. At night, when you were alone you cried yourself to sleep. It had been a month and you’d made little progress. Every day felt as empty as the last. Days before the wedding your mother had told you that an arranged marriage without love wasn’t as bad as people made it out to be. She said you would find things to love, running the household or eventually your children. But as a princess there was no household to run and how were you supposed to have children if your husband wouldn’t even look at you. You admit that you did want children. If you couldn’t have your husband close to you at least you would have them. They would be something that you could devote yourself to in this empty life. Since your wedding night you and Yoongi hadn’t spoken about the subject again. You assumed he would come knocking on your door every night, asking over and over. This was the way most of the men you’d met and heard of acted when it came to sex, but he left you alone. It seemed that maybe it was up to you to come to his door, but over your dead body were you going to give in to him first.

You got out of bed and got dressed. It was customary for maids to help women of your status with this, but you had quickly made an end to this habit by sending the maids out every morning. Now they didn’t even bother coming in anymore. The typical attire of a princess consisted of a white underdress and a heavy garment over it. Today you chose a blue dress. You leave your room and head to the dining room for breakfast. Yoongi is already sitting at the table. You were infinitely thankful for the rest of his family and the ever-present servants. If they weren’t here every moment you spent in the same room as Yoongi would be spent in agonising silence. You always sat next to your husband, as was customary. His brother sat next to you on your other side. Jungkook was a small dash of light in the dark tunnel that your life had become. He was nice, funny and actually tried to engage in conversation with you. He was the reason your days here weren’t spent in complete loneliness. You had no romantic feelings for him, but still found yourself wishing you’d have been married off to him instead. Marriage with him might have been easier, might have worked better than with Yoongi. “Good morning, your majesty. How did you sleep?”, Jungkook asks in that overly polite tone he often liked to use with you. “Nothing to complain about, my lord”, you replied, equally nasal. “Not really suitable for a prince to be playing games with his future queen, is it?”, sounded a grumpy voice from your right. You had already noticed that Yoongi didn’t appreciate it when you had too much fun with Jungkook. It made you want to do it all the more. At this comment you settle your gaze on the empty chair in front of you, the one where the queen is supposed to sit, and rigidly stare at it. “We are expected to attend next week’s festivities together”, Yoongi poses and somehow his voice sounds softer. He’s bent slightly towards you, but you stay unmoving. “okay”. Yoongi finishes the rest of his meal in silence as you occasionally say something to Jungkook. As Yoongi gets up, he says: “your chambermaid will tell you when it is time to prepare. She’ll give you the clothes you’re expected to wear as well”. You merely nod. 

Yoongi walks through the huge, stone hallways while lost in thought. He got what he wanted, a wife that never let her emotions get the best of her, one that was rational and let him do as he wanted. You were perfect, there was nothing you did wrong, and somehow, he still despised you. Whenever he tried to make contact with you, you rejected him. There was nothing but one-word answers from your side. He felt that you hated him and that made him dislike you. He knew he would never be as charming as Jungkook, but you could at least try to form some sort of friendship with him. The most important reason however, was that he hated the way he felt when he looked at your emotionless face. You looked like all life had been sucked out of you, while at the same time there was a deep silence lying in the still waters of your eyes. It made him feel horrible, it was his fault, he’d never admit it. He knocked on the door of his mother’s bedchambers. “Come in”, he heard her weak voice call. He pushed open the heavy, wooden door and stepped into the room. She was sitting half upright on the bed, leaning against a mountain of pillows. The sunlight coming from the high windows hit her face nicely. He sat down in the chair next to her. “How is married life, son?” “To be honest, I barely talk to her”. The queen looked at him with a questioning look. “I just don’t really like talking to her”. “Why?” Yoongi sighed and stayed quiet for a while. He made a vague gesture with his arm and shrugged: “It’s like she’s not really there. When she always responds as short as possible and only speaks when spoken to. I think I don’t like talking to her because I know she doesn’t like me either”. His mother looks out the window a second, before speaking: “You think she’s cold?” “Yes exactly”. “Yoongi, you’re my son and I love you, but you’re not the warmest person either. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t like talking to you either”. “But I try so hard to seek contact with her”. “I think a husband and wife should have more than just contact”, the queen said, smiling. Yoongi was quiet again. “Could it be that you feel guilty?” At this Yoongi got up: “No that’s not it!”, he said raising his voice. “No need to get angry”, she said calmly. “I’m not, I just have things to do”, was the last thing he said before leaving the room.

You’re walking through the gardens of the castle. It was spring now and getting warmer. In this kingdom, warmer still meant well below what others find agreeable, but your people were used to it. People had started dressing lighter and the sun shone more often. You also felt lighter. After months of basically ignoring your husband, you had decided to be more welcoming. Your sister had been right. As a woman all you could do was make the best of it. About a week ago you had started being nicer to Yoongi. You smiled at him during meals and asked him how his day was going. Yesterday you spent the evening together playing a traditional board game. You suggested it. It was nice, you’d laughed together for the first time ever, even if it was still awkward. Things started looking up, maybe you could find happiness here after all. You let your hand brush over the newly growing flowers and enter the halls. Tonight was the night of the festivities and you planned to go to your husband and ask him what was expected of you tonight. You could ask any of your maids, but this was the perfect opportunity to spend more time with Yoongi. As you near the corner you hear giggling. Your ears perk, even with Jungkook’s presence everything happening at the castle was a grim affair. Giggling was not something often heard around these parts. “Your majesty, behave”, you hear a female voice tease. Dread fills your stomach. You round the corner and there he is, his hand on her lower back, his nose in her hair as she opens a door. He looks up for a split second. You don’t know if he saw you, you’re still quite far away from them. Even if he did see you, it clearly doesn’t matter to him, because he and the maid enter the room. You hear shushing and more giggling and then the door shuts. You welcome her back with open arms. That all familiar emptiness, or at least that’s what you wish this feeling is. It’s not, it’s pain. It hurts you more to admit it. It’s horrible to realise that you let this man get to you. You promised yourself you would never feel again when it came to him and here you were, seeing blurry from the tears trying to find your way back to your rooms.

Tonight’s festival marked the beginning of spring. Everyone in the city gathered on the main square every year to sing, dance and eat together. It was your favourite thing as a child. Today was the first year you couldn’t enjoy it. You were expected to walk through the crowd at the height of the festival. The king and queen first, although the queen wouldn’t attend due to her illness, then the crown prince and his wife and lastly the second born son. You’re waiting in the carriage. You and Yoongi are seated next to each other, Jungkook sitting opposite of you. The air is tense. You still have no idea if Yoongi noticed you earlier today. You have a feeling that he might have because he’s tenser than usual. So are you. “Alright someone say something before the awkwardness drives me to jump out of the vehicle”, Jungkook says while uncomfortably squirming on his bench. You and Yoongi both remain silent. “By Odin, I bet the mute choachman is better company than you people”. At this you let out a giggle, that in its turn makes Yoongi scoff. Wanting to relieve Jungkook of his suffering you offer: “What do you think the head druid will predict tonight? I hope not another failed harvest like last year”. “Me personally, I’ve been hoping for golden rain ever since I was a kid”, Jungkook jokes with that signature, boyish grin of his. “The druid’s prophecy is no laughing matter Jungkook, Y/N is right. We better hope for a fruitful harvest this year”. “Alright Mr. Cranky, maybe you should jump out of the carriage”, is the last thing Jungkook mumbles before getting kicked in the shin by his older brother. This time you laugh out loud and even if it was just unconsciously, Yoongi is proud that he was finally part of the reason why.

Your carriage arrives after the king’s and when you get out the mass of people outside cheer so loud you almost cover your ears. Almost, because you’re sure that if you did Yoongi would have something to say about it later. You and Yoongi link arms, which is probably the most intimate you’ve been since the wedding. You walk through the path of people to the thrones that have been set up at the head of the square. There are six thrones. The king and Yoongi sit on the two most extravagant ones in the middle. You sit next to Yoongi and Jungkook next to you. Two men are already sitting on the thrones next to the king. These are the head druid and his apprentice. At the end of the evening, they will perform a ritual to predict the fate of the kingdom. During the meal you and Yoongi barely exchange a word. After however, when you’re watching the city’s people dance, Yoongi chuckles at seeing a young man almost trip and light his hair on fire with one of the torches. The man manages to do a sort of twirl and prevent this horrible fate from happening. “That’s Jimin”, Yoongi states: “He’s a bit of an idiot but a good man. He’s the son of the farmer that delivers food to the castle. You might have seen him help his father with the deliveries, the old man is getting sicker and sicker”. You haven’t digested the events of this morning yet and honestly the fact that he’s acting as if nothing happened is pissing you off. “So, you’re just going to act like I didn’t see you grope a maid this morning?”, you ask without looking at him. “Y/N”, Yoongi start, but he’s interrupted by the booming voice of the king. You hate that man for the way he talks to you and for the way he speaks of his wife as if she’s a burden, but you have to admit you’ll always have respect for the way he can make a crowd of hundreds of people shut their mouths. “People of Sargon, turn your eyes to the fire. The Druid will perform the prophecy!”. His voice could reach the deafest of men. The druid got up. You had never seen him from this close. He was quite a young man; most druids were older than stone. He had pitch black hair filled with silver jewelry. It ran over his broad shoulders like a black waterfall. When he turned to bow to the king you saw his face. In your nineteen years of life, you had never seen a man so handsome. After that, his apprentice got up and turned to do the same. This man had dark eyes and an almost equally handsome face. “I think these druids have a potion to make themselves look better, it’s not fair”, Jungkook whispers. “You look fine Jungkook don’t worry about it”, you smile back. “Don’t ya think I oughtta get to the bottom of this then ey?”, he asks in that accent you’ve gotten so used to. “Yes Jungkook, as prince of the kingdom I think you should make it your first priority to find interrogate two druids on why they look so good”, you retort. “Exactly my thoughts”, he grins, but he can barely finish the sentence because Yoongi reaches over you to softly hit his brother upside the head. The druids walk over to the huge fire. The head druid reaches into his pocket and takes out some dried leaves. His apprentice is holding a wooden bowl with a purple looking oil in it. He dips the leaves in the oil and then throws them on the fire. For a moment, nothing happens. The square trembles with suspension. All of a sudden, the flames turn black. In all the years you’ve attended the festival you’ve never seen a fire this dark. It roars and seems to double in size. The head druid is caught off guard and stumbles to the ground. The flames shoot higher than ever, before turning back to their normal size and colour. Everyone is quiet. The man named Jimin, who was laughing seconds before is now looking at the druid with fear in his eyes. That same fear is visible in the eyes of each person in attendance. You feel the heat on your face fade away as the druid whispers: “war”.

After the druid had uttered the word war a shock wave had rolled over the square. The king had ordered the druid and his apprentice to accompany you back to the palace. Once arrived there, he immediately called all his advisors to gather in the main hall. You and Yoongi had followed them in. “What is she doing here?” the king’s voice sounded throughout the entire hall. “She’s my wife and the future queen of this kingdom. She needs to know what’s going on”, Yoongi defended. “Your mother never sat in on things like this”. “I plan on doing things differently”, Yoongi said sternly. The king grumbled but didn’t complain further. “Seokjin, what is the meaning of this”, the king yelled angrily, as if it was the druid’s fault that the fire had behaved this way. “I don’t know your majesty; all I know is that this means war. I don’t know with whom. I don’t know how long, and I don’t know how high our chances of winning are. The rest of the of the evening was spent with old men arguing with even older men about what to do. Eventually they concluded that we would have to wait. After hours the druids had managed to convince the king and his advisors that it was too early to decide anything, but the king decided to start training his men more fervently.

After this evening regular life continued, albeit with a dark cloud hanging above all your heads. Everyone seemed stressed and anxious at all times. You and Yoongi also went back to normal. Normal meant back to how it was before you decided to be nicer. You never brought up the affair with the maid again, and neither did he. That evening at dinner the king showed, once again, why everyone tried to stay as far away from him as possible. “Why is she not pregnant yet?”, the king asked, although a better term would be, demanded. Of course he didn’t ask you. He asked Yoongi and acted as if you weren’t in the room, like always when he said something about you. “I don’t know father. We haven’t had any luck yet”, Yoongi answers stoically, without looking up from his plate”. “I bet it’s her fault. She’s barren and tricked us into marrying her into this family”. “That is not it!” You raise your voice. You’ve barely ever said a word at this table and the king is made of the same thing your nightmares are made of, but you refuse to let him talk about you. The room becomes impossibly tense as the king looks at you. It almost felt as if you could feel his stare sting in your eyes. “Father, you will not talk about my wife like this”. Yoongi says calmly. “Oh, really son? So it’s not her fault? Is it yours then?” Yoongi and the king share 5 full seconds of murderous eye contact before the king delivers the final blow. “I should have known. The God’s refuse to bless you with an heir after what you’ve done”. Yoongi slams his fists on the table and gets up so roughly his chair falls to the ground. He storms out of the room and the sound of the door slamming can be felt in your ears long after he leaves.

Later that evening you are sitting in your chambers. You’re reading a novel when there’s a knock on your door. “Come in”, You say curtly. Yoongi steps into the room. He doesn’t peek his head in first like the servants do. He always enters rooms with the confidence of someone who belongs, something you could only dream of. At least now, when you were a child, you could do the same thing. Somewhere along the way you lost the confidence. It happened to every woman in this godforsaken kingdom. “We should talk about producing an heir”, Yoongi offers carefully. “Oh really, now you want to come to me. For months on end, you leave me alone in the cold of the night but when daddy dearest brings it up you listen”, you bite. “I just think he raises a good point. We’ve been married for months and people will start expecting good news soon”. “What is it really? Are you starting to get lonely, does our stone-cold crown prince need someone to warm his bed?” halfway through that sentence you had gotten up and started getting closer to him. He grabs you by the wrist of the hand you had been pointing in his face with: “You will not speak to your future king in that way!”, he spits through his teeth. You refuse to stand down, so you say: “Maybe my future king should go find another servant to produce a successor with, I bet she speaks to you in whatever way you want, doesn’t she?” Yoongi lets go of your hand. For a moment it looks like he’s about to say something, maybe even apologise. But then he disappears from the room without saying a word. You flop down on your bed. Maybe you were too harsh. You have to admit that you did desire a child to raise. It would give you something to do, someone to love in this cold castle. You would also be lying if you said you didn’t desire Yoongi in that way. When you saw him and that council hall a couple of weeks back. When he had argued with his father about protecting the country, when he had argued to stay calm and not make any rash decisions, he seemed in his element. He was good at this, he was good at strategy, he was a born leader. Seeing him like that had shot a feeling through your body like you’d never felt before.

taglist: @lifeless-firefly @emerald-notes @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs @jjkwifestyle @viankiss

#bts #jimin #jungkook #namjoon #taehyung #yoongi #bts headcanons #jin #hoseok #bts fanfiction #bts historical au #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts fantasy au #bangtan #fanfiction

[purpleyoonn]

Dance of Time 3

D A N C E   O F   T I M E

“A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.” -Bukowski

Summary: You were finally back in the hometown you left right after graduation, researching the mysterious manor that laid outside of the town limits. Your family was acting weird, and the owner of the manor seemed to know more about you than he should. Everything changed when you entered the manor, and you weren’t sure your dance with time was going to last very long.

Pairing: Vampire BTS x Human Reincarnated Reader

Status: Coming Soon

Genre: soulmate au, reincarnation, yandere themes, possessive boys, angst, fluff,

Warnings: smut, violence, tempers, mentions of death, murder, some explicit descriptions of violence, blood,

Chapter Warnings: more flashback scenes, yandere boys, major discoveries, not much 

Taglist:  @psychosupernatural @carolinexkpop @strxwbloody @strawberry-moonpies​ @dustyinkpages​ @iamkookiesforyou​ @anaspectoflife​ @btsw1fe​ @yoongisgirl69​ @toughbook​ @yoongibabs​ @mageprincess7​ @dahliasbouqet​ @wittyreader​ @peachandmomo​ @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered​ @m1sss1mp​ @yourleftsock​ @skyys-universe​ @cryingpages​  @drissteele​ @dustyinkpages​  @crushedblackroses​ @fluffy-canada-pancakes​ @blaaiissee​  @iiitsmaria​  @azazel-nyx​  @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i​ @knjkitten​ @kleirielk​ @foreverweareyoung7​ @lachimolala22019​ @namuficxs​ @94z-93​ @kimgmzmc​ @thenaverse​ 

Masterlist // Chapter 2 // Chapter 4

————————————————–

Previously on Dance of Time:

You were a little confused, why would he choose to pick you up when he lives at the manor? Isn’t that out of his way to come and get you? It didn’t make sense. Plus, how did he know where you lived? Yeah, you lived in a small town, but even you didn’t know where most people lived in the town. You tried to question Mr. Kim about it, but you never received another email before you fell asleep to the sound of the wind blowing outside your window.

It was the next morning, and you were waiting to hear a car pull up the road. It was getting close to nine o’clock, and you were waiting on the front porch. You were excited about getting to tour the manor and had been ready since seven this morning.

You sat against the old porch swing, your camera bag and backpack sat next to you as you wrapped your jacket tighter around yourself. Your grandmother and uncle had yet to wake up, leaving you to relax into the silence of the morning.

You were nervous.

You had a weird feeling about today, probably stemming from the weird dream you had. It was almost incoherent, a series of flashing images you couldn’t make sense of.  When you did try to make sense of them, your head started hurting, a pounding headache taking over until you had to try and take some Tylenol, hoping to have some relief before the day.

But that didn’t happen, as your headache became pounding and then your vision blurred.

The market was beautiful today as you walked slowly throughout the grass. You had tripped one too many times on it already and you knew your mother would surely punish you greatly if you were to rip the fabric of the gown she made you.

You couldn’t help but to move closer to the necklaces, a simple locket catching your eye as you stood in front of the vendor, a couple who seemed to be with child.

“That would look lovely on your neck, Miss.” You smile over to the woman, Mary, as she stood closer to you. She held it up to your neck and while her husband, Nicholas, held a mirror up for you to see.

“Indeed, it would, darling. If only our dear nurse had someone to capture her heart so, making the locket well within her heart.” Nicholas gestured back, noticing the ever-growing smile come across your lips.

“if only.” You turn around to see a man, his features blurred as he held his hand out for you to grasp as he bows a little in your presence. Your hurry to curtsey back, Lord… was surely not bowing to you.

“Please, Lord… do not worry yourself over a simple nurse.” You gesture softly for him to stand up, but he only continued to hold his hand out for you. His dimples bright against his cheeks as you finally placed your hand within his grasp.

“You are anything but a simple nurse, milady.”

“Y/n, are you alright?”

Your vision returned to see Namjoon; his hand held out to you in the same way the man in your vision was holding his. It shocked you a bit, your body frozen as it tries to determine if you were still hallucinating.

“Y/n?” Only when he asked again did you snap out of it. You quickly took his hand as he helped you off your front doorstep.

“I am so sorry about that. I haven’t been sleeping very well, you know? Sleeping in your childhood bed after so long can do wonders on you.” You chuckle, hoping he took your words as the joke you intended, letting out a breath when he laughs.

“I bet. Well,” He looks at his watch, a simple silver band that seemed to be engraved. “We should be going. I told my brother we would be there by nine.” You lean over to glance at his watch to see it was only a couple of minutes from nine o’clock, meaning you were running behind.

“I am so sorry.” You apologize as you lean down to pick up your camera bag and backpack, which Namjoon proceeded to take from you and move over to his car, placing them in the trunk.

“Please, Miss Jacquess, do not worry about it. I bet that once my brother sees you, all will be well.” You tilt your head a little at his words, not quite understanding why the sight of you would appease his brother but decided not to think about it.  

Namjoon comes back around when you get close to the car and opens the passenger door for you, his hand resting on the small of your back, sending tingles and other feelings down your spine as he helps you into the car.

When you are buckled, you look up to see him looking towards your home, a small smirk barely visible on his lips. You turn to see what he was looking at only to see your grandmothers small frame peeking through the curtain behind the window facing the garden. Her eyes were hard, but you could see the worry shining through, the fear tugging at her lips as the car was pulling out of your driveway.

“Now, Y/n, my brother can be a bit…boisterous. So, I do apologize in advance.” Namjoon looks away from the road for a quicks second to see a thoughtful look cross your eyes, your fingers tapping against your jean covered thighs.

His own fingers squeeze the material of the steering wheel, the smell of you so intoxicating that he had a hard time controlling himself. It had been years since he had been in such close quarters with you, and he could help but be relieved that this would be the first of many that he would spend in close proximity with you again.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry, Mr. Kim. My uncle can be the same way.” Was your only response. You couldn’t seem to get yourself to focus on anything, like the wind was blowing its song through your ears.

You were having major déjà vu, and it was making your heart race and flutter as you listened to the man driving speak about his property.

When you did finally arrive at the manor, you were quick to notice the tall man leaning against one of the pillars in front of the manor, holding up the beautifully crafted balcony. Your mouth almost dropped in shock as you looked at the man.

He was almost as beautiful as the house itself, the pout on his lips speaking for itself as he begins to walk down the stairs and to the car. As you move to open your door a hand stops you, fingers on top of yours, sparks shooting up your spine as you look into the dark eyes of the man from before.

“A woman should never open her own door.” His voice was soft, as if talking about the breeze blowing through the large pine trees in the front of the property. His gaze was even softer, and reminded you of something with which your brain couldn’t grasp.

“Y/n, this is my brother, Seokjin.” Your mind counted the way he called the man his brother, your soul not buying the relationship said by the man. It didn’t make sense to you. Your hand that was still in his grasp was now held, his hand bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your hand as he looked at you through his lashes.

“Please, dear, call me Jin.”

There it is. Another name that sends shivers down your spine causing you to pull you hand back into your chest, a nervous smile on your lips as the two men glance at each other.

“Alright, Jin. Thank you both so much for allowing me to join you on a tour of your family’s manor.” You push yourself out of the car, not wanting to be enclosed in the space longer than you had to. The day was starting to feel darker than you had hoped, and your mind kept telling you that something deeper was at play here; telling you that you needed to leave while you still could.

Jin could see the difference in you once you heard his voice. He wanted to smirk, the shivers down your spine the only indication he needed that you were back with them. He knew that you were ready, and that you were remembering them slowly.

Only when you stood a couple feet away from them, your camera bag in hand and your backpack on your back, taking photos of the manor did Jin turn to Namjoon.

“You are late.” His tone was clipped as he stared at you, your focus on the manor you didn’t even know was yours.

“I know. I showed up to her having a vision. Her eyes were white and I didn’t want anyone to see it.” Jin’s eyes flashed red for a second before turning to their normal black. He hummed in response, knowing that if the visions were returning this fast and this numerous that the gods truly meant this was their time.

“Eden realized too late that I was there. She peered through the window to see our darling already buckled into my car. I couldn’t help but smirk at her dejection.” They both let out a low laugh at the woman’s own fate being dealt to her.

“She should have known that we would intervene at some point. After pushing you to pursue school elsewhere, finding that stupid witch to place a cloaking spell. Well, it was time.” Jin growled out before shifting his demeaner and moving towards you, Namjoon following suit of his elder mate.

“Alright darling. Are you ready for the tour?”

-*-*-

The manor was beautiful, you couldn’t believe the amount of history you were standing in, contending with the likes of Stonehenge and Athens. There were hundreds of paintings lining the walls, gorgeous landscapes and portraits of probably past family members looking back at you as you walk with Namjoon and Jin, their voices echoing off the same walls.

“Now, Miss Jaquess, the history within these walls is as important to us as the blood within our veins.” Jin spoke softly as he stopped in front of the entryway. You could see a grand piano peeking past one of the walls and grew intrigued. You also noticed a couple of different things.

“This is our legacy.” Jin continued his probably prepared speech as you walked around, feeling Namjoon behind you as you saw the small, full garbage bin that remained next to the couches, their cushions rumpled as if someone was rolling on them. But what caught your eye the most was the fingerprints littering the keys of the piano as you neared closer.

For a vacant historical manor is sure did look lived in. You thought, writing your thoughts down in your notebook as you walked, following Jin as he spoke about the original floorboards that had yet to be restored.

You were at the foot of the grand staircase when you noticed a dark coloring on the floorboards. You stood to take a closer look when your vision blurred again, a quick image of blood spilling and soft moans filling your head before you were standing back up. Namjoon and Jin acted as if they didn’t notice anything, walking up the staircase as you followed suit.

Red eyes peered at you from behind the staircase, longing filling their body as the noticed your vision turn white at the spot where he first tasted your blood, where he first brought you to woes, your fingers curling into his hair. He couldn’t wait until you remembered him, remembered the way you felt about him.

You were welcomed by an opening that held several fainting couches and a nice Victorian rug as the centerpiece.

“This is where our ancestors would rest after their long days, their wife even having these ‘fainting couches’ made so she could loosen her corset.” Namjoon pointed to the layout of the opening before moving down one of the hallways.

The home was large, three separate floors not including the basement or the attic. It was one of the biggest buildings north of Sacramento when built, and it’s legacy continues today. You couldn’t help but be amazed by the history of the manor, hoping that your recorder was capturing each and every detail that both Namjoon and Jin were telling you.

Through the windows on the north corridor you could see the large garden, reds, blues, and purples shining brightly within the sunlight falling onto the property.

“Okay, so I do have some questions that I would like to ask, if that’s okay?” You speak for the first time since the tour began. The boys share another quick glance before Namjoon nods.

“Of course. What tour would this be if there were no questions to be asked.” His words had you calming down a bit.

“Okay. First question. Can you tell me why this manor was nicknamed the ‘Weeping Manor’?” You were still walking as you had your pen pressed to your paper, ready to write down whatever their answer was.

“I think you will actually find the answer within the last room.” Namjoon gestured to Jin who opened the door at the end of the north corridor.

The door opened into a large room, shelves filling the space as you looked towards the right, books with pages spilling out just calling your name as your mouth opened in awe. Right in front of you was a large oak desk, the top of it covered in your books and articles, you could even see some pieces highlighted or underlined as you slowly walked closer.

You felt nervous, the entire atmosphere shifting from joyful and playful to dark and eerie. You turned behind you to question Namjoon or Jin but they were gone. The door now closed and the room’s only light coming from the slightly open shades on the window behind the desk.

Your eyes flittered across the space, looking for the two men who seemingly disappeared into thin air, wanting to leave and be done with the tour.  You didn’t like the feelings you were having, the cold air brushing across your skin coming from nowhere.

“Mr. Kim?” You called out, turning back around to the door only to have your eyes catch sight of a large family portrait.

It was a painting of the property, dating back to 1838 when the manor was originally built, even before the town had an official name and place on the map. Seven men resided in the front of the portrait, sitting and standing in a line just in front of the large pine tree that resided to the right of the men.

You moved forward to get a closer look at the portrait when the tiny description just below caught your eye.

“The Kim Coven. Ca. 1838.”

Coven? What did that even mean? Your confusion didn’t end there but grew into shock and something like horror when you finally looked up to the faces within the portrait.

The man standing within the middle of the painting was a spitting image of the man who gave you the tour. The same man who met you at the local diner and exchanged emails back and forth with you.

To his right, and to your even deeper horror, stood Seokjin, eyes almost staring at your shaking from beneath the paint.

You took a step back, your hand covering your mouth in fear as you tried to back away from the painting when you bumped into someone. A whimper leaving your lips as you tried to quiet your sobs.

“Please…please.” You began to beg, knowing you were done for.  

“Oh, darling. Please don’t cry.” The man behind you coos, a hand moving up to move your hair away from your neck as a small kiss is pressed to your skin.

“You’re finally home.”

“Taehyung, love, I know you’re excited but you’re scaring our baby.” A voice from your left sounds out, the echo of his voice ringing in your ear as the man’s embrace on your abdomen slowly tightens.

“She seems more scared of Namjoon and Jin right now.” The man holding you hums, his nose pressed to the skin of your neck as you try to stop shaking. You couldn’t stop your tears now, even as you tried to force yourself to breath evenly.

“Please, I promise. I won’t say anything. I’ll never come back. I-I won’t write this article. Please.” You plead with the men, seven in all as they begin to move from behind the same shelves you were in awe of earlier.

You felt lied to, like a lion hoping for a meal only to be met with an audience wanting you to jump. Your brain began to connect the dots, pieces coming together that led to this moment.

“The sudden agreement to a meeting.” You begin to voice your thoughts aloud, receiving a humming in approval from Namjoon, who knew what you were doing.

“The table in the corner of the diner, where you didn’t eat anything.” Another hum, this time from the man who spoke to the man behind you.

“Moving the meeting to today instead of after the weekend. Almost like an urgency.” Jin couldn’t help but to roll his eyes at this one, knowing it was your grandmother’s fault for this point, not theirs.

“You knew my name before I even introduced myself. Recognized me despite not knowing what I looked like.” You looked up from the floor to see Namjoon standing in front of you, his portrait figure looking at you from over his shoulder.

“I—I don’t understand.” You let out, your brain missing some pieces still, unable to fully connect the dots. Your brain couldn’t comprehend the outcome without knowing who they were.

“You always were so smart, Y/n. Even then.” Before you could attempt anything else, your vision blurred again, for the third time that day.

“My love, I don’t understand how you can understand all of this.” His hair flew past his shoulders as he playfully threw your anatomy book from your lap. He instead took its place, his head flopping onto the material of your underdress, a smirk aimed at your affronted gaze.

“My love, why don’t you study my body instead?” A pillow hit his face before he could continue. Laughter bubbling from your lips at his scrunched up features. His hair now all over the place as he turned his gaze back to you.

“Oh, Yoongi. If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask.” You leaned down to place your lips on the man’s lips, moving to pull away only for his arms to trap you against him, smiling into your lips.

“Ellie, you are too smart for your own good.”

Your vision returned, this time the men were all stood in front of you, watching your vision return to normal. Your quickly caught sight of the man in your vision, Yoongi, you assumed. You touched your lips as if you could feel his lips, plush against yours.

“Who is Ellie?” Were the only words to leave your lips as sobs started to sound out instead. Their eyes seemed indifferent to your words, despite the sparkle of happiness glittering within.

“You.”

#bts #bts au #bts vampire #bts vampire au #vampiretan sonyeondan #bts historical au #historian mc #human mc #bts polyamory #bts poly!au #bts poly #bts poly au #bts poly! #bts x reader #poly!bts x reader #reincarnated mc #bts slight yandere #bts soulmate #bts soulmate au #dance of time #purpleyoonn

[minniepetals]

a thousand springs

— summary: when poison threatens to take your life away from them, they only wish they had more time with you

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, fluff, poly!au, historical!au, royalty!au

— word count: 11.4k

— warnings: poison consumption, talks of death, reader gains illness from poison that has the potential to take her life, injuries, hurt and comfort (happy ending)

— rec music: listened to jimin & ha sung woon - with you while writing this

You stare at the budding flowers in the garden, feeling a sense of serene as the gentle breeze allows you to get a better wisp of the smell, melting your tense shoulders almost instantly. 

“They’re almost ready to be picked,” you say into the comfortable silence as you crouch down to gently reach out to one of them as if giving attention to a child. You’re so soft, so gentle with them, and when you turn over to look up at the man behind you, the tender smile on your face softens his hardened features. “Don’t you think so, Jungkook?”

“Seems that way,” he says, and although you both know he has no clue about the flowers at hand, the way you giggle in response to his short answer makes him smile discreetly. 

“It has a strong sense of calm to them,” you say as you return your focus back to the blooming flowers. “I think it’d help Namjoon a lot. Ah and speaking of, Jimin and Taehyung should be back soon, shouldn't they? I assume Taehyung will probably go on a ramble about how annoying his missions are so I should prepare some calming tea for him, and Jimin will probably knock out the second he returns. By the way, Jungkook,” he falls at your every attention the second you call for him, holding a hand out to help you up without a word. “Seokjin mentioned he was running out of ink the other day, do you think you could accompany me to town later?”

He nods at your request while you continue rambling.

“Maybe I should get him a new brush as well. The man really loves his writings so he’s probably quite particular about what sort of brush he uses. Maybe I should ask him about it. But then again I sort of want it to be a surprise. He’d like that wouldn’t he?” Jungkook nods again. “Then, do you think you can help me?” 

He nods once more, already preparing to leave when you stop him by the tug of his sleeve. 

He turns around, wondering why you had suddenly stopped him when you reached up to pick something from his hair. 

“Looks like Spring is faring well,” you say with a sweet giggle as you reveal the pink petal plucked from his hair. “When the castle calms, we should go on an outing to enjoy the cherry blossoms.”

“If it’s what you want, I’ll mention it to Namjoon.”

“Hey now, you’re making it sound like I’m the only one who wants this. It’s high time you relax as well, Jungkook, enjoy yourself a little more.” When he shakes his head, you sigh with a small pout. “You boys are always running all over the place, never taking a moment to calm down. One day you’re going to regret taking up my offer. Can’t you do it? For me?”

“My missions..”

You frown when he says so, an upset expression forming upon your features. “Argh, you’re always so busy, aren’t you? If it wasn't for the fact that you have to remain as my bodyguard, I know you would have definitely gone with Jimin and Taehyung. It kind of breaks my heart thinking about it.”

“I…”

Seeing the conflicted gaze in his eyes, you laugh aloud. “Just kidding. Of course, I know your missions take priority so don't worry too much about what I just said. I’m sure when the time comes, you’ll—”

“M-My lady! Master Jungkook!”

The two of you turn at the retainer whose feet carry loud and heavy. 

“Come now, Wen, why’re you in such a h—”

“Master Taehyung is heavily injured!”

The second he announces those words, you can physically feel your heart dropping and Jungkook, who had been silent all this time, quickly hurries to carry you so that when he takes off, it only takes a few moments before you arrive at the main hall where a heavily injured Taehyung is carried with support from Jimin.

Your breath hitches at the sight of their bloody bodies, both hands coming up to cover your lips as you stand there, trembling.

“Tae—”

“I’m fine,” he dismisses your concern with a cold remark as Yoongi and Hoseok rush to the scene in order to help the two ninjas.

You walk over, brows arching with distress. “Clearly not.”

“I’m talking fine, aren’t I?”

God, why does he always have to be stubborn when it comes to his injuries? Still, you know you can’t do much except give the man his space as he gets carried off to his chambers with the doctor following right behind.

At times like this, you know you’ll just have to wait it out until the fatigue hits him and he doesn’t have any more energy to get upset about the mission. It doesn’t hide the fact that it hurts seeing him in such a state, however.

“Y/N, will you help Jimin?” Hoseok asks with a hand on your shoulder when you stood there, looking after Taehyung’s disappearing body.

You turn around at the older man, brows pressing together as you take a look at Jimin. He’s injured as well, not as bad as Taehyung but injured still.

Once Jimin is settled in his private chambers, you get to tending through his wounds without a moment of rest, knowing that you’d rather keep yourself busy than fret over other things. Whatever happened during their mission, they’ll have to eventually report to Namjoon but for now, all is quiet as you sit before Jimin, the sun already down as you watch over his cuts and bruises.

“Hey,” he breaks the silence after a while and you feel a hand holding you under the ear in order to tilt your head up to look up at him. “Taehyung will be alright,” Jimin assures, a gentle yet transient smile resting on his face.

Your expression breaks slightly. “Why does he always have to be stubborn?”

“You know how Taehyung is.”

“I just wish he’d let me care for him during times like this.”

“He just doesn’t like you seeing him in his weakened state.” You frown when he says that, eyes looking down once more to return your focus back on wrapping Jimin’s arm.

“That stubborn brat,” you mumble under your breath, causing him to chuckle lightly when the doors slide open and Hoseok walks in. “How is he?” You’re quick to ask.

“He’s just fine. It took some time but his stubborn ass finally decided to rest,” Hoseok reports with a sigh as he finds a space on the floor beside the two of you. “Jungkook’s watching over him.”

“Does this mean the mission was a fail?” You turn to Jimin, concern filling your features.

He sends you an apprehensive look. “It’s too early to say. Namjoon will probably have me and Jungkook return to the scene to pick up after my and Taehyung’s work.”

“But you just returned injured and look at what happened to Taehyung.”

“This is to help the Clan, Y/N,” he reminds you solemnly and you sit there, not wanting to hear the truth. Seeing as the bandages are all wrapped securely on his arm, Jimin reaches up to gently stroke your hair. “Come on now, don’t give me that look. We’ll be fine.”

“But..”

“I know what to do now,” he assures. “We just foolishly fell into the enemy’s trap but I won’t make the same mistake again.”

“How can you be so sure…” You mutter, still refusing to accept this despite knowing it isn’t your place to voice out such an opinion. You may be the Lady of the Clan but even then, any details that have to do with the ninjas’ missions will always go deaf to your ears.

“Because we have you waiting for us back at home.” He states it so surely you almost fall for the smile Jimin sends you but you know better than that. After all, despite the many years you’ve spent with them, it still worries you to no end when they run off to do some dangerous task.

Your heart will never be settled as long as you are the wife of highly skilled warriors.

Hoseok takes your hand in your silence and gives you a gentle squeeze. “They’ll be fine,” he says gently and you know you can’t do much to refute that.

Days later, Jimin and Jungkook disappear without a trace, most likely off to the said mission.

You can feel it when Jungkook’s eyes are no longer on yours. After all, he always watches over you whether in person or somewhere hidden in the air, so when you can no longer feel a watchful gaze, that’s when you know he’s gone off to do a mission.

The castle has gotten busy ever since that night.

“Are you coming to bed soon?”

Namjoon keeps busy at his desk with his brush rushing through the stack of papers before him even as he answers you. “Head to bed first, alright? I’ll join you soon.”

You know that’s a lie because one time you woke up in the middle of the night and there he was still at his desk, busying away.

Upon your silence and unmoving body, Namjoon looks up with a rueful smile once he spots your frown. “If you’ve gotten that lonely sleeping on your own, why don’t you join Taehyung?”

“Do you think I haven’t tried? He kicked me out as always,” you say with a huff as you stand from the bed and crawl on over and sit yourself by his side, eyes scanning over the complicated papers he has to read and write. “Want some help?” You ask as you look up at your husband, the Lord of the Clan.

He chuckles lightly at your offer of assistance and brings his hand to ruffle your head. “You haven’t the slightest clue what’s written on these pages, do you?”

“If you teach me, I can play my part.”

“I’d love to do that,” he says, pausing, “on another day.” You frown. “Go on now, stop being stubborn and catch up on your rest.”

“You should listen to your own advice,” you say as you crawl away but only to show up behind him, arms wrapping around his waist with your chin plopped onto his shoulder.

“What’re you doing?”

“I miss you,” you confess, nuzzling further into the cloth of his hanbok.

Namjoon says nothing to that and simply returns to his work, but from the corner of your eyes, you can see a small smile curled along his lips. He probably misses you too but has to unfortunately put his work before you.

That’s just what the head of the Clan has to do. Above all, throw his desires away to make sure things are okay in the Clan again. After all, Jimin and Jungkook are off busying themselves on a mission. He can’t slack off.

.

.

.

You take ahold of the brush at hand, brows furrowed in concentration as you stroke a finger upon the hair in order to get a feel of what Seokjin likes.

Hm.

How does one tell what’s a good brush and what isn’t? Jungkook was supposed to get the intel for you but now that he’s away on a mission, you have to take matters into your own hands. It’s hard though, you have to admit, because no matter how many times you brush your fingers over the hairs, you still have no idea what you’re looking for.

Perhaps the shop owner will have a better say in the field. You can just ask him instead. And besides, Seokjin’s probably a frequent visitor so they’d be likely to easily point out which brush it is that he likes best.

Yeah, you should do that.

“Y/N, what’re you doing here?”

You quickly put the brush back in its place before the doors slide open and Seokjin walks in, frowning slightly at the sight of you in his private chambers.

“I thought you enjoyed unexpected visitors,” you say as you stand to walk over to his side and help him carry a few scrolls in.

“You’re not exactly unexpected though.” 

You sigh when he says that. “Ah, by the way, I was planning on heading to town to pick up a few things so—”

“No.”

You blink at his quick reply. “Huh?”

“You’re not allowed out or go anywhere by yourself now that no one’s here to watch over you,” he states as he takes a seat before his desk. You place the scrolls down with a slight frown.

Duties, duties.

You’re basically stuck here now.

Ah, what good is being the Lady of a Clan when you can’t even go anywhere without an escort?

With your knees pressed up to your chest, you wrap your arms around them, cheek laying against your knees as you look out the open window upon the pretty cherry blossoms that stand just outside the doors. You know sitting like this isn’t very ladylike but for now, you don’t care as your eyes yearn for the outing you mentioned to Jungkook that one day.

Seems it won’t be happening this year either.

Soon enough the cherry blossoms will have all fallen and you’d be stuck watching them from the castle once more, unable to have the viewing and picnic you so yearned for ever since you were wed into the Clan.

“Don’t look like that.”

You turn back to Seokjin with a forced smile. “Like what?” The least you can do is pretend to not sulk over small things like this when they’re over here busy with castle work, just trying to maintain a good system.

You can’t be selfish.

Seokjin sighs knowingly and pauses in his readings in order to hold a hand out for you. “Come here.”

You don’t hesitate to walk on over and take a seat beside him, eyes eagerly looking up at the attention he’s finally giving you. He reaches a hand out to stroke your head, a gentle expression on his face. “Soon, things will calm down. Just wait a little longer, alright?”

Soon there will be no cherry blossoms to look at.

“I can wait as long as you’d like, don’t worry about me.” Still, you speak those words from the bottom of your heart, knowing that your selfish desires will only burden them. 

Seokjin understands your heart and frowns slightly because he knows he can’t fulfill them. “I’ll be alright,” you say, and he leans in to press a gentle kiss on your lips.

You take what you can get, smiling into the kiss.

.

.

.

A soft melody resounding into the silence of the night, Yoongi’s ears perk up at the sound, knowing just who is playing such a beautiful melody.

His feet carry him towards the sound and there he finds you sitting on the veranda, playing the flute as you would whenever you can. Most nights you’ll play it for them when things are less busy, on other nights you’ll play it in the loneliness of the night, the sound of the flute keeping you company.

He watches you for some time, just standing there as the moonlight brightens your beauty, closed eyes, fingers lightly pressing on the holes of the flute ever so often, your lips blowing air into the wooden thing.

How long has it been since he’s sat in your presence and simply listened to you speak?

You must be so lonely now that everyone else has gotten so busy.

So he silently takes a few steps forward and takes a seat right beside you. The music falters a little when you feel his presence but quickly picks back up when you realize that it’s him. Yoongi lays his head on your lap and rests his eyes, feeling the fatigue finally get to him now that he’s taken the time to settle down after such a busy day.

When the music dies down and you put the flute down beside you, he feels your fingers run through his hair in a gentle manner.

“Finally taking up my offer to rest, huh?”

Yoongi holds a hand out, flexing his fingers until you give him your hand. “There’s still so much to do but at least Jimin and Jungkook are returning soon.”

You gasp at the news. “Really?”

Yoongi nods. “We got a letter this afternoon.”

“That’s great news! I can finally go into town now.”

“Ah, is that what you’re excited about?”

You giggle at his lazy response. “I previously asked Jungkook to accompany me to town in order to grab a present for Seokjin and now that I think about it, maybe I should pick some things up for Taehyung as well. He’s still as stubborn as ever, refusing to allow me into his private chambers. Isn’t it rather unfortunate? Why does he choose to remain cooped up in his bed when he could be roaming outside, looking at the pretty cherry blossoms? Soon enough, the petals will all have fallen and we’ll have to wait a whole other year to see them again.”

When you look down at the man on your lap, you frown slightly at his closed eyes, breath slowing down. “Hey, are you even listening?”

“Mmn,” he hums. “Keep talking, I like listening to your voice.”

“Oh.” Well, you hadn’t expected that response.

“It’s soft and gentle, like a spring breeze. Though in honesty, nothing compares to having you here like this, not even your voice.” He looks up at you with a gentle squeeze to your hand, smiling softly.

“I…” You can feel your cheeks slightly heating up. “I like your voice too…” You say, gently, and Yoongi chuckles lightly as he sits up.

He puts a hand beside you, resting his body against it as he crowds you in, and before long, you feel his soft lips on yours.

Yoongi’s kisses are sweet and gentle, unlike his more serious and stern side whenever he’s on the battlefield or speaking during war council. This is the hidden and soft side only you and the guys get to witness, no one else.

You feel so lucky.

.

.

.

“Okay, this time, maybe he won’t kick me out.” You steady yourself with a tray of tea prepared in your hands, prepping yourself up because you know it takes effort to try and get Taehyung to open up. How many days has it been since he returned with his injuries? It’s been some time now so maybe he’s feeling a bit friendly today?

One can only hope.

Taehyung’s a stubborn man who doesn’t like to show you his weaknesses, getting rather upset and angry if you were to push his buttons because he’d rather be upfront and strong when he’s around you.

It’s dumb when you think about it but what can you do? He’s too stubborn to listen to your reassuring words otherwise.

As you round down the hall, a glimpse of a familiar structure catches your sight and your eyes are quick to brighten.

“Taehyung!” 

He’s strolling down the hall, his formal wear a bit exposing his chest due to the bandages that wraps all around his right arm. He rests them inside his clothes, letting them prop up against where the belt of his formal wear resides, and when he looks up at your call, Taehyung’s hard expression doesn’t change.

“Taehyung, I have tea for—”

He turns to slide open his door and walks right in, slamming it closed without a word spoken to you.

Your heart falls at his refusal, tray almost tipping over if you hadn’t been quick to keep a steady grip on it before it can do so.

Another day, another rejection.

Maybe if you talk to Namjoon, he can get the man to open up, but Namjoon’s a pretty busy man as well. Hoseok, perhaps? No, everyone’s busy.

As you turn around to make your way back to the kitchen, you feel dejected at the events of things.

Guess I’ll just have to wait until Jimin and Jungkook returns. Which shouldn’t be long.

Your lips press together into a tight smile as you give yourself a nod, confident things will work out again soon. Taehyung will be bound to show his presence once Jimin and Jungkook returns, he’d have no other choice.

You can bombard him then.

You giggle thinking about it when someone calls your name.

“Lady Y/N!”

You turn at the call to find a familiar retainer walking up to you.

“Good afternoon, Chan. How can I help you?” You greet with a smile.

“Well actually, I’m here to give you this,” he says, presenting a small jar of something green and herbal.

“What is it?” You ask as you take the jar, eyes scanning over the dried leaves. “Tea?”

“Yes, they have quite the strong calming effect.”

“Really?” Your eyes brighten a bit at his words.

“Yes. They’re quite rare to attain right now, my lady, but I know you love to seep tea ever so often so I’m sure it’d do you well to keep them rather than them staying with me.”

“No way, they’re that rare?” You gasp before looking back at him. “Thanks so much, Chan! I’ll be sure to make good use of them.”

“Of course, my lady.”

With that, you’re off to the kitchen in the annex that gives you personal space.

You set the tray you had in hand down onto a table before examining the jar you were just given.

Tea that has such a strong calming effect is hard to come by these days so you’re thankful to be given some and quickly get to work to begin seeping the tea leaves. While keeping your hands busy, a soft smile falls on your face as you think of your boys.

It’ll help them during this time and the other two ninjas will return soon so that’ll be even better.

You take a look outside at the gardens to find a cherry blossom tree just a few yards away, hoping and praying that maybe you will have time this year.

Just maybe.

“Surely this year will be the year,” you mumble to yourself as the tea is ready and take a small sniff of the content.

It smells like the forest, calm and crisp.

You take a sip of the drink and your eyes brighten at the taste.

“Great! Now to send it over to Namjoon and the rest.” You take a stand when all of a sudden, your head falls heavy and your vision begins to blur.

Huh?

“...mrmh.”

You try to speak but your throat constricts, each breath harder than the last as it begins to burn and the tray falls from your grasp.

Why can’t you speak?

Unable to get a grasp on what has been done to you, you rush to the inner kitchen where the maids and cooks should be, panic settling in your chest as your heart beats rapidly in ways you’ve never felt before. Something strange is happening to you, something painful, but you know you can’t just collapse right now, not before it’s too late.

Someone…help.

As soon as you hear the voices of the maids and cooks, the world pitches over one last time and your vision goes black. Needles of pain lance your arm, then your cheeks, and it is not until you feel the cold on them that you know you must have fallen.

Desperately, you try to move your arm, to drag yourself across the ground despite the fearsome cold that is overtaking you.

Namjoon!

But no matter how you scream for him in your mind, no words come out, and soon enough, you lose your consciousness completely.

.

.

.

“Hm?” Namjoon’s head jerks to the side. For a moment, it almost seemed as if someone was calling for him but the only ones in his chambers are Jungkook and Jimin who just returned from their mission, bowing forward formally with their lips sealed.

“Namjoon?” Jimin looks up, confused upon his Lord’s silence.

“Nothing, I just…I thought I heard something,” he says, brows furrowed in confusion.

Must’ve been the wind.

However, just as he is about to address the two ninjas once more, frantic footsteps race closer and closer to his door. Jungkook stands up to slide open the door, a frown on his face.

“Milord..! It’s Lady Y/N! She..she’s collapsed!!”

“What?!”

In an instant, the three of them are out the door like a shot, reports and business all thrown out the door as the only thing that falls on their minds are of you.

.

.

.

“I have done what I can for her, but now all we can do is wait and see what happens.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?!” Taehyung stands with rage as he takes the collar of the doctor with the one hand that seems to still be working well. “Do something, dammit!”

The doctor trembles in fear. “I-I’m sorry, milord, but she is in a very precarious position. There is nothing I can do.”

“Taehyung, calm down, getting angry isn’t going to help anyone.”

“Dammit!” He curses under his breath at Seokjin’s words, throwing the doctor off balance with a forceful push before falling to the floor as he stares at your stilled body resting on the bed.

Seokjin turns to the doctor, sighing as he helps the man up. “Thank you for your help, you may leave now.”

“Y-Yes milord.” He doesn’t hesitate to rush out the door, almost bumping into the three who had just walked in.

Namjoon’s brows furrow at the sight of the doctor rushing away, knowing what he had just heard, and almost freezes at the sight of you lying in your bedding. 

Your breath is shallow, or perhaps already gone, he cannot tell, with eyes sealed tight. You aren’t struggling nor do you look like you’re in pain, you’re just…lying there as still as a corpse, barely clinging onto life at best.

“What…happened..?”

“The maids found her unconscious near the entrance to your private annex,” Yoongi reports, a furrow in his brows. “She was brewing up some tea, probably meant to send it to one of us.”

“Tea?” Jimin asks, confused.

“It appears the culprit slipped poison of some sort, masquerading as a rare herb of sorts,” Hoseok states as he hands Namjoon the jar of the dried leaves.

Jungkook settles himself at your bedside, his eyes wavering as his hands tremble at the sight of you.

“What did the doctor mean by Y/N being in a precarious position?” Namjoon asks as he watches you from where he stands.

“Whether she lives or dies…is entirely up to Y/N herself.”

Silence fills the room as they can do nothing but stare at your still body.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Jungkook lays his hand against your cheek. He timidly strokes it, his strength gone at the feel of your skin, clammy and cold as if the blood has already frozen your veins. In spite of it all, the maknae breathes warmth onto his palms and presses them to your face, desperate to keep you warm.

.

.

.

Ah, so cold.

Why is it so cold?

You shudder at the feeling, teeth chattering uncontrollably as you hug yourself to seek some sort of warmth. Usually, your hanboks are enough to keep you warm but why aren’t they doing their job right now? Seokjin always made sure your hanboks are warm and filled when the weather gets a little too cold, always overprotective and looking out for your well-being.

Even during his busy times, he won’t ever forget to look after you.

But why is it so cold today? And so dark?

Something flies past you, a breeze, a warm breeze against your cheek, so you lean towards it, gasping lightly at the warmth.

It leaves for a moment then returns warmer than before, then slowly turns cold once more before the process repeats again and again.

No, you want it to stay. To keep you warm.

You take a step forward, reaching out, but nothing changes, so you run towards the warmth, desperate in your steps, until finally, something bright and white shines through the darkness of your consciousness.

“Y/N.” Someone calls you.

Huh..?

“Y/N.” It calls again.

The voice comes closer and closer as you run towards it, towards the light, until finally, you recognize its uncanny gentleness.

Jungkook..!

You open your mouth to answer him but for some reason, your voice refuses to leave your throat. All you can feel is the warmth against your cheeks, which you desperately cling to with little else you can do.

Why does he sound so sad? You can’t have that, you need to get back to him.

In an instant, your consciousness floods back, as if that warmth has yanked your body forcefully from the freezing water.

“..Y/N…”

When your eyes flutter open, right in front of them is Jungkook, his face close, terror and concern marking his features.

Jungkook? What’s wrong?

Your heart aches so keenly at the sight and as you open your mouth to call for him, nothing comes out, nothing but its shallow breaths opening and closing.

You can’t speak.

Terror fills you as you reach out to place your hand over Jungkook’s warm ones, and in an instant, his once lost and distant eyes come back to life as they greet you.

“Y/N!” He pounces forward in a gasp, the loudest he’s ever been with you, alerting the rest of the men in the room.

“Someone call the doctor,” you hear Namjoon command and feel a shudder through your veins.

Cold, you want to say, but nothing comes out.

Yet they seem to hear you as you feel Seokjin tuck the blankets up to your neck, a gentle hand coming to graze your cheek.

“You’re alright now, you’ll be alright,” he whispers as if casting a spell.

Someone takes your hands, breathing warm air into them, while someone else brings warmth with a touch on your forehead.

Ah, so warm.

.

.

.

It was the poison that took your voice away and unfortunately it won’t end there. According to the doctor, soon enough through the passing days, you’ll lose strength in your arms and legs as well, forcing you to remain at your bedside until eventually, the poison will take your heart if the antidote doesn’t run through the veins in due time.

You have a chance to meet death and you’ll do it in a slow, painful manner.

“Here, ah.”

Right beside you, Hoseok sits with a bowl of porridge in his hand, a spoon ready to feed you. You let him do the job, opening your mouth to take the food in before turning to your paper and brush to begin writing something down.

“I haven’t lost the strength in my arms yet. I can feed my own self.”

“Don’t be stubborn and let me take care of you.” You pout slightly and he laughs. “Seeing you like this almost reminds me of Taehyung. If only you could speak,” he says with a rueful smile as he reaches up to stroke your hair.

Not hearing your voice must be really hard on them as well.

Your brush dances over the paper again.

“Don’t you have a Clan to help run? You don’t have to stay here to help me, I’m fine on my own.”

“Y/N.”

“And if you’re that worried, my maids can help aid me so—”

“I’m not leaving your side,” he states, taking your brush away before you can write any further. When you’re forced to look up at him, Hoseok’s eyes are filled with concern and worry. “We’ll find the antidote,” he promises. “We’ll find it and things will return to normal again so please…please don’t push me away.”

You realize that he’s scared. Scared to lose you.

Chan had already taken his own life before anyone could get to him so your report on the matter didn’t matter so much. Currently, the castle is looking into his background, trying to find any link to anything, and although you’re not really sure what’s going on, something tells you they’re coming up empty.

Which is why every day, someone new stays at your side, taking care of you. They can afford one less person in the castle if it means staying by your side.

You’re doing okay for now but soon enough, they know you’ll lose the strength from the rest of your body if they can’t find the antidote.

They have to work fast.

.

.

.

A few soft knocks and in just a few seconds, the door slides open to reveal Taehyung in his usual attire.

He looks down at you with an emotionless expression. “What’re you doing walking around?” He frowns your way and when you beckon to the tea at hand, Taehyung lets out a sigh and walks back into his room.

This time he doesn’t close the door behind him. This time he doesn’t push you away.

A bit sad it has to resort to this but you take what you can get and follow him into the room, foot sliding the door closed before you walk on over to settle by his bedside. You set the tray down, seeping the tea in silence, before handing him a cup.

Taehyung takes it without a word, his stare piercing as he stares at you even while bringing the cup up to his lips.

“I didn’t poison it.” You bring a paper up as if it had already been prepared beforehand and he scoffs.

“I don’t take you as one brave enough to do that to me,” he mutters and you frown in response as if asking ‘what is that supposed to mean.’ He laughs inwardly to himself as he leans back into his bedding, body pressed up to the wall so that he’s still sitting as he drinks his tea.

You crawl forward to his side and he watches from the corner of his eyes as your eyes wander at the bandages on his arm.

A hand reaches forward, not before you look up to ask for permission. When he says nothing in response, you take that as permission and press a gentle hand on his injured arm. There is a furrow in your brows as you examine his arm, lips pouting slightly before you take something from your hanbok and show him another prepared paper at hand.

“Does it hurt?”

He shrugs. “It’s useless now.” Your eyes bulge out when he calmly sets the cup back down without saying anything further until you tug at his sleeve, begging him to speak more. Taehyung sighs. “I’ve permanently broken it so I can’t use it anymore. It still hurts a bit but the pain’s subsiding as if it’s no longer part of the body anymore.”

You sit there remaining in silence — it’s the only thing you can do — but when he observes your expression, it twists with pain and he sighs as he sits up straight once more, hand reaching out to wipe away the tears that have fallen.

“This is why I didn’t want you around. I knew you’d cry seeing me in pain.” You cry more and he frowns. “I know, I know, but I was going to eventually let you in once my body decided to no longer associate this arm as a part of them.”

“Stupid,” he sees your lips form out those words and chuckles ruefully.

“I get it, I get it. Now stop your crying.” Taehyung wraps his one arm around your figure and pulls you in close so that you can let your tears soak his bare chest. He gently strokes your hair as you cry silently into his chest until you can no longer cry and the tears have worn you out.

You lay there in his arms, body rested up against him, eyes falling a bit sleepy. Even then you keep your eyes open because you don’t want to sleep just yet. With your brush and paper off to the side, you use your hand to write invisible letters upon his chest.

“Stupid.”

He laughs. “I know, you’ve already told me that.”

“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”

“If that’s all you’re gonna write, I’ll kick you out.”

You look up at him with a disbelief stare, mouth gaped open before you huff and turn to leave his arms. If he doesn’t want you here then you’ll give him just that.

“Wait– oh come on, I was kidding,” the ninja says as he pulls you back in with his overpowering strength. You can’t compete with that, how can you ever? “I promise I won’t kick you out so just stay a little longer, alright? It was getting a bit lonely here.”

You look back up at him with a narrowed gaze before opening your mouth. “Stupid.”

Taehyung sighs and you press a hand to your mouth as your shoulders tremble.

He watches the smile on your face, missing the way it was so easy to hear your giggles resounding into the air. But right now he can hear nothing. Nothing at all. All that is are your pleasant smile, a hand over your mouth, and trembling shoulders.

No sound of music to his ears.

He misses your voice but he doesn’t say it, knowing you have it tougher than he does.

.

.

.

In the silence of the night, Yoongi lays on your lap, eyes closed as nothing is heard except for the cicadas. You sit on the veranda, his warm overcoat draped over your shoulders as you play a soft tune on the flute.

Your voice may have been taken away from you but that doesn’t mean you can’t blow wind into the flute. So you play it softly for Yoongi, knowing just how much it relaxes him.

“Y/N.” When you hear him call for you, you stop playing in order to look down at him, a questioning tilt to your head. Yoongi opens his eyes, staring at nothing before him as you run your hand through his hair. “Are you afraid?” He asks and you pause in your ministrations for a moment.

Admittedly, you give him a nod before returning to play with his hair.

“Right, of course you are.” When he says that, his field of vision suddenly turns dark as you lean forward to press a kiss on his forehead, as if telling him that it’s alright because you trust them. You’re afraid because it’s a natural thing to feel during grave times like this, but you trust them nonetheless.

“I love you,” he whispers into the night and you smile gently, mouthing the words back to him.

.

.

.

Jungkook watches you steadily from the back as you stroll through your garden, a soft smile on your face with a spring in your steps. You haven’t lost strength there just yet but he still worries as he keeps his eyes on you, ready to catch you if you were to fall at any moment.

When you turn around to catch his attention, he’s at your side in a split second. It’s gotten so quiet between the two of you now that you can’t talk. Jungkook’s a quiet man, after all, and you always filled up the silence but even though your voice doesn’t work as it normally would, the things you do as if you can still speak makes up for the silence.

You point down at a bush of flowers, mouthing out “ready” for him so he hunches over at the flowers, taking out the pruning shears that you weren’t allowed to hold because they didn’t want you to accidentally get hurt.

You crouch down beside him as you point to one of the flowers and he gets ready to cut the flowers but not before you tug at him to grab his attention.

When Jungkook looks over, you have a paper with instructions written on how to properly cut a flower off its stem. He reads them thoroughly, turning to the flowers to put them into practice with you guiding him along the way.

One after another, he cuts and cuts until you have seven flowers in your hands.

When he sees that bright smile on your face as you hand him one of the flowers, Jungkook knows he’s done a good job.

“For you,”  you mouth out the words and he takes it in his hand.

It’s beautiful, pretty, though not as pretty as the smile you give him. So these flowers were grown for them. You took care of them so diligently that he always wondered why. When he brings the flower up to his nose and looks at you with a soft expression, he wishes he could hear your laughter resonating through the gardens.

.

.

.

As you and Jungkook walk through the halls of the castle with you holding onto the six remaining flowers, you hear loud voices coming from somewhere down the hall.

Familiar voices.

“What the hell do you mean you’re going to march there yourself? You’re still healing, Taehyung.”

Brows furrowed, you look up at Jungkook who meets your eyes, his expression hard to read but you both know the voice belongs to Namjoon.

“I’m doing this for Y/N!”

“You’re doing this for yourself! Stop being selfish and stand down. If you march there now, you’re bound to fall into the enemies’ trap once more. Think logically, Taehyung.”

“Do you think we have time to think? We’re running out of time.”

“I know but if you just barge right in there, we’re not only going to be losing one of us but the rest of the Clan as well. I can’t risk that.”

Suddenly the doors slide open and Taehyung, who had opened the door abruptly, freezes at the sight of you who’s standing right in the doorway and silence fill the room.

Face still marked with anger, Taehyung lets out a noise of frustration before walking out the doors and down the hall, not caring to calm down even as you stand there, watching after him.

You look up at Jungkook who gives you a nod and heads down the hall to catch up to the older man.

“Y/N.” You look back into the room as Namjoon calls your name, his face filled with fatigue and exhaustion but even still, he flashes you a pressed smile. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

You walk into the room, sliding the doors closed as Namjoon settles himself back behind his desk, eyes concentrating on the tasks at hand and as you watch him, you can feel your heart aching at the sight of his weariness.

He looks so tired yet he’s still doing all that he can to find your antidote.

When he feels your presence beside him, he puts the paper down to turn your way. “What is it?” He asks and when he finds the flowers you have in hand, Namjoon gives you a small smile. “Are those for us?”

You nod.

“How pretty,” he says when you hand him one. “They’re the flowers you grew in the garden, aren’t they?” You nod. “I hope Jungkook helped you cut them and you didn’t do it yourself.” Another nod and he puts a hand on your head, ruffling it gently. “That’s my good girl.”

You wish you can help him in other ways but this is the only thing you can do for him as your heart aches, him not being able to keep the conversation up while you sit there frowning, hating the fact that you can’t do anything more.

.

.

.

War is coming soon.

They’ve found the story behind who Chan was associated with and it links right back to the mission the three maknaes had been dealing with for some time now. The same people who took Taehyung’s arm away poisoned you.

As you sit there in your room, you stare at your hands which seem to hurt a bit whenever you would flex them. Soon enough you won’t be able to hold a brush and write to them. Soon enough you won’t be able to walk.

But for now, you can still do things moderately.

“Is something wrong?” Namjoon gazes down at you with concern as he takes the hand you had been flexing. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head in response, putting on a smile for them.

“You can tell us if something’s wrong, Y/N,” Jimin says as he pulls up from your other side, his eyes kind and gentle.

You’re scared.

You’re scared because they have to leave soon, off to the battlefield in hopes of taking that antidote from the enemy, but who’s to say how much time you have left?

War doesn’t take a day or two. It takes weeks, months, but do you have the time?

When you take the brush into your hand, ready to write down your every worry, your every concern, you suddenly find yourself stopping.

You can’t.

If you tell them, they’ll worry and it’ll cause them more grief than relief.

“Y/N?”

“What’s wrong?”

The more you worry, the more concerned Namjoon and Jimin look, even reaching up to stroke your hair.

I’m scared, you want to say but don’t have the heart to. You hate the fact that you can’t speak but take their hands and meet their gazes.

“What is it?” Namjoon prompts.

They look so exhausted.

You take up your brush again, intending to tell them that you’re alright, that they don’t have to worry too much, but that in itself is a lie and even though you don’t want to tell them the truth about your feelings, you also know that you can’t lie.

They don’t deserve that.

But you also don’t wish to tell them all it is that is in your heart. You’re scared, terrified, and time only seems to be speeding up. Even your own hands are slowly beginning to lose their strength and soon enough you’ll be forced to remain lying in bed.

Your body feels so weak.

The brush refuses to move, leaving a dark blot of ink in the center of the paper.

“If you have something to say to us, it’s alright, just tell us,” Namjoon whispers against your hair, pressing his hands against your shoulders. Even that gesture alone threatens to tear you apart so you set your brush down, and look at him again. “Mmn. What is it?”

His voice sounds so gentle that whatever it is that’s happening seems like the stuff of nightmares, fading into obscure nothingness.

You wish you could fix all of this, that time would reverse back and you hadn’t been foolish enough to take the dried tea leaves Chan had given you. You wish him and Taehyung weren’t fighting, you wish you could make it all better.

It’s your duty as their lover to make sure the relationship is alright again once a fight breaks out between any of them. But, even when you open your mouth to speak, the words refuse to come.

You’re only growing weaker and weaker by the day and you’re scared to lose any of them. What if they don’t get the antidote in time and it strains their relationship? You don’t wish any of that to happen.

“Namjoon.” You want to call out his name, to make it all better, but there is nothing but silence. “Namjoon…”

Gently, his hand moves to rest against your cheek as Jimin takes your brush to set it down, then Namjoon lightly kisses you.

“I know,” he whispers. “I know what you want to tell me, Y/N.”

You feel Jimin’s hand on your other cheek and nuzzle into his warmth. They embrace you so tightly it almost hurts but if it means being in their arms is the last place you’ll be when your eyes close forever, you’d rather it hurt forever.

.

.

.

War council ends today with a tense atmosphere as the retainers all leave the main hall with grim expressions on their faces.

What remains of the room are your seven boys and just as Taehyung is about to get up and leave, you walk right in to steal their attention.

“Y/N? What is it? Do you need something?” Seokjin asks when they all look your way.

You present them a piece of paper, flashing it in front of you with a smile.

“I want to see the cherry blossoms,” it states. They notice the change in the font, lines a little more squiggly than usual, some of the letters faint, some more bold, and when they find your features marked with such a serene and calm expression, how can they say no to that?

.

.

.

“Careful, you might trip.” You look up at Taehyung with a slight pout and he rolls his eyes. “If you run off and fall on your knees, I’m not picking your ass up.”

“It’s not like you can with your one—”

“Oh, you wanna bet?”

You quickly shake your head with a silent laugh and instead take his hand despite his words, running off further towards the cherry blossoms which stand in a straight line, creating a beautiful path of pink petals right in between. The brightness in your face shines as you let the wind flow through your hair, loving the feel of the cherry blossoms against you.

When you shudder slightly at the cold, Namjoon has an overcoat draped over your shoulders, his hand gentle as he strokes your head.

“Don’t be too reckless now.”

You nod happily at his orders and quickly rush off elsewhere, leaving the two of them alone in silence.

“Seems someone’s finally found her smile. Do you really love the cherry blossoms that much?” Hoseok asks as he takes a petal from your hair while you look down, writing something despite struggling a bit.

“I love you spending time with you all more than anything.”

“Ah, so that’s what this was about?”

“The cherry blossoms are pretty though.”

“Of course. Though not as pretty as you.”

Your face flushes with red as you glare up at him. “Hoseok…” You word out and he laughs.

A harsh breeze passes by, causing a flutter to the pages of your paper so you hurry to press a hand on them, making sure they don’t fly away, but in doing so forget the overcoat over your shoulders as it flies off into the wind.

Oh!

You gasp inaudibly and turn on your heels to reach out and grab for it before it can get even further when suddenly you feel pain in your legs.

“Y/N?”

In the next moment, you fall on your knees, papers and brush falling into the wind, too weak in the legs to remain standing and in a split second, they’re right at your side.

“Y/N-”

You hunch over in pain as tears prick the corners of your eyes, a sharp needling pain stabbing at your legs. Terror crawls over them at the sight of your silent tears crying inaudibly. 

Seokjin picks you up without effort and as they begin to head back with you in his arms, in spite of the pain jabbing into your legs, when you lay against the strength of your oldest lover, you can feel his body trembling in fear.

.

.

.

Namjoon sits behind his desk, elbows propped over as his hands intertwined right in between, his leg jerking with anxiety.

They have yet to hear news of your wakening. You’re still breathing, still alive, but for how much longer? There are only two days left before they have to march to the front and it’s a relief, it’s a relief because soon he’ll have the antidote in hand but even then, he knows it will take some time before he finds it.

War doesn’t last for a few days after all, so once he leaves, will he even be able to see your eyes again before he returns? And what if it’s too late by the time he returns? What happens then?

He’ll be marching off to battle without having to see your precious eyes again.

Maybe he could hold it out for a few days, wait for you to open your eyes again.

No. He can’t.

He can’t delay it any further because he has to get the antidote.

The antidote.

“I’ll stay.”

Namjoon looks up at the unexpected voice, his eyes widening a bit as he stares at Taehyung who had just spoken those words. “..What?”

“My arm will hold us back anyway, so I might as well take over the duty of protecting the castle,” he states, eyes falling off to the side. “I haven’t trained hard enough with one arm to walk into the battlefield ready so just let me stay. It’ll be better than leaving Y/N alone.”

Namjoon hesitates for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” the younger one nods. In his eyes, there are regrets of not getting himself out there to train harder but even then, he falls determined to remain defending the castle and staying by your side while the rest of them marches off to the battlefield, fighting upfront to obtain the antidote to cure you.

Seeing that determination in his gaze, Namjoon nods. “Alright.”

.

.

.

When you wake up again, there is no one but Taehyung in the room, his back leaning against the wall as his head turns to the side, eyes mindlessly looking out the window. It’s a gentle breeze but still, you shudder and he’s quick to look back with widening eyes.

“You’re finally awake,” he breathes as if he had been holding his breath for some time now. When Taehyung walks over to your side with worry marking his features as he tugs the blanket more up your neck, you wonder how long you’ve been unconscious to make him look like that. “How do you feel? Are you alright? Do your legs hurt?”

You shake your head lightly but frown when you realize you can’t feel them nor can you feel your hands.

You can’t move them.

“What is it?” He asks when you look as if you’re about to burst into tears at any second.

“Hands,” you mouth, and with a solemn expression, Taehyung takes your hand from underneath the blanket to give it a gentle squeeze.

You sense the touch it just the tiniest bit.

Where are the others? You want to ask as you look around, frowning at the lack of presence in the room. Are they busy preparing for the war? But then why is Taehyung here in his usual wear without looking the slightest bit busy?

“They’ve already marched to battle,” he answers your unspoken question, causing your head to quickly jerk back with a flash of alarm in your eyes. “You’ve been unconscious for a week, Y/N. They wanted to stay until you opened your eyes but…your antidote takes priority.”

No.

They’ve gone.

They left without saying goodbye.

You didn’t get to say goodbye nor did you send them off as you usually would. What if something happens to you? What if they’re too late? You’ll never get to see them again and the last time you ever saw them was during the cherry blossom viewing where you had collapsed and Seokjin carried you back home.

“Hey, Y/N, don’t look like that.” You feel Taehyung’s gentle hand against your cheek. “It’ll be okay, you’ll see them again,” he says, a promise made to the wind. In spite of how afraid he is, he still smiles for you, a gentle smile so soft and sweet you can hardly tell it’s Taehyung for a moment.

Why do you look like you’re about to cry?

You want to reach out, to hold his face, to comfort him, but your arms won’t move a muscle and as you struggle against your inner thoughts, Taehyung wipes an unknowing tear that had fallen from your eyes.

“Don’t cry,” he whispers. “Everything will be okay.”

Terror wants to take control of you but Taehyung doesn’t let it. It’s as if he knows, as if he understands your frustration to want to help him, so he pries open the blankets and crawls in. It takes some effort because of his lost arm but eventually, he wraps his arm around you, a gentle kiss pressing to your forehead.

“You don’t have to cry anymore, alright? I’m right here.”

You look up at him as he wipes away the tears that are blurring your vision. You press a kiss to his collarbones then lean up, wanting to kiss him.

Taehyung chuckles lightly because you can’t reach up so he leans in to give you the honors.

It’s a gentle and sweet kiss, one you wish you shared with the rest of them before they left.

.

.

.

“Why am I getting a report that you aren’t taking your meals?” When Taehyung walks in through the doors, his expression is hard and grave. You can sense the anger in them but turn from his glare to look off to the side. 

He takes a moment, breathing in slowly before letting it out in order to calm his nerves.

“Y/N,” he sighs, and takes the porridge from the maid’s hand. She excuses herself without a word, closing the door behind her as she leaves, while Taehyung sits himself on your bedside, a frown in his expression. “Do you not have an appetite? Is that why?”

When you don’t answer him, he puts the bowl down to take your hand. “Look at me, please. Please, Y/N.”

With the desperation in his voice, you turn to look at him, pouting slightly while he looks at you with fear in his eyes. “Tell me what I can do for you,” he says, voice barely audible as he squeezes your hand, his head lowered. “How can I help, Y/N? What can I do? If you won’t take your meals, I…how is your body going to heal?”

It won’t heal, you want to say, not without the antidote.

“Please Y/N…please eat. Please? For me? The boys are out there fighting to get your antidote. Don’t you want to welcome them back with a smile?” He sounds so desperate, filled with so much pain as he watches you from where he sits, hating himself for not being able to do anything for you.

Your heart aches as you look at him, knowing just how much he’s blaming himself, and it’s during times like this when you wish you had a voice the most. You want to reach out and tell him that none of this is his fault, that he has no control over this, but you can’t.

You can’t.

So you let him help you up, let him press your body up to lean against his chest. He’s careful when he holds you, letting you use his body for support, as he reaches out to grab the bowl of porridge.

It’s hard because he has only one useful arm but he makes it work. He rests the bowl on his dead arm, steadying it carefully so that it doesn’t fall, while using his other one to hold the spoon.

“Eat for me, yeah?”

You open your mouth to let the spoon in, tears falling from your eyes, your heart aching, and despite how much it hurts to see him do this all for you, you open your mouth for all the spoons he feeds you until there is nothing left in the bowl.

When you finally finish, the bowl clatters to the floor and he lets out a sigh, letting his arm press against the floor behind him so that he can lean his weight onto it.

You rest there in his arms as he lets you listen to the beat of his heart. In the silence of the room, Taehyung presses a kiss to your head before resting his cheek right there. It is only until you fall asleep again does he let his own tears fall.

He doesn’t remember doing this for quite some time now. When was the last time he cried? Probably years ago, before he even met you. It’s been so easy to let his walls build up, sealing his heart from others, shutting you out even when you thought you were already in.

He wishes he hadn’t pushed you away so easily. He wishes he showed you more care, more love.

Why is it during the most crucial moments when people realize their mistakes all too late?

He wishes he had more time.

.

.

.

You struggle in your sleep once more, a retainer rushing to the private of his chambers where he sat behind his desk, looking over some documents. The second his attention is called in concern about you, Taehyung forgets the papers and rushes to your side.

You awake the castle once more in your wake of suffering and as you whimper and cry in your silence, he can do nothing but watch as the doctor tends to you, doing all that he can to at least postpone some of your sufferings.

When are the others going to be back?

.

.

.

“Feeling a little better now?” Once the room clears out and it’s no one but the two of you, Taehyung sits by your bedside once more, stroking your hair gently as he looks down at you with dark bags under his eyes.

You nod tiredly from where you lay and open your mouth to speak. He reads your lips so easily now.

“Is there any letter?” You ask and he reaches into his pocket to take out a piece of folded paper.

“We haven’t gotten any personal letters from anyone but the messenger stated that things seem to be going well for the time being. Maybe we’ll hear from them soon.”

“I want to see the cherry blossoms.”

He gives you a rueful smile. “Sorry darling, but they’re gone now. Summer’s in just a few weeks.”

Summer? Already? It feels just like yesterday the eight of you were walking under the cherry blossoms.

“Next year?”

He puts the letter back into his pocket to take your hand. “Yeah,” he squeezes, his voice soft and tender, “let’s go see them next year and the year after that, and the year after that. Until you tire of the cherry blossoms.”

“I won’t tire of them.” You shake your head and he chuckles.

“Then, we’ll keep seeing the cherry blossoms until a thousand more Springs to come.”

You nod in response, a sleepy smile resting on your face.

“Go to sleep, you deserve it after tonight.” You feel his hand stroking your cheek when your consciousness slips away.

.

.

.

“Y/N. A letter’s come.”

Your eyes light up. “Letter?”

“That’s right. So eat well, alright? And then we can read it together.”

You never get to read that letter, because halfway through your meal, you’re throwing up the contents, body trembling hard as your face scrunches up in the same, familiar pain he’s seen on your face during so many nights.

.

.

.

We’re coming home.

Taehyung reads the same words over and over again and the more he reads it, the more his vision blurs to keep him from reading any further. 

You’ve lost consciousness once more, having yet to wake even after three days. He had wanted to wait to read the letter with you but being as you have yet to open your eyes, he decided to go on to read it by himself. 

The words Namjoon displays should have relieved him, to release the tensions that have been weighing heavily on his shoulders ever since the moment you had first lost consciousness, ever since they left him alone to care for you. Working around the castle all on his own while taking care of you is a hard task but he doesn't regret ever offering himself to Namjoon when they knew they needed someone to stay at the castle for you. 

They’re coming back, finally, meaning they've gotten ahold of the antidote. He sits there in your room, the windows closed because you’ve gotten much too sensitive to the cold. It’s Summer but even then, your body temperature doesn't get any better. Your breath is shallow, barely there as you lay in your bedding, body as still as a corpse, almost like the first time they saw you when you had initially taken in the poison. 

But unlike that time, it almost feels as if you really won’t open your eyes again, as if he’s losing you, as if he’s already lost you. 

.

.

.

“Milord! They’re back!”

With a glance your way, Taehyung takes a moment before rushing out the doors, his feet taking him faster than he’s ever run before.

Once he’s right at the entrance of the castle gate, he can see the horses from afar, running straight for him with Namjoon leading the herd.

Ah. They’re back.

They’re actually, finally back. 

“Taehyung!”

“Taehyung! How’s Y—”

At the sight of the ninja’s tears, they freeze up in an instant, breath held against their throats, hearts as frozen as ice.

“Go,” he whispers. “Go before it’s too late.” 

They rush to your room where you lie, eyes closed, body frozen in place with a moving beat. At the sight of you, they can instantly tell why Taehyung was so frightened he had cried before them, something he’s never done unless the situation was actually grave. 

But you’re still breathing.

Still breathing.

Namjoon takes the antidote out and carefully spills the blue liquid in between your lips. Your face is as cold as ice when he touches you, trying his best to not let the antidote pour out. 

“You’re going to be okay now, my love. You’re going to be okay,” he speaks in prayers, a wish made unto the heavens.

They hope they aren't too late.

.

.

.

“Y/N?”

You feel a gentle hand grazing your cheek, one that you haven’t felt in a while. It’s warm and tender, filled with strokes of love as you feel your eyes slowly opening. Once your vision comes into view, you find Namjoon right above you, his brows arched with relief and anguish all the same.

Why are you crying? You want to ask.

“Hey, little darling, finally awake now, are you?” Jimin plays with your hair, his fingers gentle upon your head.

They’re back, you realize, but they don’t seem to be in their armors so maybe it took some time for your body to gain consciousness once more? The last thing you remember was throwing up the meal the maids had prepared for you, happily eating for some time because you wanted to read the letter that came for you and Taehyung.

You never got to read the letter.

How many days has it been since you lost consciousness?

It doesn’t really matter now does it? Because you’re awake now and feel a bit lighter on your body.

“How do you feel?” The doctor asks you moments later once they give the two of you space so that he can examine you.

You open your mouth to try and speak but still, nothing comes out.

“Seems it will take some time for you to regain your strength, my lady. Can you feel your legs?” You shake your head. “How about your hands?” You shake your head again.

“Has the antidote not worked?” Yoongi asks, his voice filled with worry.

“It’s working well, my lord. Her face is already regaining color as you can see, but you will have to give it some time before the lady can move again.”

“And her voice?”

“It may return with time. For now, make sure she takes her medicine and rests well. She will have to do some physical training on her body once it regains its strength but make sure she doesn’t push herself too much. Unfortunately, her body will remain weaker than before as a lasting side effect of the poison but that shouldn’t hinder her from doing her usual activities. Just make sure she doesn’t ask too much of herself.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Hear that?” Seokjin turns to you when the doctor leaves, his smile soft. “You’re okay now, love.”

You’re okay now.

You’re okay.

“Were you scared? You must’ve been so scared. But everything’s alright now so there’s no need to worry about anything else.”

“Welcome home,” you mouth and their expressions soften.

“Mmn. We’re home.”

#bts polyamory #bts poly #bts poly au #bts ot7 x reader #bts polyamorous #ot7 x reader #bts x reader #bts historical au #bts royal au #bts historical!au #bts royal!au #bts poly!au #poly!bts #poly!bts x reader #bts poly relationship #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader

[mirahuyooo]

Your Grace | myg

[Min Yoongi as a Duke]

— Unseathe your sword, warrior. You are home. in which, once upon a time, there lived a duke of the north and his wife

word count: 1,216 pairing: min yoongi x reader content/s: fluff, romance, angst, mentions of trauma from war, hurt/comfort, implied smut 👀 ambigous place names bc i can’t think much rn lol, possible nobility hierarchy inaccuracies (dont come at me, come after the manhwas i read lol), min yoongi as a husband in aNY AU IS A WIN, Historical Fantasy AU, Marriage of Convenience AU

[masterlist] | more [reactions & headcannons] &  [moodboards]

A/N: excuse me, i need something fluffy to get me through life rn 😭💖 also when people started calling these pics of yoongi as a duke, my brain went “haha, duke of the north male lead type of shii” and i just rolled with it lmAO AHWHAHHA i also thought to make some drabbles out of this AU! Let me know if y’all would like that?? Enjoy!

Also, send me ur headcannons for a duke min yoongi bc i’D LOVE to hear em 🤩💘✨

min yoongi, who is a young duke that took the title after his late father abdicates to travel the known world lol

min yoongi, who governs the coldest region of the kingdom (absolutely hates the climate, but loves his people)

min yoongi, who is a prodigy of the sword and one of the best swordmasters in the kingdom

min yoongi, who is renowned as a war hero that greatly contributed to winning the war against an enemy kingdom

min yoongi, who suffers from night terrors of the people he killed, of the people who betrayed him in battle, of all that blood and gore

min yoongi,  whose hands shake whenever he has to hold his blade, but knows he has to get ahold of himself to do his duties

min yoongi, who hates politics and is known to have a tongue as sharp as his sword in slandering nonsensical members of the court

“Frankly, I think this whole proposal of yours, Lord Lee, is a sham that I’m wasting my precious time on.”

min yoongi, who is very close with the crown prince, and thus, much to his chagrin, is one of his most trusted advisors that’s involved with even more politics and shenanigans

“No, I’m not helping you sneak out, Taehyung. We’re here as a foreign delegation—”

min yoongi, who definitely complains about all of the paperwork he has to do, but does so anyways (he does a fantastical job with it, thank you very much)

min yoongi, who spends a lot of his free time either sleeping, or reading in his enormous library to digest knowledge (he's a curious cat sometimes ok)

min yoongi, who is very much fond of tangerines and imports it whenever its in season (his mother used to peel them for him as a child)

min yoongi, who plays the old piano in the east wing whenever he can’t sleep and learns different music from all around the world, but always tends to play his mother’s lullaby

min yoongi, who is pressured to take a wife and is constantly flocked by lords intending to sell their daughters to him

min yoongi, who, to the shock of the entire court, offers marriage to the eldest daughter of a count to a fairly small province that hosted him during the war—you

min yoongi, who swears it’s only because your family wouldn’t have enough power to interfere with his and definitely not also because you were pretty and nice and helped him through a panic attack all those years ago

“I don’t know much about being a husband, but I do know how to be a man of my word, and I swear no harm will come your way.”

min yoongi who marries you on a beautiful summer day, because he thought it'd be nice for you to have a warm and bright wedding in the capital since you'll be living with him in the north where it's constantly foggy and the winters are harsh

min yoongi, who promises to make the wedding night as comfortable and as quick as he can for your sake (but why can't he help but crave for more?)

min yoongi, who is a pretty chill and attentive husband, actually

min yoongi, who made sure to arrange you lessons that'll help you adjust to your title as duchess in the north and in the social circle as well

min yoongi, who always does his best to eat his meals with you (it’s awkward, maybe you should strike a conversation or two?)

“I, uh, heard repairments are to be done on the east wing?”

“Oh, yes, actually. There’s also a new wainscotting design I saw on the capital that I thought would suit the wall so I thought it’d be perfect to have it done as well—”

(great job! you hit the perfect topic!)

min yoongi, who asks you if you’d like something whenever he has to make a visit to the capital and if you say nothing, he'll come back with something he probably consulted someone with—a new dress? a necklace? a popular novel? (damn it, someone help him out here!)

“Here… I, uh, heard it’s popular among the ladies at the capital…”

{gives you a dress in the rest popular fashion so you stay “updated to the trends” as he says it — regrets it, because youlookbeautifulohno—}

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you shyly smile, “It’s beautiful.”

(dead. he’s dead.)

min yoongi, who becomes furious to hear about the gossip surrounding you and goes into a rant about the pretentious idiots at court

“You are Duchess Min of the north. Do not let them slander you like that. Do not hesitate to remind them of what you represent. I gave you the same power as I have when I married you.”

min yoongi who attends every ball from that season on with you by his side to rub it in their faces that the duke of the north does care for his wife, thanks : ]

min yoongi, who was pleasantly surprised when you brought him peeled tangerines to snack on while he was buried under paperwork

“Would you… would you like some?”

min yoongi, who now also peels tangerines for you whenever you two idly hang out together

min yoongi, who finds it easier to sleep with you by his side, especially after you insisted to stay by him when he had a night terror

min yoongi, who likes to take a nap with his head on your lap because you tend to play with his hair when you think he's asleep (he falls asleep right after because of it aww)

min yoongi, who keeps his hair longer than usual because you said it suits him, and absolutely refuses to let others point out or touch his hair lol

“Your hair’s gotten longer, hyung—”

“Don’t. Touch.”

min yoongi, who beams with pride every time he hears the servants praise how well the lady of the house treats them and manages the household (he's also so, so glad he doesn't have to worry about that anymore)

min yoongi, whose heart melts seeing his people love their duchess and shower you both with praises whenever you make visits to the town

min yoongi, who takes horse rides with you around his territory and will never say a word of complaint even if he’s freezing his ass off (pls make him something warm after you two go back to the castle lol)

min yoongi, who always makes sure you stay warm after he heard you go down with a fever (just how many layers do you gotta wear now? jeez)

“While I appreciate your concern, Yoongi. I don’t think I’d need a third fur coat…”

“But—”

min yoongi, who asks you one night if you, at all, regret marrying him and finds himself anxiously waiting for your response

“I find myself very fortunate to have married a man like you, Yoongi. I don’t think I’ll ever regret it.”

min yoongi, who is very relieved and enamored to hear you shyly say that (his gummy smile is unstoppable, o h n o)

min yoongi, whose heart flutters as he smiles down at your sleeping figure after your late-night talk together

Perhaps, this is a better arrangement than I thought…

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 : @mwitsmejk @dreamamubarak @unknownwalkingobject @bloodline1632​

#i wrote most of these at 3 AM lol #im so soft rn #bts au #bts historical au #bts headcannons #bts writing #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #min yoongi x reader #bts moodboard #min yoongi imagines #min yoongi headcannons #min yoongi as a duke

[sweetcarrotsandroses97]

Flames Of Love | PJM

Pairing: prince! Jimin x fem! concubine! Reader

Summary: A tragedy. A new reign. A cruel order given by the king. Prince Jimin was forced to leave his home in the palace while trying to save both his and your life. Yet you both ended up burning in the flames of your love. Wrong time. Wrong life. Right person and a story that crumbled to the ashes of destiny.

Warnings: fluff, angst, character death, poison, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, cruelty, royal au, historical au, fratricide, suicide, feelings of fear, frustration and anguish, harem, mentions of a contagious disease, (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2.1k words

~Prompt 4: Snuggling by a cozy fireplace

~Snowflakes divider by @samspenandsword

~Prompt list by @flightlessangelwings

A/N: This was inspired by historical facts during the Ottoman Empire as well as Romeo & Juliet, please enjoy and let me know your thoughts in the comments!

Snow was falling from the dark skies, the winds were strong, breaking through the thick branches of the tall trees. You shivered, tightening your outer robe around you as if it would help chase the cold away.

You felt an even thicker robe fall onto your shoulders, you looked up only to spot Prince Jimin sitting down next to you.

"Wouldn't you be cold, Your Highness?"

He smiled softly at you, his arm going over your shoulders as he pressed you to his side.

"No, your love warms my heart, Queen of my heart."

You sighed, eyes trained on the improvised fireplace you both had made inside the cave you were hiding. The flames were reflected in your (e/c) eyes as you allowed yourself to get hypnotised by the burning fire.

Jimin bit his lower lip in worry, fighting a shiver that threatened to travel down his spine. He had been on the run for three months now, winter had started and he knew he had to leave the kingdom before the cold would get even more crude.

The young prince had lived a luxurious and care-free life but his peace crumbled down like a paper plane when his older brother ascended the throne. According to tradition, the king must murder his brothers to keep the order during his reign.

He was wanted in order to get killed.

And this situation only escalated when he selfishly took you to escape with him. You were one of his concubines in the harem yet he only wanted you. To him, you were a red rose in a garden of white daisies. Every woman in his harem was of an enchanting beauty yet you, to his eyes, were mesmerizingly beautiful. Inside and out.

If he hadn't taken you with him, you would be dead by now considering you were his woman and couldn't ever bed with any other man.

Times were difficult and life was cruel. Jimin left with you by his side for he couldn't fathom the thought of your death because of him. Of leaving you behind in the palace and causing your demise all because you had fallen in love with him.

If he were to die, he'd die with you. Though to society you were a mere concubine, to him you were his Queen. The woman who commanded his heart and thoughts. He loved you. Just as ardently as the flames that danced in front of him on that hectic winter night.

"Have you heard of Min Yoongi, Your Highness? They said he was arrested."

Your whispered words brought him out of his thoughts. He sighed, resting his chin over your head as he closed his eyes, in desperation or redemption he could no longer tell.

"I did, (y/n). We won't be able to escape in his boat next Monday."

A moment of silence passed by, only the sound of the flames cracking in front of you and the strong wind whistling outside could be heard alongside your beating heart for the man who held you so affectionately.

"Will the king kill him?"

Your voice made his heart shatter in millions of pieces. You sounded so scared, so broken. Lost. When he had once listened to your voice command, he had heard the melodious sound of your laugh and your soft whispers under the moonlight as you both rested under his silky sheets.

"I don't think so. Yoongi is a clever man, he knows what to do."

You nodded against Jimin's chest in silent agreement though your heart still ached for the soft yet stoic man who had been willing to help the prince and you escape without hesitation.

Jimin looked behind him, spotting the last reserve of wine in his possession. He had personally saved that one for when this moment would come, hoping with his entire being that he wouldn't need to use it.

His right hand reached for it with trembling fingers. His own heart clenched at the thought of what he was about to do. You snuggled deeper into his embrace and tears clouded his vision.

"Let's enjoy our last wine, mmh? Are you thirsty?"

You nodded at his question and he brought the bottle up to your lips, allowing you to drink as much as you pleased. When you were done, Jimin brought the bottle up to his lips, hesitating to drink from it. Yet his mind was made when you buried your head in his chest.

He drank the wine and dropped the bottle to the side, rolling on the dirty ground.

"Isn't it beautiful? The fire, I mean."

He chuckled softly, tears gathering in his eyes at what he had done. To you, to him, to you both. If he were to go to hell, he wouldn't mind it for he had already been in heaven when you were by his side.

"You are more beautiful, (y/n) of mine."

You looked up at him, your eyes met his in an intimate dance of emotions. He didn't know he was crying until your hand rested on his cheek, your thumb wiping the lonely tear that had left his eye.

"Don't cry, my prince. We'll find a way to leave this kingdom. We'll get married and live like we have always dreamt of."

He smiled through his tears, his eyes closed with the motion and you couldn't help but smile as well.

"We will, my beautiful (y/n). You'll be mine and I'll be yours."

In this lifetime or the next one, my love.

Your head rested once more against his chest, your hands around his waist as your eyes focused once more on the flickering flames.

"Can you sing to me, prince of my soul? That song I like."

Could he deny you in a moment like this? Never. He had never denied you anything you wanted, anything your heart desired was yours with just a word leaving your lips. And now, when you both were on the brink of death, chased down to die and burning with the flames of love from the heavens above, if you wanted him to sing, he'd sing until no voice would remain in his throat or the poison he just drank took his life first.

His soft voice resonated across the walls of the cave, you smiled with your eyes closed, feeling a tiredness seep into your bones. The melody you had heard plenty of times before sounded now like an angel whispering in your ear the secrets of the universe.

"I love you, Jimin."

You whispered and he was barely able to hear those words leave your lips. His arms tightened around you, feeling as you fell asleep next to him while snuggling together by a cosy fireplace. Your hands went limp on his lap as you succumbed to the tiredness that suddenly invaded your body.

You fell asleep in his arms, never to wake up again. Jimin let out a sob, holding your body impossibly close to him as tears left his eyes and ran down his cheeks like endless rivers of pain, of desperation and guilt.

"I love you too, my (y/n). Queen of my existence."

He laid you down on the thin blanket behind you both with him by your side, already feeling the effects of the poison taking control of his mind.

His eyes closed, inhaling the smell of your hair for the last time before his heart froze in time next to yours. The last beat of his heart was dedicated to you and the life you had dreamed together, hoping to meet in the next life in simplicity yet still with the flames of love burning like the sun.

The next morning, the sun illuminated the snow-covered paths. The light reflected over the white thickness that had fallen from the sky and the ground looked like it was covered in diamonds.

Kim Namjoon, Captain of the King's private army galloped through the forest, his soldiers behind him.

The man of noble origin had been tasked by the king himself to find his brother, kill the concubine he had escaped with and bring the prince to his presence.

Namjoon's heart ached at the thought of what fate was going to deliver to you and Jimin. All because he was born after the now king, all because you had fallen in love with him. All because the fire of your love didn't melt the ice of the cruel law that chained Jimin to live in fear for both his and your life.

Namjoon had been following Prince Jimin's steps since he escaped the palace yet he brought the young prince as much time as he could, hoping you and Jimin would get the chance to escape the kingdom.

However, the king was growing impatient and sent yet another Captain to look for his brother and the woman he had claimed for himself. This only put even more pressure over Captain Kim Namjoon who wanted to at least spare your life.

He had met you before, in one of Prince Jimin's parties he organised every season of the year. He could tell why the prince had fallen deeply in love with you. Viewing you as if you were his Queen and he were a mere peasant not worthy of even breathing near you.

"Captain! I see a small cave, maybe His Highness and Lady (y/n) hid there during last night's storm."

A younger soldier by the name of Jeon Jungkook and Namjoon's right hand spoke against the freezing breeze that cut through the dried branches of the tall trees.

Namjoon sighed when he spotted the cave, directing his black horse to walk in that direction without a word. Jungkook and the rest of his soldiers followed him with only the crunch sound under the horses hooves resonated over the quiet forest.

Nothing would have prepared Namjoon for what he saw once he entered the cave, Jungkook was by his side. Both men were speechless as they saw the frozen body of Prince Jimin embracing you, his concubine and lover in this lifetime.

"They are dead, aren't they?"

Asked the younger soldier. Namjoon took a deep breath, eyes landing on the burnt sticks of the fireplace that only a couple of hours ago were still alive.

He picked up the empty bottle of wine, the only container he saw laying around. Namjoon smelled it, only to retrieve the bottle from his nose the next second.

"Poison. I'd say they drank it last night. That fire was still alive earlier today."

A melancholy invaded the men's hearts, like claws of a demon that threatened to crush their hearts. Was this the consequence of time? Of love? Was death the only solution Jimin saw for you both?

"I don't think they suffered at the end. Maybe they chose to die in their own terms, by their own hand. Together until the end."

Namjoon let out a deep sigh after the soft words that left Jungkook's lips. The oldest one turned to look at his friend and subordinate, his eyes were serious with a sadness lingering in his dark orbs.

"Listen to me, Jungkook. You saw nothing here, you understand?"

The doe-eyed man nodded, jaw clenched as he gazed at the man he admired the most in this world.

"I understand, Captain Kim."

With that, both of them exited the cave with slow steps and heavy hearts. Namjoon stood in front of his soldiers as he said in a strong voice.

"This cave will be sealed. A really decayed body is inside and I suspect it was infected with some kind of unknown disease. In order to keep His Majesty's reign safe, no-one will ever enter this place again."

The men obeyed their Captain's orders, sealing the cave with heavy rocks, hiding the tragedy of love behind that wall of stones.

Namjoon made his horse turn around, his soldiers following behind him in respect and loyalty. Jungkook glanced at his friend and superior, reading the melancholy in the man's eyes as he rode ahead.

Namjoon questioned himself if what he did was right. He didn't have it in himself to separate Jimin from you when the decision of parting together was made. He'd respect that; the final desire to rest together until you both could meet in the next life.

He only hoped the flames of love would still burn within you, a concubine seen as the Queen of the prince's heart. An innocent love lost by cruel rules. A destiny fueled by death with only embers lasting as the proof of the flames of love between you and Jimin. 

December/23/2023

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

#jimin #jimin x reader angst #jimin fanfic #bts jimin #winter event 2023 #sweetcarrotsandroses97 #historical au #bts royal au #bts historical au #park jimin x reader #jimin x reader #jimin x you #park jimin #bts #prompt list #bts fic #bts angst #namjoon #jungkook #bts fanfic #love #death #angst #jimin fluff #jimin angst #fluff

[btsmosphere]

Trade my Life | KSJ

~summary: once, you were just two children giggling in the corner of the dojang, trading equally in punches and hugs, everything a game. but that was long ago, and now that man stands day after day outside the door which separates your two worlds. is the throne really worth leaving the barrier unbroken? ~pairing: bodyguard!seokjin x royalty!reader ~word count: 2.3k ~genre: angst, fluff, action, historical au, childhood friends to lovers, secret/forbidden love ~rating: nc17 ~warnings: non-sexual nudity, non-sexual intimacy, nothing explicit, jin calls the reader ‘princess’ but she literally is so note: the next part may well have other warnings relating to violence/fighting; this chapter only contains sparring in training

~a/n: welcome to my contribution for the catch of the century collab to celebrate our lovely Jin’s birthday!! how I miss himm already.. if you also do, you can check out the other amazing works in this collab, all featuring jin getting up to some sporty shenanigans! I’ve been sick lately and haven’t quite managed to write everything I had in mind. while this part of the story can be read as a standalone, it will also be part 1 of 2 for Trade my Life - there is more action planned on the way!! let me know if you want to see more/want to be tagged in the next part! lastly, if you know anything about taekwondo, you know more than me!! I consulted with some friends and our good buddy the internet to write this, and didn’t want to get too technical. but don’t judge me too much if it’s all wrong🤣 enjoy the story and shoot a comment my way if you do, it always means a lot💜

Sitting silently on your stool, your eyes followed the palace woman out of the door. She paused in the doorway, bowing to the guard on duty before turning to slide it closed, leaving you alone. Her eyes remained dipped, not meeting yours.

A moment passed, her footsteps retreating.

She had just helped remove your hair from its low knot, the pins now laid out below your mirror stand. Little did she know as she reverently brushed out your strands, you had no intention of keeping them so tidy.

With a sigh, you eyed the doorway, the silhouette of your guard still visible through the lattice.

Pressing your hands to your knees, you stood swiftly, without a noise. You had seen to it that you had been seen in your night clothes, and now you padded across to the bed, bent to extinguish the lights.

The room dimming, only a small candle at your bedside remained.

Instead of slipping under your covers, you simply bent to retrieve it, taking care not to jostle the small flame as you trod steadily back across the space.

Back at the dresser, you slid a drawer open, fishing out a simple leather tie. Pulling your hair back, you fastened it at the nape of your neck without needing to check in the small mirror.

Next, to the wardrobe. Quietly pulling it open, you ignored the rich colours and silk of your hanboks, pushing them aside while your fingers search with practised ease in the near darkness only stopping when they reach the slight bump in the wood.

Pressing down, you let the secret compartment unlock and open under your touch.

Set into the base, concealed well, was a small well. Of all the secret things you could have stashed there, the sole thing taking up the space is a neatly folded white garment. Hands falling on the cloth at last, you pull it out and shake it open.

Your dobok.

This may not be the kind of possession one would expect a princess to treasure so dearly as you did. But as you pulled it on, you feel yourself begin to relax, body filling with a confident anticipation.

All that was left was to wait. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long; Jin was never late.

Blowing out the candle, you crept back over to your bed and sat. You could hardly keep yourself from the edge, but forced yourself to sit straight and breathe, willing patience into your restless body.

Before too long, there was movement. It wasn’t loud, not in the least, but among the stuffy silence, unbudging as ever in the castle at night, you caught it clearly enough.

The guards were changing.

Your door muffled the mumbling of pleasantries and soft footfall, and the vague sounds soon ceased. In the room lit only by waning moonlight, you practically held your breath. Waiting the necessary time, though it was time you hated to waste simply sitting, you finally rose to your feet and moved back across the room.

As each night, you reminded yourself of the precautions. If it was someone else, you would simply ask for a drink and retire.

Luckily, tonight did not bring such disappointment. On easing the door open, you were greeted with the profile of the face you had longed to see since sunrise. His slender face, calm but eyes joyous as he turned towards you.

You smiled at last, breathing out deeply.

“Jin.”

He wore a small smile, but still bowed deeply to you.

You rolled your eyes.

“Just come inside.”

“How very forward of you, your grace.”

You fought off the urge to laugh, instead shutting the door a little too forcefully and giving him an unamused look. Of course, your hard stare did nothing to discourage him: in fact, he practically grinned as he turned away from you.

With a huff, you walked after him

“I have a name, you idiot,” you swatted at his head as he removed his gat, “when we’re in here you can use it, at least.”

“As you wish.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice before he turned around. He set his gat on the dresser and faced you as he unclasped the Sai knives where they where sheathed to his belt. At last his eyes were back on you, holding a strip of fabric taught between his hands and just under his eyeline.

“Are you ready, Y/N?”

Finally, you gave a warm smile.

Stepping to close the space, you held your hand palm-up for him to begin. The moment the cloth touched your skin, Jin’s practised fingers wrapping it securely, but not suffocating around your thumb and wrist, the tension from sneaking around began to bleed from you.

He gently turned your hand over with a brush of his own fingers, now passing the fabric over your knuckles. It was the best way to train without ever showing a sign of it.

Letting go, Jin moved to your next hand. With the wrappings, your focus zeroed, the sensation preparing you for the next. Your excitement at spending the next few hours with Jin, pushing yourself and no doubt falling into bed satisfied and spent, fizzled into a concentrated spark.

Jin clapped his palms around your wrapped hands, looking down at you with an indulgent smile of his own.

“Show me what you’ve got tonight, princess.”

You tried not to be disappointed when he stepped away, leaving the short distance your spar would start with. His distance at least aided your focus, and you drew yourself up taller, rolling out your shoulders.

As he implied, he waited for you to make the first move, a punch which he easily blocked, almost smiling.

That was okay, the two of you were just warming up. And you hadn’t come this far without a shred of friendship, you knew he respected you.

Hopping backwards, just out of his reach, you waited with your weight light on your feet, ready to react. You read his movements as he pounced with a side kick, and met him with one of your own, blocking him and bringing a hand up for good measure.

You had no need to shove him off; he darted backwards, slightly circling. You fell into the orbit as well. Already, the blood was rushing to his face, and you knew yours must be the same. It certainly felt like it was powering through your veins, loosening your muscles.

Continuing, you let the rush carry you with instincts, eyes well trained by now to analyse Seokjin’s movements, to spot openings and threats.

A kick for a kick, often retreating again, forever dancing on your toes. At his next however, you felt ready to launch another.

As he fell back, you followed, a turning kick to his stomach which of course he easily withstood and blocked. But your momentum was already shifting, and you span with another kick, foot coming level with his head-

He moved from its path, but you could go no further. His rough hand caught your waist, fisting in the fabric and trapping you against him. A punch completed your planned attack, and he caught it in his hand, stopping your fist at his heart.

Though you had not been aiming to throw any serious force and risk hurting each other, you still scuffled against him from the swift movements. You balanced yourself against his chest, then finally froze.

Grinning down at you, he lingered in the hold for a moment before dropping his arms.

“Very good,” he appraised.

You, too, darted back with a small smile, but soon schooled it from your face.

Falling into your familiar rhythm, you read Jin’s movements and responded in kind. You had built this up since you were half your height, back in the days when he was smaller than you.

This had become a ritual for you, one of the few things that stayed the same. While now, he was taller, and there were less feet in the wrong places, flooring or winding each other and leaving you giggling and red on the floor, it was yours.

He would step back, drawing his elbow back and you would strike his hand where it had placed the target on his hip. Forwards, and you hopped back, precisely kicking lower. Next was higher, and quicker, higher still. You hit his palm beside his neck, and he didn’t even flinch away, eyes steady as they analysed your performance.

Falling back, you stayed on your toes, arms loose and ready for the next.

And so it continued. The focus your mind settled into was more grounding than anything else in your day. Your reading never as calming, calligraphy never so precise.

It was deep into the night when you rested once more, your bodies buzzing with exertion but more content than ever. A sheen of sweat had coated you, and you rid yourself of the dobok.

Your chambers opened into an inner courtyard, where you kept a small bucket below your window. No other lights were lit when you pulled open the shutter, the warm night air still cool against your heated skin.

Bending to wring out your dobok in the water, you heard Jin quietly returning his knives to his belt, only a gentle clatter reaching your ears. Then, steps, and as you straightened up to drape the garments on the ledge, you felt fabric against the bare skin of your back.

Jin pressed closer, his breath warming your neck. His clothed chest brushed your shoulder again as he reached over your shoulder for something just beside the window.

Reverent hands lifted your tail of hair, a cloth meeting your skin a breath later.

Fighting, and in training, Jin was all sharp eyes and sharper fists, one of the swiftest guards. That was why he was allowed to guard the princess’ quarters, after all. But in between, he was always so slow, savouring the time you both knew would be taken away with the sun.

The soft cloth dragged across your neck, and you gasped as it was replaced by softer lips. One hand continued the cloth’s path down your arm, the other carelessly releasing your hair from its tie, where it fell comfortably against your now-clean skin.

But Jin was paying most attention to your neck, your throat, his tantalising kisses treading a blazing path to your jaw. Your head was thrown back, inviting him.

Finally, you turned your head to meet his mouth, a lazy smile shared between the two of you only by feel. You spun in his arms, and he welcomed you, circling your waist.

Somewhere the kisses lapsed, easy silence engulfing you as Jin finished wiping you down. You were cooling down by now, but felt all kinds of warm inside as you leaned against your ledge, watching him drop the cloth and plop one more kiss onto your thigh.

After a shared smile, he climbed to his feet, now standing over you. Fingertips trailed your waist, and he leaned down for one last kiss.

There was no urgency, no what next. Just the long, slow movement, of him against you.

He ran a hand down your tresses as he stepped away, letting you close the shutter. You threw your drying dobok on the headboard, where you could quickly remove it next morning before your lady opened the bedcurtains.

Once in your bedclothes again, you followed Jin to the door. You had no intention of going to sleep while he still had his shift.

But you had to accept that this was your life now. The door closed and you sat with your back against it, knowing Jin stood just the other side. You murmured the odd tease through the door, trying to ignore the wooden barrier that kept apart any playful touches or glimpse of a smile.

You fell asleep to thoughts of how it used to be. Dreams where the door fell away, dissolved, and you were two children again, and you were bunched in the middle of the class with the rest of them, only the hair curled tightly at the nape of your neck indicating your difference from the boys with close-cropped locks.

You had been humoured, then. Anything to get the princess to let off some energy, give the nannies a break and hopefully you might focus on the necessary studies for the rest of the day.

Back before the reigns had tightened until they were practically choking you, you felt almost free. Hounded back home the same as the other small children, only yours was to the palace quarters. Mother reading to you but someone else tugging your hair into order.

Even humoured you when you shrieked about Jin, tried to demonstrate what the kwanjang had taught you that day (while priceless ceramics were hastily removed from the path of your flailing feet).

And it had always been Jin. The boy that never laughed at you for being a girl. Of course, he laughed at you for falling over and for getting dirt on your face and never knowing how to tie your hair if it fell out.

And you laughed right back.

You couldn’t even remember how you became partners, and friends just as quickly. It was like it had always been. The two of you whispered when you should have been listening, you bickered and tried to show off, then apologised again and again when you knocked the other down wrong. All it took to soothe bruises was a secret trip to the kitchens.

It had changed. Gradually, but it had. You watched Seokjin grow, while your time was shut indoors more and more. You saw him don the red robes of guards, proud and capable.

And you decided you wanted the same.

Thank you for reading my lovelies! Please tell me what you thought, that makes it all worth it!!💜

Find my main bts masterlist here

Taglist - send me a message or ask to be added: @aianloveseven​ @preciouschimine 

#catch of the century collab #kim seokjin x reader #jin x reader #bts jin imagine #kim seokjin imagine #kim seokjin fluff #jin fluff #jin historical au #bts historical au #bts joseon era #bts royalty au #bts royalty #jin scenario #seokjin scenarios #bts forbidden love #bts enemies to lovers #bts fluff #bts angst #kim seokjin angst

[btstrology]

I read a BTS ot7 x reader long time ago but I don't remember the name... the plot was something like y/n was a medical doctor and went to the palace to work but the king mistook her as the possible bride of their sons (bts) but she doesn't dare to say that she is the new medical doctor of the palace, the king was sick and I think the Queen hated y/n. I don't remember much more but I remember it contained smut. Does anyone know the name of the fic? It was a historical au.

#historical au #bts ot7 #bts poly fic #bts smut #bts historical au #bts x reader

[chimtaesty]

moonlit destiny PART THREE ; ksj!king au

pairing: princess!reader x king!jin / 1.5k words

warnings: angst, violence, anxiety, strong language, trauma

plot: marrying a king of a far away country seemed to be your biggest problem, but gradually falling in love with a man who is deeply hurt and isn’t able to control his rage turns out to be more troublesome. And soon you get a taste of what betrayal, loyalty and a country full of lies mean.

A/N: yo, I'm on my third week of lockdown :)

comment down below if you wanna be added to the taglist.

masterlist ; story masterlist

You hadn’t spoken to Jin since yesterday, the way he freaked out when you mentioned your plans to visit Taehyung's exhibition made you want to throw up. Never had someone laid their hands on you nor did anyone ever demand something this trivial from you. You were determined to visit his brother's presentation, eager to see something else than these plain walls and the waterlilies out in the ponds.

You made your way outside. Eunseo and Dawon, your servants, by your side as Seunghun, the guard who was instructed to stay by your side, closed the door behind you. “Good Morning, Seunghun.” you smiled as he bowed his head with a small smile. “Good Morning, Your Grace.” you only rolled your eyes and nudged his arm. “What did I tell you to call me?” you sighed and hooked your arm in his. “It’s just us.” Eunseo chuckled at you, enjoying your bright nature.

“Alright, Y/N.” You nodded your head and smiled ahead. “I’m heading to Taehyung's exhibition, if my fiance asks.” You smiled at Byounggon, another guard you had the pleasure to get to know. He nodded and positioned himself at the entrance of the gate, since you would be leaving.

The ride in the carriage was quiet until Seunghun spoke up. “You know that Emperor Kim would have my head if he heard me call you by your name.” you nodded and patted his knee with a small smile. “I don’t particularly care what he likes or not.” You were still mad at him, they knew that much. “He won’t like you visiting Sir. Taehyung either, after he forbade you.” 

You shook your head with a small grin on your lips. “My dear Dawon, you worry too much.” she only shook her head as she smiled at you. 

“What else can I do?”

–

“He actually let you come?” You turned around with a smile on your face as he bowed to you. “He doesn’t know I’m here.” you bowed back at him. His eyebrows shot up as he gently pushed you towards the first painting. “You’re quite brave.” You only scoffed as you looked at the work of art.

You didn’t understand art nor did it particularly interest you, you weren’t here because you loved Taehyung's paintings so much. You were because of the fact that Seokjin forbad you. The fact that you being in his brother's presence annoyed him to the point of almost hurting you infatuated you. 

“How are things with him?” you both stared at the painting, not at each other. It shouldn’t look like you two gossiped, like you actually had topics to speak about. “Does he treat you better than Eunbi?” You only sighed and shrugged your shoulders. “How would I know?” you paused as you moved on to the next painting. 

“He got angry yesterday and forbad me to come here.” He scoffed and slipped a quick glance at you. “Yanked me around like a ragdoll.” you complained. Taehyung crossed his arms as his jar flexed. “So he’s just the same.” You only sighed. He turned, ready to move on to the next art work. “He seems to like you though, fight back when you can.”

-

Seunghun helped you out of the carriage, Dawon and Eunseo waiting for you with small smiles plastered on their pretty faces. “Miss Y/N.” Dawon whispered as Seunghun offered you his arm once again. She pointed up the small stone way, there he stood. Your fiance, Kim Seokjin, stood in the doorway of your home.

“He’s probably super angry.” You sighed. Seunghun only tugged you forward. You made your way towards the man, his chin raised in a threatening manner. “Leave!” he demanded, startling Seunghun, Dawon and Eunseo. “Leave me with my fiance.” he spoke a little calmer. “Don’t talk to them like this.” You bowed to your friends, patting Seunghuns arm as he positioned himself next to the entrance. “I’m fine.” you whispered to Eunseo as she dragged Dawon with her.

Jin slammed the door shut and stood still, only his heavy breathing audible. You took your jewelry off as he started to yell. “Who do you think you are?” he sat himself down on your shared bed. “Running off to an event I forbid you to attend.” You rolled your eyes as you gave him an angry look. “Who do you think you are? To lock me in here like an animal.” you slammed your hand on the small table. “I get it, you’re the king. Everybody falls to their knees to your command.” you walked up to him, bending yourself down to his face.

“Not me.” you paused. “I’m not one of your servants. I’m not someone you can disrespect and threaten all the time.” You were all up in his business now, noses almost touching as he only glared at you. “I want to attend whatever event I want and I don't need your permission, do you understand me?” His eyes widened as he stood, mouth open. “I’ll play the little wife, believe me.” you now jabbed a finger in his chest. “But I won't have you treat me like shit in private. I won’t have you treat me like Eunbi.”

That was low, you knew that. She tried to kill him.

“She has nothing to do with this.” he spoke, voice defeated. You now wondered if you were too harsh on him. He didn’t say anything now, sitting himself down. “You have to trust me, Jin.” You carefully got closer to him, grabbing the back of his neck as he snaked his arms around your waist. His head rested on your stomach as you played with his hair. 

“I do.”

-

You once again sat at one of the ponds in the palace, the east pond was your favorite. The small pool of water had fish in it and the water lilies floated so peacefully over the water, it gave you a great amount of relaxation. “You must be his fiance.” A cheerful voice broke you out of your daze. You turned around and came to look at a beautiful woman, not much older than you.

“I’m Seola, one of his concubines.” she smiled as she bowed and sat herself next to you. “I’m Y/N, I’m Seokjin’s fiance.” you gave her a crooked smile, not sure what to make out of this situation. “No worries, he hasn’t shown up in weeks.” she smiled and crossed her legs next to you. “I just wanted to meet the woman herself.” you gave her a small smile. “Well, here I am.” you sighed, diverting your attention to the pond again.

“Trouble in paradise?” you only chuckled at her. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

She nudged your shoulder and smiled at you. “I’ll listen.” You smiled and declined, you didn’t need his concubines snitching to him about how much you disliked him at the moment.

“No thank you.” Seola pouted and leaned herself against the handrail, resting her head upon her arms. “Okay, too.” You both stayed quiet before she broke the silence. “You don’t have to be alone, you know.” Your eyes found hers. “I’ll be your friend, if you need one.”

You scoffed and leaned back on your hands. “Being friends with one of his concubines, I don't know.” She got up and gave you a small sad smile. “We’re all just humans, right.” she paused before giving you a pat on the shoulder. “Think about it, Y/N.” she walked away, leaving you alone.

-

It was late, the middle of the night actually as Seokjin left you in bed. He was quiet, trying his best to not wake you up but you were awake when he sat himself up. You heard every sigh and every grunt he tried to suppress. Every shuffle sounded in your ears clear and loudly.

You laid still as he got up, opening the door and leaving you behind in the middle of the night.

You sighed as you turned around, facing the ceiling.

“What is happening?” you sighed as you got up. Your feet hit the cold floor as you made your way to the door, sliding it open as quiet as you managed. Jinyoung's eyes widened as he caught sight of you. “Your Majesty.” he spoke quietly, a bow followed his greeting. You waved towards the guard. Jinyoung and Hyunsuk were here during the night, guarding the front and back of the palace building. Seunghun and Byounggon guarded the house and you during the day. The men were Seokjins and now your personal guards, some of the few people Jin seemed to trust.

“Keep me company, Jinyoung.” you pleaded quietly. He nodded his head and placed a chair he fetched from inside next to himself. “Of course, Your Majesty.” he gave you a small smile. You patted his arm before sitting yourself down next to him. You wanted him to sit himself down with you for several nights, he only denied your pleas with the excuse of having to do a good job at guarding you.

“You’re a good friend, Jinyoung.” you sighed before closing your eyes as you snuggled into the chair. “It’s an honor that you consider me your friend, Your Majesty.” he smiled, looking ahead. “Sleep well, Your Majesty.” he paused before adjusting his uniform. 

“I’ll keep you safe.”

masterlist

taglist:  @teamtardis-notdead @little7bitchh @mgnedx @ayyyocee @kittychatonnoir @kimahnjung98

#bts #bts au #bts jin #bts seokjin #bts angst #bts jin king au #bts historical au #bts fanfic #bts jin fanfic #bts jin imagine

[rozy-cheeks-and-downcast-eyes]

▸ pairing: hybrid?mermaid?siren!jimin x reader

▸ genre: hybrid!au?, historical!au, fantasy!au, mermaid!au?, fluff

▸ summary: to escape a forced marriage, you board a ship that sails to a different country. On the way, however, the ship was hit by a storm. You wake up on a strange island which is inhabited by an undiscovered species.

Rules:

☞ header and story idea are free to use

☞ likes/reblogs are appreciated

☞ tag me if you write one of these (would love to read them :D)

#purplearmynet #bts #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #park jimin #bts fantasy au #bts mermaid au #bts hybrid au #bts historical au #ficideabymina

[ggukkiereads]

hi hi! i hope you are doing well! ♡ just stopping in to say that you are amazing and i your fic recs will come in handy on these extra days off i have thanks to the hurricane! ♡ stay well and be healthy and happy always! (CEO JK is in planning, but the Jin mini series is almost done if you are interested in that!)

🌷Hi Vanessa! How are you? I hope you are well and safe too! CEO!Jungkook? Is this from my favorite CEO BTS series? Is it his turn next? I am excited!!! 🥰. I am subscribed on AO3 (and wattpad I think? I remember seeing the fics there first) and I will check notifs once it’s here. 

I have read the first few parts of Whims and Inconsistencies because Pride & Prejudice themed fics are my weakness!  I remember someone sending me an ask for regency-themed or Bridgerton type of fics and thought of this! I just couldn’t find time to do fic rec lists lately so I wasn’t able to respond to that.But OP, hope you can see this and try this fic out!!!

Anyone looking for historical, victorian, regency, etc. type of stories can click the link. Saw there is a Jungkook spin-off too =) 

Please take care @hisunshiine and hope for only bright and happy things for you. 🥰

..

#the hurricane has been terrible and I hope people recover soon #🌷 chats #happy thoughts 😍 #hisunshiine #recsfromthegarden #whims and inconsistencies #bts x reader #bts historical au #bts bridgerton

[pennyellee]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings (preview only): minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, incision wound, blood, suicide attempt, strong language, mentions of God, ...

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 583

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

author's note: well, yall, life is getting in my way, it's certainly keeping me from finishing this chapter, but it shouldn't be that long before I actually do. I wanted to drop a little preview before the sacred day I was born, which is tomorrow, 1-2-3 birthday depression. Enjoy the preview and stay tuned for the chapter. I'll be also answering some asks tomorrow, yes, i see them, and i love you all so so so so much, I just have very little of free time lately. See ya soon! lots of love, p. 𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡🫧

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI CHAPTER VII CHAPTER VIII

Time seemed to slow as Yoongi lunged forward, reaching out to stop her, but it was too late. The blade sliced through her skin, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as pain seared through her, her vision swimming with darkness. She felt Yoongi’s hands on her, his panicked voice calling out to her, but it was distant as if coming from a faraway place.

“Seokjin?!!” he shouted, his voice raw with desperation.

He cradled her in his arms, his hands trembling as he pressed against the wound, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood.

The sound of loud footsteps echoed in the corridor as others rushed forward to reach the doctor, their expressions a mix of horror and disbelief. But amidst the chaos, Y/N’s empty gaze remained fixed on Yoongi, her eyes still burning with flames.

“Stay with me, baby. Don’t leave me please.” Yoongi whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. He pressed his lips to her forehead, willing her to hold on, to fight for her life.

But as he looked down at her pale, lifeless face, he knew that the road ahead would be long and fraught with challenges. For now, all he could do was pray that she would survive, that she would find the strength to forgive him and that they would someday find their way back to each other.

“Please don’t take her away from me, my Lord.”

Yoongi prayed that it was not too late to save her from the darkness that threatened to consume them both.

One thing remained clear in Yoongi’s mind: he would do whatever it took to save her, to make amends for the pain he had caused, and to prove to her that his love was worth fighting for.

Yoongi’s voice cut through the turmoil, his words a desperate plea for forgiveness. He begged for her to forgive him, to give him another chance to make things right. No more secrets, no more lies. No more pain. He was willing to rebuild their relationship from the ground up, on a foundation of honesty and trust.

The metallic scent of blood mingled with the tang of fear, thickening the air with a palpable sense of impending doom. He ripped one of his sleeves a while ago, pressing the roughly crimpled fabric to the wound, praying that Seokjin was near. Or did anyone hear him scream frantically enough to relay the message?

“You can’t leave me, baby, please. I promise we’ll work everything through.”

He kissed and caressed her hair with his free hand which was covered with her blood. Tears blurred his vision as his hand trembled at the sight. A blood he never wished to shed.

“Please, Y/N, you have to forgive me.” The weight of his actions pressed down on him like a leaden blanket, suffocating him with the weight of his mistakes.

“Fucking goddammit Yoongi!”

—

Y/N set the plates on the table, pouring the hot water into a kettle of green tea as he joined her at the table. They exchanged smiles, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the kitchen and the windows providing a magnificent view of the sea.

“I’ve been thinking,-” she said with a smile on her face while she set the seaweed salad down in front of him. He hummed in response, reading today’s paper.

“About opening my practice.” He nodded, sipping his tea thoughtfully.

“Thought you wanted to wait until the babe arrives?”

.

.

.

.

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

PS: accounts highlighted in pink cannot be tagged, so if you want to be in the tag list, please make sure you have it allowed in your settings. 𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

tag list: @beautifulcloudfestival - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyyyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss - @secfir - @btspurplesky - @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin - @selenophileforlife - @idkjustlovingbts @seonghwaexile

#bts #bts fic #yandere yoongi #yandere bts #soft yandere #mafia au #yandere seokjin #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #hard yandere #yandere #yandere kpop #mafia bts #lacrimosa #myg angst #dark!yoongi #min yoongi x y/n #bts x you #yoongi smut #haegeum #suga x you #suga x y/n #suga x reader #historical au #bts historical au #bts yandere au #fic:lacrimosa

[thedoctorsthings]

Power to the King teaser

summary: in the capital city of a small Nordic kingdom in the 10th century the king is slowly descending into madness. His wife recently died and he remarries. His sons Yoongi and Jungkook desperately try to keep his destructive tendencies in control while dealing with their own destructive romances.

featuring: crown prince Yoongi, second born prince Jungkook, royal guards Hoseok and Namjoon, druids Taehyung and Seokjin and farmer boy Jimin.

this series will be 7 parts divided into chapters. One part for each member. We'll follow them into their journey of meeting the love of their lives in a 10th century viking settlement. beneath you'll find the trope of each story

Jungkook: Prince x chambermaid (forbidden romance)

Taehyung: Druid x forest nymph (friends to lovers)

Jimin: farmer boy x princess (forbidden romance)

Namjoon: royal guard x barmaid (no idea what trope this is except for king being a destructive dick)

Hoseok: royals guard x druid's apprentice (promised to another)

Yoongi: Crown prince x noble girl (forced marriage/enemies to lovers)

Seokjin: Druid x king's wife (forbidden love, my personal favourite)

disclaimers: angst, smut but only implied never explicitly described, historical inaccuracies (i'm not an expert and i don't have time to do excessive research), lot's of dramatic typical period drama stuff, people getting wounded, war, yearning etc

coming somewhere in february probably cuz i got exams now

#bts #jimin #jungkook #namjoon #taehyung #yoongi #jin #hoseok #bts headcanons #bts fanfiction #historical au #bts historical au #bts fantasy au #fantasy au #bangtan #forbidden love #forced marriage #arranged marriage #enemies to lovers #ff #friends to lovers

[purpleyoonn]

Dance of Time 1

D A N C E   O F   T I M E

“A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.” -Bukowski

Summary: You were finally back in the hometown you left right after graduation, researching the mysterious manor that laid outside of the town limits. Your family was acting weird, and the owner of the manor seemed to know more about you than he should. Everything changed when you entered the manor, and you weren’t sure your dance with time was going to last very long.

Pairing: Vampire BTS x Human Reincarnated Reader

Status: Ongoing (random updates)

Genre: soulmate au, reincarnation, yandere themes, possessive boys, angst, fluff, poly au, vampire au, 

Warnings: smut, violence, tempers, mentions of death, murder, some explicit descriptions of violence, blood,

Chapter Warnings: stalking, small town legends, death, violence, mentions of stabbing and blood, slight yandere behavior, 

Masterlist // Chapter 2

Taglist: @psychosupernatural​ @carolinexkpop​ @strxwbloody​ @strawberry-moonpies​​ @dustyinkpages​​ @iamkookiesforyou​​ @anaspectoflife​​ @btsw1fe​​ @yoongisgirl69​ @toughbook​ @yoongibabs​

--------------------------------------------------

Insanity

Albert Einstein once said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Following the same routine and believing things would change, would move how you wanted them to.

Through studying history, you found this phenomenon to be accurate. So many events in history could have been prevented if they only looked back and did something different. Followed a different course. Chose a different path.

You were reminded of this every day, as you stared at your research, wondering why nothing was changing in your life. You were coming up on 27, the past six years of your life spent doing research and visiting historical sites. You were a historian, your passion for learning turned into a love for digging deeper into different events.

Your last project saw you crawling through underground tunnels in Edinburgh, writing about the day to day lives of the people living there when they were built. Your specialty, however, was the small-town ghost stories that seemed legend. You loved trying to find facts over rumors with regards to each town’s Boo Radley. And now, it seemed like it was time to discover the truth about your very own Boo Radley.

You had been missing home lately, and had been planning a visit to the small town you had grown up in. You left as soon as you graduated high school, wanting to get away from the people who had made your life mundane, all whilst making something of your life. You had decided, during your trip home, that you would do a story on the Weeping Manor, the large home that stood on the outskirts of your hometown.

It was, according to the older generation, originally a boarding house for miners that would travel to the area. Sometimes railroad workers would stay there, but it was mostly people looking to get rich quick on the gold nuggets found within the area.

Everyone had grown up with the stories, how the original owners had come home to find their lover dead at the bottom of the grand staircase, or how they killed her themselves when she could not choose between them. Your personal favorite, the one your grandmother told you, was that they were demons who had thrown their life away to be with their love, and how the angels had killed her in retaliation.

As a child, your romantic heart had loved the story of forbidden lovers and had requested the tale every night you stayed with your grandmother. She would always smile at you, a twinkle to her eye as she spoke. She would speak with such conviction that you never would have realized the story wasn’t true if you didn’t share tales with the other kids at school.

“All stories hold truth, it’s all about whether you are brave enough to find it or not.” Those were the words she always told you when you confronted her about her “lies”. They are also the words you live by, constantly searching for the truth in every story you hear.

You were currently on a plane home to Sacramento, the nearest airport to your hometown at least two hours north of the bustling state capitol. You were lucky enough to get the window seat, and no one else in your aisle. The empty wine glass sat on the table in front of you, your notebook in hand as you tried to write out everything you knew or could remember about the Weeping Manor. You also tried to plan what your next steps would be.

Primary sources would be on the list first, hoping your town’s library still held any firsthand accounts of when it was a boarding house. Then, you would need to find the current owners of the manor and hope they would allow you to tour the building or see any of their handed down documents that might not be already within the library’s records.

It was a long process to endure, but you loved it. You loved doing research and digging into records. It was like having history underneath your own fingertips. It was an honor for you.

“Miss, can I get you another glass?” You were startled out of your thoughts, turning to the curious stewardess as she glanced at your open notebook.

“Oh uh, no thank you.” You smiled politely, not liking when anyone tried to glance over your shoulder. You closed your notebook before she could question anymore and watched as she nodded and continued down the aisle.

You had about three hours left of your flight, and knew your uncle was probably already at the airport waiting for you. Your uncle was the only family left in the state, everyone moving on and away from the small mountain town.

“Better opportunities” they claimed, as if they never wanted to leave in the first place.

It’s not like you were any different though, but you appreciated your uncle and how he stayed to take care of your grandmother. You helped out whenever you could, sending money for food or heat, or even helping to buy your uncle a new car to better help your grandma get around in.

You uncle was a stout man in his late forties, your dad’s younger brother who loved to joke around and helped you play pranks on your family when you were younger. He was known as the ‘fun uncle’ and raised his two children the same. You loved when you got to spend time with them, but now, your cousins had their own families and lived in separate states. Your uncle visits them twice a year, spending a couple weeks with each child when he can.

He was the man you wish your father could have become, had he not passed when you were a baby. You grew up with your single mother, doing her damned best to take care of and raise you. She worked multiple jobs for as long as you could remember, and always did her best to attend every single one of your school’s award ceremonies.

Exhaustion

That was what the doctor ultimately decided for her cause of death. You had tried to wake her up, thankful she had finally gotten some rest; she wouldn’t wake up.

It took a long time for you to even think about your mom after she passed, instead pushing yourself into your work to make sure your family would be taken care of and would never have to worry about working again. Even now, your family tried to get you to rest, to take a vacation of sorts, but you just couldn’t.

Your aunts and cousins always asked when you would be having your own children, when they would meet your significant other. You just laughed, knowing it wasn’t going to happen. Your grandmother would always just tell you that your fate was written in the stars, mimicking something your mother told you.

You just never realized the old bat knew the truth. That she knew more than she was letting on.

-*-*-

“Get your ass over here and give me a damn hug!” You didn’t hold back a grin as you watched your frail grandma run down her front steps and practically jump into your arms, ignoring her own words.

You squeezed her as tight as you could without hurting her, pouring all your love for her into the small show of affection. She squeezed you back twice as hard, her hands rubbing up and down your back as she got on her tip toes and kissed you on the cheek. You could feel a slap to your back before she pulled away, a grin on her lips.

“You are getting too old. You need to give me some grandbabies.” She offhandedly states, not waiting for a reply as she walks slowly back into the house. You stare at her wide eyed, not expecting those words to come out of her mouth.

You and your uncle look at each other, a laugh bubbling from your throat as he rolls his eyes and mocks her. “I saw that, William!” Her yell sounds from the kitchen, shocking you both and making you move as quickly as you can to grab your bags and go into the house.

You make your way to the room you grew up in, the walls a light shade of purple with the same fairy lights your mother said would make the monsters stay away hung from the bed frame. She gave you those after your father passed away, claiming they would keep you safe.

“I told you that old bat didn’t change anything.” You uncle’s voice came from behind you, moving around you to put your suitcase on the bed for you to deal with later.

“You were always her favorite. The second I moved out she turned my room into a library.” He scoffed, a hidden laugh under his breath. “When your aunt moved out, she threw a party.” That had you laughing, imagining the look on your aunt’s face as she left.

“Yeah, well aunty Laura was always the one that everyone claimed would send grandma into an early grave.” Your aunt Laura was the baby and was about 7 years younger than your uncles, and about twice as rebellious. She now lives in LA and has her own record label, according to your cousin.

“That’s for sure…” He paused, looking around the room until he landed on the stuffed animals in the center of your pillows. “She’s worried about you, you know. She keeps talking about something coming, that you need to be told.” You narrow your eyebrows at his words, wondering what the heck your grandma was so worried about. 

“The doctors say she is in the beginning stages of dementia, but she swears up and down she is as sane as God. Don’t know how that is supposed to calm me down.” Your uncle rolls his eyes again, before making a swirling motion above his head, causing a large grin to grow on your lips.

“Anyways, I’ll let you get settled. Mama’s in there cooking up some deer meat Peter brought over.” You nodded, your uncle not wasting another second before leaving your room, closing the door behind him.

You turn back around, not wasting a second before sitting on the middle of your bed and pulling your laptop out of your carry on. Now that you were home, you could start writing your research notes. You grabbed your small, leather notebook out of your bag as well, pulling out your to do list as well as the list of things you remember or already know about the manor.

You had two pages already filled out, mainly just what legends you remember along with facts about the manor, like the address and any known affiliates associated with the upkeep of the “historical landmark”. The first name that popped up was a Jim Kelly, the assistant to the owner of the property, who is the main person everyone goes through with regards to the manor.

According to the emails you’ve been sending back and forth, the building and surrounding property is owned by the Kim family and has been under their possession since it was built. It is inherited by the first-born son in each generation, and his current employer is the most recent owner.

You had been trying for a week now to make an appointment to talk to Mr. Kim, but he seems to be almost unreachable to the public. He handles all business through Mr. Kelly, giving the man almost full control of the property.

Scratching that off your list for now, you decide you are going to go to the library first thing in the morning, see what information or records you could find there. Who knows, maybe Mrs. Shay is still the librarian and will let you into the back room where the closed off records are located.

You sit on your bed thinking and planning until your grandma comes knocking on your door, claiming she’ll have your behind if you don’t come and eat dinner right now. Which leads you to where you are now, sitting across from your grandma as you ask her about the legends again.

“Why do you want to hear that story again? You haven’t wanted to hear it in years.” She had her eyes narrowed, your lips turned down as she watches your face, looking for any tell you could give.

“Please grandma. I—” You close your eyes as you are interrupted, your grandmother apparently not done with her scolding.

“Don’t give me that. You haven’t been having any dreams, have you? Don’t you lie to me Y/n.” Your brows knitted in confusion, wondering what she meant by having dreams.

Your grandma froze, your uncle bringing his head to rest in the palms of his hands, a small groan leaving his lips. A slap from your grandma has him straightening, moving to grab your plates and bring them into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember much about that house. Just that it still exists and that the building is getting slowly renovated.” With that, you watch your grandma stalk back to her room down the hallway, slamming her door as she closes it.

“Did I ask something wrong?” You ask yourself, not knowing what made your grandma so upset that she walked away and slammed her door. She’s never done that, not even when your aunt Laura lived at home. Moving to get up, you are stopped by a hand on your shoulder, your uncle looking at you with a glint of worry and…something else in his eye.

“Sit.” You nod, sitting back down as he moves to sit in the seat your grandma was previously occupying.

“Listen, I don’t know what is truth and what is fiction.” Your uncle started, looking even more worn down than when his youngest moved out of the home.

“Stories about Weepin’ have been goin’ around longer than even mama’s been around. The most common legend is the one mama’ told us and you guys when we were all younger.” You nod, remembering the time you and your cousins all sat around grandma as she sat in her chair and captured our attention with the stories.

“Apparently, seven men moved down here during the miner movement, and fell in love with one of the town’s few single women. A nurse who worked in the tents helping injuries that came from the mines. It was love at first sight, some even called them soulmates. However, not everyone minded. A lot of the men were jealous and the few other women were envious of her for nabbing the seven men.” You don’t remember this from grandma’s story and wonder where he heard this part.

“A couple months into the relationship, the men struck gold, literally, even helping to build most of the older buildings in town. They built Weepin’ Manor with her in mind, tons of rooms and even a library. During this time, unfortunately, a lot of bodies were turning up, some saying drained of blood, others saying their bodies were torn apart. No one really knows. But the blame was put on the seven men.”

“People claimed they were working with the devil, Demons come to take advantage of the sin of gold. Tales of screams heard from inside the manor. Well, one day, someone claimed they saw one of the men feeding from a traveler in the woods behind the mine’s entrance. The town grew outraged,” Your eyes were wide as you listened to the story your uncle was telling. He seemed serious as he spoke, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you.

“When the men left town for the day, some of the townsmen stormed the manor, not thinking they would have left their woman behind. When they returned, she was found dead, her throat slit and her stomach stabbed through into the mattress. The found her with the knife still lodged in her abdomen.” You moved your hand to cover your mouth in shock, hearing this version for the first time. You couldn’t believe the whole town would turn against this family like that. That they could kill one of their own so violently just for being there.

It made you unbelievably angry.

“The seven men were so distraught, they are said to have burnt the entire town to the ground, the only buildings left somewhat unscathed were the library and the old apothecary, buildings which their lover helped build. After the town was burnt, the men are said to have killed themselves, unable to take the grief of their loss.”  You take notes in your mind, trying everything you could to remember the entirety of the story, swearing to yourself you would write it down as soon as you got to your notebook.

“It was dubbed Weepin’ manor by the locals around 1880, some…. Forty years after the town was rebuilt. Folks said they heard people crying in there, even claimed they saw the spirits of the men. But nothing was ever proven.” Your uncle stopped, looking at you with something you didn’t recognize… guilt maybe? It was completely unlike him, so out of character you were becoming increasingly worried.

Before you could ask if he was alright, your uncle was shooting up and out of his seat, exclaiming that he was beat and he was going to bed. He came over and kissed your forehead, before walking down the same hallway your grandmother’s room is on.

Your head was hurting, everything happening so quickly you were now in the dining room alone, stuck with your thoughts. You had never heard that version of the legends before, and with the way your uncle was talking, it seemed as if he knew the truth. Like he actually believed in what he was telling you.

Getting up from your seat, you slowly made your way to your room, despite the urgency you felt, and opened your notebook again to write down everything your uncle told you. It took you over an hour, making sure you wrote down every single detail, no matter how important it seemed. It took over 12 pages in your notebook, and a couple things underlined to look for in the records tomorrow.

You spent the entire night going over the story, trying to pick out anything that seemed off, or didn’t match the research you had already done prior to coming home. Something about the story was pulling at your insides, like it wasn’t the entire story. You could feel your heart clawing at your chest, the pain making you pause in your thoughts.

It was like something was stabbing you, the pain making its way into your back and having you bite your tongue to prevent crying out and possibly waking your family.

You were frantic in trying to close the curtains, praying to the gods that they would leave your family alone. You had done everything you could, helped so many of your neighbors. You tried to move forward to the staircase, but the corner of the door caught the bottom of your dress, making you pause to remove the cloth.

“Come now, Ellie. You will be safe if you come with us.” You heard the mayor, Michael, say through the front door. Your movements became even more frantic, choosing to rip the cloth instead of trying to fight the door.

You raced up the steps and into the guest bedroom, shutting the door behind you right as you heard the front door being broken down. Yelling tore through the bottom floor, glasses being smashed, a particular vase you loved, as it was a gift from…being thrown to the ground, causing a sob to leave your lips.

“Ellie darling. They can’t mind control you any longer.” The footsteps moved up the stairs as you hid under the bed, hand over your mouth to she couldn’t hear you cry. A whimper tore through your lips as the door was thrown open, a laugh sounding throughout the room.

The pain in your chest was gone, your heart beating fast as you tried to breathe through the onslaught of tears. You were overcome with emotions: fear, pain, agony, and love. Like they were your own emotions, but you had no reason to feel this way. The… vision you had was just that, a vision. You were probably so sleep deprived that you had a hallucination of some sort.

The only thing that was weird was that it was like you were there, experiencing everything as if it was going on now. You could still hear the echoes of the things smashing from below you. Could hear the laughter of that man in your ears as the fear filled your lungs. Ellie. You wonder if it was short for something, maybe Elizabeth?

Another note made in your notebook, writing down the description of your hallucination. Another 5 pages written down. You felt that your hallucination was somehow connected to the manor, even if it didn’t make any sense.

Deciding it was a good time to sleep, you put your notebook down. You didn’t want another lifelike hallucination, and if sleeping kept them away, you would sleep. You took your suitcase and bag off your bed, placing them at the edge, and climbed under your covers, before turning your bedside lamp off and trying to sleep.

-*-*-

“She’s finally back.” The man spoke, his body stood in the trees behind the small house. His view was of your sleeping body, rested against your pillows and the stuffed animal he sent your mother when you were little.

A smile was rested on his lips as he watched you sleep; his protective instincts finally being soothed after having you in his sights after so long.

“I was surprised when Jimmy told us she had messaged him, asking about the manor. I wonder if the dreams have started back up again?” The first man turned his head, smirking at the younger who approached from behind, intertwining their hands together.

“They don’t seem to be dreams this time around. She thinks she is hallucinating.” A click to his tongue sounds out as you shift in your sleep, clutching at the teddy bear making his undead heart warm.

“Joon says he is going to have Jimmy email her tomorrow about a meeting. He doesn’t want to waste any time in having her again. That old bat already kept her from us once, he doesn’t want it to happen again.” The older man quirks his head, listening to the bitter tone his younger mate held. The contempt for the old women palpable as he looks at his mate.

“We won’t have to worry about her, or him this time. They know what will happen if she is kept from us again.” Both men’s eyes flash red, their reflection against your window showing the veins creeping up their eyes at the remembrance of you leaving town the first time.

“She won’t be able to hide from us again.” Turning around and back into the tree line, the younger steals once last glance at your sleeping form before letting himself be dragged into the trees, food being the only thing on his mind once again as he let the feeling of the hunt take over once more.

Next Chapter

#bts #bts au #bts vampire #bts vampire au #bts slight yandere #historian mc #reincarnated mc #bts reincarnation #bts historical au #bts polyamory #bts poly #bts poly!au #bts poly au #bts poly! #bts x reader #poly!bts x reader #vampiretan sonyeondan #dance of time #purpleyoonn

[aphroditelovesu]

kinktober 2023 masterlist || disclaimer: will obviously contain nsfw content. be aware of this.

🎃˚˖੭ I love when you're submissive, love it when I break skin, you feel pain without flinchin', so say it...🎃˚˖੭

❝day one: vampire/bloody sex with Klaus Mikaelson❞

❝day two: praise kink with Apollo❞

❝day three: breeding kink with Alexander the Great❞

❝day four: daddy kink with Elijah Mikaelson❞

❝day five: degradation with Ares❞

❝day six: bondage with Aphrodite❞

❝day seven: somnophilia with Hypnos❞

❝day eight: threesome with Apollo and Eros❞

❝day nine: overstimulation with Damon Salvatore❞

❝day ten: voyeurism with Taehyung❞

❝day eleven: shadow play with Azriel❞

❝day twelve: exhibitionism with Dionysus❞

❝day thirteen: rough sex with Tom Riddle❞

❝day fourteen: romantic sex/making love with Eros❞

❝day fifteen: first time with Jungkook❞

❝day sixteen: wax play with Daenerys Targaryen❞

❝day seventeen: roleplay with Achilles❞

❝day eighteen: public sex with Hades❞

❝day nineteen: thigh riding with Sirius Black❞

❝day twenty: lactation kink with Robb Stark❞

❝day twenty-one: edging with Ares❞

❝day twenty-two: threesome with Achilles and Patroclus❞

❝day twenty-three: wing play with Lucifer Morningstar❞

❝day twenty-four: temperature play with Daenerys Targaryen❞

❝day twenty-five: dacryphilia with Jin❞

❝day twenty-six: wedding night with Apollo❞

❝day twenty-seven: size kink with Achilles❞

❝day twenty-eight: shower sex with Poseidon❞

❝day twenty-nine: cockwarming with Anakin Skywalker❞

❝day thirty: spanking with Eros❞

❝day thirty-one: non-con/dub-con elements with Apollo❞

🎃˚˖੭ Give me tough love, leave me with nothin' when I come down, my kinda love; push me and choke me till I pass out... 🎃˚˖੭

⤷ cited song: One Of The Girls - The Weeknd, Lily-Rose Depp and Jennie.❝

❝ 🎃 — 𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒍: if you want to be tagged for future updates, comment or send a DM.

⤷ tagging: @krismikaelson, @compulsiivedreamer, @legendarydefendorkitty

#masterlist #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #smut #kinktober2023 #greek mythology #the originals #history #the vampire diaries #BTS #bangtan boys #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #yandere au #yandere #historical characters #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #got #harry potter #lucifer #star wars

[mirahuyooo]

Lover’s Eye | ksj

Lover's Eye

— They say the eyes are the windows to one's soul. His just also happen to open the door to your heart.

Word Count: 5,448 Pairing: Kim Seokjin × Reader Contents: ANGST, roMANCE, FLUFF, dRAMA, PINING, star-crossed lovers 😭, oh the woes of being a woman in a historical period, misunderstandings being cleared uwu, KIM SEOKJINNN, Historical-ish AU (but with fictional places bc i didnt want to think of being historically accurate lol)

[masterlist] | check out the [moodboard]!

A/N: IT’S LATE but happy birthday jinnie 😭💞💖💗 I wanted to write something for him, but I didn’t want to write about him leaving for the military bc it’s a bit on the nose, so here you guys go instead! it’s an old fic idea that i recently revamped lol 

Fun fact! The concept is based on the Georgian tradition of having an accessory (necklace, brooch, bracelet, etc.) that depicts an image of the eyes or an eye of a secret lover, spouse, or other loved ones. This is often common for those in secret affairs, protecting their lover's identity but at the same time be able to express their love (and I think that's pretty uwu if ur star-crossed lovers ✋😭💞)  

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! 💗💗💗

Your paradise is an old ruin on the outskirts of the city—a once great fortress now left to rot a hundred years after its last great feat—but in that crumbling mess of stone and moss are remnants of beautiful memories you constantly rekindle for some semblance of a warmth long gone. The pleasant weather emanates most of the feeling—warm sunlight peeking through the overgrown trees and cool breeze caressing stray hairs away from your face.

It’s a spot under one of the trees where you usually tuck yourself into and leave the rest of the world behind for your own peace of mind. It offers the perfect amount of light and shade, and the wind doesn’t become too distracting as you dawdle about. 

This place, after all, is lawless, and you do as you please. At times, you’d bring a book and a pen with you, idly writing your thoughts and doodling in the margins as you read. Other days you’d stroll through the abandoned halls and let yourself be lost in imagining what took place centuries past. Most times, however, you’d sit under your favorite tree, take out a pencil or maybe that small, worn metal box of your paints, and bring something to life onto your paper—like now.

Accompanied by nothing but the distant sounds of small land critters reaching your ears, your hands move the pencil about the paper at a leisurely pace without much thought. Time passes easily this way, you taking your time to draw out figures—a person, apparently. 

Oh.

Your hands come to a stop as you finally realize what—who—you’ve drawn instinctively. A man stares back at you with a tousle of dark, fluffy hair atop his head, brushing gently over his brows. His plump lips were drawn to a small smile, and his eyes—oh, his eyes—were dark in color but the expression in them remains soft and kind, piercing right through you—through your heart. 

He looks beautiful—but you don’t think you could ever do the real thing justice. 

At your own making, Kim Seokjin stares back at you—nothing but charcoal on paper; a mere likeness you cannot feel the warmth of, and an endearing gaze you can only recall in your memories.

You find yourself fishing for something beneath your lace blouse—a familiar small, gold locket whose four corners your fingers know very well to hold. Opening it reveals an eye that, unlike the sketch you’ve drawn, is a bit more lifelike with its colors. The dark chocolate iris has light reflecting off of it like starlight, making it stand out amidst the rest of the miniature canvas. 

Flitting between the sketch and the locket only leaves you more despondent in a feat of having his image engraved in your head lest you ever have the misfortune of forgetting it. 

You couldn’t help but ponder to yourself, reminiscing the seven springs since you’ve last seen the man. 

“Do you like it?”

Voice falling short of a whisper, struggling to find it in you to look at his face so you resort to asking for a verbal reaction. You watch as he endearingly compares the two lockets—one with his eye’s dark chocolate hue and the other with the (e/c) of yours. It had been fairly difficult to paint on such small canvases, but you managed to accomplish the feat.

“Absolutely, my love,” he croons, pressing a kiss atop your forehead before he clasps his locket around his neck. Without any hesitation, he does the same for you. Not long after, his fingers secure a gentle grip on your chin and guide your head upwards. For the first time since you two snuck off to meet tonight, your eyes meeting his, two almost-crescents twinkling as he gives you a smile—tender and loving with the hint of bittersweet sadness. “You’ve captured my handsomeness in the eye alone,” he jests despite himself, pride in his tone as he pulls you into an embrace. “How fortunate I have such a talented woman to immortalize me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. “But of course,” you hum against his shirt, as you hug him just a little bit tighter. “You’re my only muse.”

The shake in your dwindling voice doesn’t elude your lover, making him pull away and, this time, cupping your cheeks to give them a pinch. “Don’t frown now,” he tuts, his thumbs playfully drawing a smile onto your lips. “You swore you wouldn’t.”

Seokjin’s eyes ruin his light-hearted facade—just as crestfallen as yours. For his sake, however, you do your best to oblige a smile, only to have them force tears from your eyes. A shaky sigh leaves his lips as your tears start flowing one after the other, and so he pulls you into his arms again, letting his shirt stain with your tears. 

You take every second to engrave the feeling of his arms—his warmth—around you. “Come back to me,” your words are muffled by his shoulder but he hears it all the same.

“Of course,” he affirms, giving you a squeeze as he buries his nose into your hair. “I very much intend to.” 

Kim Seokjin was an orphaned boy, found unconscious by the river outside the town and gladly taken in by the local baker and his wife who have been childless well into their years. He grew to be a handsome man, fawned over by even the ladies in your circle who often bemoaned about how unfortunate it was that he didn’t have anything to his name outside the bakery he’s set to inherit from his adoptive father. 

You, however, accomplished what they couldn’t. 

See, Kim Seokjin—one of the most revered bachelors in town—is your little secret. The man you sneak around with. The man you exchange knowing glances with. The man you’ve shared your heart with. 

It was most unfortunate that the two of you were born into different classes. You are the third of four daughters in a particularly well-off family who owned and managed a relatively large farmland. Though your family ranks low amongst polite society, your mother, nearly driven mad into perfectionism, strictly wanted all of her daughters to marry well. This became the very reason why you’ve kept the fact that you and baker Kim’s son are lovers.

It was most fortunate, however, that your two elder sisters successfully secured themselves husbands for their future and the family, especially when your late father succumbed to his illness during one particularly harsh winter. Occupied with the adjustments of passing the family business to your eldest sister and her husband, your mother’s pressure with suitors eventually loosened (just a little) when it came to you and your youngest sister, who shared your distaste with the forced matches. This made it all the more easier to see Seokjin, who often came around under the excuse of his father’s bakery that got their supply of dry ingredients from your family’s company.

It was him who found the ruins—him who brought you there one night and the two of you spent the night watching the stars. 

It was him who revived your love for art—him who gifted you a makeshift palette of paints and urged you to paint when you were told to forget about your passion.

It was him who left you—him who decided to seize the opportunity to be an apprentice to the royal chef and asked you to make something for him to remember you by (hence, the lockets).

The two of you swore you'd stand the test of time, distance, and everything else the universe will throw your way. Of course, such things were always easier said than done. Misfortune found its way to the path and now… well, now you’re quite unsure of what it holds for you—or him.

Here you are, seven years have passed—no Kim Seokjin aside from the ones you've put on paper and canvas. 

Does he still look the same after all these years? 

Did he keep his locket close to his heart, too?

Did he ever stare into the likeness of your eye and reminisce?

There are times resentment gets the better of you—questions of his love, of why he hasn't gone back to look for you, of if he ever even loved you any more—and time, itself, has made you weary, spent your tears, and tired your heart. It's gotten easier to bury memories of him, but times like this come where it rises from the depths in which you've left it. You walk the line of acceptance and delusion, indulging in your greatest "what if" while knowing the truth of your folly.

A sigh escapes your lips as you start to feel the tears stinging your eyes. You keep them at bay as you try to get yourself together. "That's enough for the day," you tell yourself, gathering your materials and slipping them into your satchel. 

Another day ends with you leaving the ruins—your paradise—behind, along with all of the memories of your first love. 

"A ball?"

Before you, your youngest sister, Emma, nods enthusiastically as your eldest sister, Jane, offers you a kind smile. "We thought it'd be lovely for you to join," she says, squeezing your hand, pleading. "Anne will be here by then, too, and we'll be complete."

Your heart aches for your sisters, but while you love them very much…

“You know my sentiments about polite society,” you couldn’t help but sigh, sarcasm dripping in “polite” as you know well of the vipers that hide beneath their pristine facades. 

See, the truth of you and your relationship with Seokjin was discovered six or so years ago by your mother. The resulting conflict led to your disownment and the death of your reputation in the eyes of the social circle, who stared at you with scrutiny, jealousy, and disdain wherever you went.

Emma and Jane looked at you in pity—something you absolutely distaste, but you know it would never leave their eyes even if you told them to. Still, however, your eldest sister brings out a piece of paper—an invitation. “It’ll be fine,” she assures you, “It’s a masquerade ball.”

“No one would know,” Emma eagerly supplies, wielding puppy dog eyes and a pout against you. 

You look at the two of your sisters—who have missed you since all these years, who have given you support in secret, who have urged you to return to the family since your late mother’s passing two years ago. You only manage to meet them a day every other week, your stubborn drive to make something of yourself occupying most of your days with your jobs. 

The cursive words on the card look back at you, almost expectantly. Wearing a mask sounds promising, but the luxury of it all—finding a gown to wear, attending the extravagant party, following the strict etiquette—is all too much now for the simpler life you’ve lived in the past years. They remind you of a suffocating, restricting part of your life.  

On the other hand, however, your heart strings are tugged for your sisters.

With a sigh, you set the invitation down and turn back to your sisters who anticipate your response. “How am I even supposed to afford a decent dress for myself?” you say, brow raised, but the signs of defeat bring grins onto their lips. 

“We’ll gladly take care of that, dear,” Jane assures you as Emma excitedly giggles, leaving her seat to hug you.

Their warmth coaxes a smile from your lips. Anything for them. 

“Anything for them, you say?” you grumble to yourself with a muffled groan as you stand amongst a crowd all chattering amongst themselves, while you stand there all by your lonesome. 

The night of the much awaited ball, you stayed at the estate for the first time in years. The maids delivered to you a beautiful gown of gentle green with delicate white lace trims. Along with it was a white mask with vines and flowers sculpted around it. It took a while for you to get ready, but by the end of it, your hair was beautifully pinned up with a few pearls and faux white flowers.  

The four of you—your second elder sister having arrived with her husband a few days before—meet at the living room, all happy smiles at the notion of being together again. Of course, having their husbands in tow, all of you had to split between two carriages on the way to Fairford Manor. 

Which brings you here now.

Alone, because as all of your sisters have gotten married (yes, even your youngest sister has now also found herself a man), that means as the song for the waltz played, all couples go to the center and dance together. 

“They say the chandelier was a gift from Queen Irene herself. Isn’t that fascinating, my lady?”

You hold back a grimace. “Quite so,” you politely say in feign interest, so as to not offend the man next to you. You don’t know who the old man is, but while he's been nice to have struck a conversation with you, if you planned to spend your evening with history lessons, you’d go to a library.

“Have you eve—”

“Good evening.”

A tall stranger approaches you both, clad in a black suit embroidered with silver thread and a black mask covering his full face. Your brows raise as the man offers you his hand. “If I may,” he courtesies, “I’d like to ask the lady for a dance?” 

Looking around, it seems that the second dance has indeed begun. A part of you is relieved at the sweet release from boredom, but then again, you don’t know this man either. Something does, however, urge you to take his hand before you can even think about it. 

For a moment, his hand in yours leaves you befuddled. Warm they were, and… No. Nonsense.

“I’d be delighted to,” you force a smile, now that you’ve doomed yourself to accept the invitation.

The two of you join the circle of people who came to dance to the next song. While your hand remains in his, you gingerly—awkwardly—place your other hand on the man’s shoulder. His other hand found purchase at the small of your back, as you both began to follow the tune and waltz. You thank your body for remembering the arduous years of having to study dances—you’ve yet to step on your partner’s feet!

You find yourself looking up to meet eyes with the stranger. The close distance has allowed you a better look into his eyes, and they knock the air out of you. Dark irises you’ve seen so many times before stare back at you with a knowing familiarity.

Is it—can it really be him?

“A frown doesn’t suit you, my lady,” he says, and his voice alone—soft and light-hearted as always—dooms your suspicions. With the mask obscuring his face, you find it hard to decipher his emotions. Has time rid you of knowing what his eyes speak after so long?

Your heart races and aches in a flurry of emotions, but for his sake and yours, you resist the urge to storm out of the ballroom. You wonder if he can sense your panic—if he could see your eyes glassy with unshed tears. “So, you’ve come back,” you dully say, tearing your eyes from him to spare yourself any more pain.  

“A bit later than intended, I know,” he tells you as he guides you through the dance. 

Too late, your pain screams. Too late. Too late—

Your teeth bite down at your lip, and you sentence yourself to silence until the last note of the song. Without another word, you hastily courtesy and leave him on the dancefloor, glaring at the marbled floors all the way out of the manor. Hushed whispers follow you, but they are nothing you haven’t privy your heart to. In fact, you’ve expected the gossiping—but him? Kim Seokjin, your first love, right before you when you’ve spent seven years without him? 

He’s a blow to your heart you hadn’t anticipated—a bomb amongst mere arrows. 

A sob finally escapes your lips as you reach the stairs that lead to a pathway to the gates, forcing you to shed your mask when they stick to your skin and get in the way of your tears. The cold night air nips your skin, but you’ve been shaking for far longer than the moment you stepped outside. 

Your melancholy has you nearly stagger off the stairs, but a hand grabs a secure hold of your elbow before you could fall. You pathetically look up to your supposed savior—Kim Seokjin, sans the black mask. How fortunate.

“(Y/N)—”

“Don’t,” you grit through your teeth. 

It’s a surreal sensation—bittersweet, really—to finally see the real thing when you’ve spent years longing for your drawings and paintings to become it. Yet, here your old flame was now—alive in a way your art could never atone—and all the yearning turned into a forest fire across your whole being. 

Soft thumbs wipe away your tears, a feeling that makes you instantly flutter your eyes closed. “It’s unfair,” you find yourself whimpering your thoughts aloud. “Why does it feel like I’m the only one suffering?”

Years of scrutiny and hopelessness all reap the seeds of misery they sowed in you, all of them coming alive to ensnare you and drag you to the depth now that the sole reason for it all presents himself to you—the man you loved, the man you left your family for, the man you stayed in this damned city for even as it rots you from the inside out.

“What makes you say that?”

Seokjin’s words coax you to open your eyes. Through blurred tears, you come to realize he’s closer now, his eyes swimming with tears like yours—the sight of which softens your furrowed brows. Still, it’s not enough to satiate the years of contempt that brewed within you. “Time seems to have been kinder to you, is all,” you bitterly say, taking in his suit ensemble that you could immediately tell was expensive. 

Your words hurt Seokjin, you know it well, but in a childish feat, you hope it does. “I’ve worked hard for it,” he argues, a frown tugging his lips down. “You know nothing of what I’ve been through.”

“So do you,” you say, reaching to remove his hands from your face and walking down what steps remain on the stairs.

You have no doubts of his accomplishments. He had always been able to do what he set his mind to and do so flawlessly. Perhaps, it is this that also prods at the green-eyed monster within you, who envies to see that while you may have both suffered, he’s more triumphant in his feats than you were.

Ever the better person out of the two of you, Seokjin tries to bring you to reason. He follows you out to the manor grounds. “Then make me understand,” he pleads, managing to take your hands into his and effectively stop you in your tracks yet again. “Don’t run away from this—from me.”

Seokjin’s eyes never leave yours and you find it hard for yourself to look away now. Damn it all. His eyes have always done away with you and your stubborn resolve. 

“Mother found out,” you find yourself telling him, lips quivering yet again.

Through the next months after Seokjin’s apprenticeship began at the capital, you would get your news of him through his mother, who always had that knowing glint in her eyes about the two of you before he had left. Both your worries and excitement could fill an ocean, and that made the two of you much closer as you both waited for every letter from Seokjin. 

It was a year or so in, however, your mother discovered his letters to you. You remember the sheer dread that washed over you when you saw her at your vanity table, reading the letters Seokjin directly addressed to you.

"Mother…"

You stood frozen by the door, part of your nightgown bunched in your hands as you watched your mother grip the letter tightly with only one thing in her eyes—fury. The moment she looked up and met your eyes through the mirror, chills ran down your spine. "What did I lack for you to have done this treachery to me, (Y/N)?" she said, voice eerily steady and sharp that it makes you flinch.

Willing yourself to step forward, you try to gently reason with her. "Mother, love mustn't have boundaries," you say, “Seokjin is—”

"Love is an illusion, (Y/N)," your mother spat, standing from the chair with such force that it toppled over. “These,” she waves a letter to your face, “These are nothing but lies.”

"It's not—"

"This boy may have you fooled, but not me," your mother claims, tearing the letter in her hands before your eyes, the sight of which sets you a blaze in panic.

"No!" you cry out and run to her, grasping her hands to try and save the other letters from the same fate. "Stop it, please! Stop!"

Your mother looks at you in outrage as you cry over the torn pages of your lover’s words, clutching the letters you managed to get a hold of close to your heart. "You'd waste yourself for that baker's boy?!" she bellowed, "What else can he give you aside from his looks, hm? Nothing!"

"I don't give a damn about what he can't give!" you scream back, anger now flowing through your veins. "I love him and he loves me—unconditionally. I'm not throwing what we have away simply because he doesn't fit you greedy ide—"

A slap damns you to silence. 

"How dare you?" your mother sneers, seething. "How will you live then, hm? In the slums with nothing to eat?"

Her underestimation of commoners infuriates you. "The Kims get by just fine mother," you hiss, standing to stare her down with a glare. "Your obsession with luxury blinds you to the beauty in their simple lives."

Your mother glares back, crossing her arms. "Then I'll simply have you see things my way," she declares with such sureness that it unsettles you.

"What do you mean?"

"No daughter of mine marries a commoner," she says the words with such disgust that it stabs your heart with pain. "You'll marry Lord Jung's son, and then you'll see just how much better life is!"

Jung Hoseok, you remember him. A kind, bright boy you played with as a child—son to one of your late father’s greatest investors. He’s heir to his father’s brewery business. You can see why, in your mother’s eyes, he’s a perfect candidate for marriage. 

Even so, you can't stomach the thought of betraying Seokjin—let alone attempting to unlove him. 

"Then, I'll be no daughter of yours."

Your mother's visibly taken aback, her furious eyes that had seemed so sure before falter upon hearing your words. "What?"

Tears sting your eyes as you shake but you stand your ground. "If it disgusts you to have a daughter who loves a commoner, then I'll do you a favor, Lady (L/N)," you tell her, fishing for a coat in your closet, as well as the satchel that kept your locket and the makeshift palette Seokjin gifted you among other things. 

"You would leave the family for that boy?"

You could no longer bear the noose this life has around your neck. "A single inch of Kim Seokjin has made me feel more love, seen, and supported than you ever could," you claim, as you don on your coat. Another glare and you finally tell your mother the truth that you and your sisters have all been thinking of for years. "Your expectations and dreams have doomed us all to terrible, unhappy ends."

In many ways, your mother had killed all of you.

Jane, the eldest, while her husband was a good man, lives in his shadow. You like to think she was a genius, if she hadn’t been shackled to be a woman like all of you were. She longed to take care of the family estate and business herself, but that power’s been passed to her husband.

Anne—sweet Anne—who loved to read about plants, was married off to a count from a neighbouring kingdom. Your mother didn’t care about the rumors of his infamous infidelity—-didn’t care that your sister was doomed to be all alone, so far from home.

And, young Emma, whose imagination knows no bounds, wanted to write stories, but mother burned her manuscripts when she found out about her intentions to publish them.

"Everything I do, I do for all of you," your mother growled.

"You do it for yourself," your words smack her nearly as hard as she did. "You'd rather have our hearts and souls die to fit your perfect picture, than be happy."

"Happiness isn't everything—"

"I'd rather die than live without happiness."

This shocks her enough into silence that it gives you time to storm out of the room—of the estate. 

Seokjin’s eyes were wide as you told him of what had transpired that night. He seems as if he had something to say, but he withholds his words until you finish your side of the story.

The two of you walk in the night, side by side with a distance drawn by an invisible line between you both. “I came to the bakery the moment I left,” you tell him, “but even then, my misery doesn’t end.” 

That night, certain of your disownment, you made a run for the Kims' bakery. Imagine your surprise when you found the establishment abandoned. No more bread of all shapes, forms, and flavors displayed. No more gentle conversation between Mr and Mrs Kim. No more kind smiles to welcome you into the abode. 

Everything was gone. 

“I don’t know what happened,” you say, shivering yet again—this time from the cold. Seokjin wordlessly sheds his black overcoat, the silver threads embroidered into it glinting in the moonlight as he did. For a moment, you’re silent, words unable to escape you as he drapes his coat over your shoulders.

This makes it all the more difficult to meet his eyes, you forcing yourself to look at the forest ahead. “I…” you wet your lips as you ease your breathing. “I barely had any money with me, but one of our old maids thankfully took me in.”

Helen remains to be someone dear to your heart. “It was also her who helped me find something to make a living with,” you say, a soft smile on your face at the memory of going through town with Helen to look for jobs. In the end, she was able to help you become an assistant seamstress to a kind over to a dress shop. 

After months of working, you finally had enough to look for him where you last knew he was. “The first of my plans was to earn enough money to go to the capital,” you murmur, your smile fading at the memory of what took place there when you arrived. “Alas,” you bitterly laugh, “you weren’t there anymore.”

It took you days to even manage to ask a member of the royal kitchen staff about what happened to Seokjin, and as it turns out, he quit from his post some time after you were disowned. Next to you, Seokjin grimaces, sighing as he shakes his head. “I,” he stammers, “I had already been under a lot of pressure, and…”

It seemed to be his turn reminiscing. “My parents came to the capital all of a sudden,” he began, “they said Lady (L/N) told them to get out of the city at your request—said that you were getting married to another and you didn’t want anything that reminded you of me.”

Your heart dropped at the news. When did your mother orchestrate such a scheme?

You recall that before that night, the last you had seen of Mr and Mrs Kim had been a week or so. Had your mother known about you and Seokjin for much longer before you discovered her in your room? 

Tears return to your eyes, and you find yourself clutching Seokjin’s coat tightly in your hands. A newfound hatred for your mother burns in you, but a part of you still found fault in Seokjin’s predicament. “Seven years,” your words tremble. “I’ve waited seven years for you to come back—stayed a commoner here even as they slander me behind my back because I didn’t want you to not find me. Why didn’t you come for me sooner?” 

Until the end, you were your mother's disappointment. Even your youngest sister, who had no plans of getting married, was now with child, having gotten married to the heir to a publishing company last summer. You, on the other hand, denied any man who came to ask for your hand—who all told you how fortunate you were that they’re even asking a desolate spinster like you. 

You could feel Seokjin’s gaze from beside you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to look into them and see what they held. A sigh resounds from him, so filled with regret and anguish. “I lost my way for a while,” he confesses, “when I heard your supposed husband was an heir, I was angry. I poured my heart and my time into making something of myself—I got back to the royal kitchen, I got employed under a ducal family, and then I delved into business.”

He looks up at the moon, like it’d give him more strength for his confessions. “I planned to come back here and show you all of that, I…” he shakes, “I wanted you to regret leaving me.”

You find it hard to imagine Kim Seokjin, who was always so mature and certain of himself, be so unsure and lost, and yet the emotions his words carry are proof of it. A part of you feels betrayed that he thought you would believe such a thing, but you know well how emotions can cloud a person’s reason.

The two of you came to a stop when he stood before you, seizing your hands yet again since the manor’s staircase. A hand came to tilt your chin towards him. “When I finally came here,” Seokjin earnestly looked at you, “I can’t begin to imagine the relief and joy I felt to find out you never got married at all, but I… I also know what a fool I’ve been.”

A glint of that well-known determination is in his eyes as he fishes for something pinned beneath his waistcoat. “When I saw you at the ball, I knew I had to at least try if I had even a small chance to be with you again.”

In his hands was his locket, one that revealed your eye in the midst of it. At that moment, your eyes yet again shine with tears—this time, happier than the previous ones. Your heart swells, not enough to quell your pain, but still enough to comfort your broken heart—to embrace it and say “I’m here, I’ll never leave again.”

Before you is a familiar view, you now realize it as you look around what surrounded you both. Walking down the memories of the past lead you to the place where you both shared most of it—the ruins. 

A small smile makes it to your lips. “Do you remember the last time we were here?” you ask him, and watch as he, too, came to recognize where you two were. The smile that befalls him is precious, as he nods. 

You find yourself squeezing his hand in yours, taking a step forward to lessen the gap between you both. You stare into his eyes—see how softly and kindly they gaze at you. “You are my only muse,” you say, echoing the words you told him seven springs ago as your fingers reach for the locket you kept tucked between your dress and corset. “The one who gave me strength amidst my misery.”

Seokjin encloses his right hand with yours, both of them containing your respective lockets, as he rests his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering close. “You’re my muse, too,” he swore under his breath as he leaned in and captured your lips in a tender kiss. 

You smile, the cracks in your heart slowly but surely being melded back together from his warmth.

Here you are, seven years have passed—Kim Seokjin very much alive and within arm’s reach, proving what you thought during that dreadful night to be true. You can never unlove him.

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 : @mwitsmejk​ @dreamamubarak​ @bloodline1632​

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