Genre/Themes; Vampire!AU, yandere!AU, horror, themes of the supernatural and mythology, historical topics, vampiric powers, religious themes, violence, romance
Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, toxic behavior including stalking, torture, and manipulation, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
The world revolves around powerful, deadly creatures, their every whim catered to– vampires. Humans with rare blood types are kept in large Sanctuaries around the world, where they can be hand-picked by vampires and their covens to become live-in blood banks. Y/N, who had been trapped in a Sanctuary for ten years thanks to her ultra-rare blood type, is acutely aware of just how vicious vampires are. Though she wishes for freedom she once had when she was fifteen, if it came at the cost of being at the mercy of terrifying beings, she would remain within the halls of the Sanctuary forever.
Covens as large as seven individual vampires are exceedingly hard to come by, especially an all-male coven. Brought together by their skewed views of reality, twisted minds, strong powers and connections, and blood-soaked pasts, seven vampires move to a new city in search of their perfect human to feed from. Though the town of Newport, Rhode Island, is sleepy, it holds a secret past, one that’s perfect to set the stage for a complicated, dark future. With a particular taste for the rarest types of blood, the coven discovers an acolyte with irresistible pull in a nearby Sanctuary– and they can’t wait to see what she can endure.
Pairing: Seokjin x ReaderOther Tags: Lord!Seokjin, Lady!Reader, Lord!Jimin, Lord!Jimin, Lord!Yoongi
Genre: Regency!AU, Strangers to Lovers, Angst, Fluff, HEA
Word Count: 16.8k+
Summary: What unfolds when a gentleman's noble effort to help a lady in distress inadvertently tarnishes her reputation? He finds himself bound to protect her honor at any cost—even if it means risking his own life.
Warnings: Attempted assault on reader, society at this time was very judgement, practically forced marriage, but they like one another so it's fine, everyone has a title that is different from their true names, because they're Earls and own land, Eisen is disgusting, Jin is a gentleman, mentions of sex, illusions to sex, light teasing, need for an heir, Jin has a 'My Lord' kink, kissing (scandalous at this time), pregnancy, child birth, minor character death, dueling, main character injured, let me know if I missed anything...
A/N: I've been trying to write in new styles and dive into different themes outside of fantasy, and so I really stepped out of my comfort zone to write this one. Rereading some Jane Austen was also helpful. Hope you enjoy.
Perhaps it was the oppressive heat radiating from the hundreds of flickering candles scattered throughout the ballroom that made him uneasy. But more likely, it was the desperate air of the young woman he’d just finished dancing with. The Earl of Rushmore felt a prickling sensation crawl up his spine, a warning he couldn’t quite dismiss.
“That was ever so splendid, my lord,” Miss Rose Tyrell tittered, bouncing on her toes like an eager puppy. Every exaggerated movement seemed calculated to draw his gaze to her décolletage. “You dance exquisitely.” She leaned in, flashing a smile that he could only interpret as desperate. It turned his stomach.
“It was my pleasure,” he replied, forcing his lips into a smile that barely masked his irritation. The corners of his eyes tightened as he nodded to Sir Gerald Tyrell, her father, standing awkwardly on the periphery. With that, he made to escape the stifling encounter.
Yet just as he turned to leave, the shrill voice of Lady Tyrell pierced the air, dragging him back into tedious conversation. “My lord, we are organizing an outing to Vauxhall Gardens next week, and one of our gentlemen has had to leave London for urgent family business, leaving us one short.” She fluttered her fan with all the grace of a chicken flapping its wings. “Would you do us the honor of joining our group?”
A familiar panic clawed at him, a suffocating sensation that had haunted him through countless soirées with the daughters of ambitious families. It was as if his sordid reputation—of womanizing, reckless drinking, and gambling—had become a beacon, attracting those looking to snag a title for their daughters. The very thought made him itch with the need to flee.
“I’ll have to check my availability,” he said, the words falling from his lips with the practiced ease of a politician. “I shall send word on the morrow. Good evening, ladies.” He bowed stiffly to Miss Tyrell and her mother before making a purposeful exit, each step a declaration of his freedom.
The musicians began to play the next set, and a wave of relief washed over him as he realized he was free from the obligation of dancing with any particular young lady. The evening had thus far been a parade of vapid chatter and trivial pursuits, save for one notable exception—Miss Y/L/N.
He had heard whispers of her modest debut the previous season but had only caught a glimpse of her tonight. There was something about her, an ethereal beauty that shone through the murk of societal expectations, and a vivacious yet modest personality that intrigued him. She shared his passion for stargazing, a rare treasure amidst the sea of watercolor painting and embroidery that most young ladies feigned expertise in.
He spotted his mother among a gaggle of women and approached, forcing a smile. “Mother, I’m going to take a stroll in the garden.”
“Oh, my dear, I had hoped to present you to Miss Webber,” she said, her tone a blend of disappointment and guilt.
Resigned to the endless parade of introductions and dances, he craved a brief escape. “I shall only be gone for one set,” he promised, his voice laced with indulgence.
“Ah yes, and then you’ll disappear into the card room, and it will be impossible to find you a suitable wife. Really, Rushmore, you are two-and-thirty. It’s time you settled down and set up your nursery.”
Her words pricked at him like thorns, and he fought the urge to unleash the torrent of frustration bubbling inside. He knew she meant well; her intentions were rooted in love, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped in a gilded cage.
“Yes, Mother, I understand. If you will excuse me?” He nodded to acquaintances as he maneuvered through the ballroom. Stepping out onto the terrace, he finally felt the weight lift, if only slightly. The coolness of the evening enveloped him, a comforting embrace that allowed him to breathe freely.
Only the crunch of his gleaming Hessian boots broke the silence as he wandered along the gravel path that wove between hedgerows and blooms. He was weary, so utterly weary of the relentless pressure of the marriage mart. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, the sound mingling with the night air.
After a few minutes, he wandered beyond the glow of the paper lanterns dangling from the trees, halting to let his eyes adjust to the enveloping darkness. He tilted his head back, searching for constellations, but the encroaching clouds obscured his view.
In these precious moments of solitude, he could cast aside the weight of his title, the incessant pleas of his mother for an heir. Here, he could simply be Seokjin, not “Rushmore” or “my lord.” He wasn’t sure how long he’d been absent, but he knew it had been long enough for his mother to send a search party to drag him back to the ballroom for another tedious encounter.
The rebellious spirit that had defined his youth flared within him. He would be damned if he shackled himself to one of these vapid fortune hunters. When he married, it would be on his terms, in his time. In a final act of defiance, he chose a longer route back, hoping to prolong this rare moment of freedom.
As he strolled, he noticed a section of the path where the stones had been disturbed and the flowers trampled. He frowned, planning to speak with Lord Min; the gardener needed a firm reminder of his duties.
He had not taken but two steps past the ruined path when he heard a rustling from the rhododendron bushes to his left. He paused, hesitant to interrupt whatever clandestine meeting might be unfolding there. When silence fell once more, curiosity gnawed at him, urging him closer.
Peering through the foliage, he caught sight of an abandoned dancing slipper, its owner nowhere in sight. He almost dismissed it, the corners of his mouth lifting in a wry grin. It had been far too long since he had shared the company of a woman who intrigued him.
But then the unmistakable sound of sobbing pierced the air, and his heart twisted in an unexpected pang of concern. The battle within him waged on, but as he took another step, he spotted a young woman crawling on the ground, frantically searching for that missing shoe.
Instinct propelled him forward. He stepped off the path, making his presence known through the rustling bushes, startling her in the process. She scrambled backward, eyes wide with panic, as if he were a specter come to haunt her. Her skirts were stained with dirt, and her hair hung in disarray, obscuring her features.
“Miss? Are you hurt?” His voice broke the tension, filled with concern.
She whimpered softly, the sound twisting his gut. What had happened to her?
Looking around, he saw no one else nearby, no lurking assailants or companions to provide solace. Crouching down, he made no sudden movements toward her.
“Please, miss, I have no wish to harm you. Do you have a companion or chaperone you would like me to summon?” When silence stretched between them, he tried again, softer this time. “Let me help you back to the ball. We’ll find a discreet entrance—somewhere hidden.”
At last, she raised her head, and he sucked in a sharp breath. How had Y/N Y/L/N ended up in such a predicament? By all accounts, she was the embodiment of propriety, not one to engage in scandal.
As he took in her appearance, he noticed the tear in the bodice of her gown, the clutched remnants of a pair of drawers that were also damaged. Rage ignited within him, a hot ember that flared into a blaze. It was one thing for a man to indulge his desires with a mistress, but to force himself on an innocent like Miss Y/L/N? That was an outrage beyond measure.
"Who did this to you, Miss Y/L/N?" he demanded, his voice low, strained, as though the question had been pulled from the very depths of a dark pit within him.
She shook her head, her entire body trembling, a fragile thing caught in a tempest. "No one, my lord," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
Her reticence ignited a fury in him, a volcanic rage simmering beneath the surface, but he clamped down on it. He wanted to shake her, to rattle loose the truth from her lips like a confession from a guilty soul. But he held back, aware that rage could consume him whole.
"So you mean to tell me that you've ruined your hair, shredded your dress, and torn your—" He faltered, words dying on his tongue as he caught sight of the cruel red welts marring her cheek, vivid streaks of pain that seemed to shout a silent accusation at the dark night. His nostrils flared, drawing in the scent of roses mingling with something more sinister—fear.
"And you did this all to yourself?" he asked through gritted teeth, the effort to contain his fury almost painful. "Forgive me if I find that scenario a little hard to swallow. Tell me who has harmed you, and I will see the blackguard brought to account for his actions."
He stood up, a sudden restlessness seizing him, his hands clenching and unclenching as he flipped the tails of his dark blue superfine coat behind him. The air crackled with the unspoken promise of violence, a storm gathering within him as he paced, thoughts colliding like thunderheads in a darkening sky. Abruptly, he stopped and pointed at her drawers, still clutched tightly against her chest. "Did he manage to...?"
The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating. He couldn’t voice the horrific possibility that loomed over them, and for a fleeting moment, he marveled at the violent protectiveness rising up from the depths of his heart. It felt foreign, primal.
She shook her head, her gaze dropping to the ground, a broken bird struggling to mend its wings. A small whimper escaped her lips, and his heart twisted painfully at the sight. She winced as she shifted her weight to her unshod foot, and his anger flared anew. Who had she been dancing with after him? The names flooded his mind, but one stood out—a dark specter of a man who lurked at the edges of polite society.
Jonathon, Lord Eisen.
In the grand tapestry of reputation, Seokjin would be the saint compared to the notorious Viscount Eisen, a man known for treating young ladies like pawns in his cruel game. Wealthy, yes, but at what cost?
"Did Lord Eisen do this?" he pressed, the words a growl. "Did he lure you into the gardens?"
Her eyes widened, a silent acknowledgment that echoed like a bell tolling a grim fate. In the distance, a chorus of voices called her name, the urgency cutting through the night like a knife. They were looking for her, and the dread of discovery hung in the air, a heavy mist curling around them.
"Miss Y/L/N, please, let me help you back before we’re found in this position. There’s no reason to ruin your reputation by being seen with someone like me."
She blushed, ducking her head, and for a moment, he thought he glimpsed a flicker of a smile. But then, she faltered, her fragile façade crumbling. "I cannot walk, my lord. I fear I have... s-sprained my ankle."
Reality crashed over him as he realized that the chill in the air had seeped into her bones, amplifying the shivering that gripped her. With a quick determination, he shrugged off his topcoat and draped it around her shoulders, enveloping her in warmth, an oasis in a desert of despair.
"Put your arm around my neck," he instructed gently, bending down to meet her eyes. When she complied, her drawers still clutched in the other hand, he lifted her as though she weighed nothing, an echo of the strength he didn’t know he possessed. As he carried her toward the house, the softness of her body against his ignited something deep within him, a rush of feelings he was unprepared to face.
"Why did he stop?" he asked, the question an uneasy tremor in the quiet of the night.
She inhaled sharply, her breath hitching, and laid her head against his shoulder. For a heartbeat, he thought she wouldn’t answer, but then, with a voice steeped in trembling fear, she whispered close to his ear, "I fought him. I kicked and scratched... That’s when he slapped me. I think he heard you coming."
The revelation stirred a darkness within him, igniting a fierce desire for vengeance. "He will pay for this," Seokjin vowed, his heart pounding with a dangerous intensity. The very air crackled with his determination to protect her honor. She had a brother, a man more than willing to seek revenge, and yet, here he was, feeling like a moth drawn to the flame of her vulnerability.
As her head rested against his shoulder, a curious weight settled around his throat, tightening like a noose, a reminder that he had no business becoming entangled in her fate. But how could he turn away when the shadows had crept into her life, and he felt the unmistakable tug of something deeper than duty—something that felt like destiny.
What a coil! thought Y/N, a frenzied swirl of confusion and unease tightening in her chest. She had only intended to stroll with Lord Eisen along the terrace, the moonlight casting a soft glow over the manicured gardens. But when he asked about her interest in the stars, her passion ignited, and she began chattering like an eager canary, the words spilling forth in a rush, a desperate bid for connection.
Lost in her own celestial musings, she hadn’t noticed the subtle shift in direction until it was too late. The secluded part of the garden loomed before her like a trap waiting to snap shut. In an instant, the air around her thickened with a sense of foreboding, the fragrant blooms suddenly oppressive.
It was all she could do to keep her wits about her as he forced her against a tree, the bark digging into her back, bruising her lips with punishing kisses that felt like a betrayal of her very soul. She raked her fingernails down his cheek, a desperate act of defiance, but instead of pulling back, it only seemed to stoke the fire in his eyes, a dark hunger awakening within him.
She burrowed her face into Lord Rushmore's shoulder, desperately trying to will the shame of what Lord Eisen had done to her to dissipate like morning mist. Had she behaved wantonly? No, she had acted every bit the lady, hadn’t she? But the tightness in her throat mounted, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. Cursing her overactive emotions, she knew she needed a moment to compose herself before returning to the ball, to that cruel world of social masks and whispered judgments.
As they entered the lit portion of the garden, her brother's voice bellowed her name, booming through the night like a thunderclap. Panic surged in her chest, and she cast about for a more private place, somewhere she could gather the scattered pieces of herself.
"Lord Rushmore's, might we sit at that bench for a moment while I attempt to put myself to rights?" she implored, her voice quivering.
When she looked up into his eyes, she felt that same fluttering sensation that had gripped her during their earlier waltz. His eyes, an unsettling shade of green, seemed to pierce through the façade she tried so hard to maintain. She couldn't help but notice the strength of his arms, how effortlessly he carried her, as if she were nothing more than a feather. And if she were being completely honest, the way his coat hugged his broad torso and how those buff-colored breeches molded to his powerful thighs made her heart race in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.
Heat flooded her cheeks as that thought twisted inside her like a serpent coiling tighter, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw something flicker in Lord Rushmore's gaze—a fleeting spark that vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving behind only his mask of calm.
He nodded once, a movement fluid and deliberate, and made his way to a weathered stone bench nestled behind a grouping of lilacs. The flowers whispered secrets in the night breeze, and she felt both comforted and exposed in their presence. With utmost care, he deposited her onto the bench before turning to stand guard, his posture protective, a fortress against the horrors she had just endured.
Hastily, she donned the torn drawers, feeling the fabric scratch against her skin, but it was better than being seen carrying her undergarments. As she fussed with the bodice of her cream chiffon and lace gown, the reality of her disheveled state crashed over her, a wave of hopelessness that threatened to drown her. The earlier magic of the evening had been shattered, leaving only fragments of what could have been.
But perhaps not completely. The thrill of being in the arms of such a handsome man still pulsed through her veins, even if he wasn’t the type a respectable girl should find appealing. The allure of a man with a dangerous reputation was like a moth drawn to flame, intoxicating yet perilous.
It was silly to think such thoughts, she chastised herself. He was merely doing his gentlemanly duty, ensuring her safe return. Any notion that he might entertain feelings for her was absurd. Besides, the gossip among the parlors of the ton painted him as a confirmed bachelor, much to his mother’s dismay.
She twisted one last piece of hair, pinning it into the mass of curls and braids atop her head. "Do I still look as though I’ve been tumbled in the bushes?" She rested her hands in her lap and looked at the Earl, who seemed lost in thought.
He took several deep breaths, and she wondered if he, too, felt the weight of the moment pressing down on them. His nostrils flared, lips pursed, as he studied her appearance, and the intensity of his gaze sent a fresh wave of heat rising in her cheeks. She cast her eyes down, biting her lower lip to keep from trembling under the weight of his scrutiny.
"Well, your color seems to have returned," he said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, reminiscent of her brother's teasing ways.
"May I examine your ankle?" he asked, shifting to sit next to her on the bench.
Without waiting for her consent, he leaned down and lifted both of her feet, drawing them across his lap. A furious heat shot through her, screaming in indignation, How dare he? But as his warm hands slipped off her dancing shoe and began to probe her foot, any righteous fury fled her like a shadow at dawn.
His touch was gentle, exploring the instep, his fingers moving with a calm assurance that sent shivers racing up her spine. She hissed when he pressed on a particularly tender spot, and he nodded softly, his eyes focused and intent, then replaced her slipper without lowering her feet.
"It has begun to swell slightly, but I don’t believe it to be broken." His words were curt, almost clinical, yet they held a honeyed warmth that seeped into her bones, loosening the tension that had coiled tightly within her.
"And my hair— is it even remotely presentable?" She caught his gaze, feeling ensnared, unable to break free from the magnetic pull between them. The sweet scent of lilacs surrounded them like a fog, and even though she was wrapped snugly in the Earl’s topcoat, a chill raced through her.
For a long moment, the world around them fell away, leaving only the two of them in that secret garden, an electric energy drawing them closer together.
"Far more than presentable," he murmured, inching closer, his breath warm against her skin.
His hand lifted, tentatively brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. As his fingers lingered against her jaw, she felt the weight of his gaze, a tether pulling her into the depths of something she could neither understand nor resist.
Her heart thundered in her chest, a wild drumbeat that seemed to echo the chaos of the night. In that fleeting moment, as the lilacs danced in the night breeze, the world faded away, leaving only the two of them standing on the precipice of something undeniably profound.
“Sis-...Kim! Unhand my sister at once!”
Like the fragile sheen of a child’s soap bubble, the magic enveloping them burst the moment Anthony’s voice cut through the night—a jagged shard of ice in a world of warmth. In what felt like a heartbeat, Anthony surged forward, seizing the Earl and slamming him against the rough bark of an ancient elm, his forearm digging into the Earl’s throat with a grim resolve.
Lord Rushmore's retreating form was replaced by her father, who seized her by the shoulders, his gaze sweeping over her with the intensity of a hawk eyeing its prey. "Her dress is torn," he shouted, as if those words could mend the fraying fabric of her dignity. The sheer horror in her father’s tone twisted the knife in her gut, causing Anthony’s grip on the Earl to tighten, his elbow pressing cruelly into the Earl’s neck.
“Anthony, stop! This isn’t what it seems…” Panic clawed at her throat as she saw the search party gather, shadows converging on their secluded haven. Her heart sank, heavy and leaden, as if it were chained to the ground.
“What has that scoundrel done to you, my child?” Her father’s voice was a fierce whisper, laden with unspoken fears.
To his credit, the Earl of Rushmore merely grasped Anthony's arm, a desperate attempt to stave off asphyxiation, doing nothing to fight back against the encroaching storm.
In moments, the terrace teemed with onlookers, the whole ballroom spilling out into the moonlight, the murmurs and gasps igniting an electric buzz that thrummed in the air, each sound a reminder of their encroaching doom.
“Anthony, summon the carriage and fetch your mother,” her father commanded, voice clipped and taut.
Anthony nodded, stepping back, the heat of anger still radiating from him. He straightened, eyes ablaze, locking onto the Earl with a fury that promised retribution. “This isn’t over, Kim. We’ll speak tomorrow at Parke’s.” With that, he turned and stormed off, leaving chaos in his wake, people scattering like leaves before a gale.
The music from the ballroom swelled, Lady Min's voice announcing the supper dances, a cruel mockery of their plight. In mere moments, the crowd thinned, but it was clear that The Honorable Y/N Y/L/N, daughter of Lord and Lady Y/L/N, and The Earl of Rushmore would become the latest gossip—a scandal writ large against the night sky.
By dawn, Parke’s gentleman's club buzzed with wagers, bets slung like daggers as men debated Lord Rushmore's fate: Would he indeed find himself shackled in matrimony? How quickly would he wed Miss Y/L/N? And would her brother, Mr. Y/L/N, take the Earl’s life for this affront?
“Tough lot there, ol’ chap,” Lord Newton said as Seokjin strode past, his voice laced with mockery. “Too much trouble for a bit of muslin, wouldn’t you agree?”
Seokjin turned, ready to unleash fury, but two strong hands—one muscular, the other wiry—restrained him, anchoring him before he could lash out.
“Save your fists, Kim. There’s nothing to be gained from boors like Newton,” Namjoon, Lord Halston, his cousin, interjected, grounding Seokjin with his steady presence.
The fight ebbed from Seokjin’s body as Halston’s words sank in. Jimin, Lord Whitmore, gave his shoulder a reassuring pat before releasing him, the trio turning from the cowering Lord Bolton as they slipped into a more private parlor.
Both Park and Halston had witnessed the disastrous ball, no explanation needed for the morning’s stirrings around the betting book. Seokjin had already divulged the details of the night’s chaos, though in truth, it mattered little. Reputation was a delicate thing, and in the eyes of the ton, he’d become the villain in Miss Y/L/N’s tale.
“Will you go make your addresses to her father?” Park asked, his tone serious.
“I fear I must,” Seokjin replied, frustration twisting in his gut. “Blast it, I never meant to land myself in this mess.”
“Come now, Kim. The chit seems biddable enough. She won’t put up a fuss if you want your freedoms, will she?” Halston suggested, shaking open the daily news with a flourish.
Seokjin groaned, raking his fingers through his hair, the weight of propriety and duty pressing down on him. “That’s not how the Kim men are bred. Blast!” He tapped his fingers against the table, cursing the moral fibers woven into his being.
A light touch on his forearm brought his attention back. Park’s finger pointed to the door, signaling an approaching visitor. Seokjin looked up to see Anthony Y/L/N enter, flanked by two unfamiliar young men.
“Kim,” Anthony greeted, his tone frosty.
“Mr. Y/L/N,” Seokjin replied, offering a curt nod, the air thickening with tension.
“I’m here to settle the matter of my sister’s honor.”
“I assumed as much. I assure you, I’ll speak to Lord Y/L/N and Miss Y/L/N tomorrow.”
“Did you compromise her on purpose? What was your design?” Anthony stepped forward, rage simmering just beneath the surface.
Seokjin sighed, rising from his chair, emboldened by the silent support of his friends. “I did no such thing. Did she explain what happened?”
“She did, but you should have known better than to be caught in such a position with her—especially with her appearance in such a state. You knew that tongues would wag, and wag they have.”
Seokjin could see Anthony’s fists clenching, breath coming in sharp bursts, his face a mask of barely-contained fury. He’d heard whispers of Anthony’s quick temper but had never imagined standing on the receiving end.
He took a step closer, his finger jabbing into Anthony’s chest. “See here, Y/L/N, I’m prepared to offer the protection of my name and title to your sister. What would you have had me do? Walk away and leave her vulnerable? If I hadn’t intervened, Lord Eisen would have ruined her reputation, violated her very person.”
The words struck a nerve, twisting Anthony’s expression into one of frustration and disbelief.
“Her reputation will be salvaged,” Seokjin pressed on, “and in a few weeks, another scandal will eclipse this one. What more do you want? Will you have your pound of flesh, too?”
They stood nearly nose to nose now, the air between them electric with tension, fists ready to unleash fury.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I require,” Anthony spat, his voice low and dangerous.
“And if you kill me, where does that leave your sister?”
Seokjin should have known better than to expect any form of civility from the brutish Anthony. The man was a wall of muscle, a shadow looming over him like a thunderstorm ready to unleash its fury. Sure, Anthony had height and heft on his side, but Seokjin was no stranger to the dark art of combat, having spent countless hours in the ring at Gentleman Jackson's boxing saloon. There, he had learned the subtleties of tactical fighting—the way a well-placed jab could shift the tide of a bout. Confidence flowed through him like the heavy liquor that coated the floor of the dimly lit establishment.
"Well, then, let us do this in grand fashion, shall we?" Seokjin said, a smirk dancing on his lips, concealing the tremor of anxiety curling in his gut like a serpent ready to strike.
"What did you have in mind?" Anthony grunted, his voice deep and gravelly, like rocks grinding underfoot.
"A match at Jackson's. Until one of us is rendered unconscious or yields." Seokjin’s heart raced at the thought, part anticipation, part dread.
Mr. Y/L/N paused, glancing between his companions as if he were deciphering a silent code in their expressions. After a moment’s consideration, he crossed his meaty arms over his chest, the muscles bulging like a tightly wound spring. "Agreed. When?"
"Tomorrow afternoon. I shall call upon your father and sister in the morning." The words hung in the air, heavy with implication.
"Very well," Anthony replied, the growl in his throat barely concealing his eagerness for confrontation.
As the brutish figure turned to leave, Seokjin felt a sudden surge of courage. "Mr. Y/L/N?"
The response was a low, menacing growl. "What now?"
"I do have one small request."
"And that is?"
"Try not to do too much damage to my face. I would hate to have two black eyes and a crooked nose on my wedding day." He forced a chuckle, but it echoed hollowly against the walls of the club.
"You'll be lucky if that's all I leave you with," Anthony grumbled, the threat hanging in the air like a storm cloud. He turned and strode out of the club, his companions trailing like lost souls in his wake.
Once the tension subsided, Seokjin let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.
"Park?" he asked, turning to his friend.
"Yes, Kim?"
"Do you still have a connection with a certain Bow Street informant?" His voice was a low murmur, as if the walls had ears.
"I do. Shall I put him on the lookout for Lord Eisen?" Park asked, his brow furrowing.
"If you would be so kind, but nothing official, mind." Seokjin felt the weight of impending doom settle over him like a shroud.
Jimin nodded in understanding, murmuring, "Of course."
"And cousin, will you stand as my second on the morrow?" Seokjin's heart raced at the thought of what was to come.
Namjoon slapped a heavy hand on Seokjin's shoulder, the gesture grounding him. "You needn't ask, my friend. I should be honored to watch you knock some sense into the man."
Y/N sat at her dressing table, her maid working diligently to pin up her hair. As she gazed at her reflection, the visage staring back was a stranger, a ghost of the girl she once was. Her eyes felt like sandpaper, dry and weary, the dark smudges beneath them growing more pronounced, shadows of a soul haunted by secrets.
The day after the ball had stretched on in suffocating isolation, each hour dragging like a lead weight. She preferred the company of her book of prayers, each line a refuge from the storm brewing outside her door. It was far better than facing the ire of her father, who would surely unleash a torrent of censure and berating upon her head.
She had attempted to explain the events with Lord Eisen, how Lord Rushmore's was more the hero than the villain in this twisted tale, but her words had fallen on deaf ears. Ignoring her mother’s advice to stay on the terrace, she had strolled with Lord Eisen, allowing the specter of scandal to wrap its cold fingers around her throat.
Her mother had nearly succumbed to a fit of vapors upon hearing the details. The tips of her father’s waxed moustache twitched with barely suppressed rage, while Anthony, her brother, remained frighteningly silent. Once home, she had been ushered into her father’s study for a thorough dressing down, sent to her room like a recalcitrant child.
With a final pin, her maid bobbed a curtsy and exited Y/N’s bedchamber, leaving her in a silence thick enough to suffocate. Lady Y/L/N had dispatched her own maid with orders for Y/N to don her most modest day gown and report to the formal parlor. With trepidation, she slipped into a simple, light blue frock that covered her to her collarbones, devoid of any embellishments. Her hair twisted into a knot, soft waves framing her face, a fragile semblance of grace.
She took her time nibbling on toast, each bite a reminder of the world outside her door, where shadows danced with whispers of her impending fate. Checking her appearance once more, she steeled herself and made her way to the parlor.
There, she found her mother waiting for her, worry etched into every line of her refined features. Lady Y/L/N had once been a beauty, but the years had wrought their toll, drawing tight the skin around her eyes and pursing her lips into a thin line.
"Good morning, Mother," Y/N said, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on her mother’s cheek, the contact feeling more like a farewell than a greeting.
"Your father is speaking to the Earl of Rushmore. I suggest you prepare yourself for his offer. You’ll be the luckiest girl of the season if he does what is proper and expected."
Stunned, Y/N felt her heart drop into the abyss of despair. This was only her second season, and she was barely prepared for the storm brewing on the horizon. Marriage? To a man she hardly knew, with a reputation as murky as the depths of a shadowy lake?
"Mother, I cannot marry him. I do not even know him. I—"
"Do not entertain any notion of rebellion, Y/N. If he offers, you shall accept. It is the only way to salvage your reputation, which is, at this moment, in tatters after your comfortable coze in Lady Min’s garden." Her mother's voice was sharp, laced with urgency.
"But I... I had hoped to have some kind of affection for the man I married." Her voice trailed off, nearly swallowed by the silence, as tears threatened to spill over.
The rustle of her mother’s voluminous skirts approached, and she felt the settee dip as Lady Y/L/N sat beside her, a gentle finger lifting Y/N’s chin. Their eyes met, and in that moment, she saw the weight of her mother’s own sacrifices reflected back at her.
"My child, I wish it were possible for us all to marry for love. But circumstances dictate otherwise. If you do not accept Lord Rushmore's, your prospects of a good match will vanish. And there are far worse fates than becoming a countess, don't you think?"
As if summoned by fate, the door swung open, and a footman announced Lord Rushmore's and Lord Y/L/N, their arrival heralded like the final note of a dissonant chord.
"My lady, if you will accompany me, there are a few matters we must attend to," her father said, glancing at her mother with a look that brooked no argument. "Y/N, the Earl has a matter of utmost importance to discuss with you."
The footman closed the door, sealing her in a cage of expectation with Lord Rushmore's.
He was breathtakingly handsome, a figure draped in a dark brown topcoat, gold embroidery catching the dim light like whispers of wealth and power. Beneath it, a tan waistcoat clung to him, a gold watch fob glinting like a promise—or a threat. The crisp, white linen neckcloth, simply knotted, was elegant against his throat, while breeches hugged his thighs sinfully until they disappeared into polished boots, a facade of civility masking the predator within.
It seemed that Seokjin had made a valiant attempt to bring order to his hair, but it had either been ruffled by his own restless hands or simply refused to be tamed, a wild, untamed creature defying all attempts at restraint. If one were to judge solely by his disheveled appearance, one might assume he had just rolled out of bed, a thought that sent Y/N's mind spiraling into a frenzy of embarrassment and shame. What was she doing, allowing herself to entertain such visions of him in her most private moments?
As she cataloged his tousled locks and haphazard attire, she caught him doing the very same, his eyes roving over her like a thief scouting for hidden treasures. Suddenly, she felt exposed, vulnerable before this man whose presence filled the room with an unsettling energy. She ducked her head, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth, unable to find a single word to break the silence.
"Miss Y/L/N, I … How do you fare?" His voice was hesitant, laced with a nervous edge that made her heart race.
She glanced up just in time to see him pinch his eyes shut, as if steeling himself against a tempest of emotions.
"I am as fine as can be expected," she replied, her words feeling hollow in the charged atmosphere.
"Yes, well. To the matter at hand, then." He cleared his throat, the sound echoing like a distant thunderclap, and positioned himself in front of her, a statue of formal propriety. "Your father and I have discussed the situation, and I am prepared to offer you the protection of my name. I should have exercised more discretion at the ball, and for that, I apologize."
His hands clasped behind his back, his tone dripping with cold formality, the chill of icicles punctuating his every syllable. This was not the vibrant man she had encountered amidst the chaos of the ball. No, this was a figure of duty, an automaton wrapped in layers of ice, and she hated him for it.
"The protection of your name?" she echoed, her voice trembling slightly. "And what exactly would that mean?" She widened her eyes, feigning innocence, though she was no naive girl fresh from the nursery. She understood that marriage in their society came with varying degrees of commitment, some more binding than others.
His forehead wrinkled as he coughed, the sound a harsh rasp, before he paced toward the fireplace. Leaning on the mantle, he turned his gaze toward her, and she stood frozen in place, her spine straightening, shoulders squared, meeting his eyes with an intensity that seemed to draw the very air from the room.
"You would be my wife," he said, words flowing from him like a river, cold and unyielding. "The Countess of Rushmore. You would receive a generous allowance to purchase whatever you desire, and any scandal that may have tongues wagging today would practically disappear once we are wed."
"Do you wish to marry me?" The question escaped her lips before she could cage it, catching him off guard, a momentary flicker of surprise crossing his handsome face.
"Of course I do. I feel immensely… protective of you. I care a great deal for you." His eyes bore into hers, but she sensed a wall between them, one built on duty rather than desire.
"And is there anyone else for whom you care a great deal?" The words trembled on her tongue, and she felt the atmosphere thicken, charged with unspoken truths.
"I beg your pardon, but I don’t follow," he replied, brow furrowing in confusion.
She twisted her fingers together, summoning every ounce of courage as she faced the specter of societal norms that haunted her thoughts. "Do you support a… a mistress?" The word slipped out in a whisper, the weight of it heavy as it filled the space between them. She glanced up and saw his eyes widen, then quickly cast her gaze down, words tumbling out in a rush. "Because I do not believe I could stand such an arrangement. I would rather be a ruined woman and marry a nobody and live in the country for the rest of my life than to share a husband with another woman." Her voice faded into nothing, grounded firmly in the floorboards beneath her.
"I do not have a mistress," he replied, the certainty in his voice like a lifeline. "Once we are wed, I will remain faithful to you and you alone. You have nothing to worry about on that score."
Relief washed over her for a fleeting moment before the weight of his words sank in. If he had no mistress, then he would expect a marriage that was not just a façade but a binding of souls, in name and in deed. She swallowed thickly and nodded, her heart a tumultuous storm of fear and longing.
"Y/N," he began, then hesitated, as if the weight of her name held more gravity than he anticipated. "May I call you Y/N?"
"Yes, my lord."
He had moved closer, now standing directly in front of her, the space between them charged with a palpable energy. "Will you call me Seokjin?" he asked, his voice dropping to a soothing tenor that wrapped around her insides like a warm embrace, calming the quivering nerves.
Tentatively, she peeked up from beneath her eyelashes, finding his gaze steady, a promise held within its depths. She nodded, a silent acceptance.
"Very well. Y/N, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" His words, heavy with intent, settled over her like a shroud.
"Yes, Seokjin. I will marry you."
In that moment, as the promise hung in the air, she felt the world shift beneath her, a groundless fear mingling with an unexpected thrill. What lay ahead was shrouded in shadows, and yet, she found herself stepping forward into the unknown, hand in hand with a man who, in this moment, could be both her salvation and her doom.
It had been two days since the boxing match with Y/N, a brutal affair that had gone better than Seokjin had dared to hope. Anthony had landed only a single glancing blow to his jaw, leaving a faint bruise that shadowed his skin like a lingering ghost. But the rest of him was a veritable tapestry of pain—blues and purples smeared across his torso, greens and yellows blooming like grotesque flowers. He had given as good as he got, though, and after twelve grueling rounds, Gentleman Jackson had declared the contest a tie. Both men had stood, panting and bloodied, a testament to their resilience and foolishness.
As he climbed into the high-perch phaeton, wincing at the pressure on his bruised ribs, he took the reins from his tiger. Concealing his injuries from Y/N would be no easy feat. The drive to the Y/L/N home was filled with thoughts that gnawed at him like a persistent rat. He couldn’t shake the notion that he had unwittingly fallen into a parson’s mousetrap, the kind of snare that snapped shut when you least expected it.
It wasn’t exactly a shock that Y/N had accepted his proposal. Had she not, London would have turned into a bleak wasteland for her and her family, the whispers of scandal echoing like a funeral dirge. No, the real surprise was the absence of panic that usually clawed at him like a feral animal. He felt no urge to flee, no desire to escape as he had with every other prospective bride. Not even the promise of fidelity had made him balk. Instead, he felt an unsettling calm settle over him, a strange sort of acceptance.
But one thing did trouble him: the absence of Lord Eisen. The man who had wronged Y/N had become a phantom, slipping through the cracks of society’s brittle façade. Seokjin felt a duty to call the villain to account for his behavior, and if an apology was not forthcoming, a duel would have to suffice—a duel to defend her honor, the stakes set high against the backdrop of the London social season.
To his surprise, Y/N was ready only moments after he entered the foyer. His feet seemed to sprout roots, anchoring him to the spot as he watched her descend the staircase. She wore a fashionable lemon-colored dress that clung to her slim waist, the kind of style that screamed sophistication, while her straw bonnet was adorned with a delicate spray of white and yellow flowers. Yet, despite the beauty of the scene, her smile was an unsettling mask—forced, like a stage actor trying desperately to remember their lines.
Perhaps she was not as pleased with her lot as she ought to be. Wasn’t every young woman supposed to dream of snagging a peer for a husband? Seokjin didn’t think himself a hardship to look at, and he had promised her generosity. It left him genuinely perplexed at the cloudiness of her demeanor, like storm clouds brewing overhead. He would have to suss her out during their drive.
“Good afternoon, Miss Y/L/N. You are as lovely as a summer day,” he said, taking her gloved hand and pressing his lips to it, a gesture that felt both tender and fraught with unspoken tension.
“Thank you, my lord,” she replied, that delicious blush creeping into her cheeks, bright as the dawn.
“Have you driven in a phaeton before?” he inquired, trying to gauge her mood, the air thick with an undercurrent of something he couldn't quite name.
“No, I have not. Is it terribly high?” she asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into her voice.
“The highest,” he grinned, tucking her hand through his arm, the warmth of her presence grounding him amidst his swirling thoughts.
They crept along Rotten Row, the most fashionable hour for seeing and being seen. Nods and exchanges flitted between them like whispers in a crowded theater, laughter and gossip hanging heavy in the air. Park and Halston stopped to chat, their words a playful torment that turned Seokjin’s ears to fire. To her credit, Y/N managed to handle his friends with a practiced expertise, her demure laughter a welcome balm.
But as they parted ways, an open barouche approached, filled with the resident dragons of the beau monde—women so high in the instep they would snub even their own kin if it threatened their standing. Seokjin braced himself, prepared for the cut direct that would slice through the pretense of civility. He turned on his most charming smile, tipping the brim of his hat to them, a mask of confidence. To his relief, they nodded at him and Y/N, their plumed hats bobbing like strange birds pecking for seeds, momentarily offering her the protection that came with his name.
He directed the phaeton down a less congested avenue, glancing at his fiancée. “I’ve acquired a special license to marry. I thought this Friday would give you enough time to have your maid pack your things and deliver them to my home. Is that enough time for you to prepare?”
Her gaze drifted, unfocused as she twirled her parasol in lazy circles, caught somewhere between anticipation and anxiety. “Yes. I believe that will be enough time. Mother has a modiste working ‘round the clock, but my gown should be ready by then.” A laugh erupted from her, bright but edged with a hint of disbelief. “The poor woman nearly fell over herself for the privilege of making the new Countess of Kim’s wedding dress.” Her voice trailed off, shyness washing over her as if she had stepped into a cold river. “We’ll be going to Bond Street tomorrow for my other bride clothes, so there is little else for me to assemble.”
He was disarmed by her effortless humility, the sincerity of her words only adding to her appeal, like a faint light in the darkness.
“Do you have any opinion on the location? Somewhere small and private, perhaps?”
Had this been a typical courtship, he would have expected them to reserve St. George’s in Hanover Square, the kind of place where fashionable ton weddings occurred. His mother would’ve insisted upon it, a parade of acquaintances, all eager to witness the spectacle. But this was no ordinary wedding; it was a necessity—a desperate plea for normalcy in a world that felt increasingly chaotic. A smaller chapel would better serve their needs, he thought, yet he couldn’t shake the sense that their union was more than just a formality.
“Whatever you think best,” she said, her voice flat, as if she were reading from a script that had long lost its meaning.
Seokjin snapped the reins, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the silence that enveloped them. He tried to ignore the unease pooling in his gut, still grappling with the enigma of Y/N’s enthusiasm—or lack thereof. Just then, the wheels on his side of the phaeton jolted over a substantial pothole, and Y/N slammed into him, the impact hard enough to make the breath hiss from his lungs.
The sudden gasp nearly made him curse, but he swallowed it down, letting his hand drift to the bruised ribs that throbbed beneath his shirt. “I’m terribly sorry, my lo—Seokjin. I didn’t think I jarred you so.”
“No, it’s not your fault. I… I’m just careless with the ribbons,” he replied, teeth clenched like a vice.
Her brow furrowed in confusion, as if she were trying to decipher a foreign language. He waved away her concern, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “Why do you seem so displeased with our arrangement?”
She sighed, her mouth curving downward, eyes fixated on something far beyond the horizon. “It’s rather silly, really.”
“Nothing important to you is silly,” he countered, slowing the horses until they came to a stop beneath a canopy of fragrant trees, their leaves whispering secrets to one another. He turned to face her fully, heart hammering like a ticking time bomb.
“I suppose I just feel… very inexperienced.”
“Shall we try and remedy that, my darling?” He took her hand, cradling it gently as if it were something fragile, something that might shatter at the slightest misstep.
“Whatever do you mean?” Her voice dropped to a whisper that danced over him, sparking warmth in the chill air, stirring something deep within his chest.
“May I try something?”
She blinked, once, twice, the uncertainty in her gaze unraveling him. “Yes?”
He leaned closer, slowly, carefully, as if drawing nearer to a wild creature, waiting for it to either flee or surrender. Patience enveloped them, thick and electric, rekindling that tension from the ball, drawing them together like moths to a flickering flame.
When her eyes fluttered shut, he crossed the distance and pressed his lips to hers. It was a gentle exploration, soft and hesitant, the taste of sweetness enveloping him like a shroud. Her rigid posture melted against him, a warmth spreading through his veins. He relished the sound of her breath hitching, the quiet gasps of surprise that filled the air like a prayer.
But reality loomed, a footman lurking at the back of the phaeton, the world of Hyde Park still swirling around them. He savored the way her hands clung to his biceps, the way she leaned into him, trusting and vulnerable.
As their kiss lingered, he pulled back, heart racing, and squeezed her hands gently. “Despite what you may have heard of my reputation, I want you to be happy. It’s my foremost pursuit. You’ve come to mean the world to me, Y/N. Once we are wed, I hope you will let me court you properly.”
She bit her lip, turning her face just enough to hide a smile beneath the brim of her bonnet. “That sounds lovely.”
A week passed—an entire week!—since their wedding, and Seokjin had done nothing more than kiss her lightly before she retreated to her separate bedchamber. Days melted into one another in their Mayfair townhouse, filled with light conversation about likes and dislikes, books, and the shifting tides of politics. Each night, he would escort her to her door, kiss her as one might kiss a sibling, and disappear into the silence of his own room.
Y/N had mentally prepared herself for the duty all wives were expected to perform, and the absence of that first night stung like a phantom limb. With each passing day, her fondness for Seokjin grew—perhaps even love—but every time he sent her to bed alone felt like a deeper wound, a rejection wrapped in tenderness.
Staring at the heavy brocaded tapestries above her, she fumed, a tempest brewing in her chest. Enough was enough. She threw off the covers, slipped into her dressing gown, and marched through the hushed rooms until she found his. His valet must have retired, for the air was thick with stillness and the promise of secrets.
Without so much as a knock, she flung open the door to his bedroom and halted. There he stood, just out of reach of the fire’s glow, a vision of raw masculinity with one hand resting on the counterpane of his bed. Her breath caught in her throat, captivated by the lean muscles of his back, the dimples above his shapely behind. But then she saw the shadows—fading bruises that painted his torso like a cruel map of his suffering.
“Good Lord,” she gasped, horror mingling with concern. “What happened to you?”
His shoulders slumped as he shrugged into his dressing gown, the fabric whispering secrets against his skin. He approached her, tying the sash, hands sliding into the pockets like a man trying to hide the evidence of his pain.
“It’s nothing, my sweet. Please don’t concern yourself.”
“Is this why you have not touched me since our wedding?”
“I didn’t want you to see me in such a battered state. If I were to do more than kiss you, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.”
“What happened?”
“An overly enthusiastic sparring partner at Jackson’s boxing saloon.”
Timidly, she spread open the top of his gown. Her heart raced as she traced her fingers over his bruised skin, circling the marks of violence like a moth drawn to a flame. “Who was your partner?”
“I… can’t say as—”
“Please be honest with me. I cannot abide liars.”
He paused, gaze shifting from her eyes to the floor. “It was your brother,” he confessed, the weight of his words pressing down like an anvil.
“And he is the one who gave you the bruise here, I suppose?” Her fingers brushed against the stubble on his jaw, memories of their earlier kiss flooding back, tainted now by the knowledge of violence.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He felt the need to defend your honor. I was the only target available.”
Her grip tightened on his lapels, a surge of anger coursing through her veins. “How positively stupid! You had already offered for me, and I had accepted. Why would you let him pummel you so?”
His soothing voice gripped her, but she wanted no part of it. She stepped away, feeling sick, as if the world had spun off its axis. “And what good would that do? Will you beat him into unconsciousness?”
He winced, a sheepish smile flickering across his face like the dying light of a sunset. “Will you challenge him to a duel?” she asked, her voice laced with disbelief. When he said nothing, her breath hitched, and she gasped, “You would leave me a widow less than a month after our wedding? A marriage we haven’t even consummated?”
His eyes flared like flames licking at dry wood, and he stepped forward, closing the distance between them in one swift motion. His hands gripped her arms, pulling her face to his, their noses almost touching. “Don’t for a second think, Y/N, that I don’t want to consummate our marriage. I’ve burned for you since the moment we crossed that threshold as husband and wife.”
Then, in a rush, his lips crashed against hers, an urgent storm of desire. His hands slipped from her arms, gliding over her shoulders, up her neck, cupping her face with a tenderness that belied the tempest brewing within him. He kissed her, nipping and sucking at the tender flesh along her neck, each brush of his mouth a brush against the very core of her being.
Dizzy, she felt their bodies meld together, pressed tightly from knees to chest, sensations swirling like a maelstrom. When his lips reached her ear, he whispered, “It’s a matter of honor,” and with that simple phrase, she snapped back to reality, the haze of desire dissipating like fog in the morning sun.
“Go then,” she said, her voice sharp as a knife, pushing away from him. “Seek your satisfaction, but do not come to me. I could not bear it if I gave you my entire self only to have you killed over something so trivial now. Y/N Y/L/N is no more; only Lady Y/N Kim, Countess of Rushmore, remains, a woman of standing, one of the most sought-after guests in London.”
With that, she turned and fled to her chamber, locking the doors behind her as if sealing away the chaos of her heart. She collapsed onto her bed, sobbing until her tears ran dry, feeling the weight of her world pressing down upon her.
Seokjin waited for over an hour, but she did not join him in the breakfast parlor. He could feel her vexation in the air, thick and heavy, like a summer storm hanging just before the downpour. If only she could understand how her honor intertwined with his own, how he could not simply walk away from the challenge that had been laid before him.
The prospect of a duel with Eisen loomed, but Seokjin preferred other avenues to address the scoundrel's transgressions. He was ready to confront the man, but only if words failed. Until then, he could only wait, his heart heavy with concern and unspoken words.
He left the door to his study open, hoping to hear the sound of her footsteps. The empty fireplace crackled softly, but the only thing he could focus on was the gnawing worry about her silence. Just then, his butler knocked and announced Lord Whitmore’s arrival.
Seokjin rose to greet his friend, who brushed aside the butler’s offer to take his coat and hat.
“I don’t believe I shall tarry long, Forbes, but thank you,” Lord Whitmore said, glancing at Seokjin with a look that could only be described as appraising.
“Morning, Park. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“You look terrible, Kim. Is the little wife not pleasing you?”
“Speak another word on that subject, and you may find yourself missing a few teeth,” Seokjin growled, tension flooding his veins.
“Easy, friend. I have other news. Eisen’s been spotted.”
At the mention of the man’s name, Seokjin felt his entire body tense, a primal instinct surging through him, the urge to fight. He flexed his fingers, pacing the length of the room. “Where? Has he returned home?”
“No, he was seen last night at a gaming hell near Covent Garden.”
“Your Bow Street friend is tailing him, I presume?”
“Of course.”
“Then what are we doing standing around woolgathering?”
When they found Jonathon Bartlett, Viscount Eisen, he lay slumped over the gaming table, still dazed from the previous night's indulgences. The weary proprietor explained how he’d tried to send the viscount home, but Eisen had threatened violence if anyone laid a hand on him. It went without saying that the authorities weren’t called in, given the establishment’s questionable legality. But that didn’t deter Seokjin; he was resolute in seeking justice for his wife.
“Lord Eisen, I would like a word with you.”
The viscount lifted his head, eyes bloodshot and watering, about to lay it back down when comprehension finally broke through the fog of drink clouding his mind. “Rushmore? Is that you? Poor sot you are, shackled to a fish like her,” he began to laugh, but before he could rise, he slumped back down, surrendering to the inebriation that held him captive.
“You behaved in a most heinous way toward my wife, Eisen,” Seokjin said, his voice steady as granite, muscles taut like a bowstring. He stood with his arms braced on the table, the weight of his indignation anchoring him against the crude laughter of the man before him.
Eisen leaned back, his arrogance filling the space like stale smoke. “You see, Rushmore,” he continued, as if Seokjin’s words were mere whispers against the roar of his own hubris, “it’s not good form to take the chit astride you in plain view of her papa. One must be smarter about these things. At least I had the decency to carry her off to a nice, dark corner of the garden for some real fun.”
“Eisen, I warn you—”
“Doesn’t she have the creamiest thighs you’ve ever seen? A right shame she had to ruin everything by carrying on like a hellcat. What I would give to sink into th—”
In the heartbeat it took for the air to thicken with tension, Lord Rushmore's fist connected with Eisen’s nose, a sickening crunch echoing through the room as the viscount crumpled to the floor, blood spilling like a crimson secret onto the polished wood.
Seokjin would have launched himself atop the man, would have rained down blows until his fury found satisfaction, had it not been for Jimin’s firm hands grasping his shoulders, holding him back like a rabid dog on a leash.
Jonathon, now upright but wobbling, wiped the blood from his face, confusion mingling with rage. “What the devil are you playing at, Rushmore?”
“You will apologize to Lady Rushmore.”
“She barely got what she deserved, the tease. Making eyes and overtures all night, then turning into a proper little prudish thing…”
Seokjin slowly removed his leather gloves, peeling them off with a deliberate precision that bespoke his simmering wrath. He straightened each finger, each gesture methodical, before slapping the gloves across Eisen’s face, satisfaction blooming within him as he noted the three pink scars Y/N had left on the viscount’s cheek.
Eisen let out a sick, hysterical bark of laughter. “You’re challenging me, then?”
Seokjin remained a statue, unyielding.
“What’s it to be? Another bout of fisticuffs at Jackson’s? I assure you, I won’t spare your pretty face like the Y/L/N lad did.”
“Pistols, tomorrow at dawn. Who is your second?”
Eisen narrowed his eyes, scanning the growing crowd in the club with a predator’s focus. “Lord Alec Winters,” he replied, a cold gleam dancing in his gaze.
“Lord Halston will be in contact with him to determine the field of honor. Good day.”
As they mounted their horses, Lord Whitmore turned to Seokjin, his expression grave and weighted with concern. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
“What’s done is done,” Seokjin replied, each word heavy with the inevitability of consequence. “I cannot recall the challenge without appearing a coward.”
“Very well, my lord. I shall stand at your side with Halston.”
Seokjin spent the rest of the day cloistered in his study, though hiding would be a more accurate term. Y/N was noticeably absent when he returned home after issuing his challenge. The butler had handed him a note stating that his wife was spending the day with her particular friends, Ladies Jeon and Jung, but it made no mention of when she would return.
He ate his meal alone, the silence in the room amplifying the thrum of his thoughts, before returning once more to the sanctuary of his study. After pouring himself a generous glass of port, he opened the case that held his dueling pistols. He examined the moving parts, ensuring everything was in proper working order, the metallic tang of the weapons grounding him amidst the swirling chaos in his mind.
It was well after dark when he heard her voice echo through the foyer. “Is Lord Rushmore's at home?” she asked, her tone light but edged with something he couldn’t quite decipher.
“Yes, my lady. He is in the study,” came the butler’s formal reply.
“Thank you, Forbes. That will be all.”
Before he could consider the implications of the pistols laid out on his desk, she appeared in the doorway, her presence a sharp contrast to the darkness of the room.
“Seokjin, I just wanted to…” Her voice faded as her gaze fell on the dueling pistols, an expressionless veneer sliding over her features like a heavy curtain. “I just wanted to let you know I was home.”
“Y/N…”
“Goodnight, Seokjin.”
Her words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, as she turned and left, the door closing behind her with a finality that echoed like a gunshot in the night.
She couldn’t sleep a wink. The moment she’d spotted the gleaming pistols on Seokjin’s desk, nausea twisted in her stomach like a coiled snake. All night, she lay in the dark, listening for any sound from his bedchamber, but there was nothing. The silence stretched, oppressive and thick, until her unease multiplied, leaving her trembling, a leaf caught in an unforgiving wind.
In the pre-dawn darkness, she lit a single candle, its flickering flame casting long shadows as she made her way to the kitchen, seeking a biscuit or something to settle her roiling stomach. But as she crept into the dimly lit space, her heart plummeted when she overheard Forbes speaking to Mrs. Cope, the housekeeper.
“He’s goin’ through with that bloody duel?” Mrs. Cope’s voice dripped with concern, thick as treacle.
“It would seem so,” Forbes replied, his tone grave.
“The poor girl,” Mrs. Cope continued, her voice low, “she was so out of sorts yesterday, and just when I thought they were beginnin’ to warm up to each other…”
Madness. Absolute madness. How could she sit idly by, waiting for news that might shatter her world, wondering if her husband lay dead in a field of honor? Clearing her throat, she startled the two servants. “Forbes, please have a footman saddle my horse.”
His eyebrows raised slightly, but he schooled his features, nodding with a single, curt motion.
“And when you’re done with him, bring him here and I’ll box his ears,” Mrs. Cope added with a wink, a twinkle of mischief in her eye.
Y/N knew the housekeeper had cared for Seokjin since he was a lad of seventeen, just stepping into the world as an Earl after his father’s death. She’d watched Mrs. Cope fuss over him like a second mother, a bond forged in years of loyalty and affection.
“You can count on it, to be sure, Mrs. Cope,” Y/N promised, her resolve hardening.
She rushed back to her chamber, dressing in her riding habit without a moment’s thought for her maid. Tying her hair into a simple queue, she ignored the elaborate hats hanging in her dressing room, knowing they would do little to comfort her.
Forbes held the door open, and as she passed, he murmured, “Hyde Park, just north of the Serpentine.”
“Thank you, Forbes,” she replied, determination coursing through her veins.
The groom helped her into the side-saddle, and she urged her horse into a slow trot until she found her seat. Then she pressed the beast into a gallop, the wind whipping around her face as the world blurred by. The gray mist of foreboding cloaked the park, but she pressed on toward the bridge, morning light peeking over the horizon, the air crisp and biting.
As she crossed the bridge, her heart raced at the sight of a gathering of gentlemen, tension crackling in the air. Two men stood poised to fire, and she could faintly hear Lord Halston calling out, “Ready. Aim. Fire!”
Time slowed as she careened toward the group, her voice piercing the morning hush. “NO!” But it was too late; the shots rang out, echoing in her ears like the toll of a death knell.
She leapt from her horse, barreling through the crowd of men, her heart pounding like a war drum. “Seokjin!” she called, desperation clawing at her throat as she broke through the front line. Lord Eisen stood to her left, his pistol still raised, confusion painted across his face. To her right, she saw Seokjin, his arm raised to the sky, expression a tempest of fury and concern.
“I am satisfied,” he declared, his voice steady despite the chaos, “Let it be known that Lord Eisen is a debaucher of innocence and a dishonorable blackguard.” He lowered his pistol, striding toward her with purpose.
But before he could reach her, another gunshot shattered the stillness, a sharp crack in the fragile morning. Horror twisted in her gut as Seokjin howled in pain, crumpling to the ground, blood blooming like dark petals through the fabric of his breeches. Disapproving murmurs erupted from the gathered crowd, a cacophony of gasps and curses directed at Lord Eisen.
Her focus narrowed to Seokjin, writhing on the ground as blood seeped from his wound. She fell to her knees, hands trembling as they fluttered over his injured leg.
“Stay back, Y/N, this is no place for you,” he gritted out, his voice strained with pain. “Park, take her back home.”
“No. I’m not leaving. I can help.”
“Dammit, woman, why will you not do as I say?”
“Because I love you!” she shouted, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. “And I won’t leave your side.” She cupped his sweat-dampened cheek, searching his eyes for any sign of hope. “Lord Whitmore, is there a physician present?” she asked, desperation lacing her voice, unwilling to tear her gaze from Seokjin.
“Here, my lady. I’ll just see to binding the wound,” a gray-haired gentleman replied, a black satchel slung over his shoulder.
Seokjin threw his head back on the grass, a roar of agony ripping from his throat. “Be quick about it. I’m not sure how much longer I can remain conscious!”
Once the physician bound his leg, Park and Halston helped Seokjin into the doctor’s carriage, then Park handed Y/N inside, her heart hammering with fear as they made their way home, Seokjin’s head resting on her lap, his warmth a fragile reminder of life.
When they arrived at Kim House, Halston administered copious amounts of brandy until Seokjin was thoroughly foxed, the alcohol dulling the edges of his pain.
The doctor worked efficiently, extracting the bullet with practiced hands, though he was the recipient of a lengthy string of vitriol from the Earl. “Curse you, Eisen!” Seokjin spat, his voice thick with indignation. The doctor promised to return the following day to check the dressing and promptly exited the room.
Y/N remained at Seokjin’s side, mopping his forehead with a cool cloth, his features a pale shadow of their usual vigor. He was insensible from both the liquor and the laudanum, yet he managed to crack his eyes open, a flicker of recognition igniting within.
“Did you mean it?” he asked, voice slurred yet filled with an urgency that made her heart leap.
“Why was your pistol raised when I arrived?” She couldn’t help but question, a mix of fear and frustration welling within her.
“I shot into the air,” he scowled, eyes narrowing. “The cur wasn’t worth even a single bullet.” He paused, searching her gaze with an intensity that made her breath hitch. “Did you mean what you said? That you love me?”
“Yes, you ridiculously honorable man. I love you,” she confessed, her heart swelling with the truth of her words.
“As I love you,” he replied, his voice softer, a gentle lullaby beneath the tumult of the day. “’Tis why I had to confront him the way I did.” His words were heavy with sleep, yet fervent as though each syllable was an anchor in the storm.
“Well, you’re going to have to come up with a different way of expressing it. I don’t think I could bear to see you… For a moment, I thought you were dead.” The weight of those words pressed down on her, a chill creeping through her veins.
“I shall never leave your side again, my love.” His voice softened, eyes fluttering closed, his breathing slowing like the ebb of the tide.
For a heartbeat, she thought he had finally succumbed to sleep, but then she felt the gentle pressure of his hand around hers, a tether that bound them even amidst the shadows, a promise whispered in the dark.
"I fear I shall be a useless husband for the next several weeks until the wound is well on its way to healing." Seokjin's gaze pierced through her, an intensity lurking behind his words that took her a moment to grasp.
A rush of crimson crept up her neck, and she quickly averted her gaze. “Don’t be vulgar. It is far too early in the morning for such talk.”
"I will require a great deal of nursing and special care, you know." His voice was a teasing whisper, laced with something more primal that made her heart race.
"Yes, the doctor explained what would need to be done. I shall take extra special care of you, my lord," she replied, tracing a delicate finger over the smattering of hair on his chest, the softness of the moment shattered by the storm brewing beneath the surface.
"Vixen," he murmured, eyes fluttering shut, a smile playing on his lips. "These next weeks will be torture."
"I do hope so," she shot back, her tone teasing but edged with sincerity. "Perhaps next time you won’t be so quick to engage in something as foolish as this."
She leaned in, pressing her lips to his, the kiss igniting a warmth that spread through them both. Seokjin’s hand found the back of her neck, holding her gently in place as he feasted on her mouth, nibbling and sucking, each sigh from him a reminder of the thin line between pleasure and pain.
With a soft thud, his head dropped back onto the pillow, and he looked deeply into her eyes. “When my leg has healed, the first order of business will be to see to the matter of an heir for the Earldom.”
“Agreed,” she whispered, lying down next to him on the bed for the first time, a sense of gravity settling over them.
Meanwhile, Lord Rushmore stood with his hands casually clasped behind his back, watching a stable boy lead a striking pair of chestnut horses around the yard at Tattersalls. He had no real intention of acquiring any new horseflesh; he had simply agreed to meet Lords Park and Halston there, his mind elsewhere, adrift in thoughts of a summer retreat at Willow Hill, his country estate.
It had been an arduous month, the wound inflicted by Lord Eisen a constant reminder of his vulnerability. Kim hated being an invalid, but Y/N’s determined care was a salve to his wounded pride, particularly when she offered to help him bathe. Yet now, as he was finally cleared to bear weight on his injured leg, her shyness returned, casting a pall over the intimacy they had shared.
“Kim!” Namjoon’s voice cut through his reverie, yanking him back to the present.
“How goes it, Halston?” Seokjin asked, forcing a smile.
“Well, very well. And how does the livestock look?” Namjoon’s tone was light, masking the concern lurking just beneath.
Seokjin circled the courtyard, moving smoothly as Namjoon trailed slowly behind.
“Still walking like you’ve got a dry stick in your boot instead of a leg, I see?” Lord Whitmore called from behind, his friendly jab punctuating the air.
Seokjin turned, a rueful grin tugging at his lips. He had long since stopped limping, yet the familiar teasing felt like a balm, a reminder of their shared camaraderie.
Jimin stepped up beside Seokjin, tilting his head slightly. “They’re preparing the gallows at Newgate,” he said, his voice low, the gravity of his words palpable.
“I see,” Seokjin replied, his brow furrowing. “And has your Bow Street source heard anything that would be of particular interest to me?”
Jimin shook his head, frustration evident. “He wasn’t able to get a look at the list of condemned.”
“After shooting you in the leg and then strangling his new bride to death, it would serve him right to dance upon nothing. I shudder when I think of the reports that were given as to her physical condition before death. The man is a monster.” Namjoon’s voice grew impassioned, his anger simmering just below the surface. He despised violence against women, a sentiment that burned hotter with each word. “If I had the chance, I’d dispatch Eisen with my bare hands.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Seokjin replied, the heat of righteous indignation flaring in his chest. “Though I must admit, it would take Herculean effort to prevent a towering rage from overcoming me if I were to find Y/N with another man—and in the very act, no less.”
Namjoon opened his mouth to protest, but Seokjin raised a hand. “No, friend, I understand. Her dalliance certainly did not merit her death. If Eisen is to be hanged, he has certainly earned his fate.”
The three stood in a tense silence as the auctioneer began the bidding on a black thoroughbred racehorse, the tension in the air palpable.
“Halston, are you bidding today?” Jimin asked, his voice light, yet curiosity tinged his tone.
Namjoon’s brows pinched together, shaking his head. “No, I haven’t seen anything that strikes my fancy.”
“Shall we be off to Park’s, then?” Jimin’s brow rose expectantly, glancing between Namjoon and Seokjin.
“Not for me, lads. I must see to a few last-minute preparations before we leave for Willow Hill.”
They strolled a short distance away from Tattersalls, where Seokjin’s coach awaited.
“We shall join you in a week’s time,” Namjoon said, a promise hanging in the air.
“I look forward to a few weeks in the country,” Seokjin replied, a smile creeping onto his lips despite the heavy weight of recent events. “Though I daresay this house party will be quite different from those of past years, with Lady Rushmore now leading you about by the nose.” Jimin chuckled, nudging Namjoon with his elbow, their shared mirth a small reprieve from the shadows of their reality. They exchanged a pitying glance with Seokjin, who merely smiled, shaking his head, caught in the bittersweet nature of love, loss, and the unbearable weight of impending fate.
"I'll have you know that in addition to her Mama and Papa, Lady Rushmore has also invited the Jeons and the Jungs. I would not doubt she has matchmaking on the mind." The words tumbled from Seokjin’s mouth, heavy with implication, each syllable dripping with the kind of mischief that hangs thick in the air before a storm.
Jimin scoffed, shaking his head. "The day I fall into a parson's mousetrap, as you did, is the day I shall kick the bucket from under my own feet and take a short drop."
"Ah, my dear Park, there are a great many advantages to having a wife," Seokjin replied, climbing into the carriage, the sound of his voice echoing like a warning bell against the backdrop of laughter and banter.
"Does that mean you're no longer living the life of a monk?" Jimin called after him, his words laced with a teasing edge. As Seokjin gave two swift raps to the roof of the carriage, the laughter of his friends faded, oblivious to the rich tapestry of pleasure that a loving wife waiting at home could weave into a man's life.
The scene that greeted Seokjin upon his arrival home was chaos incarnate. Maids bustled about like frantic bees, arms laden with linens and other household goods, while footmen heaved large trunks and portmanteaus down the stairs, the very air vibrating with urgency.
He nodded as he passed various servants, each one bobbing curtsies or bowing stiffly before resuming their frenetic tasks. But as he reached the top of the stairs, a familiar voice cut through the cacophony—Y/N, directing her maid with a calm authority that belied the frenzy around her.
"I'm afraid I'll need the basin with me inside the coach. Heaven help me if I should cast up my crumpets during the journey. Lord Rushmore's has yet to witness such a distasteful episode. I fear I shall die of mortification if he were to witness such unpleasantness."
A flicker of irritation sparked within Seokjin at the thought of her hiding an illness from him, a dark cloud threatening to obscure his sunny disposition. He had every intention of chastising her for keeping silent about her health, but that resolve evaporated like morning mist when he rounded the corner into their bedroom.
There she was, bent over a valise, sorting through her chemises and nightdresses, a vision of domesticity that stole the breath from his lungs.
The maid was the first to notice him. He raised a finger to his lips and nodded toward the door, signaling his desire for privacy. She nodded once and slipped out, closing the door without so much as a whisper.
Seokjin moved across the room, his footsteps muffled by the plush woven rug beneath him, until he stood directly behind his still-leaning wife.
"Liza, have you already packed my tan kid glo—" He gripped her hips, pulling her backside against him, eliciting a shriek of surprise. When she spun around, he caught her in his arms, her wide eyes a mirror of astonishment.
"Hello, my love."
"Seokjin! How you startled me." She swatted her hand against his chest, but the smile creeping across her lips melted the tension from her flushed features, leaving only warmth in its wake.
"I am sorry for that, but I was loath to interrupt my view of your delightful figure."
He stroked his finger along her cheekbone, which bloomed with a telltale blush. She studied him as he trailed the same finger down her throat and around the back of her neck, delighting in the shivers that coursed through her at his touch. Leaning down, he followed the path with the tip of his nose, stopping momentarily to graze the tender flesh behind her ear with his lips.
"My lord," she whispered, and he felt the weight of that title hang between them like a breathless promise.
"Yes, my lady?"
He continued to kiss and nibble his way across her jaw and up to her lips, savoring the sweet aftertaste of honey that lingered from her tea. She responded with equal enthusiasm, suckling his lower lip and tilting her head for a better angle. After what felt like hours, she finally pulled away, gasping for breath.
"Seokjin, there is too much to do." She leaned away from him, perhaps expecting him to release her, but he tightened his grip around her waist, kissing her again, lost in the moment.
"We have a moment, do we not?" he murmured against her lips, the world outside fading into insignificance.
Suddenly, she stiffened in his arms, and he instinctively relaxed his hold. Her hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes widened with a dawning horror. He let her go as she rushed to the washstand, emptying the contents of her stomach into the basin.
With purposeful strides, he crossed the room and laid a gentle hand on her back, offering comfort as she heaved, the sound echoing in the quiet of the room. When she was finished, he extended his handkerchief and waited, heart pounding in his chest.
She shuffled to the tea tray, returning to the basin with a cup full of lukewarm tea. Swishing mouthfuls and spitting them back into the basin, she did her best to maintain some semblance of delicacy, but her weariness was palpable.
When she finally turned to face him, the rosy flush had drained from her cheeks, replaced by an ashen pallor that sent a chill through him. How long had she been hiding her illness?
"Must you look at me with such pity?" she asked, setting the teacup down and twisting her hands together, a nervous habit that made his heart ache.
"My sweet, how long have you felt ill? We can postpone our departure until you are well. Everyone coming to Willow Hill will understand." He reached out to caress her cheek, but she turned away from his touch, brushing past him like a ghost.
He watched, concern knitting his brow, as she paced the room, muttering under her breath, a whirlwind of anxiety. Finally, she cast herself onto the bed, curling into a tight ball, tears spilling down her cheeks.
Seokjin was taken aback, concern spiraling into panic at the sudden shift in her demeanor. Every instinct screamed at him to rush to her side, but he remained frozen, captivated by the raw vulnerability laid bare before him.
As if pulled by an unseen string, she sat up, wiping her eyes before their gazes connected, and he felt propelled into action.
He hurriedly knelt in front of her, grasping her hands in his. "What is wrong, Y/N?"
"I did not… It was supposed to be… Oh botheration. I must look a fright." She dabbed the handkerchief at the corners of her eyes, a picture of fragility.
"Should I summon the doctor?" he asked, dread pooling in his stomach at the thought of his wife being gravely ill.
The lines of worry etched on her face began to soften, replaced by a look of adoration that made his heart race.
"I have already seen the doctor."
"And what is his diagnosis?" Seokjin’s heart plummeted, a darkness settling over him at the very thought of her suffering.
She wriggled one of her hands free from his grasp—he hadn’t realized he was squeezing her so tightly—and cupped the side of his face with a tenderness that caught him off guard. “I’m afraid you were quite successful in your quest for an heir,” she said, her voice trembling like a leaf in a storm.
His brow furrowed as the meaning of her words sunk in, slowly creeping through the fog of his mind like a dark shadow. “Do you mean… I say! Are you—” He sprang to his feet, a surge of exhilaration propelling him to nearly drag Y/N off the bed in his excitement.
“I am increasing, and it is all your fault, you insufferable man! I don’t feel the least bit well, and of course, there’s nothing to be done for it but nibble dry toast when the nausea strikes.” Her voice had a sharp edge to it, yet there was a sparkle in her eyes that ignited something primal within him.
Dropping to his knees, he surrounded her with his arms, resting his head gently against her still-flat abdomen. The thought “I am going to be a father” echoed in his mind, a mantra that swelled until it overwhelmed him like a tidal wave.
Y/N threaded her fingers through his hair, massaging soothing circles on his scalp, murmuring sweet nothings that drifted like whispers in the night until, finally, she grasped his chin and gently lifted him to his feet. “I wanted to tell you at Willow Hill. The doctor confirmed the pregnancy only this morning.”
“When will it be here?” he asked, his heart pounding like a drum echoing through an empty hall.
“He shall be born in early February.”
He smirked, a wild gleam igniting in his eyes as he led her back to the bed. With a tenderness that seemed to transcend reality, he cradled her in his arms. “You are sure, then, that I have produced an heir for the title of Lord Rushmore’s?” His voice danced with mischief.
“Of course. It is my greatest wish that the lineage for the earldom be secured, but…”
“But what, my darling?”
“What if it is a girl?”
“It gives us all the more reason to practice the arduous task of producing a male heir.” He kissed her soundly as he laid her on the bed, hovering protectively over her, his body a fortress against the world.
“There are still so many things to prepare, Seokjin.”
“Hush, my dear. Let the housekeeper do her job. The world will not fall apart if we steal a few moments of quiet together.”
She pressed herself into his side, and in that fleeting moment, as if they had stolen a slice of eternity, he felt her body relax, her breaths evening into those of a slumbering angel, wrapped in the cocoon of their shared warmth.
The next morning unfolded like a symphony of chaos as the coaches were readied for the departure of the Earl of Rushmore’s household. When Forbes gave the word, Seokjin tucked Y/N’s hand in the crook of his elbow and led her to the carriage. Once she was settled, he followed her in, sitting close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin. His gaze flicked nervously to the basin opposite them, stacked with lavender-scented handkerchiefs and towels. He hoped her sickness wouldn’t turn their journey into a nightmare.
The carriage lurched into motion, rattling off through the streets of London, bound for the quieter Hampshire countryside. The sun barely peeked over the rooftops, and the cool breeze whispered secrets through the open windows. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment of calm until Y/N spoke, shattering the fragile peace.
“Seokjin, why are we going in the wrong direction? This is not the road to Hampshire.”
He opened his eyes and sat up straighter, unease coiling in his stomach like a serpent. “I have a small matter of business I need to see to before we leave town.”
She frowned, her brow knitting together in concern. “I thought you took care of all your business yesterday.”
“Yes, well, one other matter came up.”
“I see.”
She shifted away from him, her attention drawn outside. His heart sank as he realized where they were headed. The closer they came to Newgate prison, the more agitated he became, as if an unseen force was tightening around his throat.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, glancing at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
“Do you not have a book or some kind of embroidery with which to occupy yourself?”
“I fear I would grow ill if I tried to read, and heaven forbid I should attempt any kind of needlecraft. I would most likely end up sticking myself and bleed to death.”
He sighed, defeated by her stubbornness. Minutes ticked by, and the rattling wheels on the cobblestone streets were replaced by the jeers of a growing mob gathering for the hangings.
“Seokjin, why is there such a crowd at this early hour?” Her voice was laced with dread, and he could feel her eyes boring into him, demanding answers he couldn’t provide.
He stood, head bent, shoulders rounded, and leaned over his legs to peer out his window. The prison loomed ahead, and the gallows stood like a grim sentinel against the morning sky.
As they approached, the carriage slowed, stopping some distance from the raised platform, yet they had a perfect view. When the gaoler stood and raised his arms, the crowd fell silent, anticipation crackling in the air like static before a storm.
As he read the names of the condemned and their crimes, a chill crept down Seokjin’s spine. One by one, the hooded figures were brought forth, the nooses cinched around their necks as the crowd hissed and jeered, throwing stones and objects at the prisoners.
“And last we have, Jonathon Bartlett, Viscount Eisen, condemned to hang by the neck until dead for the murder in cold blood of Louis Montford, Marquis of Calais.”
Y/N gasped, scrambling backward into her seat, her breath quickening as panic washed over her like a wave. She waved her hand in front of her face, but that same wide-eyed look of distress he had witnessed the day before seized her. She lunged forward, retching violently into the basin.
Once again, he handed her a clean square of toweling and waited, a heavy weight pressing down on his chest.
“I had heard of the scandal. Lady Min was quite thrilled to share the news with your mother. But… he is not condemned for the death of Lady Eisen?”
Seokjin shook his head, his heart pounding like a war drum. “No. Had he only killed her, he most likely would not be in this position. When he murdered the Marquis in front of his entire household, he sealed his fate.”
Though he glossed over the details for her benefit, the gruesome images of Lord Montford’s lifeless body, throat slit from ear to ear, lingered in his mind like a dark specter. It was damning, to say the least.
Seokjin peered out of the carriage window, the air thick with a tension that prickled at the nape of his neck. It was nearly time.
“Please, Seokjin,” Y/N’s voice quivered, raw with dread. “I can’t bear this. Let’s go.”
He nodded once, the sound of his heart thumping painfully in his chest. With a sharp rap on the carriage's wooden panel, the horses whinnied in response, and the vehicle lurched forward, rattling down the cobbled streets.
As they rounded the corner, the roar of the mob reached a crescendo, a grotesque symphony of triumph and bloodlust. It echoed in his ears, a haunting reminder of what awaited them. Y/N leaned heavily against him, her body trembling as she covered her face with shaking hands, bent double as if the weight of the world bore down on her fragile frame. For a moment, he feared she might be sick again.
After a silence that stretched like a taut wire, she slowly lifted her head, her eyes glistening. “I don’t understand why I’ve turned into a watering pot.”
“It’s the good and kind nature within you,” he murmured, though he felt the tremor in his own voice.
“It’s never good to revel in the death of one of God’s children, even if he was a very bad man.” She sniffled into her handkerchief, and gradually, the plush upholstery of the carriage seemed to embrace her weary form, pulling her back from the brink of despair.
“True. He was indeed a most depraved individual, but now we shall never have to worry about him again.”
“Do you think he really would have followed through on his threats against me?” She looked at him, eyes wide with fear.
“It’s hard to say for certain. But if his madness regarding his wife’s lover is any indication, I’m relieved to think you need not worry about his intentions any longer.”
28 February 1816
11:54 pm
“I swear to God himself, if I am not allowed to see my wife this instant, I shall break down the door!” Seokjin's voice reverberated through the upper halls of Willow Hill as he pounded on the door to their shared bedchamber, desperation clawing at him.
Y/N had been laboring for nearly twenty hours. The doctor had even consented to allow the local midwife to assist, though his reluctant agreement came with warnings laced with disapproval.
Just as Seokjin was about to start kicking the door, he heard the soft click of the lock. A frightened, doe-eyed maid opened the door, stepping aside just in time as he barreled past her into the room.
Y/N sat hunched over on a peculiar chair, sweat beading on her forehead and clinging to her hair. On either side of her stood their mothers, both wearing matching scowls, while Siobhan, the midwife, whispered instructions into Y/N’s ear, her voice thick and accented.
When Siobhan glanced up, her eyes sparkled with an unsettling gleam. Her hair was a wild halo of gray curls, and her face bore the deep lines of age, looking like an apple left too long in the orchard—wrinkled, desiccated.
“The babby is almost here,” she crooned, “but she be waitin’ fer her own special day. This'un is sure to be full o’ spirit.” Her words slurred together, but the meaning hung in the air, heavy and ripe.
“How do you know it’s a girl?” Y/N grunted, a fresh wave of pain coursing through her. “Ooooh, another…”
“Bear down and push, lovey. ’Tis almost done. Are ye ready to catch, doctor?”
“Hush, witch. I know how to bring a child into the world,” snapped the doctor, irritation coating his every word.
“Kim, come take my place,” Seokjin’s mother urged, but he hardly heard her over the pounding of his heart.
“We’ve only ever talked about names for a boy,” he murmured, glancing at the doctor’s bloodied hand reaching for a towel.
“Och, there he goes,” Siobhan said, her voice laced with disapproval, and that was the last thing Seokjin remembered before the world around him faded to black.
Everything became muffled, foggy, like he was submerged in deep water. He tried to reach for Y/N’s voice, but his limbs felt like lead, unresponsive.
Then, a sharp, acrid smell invaded his senses, burning his nostrils. His eyes shot open, heart racing as he scanned the room, confused and disoriented. He was on the floor of his chamber, the strange chair gone, the chaotic mess of moments before replaced by eerie calm. How long had he been unconscious?
A familiar wrinkled face appeared above him. “Ah, there ye be. ’Tis why we don’t let the papas in until after the wee ones are born.”
“Y/N!” he gasped, shaking off the haze. “Where is my wife?”
“I’m right here, my lord.”
He rose unsteadily, dread curling in his stomach, and turned slowly toward her voice. Y/N lay on the bed in a fresh, white nightdress, hair neatly plaited over one shoulder, and cradled in her arms was a tiny bundle wrapped in blankets, a serene infant nestled against her.
He stumbled forward, drawn by an unseen force, and perched next to her, awe washing over him. Siobhan’s departing words barely registered as he soaked in the sight of his wife and child.
“Y/N, my beautiful Y/N. How do you fare?” he whispered, his heart swelling.
A knowing smile danced on her lips. “You fainted, my lord.”
He felt the warmth of laughter bubbling just beneath the surface. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He remained silent, mesmerized by the tiny rosebud lips of their child. “I hope everyone has sworn an oath to take the events of this room to the grave.”
“Oh dear, I do believe we forgot to summon a magistrate for such proceedings.”
“Then I will assume the entire township, nay the whole of Hampshire, will know of my weak constitution by midday.” He sighed, resting his head on her shoulder, feeling the weight of the world lift just slightly. After a contemplative silence, he asked, “Was she right? Siobhan, I mean.”
“Does it matter?”
“You are alive. The child is alive. Of course it matters.”
He watched as Y/N’s fingers traced the soft strands of reddish-brown hair that crowned their daughter’s head. “She was right. You have a daughter, my love.”
“A girl,” he breathed, the word heavy with meaning. “Was she indeed born on the twenty-ninth?”
“Yes, she waited until it was two minutes past midnight. Siobhan was right on both counts. She wanted to have her own special day.”
The thought struck him like a chill in the night air—he would never survive having a daughter. Anxiety twisted in his chest, coiling around his heart until it clenched painfully with every beat.
Y/N must have sensed his turmoil, her gaze steady and soothing. “Please don’t give yourself an apoplexy thinking of suitors and her coming out. We have many, many years before that becomes an issue.”
“You know me too well, my sweet. But it changes nothing. I would go to the ends of the earth to protect my ladies’ honor.”
He extended his arms, lifting the stirring infant into his embrace. “What shall we call her?”
Y/N tucked the blankets around her legs, her smile illuminating the dim room. “I was thinking perhaps, Lady Caroline Marie Kim, in honor of your late father.”
“Perfect. My mother will be deeply touched.” He marveled at the strength of the little fist that curled around his finger. “She will need a brother to protect her. When shall we start working on that endeavor?”
Y/N arched an eyebrow and shook her head. “You may address that subject with me in three or four years’ time. Until then, do I need to cloister myself in a separate bedchamber?”
Seokjin’s grin took on a mischievous edge as he shook his head. “I don’t think I can bear to sleep without you, my love. I promise I will behave.”
But beneath the surface of their laughter, a dark shadow lingered—a reminder that the world outside could be as dangerous as it was beautiful. And it wouldn’t be until the twenty-ninth of February 1820, that a boy, the next Earl of Rushmore, would arrive.
NAMJOON’S BIRTHDAY COUNTDOWN:
27 DAYS TO 27 (with @kkulmoon ♡):
DAY 15: how to take care of your joonie 🌱: a guide by the hyung line ♡
[cr. qdeoks, c_a_leaf, moajmjk00]
Warnings: Yandere behavior, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.
A/N: If you like this, kindly consider reblogging
Masterlist, Part III of __
The drive back to the hospital was blurry to Seokjin. He reminded himself to give Yoongi a call, after all, he did break a lot of traffic rules and regulations just to arrive at the hospital to…why exactly? Why was he so adamant on driving back to the hospital in such a hurry? What was he to do once he saw the reason for his misery?
What exactly was he to do once he got to you? Once he saw you? And what if you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore?
He didn’t have to think long because there you were- smiling so sweetly at the hospital staff, your absence definitely felt not just by him. Everyone noted your absence. You were the sunshine of the hospital and when you left, he felt…unbelievably cold. Nothing was right in his world and he even found a pimple on his glorious forehead this morning! The audacity of such thing to grow on his otherwise lovely and godly face! All because he stayed up all night tossing and turning! It was all because of you that he wasn’t getting his beauty sleep!
He almost believed that he was really affected by your absence, and he wasn’t…was he???
“Oh, Doctor Kim! You’re back!”
He blinked when he heard his staff greeted him, her eyes holding confusion at his sudden appearance. Seokjin understood her, though. After all, he just left not more than an hour ago. He should be at home resting his beautiful face.
He watched as your back stiffened before slowly, and Gods, ever so slowly turned to him. For the life of him, he didn’t know why his breath hitched when you met his eyes. Or why his heart beat faster when he could finally see you. Or why his heart felt uncomfortable when you left.
Was he experiencing a minor myocardial infarction?!
And heavens, why did his cheeks feel a lot warmer when you smiled at him?! Did he now have to pay his dermatologist a visit?!
“Do you need anything, Doctor Kim?” his staff asked him to break the silence when enough moment had passed and yet, the hospital’s director was merely looking at you.
Kim Seokjin finally blinked, wrenching his eyes from your beautiful ones. Your eyes seemed so soulful. He didn’t know why there was a sudden fluttering in his heart, and he did not care to know why at the moment. Instead, he cleared his throat, his gaze briefly dropping on the table of his staff. “I…left my pen.”
“Your pen,” you repeated with a heavy tone of confusion and disbelief.
And there it was, your first words to him after your week-long absence. He was such an idiot, he thought. In his beautiful life, he never thought he would be reduced to calling himself an idiot when he was brilliant! He was always the top in his classes! He was always quoted in the medical research for his intelligence! He was so clever and for the life of him, he didn’t know why he blurted out that sorry excuse.
But there was no way to get himself out of the hole he dug. “Yup. And look, there it is!” he leaned in to grab the pink and glittery hello kitty pen from the staff’s table. “It has sentimental value,” he murmured as though it was all it took to explain the bizarreness of his presence. “I don’t feel comfortable being without it.”
His staff frowned, her mouth opening to protest. “Sir, that’s my daughter’s-”
“Anyway, now that my presence is perfectly explained,” he quipped up and effectively cutting of his staff, he clapped his hand once before turning his full attention on you, completely ignoring the other person. “Where have you been?”
“I’m sorry?” your head tilted at what you heard. Did you hear him right? Never once did he ask you anything, so why start now?
You looked up at his expressive eyes, his plump lips hanging agape as he grappled for words to explain his unusual question. “I-I mean, the hospital is so understaffed and as the chief, it is my responsibility to make sure that this institution runs smoothly. After all, lives depend on us.”
“Sir, my leave was approved by my direct superior,” you said, trying to reason calmly at him.
“But still, one week is still too long. Next time, don’t be gone for a whole week,” he replied back with an air of finality that you definitely did not appreciate. In your barely restrained annoyance, you walked ahead and pushed the elevator button a little too hard before turning to him. You took a deep breath as he only looked down at you, the ridiculous hello kitty pen still clutched in his hand.
“Doctor Kim,” you started with an emphasis to his title. “I’ve only ever been gone one week a year. One. I work even when I’m sick, I attend to my patients even when it’s holiday, even when it’s my birthday, even during the death anniversary of my parents, or even when I’m not scheduled to be at the hospital. Never once did I careless about any of my patients. So please, don’t make it seem like I don’t care.”
“That’s not what I meant-“
“But that’s what you’re implying, Sir,” you snapped back, locking eyes with him, a resolute expression on your face. He didn’t like it, he realized later on. He had grown accustomed to your soft gaze, accustomed to your face lighting up when you looked at him. And now that you were looking at him with the absence of what he was used to, it didn’t sit right with him.
Kim Seokjin would later on realized that he had always ever wanted you to look at him like that, with that undeniable focus and intensity, solely for him.
You averted your gaze away from his as soon as the elevator bell chimed. You were resolute on entering the elevator and getting away from his vicinity when it opened, revealing a patient along with several nurses and doctors bustling to exit and you were on the verge of being caught in the commotion. You were about to get hit when Seokjin encircled your wrist, swiftly pulling you away from the oncoming gurney pushed by the rushing nurses. His hold on your wrist was firm and your brows inevitably pulled together, a flash of pain passing through your face.
None of that went unnoticed by Seokjin.
Seokjin frowned, his eyes trained on your wrist covered by your white coat while you were watching as they hurried to the operating room. He knew he didn’t pull that hard, too aware of his own strength and too unaware of his desire to never hurt you. You didn’t even feel when he pulled up your sleeve. He did it so softly, a glaring proof how terrified he was of further bringing pain on you, regardless of how he never meant to.
And there they were.
Several bruises of varying intensity marked your beautiful skin. Scattered on your forearms were day-old scrapes that looked like they had started healing after causing you pain.
Seokjin's heart clenched with a mix of remorse and an anger that surged within him, fierce and unbridled.
You finally noticed him when the nurses passed, the gentle way he was holding you was too contrast on how hard his jaw was clenched, his face almost impassive as he glared down at your scrapes and bruises as though they offended him. Your eyes widened as your injuries were exposed to his eyes that you pulled your arm away from his grasp. A silent acknowledgment passed between you, recognizing that he had allowed the release only because his grip had been secure.
“I-I have to go, Doctor Kim,” you couldn’t even meet his eyes as you bade him goodbye. His intensity, a stark departure from his usual demeanor of avoidance, left you unsettled. The memory of his comical attempt to escape you in the hospital lobby flashed in your mind, highlighting the irony of the current situation.
Literally.
He ran away from you once in the hospital lobby and there were several witnesses as the Chief ran as though there was an emergency.
You were about to enter the elevator when he spoke, his voice emotionless, his eyes bore into you with an unsettling coldness. And you could have sworn right then and there that he was an entirely different person that day.
“Who did this to you?”
The question hung in the air, laden with an ominous weight. In that moment, the stark transformation in Seokjin left you grappling with the realization that beneath the goofy and childlike facade you had come to know, there existed a man capable of chilling intensity and a protective instinct that seemed poised to unravel a hidden side of him you had never witnessed before.
You averted your eyes before letting out an awkward chuckle, hyperaware of the eyes on the two of you. “Don’t worry about them.”
It was apparent that that was not good enough explanation for him and you found yourself gulping from the force of his eyes that you were left no choice but to supplement your explanation. The words tumbled out in a hurried confession, “I was cleaning my house, lifting those boxes when I missed my step and fell down the stairs, okay?”
For a moment, Seokjin blinked, and in that subtle shift, the cold intensity dissipated, replaced by a flicker of understanding. There it was—the familiar Seokjin, the one you knew. The tension in the air lifted, and as his features softened, you couldn't help but marvel at the duality that existed within him.
He let out a soft sigh, before taking your wrist in his hand. He looked down at the bruises with heaviness and a touch of sadness in his eyes, his thumb softly running back and forth on them as though he could sooth them.
As though he could take the pain away and make it his own. And in that very moment, Seokjin knew that that was what he wanted- and that strangely, he never wanted to see you in pain. Without a word and uncaring of anyone that was looking at the two of you, he pulled you to his office.
---
“This is really unnecessary, Doc,” you winced as he gently put cream on your healing wounds, his face that of concentration as he sat in front of you.
You found yourself in an uncharted territory. You had never been this close to him knowing full well hat your attraction to him was one-sided. While it was fun for you to chase him around the hospital, you knew there could be nothing more to it. The line between lighthearted pursuit and genuine emotion was a boundary you were careful not to cross. There could be nothing more to it, you reasoned, convinced that your damaged self wasn't fit to be with someone as seemingly perfect as he was.
You knew where you stood.
“Y/N,” he spoke with a kind voice, his eyes still trained on his task. “Can I ask a favor from you?”
“Of course!”
It took a moment for him to answer, and he only did once he deemed his task complete and flawless. Gently, he reached for your sleeves, pulling them down with a delicate touch. His beautiful eyes met yours, a sincerity in his gaze that tugged at the edges of your guarded heart. “Can you please not get hurt anymore?”
The simple plea hung in the air, laced with a genuine concern that touched the depths of your soul. In that moment, the walls you had carefully constructed around your emotions quivered. His earnest request left you grappling with the realization that, perhaps, the line you had drawn between you and Seokjin wasn't as rigid as you had thought.
You wanted to cry, you thought. No one had ever cared if you got hurt. Not once. And here stood the perfect angel you perceived him to be, asking you to not be hurt anymore.
And so, for the first time, you lied to him.
You flashed him a faux smile, fronting your, nodding your head as you said, “I promise, Doctor. Wouldn’t want to disappoint the most handsome man in this hospital.”
His blush was definitely worth it, though.
---
“What are you even doing here?!” Kim Seokjin finally had it here and shouted as he heard Jungkook sighed so loudly again for the twelfth time and he could no longer focused on the research paper he was reading! He was even sure that his secretary outside could hear him behind the wall.
This was such a waste of time, he thought. Their golden maknae was wasting his time when he should have been done with this an hour ago.
“I’m just existing here, hyung. Go back to your work,” he mumbled from his position faced-down on the couch.
“You’re existing so loudly!”
Jungkook suddenly sat up, turning to face his hyung with an indignant expression, “Ah, so when you were the one pestering me in my office, it’s okay? But when it’s me, it’s not?!”
Seokjin responded with a smirk, a touch of mischief in his eyes. "Exactly!"
“How does that make sense! That is hypocritical and I’m going to sue you!”
“Dibs on Namjoon as my lawyer!”
“You can’t just call dibs!”
“I just did!”
“Well, Namjoon hyung likes me more!”
“Are you sure?! Or it’s you that like him more?!”
“You-“
Their banter was abruptly interrupted by a knock on the door. Both heads turned towards the entrance, watching as the door slowly opened, revealing you. Your eyes shifted between the two handsome men, assessing the situation that seemed like a mid-battle exchange.
“Am I interrupting?”
Seokjin's demeanor shifted almost imperceptibly, a master at maintaining composure. He flashed you a reassuring smile, only to shoot Jungkook a discreet glare when your attention was diverted.
“No. Everything is good,” Seokjin affirmed, keeping his smile intact while subtly warning Jungkook with his eyes. The unspoken tension lingered in the air, leaving you to wonder if you had just stumbled into the aftermath of a friendly dispute or something more significant. “Do you need anything?”
You blinked before showing him the form you needed him to sign. He smiled as he gestured for you to come in. He was looking over the form as Jungkook observed you.
It was you, he noted. He was sure it was you that was making his hyung lose his mind little by little. His mischievous side won and he stood up, walking to you with his hand outstretched.
“Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Jeon Jungkook, his little brother,” he introduced himself. You shook his hand once, smiling at the polite and charming man.
“I’m Doctor Y/N, nice to meet you.”
And then out of nowhere, Jungkook said the most absurd lie Seokjin ever heard him say. “It’s my birthday today. Eat dinner with us?”
“Jeon Jungkook!”
---
You and Seokjin walked behind Jungkook as he skipped merrily to one of his favorite restaurants, the streetside stall that he passionately swore served the best grilled pork. The randomness of the situation left you questioning how you ended up here, but it was undeniable that saying no to Jungkook and his enchanting doe eyes was practically impossible.
“You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to,” Seokjin mentioned casually beside you. His hands were in his slacks, his eyes trained ahead. He was matching your steps, your surmised.
“Do you not want me to be here?” you asked in that small moment of courage. You looked on the other side, your heart skipping a beat from the anticipation of his answer as you watched the flow of traffic. Silence reigned for so long that you were sure he wasn’t going to answer, or if he was, you were sure that he was going to gently turn you down once again.
You were waiting for the blunt from his kind rejection, yet this time, it didn’t come. The air remained pregnant with unspoken words, and for a moment, you were suspended in the quiet tension until he said something that made you fall for him just a little bit deeper.
“I want you here.”
The shocked from his words left you reeling that you stopped walking altogether just to stare at his broad back. He hadn’t noticed yet that you stopped walking until he was few steps ahead of you. He frowned before turning back to look at you.
And that moment, a genuine smile spread across your face as you noticed telltale hint of red on his ears. The man couldn’t even meet your eyes, instead, his simple admission reduced him to blushing man that shuffled from foot to foot.
Uh oh.
You were in big trouble.
You were surely and slowly falling for Kim Seokjin. And this time, it was beyond a harmless crush.
Warnings: Yandere behavior, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.
A/N: heheheheheee
Masterlist, Part II of __
Kim Seokjin blinked owlishly as you run past him in a hurry with your white coat hanging on your arm and the sound of your heels hitting the floor before completely skidding to a stop. It was already late in the evening and you still had energy to run in the hospital lobby. Seokjin was starting to wonder what you were fed as a child to be this vibrant. Additionally, though, he was now starting to think what he fed Jungkook as a child for him to be as energetic as you.
“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I run again?” you asked with a teasing smile on your face, your breaths huffing. You saw the most handsome man walked confidently across the lobby, his hand clutching his briefcase and you knew he was done for the day. That was the moment you ran from the second floor to the ground floor just to annoy your crush. You were too busy today with your patients and papers that you had no time to go to his office and bat your eyelashes at him.
It was entertaining to watch his cheeks and ears reddened whenever he saw you doing that, or whenever you verbally appreciated his beauty. You thought he was embarrassed for you and you found it immensely charming. In fact, flirting with him was the highlight of your day and you always made sure to see him on a daily basis which you noted was difficult.
Sometimes, Kim Seokjin was nowhere to be found for days. You wondered where he went whenever he disappeared. On days after he was gone, he seemed to be more tolerant of your teasing quips. On days after he returned, you could have sworn he looked at you a little bit fondly for a second and then it was gone.
“This is not the first time I saw you, Doctor Y/N,” he replied calmly, his hand in his pocket as he rested his eyes on yours.
“Yes, but I’m running out of pickup lines to use. I still need conduct further research,” you tilted your head to the side as you looked up at the tall man. “When are you even going to ask me out, Doctor Kim?”
“W-what?”
“I mean, you better hurry up or else someone might snatch me up. My mother did say that I’m the most beautiful girl in the world and I am known for being a good girl and believing every word my mother said.”
His brows furrowed at the thought of someone snatching you away from his grasp. But, you weren’t his, right? He had no hold over you, right? So why did that leave a sour taste on his mouth? Why then did he fist his hands so tight he almost felt pain knowing that he had long couldn’t?
You had no idea of the darkness that was clouding his mind and instead, you smiled sweetly at him before waving him goodbye, satisfied that you once again managed to render the smartest man in this hospital speechless and blushing profusely. That was an achievement, you giggled.
But then you turned to look at him again, your hand touching your lips and then dramatically pointing it to him. That was all it took to get him out of the darkness that was caging him once again. The mafia prince didn’t know what to make of the power you had over his darkness, a darkness that he spent a good decade reigning in.
You tapped your knuckles against his office door twice before opening the door. Kim Seokjin was the image of focus as he stared intensely at his laptop, his brows slightly furrowed with his glasses resting on his aristocrat nose. He looked up when he heard the sound of several tupperwares hitting his table.
“Eomeoni said that she courted appa by cooking and bringing him meals everyday in his office,” you started conversationally as you opened the lids. Seokjin was helpless as soon as the aromatic smell reached him that his own stomach decided to betray him and communicate how empty it was.
He coughed to cover his embarrassment, “Your mother courted your father?”
“Yes. Her method was effective, though,” you grinned at him as you placed the chopsticks in front of him. You sat in front of him before starting to eat. “She also did say to follow my dreams, so here I am.”
You met his eyes before winking at him. Seokjin’s face radiated with a warm, pinkish blush which happened to be a true testament to his extremely flustered state that only you could bring out of him. And you staring at him like that was not helping him at all.
His hands shook as his mind went to the default setting: to push you away.
“I have patients coming in…”
You blinked owlishly at him before looking down at your wristwatch. “It’s 5:47 am. Check-ups starts at 7:00 am. We have time.”
“I-I don’t eat.”
The silence was loud as you processed what he just said, and you knew what an ‘I don’t want to spend time with you’ looked like. You nodded your head before standing up. “Okay.”
You stopped yourself from showing your disappointment. You brought your chopsticks down before wordlessly closing the lids on the meals your prepared at an ungodly hour. You returned them all in the paper bag before bowing at him and leaving. He watched it all as you refused to meet his eyes for the first time since you met him.
He groaned when you closed the door, and he was once again left with the silence he was used to. He rested his head on his hands in frustration. What was wrong with him, he thought. He didn’t eat? What was he, a fucking vampire? Yes, he had a clear and fair skin, and yes, he looked like he was not aging. And of course, his beauty was out of this world. But he was just beautiful! What could he do? Should he blame his mother that used to be a top model for his good genes?
Or should he blame his already system that was already beyond repair even before you came into his life?
Kim Seokjin eyes kept on shifting to the door and then back to his screen for a moment. However, it was as though he was powerless from looking back to the door again. The presentation that they deemed to be important was merely a white noise to him, even as the doctors kept on looking at him for approval. They found none as his face remained impassive.
He looked down on his phone, and even your usual good morning was not there and he loathed it. Granted that he never replied, but he still kept the messages. It brought him something akin to warmth in his chest when he received your messages on his phone. Reading your adorable messages was the highlight of his morning. But now, his phone was unusually quiet and you were nowhere to be found. It displaced him. It vexed him. And it confused him. Seokjin glared at the emptiness of your chair with such disgust and irritation that the presenter gulped from the darkness that crossed his face. They all wanted to please him, not only was he in the highest position but he was also the major stockholder of the hospital.
Suffice to say, Kim Seokjin was the most powerful man in the hospital. Unbeknownst to them though, his power spread beyond the corners of the hospital and into the darkness of the world.
“Director Kim?” the presenter he didn’t care to remember the name called for his attention. Leisurely, he brought his eyes from his phone to the sweating man. He didn’t even care to hide the fact that he was more focused on the phone than the presentation. He read all about it and he was not pleased one bit.
“I believe you graduated at the top of your class, Doctor Choi, am I correct?” he regarded him with an unimpressed look. He waved his hand before the man could even respond. He didn’t need his affirmation. “Did your school have an extremely low population? Did they have-“ he tilted his head to come up with a better word than what he was thinking. “-subpar qualifications? Was bribery involved?”
He met each and everyone’s eyes before standing up slowly in heavy disappointment. “Fix this. Or I’ll personally call all the organizations that awarded this hospital as the best and tell them that they made a terribly, colossal blunder and have them take all the certifications away.”
—-
“Hyuuuuung, why are you even doing here?” Jungkook, their youngest brother, whined as he watched his oldest hyung laid out on his office sofa. He had his phone up, glaring at it as though it personally did him wrong.
“Hanging out with you,” he murmured before throwing his phone away. He pulled his arm on his face and started groaning.
Jungkook wanted to smash his head against his table littered with thousands of documents he needed to go into- which he couldn’t do because his hyung just wouldn’t leave him in peace!
“You’re distracting me!”
“Tough luck. I need to be around someone who’s as lonely as I am.”
“Then go to the others! Why me?! Why not Namjoon hyung?!”
“He’s not lonely. He has his secretary,” Jin softly explained before putting down his arm and turning to look at Jungkook. “Besides, no one is as lonelier as you. Your wife is out there running from you.”
“No, she’s not! She’s just lost! What about Taehyung? Go to him!” he huffed as he was reminded yet again that his wife left him. His brows were now in a pinched as he pouted at his hyung.
Jin waved his suggestion away before closing his eyes. “Tae Tae does not feel any emotion, Kookie. He doesn’t even know he’s lonely because he is a high-functioning pain in the ass psychopath that needs to be put down as soon as pos-“
His slander on Taehyung was cut short as the sound of his phone alerting him of a message from the floor chimed. Jungkook watched his hyung scrambled on the floor to where he threw his phone both in confusion and disgust. He never saw his hyung behaved this way when he was the one who always insisted in proprietary and manners because they as he said, they might be cold-blooded criminals but they were not barbarians.
You were back, he read as the personnel from the Human Resources department he bribed messaged him. Apparently, you were on a week-long leave that required him suffering because you weren’t in his vicinity. Yet again, he had no time to dissect his feelings…
He just needed to see you.
It felt like everything was displaced when you were gone, yet at the same time it was how he was living before you came into his life and painted his world with colors he didn’t know existed. That was the thing, you came and changed his world. He didn’t know how to go back to his colorless world now.
“Okay, bye.”
Jungkook watched dumbfoundedly as his hyung ran out of his office.
Warnings: Yandere behavior, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.
A/N: Here we go <3
Masterlist, Part I of __
"Oh my God," someone from his right gasped loudly. "God really has favorites!"
Kim Seokjin blinked owlishly as he patiently waited for the elevator door to open. It was too early in the morning for someone to be this loud, or for someone to have this amount of energy. In fact, he thought it was peculiar. Despite him being the most handsome and perfect man on this whole planet with a godlike body proportion, clear skin, the most expressive eyes, and despite him being the genius that he was, and well, despite him being flawless in everything that he did, he could not for the life of him be that energetic when it was six in the morning. For heaven's sake, he still hadn't gotten his coffee.
Jin simply did not have the energy to deal with this person.
"Good thing you're a doctor!"
Jin took the deepest breath known to man, before breaking his intense and angry eye contact with the elevator. He noted that he would have the whole system replaced by Jungkook's company. The time was just unacceptable, he thought. Besides, he hadn't gotten enough beauty sleep last night because he stayed up late patching up the man Taehyung was torturing and the asshole called him at a godforsaken hour just because he didn't want the fun (also known as Tae’s torture) to end just yet.
What a psycho, he thought.
Well, they all were, he surmised. They just hid the madness in order to blend well with the society. He meant, who would even think that the beloved and heavily awarded actor was a high-functioning psychotic shit? Kim Taehyung was just that- a master manipulator when it came to emotions. They all had their own talents, though.
"I'm sorry?" he asked in the voice he used to communicate with his difficult patients. When he turned, he could have sworn you were really a patient if not for the white robe and identification card that you were wearing. He thought you looked like someone who escaped from the ward with the way your hair was haphazardly and carelessly tied in a bun, the bags under your eyes looked heavy that he almost recoiled. It was as though you and a peaceful night of sleep were strangers
He read your name and the department that you were working in.
Department of Psychiatry.
"How can I help, Doctor Y/N? Do you need medical assistance of any sorts?"
Your smile got even wider, and he was almost certain you were losing it. However, to you, you were just elated to hear your name passed his plump lips. Ah, you thought, you really loved working here. You were on the verge of transferring to the hospital your professor owned in the province. He had been attempting to pry you from this hospital, and you were ready to say yes. In fact, you already filed your resignation.
How could you say no to a seventy-percent increase? To a greener grass? To being able to afford to pay loans your family unfortunately passed onto you and buy your basic necessities?
Well, this face would do it.
"Yes. I feel a shortness of breath and you're to blame. You just took my breath away..." you explained, the smile still present on your face. The elevator dinged open, and you waved at the frozen medical director, the highest position in this hospital, with a glee. You entered the glass box, waiting for him to get in. "The medical director will hear about this!" you playfully scolded him
Alas, it looked like you broke him today.
He was still looking at the spot you had just vacated as though his mind circuited. On the other hand, you were on your way to take back your resignation. You just found your reason to stay. You were waving at the man blushing profusely enthusiastically as the door was closing, and yet he remained there.
Ah, what a good morning indeed, you thought.
Kim Seokjin, on the other hand and for the first time in his whole life, was taken aback by the reckoning force that you were.
That day marked your entrance into his life, whether he wanted you to be in it or not. And well, that day unknowingly sealed your fate. You couldn’t leave his life, whether you wanted to or not.
You became a somehow...permanent fixture in his life.
“Tadaa!”
Kim Seokjin jumped when he heard your voice for the first time today. He didn’t even have to turn to know it was you- you made sure that your voice alone was etched in his genius brain. He was always on guard when you were near, and fuck, even if you weren’t. It was like he had an internal alarm when you were near that kept screaming that there was a foreign substance near him, rendering him a different man. One that was not confident, one that always seemed to blush when you were near and he loathed it!
He was perfect and he was used to being in control with his emotions! What was this atrocity! How was a person such as you managed to disable his flight-or-fight instinct?
Jin blinked owlishly at the steaming cup of coffee you were eagerly presenting to him. It was his from his most favored coffee shop, he noted. It was off the way to the hospital.
And it was still hot.
It was six in the morning.
What time did you wake up for this?
“I know you must be tired from that six-hour surgery,” you noted lightly, smiling up at him. He looked good in scrubs and you couldn’t help the heat rushing through your cheeks when he met your eyes. “I thought you needed coffee. I asked your staff and they said this is your favorite.”
See, every time you talked, his brain just circuited and he didn’t know why. Although he possessed extraordinary genius, he still couldn’t find the reason why. He was not a bubbling mess. No! He was the image of perfection!
“I don’t…drink coffee.”
Idiot, he thought. Why did he say that?! You saw him several times with a coffee in his hand. Your elated expression fell immediately, the glint in your eyes fading. He was beating himself inside when the door opened behind him, his colleague, Doctor Seong-Min walking out and he immediately saw you.
“Oh! My favorite doctor!” he greeted you as almost everyone in the hospital knew of you because of your extrovert personality and high energy.
“Good morning, Doctor Seong-Min,” you greeted politely, though the tone of your voice was definitely knocked down. “You were in the surgery with Doctor Jin, right?”
He nodded before slapping Jin’s back once, “This man right here saved the patient twice. He definitely didn’t give up on-“
“Do you like coffee?” you cut him off, your exhaustion from your shift plus the trip you took to buy him coffee was now taking a toll on you and you wanted nothing but to sleep on your own bed.
“Yes?”
“For you! Have a good day, doctors!” you waved at them before walking away. Ahh, your mind was filled with thoughts of food and sleep. Finally, your day off!
Kim Seokjin’s mind, on the other hand, was filled with panic that he hurt your feelings and also anger to the doctor that was now about to sip the coffee.
“Give me that!” he hissed, pulling the coffee away from the equally exhausted colleague of his.
“What?! No! I need coffee!”
“This is mine!”
“She gave this to me-“
“No. Mine,” he announced as he successfully wrestled the coffee away from the confused doctor. “Okay, goodbye.”
“I’m selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.”
Aren't you a little liar? Thinking you could fool Min Yoongi with your doe eyes and shed tears. He can see right throughout your act and fake sobs. Good for him he knows how to tame liars.
Read here.
Park Jimin → Kitty gang
Kitty gang Jimin thought you were the cutest detective to ever exist. You really think you can caught him? He was just playing mind games with you, after all, you're his little mouse, the prey who's being played before being swallowed whole.
Read here.
Jeon Jungkook → Darkweb
In your 4 years working for the FBI you never witnessed something like this. An unknown hacker that stole all of your confidential files has been blackmailing you for weeks. The only thing he asked in return to not leak confidential information, it's a "date" with you out of the city.
Read here.
Kim Taehyung → Control
Taehyung was from the SWAT team special force, and you were a russian spy holding him hostage to use him as a bait. But... were you really in control? He doesn't think so.
Read here.
Jung Hoseok → Manipulator
You were a psychologist forensic, having the task to study the criminal profile of Hoseok. He intrigued you, because despise of his atrocious crimes, he was the sweetest man to you. But you should know better than to trust him.
Read here.
Kim Namjoon → Impostor
Who would've thought that your nice and dimpled neighbor was the militar spy stealing information from the government, and the one you have to caught.
Read here.
Kim Seokjin → Brat tamer
Seokjin was captivated by your beauty and intelligence. It was such a shame that those charms were being wasted by your criminal tendencies. Good for you he knows how to tame the naughtiness out of you, just like he did with his trained police dogs.
Summary: In which your friend thought it would be funny to give you a love potion, and in which seven CEOs accidentally drank it.
Warnings: Love Potion, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.
A/N: This idea came to me when I went to the mountain and saw a love potion wine thingy being sold there. I think it's just the name of the wine, anyway! I really, really tried so hard to finish this in one post but it's already almost 8kish and we aren't even near the end sksks Happy New Year, my loves! I hope you'll like my gift for you <3
“Am I that hopeless?”
“What?” your friend asked in faux innocence, blinking her eyes owlishly at you. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, sweetie-“
You glared at her as you pointed in an exaggerated manner at the expensive pink tumbler she handed you mere seconds ago. The tumbler was too fancy, something that you wouldn’t buy for yourself and something that a certain handsome but infuriating CEO of yours was fond of carrying around.
However, what was insulting was the content of the said tumbler.
“I just gifted you that because you mentioned that it was beautiful-“
“Do you really think I’d end up alone?!”
“I don’t understand-“
“You literally just said that you put the love potion you bought in the mountains here!” you hissed lowly, keeping your eyes around the conference room as your department waited for the seven CEOs to arrive. You attempted to smile which more or less came out as a grimace at one of your colleagues who looked at you weirdly because of your mini-outburst. You weren’t exactly meek in nature, nor were you shy. However, you weren’t really keen on letting anyone overhear that your close friend bought you a love potion just because she thought you would end up alone.
That was embarrassing, even for you. So nope, you would for sure keep this under wraps.
Her brows furrowed harmlessly, although you could see a hint of smile on her lips, “You’re welcome?”
“I’m not thanking you-“
Just then, all the seven CEOs walked in the conference room, their presence commanding and silence reigned through the whole room. The first to enter was Min Yoongi. He was strolling in the room with his hands in his pocket. He was said to be the ace of the group who could smell bullshit despite it being miles away. He honestly looked like he would rather be anywhere else than here right now, though. It was the complete opposite of Jung Hoseok, also known as the sunshine of the group. He was smiling widely as he greeted the department and some employees by their names, yet you weren’t fooled by his beautiful smile. He was the strictest of them all. He was perfectionist down to the core and he was the last to forgive any mistake. The last of the hyung line to enter was the Kim Seokjin, the most beautiful man you have ever seen. It was like the room literally lightened up when he stepped in, like the birds sang melodically the moment he opened his eyes. His tall form and his movement were precise as he confidently sauntered to his seat which just so happened to be beside yours. He placed his pink tumbler on the table, so eerily similar to yours sans the engraved of his name on his tumbler. The beautiful asshole didn’t even spare you a glance. Your back unconsciously straightened when the lead CEO, Kim Namjoon, locked eyes with you for a moment when he entered the room. He was said to be one of the most intelligent man in the whole country. You didn’t even doubt it one bit. He was capable, and his leadership was on another level. Should he decide to run for a political seat, you would undoubtedly vote for him. He had what it took, you thought. He was charismatic, calm and he knew when to listen.
The CEOs were dubbed by the employees to be divided by two: the Maknae and the Hyung line.
Finally, the maknae line entered. The three of them could always be found together. Park Jimin, the eldest of the line, who had one of the most beautiful smiles you ever saw. In fact, you once overheard your colleague that he interacted with her once and it left her thinking of what they really were. He was followed by Kim Taehyung and also labelled as his soulmate. He was expressionless as he entered, only cracking a smile when he turned to Jimin. You always thought that he could be a model or an actor if he wanted to. He definitely had the looks for it. Last to enter was the muscular Jeon Jungkook, also known as the golden maknae of the group. There were no contracts, mergers or acquisitions that he couldn’t convince the other party of signing. Not only was he capable of everything, but he excelled in everything. Thus, his nickname. However, despite the way he held himself during the negotiations, you observed him to be shy and highly reserved. All of a sudden, he looked up from his seat as though he could feel your eyes on him, his doe eyes curious as he took you in. He held your eyes for a moment until he blinked owlishly and looked down at his hands in curiosity.
Kim Namjoon sat in the middle, the others sitting beside him as they regarded the room with a powerful look.
“Shall we begin?” Kim Seokjin asked, his eyes focused on the slides reflecting in the projector.
Several headaches, passive aggressiveness from Namjoon, Hoseok and Jimin, disappointed sighs from Jin and Yoongi, difficult revisions ‘suggested’ by Taehyung, and corrections of miniscule errors of calculations by Jungkook later, the meeting finally ended.
You were weary as you trudged out of the conference room the CEOs were still in. They dismissed the department, expecting revisions within the day after tomorrow before discussing among themselves. It was honestly not a lot of time and you could already feel the lack of sleep you and the department would further experience under their tyranny. You willed yourself not to fall asleep as you walked to your desk, your close friend who was equally tired as you sat down on her seat beside your desk.
“I’m so tired. It’s like my soul and all the happiness I was able to experience in my young life were sucked out of me,” she lamented, her head resting on her desk. “If only the pay isn’t so greaaaat. ”
You nodded at what she said, already likening the CEOs to dementors in Harry Potter. Interacting with them made you aged several years. Additionally, meetings with them made you reconsider whether you needed a roof over your head, whether you needed to eat at least twice a day, whether you needed to drink clean water-
Speaking of…this wasn’t your tumbler.
The horrifying realization made you stood up abruptly. You lifted the pink tumbler to your widening eyes, and by that name there was no denying that this wasn’t yours. Your sudden movement awoke your friend from her own misery, yet you didn’t have the time to explain. Without any further thought, you ran back to the conference room, screaming and crying about how you were definitely going to get fired.
Of course, the elevator was under maintenance.
Of course, you had to run numerous flights of stairs.
Of course, it was just your luck that you ran into your manager just when you reached their floor.
And of course, the moment you opened the door, there they were, innocently drinking from a glass, the tumbler emptied as it sat in the middle of the table.
“Don’t drink that!”
Taehyung was the first to turn to you, his dark expressionless eyes meeting yours with intense stubbornness. He kept his eyes on yours as gulped the contents wholeheartedly.
Oh heavens, no.
He put the glass down with a resounding thud which felt like a nail to your coffin. You turned to look at the other CEOs with shaky eyes and it was apparent that they definitely drank their fair share of whatever was in the tumbler. You, on the other hand, weren’t sure if it was really safe for consumption. You were going to kill your friend for her prank!
Their eyes were focused on you. You couldn’t even blame them. You shouted at them all while looking like a lunatic with your disheveled hair and huffing breaths like you did a marathon. Oh wait, yes you probably did by the amount of running you did today. They were probably thinking that you were mentally unfit for this job and oh my God you were going to lose your job.
“May we help you, Ms. Y/N?” Hoseok asked you politely, his eyes never wavering from yours which was…unusual. Despite him being the image of kindness and approachability, he never looked at his employees for longer than necessary. He was a man that possessed such discipline when it came to his time. This… was absolutely an unnecessary length of time for eye contact.
“T-that’s my drink,” you finally said after tearing your eyes from Hoseok’s. You pointedly looked at the empty pink tumbler, not minding the intense look Namjoon was giving you.
“We apologize, little one,” Namjoon broke the silence, his deep voice awakening you from your stupor. “Yours looked like hyung’s.”
Little one???
Jimin smirked before running his hand through his blonde locks. His eyes were on yours as he looked up at you. “Yours undeniably taste better, though.”
Before you could even blink, Yoongi pointed at you with a rare smile on his lips. “You looked thirsty. Would you like to go to my office and drink with me?”
Was that…an invitation?!
You felt a hand tugged your sleeve. You turned, only to find beautiful doe eyes looking up at you from his seated form. “Hi! What year were you born?”
“199x-,“ you answered absentmindedly, you eyes roaming around the room when he tugged your sleeve again for your attention.
“You’re older than me!” he gasped; his excitement palpable as he stood up. He towered over you, his grin pleasant and you thought at that moment that he looked a lot like a bunny, or a kangaroo with the way his chest muscles were bulging over his office clothes. “Then you’re my noona! I can call you ‘noona’, right? Come on, take a seat here!”
He pulled the chair closer and tapped on it eagerly.
This was wrong, you thought. Was that thing really effective?! You dreaded to think that it was and you had a certain someone to torture once you get out of this room.
You were shaking your head before he could even pull you and you watched as his expression fell. Suddenly, he looked like a child that lost his toy with the way he was pouting. And nope, you couldn’t deal with that today. You looked at the man who hadn’t spoken one bit before smiling sheepishly at him. You placed his pink tumbler in front of him.
“I apologize. I must have switched yours with mine-“
His jaw tightened as he leaned in. Heavens, he was even more handsome this close. Kim Seokjin looked up at you with his ethereal eyes before resting his chin on his hand. “I’ve been drinking yours since the meeting, my love. It’s absolutely not your fault. Mine was coffee. This-“ he lifted the empty tumbler, “-is, I presume, a juice.”
Confusion further painted on your face, “You knew? Then why did you keep on drinking-“
He shrugged his broad shoulders, “It’s…addicting.”
“O-okay, then I’ll just leave yours here-“
“Tell me, my love. Do you like your job?”
Welp, here it was. You were so going to get fired. Oh my God, how were you going to feed your cat? He had such an expensive taste!
“I-“
“Because there’s an opening in my office. Would you like to be my secretary-“
“But hyung, you already have one-“
“Shut up, Taehyung,” he hissed at the now pouting man before turning to smile at you as though he didn’t berate his co-CEO in front of you. Chaos ensued as the boys fought and bickered for who would be your direct boss as you inched closer to the door.
“I’m just gonna go,” you whispered and before you could even reach the door, Taehyung looked up at you with his sharp eyes.
“Where are you going!”
“I-I have to finish the report this week, right?”
Namjoon stood up before declaring that he would finish it for you. And when you shook your head, “I am officially moving the deadline to next month! No need to stress, my little love!”
You blinked owlishly before doing what was best for you and your sanity- you ran away.
“So, they drank it?”
“Are you even listening to me?!” you shrieked over the phone, walking back in forth in front of your cat that was now looking at you as though he wanted to be adopted by a sane person and not you. “I just told you. They all drank it. All seven of them!”
You could hear the laughter in her voice which was not helping your panic, “I thought you didn’t believe love potions?”
“I-I didn’t! You didn’t see how they were acting! It was so peculiar!”
“Well, honey, how did they act?”
“Kindly! And it’s so weird!”
She paused, her silence making your heart beat faster. “Holy shit. It’s definitely effective. I need to go back there and buy another one for myself-“
“Focus! Is there an antidote or anything?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to ask my grandmother that lives there. I’ll let you know, but for the meantime, hold on very tight, okay?”
“What do you mean?!”
“Uhm. She said it’s very potent? I thought she was kidding. We’ll observe them tomorrow, okay? I’ll fix this.“
You were only able to sleep for two hours last night for two reasons: your work that you accomplished at eleven in the evening, leaving you six ample hours to sleep, and second, them.
Your phone didn’t stop ringing last night. You didn’t know how they obtained your number, and you dreaded to think that they used their position to direct the Human Resources department to give your personal number (yup, they definitely did).
You were about to fall asleep when your phone wouldn’t stop, and when you opened your eyes, you wished to all that was holy that you threw away the tumbler as soon as she handed it to you. Or that you didn’t choose the sit next to Seokjin.
You wished to God that your phone wasn’t blowing up now, but it certainly was.
Kookie: Hi, noona! Welcome to the Bangtan groupchat!
You squinted your eyes as the glaring screen illuminated with several messages from them.
Jwehope: Darling, are you a sprite? Because you've got the right amount of fizz to make my heart pop!
Jiminie: That’s so corny. I, for one, think that little one is a magician.
Jiminie: Because everytime I look at her, everyone just disappears.
V: Do you want to disappear, Jimin? Because I can arrange that.
Joonie: Ms. Y/N-shi, do you have a moment? I asked because I would like to discuss something.
At that, your trepidation grew. Among five, the lead CEO definitely held a serious tone. Did they find it as weird as you did that they were paying you attention? Did they trace it to that drink? Were you now in an even bigger mess than you initially thought?
You replied tensely: Yes, I am available, Kim Daepyonim.
WWH Jin: Why are you still awake? Beauty sleep is essential, my love!
Joonie: Great! I’d like to discuss the exponential growth of my feelings for you.
What.
The.
Fuck.
Suga: You’re all so hopeless. My Y/N would never fall for that.
Suga: On the other hand, would you like some Samsung stocks?
And that was why you never got to sleep peacefully last night. You sighed as you got on the bus. You opted to leave at an earlier hour because you wanted some time to think without the noise of the world and the buzzling movement of people commuting. You could feel a headache coming, but you prayed that it wouldn’t come through.
You should have known your prayers were seldom heard.
A vacant seat on the backside of the bus greeted you, and you were only too elated to finally sit throughout your commute. Peace, finally, you thought. You had barely settled in, barely breathed a sigh of relief when the once empty chair beside you was filled in by none other than him
“Fancy running to you here!” Taehyung noted in a deep voice as though this was not part of his plan, as though he didn’t wake up at a godforsaken hour just to ‘run’ to you.
You blinked, astonished by his presence. This was the last place you expected him to be. Hell, you didn’t even sure he ever experienced riding a bus! What the fuck was he doing here? Where was now your peace?!
“You-You’re here…” you trailed off, your eyes widening in shock as your brows furrowed in disbelief. You had foolishly thought that maybe, once they slept it off, then it would slowly be flushed out of their system. Oh, how wrong could you be. “Why?”
Taehyung smirked at you, his dark eyes taking you in. His dark hair was gelled up, his suit impeccable and without any crease in sight. He was somehow manspreading and you weren’t stoic enough not to notice the way his thick thigh was touching the side of yours. “I wanted to see you.”
“You’re so…honest.”
He didn’t even look embarrassed by his honesty. It didn’t displace him; what did was the annoying pain in his heart as the hours passed by and you weren’t in his arms nor his sight. He hated it. It felt wrong!
The other boys weren’t fairing any better but oh well, to each of his own. He may or may have also drained their cars of gas so they couldn’t leave. He thought that no one needed you as much as he did.
“I surmised that you wouldn’t believe if I say I frequent this path just for the hell of it, correct?”
You nodded dumbfoundedly as speech eluded you. His candor was definitely out of this world, and he seemed to not care as he only stared right at you.
“Now,” he whispered before tucking your hair behind your ear. “Now I feel at peace. The annoying pain finally stops.”
What pain?!
Before you could even ask him to elaborate, his head leaned on your shoulder.
“Daepyonim Kim-“
“Just stay like this for a while. I didn’t get to sleep, my love,” he answered in his hoarse voice, his eyes already closed as he dozed off. You didn’t know why you let him. It absolutely was not due to the fact that you felt your heart skipped a beat when he laid his head on your shoulder. Nope.
You managed to run away from Taehyung once the two of you arrived at the company, simply by practicing your non-existent ninja moves and awkwardly slipping out of the elevator just as the doors closed, his face an image of betrayal and panic. You breathed a sigh of relief before running out of the building. You still had an hour before you were needed, you for sure wouldn’t spend it inside that establishment or you would end up crying.
You were focused on your phone as you read real life stories of love potions. The sharing of stories kept on increasingly became more serious and scarier. You had yet to find a post about antidote. You weren’t 100% set on it being real, but the way Taehyung acted today was not right.
For heaven’s sake, the man barely said any word to you for the whole year you worked in their company. He had only looked at you before, and now he was outright going to you. But maybe, the other CEOs weren’t affected?
It was a hopeful thought, and you felt yourself smile a little- which of course vanished just as quickly when you looked up from your seat in the coffee shop to see Park Jimin sitting in front of you. You didn’t even know how he moved so smoothly and quietly. He was smiling at you, his head tilted to the side. His blonde hair stood out as the sunlight hit his hair perfectly.
“Good morning, beautiful!”
“Daepyonim Park,” you gasped both at shock and well, his beauty. His smile turned wider before he tried to hide it as he sipped from his coffee cup.
“Just Jimin, little one. I presume Taehyung- the bastard who will soon be six feet underground for what he did, by the way- already went to see you?”
You nodded, “He did…”
He scrunched his nose before resting his chin on his hand as he leaned into you. His pouty lips were protruding even more as he looked over his long lashes to you. My God, this man was so charming and his movements seemed so sensual. You didn’t know what it was about him, but you finally, finally understood your coworker who had a major crush on him for years based on one interaction.
“He’s so bad, my love. Did he tell you that he drained all our cars’ gas tank at two in the morning?” he asked in a conversational manner as though it didn’t faze him. His other hand reached to yours, slowly entangling them together and giggling a little at the slight size difference. He found them perfect and cute.
God, you were so endearing, he thought to himself.
“He did what?!”
He nodded slightly, holding your hand up to inspect further before quietly taking a picture of your clasped hands. You were so out of it that you just let it be.
“What Taehyung failed to account for was the existence of taxis. He only managed to anger six men, so good luck to him today. But enough about him,” he stated before looking into your eyes. Being the sole focus of Jimin was just too much, you thought. He was bigger than life, and his inherent appeal was palpable that even girls around the coffee shop kept on stealing glances on him. “I miss you so much today that my heart and head hurt so much, yeobo. I thought that I was going to die if I don’t see you.”
Your brows furrowed in concern before pulling your hand from him and you could have sworn you heard him whimpered. You laid the back of your hand on his forehead, trying to see whether he had fever today. He felt fine, you concluded, as you looked closer to see if he looked sick.
Maybe the ‘love potion’ caused these symptoms? Taehyung did mention experiencing pain.
You managed to escape from Park Jimin when he insisted on buying you pastries, and you in turn ran to the exit like your life depended on it. And perhaps, it did because you were running late. You only had fifteen minutes and the coffee shop you went to was not fifteen-minute away from the office. You were running like a lunatic, waving at the taxi that finally took pity on you. You were about to open the door when a large and tattooed hand slammed it shut.
You looked up in anger, ready to berate the man who did such a rude gesture when you recognized who it was.
Right then and there, and despite it being barely eight in the morning, you already met the entirety of maknae line. Jeon Jungkook looked like a badass with his all-black getup, his hands wrapped in motorcycle gloves, and his hair carelessly falling around his face. Despite all that, he looked innocent with the way he grinned at you, his nose all scrunched up when he greeted you.
“I’ll give you a ride, noona. Come on,” he stated as he gestured at the black motorcycle haphazardly parked on the side. You had never ridden one, and you didn’t want to start now. On the other hand, the taxi was already driving away and you could only look at it with longing.
You decided that you could afford being late just this once instead of riding with him. You were shaking your head.
“But you’re going to be late. I’m going there, too, so it’s no bother if that’s what you’re thinking-“
“No it’s just… I like to walk during the mornings…really.”
He frowned at you as he removed his gloves, “Didn’t you read the memo about tardiness, Y/N?”
“What memo?”
He was typing rapidly on his phone, “About how there would be 50% deduction of the salary should there be any tardiness this month…didn’t you know?” he asked innocently as he finished typing, his doe eyes trained on yours. Coincidentally, the moment he pocketed his phone was the moment your phone dinged.
“I don’t think that’s legal, though. I haven’t received the memo-“
You looked down at your phone, and there it was, an email about that. How could it only reach you now?!
You looked up in panic, and he looked at you with a hint of satisfaction before covering it with an innocent smile. “Shall we? I promise I don’t bite.” Yet.
He drove like a lunatic and you thought that you would really rather be late than experience a thrill such as this. Of course, it was only natural that you didn’t want to put your arms around him. You technically didn’t know him at a personal level and Jungkook did know that.
So, of course, like the intelligent man that he was, he only did the thing that made sense. He sped up, and he chuckled as your adorable screams reached his ears. Your equally lovely arms were now wrapped around him as they should always be and for once since yesterday, the ache in his heart eased. He felt at peace.
He giggled when you finally realized that this was not the path to the office, but in his mind, his other hyungs already got to spend time with you. Shouldn’t he too?
Jungkook helped you get off his bike, his eyes closely watching your expressions as you took the scenery around you. It was quiet despite the busy world below. The overlooking garden he brought you to was enchanting and it remained untouched by the quick-pacing world below. Jungkook couldn’t help but mirror your smile.
“It’s even more beautiful at night, noona. I come here when things get quite overwhelming.”
You turned to him as the two of you sat down. He had laid his leather jacket for you to sat on, a true gentleman you would think if only you weren’t aware that he drank the potion. “The golden maknae gets overwhelmed, too?”
He scrunched his nose at you before softly pinching your nose, “Of course, I do. I’m only human. I was trained when I was only thirteen…it gets too much sometimes. But it’s okay. I like it, and I like the hyungs, too. That’s why I cannot get mad at Tae.”
“He didn’t just empty the gas tank, but he also hid the keys. For added measure, he deflated my tire. He only did that to me. Should I be mad, little one?” he asked with the perpetual charming and shy smile on his face. “Ahh, but I cannot stay mad at him. I do understand him.”
“You do?”
He nodded eagerly, “I would have done the same thing if only he didn’t do it first. You do make us crazy, little one. Why is that?”
It was an eventful morning, and you weren’t foolish enough to think that the rest of your day would be any different. You friend was still yet to be found as she was preoccupied with researching for further information about that potion, which she should have done before giving it to you!
You sighed for the million time as you stared at your food. You were sitting alone in the company’s cafeteria as you were eating your late lunch. The workload was just too much today despite Kim Namjoon’s departmentwide directive that the revision would be presented the following month. Your superiors did find it peculiar and thought that the head CEO was simply playing with them and that he would cruelly demand the output the next day. See, even his reputation preceded him, you thought. It wasn’t in his nature to be lenient when it came to deadlines.
The sudden gentle thud of food a lunch box made you jumped from your seat, your eyes widening as you saw that it was none other than the eldest of the CEOs, Kim Seokjin. Disbelief held you captive. It was an unexpected sight – the CEO, whose tailored suits and polished demeanor spoke of boardroom authority, now standing before you with a container of something that smelled absolutely delicious.
He smiled at you as he took the empty seat in front of you. He busied himself with laying and opening the numerous food containers in front of you. Your eyes widened at all the homecooked meals in front of you.
“I got up at four in the morning to prepare all these. I still don’t know what your favorites are, but we’ll figure it out as we go, right?” he asked, busying himself with putting food on your plate. “Always eat on time, little one. It’s bad to skip meals.”
“W-why did you cook all these?”
He blinked owlishly at your question; surprise written on his face. “Well, my love, I couldn’t sleep and I felt this stabbing pain by the mere thought that you weren’t eating enough.”
“You don’t have to do that-“
“So from now on, I decided that I’ll always cook for you,” he declared strongly before lifting his chopsticks with vegetables to your mouth. Suddenly, you felt eyes on you.
How could you forget that you were in the company?! Your head turned, looking at the employees who were all watching your interaction with the unobtainable CEO. They were whispering and you knew by the end of the hour, everyone in the company would know of this. How could you live once they had the antidote? You could already hear the rumors about how you were just for their entertainment once they tossed you aside.
You were about to stand up when Seokjin gently gripped your chin. He turned you to him, his beautiful eyes willing you to listen to him. “Don’t mind them, little love. Pay attention to me only. Nothing and no one matter outside us, okay?”
It wasn’t okay because none of this was real. On the other hand, the meal tasted heavenly…
---
If they weren’t going to get sick, you definitely would. You felt like you would collapse any moment.
The amount of stress was taking a toll on you. You felt like you needed to be on your guard, lest another CEO would ambush you. You were just human! And they all looked like they stepped out of a photoshoot, or that they were ethereal beings that decided to go down on the mortal realms. The way they were showering you with attention and declaring their attraction to you and the way they said that not being with you felt like a stabbing pain in their hearts were all getting to you, damn it!
You were just a girl.
And once this all ended, you were dreading to think of what would be left of you now that you saw them on a closer and more personal level. You wanted to think that this couldn’t get any worse, but it did as you read the most elusive of the CEOs’ email to you.
Hi, my little one,
I hope this email finds you well. I am writing to request your presence at a meeting in my office to discuss my growing feelings for you today at 2:00 pm. Your insights and expertise on this matter would be highly valuable to the discussion, and I believe your input will contribute significantly to our objectives of being together forever and ever.
Thank you in advance for your cooperation, and I look forward to our discussion.
Best regards,
CEO Min Yoongi
He had this faraway look on his face when you were led by his secretary in his office. His hands were in his pocket as he looked at the bustling city from his floor to ceiling window. His black long hair was sleeked back, revealing his stoic face. The dark suit he was wearing did nothing but compliment his form. You had never noticed how broad his shoulders were until now.
He looked like he was not paying attention, yet he turned around the moment that the door closed behind you. Min Yoongi looked at you for a moment too long that you started to shift uncomfortably. His attention was just too much, and you couldn’t act like you were no longer affected by any of it.
And from the looks of it, the moment you blushed was the exact moment his face softened. He gestured for you to take the seat in front of his desk. He mirrored your movement, now sitting on his expensive swivel chair. He clasped his hands and rested them on the mahogany table.
“Daepyonim Min-“
He held his finger up, asking for your silence before spilling what you thought to be both outrageous and the most beautiful and heartfelt thing anyone had ever said to you in this life. “You’re beautiful, and not just in the way that you look. No. You’re beautiful in the way that the sun finally shines after a month of storms; you’re beautiful in the way that the waves keep on going back to the shore even after they were pushed away in the desire to kiss the sand; you’re beautiful in the way that flowers bloom after the unforgiving winter coldness. And that is why I’m giving you Samsung stocks.”
Confusion settled over you like a fog. You had almost melted from what felt like a poetry when he once again brought up his stocks idea from last night.
“I-I really don’t need Samsung stocks, Daepyonim Min…”
He looked aghast at your statement, before reaching over the table and holding your hand in his particularly large ones. “Call me Yoongi, my love. Or better yet, call me your other half,” he implored you and he only let go when you nodded in confusion.
“Also, nonsense! Everyone needs that stock, little one. Besides, nothing speaks more about my love for you than giving you all my Samsung stocks. And above and beyond, it filled me with this immense pain knowing that you’re just out there not owning any of their stocks. I couldn’t breathe with the mere thought of you going without.”
“Excuse me?”
And with a stoic face, he said, “Congratulations, little one. You’re now a millionaire."
At six in the evening, the head CEO finally made an appearance. You did find it peculiar that you had a fairly quiet afternoon after meeting with Yoongi. Your brows were pinched together as you were lost in thought when the elevator opened, revealing the head CEO. He had yet to notice you, his large and imposing form leaning against the side of the elevator. His eyes were close. You noticed that his white sleeves were already folded, his tie already loosened as his black suit laid on his thick forearms.
Kim Namjoon was the image of weariness, and you thought he looked quite pale. Your growing concern for him was what made you stepped inside the lift rather than running away yet again. The sound of your heels as you stepped in was the only sound in the elevator. You pressed for the ground floor and you saw that the floor for basement three was already pressed. Perhaps, the head CEO was going home now. Now that you were standing almost next to him, you only further affirmed how small you were next to him. He was already larger than life, and the way he always held himself exuded confidence made him more striking…and manly in your eyes.
The ride was fairly quiet, and through it all, he had his eyes closed. You kept on stealing glances, thinking that maybe among the other CEOs, he took in the least amount of potion. You felt lighter with that thought. At least you only had five men you needed to find the antidote for. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen the sunshine of the group, Jung Hoseok yet.
The elevator dinged, signifying your floor. You had taken merely a step when you felt a large hand completely encircling your wrist, effectively stopping you from leaving. You automatically turned, startled to find him with his eyes trained on you. He looked way too alert for someone who had his eyes closed for the past minute. You gasped when he pulled you closer to him as he pressed the close button.
“Daepyonim Kim,” you called him as you craned your neck to look at his draconic eyes.
“Leaving so soon?" he asked, his deep voice carrying a subtle mix of amusement and curiosity.
You hesitated, the words tumbling out of your mouth as he caught you off guard. “I... uh, yes. I was heading to the lobby. I’m about to leave for the night," you stammered, attempting to regain composure.
A playful smile curved his lips as he completely blocked the exit. leaned against the elevator frame, effectively blocking your exit, which sounded successful as the door closed. “I missed you,” he breathed as he took you in, his thumb gently running over the inside of your wrist as though touching you brought him immense comfort. “A lot. It was hell without seeing you the whole day.”
You blinked owlishly and you wanted nothing but to hide your face from the intensity of his gaze, but he wouldn’t let you. Instead, he smiled so gently at you, the dents on his cheeks making an appearance which made him more charismatic that you couldn’t say no when he told you that he would take you home.
But he didn’t exactly say which home because you ended up in what turned out to be the CEOs’ huge ass mansion. Your eyes roamed around the mansion, the high ceilings and the fancy marble flooring all screamed wealth that you didn’t even dare of dreaming to have. He confidently led you to what appeared to be a grand dining room. The room bathed in the soft, flickering glow of candlelight, casting a warm and intimate ambiance. The delicate flames danced gracefully, creating patterns of light and shadow that played across the table. The air carried the subtle fragrance of the candles, a mix of vanilla and subtle hints of lavender.
The dining table was adorned with crisp, white linen, and the flickering candles were nestled in elegant holders, their glow reflecting off polished silverware and crystal glasses. Each flame seemed to dance in harmony with the gentle melody playing in the background, creating a soothing symphony that enveloped the space.
He pulled a chair for you, and instead of sitting across from you, he sat beside you. He chuckled lowly when he caught your questioning eyes, “I have been apart from you for so long today, little one. I need this to feel alive.”
You straightened up in vigilance that the other CEOs would show up. “Are the others here, too?”
He looked at you like you said something funny. The chef he hired today gently laid all the dishes he made, explaining about each dish before wishing the two of you an enjoyable night. Namjoon told you that he wouldn’t feed you any of the food he made unless he enrolled himself in a culinary school first, hence the chef. He waited for the chef to leave before turning his full attention to you.
“I shipped them off to Antartica.”
“You what?!”
“I simply said we were flying to Japan for a quick meeting. They believed. I lied. End of. So anyway, how many children do you think we should have?”
My God, you wanted so bad to lay on your bed and sleep the whole night. You though about filing for sick leave tomorrow, you were long overdue for a leave, anyway. Kim Namjoon was kind enough to drop you off. However, it was only after you promised him that you would talk about possible schools for your future children that he let you go.
On the other hand, your friend finally called and you were sorely disappointed to know more about what she gathered today. Her grandmother had to ask the other folks that lived in the mountain about your situation and it somehow appalled you that you weren’t the first to experience this.
It was, at the same time, sad to see people resort to this from loneliness.
Was an artificial, forced love and companionship better than being alone?
There were both an instant and quite a long-term effect of the potion, she said. The instant was mostly upon ingesting the liquid. Once they locked eyes with the owner of the potion which so happened to be you since she technically gifted it to you, then the immense attraction would start. You thought that this explained why the seven of them all acted that way in the conference room.
The long-term effects were what caused you to groan all the way up to your apartment. And right then and there, you saw what the long-term effects were. As you trudged up to your apartment, you felt the exhaustion to your very bones. You were looking forward to a hot shower in an effort to wash away the problems that stemmed from a simple prank when you saw who was leaning against your front door.
The last of the CEO, Jung Hoseok, was leaning against the door, his head bowed down as he clutched his heart. He looked like he was in unfathomable pain, his lips almost the shade of white. And your friend’s words echoed in your mind.
‘Prolonged non-contact with the object of their desires will cause them to be physically ill.’
You hurried up to him, holding his shoulders as you looked at him. You were crouched down in front of him, peeking up at his pained face.
“S-sir, are you okay?”
His chest tightened, his face contorted, a mask of agony etched with lines of distress. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, evidence of the intense effort to draw in even the smallest amount of air. The hallway fell silent, save for the raspy, labored breaths that escaped him.
‘They may try to fight the unexplainable feelings they have, and this will only cause them harm. In fact, if they go without you for a long period of time, their body will suffer for a long time.’
“Hoseok? Can you hear me? I’ll call for help, okay?” you tried to make yourself sound calm for his sake, but seeing him struggling, desperate to gasp for air was making you panic. Your negligence did this, you thought. You should have made sure that you were holding the right tumbler that day.
You were about to turn to call for help when you felt a hand pulled you closer, and before you knew it, he had his arms around you. He was still breathing hard, but you noticed that the shallow breathings were farther and apart as though he could finally breath. The moment you touched him, the moment you looked into his eyes was the exact moment that a wave of relief swept over him as the oppressive grip on his chest began to loosen. The moment that you called his name was the moment that the torment that had shackled his every breath gradually lifted, replaced by the sweet release of a deep, calming respiration.
“Don’t leave me.”
‘However, every interaction with you would only make their attraction grow further.’
You placed a glass of water in front of the man who now looked perfectly fine as though he wasn’t fighting for his very life outside your apartment. He was offering you reassuring smiles as he gently watched you. He was surrounded by sacks of expensive cat food, toys, and vitamins. And of course, your cat was only too happy with them, evident by the excessive purring he was emitting as he climbed on the CEO’s lap.
“I did hear that you have an adorable son int the form of a cat,” he started as he petted your spoiled cat. “As his future daddy, I would like to provide for him as early as now.”
You didn’t pay attention to whatever he was saying, and instead, you sat next to him to see if he was really fine. The paleness was now exchanged by a healthy look on skin. It was as though that didn’t happen.
“Hoseok, listen…the reason that you are all acting this way to me, the girl you didn’t even notice before this, was because-“
“Because of that drink, right?” he interrupted you, wearing a soft smile that conveyed he harbored no anger.
“Y-you know…”
He nodded before tilting his head, “I do. It’s weird, as you said. The thing is, all of us suspects the same thing. You, little one, only confirmed it.”
“I didn’t mean for any of these to happen-“
The soft look he had was now dropped, revealing the strict CEO that everyone knew him to be. “Regardless, little one. You need to take responsibility over your actions.”
“H-how?”
“You’re going to live with us until all of this fades. You’re going to take responsibility over us, my love.”
Prompt: Sworn enemies by day, restaurant mascot by night.
Prompt request: HERE
Genre/tags: Fluff, enemies to lovers(?), university au, they are both dumb lol
Pairing: Jin x she/her reader
a/n: Welcome home Jin!!! 💜 I was saving the only one Jin request I got to post it on his coming back date, but I didn’t finish it on time 😔
Your life was simple. You attend your classes by day and help your family’s restaurant by night.
How you wished it was that easy though. You were on the verge of failing your classes, trying to balance your studies, social life, and work. All that while trying to make sure you get a good rest, which honestly, you had not been having in quite some time.
The days were not exactly the smoothest ride. Being someone who was new to the town, you needed some time of getting used to. It was a big decision your parents made to move to a new city, but as their only daughter, you supported them fully.
One thing that somehow helped you get through the day was this tuna mascot of a seafood restaurant next to yours. Yes, a mysterious man who refused to show you his face, in a full tuna fish costume, who you got to meet every weekend.
The first meeting the tuna intern was actually kind of wholesome. You were helping your family setting up the store and he just appeared to be there, standing with a sign that had something about the freshness of their seafood written on it. The fact that he dropped the sign and helped you carry two boxes while still being in his full attire, still amused you until this day.
And that was how your friendship bloomed. You would occasionally visit him and or just to say hi when he worked his shift. In return, he cheered you up with just simply being there. Sometimes meeting him and talking about random nothings just made you forget all your worries.
**
“I heard you got paired with Seokjin for the group project.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” You said to your friend as you yawned.
“Why? He’s hot.”
“And a narcissist.”
“And still hot.” Your friend argued and laughed. “Stop being so sulky, I bet everyone’s jealous of you right now.”
“Minji, he’s dumb. Have you seen his test results?! I don’t want to fail history class just because of him!”
“You’ll be fine! Plus, since he’s really easy on the eyes, just make him do the whole presentation and that’ll get you good grades.” Minji laughed again.
“Ugh.” You rolled your eyes, as you kept your focus on your phone instead, scrolling through Instagram.
“Why do you hate him so much anyway?” Your friend asked as she mimicked you slumping on the cafe table.
“I don’t… it’s just.” You sighed. “I don’t know, he’s cute but he really didn’t have to rub it in my face like that.”
“You’re still not over that?”
Once upon a time you were at your campus festival. Enjoying your freshmen days, simply admiring people doing all the festivities from afar while you sip on your lemonade. The crowd felt a little bit overwhelming, intimidating even, since it had been only a week since you enrolled.
That day was also the first time you met your friend Minji, the girl who was also a freshmen like you. You both were lost trying to find the main hall and somehow bumped into each other.
Both of you were just passing through the food stalls and club fair when you came across a juice bar. You noticed how there were two attractive men in the booth. Clearly whatever their team or club was trying to do, was working because you and your friend stopped to sneak a look.
One guy was extremely well built and had tattoos all over his right hand. The inks and piercings definitely did not match his doe-looking eyes though. On the other hand, the second guy looked like a prince. He had the most luscious lips and his skin was so clear that he looked like he might modeled for a skin care brand. The light brown hair was permed and styled. You also thought his smile looked very pretty.
“Hello! We’re selling fruit juice to support our music club!” The one with tattoos kindly waved at you and Minji.
“Oh my, they’re cute…” Minji whispered to you and practically dragged you closer to the stall.
“We have strawberry, orange, mango, and peach.” The taller one mentioned with a grin.
“You guys are really cute, you sure they didn’t tell you to watch the booth just because of that?” Minji chuckled.
“I’m aware, not sure why they picked Jungkook right here when he could barely talk to women, but yeah.” The guy said proudly.
“That’s not nice.” You said bluntly.
“Oh, that’s just how he jo—“ Jungkook spoke, but was soon interrupted.
“Why, you don’t think I’m good looking?” The man eyed you, judging.
“I think you’re full of yourself.”
You heard Minji called your name in a low voice, trying to calm you down, but you refused to listen.
“So you’re not denying that I’m good looking.” The man smirked at you as he scoffed.
That comeback gave you the biggest ick and you proceeded to link your friend’s arm in yours. “Let’s go, we’re not buying shit from them.”
You dragged your friend away as you listened to the man who turned out to be Seokjin himself, whined from a distance.
Ever since that scene, you swore you wanted nothing to do with the music club. It sounded pretty unfair considering you only despised Jin and the rest of the members did not wrong you in any way, but you had already made up your mind. That was until he failed art history class and now had to retake the subject, hence how you ended up being misfortune enough to get grouped up with him.
**
“Look, do you wanna do this project or not?” You folded your arms and crossed your legs.
In the library, you sat down eye to eye with your worst nightmare himself, the self proclaimed “World Wide Handsome”, Kim Seokjin. You both had agreed to meet up for the project but you didn’t realize it would be this irritating. Hell, as much as he was easy on the eyes as your friend claimed, all you wanted to do was to leave and stay far far away from him.
“I just don’t get why I have to do all the verbal work here.” He complained.
“You barely did the slides and research, of course you have to.”
“That’s because you just decided it by yourself??? I never told you to do all the work!” The guy said, now crossing his hands back at you.
“You see why? Because this.” You pointed back and forth between the two of you. “How can we get any work done when all we do is argue when we are together?!”
“Why do you hate me so much?”
The seriousness in Jin’s eyes scared you. He was staring straight into your soul and you did not like how it made you feel. Not even one bit.
“Because you’re conceited.”
“And the problem?”
“See?!”
“We’ve never been in normal conversation before, you can’t just decide that.”
Once again your eyes met his and you felt stuffy, nervous, but mostly anger. The thing was, you began to question yourself. Was the excessive anger really necessary or were you biased because of the bad start? Not like any of that mattered anyway.
“Screw you.”
You stormed out the library, making sure you stomped extra hard, childishly so he could see how pissed off you were.
**
“Someone’s in a bad mood…”
“Oh, hi.” You waved at the moving Tuna mascot, trying to form a smile. “I’m just really tired today, that’s all.”
“Aww, come tell papa tuna about it.”
He moved closer to you as you kept wiping the tables. It was already at closing hour and he should be off his shift right now. It was sweet how he sometimes would stay longer just to accompany you cleaning.
“Eww, since when do I call you papa?” You cringed, but laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re like super old or something?”
“Oh, I’m older than you alright.” He chuckled.
“How do you know?”
“I just know.” He patted his chest through the costume. “So? What’s wrong?”
“I kinda have this group project.” You said, hands still spraying cleaning products onto the table. “And I got paired with someone I don’t particularly like.”
“Oh…” He muttered. There was a hint of disappointment in his voice and you wondered why.
“It’s fine, the project’s almost done anyways.” You smiled at him and moved to the next table. “You’re not going home?”
“I might stay for a couple of minutes.” He took the empty seat not too far from you. “I don’t have morning class tomorrow.”
“You’re also in uni?”
“That’s for you to find out.” He snickered. “Anyways, tell me more. What’s bothering you?”
“Okay, you tell me. Am I wrong if I dislike someone because they’re like, I don’t know, so full of themselves?”
“Hmm.” The tuna guy put his hand under his chin comically, making him look funny and adorable. “Have you maybe try talking with them about it?”
“Why would I? He clearly doesn’t want anything to with me.” You sighed.
“Has he ever said that to you?”
“Well no, but that’s not really necessary when his action is already telling me that…”
He went quiet for a second, humming to himself before responding. “You’re right. Maybe he made a bad impression. But maybe, just maybe, if you give him a chance he could be a decent person?”
“I don’t know, he’s very popular and there’s really no reason to talk with him anyways.” You shrugged.
“Right…”
“But I kinda feel bad for walking away from him today.” You said with a sad expression.
“How so…?”
“Dunno, maybe I shouldn’t just decided on my own and did all the paperwork myself…”
“Maybe you should apologize?” The guy said in an unsure tone.
“I don’t know how.” You sighed. “What if he just laugh at me or something?”
“He wouldn’t. Trust me.”
You didn’t know why, but his words sounded weirdly assuring. “I’ll think about it.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” The guy gave you two thumbs up.
“It’s getting late, you should head back. Being a tuna for hours must be tiring.” You smiled at him. “Oh, wait.”
“What is it?”
You quickly ran back inside, leaving the man in the costume alone sitting on one of your restaurant tables. When you came back, you had one plastic container with a few pieces of fried chicken inside.
“Here.” You extended your arm to him with a big grin. “You must be hungry after standing up all night.”
“You don’t have to!” He suddenly stood up.
“I insist.” You grabbed his fluffy arm and put the container in his hands. “As a thanks, for being my friend.”
“Come here I need to hug you for this.”
You laughed and gave him a big hug. “You’re so fluffy!”
He patted your head playfully. “Don’t rub your face on me, they never wash this costume.”
“Eww.” You scrunched your nose and quickly let him go. “I’ll see you next week?”
“Yeah.”
**
Today, you had decided to finally swallow your ego and actually try to have a normal and functional conversation with Jin. It was almost surreal to think that you practically swore to have nothing to do with the music club, but now here you were, standing right in front of their club room.
It took you almost ten minutes of pacing back and forth before you finally knocked on their door. The response was not immediate, as their room was loud, filled with music instruments playing. Once the door opened, someone with a very warm smile greeted you. The colorful outfit and his tinted glasses made him look so hip, you thought. He held the door slightly ajar, just enough to fit his body to peek at you.
“Hello, what can I do for you?”
“Hi, uh… I’m Y/N and I’m looking for Seokjin? Is he here?”
The guy widened his eyes and looked back inside the loud room. “Yeah, he’s here.”
“Cool. Can I maybe borrow him for a few minutes? He’s my history project partner…” You said and smiled awkwardly.
“Do you wanna come inside?”
“H-huh?” You pointed at yourself. “Me?”
“Who else.” The guy chuckled. “We’re almost done but you might need to wait for him to wrap up.”
You replied with a skeptical “okay” and quietly followed the man from behind. The sound of drums and laughter filled the room and the bright decorations matched the vibe and atmosphere the place was giving. There were a few people inside and one was the boy with tattoos that you recognized from before.
“Usually we have more people around, but there wasn’t any official activity today so it’s just us.” The guy who opened the door for you explained. “I’m Hoseok by the way, you can call me Hobi. Want me to introduce you to them?”
“Why is Y/N here?” One blond guy suddenly spoke as soon as he saw you.
“You know me?”
The guy playfully shrugged and grinned. “Jin sometimes talks about you.”
“Really?” You asked, genuinely shocked by the news.
“Uh… Jin? Jin?? Someone’s here for you.” Hoseok intervened.
“What? Who—” You heard the man shouted back, but he was unable to finish his sentence as soon as your eyes met.
“Hey, uh… can we talk for a sec? I won’t be long.” You said.
“Like right now?” He looked at you questioningly.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, give me one sec.”
“So, you’re Y/N huh?” The same blond guy came up to you from behind. “I’m Taehyung, but they call me V.”
“Stop trying to make your stage name happen, Tae.” Hoseok said. “The one with the bucket hat there, is Yoongi. The tall one is Namjoon, and Mr. Tattoos and piercings right there is Jungkook.”
“Usually our main group has one more person but Jimin’s sick at home.” Taehyung mentioned.
You nodded politely. In your head, you were still processing the information that Jin was apparently talking about you to his club friends. You wondered what made him do so. You wondered if he bad-mouthed you, if he told all the ugly things about you, telling his friends how much you annoy him.
But why do his friends just seem so… friendly? None of them acted hostile towards you. The first two that spoke to you were really nice and bubbly, and even Jungkook who was with Jin the first time you met him, smiled when he saw you. Surely they would had acted differently if Jin hated you that much.
“Alright, let’s go?” Jin approached you.
“Uh, yeah.” The newfound information got you feeling nervous.
“It was nice meeting you!” Hoseok waved at you cheerfully and the rest smiled and nodded at you as you waved back awkwardly.
“They didn’t say weird things to you right?” Jin said as soon as both of you closed the door behind. You were now walking aimlessly across the campus hallway.
“No, I guess…”
“Awesome.” He clasped his hands together. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Oh yeah that…”
Right, what was you wanted to talk about again? How could you talk when his soft fluffy hair was just there, distracting you. And now that you were standing up facing each other this close, you had never realize how well built and tall he was. Screw the universe for making him so attractive.
“Yeah?”
“I want to apologize… for last time.” You looked away, rocking your body back and forth again out of nervousness. “I’m wrong for deciding to work on the project myself. I should’ve at least try to work things out to find the middle ground with you.”
“Pfft…”
You looked at him in disbelief. How could he laugh when you were trying your best to apologize to him properly???
“Excuse me?!”
“Sorry, your expression… it’s so cute.”
“Cute?!” You were offended by this point. “Forget what I said. You’re beyond saving.”
“Wait! No, that’s not what I meant…” He tried to stop you but it was too late.
You did not want to hear more from him. Was it really that hard to just take you seriously? You felt ashamed to even think that you could at least have a normal conversation with him. You were right all along.
And so you chose to ignore him. A few days passed and it was only two days left until your final presentation. Quite frankly, you could not care less. You had given him all the material and all you needed for him to do was to just blatantly accept his role.
“Mr. Tuna?”
You were now back with your night cleaning duties again, accompanied by your fish friend. You had told him everything about what happened between you and Jin, needing reassurance and validations for being angry at him.
“He really did you know… He laughed at me.” You bit your lips, maintaining your emotions. “Do you think I’m in the wrong? I’m not, right? Like what did I do? Am I ugly? Does he not want to talk to ugly people is that it???”
“You’re not ugly.”
“Well I don’t think so either… but what if I am in his eyes??? Maybe he just doesn’t want to associate himself with—“
“I don’t think you’re ugly!!!” The guy suddenly spoke up, a little louder than he intended.
You were taken aback for a second, and smiled. “Thanks, but I was talking about that person.”
“I cannot defend him anymore, I think it’s valid for you to hate him.”
“Why do you sound so sad?”
“Would you hate me if I turned out to be someone you know?” He asked without answering your question.
“Huh? Why suddenly?”
“Just answer it.”
“I don’t know, but I guess I enjoyed talking with you and I consider you as my friend if not best friend at this point already. I don’t think it would change anything.” You assured.
“Promise?”
“Why?” You looked at him suspiciously. “You’re scaring me, am I going to get a face reveal soon?”
“Who knows.”
**
The presentation day finally has arrived upon you. Everyone was seated with their corresponding partners and you were still sitting alone, as Seokjin was nowhere to be seen. The class session had already begun and you were minutes away from your turn. It was unbelievable the amount of disrespect that this man chose to show to you, by not showing up at all.
Your team was next in line. At this point you had given up all hope. Maybe it was for the best that you present it yourself since you did all the research anyway.
In the midst of the presentation in front of you, you saw how everyone’s eyes shifted to the back of the class in a flash. They stopped for a brief seconds, fake coughing to regain their composure, before continuing. They occasionally stole glances up and down, eyes looking dubiously.
Your curiosity was not left hanging for too long because just seconds later, someone in a big tuna fish costume just took the seat next to you. As a matter of fact, you were very familiar with the costume itself, but the reason behind him being in your class was truly bizarre to you.
Everyone was looking at your direction at this point and you were scared to ask any question. In your head you were starting to connect some dots, but too afraid to actually confront them. Some parts of you refused to believe it.
It was too implausible for them to be the same person. One was selfish and conceited, while the other was funny and caring. There was simply just no other explanation for the situation. You began to question your own sanity. Perhaps the lack of sleep had started to catch up on you.
“I’ve read all the emails you sent me. Don’t worry, we’ll ace this.” The guy suddenly spoke.
Hearing his voice from inside the mascot suit just sealed the deal. You had been friends with the guy you despised so badly this whole time without knowing. Not only that, you basically told him stories about himself and mentioned how bad of a person you thought he was.
He stood along with you when both of your name was called, fully confirming that the name belonged to him. Everyone started whispering and some started laughing immediately upon seeing the hilarious looking costume.
“Hello everyone, we’re from team seven and we’re now about to present to you about the history of mixed media.” He waved playfully while you were standing stiff right next to him. “As you can see, I’m in this costume that I had to convince the restaurant that I work at to let me borrow.”
Everyone laughed again in unison.
“You may wonder why, and the answer is because my partner right here,” He pointed to you. “She did all the research herself because I was being a dumb jerk.” He moved his body, looking at the direction of the professor. “I know that’s not great for my name but I promise I’ve learned all the materials she had sent me well. So the least I could do to her was to give you all an entertaining presentation…”
The presentation then went on fully with him still with the suit on until the very end. All you did was simply pressing the next button as he deciphered the slides, entertaining and engaging the audiences, even the professor himself. He truly was a charming guy and no mask could hide that. You should have had realized that sooner.
It just did not make any sense to you. How could he hated you while at the same time acted like your best friend in another form?
“I’ll go change and we’ll talk?”
You just looked at him, no words at hand. Everything still felt so unreal. You watched as he strugglingly entered the washroom. He went out minutes later with sweat clinging to his t-shirt, hair damp from the heat of wearing the costume. With the set hugged in his hands, he mentioned something about sitting down somewhere, and you just followed from behind.
“Do I smell?”
You shook your head quietly.
“Oh cool.” He chuckled awkwardly. “Is my—“ He huffed before even finishing the sentence. “I’m sorry, I’m stalling.”
For some reason his smile seemed differently now that you were seeing him in a new light.
“Here I am, I guess…” He laughed nervously. “I understand if you don’t wanna be friends again after this. I just wanna say that I’m truly sorry for what I did.”
Why was he speaking like that? Why was he speaking in the way your friend spoke? All with that damn annoyingly attractive face?
“The first time we met, I was being sarcastic.” He stated. “If you actually let Jungkook finish, he was about to tell you. I love that boy a lot, he’s a really nice guy, you know.”
“You were?”
His smile brightened when you finally opened your mouth and said something. It was the first time he heard your voice today and it felt like a huge weight just lifted off his shoulders.
“And uh, about when you apologized… I honestly didn't mean to laugh. I know that's what you feared but honestly I just got nervous.”
You raised one of your eyebrows at him. “You? Nervous? I’ve seen neither Mr. Tuna or the Seokjin I know being nervous.”
“You were really cute that day.” He smiled giddily, a rosy tint covering his cheeks.
That was new.
“Oh my god, I need some getting used to seeing you say that with your real face.” You looked away, the corners of your lips curled up helplessly. “So, when I met you as Mr. Tuna you’ve already known me?”
“Yeah.” He sighed with a smile. “I’m sorry, I was a coward. I should’ve told you sooner but you keep avoiding me at campus and you don’t exactly like the real me either so…”
“But this is the real you, right? The one that helps me out and listens to me rambling every weekend?”
He nodded, making you smile. “Can we be friends?”
“We already are, dummy.”
He exhaled loudly, grinning like an idiot. “Truce?” He offered his fist.
“Truce.” You shook your head and gave him a fist bump.
“Alright, we usually finish with a hug…” He looked at you with side-eyes. “It might feel slightly different without the costume and all—“
You cut his sentence short by jumping him with a big hug, surprising the guy.
And you know what, the hug did not actually feel that much different. It was still fluffy, fuzzy, and soft like how the used costume material would rub against your skin when you hugged him. Because when he hugged you back, you were sure you felt all of that even when he was without the mascot fish attire.
Summary: Jin appreciatess your care and concern for his groupmates, but sometimes he can’t
help but start to feel a little jealous.
Warnings:
mentions of illness, teeny bit suggestive, not proofread
A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requsted this!
Masterlist
Requests are open
°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•
“Hey, babe.” Jin said, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he wandered into the kitchen, drawn by
the comforting scent of home cooked food.
“Hi, Jinnie, did you have a good nap?” You said, noting the lingering drowsiness in his eyes.
“Mhm, whatcha making?” He tried to lean around you to swipe a taste from the pot you were
stirring, but you were quick to swat his hand away.
“Ack, don’t touch! It’s for Joonie.” You said,
earning a frown from him.
Four days ago, while the group was traveling together for promotions, Namjoon had come down
with a bad stomach bug and had to sit out several events. The guys had felt bad about having to
leave him holed up at the hotel, pretty much on his own, other than the ocasional staff member
coming by to check on him, but luckily you had offered to look after him and keep him company,
having tagged along on the trip at Jin’s request(or more acurately, dramatic wailing that he
couldn’t stand going two entire weeks without seeing you. “I’ll die! You have to come with me,
please!”).
At the time, Jin had been more than grateful, his heart twisting in his chest at the care and
tenderness you displayed towards his bandmates, but now that everyone was home, and Joon
was on the mend, he couldn’t help begining to feel a little neglected by your continued doting on
the younger member.
“Does he really still need your help?” He asked.
“What do you mean?” You turned to look at him, brow furrowing at his question.
“I’m just saying he’s a grown man, he can take care of himself.”
“I know that, I just want to make sure he’s got some good food to help him bounce back.
Besides, you know what a terrible cook he is.” You replied, returning you attention to the stove.
When you received no further response, though, you glanced back over at where he leaned
against the counter, taking in the slight pout that still lingered on his face. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” He said flatly, avoiding your gaze.
“Jin.”
“I just-, I don’t know, don’t you think you’re going a little overboard for him? Honestly, people
would think he’s your boyfriend instead of me.” He said, the last part coming out grumbled under
his breath.
You whipped around to look at him fully. “What was that?”
He stopped, catching the slight edge in your voice. “Nothing.”
“No, you said something, what did you mean though?” You pressed, already having an inkling about what was going on in his
head. Jin liked to believe that he wasn’t an easily jealous person, but you’d been with
him long enough to know that wasn’t the truth, he just had the tendency to stuff it down and
brood over it rather than adimit it. “Babe, we’ve been over this, If somethings bothering you, you
need to say it.”
“I don’t like you spending all your time fussing over Namjoon,” He rolled off
quickly. “It feels weird. You’re my partner, not his. And maybe it's selfish, but I just want your attention for me.”
“Okay, fine!” You attached yourself to his front, wrapping your arms around his waist tightly. “Better?”
“Mmm.” He shrugged, sounding unsure.
“How about now?” You standing on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his lips.
“Okay, maybe a little.” He caved, leaning down so you could better reach his face, sighing as
you gave him another, less inocent kiss.
“I’m sorry for making you jealous. I didn’t think it would bother you so much.” You said.
“Don’t apologize, I shouldn’t have let it get to me.”
“How about this? We drop off this soup at Joons place, and then I’ll give you all the attention you
want for the rest of the night?” You offered teasingly.
He looked away, trying to hide his growing smirk. “I guess that would be okay.”
“Just okay?” You asked, running your fingers through his hair, earning a small shiver from him.
“You know you really shouldn’t be rewarding this kind of behavour.” He mused.
“Why?” You asked.
“Because I sounded like a baby complaining that I’m not getting enought attention.”
“You’re my baby.” You said.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” You muttered, kissing him again. “You know you don’t have anything to be jealous of.”
“I know, I just missed you.”
“I’m right here, I’ll always be right here.” You promised him, cupping his jaw as you spoke, a
sudden frown crossing your features as you felt how warm his skin was. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You’re kinda hot.”
He scoffed. “Thanks.”
“No, I mean I think you might have a fever.” You pulled away, looking at him worriedly. “Let me
get the thermometer.”
“I’m fine.” He argued, to no avail.
He wanted you attention, he should’ve been careful what he wished for.
titsay
prguitarman
jacobvanloon
gummygunk
blakekathryn
tangentwithtanner
