Andante Cantabile || MYG X Reader

andante cantabile || MYG x reader

pairing: myg x f!reader

genre: historical / regency au, fluff, smut in epilogue

chapter rating: 13+

wc: 10.4k

summary: You are convinced Mr. Min is nothing but a rude and gloomy man after he leaves a horrible first impression on you. His friends' attempts to convince you otherwise are met with mixed success.

warnings: pianist!yoongi, jane austen rip-off, enemies to lovers if you squint, slow burn, mention of parent death, jungkook is the reader’s younger brother, full ot7 as supporting cast

note: I’m finally crossposting to tumblr again! A little nervous, mostly excited 😊 It’s exactly two years ago that I first posted this story, and I’m still really proud of it. The writing style was a fun challenge, definitely a bit of an experiment but I hope you enjoy!

(Posted as a oneshot on ao3, split into smaller parts for tumblr. That does mean the first part has relatively more screentime for the supporting cast, but there is a lot of regency!Yoongi goodness coming up 💕)

masterlist: 1 | 2 | 3 | coda

“Jungkook.” With an urgent whisper, you shook your brother awake. “Kookie!”

Your little brother had been sound asleep, curled up in the sheets, but he stirred at your insistent poking of his cheek.

“Wh— what’s going on?” he asked groggily, trying to escape your prodding finger. The five-year old boy sat cross-legged on the bed, his mouth hanging open as he blinked tiredly at you.

“It’s a full moon, remember!” you said, jumping off the bed. You pulled back his heavy curtains with a dramatic flair, an effect somewhat ruined by the fact Jungkook’s window did not afford a view of the aforementioned moon.

His only response to your words a bleary stare, Jungkook looked on the brink of falling back to sleep.

Unacceptable!

Drawing yourself up to your full eight-year old height, you pulled Jungkook out of the bed and to the window. He yawned loudly, rubbing at his eyes as he dragged his feet.

“Come on,” you urged him, lifting him up to sit in the window sill, then clambered up yourself and undid the latch. “We have a ghost to catch!”

“Ghosts aren’t real,” he said, pouting at you. “Jimin told me so.”

You sniffed. “Jimin is only seven. Do you trust him over me?” The cool night air brushed against your bare arms as you opened the window and you suppressed a shiver, hastening to readjust your cloak.

Jungkook put his arms around his knees, nuzzling into the fabric of his nightgown. “No,” he finally admitted.

“Then let’s go!”

In the end, you never caught any ghost—though Jungkook did catch a terrible cold. Still, for a long time you insisted one haunted the orchard until the passing of years forced you to grow up and put an end to your nightly adventures, the full moon a beautiful sight but nothing more.

“Miss Jeon!” a voice called out across the meadow.

The wind almost caught your straw bonnet when you looked up from the field of yellow flowers. With one hand you clutched onto your hat, the other filled with the flowers you had picked. You smiled at the sight of Areum Kim, your neighbour and oldest friend. Though she did not always carry herself with the greatest sense of propriety, you could not fault her for that. Indeed, she was the one person in whom you failed to recognise it as a fault at all.

She hurried down the stone path to you, her sister-in-law in her wake.

“Areum, Mrs. Kim,” you said warmly, giving a small curtsy. “What brings you here?”

Doyeon Kim, a delicate woman with striking eyes, sent a teasing smile Areum’s way. “Seokjin received a letter from his cousin today,” she said.

“Oh, do let me tell,” Areum protested, clutching onto Doyeon’s arm. She turned to you without waiting for an answer, radiating excitement. “My cousin Namjoon bought a summer home right here in Southdon, and he is coming over next month! Not only that, but he’ll bring his brother and some friends from London. London!”

“Your cousin? That is wonderful news!” you said. You had met him once before at the wedding of Seokjin and Doyeon Kim, though his younger brother had been too sick to travel at the time. He’d been a handsome man, with smart manners and a dimpled smile that motivated you to keep him in high spirits.

Areum nodded with enthusiasm. “And you will finally meet Taehyungie! Your brother is almost of an age with him, I am sure they will get along most splendidly.”

Doyeon laughed, a bright sound she hid behind her hand. “I have yet to find the person Taehyung does not get along with. That being said, his temperament does seem like a good match for Mr. Jeon’s.”

“Then I look forward to the two making their acquaintance,” you said, always pleased to see your brother make new friends.

The month passed by with little happenings of note. An expectant vibration hung in the air of Southdon, anticipating the arrival of Namjoon Kim and his party; particularly the well-to-do bachelors from London he was rumoured to bring. While your hometown was not without society, the city of London always cast a spell of curiosity and marvel.

Your younger brother was particularly excited, eager for the opportunity to expand his social circle. Frequently you overheard him with your other neighbour, Jimin Park, crafting plans for activities they could undertake with the newcomers.

As for your father, he made sure to note their bachelor status, though he knew better than to press the subject. The generous condition of your family’s financial and social standing meant you did not want for attention from suitors, but it also provided you with the luxury to be quite selective about a potential husband. Jungkook had once horrified your father by suggesting you not be married at all and instead become the residential spinster of Aberton Hall, where Jungkook assured he’d provide anything his beloved sister desired.

Now, while your disposition towards marriage was not wholly unfavourable, Jungkook’s half-serious jests always put your mind at ease, erasing any pressure you might have felt. He enabled you to approach the subject strictly on your own terms, and for that you would always be grateful.

So you awaited the arrival of the much anticipated party with no frivolities clogging up your thoughts, no expectations begging to be dashed. Instead you merely enjoyed the prospect of reacquainting yourself with Namjoon Kim and the doubled efforts that society would put into their events this season. Already Areum gushed to anyone who would listen (or pretend to) about the preparations she was making for a ball to welcome her cousins. She only needed the slightest provocation to throw an event, and her brother tended to indulge her fancies.

It was when Jungkook and you were engaged in a friendly practise bout of fencing that a letter arrived—and quite timely as well, for your brother had been beating you quite handily. His skills with the foil were unparallelled in the county and so sparring with him always brought mixed feelings on your part; you appreciated the challenge, but hated to lose. As much as you enjoyed going up against your brother, there were only so many defeats your ego could bear.

Your mask tucked under your arm, you thanked the servant for bringing the letter. Jungkook wiped his forehead, skin shiny with perspiration, watching as you read the letter and took in its contents.

“Who is it from?” he asked once you had finished.

“Mr. Kim,” you said, gently folding up the paper with a smile that refused to be contained. “He has called upon us for dinner next week. His cousins will also be attending.”

Jungkook’s face brightened with obvious elation. “How fortunate! I have been pestering father to invite Mr. Namjoon Kim and his companions over as soon as possible, but he insisted they must be allowed to settle in peace.”

His fervour brought out a warm laugh from you. “Father has a point,” you conceded, “but we are lucky to have such a considerate neighbour. He is kind to include us while he must have plenty of catching up to do with his family.”

“Which they can do just as easily in our presence,” Jungkook said, resting his forearms on your shoulders as he leaned against your back. With an exaggerated flair you fell forward, pretending to buckle underneath your brother’s weight. He laughed and held onto you to keep you on your feet. “You must agree, do you not?” he said with the pleased confidence of a man already sure of the answer.

You put the letter aside and took up your foil once more. “It does not matter if I do,” you teased. “We have been invited, to refuse would be most rude. Now, let’s continue!”

“Are you certain? I would hate to wound your dignity even further,” he said, the grin on his lips saturated with mischievous pride.

“Oh, I doubt you would,” you said, putting your mask back on. “But you will have to beat me first!”

If there was one circumstance that allowed you a fair chance to beat your brother, it was when his confidence soared too high. You would not pass on this rare opportunity, too enticed by the lure of victory. Jungkook’s eyes glinted as he also donned his mask, rising to your bait. You slid into a proper stance and Jungkook did the same, carrying on your ‘friendly’ practise bout.

Once Namjoon Kim arrived in Southdon, taking residence in Bexlow House, it took no time at all for rumours to circulate about him and his companions.

Hoseok Jung and Yoongi Min stirred up dust in particular; a rich yet eccentric patron of the arts and the pianist he doted on. Apparently Mr. Min was making quite a name for himself in London (or so Park told you, whose aunt spoke of him in her letters) but he came from old money, leading you to suspect his growing fame might not be based on skill alone. Fortunately, Mr. Seokjin Kim’s invitation ensured you did not have to wait long for the opportunity to turn hearsay and speculation into solid fact.

You could not help but tease Jungkook for his palpable enthusiasm as the carriage rode you towards Mr. Kim’s estate, a shine to his boyish face. “I swear,” you said, “you are more excited about them than Mrs. Lee and her daughters.”

Unabashed, Jungkook grinned at you. “Of course! After all, we do not often have new faces around here.” He looked his best today, in a fitted tailcoat of deep burgundy and his dark brown hair parted with an artful tousle to reveal his forehead, while the narrow shape of his waist evidenced the presence of a corset.

“Of course,” you affirmed with a smile. Surely his eagerness had nothing to do with the deep admiration that Namjoon Kim had instilled in Jungkook when they previously met. Three years of age difference made quite an impact, and Jungkook had followed the older boy around like an imprinted duckling.

The past years had done little to temper Jungkook’s memory, his idolisation back in full force. But Namjoon Kim had also left quite a positive impression on you, so you could understand your brother’s feelings. You only hoped the man had aged well, saving Jungkook from bitter disappointment.

With Acton Field only two miles from your home, the carriage ride did not take long. You had a beautiful view of its apple grooves, a lush green after the trees already shed their flowers through spring.

“Mr. and Miss Jeon! Welcome!”

Seokjin Kim gave you a jovial greeting, a wide smile painted across his beautiful face. Your neighbour had always been an attractive man and years of a flourishing marriage had only increased his charms. Always a proper man of the house, he made introductions between the various parties.

Expectation lived up to reality; not only as handsome as you remembered, but the years had lent Namjoon Kim a maturity that suited him well. His younger brother Taehyung made a striking figure himself, with large eyes and an intense expression that bordered the line of intimidating, until a rectangular grin softened his face when Seokjin introduced him.

Perhaps the Kims’ elegance attracted company of equal refinement, you mused. Mr. Jung certainly matched them with his sharp jawline, the very picture of aristocratic dapperness. And then there was Mr. Min, whose dour expression could not diminish his delicate features. Skin pale as porcelain contrasted by dark hair and dark eyes that regarded his surroundings with a certain caution. Not the most charming of men, but undeniably fair to look upon.

Areum drew you into a conversation with her youngest cousin, pleased to finally have you meet him. You quickly came to understand the confidence she had in a friendship between him and Jungkook; he was an amicable sort, earnest and up-beat. You spared a glance at your brother, and concealed a sympathetic wince.

As personable as Jungkook was, he had never grown out of his shyness—a consequence of living in such a small and unchanging community, you suspected. You did wish your father had not kept you and Jungkook so sheltered, but you understood where his protectiveness came from.

Now Jungkook stood next to Mr. Jung and Mr. Namjoon Kim, a clear battle in his doe eyes. His instinct to disappear into the background clashing with the desire to speak with the man he so looked up to. Fortunately Jung proved talkative enough for three men combined, easily entertaining with tales of London.

Besides, Jungkook was not the only quiet one in the drawing room.

Mr. Min stood with Seokjin Kim and his wife, and while he politely answered their questions, he struck you as distinctly unhappy to be there. Mrs. Kim was the very embodiment of hospitality, her face lit up with a smile that ought to lift the spirits of any guest. Yet Min proved immune, eyes restless as they wandered around the room. Did he truly think the company so poor? Seokjin’s japes were not so horrible.

The rumours had led you to believe Mr. Jung was the eccentric one, but at least the man showed himself to be likable. You adjusted your expectations of Mr. Min’s skills on the pianoforte; for people to put up with his disposition he must be talented indeed.

“Don’t you think so, Miss Jeon?” Areum asked, interrupting your inner musings.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” you replied without missing a beat, effortlessly stepping back into the conversation. “There are some rich fishing waters on our grounds, I am sure my brother would love to take you.”

There, a seed planted to create a connection, you thought, satisfied at your efforts to help Jungkook. Taehyung responded positively to the idea, adding that Mr. Min was an avid fisher as well.

You smiled, but your lips were pressed together tightly. Concealing the dreadful impression Mr. Min had made on you, you smoothly proposed a group outing for the men. After all, Seokjin Kim would be distraught if left out.

You cast a furtive glance at Yoongi Min, but was startled to find his eyes already on you. With a sudden rush of embarrassment you dropped your gaze to the ground, annoyed at yourself for feeling caught when he was the one who had been staring.

Fortunately a servant announced dinner was ready, and the group left the drawing room to partake in the meal. Dinner opened with a serving of white soup and the atmosphere was easy; even Jungkook relaxed now there was food to distract him from his own inhibitions.

Once again Mr. Jung proved himself a natural entertainer, speaking of his exploits in London. “I truly believe it is the arts that bring meaning to people’s lives. That is why I became involved,” he said with a beautiful smile, a calm timbre weaving through his voice while he spoke seriously of his passion. “It gives a voice to our inner self, allowing us to speak of what we fail to put into words. Like the music of our Yoongi here!”

The musician in question stiffened at the mention of his name, then made a soft hum of acknowledgement and brought another spoonful of soup to his mouth, leaving his response at that. However, the group did not allow him to eat in silence, their interest drawn by Mr. Jung’s remark.

“How long have you played the pianoforte, Mr. Min?” Seokjin Kim asked. “Professionally, I mean.”

Min swallowed slowly, ducking his head down. His eyes were almost lost under his dark hair, which he wore longer than deemed fashionable. “Not long,” he said, glancing at Mr. Jung and not elaborating further.

With an easy chuckle, Hoseok Jung picked up the thread of conversation that Min had dropped so carelessly. “I had to convince my friend here to share his performances with the public! If not for me, he would still be locked up inside his house.”

“And perhaps happier for it,” Min said in a stony voice.

You and Areum locked eyes at once, though she was less successful at keeping her face neutral. But Jung burst out laughing, a loud cackle that sounded through the dining room and defused any negative effect Min’s brusque comment might have had on the evening’s ambiance.

In the corner of your eyes you noticed your brother, whose eagerness to contribute had been building for a while now, his nerves calming and smile broadening. You turned back to your soup, your own lips curling upwards as well, pleased to see Jungkook on the verge of opening up.

Your joy proved short-lived.

“My sister has some fair skill on the pianoforte herself,” he said, and the corners of your mouth dropped before you could catch yourself. “She plays quite wonderfully!”

Jungkook. Your doting brother, the staunchest of your supporters and biggest champion (unless it concerned fencing). Any other day you would have been endeared by his belief in your talents, even the nonexistent ones, but today you had to make an exception.

Your skills were acceptable, and that was the kindest word on the subject you could spare without risking yourself delusional. One of your failings as a lady, and one you were painfully aware of.

“Jungkook, you flatter me,” you said with a small laugh. “That is higher praise than I deserve.”

Your words were not enough to repair the damage and you felt the eyes burning into you. The local branch of the Kim family smiled at your humility, too polite to say the words themselves, especially since they knew Jungkook would not be happy with them for it. Only Areum dared a raised eyebrow of scepticism, but the gesture went unnoticed.

However, their cousins had no way of knowing your words were not a display of false modesty. Namjoon and Taehyung Kim gave you looks of curiosity, taking Jungkook’s praise at face-value. Even worse; Min’s glum expression broke for the first time, an inquisitive glimmer in his dark eyes as he studied you with renewed interest. Sitting directly opposite of you, his attention was an unpleasant weight.

But Mr. Jung trumped them all, offering the suggestion you most dreaded. “Well, I would be remiss if I did not hear a performance,” he said, a geniality to him that assured you his request was honest with no ill-intent. “Who knows, I may have to sweep you off to London!”

The audacious words sent a burning flush through your already heated skin, your laugh growing ever fainted. “I fear London is too bold a stage for my limited abilities,” you said. “Besides, surely no one is interested in an amateur’s efforts when we have a professional among us.”

You gestured towards Mr. Min, catching his gaze. Imploring him to save you from embarrassment, you poured a silent plea into your smile. He looked back at you, a feline quality to his eyes—though his current expression brought to mind a grumpy tomcat rather than any sleek elegance.

“By that logic I would rarely have the opportunity to hear the playing of others,” he said, sullen.

“Ah, of course,” you acknowledged, shoulders slumping. There was nothing more you could do except praying for the party to forget about this particular conversation by the time dinner finished.

A lull settled over the table, the subject closed by Min’s statement. You continued to eat your soup, attempting to savour the veal broth but your efforts came up short. Namjoon Kim gave you a curious look from the seat next to you, then his face softened in a sympathetic smile. “Miss Jeon, I see your father is not with us today. Is everything well? I was looking forward to meeting him again.”

The change of subject loosened the knot in your chest. “Sadly, our father had to leave urgently to distant relations in Antwerp,” you explained. Only two days ago he had departed, after a pressing letter from your grand uncle that he was needed.

“I hope there are no health issues?”

“No, thankfully. There is business to attend to,” you said. “Our grand uncle is deeply involved in the stock market. I do not understand all the finer aspects of it, but father intends to return before the end of summer. I’m sure he will have the opportunity to explain it himself, if you are interested.”

“In the meanwhile, I am left in charge of the estate,” Jungkook interjected, and you heard a mixed jumble of pride and resentment in his voice. As pleased as your brother was to be entrusted with this responsibility, you knew he yearned for the opportunity to travel. However, the indignation was only subtle, soothed by the presence of new people right here in Southdon.

Various members of the party made suitably impressed noises, and Taehyung Kim questioned Jungkook about the grounds, specifically the fishing waters you had mentioned to him earlier. Conversation picked up again around you, and you gave Namjoon Kim a silent look of thanks for his smooth intervention. A slight nod in return, and then his attention turned to the topic at hand; organising an outing together to test out those waters. Seokjin Kim showed the most blatant enthusiasm but even Min eased into a small smile, a reminder of his supposed interest in fishing.

Basking in the obvious happiness of your brother, you calmed down and almost forgot about the earlier incident. Though you could not let it slip from memory entirely, not with Mr. Min casting persistent glances your way (much to your displeasure). You distracted yourself by regaling Namjoon Kim with stories about the town.

He burst into a dimpled laugh as you narrated how a flock of chickens once upset the Sunday sermon, when they had somehow gotten into the church and one laid an egg right on the pastor’s bible, another building a nest in the man’s hair. A tale from many years ago, though perhaps you should not be as fond of the recollection as you were, proof of your misbehaviour during that time of your life.

Of course, you left out the part about who was responsible to Mr. Kim, but you suspected he knew anyway. Father always blamed the lack of a maternal presence for your period of rebellion, but in time you settled down and matured into a proper lady.

Dinner continued to the next course, with such enjoyable conversation around the table that you entirely forgot about the looming threat waiting for you.

Hoseok Jung, the self-proclaimed patron of the arts, had not.

As the servants took away the final plates he pinned you with a slow smile, sparing no mercy. In his defence, he did not seem aware of the fact that you required such a thing. “Miss Jeon! Is now the time for you to grace us with a song?”

With no means to decline without risking insult, you supposed it was. Though ‘grace’ would not be the word of your choice. You nodded in agreement and could only hope your smile did not show the strain behind it.

Ever the excellent host, Seokjin Kim led his guests back to the drawing room. Usually his wife would be the one who played to entertain guests; Doyeon was far more musically accomplished than you. She gently touched your arm as she passed by, though you did not know whether it was intended as encouragement or sympathy. Under other circumstances she may have tried to take your place, but both of you knew Jungkook would take heavy offence.

All too aware of the eyes on you, you took place behind the pianoforte. It was a beautiful instrument, purchased only last year as a gift to Doyeon from her husband. You rifled through the music sheets and quickly found a sonata by Haydn you felt reasonably confident of. The others spread through the room, making themselves comfortable on sofas or by the window or, in Min’s case, standing by the bookcase behind the pianoforte.

You felt a stab of unease at his presence behind you but ignored him best you could. Bolstered by the proud shine on Jungkook’s face, you pressed your fingers to the keys. You focused on the music, fooling yourself into believing your brother was the only other person in the room. When he listened he did not hear mistakes, only creative improvisations.

And today, you very much appreciated to be indulged.

Music filled the drawing room as you made your way through the movements, starting off with a brisk allegro. You needed a few measures to hit your stride, but by the time you reached the minuet you found a sliver of peace deep inside you and latched onto it. Then, the third and fourth movements followed easier than you had anticipated. Not your worst performance, you reflected as you returned to one final allegro, building to the last crescendo—and then it was done.

Your fingers hovered over the keys as the climactic notes faded in the air, and you took a deep breath before lifting your eyes from the paper to face your audience.

A polite applause greeted you. As predictable as ever, Jungkook beamed at you as though you had just given a spectacular concert, but what truly warmed your heart was the appreciative smile of Doyeon Kim, an acknowledgement of your efforts. The performance had been… acceptable.

“Mm.”

You froze at the sound from behind you, far closer than anticipated. Quickly you recovered, smoothing a hand over your high-waisted dress as you nodded at your audience in thanks.

“That was excellent!” Jungkook said, then turned to the man standing just behind you. “Mr. Min, what did you think?” He smiled expectantly at the professional pianist, clearly anticipating a raving review. Your smile was more rueful, sympathising with Min for being forced in a position where he, if not outright lie, at least had to tip-toe around the truth.

Mr. Min sucked in a breath and when your eyes locked, his dark gaze caused a swelling of vulnerability deep inside you, invasive and unwelcome. “Your left hand is not as quick as your right,” he said. “It would help to first practise with just your left until you’ve mastered the part, then play with both hands.”

Any relief you might have felt at making it through your performance unscathed was cruelly doused by the sharp chill of humiliation. Your neck burned with a cold heat, creeping further to your cheeks.

Silence fell in the drawing room.

Decorum broken, you stared at Mr. Min, incapable of ripping your eyes away. His brow furrowed until he broke the contact himself, turning his head to the side. “Of course,” he said stiffly, “otherwise you played well.”

In the corner of your vision you saw Jungkook, his chest puffing up and a dangerous intensity drawing over his face. Wordlessly you begged him to remain quiet and not cause a scene, but a saviour presented himself before Jungkook could formulate a response.

Seokjin Kim clapped his hands together and let out a buoyant laugh. “How about we enjoy a glass of port, gentlemen? Come, come,” he said, putting his hands firmly on Jungkook’s shoulder as he led the young man back to the dining room with clear deliberation. “Let the ladies catch up on their gossip!”

Perhaps you were mistaken, but Mr. Jung gave you an apologetic look as he followed the others. They left you with Mrs. and Miss Kim, who rushed to assure you of how well you played. But, you thought bitterly, only by your standards.

Not by Mr. Min’s.

“And did you know he has seen a hot air balloon ascension?” Jungkook said to whoever would listen. On this particular day, that meant you and Jimin Park. “Mr. Kim has been studying technical drawings of them as well. Is he not amazing!”

Park, Jungkook’s lifelong friend and neighbour, looked at him with an indulgent smile. His light brown hair shone in the soft sunlight that fell into the parlour, cheeks lifted into an affectionate grin. You could still see the shadow behind his face of the adorable boy you used to know, but there was no denying Park had grown up into a beautiful young man.

“I look forward to meeting him at Miss Kim’s ball,” Park said, and you caught a pinch of jealousy at tomorrow’s planned fishing expedition, though not explicit enough for Jungkook to notice.

A blunder on Park’s part; Jungkook was the host for this outing and well within his rights to invite others, something he would do happily if he thought Park was interested. But fishing had never been a passion of his, only partaking when Jungkook forcibly dragged him along. If anything, your brother would believe he was doing Park a favour by leaving him out.

You looked up from your book, quietly developing a strategy. “What a shame though, that is still two weeks from now,” you said carefully.

Park’s lips parted, frozen in a response, then curled up as he recognised your efforts. “A shame indeed. Only so many weeks in a summer, then they’ll be back in London.”

“And Taehyung Kim is of an age with you! It would be lovely if you had the opportunity to meet sooner.” You chanced a look at Jungkook and felt a surge of triumph at his expression.

Rubbing a fingertip at his temple, cogs turning behind his eyes. “Oh, Jimin! What if you join us tomorrow?” he said, a wide smile bursting across his face. “You do not care for fishing, I know, but the company will make up for it!”

“That is so thoughtful,” Park said sweetly. “I will gladly take you up on that offer.”

“I do have to warn you,” Jungkook said, his expression souring, “Min will also be joining us. I saw no way to exclude him.”

You would never admit it, but part of you was thankful for the bite to Jungkook’s voice—though another part of you was flustered at his protectiveness. It had been a humiliating experience, one you’d rather forget, and so far Mr. Min had made no efforts to make repairs. The other Londoners had been sociable enough; the Kims had joined you and your brother when you crossed paths on a morning walk and Mr. Jung had happily chatted with you after church. Meanwhile, Mr. Min had utterly ignored you.

It was enough to convince you he did not care about the effect his impropriety had on you, which spoke ill of his character indeed. You struggled to understand why Mr. Namjoon Kim and the others associated themselves with such a man, but perhaps they simply were kind to him for the sake of Mr. Jung or so impressed by his musical skills.

“That is fine,” Park said, his eyes twinkling. “I must admit, I have become rather curious about him.”

Jungkook sniffed dismissively and instead returned to the subject of Namjoon Kim and his many exploits.

Park stayed all through dinner and joined you for a round of cards afterwards. As always the stakes became somewhat heated, nobody willing to walk away the loser. Jungkook looked at his hand with an insufferable quirk to his lips, confidence glimmering in his eyes.

“I propose I deal the next round,” Park said tightly, lifting an elegant eyebrow.

Smile turning dangerous, Jungkook cocked his head. “What do you mean to imply?”

“Oh, I imply nothing!”

“Good,” Jungkook said, “because unlike some, I do not resort to foul play to win. I don’t have to.”

You peeked over your cards to watch their bickering, already formulating a plan on how to best use this to your advantage. The more they riled one another up, the better your odds at taking away the victory.

Park bristled at the accusation. “Years of friendship, and this is how you treat me?” he sputtered, eyes wide.

“He treats you in the way your game tactics call for,” you said, hiding a playful smile behind your cards.

Park gave you a stricken look that spoke of the deep stab of betrayal you had just inflicted on him. But before he had the chance to respond, you were interrupted by your steward.

“Mr. Jeon, I am sorry to bother you, but could I have a moment of your time?” he said, ever polite. Jungkook excused himself and let the steward pull him away. Your eyes followed them, wondering what was important enough that it could not wait. However, your steward did not look particularly alarmed which assuaged most of your worries.

When you turned back to Park he was smiling at you, all belligerence of the game faded away. “Thank you,” he said, “for your assistance earlier.”

You chuckled, putting down your cards. “You are very welcome. I could not resign you to a fate of not meeting the Kims and Mr. Jung until the ball.”

“Ah, the ball…” he mused, drawing his thumb over his lip as his eyes twinkled at you. “I do hope I still hold the right to your first dance even with these fascinating newcomers around.”

“Of course you do!” you assured with a laugh. “I would not have it any other way.”

“Good.” The way his smile transformed his eyes into crescents was almost enough to make you forget about his fraudulent tendencies while playing cards.

“It truly is a mystery to me!” you exclaimed, struggling to keep your composure.

Areum was all sympathy, patting the arm you had looped around hers while she accompanied you on your morning walk. The touch of soft cotton was a slim comfort, but it assured you at least one person remained on your side.

For just a few short days your brother staunchly supported your dislike of Mr. Min, to the point that it embarrassed you at times! But hindsight made you appreciative of even those moments, now that they were lost to you.

One outing of the gentlemen together and Jungkook had changed his mind on the matter entirely. One single outing! Ever since then he tried to persuade you of the man’s intelligence, of his sense of humour. The latter had you convinced this was all part of some elaborate joke Jungkook was playing on you, though you did not understand what his endgame might be.

“I do not wish to speak ill of your brother,” Areum said, on the cusp of speaking ill of your brother, “but perhaps he simply lacks a certain sensitivity. It is easy for men among themselves to forget the wrongs they have inflicted on us.”

You smiled at Areum’s loyalty; you knew how partial she was to your brother, but she did not hesitate to choose a side. “Or Jungkook is simply having a laugh with me,” you said. “If Mr. Min truly is the man described to me, he would have apologised for his behaviour, but he has not even deigned to deliver a letter.”

Areum let out a deep sigh. “Seokjin also spoke of his thoughtfulness, it is baffling. Perhaps Mr. Min is just the sort of man who only gets along with other gentlemen. Oh!”

Her face lit up as she spotted something in the distance. You followed her gaze and saw a trio approaching you through the fields by horse, and even from this distance they were easy to recognise.

Jungkook and his two companions all looked in high spirits as they drew near, laughing brightly. Perhaps it was because they were so close of an age, but the three had become quite taken with one another. Areum’s smile gained a smug edge, satisfied to know her prediction had come true.

As for you, the sight of them getting along so amicably warmed your heart. Jungkook had truly come out of his shell around the youngest Kim, his efforts rewarded with what would surely become a treasured friendship.

“Good morning, Miss Jeon, Areum!” Taehyung Kim was the first one to call out to you.

They came to a halt near you and Areum, each astride an impressive Thoroughbred; the pride of the Park family’s stables. Greetings were exchanged, and Jungkook enquired after the well-being of Areum. She launched into an animated explanation of her newest ideas for the supper to be served at her event, staring up at Jungkook with a brilliant smile.

You bit your lip to hold back your amusement, but failed when Park sighed. His eyebrow quirked up at you, then he chuckled and shook his head. He liked Areum well enough, but once she got started on any given topic… You hoped they had no pressing matters to attend to.

However, Jungkook clearly did not mind. He asked in depth about her meal plans, though his focus lay with her choice of meats.

Taehyung Kim observed the conversation with interest, his head cocked to the side. “Do you think there will be strawberries?” he mumbled, more to himself than anything else. Then he blinked, as though to snap himself back into reality, and turned to you. “Did you enjoy the mackerel, Miss Jeon?”

The sudden change of subject threw you, and you needed a moment to realise what he meant. “Oh! Yes, yes very much,” you said. Freshly caught and prepared by your skilled cook, it had made for a delicious meal.

“Min caught it, did you know?” he said, his smile proud as though he had been personally responsible.

But your smile turned sour. Ah. Min again. “Yes, Jungkook mentioned it.”

Kim beamed at you. “He caught two, while Jeon had no luck at all so he was generous enough to share.”

Was there some conspiracy afoot? Had the universe turned itself against you, when all around you everyone sung the praises of Yoongi Min’s kindness while he showed you none? “Yes, very generous of him,” you said with as much warmth as you could muster.

It seemed to satisfy Kim, and you quickly took advantage of a lull in the conversation to close off this particular topic. “Areum, I am starting to feel peckish,” you said gently. “Would you like to join me for breakfast back at the house?”

Areum hesitated but she recognised something in your expression and nodded in agreement. “Yes, of course. Gentlemen, we’ll leave you be,” she said with a light bow. Everyone said their goodbyes, then you parted ways with the trio. Areum was more than happy to continue her chatter about the ball preparations to you, and in turn you let yourself be distracted by her planning.

As agreed she joined you for breakfast and you savoured the light-hearted banter as much as the fresh apricot jam. But eventually it was time for her to return home and you sent her on her way, insisting she take your carriage.

And then, Aberton Hall suddenly was far too quiet.

With Jungkook still absent, you made your way to the drawing room. There was something you had been putting off these past few days, and you needed to confront it. You were childish to avoid it for so long, while you believed yourself to have outgrown that particular trait. So now it was time to deliver proof.

Inside the drawing room, the pianoforte waited for you.

The instrument stared you down, but you stared right back at its black-and-white keys. One deep breath, and you sat down on the stool, rolling your wrists and stretching your fingers to prepare them for practise. Face steeled with focus, you ran through your warm-up exercises.

Despite your lack of natural talent, you always found the routine calming, the habitual rhythms and passages a place of solace that emptied your mind of distractions and discomforts. And so you felt ready to continue onto the next step after you finished.

A familiar sonata rested on the music desk.

You refused to let one memory—one man—spoil your enjoyment of this piece. You refused!

Yet, your hands hesitated above the keys. His words, his criticism, topped off by his disingenuous compliment; the faint ghost of their memory sang through you. Your expression hardened and you took another deep breath, then placed only your left hand on the keys and began to play. A strange sense of spite had taken hold of you, as though mastery of this piece would somehow deflect your feelings of embarrassment back onto Mr. Min. That it would prove him wrong.

By the time Jungkook returned to the estate you were still practising, but he must have discerned your state of mind, for he uncharacteristically made no comment.

Finally, the day of the ball arrived.

Wanting to look your best for Areum’s event, you put in every effort. You wore a sheer gown of cotton gauze, a satin petticoat underneath. Aiming for fashionable simplicity, the dress was white with beautiful embroidery forming a delicate trimming of leaves, while a ribbon tied around the waistline brought an accent of Pomona green to the ensemble. Your high waist was contrasted by a low neckline, the occasion allowing for such exposure of skin. It showed off the necklace of small pearls you wore, a fond memento of your mother.

The maid helped you prepare, carefully fixing a pearl ornament in your hair that complimented the necklace, and she buttoned up your long evening gloves. Together you finished in good time, so in the end it was you who had to wait for Jungkook, struggling to decide on the manner to tie his cravat.

You took the carriage to Seokjin Kim’s country house; a ball was one of the few occasions you would bother to do so. Already a significant crowd had gathered, filling up the splendorous home, and Areum stood absolutely radiant in the center of it all, relishing her role as hostess.

“Miss Jeon!” she greeted you eagerly, taking your hands in her own. “I am so happy to see you, we will start the first dance soon. I would not have you miss it.”

At her words your eyes instinctively darted through the crowd for Park, though you could not find him at first glance. A string quartet played a lively tune, lifting up the ambiance even further, and you saw people making introductions and socialising.

Instead of Park, you found Mr. Namjoon Kim. He looked as smart as ever in a charcoal tailcoat with a green vest underneath. The dimples in his cheeks greeted you before he did as he disentangled himself from a conversation with Mrs. Lee and came over to you and Areum. “Miss Jeon, might I have the honour of your first dance?” he asked after a light bow, a cheery gleam to his eyes.

“Ah, Mr. Kim, I am afraid my first is spoken for,” you declined him with regret.

“Well then,” he said, “I shall have to wait for your second!”

You smiled at the ease of his recovery. “And I shall look forward to it,” you assured him, but let out a soft ‘oh’ when you finally located Jimin Park. Kim followed your line of sight and chuckled, then excused himself, presumably to find an available dance partner.

The bustle of people meant that Park needed some time to wade through them to reach you. Meanwhile you spotted the other newcomers, taking up much of the attention with people eager to be introduced to them. Hoseok Jung thrived in this environment, his smile brightening up the assembly room, but even he could not disperse the gloomy fog that surrounded Mr. Min, who shifted on his feet beside the sociable patron. Taehyung Kim had been captured by Mrs. Lee and her daughters, but appeared to handle the situation with grace.

Then Park stood in front of you, bowing while you curtsied, though he went through the formality with a playful slant to his lips. His eyes flickered to Areum, who strode to the center of the dance floor with Jung Hoseok by her side, then back to you.

“Are you ready, my lady?” Park winked, offering you his hand.

“For you? Never,” you teased, but allowed him to take you to the dance floor.

Other couples followed, including Seokjin Kim and his wife. Doyeon’s marital status meant she outranked Areum, but Areum’s position as hostess gave her the honour of leading the first dance. She could not have chosen a better partner; Mr. Jung proved to be one of the best dancers you ever had the pleasure of seeing. Effortlessly he glided over the floor, taking Areum with him in his wake. You and Park followed their lead, as did the other couples. The slow minuet allowed for conversation with relative ease, a fact you gladly took advantage of.

“It truly makes me happy to see you and Jungkook get along so well with Mr. Kim,” you said, moving gracefully through the sequence.

An accomplished dancer in his own right, Park accompanied you with poise and finesse. He smiled at your words. “Kim is a good man,” he said. “I’d say I was lucky to have met him, but then I’d be selling you short.”

You laughed in response. “And now you give me too much credit, Park! At the most I moved up your meeting by a few days.”

Though his smile stayed in place, something of the cheer faded from his eyes, leaving you to wonder what you had said wrong. He saw your confusion and sighed, shaking his head. A partner-switch temporarily broke you apart, but you kept your eyes on Park while you danced with Mr. Lee.

“I apologise,” he said once you were reunited. “It’s just… sometimes I forget you don’t call me by my given name any more.”

“No,” you said with a weak chuckle, no less confused, “not since we were little.”

Back when you were children. Back when Park took care of your brother even though he was only two years older; still a child himself but wanting to be there for the boy who lost his mother. Jungkook had been too young to truly understand what it all meant, but Park did.

You swallowed thickly, a sudden gratefulness swelling up from deep inside you.

And while your smile faltered, Park’s returned in full force. “I suppose I’m simply not used to your devotion to propriety these days.” He let out a soft giggle. “Not when I remember how you snuck frogs into my bed.”

“You deserved that,” you said pointedly, lifting your chin in a huff, but then you sighed, the breath filled with nostalgia. “I had to grow up sometime.”

“Hm,” he mused, “but at least you still remember how to hold a grudge. It is reassuring to know some things never change.”

The words came with a teasing lilt, but you could swear they physically struck you, causing you to almost trip when the dance called for another switch. Mr. Lee must have thought you a dreadful dance partner, so distracted by Park’s comment.

Was he implying you were too hard on Mr. Min? That you had to give him a second chance without any apology at all? You had not even spoken to the man since that first dinner together, a direct result of his avoidance of you.

Park was quick to see how his remark had affected you when you returned to his side. A rueful smile tugged at his lips and he squeezed your hand as you circled around each other. “Don’t pay me any mind,” he said. “Clearly I have turned into an old man already, sentimental about my wasted youth.”

You laughed at his dramatic statement. “Don’t even say that! You are younger than me,” you pointed out. “What does that make me then?”

“An elderly spinster,” he grinned, relishing your affronted gasp.

The moment of discomfort had passed, and you relaxed into the rest of the dance. When the song ended, it was with some reluctance that you and Park parted ways—until you remembered your promise to Namjoon Kim.

The gentleman waited with crinkled eyes as he smiled at you, and he led you into a faster paced reel. Joined by Jungkook and Areum, you laughed often as the dance took you through interlacing figures and sequences of complicated footwork.

As the dance ended, you were both elated and in desperate need of catching your breath. Mr. Kim brought you back into the crowd, where he left you with Doyeon and went to look for a new partner himself. She gave you a knowing smile; Doyeon had a talent for making you feel as though she was aware of your every secret.

“How are you tonight, Miss Jeon?”

You wondered how much Areum had relayed to her about your grievances, but when Doyeon’s gaze drifted over to the new figure approaching you, a meaningful look in her eyes, you wondered no longer.

Mr. Min joined you, though by the look of him you would think he was only here under threat of death. He hesitated, then bowed lightly. You and Doyeon curtsied in response, exchanging a glance when Min stood before you, chewing on the inside of his cheek and glancing off to the side.

Was he trying to swallow his pride, finally using this opportunity to make amends? You had been waiting for him to do so, of course, but surely this was not the right occasion?

“I hope you are well, Mr. Min,” Doyeon said, and you were grateful at least one of you still remembered her manners. The man truly unbalanced you.

“Ah, yes,” he said, his eyes flickering up for just a second. “Very well, thank you.”

“Don’t you think the music is excellent tonight? Areum worked hard to procure the services of this quartet,” she pressed on after a moment of clumsy silence. You couldn’t help but feel for her, trapped in the uncomfortable pressure between you and Mr. Min.

He nodded slowly, as though he needed a moment to process her words. “They are very good. Miss Kim should be proud of her efforts,” Min said, and finally his eyes met yours properly. For one brief moment, you were struck by the absurd notion he was about to ask you for a dance. Then he shook his head, and the moment passed. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kim, Miss Jeon, you have to excuse me.”

His departure as sudden and awkward as his entrance, Mr. Min was gone.

“What… what just happened?” you asked Doyeon, but almost immediately another abrupt arrival interrupted your conversation.

Mr. Jung swept in with a cheerful greeting, the unexpectedness of his appearance the only similarity to Min’s clumsy manners. “Miss Jeon, may I be so bold as to ask you for your next dance?”

Though he caught you off guard, you still agreed gladly; his opening dance with Areum made you eager to have him as your partner. He provided easy conversation until the next set began, while Seokjin Kim came over to invite his wife to a round of whist. You pitied their poor opponents, their combined skill at cards left not many who stood a chance to beat them. A lethal couple indeed. You had no time to consider them for long though, because Mr. Jung led you to the dance floor with a charming smile.

To your own surprise, you found yourself fighting off a spot of nerves. Until now you had only talked to Mr. Jung in a group setting, and his undivided attention proved to be intimidating. However, you liked to think your heart was not so faint, and thus you smiled back at him as you took position for the dance.

It all started so well.

Mr. Jung delivered to your every expectation, floating over the dance floor with a grace that seemed contagious. Just a light touch of his hand was enough to lead you through the sequences with confidence and you felt like you were dancing on a cloud.

“So, I noticed Yoongi came to talk to you,” Mr. Jung said, and the cloud rained away from underneath you.

“I am not certain ‘talk’ is the appropriate word.”

He hummed. “I do hope my friend has not continued to make a bad impression on you,” he said, his tone playful but a glimmer of solemnity behind his eyes. “I’m sure I speak for him when I assure you he meant no offence.”

It occurred to you that perhaps Jung only asked you to dance because he saw your exchange with Mr. Min. If anything, you had to admire his loyalty. You sighed, thinking back on Yoongi Min’s clear discomfort. Something resembling a pinch of sympathy edged at your thoughts and you sought him out in the crowd. You found him conversing with Namjoon Kim, near the tables set up for cards.

He looked placid now, clearly favouring Mr. Kim’s companionship over yours. Then the latter whispered something to him and Min broke out in a laugh, the smile transforming his face. It highlighted just how soft his features actually were, and even from this distance you saw a hint of his gums, the sight strangely endearing.

Your mood soured at once.

“Yoongi would not have answered your brother’s question so honestly unless he esteemed you,” Jung said, taking your continued silence as a signal to persist. He did not sound unkind.

But the damage had been done.

“I do not mean to discredit your insights of Mr. Min,” you said, bitterness clinging to your tongue, “but I am decently sure of his esteem for me, and it is none.”

The final drop had spilled. You had grown weary of people’s insistence to defend the qualities of Mr. Min. Qualities he surely had (to accuse so many of your friends and acquaintances of lying would be unseemly), but deigned not to show you. If everyone else spoke of his kindness, and everyone else was granted his good humours, then his problem lay with you and you could think of nothing you had done to wrong him.

In this moment, more than ever, you felt justified to hold onto your resentment of Mr. Min.

Clearly Mr. Jung sensed he should drop the issue, focusing on the dance instead. You regretted disagreeing so openly with him, but a sudden exhaustion took hold of you and it took all your concentration just to keep up with the steps. After the dance finished, Jung moved on and you had a quiet moment to consider your words. You sighed and smoothed out your dress, fighting the urge to bite your lip.

As loathe as you were to admit it, Park had the truth of it when he said you still knew how to hold a grudge.

The following morning you immediately wrote a thank you note to Areum, showing your gratitude for her hospitality as proper. A routine task, yet you found your thoughts so scattered that the letter took far longer to finish than expected. After finally closing the envelope and handing it over to a servant, you considered taking a walk to clear your head. Except the idea of being outside, where you could possibly encounter other people, it wrapped around your chest in a rigid tightness, constricting your breath like a poorly fitted corset.

After your dance Mr. Jung had left you in decidedly cooler spirits than he had approached you, and you felt the sting of embarrassment over your behaviour. At the very least you could have pretended to humour his attempt at bridging the gap between you and his friend.

You took a walk around the drawing room with your maid but it failed miserably as a distraction. You tried a book of poetry, but the text swam in your vision, reading words without ever comprehending them. For a moment you entertained the idea of seeking out Jungkook for a bout of fencing, but your desire to isolate yourself won out.

In the end you winded up behind the pianoforte, fingers brushing over the keys without pressing down.

You sighed, the irony not lost on you that the one activity you associated with Mr. Min provided your best chance of forgetting about him. And indeed, the comfortable routine of your warm-up practise helped you find a quiet space inside your head. By the time you had gone through them, you did not hesitate to go through Haydn’s sonata again, a test performance with both hands.

Diligently you had been practising with just your left, and though perhaps your own opinion was not the most impartial, you thought yourself much improved. The hours of rehearsal were paying themselves back; you would never be an effortless virtuoso, but your execution of the first two movements approached the level of a performance more than acceptable. Perhaps even decent.

To your frustration, you caught yourself blundering during the slower andante, little mistakes slipping past you as you struggled to coordinate your hands. With a deep sigh you stopped, gathered yourself, then returned to the part where your trouble began and went back to using only your left hand.

Patience, you told yourself. Patience was all you needed. Patience… or perhaps obstinacy. That was a trait you had plenty of, and its power had always gotten you very far. You played through the andante with deliberation, repeating every part where you faltered. But eventually you reached the end of the movement, finishing with a satisfied smile.

The piercing sound of a lonely applause suddenly rang through the drawing room.

You startled, but only for a second. This was not an uncommon occurrence; Jungkook enjoyed quietly slipping inside to listen to you play, unaware of an audience other than your personal attendant. “Jungkook, I didn’t hear you co—” you said as you turned around, then froze again when you saw not one, but two spectators.

Jungkook, as expected… and Mr. Min.

His dark eyes studied you carefully, something undecipherable in his gaze. If you were not careful you would be trapped by him, that you knew for certain. You quickly averted your eyes, your attention drawn to the envelope in his hand.

“You sounded great today,” Jungkook complimented, then patted Mr. Min on the shoulder. “Min has some business with you, so I will leave you be.”

Before you had the chance to think of an excuse to keep him in the room, Jungkook was gone. Fortunately your lady’s maid stayed in attendance, saving you from scandal, but even so you still felt abandoned.

Mr. Min cleared his throat, tugging at his cravat before he spoke.

“It is good to see you again, Miss Jeon,” he said with a light bow, awkward, and you quickly stood up to curtsy in return. “I’m afraid I created a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?”

He nodded, stepping further into the room until he hesitated and came to a halt.

“Oh, please sit!” you invited him, remembering your manners, but he shook his head and remained standing in the middle of the drawing room.

“I was, uh, I came here to deliver this letter but your brother insisted I talked to you in person,” Min said, scratching his cheek. “He is a very persuasive young man.”

Despite your discomfort, your smile was genuine. “That he is.”

“But what I am here for…” he said, then trailed off for a second, as though trying to arrange the words in his head. Clearly he had not expected to be speaking to you. “Hoseok led me to understand you believe I have no esteem for you.”

You winced, having not expected Mr. Jung to be so frank with Min about your conversation. “I apologise, I—”

The words slipped out before you fully realised what you were saying, and you would have been annoyed at the fact you were apologising to Mr. Min if not for the hand he held up to stop you. “No,” he said firmly. “I am the one who should apologise. I should never have spoken so bluntly to you at Mr. Kim’s.”

Your hands clutched at your dress, restless as you tried to process the situation. This was a good thing, was it not? Why the sudden knot in your stomach?

“Then I aggravated the situation by not making amends at once. I thought…” He hummed lowly, lips drawn in a tight line. “I thought it better to keep my distance from you, to spare—”

He interrupted himself, looking away for a moment, then met your eyes again with a steady gaze.

“No, that was not honest of me,” Min said, frowning. “I did think you would prefer to avoid my company, but I was also embarrassed by my mistake. I will not make excuses for that. So instead… I apologise for any hurt I have caused you, and wish you to know that I do, in fact, esteem you. Highly.”

His eyes flickered to your maid, who stood just behind you, as though only now remembering you were not actually alone. It took you a moment to realise he had finished speaking, waiting for your response, and you stammered clumsily.

“I— Thank you, Mr. Min,” you said, ducking your head. “I appreciate your visit, truly.”

The platitude was an inadequate response to his words, but you could not muster any more.

Mr. Min chewed the inside of his cheek, nodding as though you had said something more profound. “Thank you for hearing me out, Miss. I will leave you be,” he said, and began to turn away. Just as he stood at the door opening he paused, and looked at you over his shoulder with a pensive smile. “I hope this is not out of line, but you made some remarkable progress. Quite impressive.”

Then he was gone, leaving you to wonder just how long he and Jungkook had been listening to you play.

Something heavy weighed down on you, your hands digging into the fabric of your dress. You finally had the apology you so wanted, that you deserved.

So why did you feel so burdened?

It was not until much later that you realised he never gave you the letter.

→ pt. 2 💕

Big Bad Wolf | KNJ (M)

🔴 Summary: Your mom has always warned you not to venture too deep into the forest, for legend has it, in it lives vicious, man eating wolves. You’ve always listened to her words until one day when your love of animals gets the better of you and you end up in the woods, chasing after a wounded cat. When you stumble across a secluded cottage in the middle of the forest and meet one of these “Big Bad Wolves,” you learn that maybe not everything is as it seems.

🔴 Pairing: Wolf Shapeshifter!Namjoon x Human Female!Reader

🔴 Genre/AU: Angst, fluff, smut, fantasy, strangers to lovers

🔴 Rating: 18+ | R

🔴 Warnings: profanity, non-descriptive talk of murder, mention of guns/a gunshot wound, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, knotting, marking

🔴 Words: 19.7k 🥴

🔴 Note: It’s finally here - my fic for @hobeemin​’s Bangtan Grimm Event!! The fairytale my fic is inspired by is Little Red Riding Hood. Full disclosure here, this is my first half human/half animal fic so to anyone that reads this that is much more seasoned with hybrid-esque fics, it’s not the same as others you probably have read lol. 

Thank you soooo much to @lavienjin​ for this amazing banner!! ❤️❤️ ENORMOUS thank you to @playmetheclassics​ for literally being my hero and beta reading this chonker of a fic in a few hours after I finished it 🥰🥰

This fic has been a journey to say the least. Writer’s block has had me in an absolute chokehold these past few months, but I’m so glad I was able to finally finish this! Please enjoy my longest fic to date 😂💖

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230410 - Yoongi cover for Marie Claire Korea

when tae was picking his teammates and said he needed someone with a brain and he picked seokjin and jin himself went “you pick me for a brain?” and everyone started laughing and asking why and then jin himself said tae must have only picked him because of his luck. and that’s when i just sat back on my chair and laughed because yes kim seokjin the man with brains who was the only one who figured taehyung out back in that village ep and no one believed him although he had been right all the time. yes, kim seokjin the man who solved pretty much everything out for his team in that one escape room back then, and the one who in that sauna guessing game beat namjoon and got out of there before him when everyone outside had thought it was joon the one getting out during the first 30 seconds. kim seokjin the man who understood “carbonara” out of jimin’s iconic “lagimolala” along with guessing the right answer out of all the other members’ nonsenses as well. kim seokjin the man who on ep 80 had three different strategies to win the game and he ended up fooling everyone and then just amusedly sat back as they were announcing the scores and let them all believe they had won at some point, only to later be announced as the winner like he already knew he was. yes, kim seokjin genius. kim seokjin the man not only with the winning name but also with the goddamn brains. appreciate him. thank him. make sure to get him in your team, you clowns.

Spoils of Fortune

Neurosurgeon!Namjoon x Spoiled Brat!Reader

Genre: Arranged Marriage, Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut

Chapter 1.

A/N: This is the first chapter of the new Patreon exclusive book! I already love these two characters more than most things in life~! It’s gonna be a rollercoaster!

It’s always the wee early hours of morning when people tend to see themselves the clearest. When the morning haze and the dewy air coat blades of grass and leaves on trees, people can see their souls in their purest forms.

Sometimes their souls are cacophonously loud, echoing out and over for millions of miles. And for some their souls sit quietly in a corner as if asking to be rescued like some grand princess trapped in a tower.

God, you wish your soul made any noise. You wish you could see yourself so clearly, but your whole being becomes entangled in the morning haze and the dewy drops that fall silently on the land. It’s a prison half of the time and the other half is just silence like mourning.

But as always, when the early hours of the morning pass, you pretend much like others that your soul never actually existed in the first place and you shroud yourself in the daily mask that gets you through life.

Although everyday is the same, you wish just something would change… anything.

When you wake up, the estate is silent. Your wing is silent.

Apart from your groaning, there is not a noise uttered. The maids and butlers are usually talkative, you can sometimes hear random spurts of gossip through your gold trimmed French doors but today there is nothing.

Which means he’s here.

He’s home.

How horrible.

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Omggg this was so good💥 Please add me in your taglist. Thankyou!💗✨️

.DarkSide.

Teaser. Part One. Part two.

Pairing : dark! Mafia Jimin x reader (f)

Genre : oneshot, yandere, arranged marriage.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings : No warnings for this chapter tbh, just a lot of cursing by our y/n , hot and sexy jimin, mention of violence and blood, angry and frustrated y/n, annoyed jimin, slight angst, cold and super rude jimin. ( the next chapter is probably gonna be full of filth and gore violence. Jimin's darkside will be visible in the next part)

Summary : after the demise of your father, you were forced to marry a mob boss who was a decade older than you. He has always been ruthless and marrying someone like him wasn't your first choice, but living with him made you crave for his attention. For getting his attention you were repeatedly acting out until one day he decided to take the matter in his own hands.

A/N : this is purely fiction, I don't encourage these type of activities outside the fictional world. Please go through the warnings before reading it. But if you would like to read more please let me know. 💗

You were naive, Naive enough to think that love like fairytales exist. Often as child you heard your mother explaining how you were going to get your prince Charming who would take you away from here and will end your misery. You always believed that one day you'll going to find someone who would love you wholeheartedly unlike your dad.

You knew your dad wasn't too emotionally attached to you but you had faith in him that he would find the perfect Prince Charming for you. you barely knew your dad.  He was the boss of one of the biggest gangs in Seoul, and as his only daughter, you had been kept well away from the criminal lifestyle he led. Expensive boarding schools, lavish holidays abroad during Christmas and summer, a fat allowance every month and free reign with his black credit card that you never had to pay off. Growing up, you’d had everything you’d ever wanted – except for the love and attention of a father.

You loved your father, yes you did but you were disappointed when you heard his last wish.

When you thought of marriage, you always wanted someone different from your dad. you thought of tender caresses and knowing smiles between husband and wife. You dreamed of shy, newlywed touches and a honeymoon phase that lasted forever. You dreamed of being doted on, spoiled, taken care of, shown off – you dreamed of it all and wanted it all.

But your father had different wishes. He promised you to someone who isn't even completely familiar with your presence. He didn't even asked you beforehand. You were too shocked and hurt to even voice out your opinion in front of everyone other than your own mother.

“I won’t do it!” You had yelled, stamping your heels against the marble floor of your foyer. “Mom, I swear to God. You can’t make me marry some man I don’t even know, just because Dad wanted me to! For fucksakes, I’m meant to be going to las Vegas with the girls next week! The Vegas, Mom! Not a wedding! Not my own fucking wedding!”

“You have to.” Your mother had said simply. “It’s been arranged. It has been for a long time. You may not have known it, but your father and the Park family have been planning this union for years. To bring the two biggest families in the city together as one. It’s what your father would have wanted. And Park Jimin has graciously agreed to marry you. It’s all set.”

“Fuck Park Jimin ” You had whined. You knew him. You had seen him around the few summers you had actually spent in your hometown. He was older than you, a fair bit older. But he was handsome – every girl in the area was crazy about him. He was also silent, brooding, dangerous – the man in charge of the one gang bigger and deadlier than your father’s. “I don’t care what he’s agreed to. I’m not agreeing. You hear me, Mom? I don’t want this. It’s not happening. It won’t happen. I won’t let it!”

Your wedding was held privately, only yours and Jimin's family were present. You had to admit, Jimin was looking the finest piece of ass on your wedding.  Shoulders broad and fit snugly into a black and white tux. Blonde hair neatly gelled back. You wondered if Jimin is really forced by his parents too. Because every time he looked at you, he smiled. The softest kind of smile. The kind of smile which told you he isn't here because he was forced to.

You never knew Jimin personally, you've only heard about him. Even if he's smiling at you like he's the kindest person you've ever met,  you should know he is NOT. He's the head of the underworld's dirty business, he takes care of every illegal shit out there with a smile. He's ruthless, cold, dangerous and what not, you've heard every thing about him.

You still had a vague memory his, when you were in  your last year of school and your cousin had taken you to a club, showing your fake id to the security. You saw him there, surrounded by girls. There were rumours about him, about his bachelor lifestyle, how he used girl after girl and then discarded them without a second glance. Somehow, it didn’t make sense for a man like that to be settling down.

But Jimin seemed so assured as he said his vows, exuding power and charm with every word he spoke; even the small crowd seemed amazed by him. Which was crazy to you, because all of them must know that this whole thing was an act, right? But when it was all said and done, and Jimin leaned down and kissed you, pressed his pillowy lips softly against yours and held your jaw gently as he did, you could feel your heart flutter just a tiny bit.

Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad.

_

" Fuck, it taste like shit. " You whined as you tasted the kimchi stew. You exactly made it like the recipe which the maid gave you, but guess you can't actually cook. For once you wanted to do something like an actual housewife does. But it's all in vain, you can't serve this to Jimin. You pinched your nose in disgust and threw the food in the bin, washed your hand and settled down on a nearby chair.

Jimin would be home soon- you called him before to make sure if he's coming tonight or not. Almost every three or four days in a week, Jimin stayed outside because of his illegal work. You thought of making him dinner but now you are back to zero.

You have to think fast before he arrives. You can't serve him nothing, nor like he would care- you murmured bitterly. You walked up to the front door, swinging it open. The guard on duty raised an eyebrow at you.

" What do you want Mrs. Park.? " The guard asked.

" I cooked shit, so make one of your guys go and get rose ttaekboki for two people along with some cheese gimbap and make sure to add the glass noodles in ttaekboki. " You ordered and the Guard immediately nodded his head, gesturing to the other guy to bring it for you.

Jimin sure did have a lot of guys stationed outside his house – “Anything else, Mrs. Park ?” the guard asked.

" No, that will be all. " You as you closed the door and went back inside. That was one perk of being the wife of Park Jimin -  having about a dozen of his   men working for him at your beck and call. They’d get the food and wine and anything else you asked for, knowing Jimin would do something drastic like have them killed if they disobeyed.

You wonder if they knew what happens inside the house.

Jimin isn't really fond of you. He made sure to let you know that when you guys returned back from your wedding. As depressing as it sounded. You didn’t even know why you were bothering to ensure there was food for him when he got home. Because he had let you know from the moment that he married you, he hated your guts.

When you first arrived here, after your wedding you still remember his actions. You had grown up with money but it was nothing compared to how lavish Jimin's house was. He had pools, tennis courts, an indoor cinema, he practically lived in a palace. And he had stood to the side, hands in his pocket and an unreadable expression on his face and you on the other hand were feeling giddy to see such luxury.

Your room’s on the second floor, third door.” Jimin had said curtly. “All your suitcases have been unpacked. The maids are in their quarters downstairs if you need anything else.” And then he had left. Without another word. Just turned on his heel and walked out the door, probably to attend to some type of his wicked business – on his wedding night no less.

And three months later, it was still more of the same. Jimin barely looked at you, barely spoke a word to you unless he really had to. You hadn’t even seen the inside of his bedroom, and he had never stepped foot inside yours. Your bedroom which was all soft pastel coloured and girly, fluffy  rug and vanity table and everything. You wondered if he’d ordered it to be decorated exactly to your taste, thinking it was what you’d like – which it was – but no. Jimin barely knew you, he hadn’t even tried to get to know you.

The only time Jimin did act like a normal, nice and loving husband was in public. In the eyes of other people, he was perfect, doting, amazing. Often, you’d go to events with him, club appearances or charity galas thrown by his business partners – fronts for more money laundering, undoubtedly, not that Jimin ever shared any inside knowledge about his business with you.

And you’d be on his arm at those galas, dressed in some expensive dress you’d bought with his money, letting him parade you around with his large hand on the small of your back. And you had to give Jimin props for his acting skills, because he’d look at you with sparkling black eyes that actually looked like they were in love – how did he even do that? – and he’d introduce you as his wife, he’d kiss you, whisper softly to you, tuck your hair behind your ear. And everyone would smile and congratulate you both on being such a beautiful couple.

And then you would come home, and he would go to his room and you would go to yours. No words spoken. No more touches. No more smiles. Not even a look.

So you couldn't understand why we're you stressing yourself for him. You shouldn't care if he's well fed or not. Three months into the marriage and you can't believe nothing has changed, and you don't think it'll ever change.

But still you try, wearing a cute blue knee length dress, bought by of course Jimin's card now, styled your hair in a cute messy bun and few strands of your hair were falling on your face which made you look cute tbh.

You wish that Jimin might today notice and realise that, oh my wife is looking actually cute and hot and maybe i should treat her more like a wife or maybe a human atleast......... You thought bitterly.

The doorbell rang. It was one of Jimin’s guys, a bag of food in his hand. He handed it to you quickly, barely making eye contact with you before scurrying away. That was another thing. Ever since you’d married Jimin, no other man ever looked your way. Which sucked, because you had liked the attention. And it wasn’t like you were getting any from your husband.

You had just finished setting the table when his Highness came home. Jimin was imposing as he walked in through the door, acting like he owned the place – which he did. He had on a white dress shirt, collar button undone and sleeves rolled up, and specks of suspicious red dotting the otherwise pristine white fabric. He had his suit jacket scrunched up in his hand, and his blonde hair looked tousled, like he’d run his hand through it many times throughout the day.

He looked like he’d come straight home after torturing some poor somebody, but you had to admit he still looked unreal. He always looked handsome.

" Hyung, I don't want to deal with that shit right now. I have a lot to deal with already, just take care of it and I'm not repeating myself. " Jimin was obviously talking to someone while he walked towards you.  It was pretty normal for you now, just some criminal men talking about criminal shit everyday which you found plainly boring.

Once Jimin finished talking, you looked up then only. God, you would stop breathing if he continued to run his hand through his already messy hair. Words caught up in your throat as he quirked an eyebrow.

"Do you want to say something? " Jimin asked as he tossed his jacket on the sofa and wiped his sweat from his forehead.

" You must be hungry, I ordered the food. Have some. " You said as you tried looking somewhere else other than him. You practically cringed because  of your wavering tone.

Jimin threw a glance towards you and then sat on the on the chair.

" I have some people coming over tonight.” He said, surveying the food, the kitchen, the fridge, the floor, and then gracing you with eye contact that lasted about two seconds before it was back on the food again, “You need to be inside your room around 9pm. Get all you need from downstairs before then. Don’t come down here after that, got it?”

He said and he didn't even waited for you to respond, instead picking up his plate and heading down towards the office. His office, where he practically lived. Where he would go disappear whenever he chose to stay at home and you hated the fact that he doesn't give two shits about you.

" Are you Fucking serious.? Huh? " You said as you stood abruptly from your chair making a skeech noice. Jimin stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at you.

What the fuck is his problem? You can't fucking believe him. Is he doing this on purpose? Making you loose your mind? You don't even fucking know at this point.

" What do you think of yourself? Are you my dad? Ordering me shits around. You can't just lock me in my room every fucking time jimin. It's also my fuckin house. " You raised your voice as you walked towards him.

" Watch your tone y/n. You won't like to cross your limits. " Jimin's eyes flashed warningly, his tone authoritative yet somehow still nonchalant. As if he was speaking to one of his subordinates, rather than his own wife. “And I’m serious. Grab your things and go to your room before 9pm.” He said as he continued walking towards the hall, you followed him. You can't muffle your thoughts this time.

" Why, why the fuck do you want me to stay in my room after 9pm . What, is your other whore gonna be around? Is this the reason park? " You asked sarcastically really letting it go with the expletives. God. He made you so angry – marching into the house, not even thanking you for the food – it was takeout, but still he should have thanked you- and then ordering you to go to your room like you were five fucking years old.

" Don't you dare talk like that to me love.” Jimin eyed you annoyingly because you could say that you were crossing your limits, and as if on cue, his phone began buzzing in his pocket. It was probably some cranky drug lord on the other end, since those were the type of people you knew he worked with on a regular basis. " I don't have time for this drama of yours right now but I'll talk to you later about this. " He ran his hand through his hair for the 6-7 time annoyingly before turning his heels back.

He twisted the knob of his office door and said, " Don't make me repeat myself y/n. Go to your room before 9pm or else you'll regret it. " And with that he disappeared in his office.

Fuck him. You thought, stewing and swearing as you stomped your way up the stairs. Tears stinging your eyes as you marched towards your room. Out of sheer irritation and spite, you took out your phone out and quickly bought one necklace and anklet of Cartier along with 3 heels from Manolo Blahnik, rapidly typing out Jimin's card information before you could change your mind. The notification from his bank would probably piss him off, but it wouldn’t really make a dent on his bank balance. No. This wasn’t enough. You wanted to push him even further.

It seemed like the only time Jimin spoke more than two words to you was when he was ordering you or angry at you. Well. You could give him something to get angry over. You could give him plenty to get angry over. No more playing at caring little housewife. It was time to get creative.

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