#bts seokjin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chimcess · 1 month ago

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Lady's Honor || ksj

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.

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smoothlikealikeasnake · 6 months ago

Text

Strawberry Princess - Chapter Four “Matted Tails and Soft Lips”

Pairing - Ot7 BTS x Reader

Genre - Hybrid!Au , Hybrid BTS x Hybrid Reader, fluff, angst, eventual smut, slow burn? , alternative reality , strangers to lovers , strangers to friends, friends to lovers

Warnings - so much fluff, teasing, suggestive, so much tension, slightly sexual, anxious thoughts, lmk if there’s anything else!

Summary - When a certain hybrid starts to appear whenever Jungkook is at the gym, an immediate pull is felt between the two and their eventual friendship soon is spread to the rest of his pack.

Previous Next Overview

Since the first meeting, things had gone back to the normal schedule of Jungkook and Y/n’s daily meeting at the gym with some additional outside meet-ups where different members of Jk’s pack had attended too. Y/n had met up with every single member of his pack atleast twice since and everyone had grown more comfortable. They had all since experienced Y/n’s more playful side, far from her shy and meek side. Like when Jimin thought it’d be funny to jokingly dangle a rattling toy infront of her back and forth and instead of going for the toy, he found himself being the target, ending up with Y/n very happily ontop of him before taking the toy and walking off as if it was nothing, leaving him in a state of shock on the living room floor. Or when Jin asked for her opinion on some strawberry cream he’d made to go with dessert and instead of just placing it in her mouth, he purposely smudged it on her nose so she took her spoon and wiped a large chunk onto his own cheek before spinning on her heel and running off giggling, finding Hoseok who wiped off her nose and hid her telling Jin she wasn’t in the room despite the sweet strawberries all around. It had all gone well but they had yet to all meet up at the same time.

That’s why Namjoon took it upon himself to organise for all of them to go out for dinner at the packs favohrite restaurant where they could also have a few drinks if they fancied it. That’s how Jungkook added the entire pack and Y/n to a groupchat where they invited her to dinner the following Friday. She happily agreed and carried on with her regular days but grew increasingly more worried about where they were going, what she would wear, the impression she had to make, the possibilities of things to consider kept piling and left her spiralling.

That’s how it came to the Tuesday morning, the week of the dinner, Jungkook was at the gym as usual and he had a special present in the car from one very particular fashion designer to give to Y/n. He had already finished his warm up when he spotted Y/n making her way over, water bottle in hand and smile lighting up the room. Jungkook immediately noticed her scent was slightly sweeter than usual and was surprised as the first thing she did when she got over was wrap him in a tight hug, not even able to return it as she trapped him in before greeting him and smiling up again.

“How’s my Y/nie been?” - Jungkook beamed as she let go and handed him the bottle

“You only saw me yesterday Kook and we’ve been texting you know I’ve been good” - her words however contradicted the her plump bottom lip, swollen and red from her biting it mostly likely from anxiety, she started to nibble at it again after she finished talking and Jungkook quickly realised she must be getting overstimulated by something or multiple things so he made a quick decision to change the setting to something new for her to focus on.

“You know I really feel like going to the pool, you want to come?” Jungkook asked as he looked down at the curious kitty who didn’t even know the gym had a pool, it made sense because it was on the lowest floor and not many people knew about it so it was always empty. Before she could answer she watched and felt as Jungkook rested her hand under her chin to tilt it up and used him thumb to pull her plump lip from between her teeth leaving her slightly mouth slightly agape from shock and the flustered feeling that flooded her body. She didn’t trust her words to be coherent so all she did was nod and grab onto Jungkooks inked arm, tight enough to show she wasn’t letting go until they left and he just smiled at her antics, hoping to soothe her.

“Let’s just grab my bag then yeah? Are you okay to come now?” - He looked up across the room to find Y/n’s friend was nowhere in sight, he didn’t dwell long as a sound of approval fell from y/n’s lips and she leant in further so he hurried his movements before guiding them out of the door.

‘Did she just come for me?’ He couldn’t help but wonder.

———————————————————————————

The journey to the indoor pool was short but Y/n didn’t let go of Jungkooks arm once and he had no complaints when he pushed open the glass door and felt the warm air hit him as he took in the beautiful room. The room was dimly lit with LEDs in the wall, brick and stone designs around with beautiful decoration all over, the room was truly a treasure to those who knew about it.

Jungkook led Y/n towards two lounge beds where he placed his bag on one and gently pushed on Y/n’s shoulders to sit her on the other which snapped her out of the trance she had dropped into as she looked around in awe.

“This is beautiful, do you come here a lot?” - Y/n asked, mouth slightly agape as she looked around

“Not as often as I’d like, I forget about it existing a lot to be honest” - Jungkook

“Are you getting in?” - He continued as he looked at her curiously

She grew shy at that, the idea of being in a bikini infront of him making her flush

“I don’t have a bikini with me so I won’t” - she was glad that’s all she really had to say as Jungkook had began pulling off his shirt and revealing his chiselled torso, huge biceps and the full extend of his arm tattoos which she followed down his chest to his waist before they disappeared beneath the band of his shorts, she admired the abs that lead into his defined v-line and faint trail of hair before she couldn’t help but wonder as she looked-

“That’s too bad, next time being one, it’ll be fun” - Jungkooks words had her snapping her eyes to his face, mouth agape for a different reason to before this time, his words definitely weren’t helping her case as she was flustered, incredibly attracted to him and struggling to comprehend everything set out infront of her. Even if he meant his words innocently, she couldn’t stop herself from dwelling on the then, what would he think if he saw her in a bikini? Would he like- she had to stop herself there as he lightly chuckled before walking away and getting into the pool.

He looked straight out of a movie in that moment and Y/n couldn’t tear her eyes away as he got in fully before he turned back towards her

“It’s warm, come sit on the edge” he smiled up happily at her as she obeyed with a smile and took off her long socks and shoes, shyly moving towards the edge and dipping in the bottom half of her legs as she sat down.

Jungkook seemed to enjoy his time as she moved around quickly and got his hair soaked in seconds before going under the water and swimming up to her, jumping up and splashing her making her scold him as she giggled.

“Jungkook don’t do that your getting me all wet” - she giggled holding her hands up in protest turning her head away, his only response was to use her legs as the edge of the pool as he held onto them and shook his hair, water flying all over her making her protest even louder before turning towards him and pushing her hand through the water to splash him as much as possible in her position. He stood shocked for a second before taking his own action

“You really want to play that game kitty?” - he only smirked before splashing her twice as much with ease making her squeak and try to shake it off in her spot as she wiggled before doing it back, this continued as Y/n spun in her seated position around many times and only ended up soaking her entire body, tail droopy and heavy with water and definitely matted but she didn’t notice in that moment, full of laughter and happy with Jungkooks warm hand on her thigh even if he was splashing her.

She thought he’d finally calmed down as he got closer and held onto her legs but felt herself be hoisted into the air and screamed as Jungkook lifted her over his head, over the pool and spun around on the spot as she screamed with laughter and kicked her legs wildly, holding onto him as tightly as possible, so much her claws punctured him slightly but neither of them noticed.

“Jeon Jungkook let me down!” She shouted only to scream as he jokingly put her closer to the pool surface as if he’d put her down in that instead

“Put you down here?” - he laughed as he did it over and over, lifting her up and down and jostling her around above the pool before finally giving in and putting her to safety on the side, where she began.

“I’m going to get you back for that Jeon” - Y/n was still giggling as she threatens but unknowingly started to shiver as she sat in the wet spot. Jungkook noticed and moved to pull himself out next to her and once again momentarily distracted her as the scene seemed to play in slo mo for her. It didn’t help when her eyes followed as the once loose shorts now stuck tightly to the rest of his figure, deliciously built thighs and a surprisingly plump ass and once again her eyes travelled to his front just below that devilish vline that had somehow ended up right infront of her face- her eyes snapped up as a towel was offered infront of her face and a hand to pull her up, she took Jungkooks hand that almost made her fly inti the air and slip if it hadn’t of been for the steadying wrap around her waist once she was set down. He placed the soft towel around her before using his own to dry himself off as best as possible. He quickly realised the two would be soaked in the car still and he had yet to give Y/n her present.

“Put this on Y/nie, I’ll drive you home, there’s a present for you in the car” - Jungkook handed her his shirt from earlier before as he got his own out of his gym bag, he thought she might like the one that smelled stronger of his scent and she definitely did, taking a big sniff of it once it was in her hands before thanking him. He turned around to give her some privacy to change, it wasn’t ideal as her skirt would still be wet but the shirt would cover it and make it more comfortable, she could even take off her skirt and no one would know the shirt would be that big on her. When she signalled that it was fine to turn around it seemed that’s exactly what she did as she drowned in the black shirt he gave her , it only slightly tightened around her chest before flowing out and falling just above her knees, in her hands was a neatly folded top and skirt, still very wet but he took it from her hands and placed it into a seperate bag before putting it away to take back with them.

“Ready?” - Jungkook asked as he picked up his bag and tried to ignore the amazing feeling that flooded him as he admired her in his shirt, it’s all he ever wanted to see her in again, covered in his scent so everyone would know that she was only his- but she wasn’t… yet? And she wouldn’t be only his, he’d be his mates’ too, they’d be each others, it sounded so good he almost felt like the smallest touch of her hand on his was going to set him into a scenting spree as he eyed her neck longingly, pupils dilating.

“Go on Kookie” - Y/n could tell exactly what he needed and she too felt like she needed it as she was sent into a haze from being surrounded by his scent, she tilted her neck to expose her scent gland and let him bend down to muzzle onto the sensitive spot, holding back a gasp from the sensation, Y/n had to squeeze her eyes and mouth shut to resist letting out any other noises besides the purring erupting from her chest and Jungkook moved a hand behind her neck to pull her in closer and nuzzle harder. He desperately wanted too use his mouth to scent her further but resisted and settled for nuzzling the now slightly pink spot.

Jungkook pulled back and caught a glimpse of Y/n’s face, feeling his body heat up at her feeling just as good as he did but he pushed that thought aside to slip his hand into hers and guide them towards the car , placing another towel on the seats for the journey back and settling in before they set on their way back go Y/n’s house.

Their now usual routine fell in place as they got into the car, a minute or two of conversation as they pull out before Y/n fell asleep. Their journey not too long before Jungkook was pulling up to her apartment complex. He woke her up as usual with a press to her slightly swollen scent gland and prepared to get out her gifts while she was waking up.

The two walked up while Y/n was still sleepy, only half awake as they made their way up until they got to her door, that’s when her own senses started to sharpen again, feeling the cool air in the hallway and the uncomfortable feeling all over, her damp, matted tail swiping across her back before she looked at the waiting bunny infront of her and noticed he too was practically soaked. She quickly spun around to fumble with the keys and get them in the door as fast as possible to let them in before turning back around when it was finally open.

“Come in?” - She asked, almost shyly but was reassured when Jungkook beamed at her, boxes in hand and nodding as he stepped forward to accept her invite. They both walked in and Y/n closed the door behind them as Jungkook stood almost stunned, Y/n’s scent so strong it had him lightheaded and revelling in the way it was going to stick to him. He just looked around the interior that entirely suited Y/n, it was a smaller apartment but perfect for Y/n and had a fresh white modern base all around that was decorated with pastels everywhere. It was the kind of cozy that was neat but definitely comfortable in every space, blankets and pillows of all kinds over her sofa, soft rug infront of it and lots of small trinkets in various places.

Y/n loved her apartment, it was cozy and so her but airy and quiet enough in all ways to keep her from being overwhelmed. She waited patiently as Jungkook observed with a smile before leading them over to the couch, letting Jungkook place down the boxes on her table before she realised they couldn’t sit down, they were both still wet somewhere, Y/n was soaking through the shirt Jungkook gave her in all directions, tail, hair, soaked bra and panties underneath. Jungkook was slightly dryer, his hair no longer dripping but clearly wet.

“thank you for driving me home and bringing them in and your shirt” - Y/n fiddled with the bottom of the shirt she wore as she thought about what to do. She opted to bring Jungkook a towel for his hair and realised she should probably change herself. She let him know before grabbing everything she needed, changing into some pajamas because they were comfy and quickly detangling her hair which was surprisingly easy. She came back in with her hair brush and a towel for Jungkook because she wasn’t sure what he’d need. She found him looking closely at all of her little trinkets around the room and he looked handsomely cute as his puff tail twitched and juxtaposed his built figure.

“Here Jungkook, for your hair” - Y/n handed him the towel before turning round to walk to the couch.

“Oh Y/nie your tail, it’s all matted” - The kitty hadn’t even realised her long haired tail was still soaked and matting; it had her panicking, quickly grabbing for it and feeling her ears fall straight back, smile turning into a frown as her scent soured. It always seemed to overwhelm her and make her increasingly uncomfortable and sad when her tail wasn’t dry and soft, she’d dry it before she’d blow dry her hair after every shower. Jungkook immediately noticed her discomfort and picked up the brush on the side before rushing over, Y/n in distress was making him feel strangely protective and he desperately wanted to make it better. There was one thing that came to mind that he knew might overstep boundaries if she wasn’t sure too but it could take a lot of weight off Y/n’s shoulders so he took his chances.

“It’s okay Y/n, would you like me to help? Jiminie-hyung always asks one of us to brush his tail after his showers and even blow dry it.” Jungkook stepped gently as he didn’t want to further distress the girl but when he saw the acceptance in her eyes and the silent nod as she looked up at him he started to think about his next move.

“Do you have any detangler kitty?” - Jungkook didn’t want to pull too much because her tail was even thicker and longer than Jimin and his could easily be painful.

“It’s in my bedroom, I can go get it” - Y/n replied, still trying to brush her fingers through the matted tail.

“That’s okay I can go get it, if you want?” - Jungkook wanted to do everything he could to stop this feeling she had so when she looked up and nodded silently, he followed her scent to where it was strongest and found her bedroom, decorated exactly how he would imagine, pink and white all around, cozy and comfortable, art across the walls and in the midst of his search he found what he came for, detangler. He quickly made his way back before sitting next to her.

“How do you want to sit Y/n?” - Jungkook

“How does Jimin usually sit?” - Jungkook blushed at the thought of having her the same but told her, having no problem with it if she wanted to

“Jiminie lays across my lap, he says it’s the most comfortable way to do it” - To that, Y/n moved and let herself fall across his lap, head on a pillow and the top of her thighs to mid stomach on Jungkooks thighs, she didn’t even think much of it but Jungkook was stunned at the quick movement and frozen for a second with his hands hovering not knowing his next move before Y/n handed him back the brush, signalling him to start.

Still flustered by the position ,as Y/n’s bare thighs and full ass barely covered by her little shorts are right ontop of him, Jungkook gently grabs Y/n’s tail, noticing the way she jumped but not stopping as he sprayed some detangler on the brush she gave him and started from the tip of her long tail, gently brushing out all the knots.

Y/n’s body visibly relaxed as she melted in her position, purring loudly and smiling bashfully with her eyes closed, hands kneading the pillow she rested her head on. It was only when Jungkook would hit a small knot that she’d tense slightly and he’d apologise quietly, he moved across her entire top half of her tail before getting a bit shy and regularly checking on Y/n’s face as he moved a bit further down.

The close you got to the base of a hybrids tail the more sensitive it becomes, sparks will shoot through the hybrids body from any contact on their tail but it is significantly increased as they get closer to the base. When you reach the base it causes the hybrid to become naturally aroused which is why it’s so intimate touching any hybrids tail, that’s what made Jungkook so careful and nervous when brushing Y/n’s.

When he reached the lower half, Y/n’s purring immediately tripled in volume, her face nuzzling into the pillow but she seemed relaxed so Jungkook kept as calm as he could. That was until he nearly reached her tail, a gasp fell from Y/n’s lips at the contact and her hips rose involuntarily before falling back down on his legs, her sweet scent nearly suffocating Jungkook as a wave hit him. It was almost as if Jungkook forgot one very important detail, there was an incredibly strong scent gland near the base of every hybrids tail, it started in different places for different hybrids but he was clearly holding the start of Y/n’s.

Jungkook swiftly let go before apologising and asking if she wanted him to continue, she had her blushing face buried in the pillow and let out a high pitched sound of approval.

Y/n was laying there telling herself to calm down, he’s just being nice don’t think like that. Trying to stop the noises trying to pass through her lips, she only let out loud purrs. His hands were so gentle and looked so different compared to her strawberry blonde tail everytime she looked back, it was ridiculously attractive to her and wasn’t exactly helping that he was touching and unintentionally pulling at one of the most sensitive parts of her body with every pass of the brush. She was so deeply attracted to the sight of him caring for her in that way that her focus was taken away from keeping herself calm.

Jungkook was still gently brushing when he moved with hands lower down, brushing the base and as he gently gripped her tail there to carry on when he stopped dead in his tracks, stunned as loud purrs turned into something a lot more intense. In her fascination, Y/n stopped holding back all the noises from before and the second he grabbed her tail there and brushed the base, her mouth dropped open in a high whine with her eyes scrunched closed, nothing muffling the noise as her face was turned out of the pillow to watch Jungkooks hands. Her body wasn’t sent up in sparks and moved involuntarily, thighs tense and hips lifting up, pushing Jungkooks hand straight onto the base of her tail where it connected to her lower back. Y/n’s eyes shot open at that as a clear moan left her lips, hands gripping the pillow under her head tightly as she couldn’t stop her wide stare at him as it happened.

Jungkook knew better than to move in that moment, he didn’t want her to feel panicked,embarrassed or upset. He pushed aside his own body’s reaction as blood flushed to specific regions at the noises coming from Y/n and grounded himself, giving her a soft smile that she didn’t return over her shoulder, eyes still wide. Jungkook just moved the hand holding the brush to let go, other hand still on her tail as he slowly pressed circles into Y/n’s lower back, hoping to both ground and relax her. It seemed to work as the panic in her eyes slowly eased into that droopy state Jimin would get in whenever the base of his tail was touched.

Her head dropped to the pillow again, eyes softening and the rest of her body relaxing into Jungkook. In return, he kept pressing circles into her lower back, hand kept still on her tail until she could tell him what she wanted to do, he tried to ignore the slight shake of her thighs as they were pressed tightly together ontop of his lap but couldn’t help the slight glance he took. He regretted it as soon as he noticed how soft her thighs looked, the plush of them spreading across the entire expanse of his lap even when they were tightly held together. They looked like perfect pillows, hand rests, headrests and so much more but he quickly looked away before letting his thoughts progress.

“Y/n? Do you want me to keep going, there’s just this little bit here left” - Jungkook spoke gently to her as she looked at him and nodded in agreement, he was surprised at that, sure that she’d want to do it on her own but it seemed his hold on her tail had shielded her from feeling anything negative and he was glad about that. Ensuring he was as gentle as possible, Jungkook rested her tail on his hand and used the brush he previously put down to gently detangle the knots on it. Y/n wasn’t silent besides her purrs though this time, she let out small noises at every move of his hand and pull of a knot, not in disapproval, more from the pleasure she couldn’t pretend not to have. Her scent was bursting off of her in strong waves that had Jungkook have to breathe through his mouth to hold composure before it intensified and even then, breathing through his mouth didn’t help as he could taste her and that was even worse. Even worse because not that he’d have a taste it would never be enough, he snapped his mouth shut breathing minimally as he continued until he was at the part where it connected to her back and thanked his reflexes for moving away fast as Y/n’s hips jumped up again, he would of pulled her tail if not and neither of them want to know what would happen then.

When he finished, he tapped Y/n’s upper thigh twice to wake her out of her state only to have to divert his attention away completely at the sight of her thigh bouncing just from his soft pats. She was too beautiful in every way and he felt like he was starting to lose his ability to deny his attraction and little did he know, so was she, his entire pack knew too. It was time for Jungkook to have a serious chat about next steps with Y/n with his mates.

As Y/n became more conscious she slid herself slowly back, moving her knees up to being herself back up and unknowingly putting her entire body just centimetres from Jungkooks face, she wasn’t bothered as she couldn’t ignore how much better she felt, not just from her tail being nearly dry now and soft, but from being taken care of, it was unfamiliar but she enjoyed it more than she should admit. She knew after that she would be craving his attention and touch a ridiculous amount but pushed that thought aside to focus.

“It’s so soft and nearly dry thank you Kookie it’s perfect, thank you so much” - Y/n happily threw herself into his arms, thanking him with a warm embrace and stunning him at a peck on the cheek before jumping up and focusing on the boxes that were brought in.

“So what are they?” - Y/n asked curiously, leaning in to inspect the fancy boxes

“They- Tae- dinner… clothes?” - Jungkook couldn’t form real sentences as his brain was trying to process everything that happened but Y/n understood and asked to open one to which he quickly agreed. The largest box was white, wrapped with a large bow with a small tag on it

‘For a pretty kitty - V’ Y/n’s heart fluttered at the words but she picked up his designing name, it made her curious, had he bought the surprise, or had he made it?

Y/n carefully pushed off the ribbon and pulled the lid off, curious as she saw white fur. She gently moved to grab at the material, immediately noticing the softness of it, wanting to purr just at that before she pulled it out further and stood up straight to hold it infront of her.

Y/n stood shocked as the soft white fur turned into a oversized, thick faux fur coat, similar to the one Taehyung wore when they met the first time, the white blinding and the fur perfectly soft, it was constructed perfectly, it seemed the perfect length and she wanted to wrap up in it then and there, not to mention how absolutely beautiful it was.

Upon closer inspection she noticed the tag in it, labelled by Taehyung and she found an embroidered message on it too‘ the prettiest kitty ‘ with the ‘V’ above it; she quickly realised he had made this for her, to her size, recently as it was clearly brand new and plush. She spun around with it in her hands and began to excitedly show Jungkook, spinning around him, careful not to crush the coat as she felt it delicately, she spun around like a princess as she laughed and he returned the gesture, secretly getting out his phone to record the moment, knowing Taehyungs chest would fill with pride at the sight of her loving his work.

‘It’s too much Kookie, so beautiful but too much’ - Y/n’s smile turned into a small frown, ears pinning back at her realisation, as she was about to gently place it back in the box, a large figure pressed up against her back and grabbed her wrists, pulling them away from the box to stop her. It all happened too fast from Jungkook pressing up against her to him leaning down to whisper in her ear while his thumbs pressed into the scent glands on her wrists where she felt her, making her gasp.

“I’ll let you in on a secret Y/nie, nothing is too much when it comes to you, we would give you the world, hyungs wouldn’t react as lightly as I am to you rejecting a gift because it’s ‘too much’” - Something had changed in Jungkooks voice as he whispered, body pressing impossibly close and thumbs applying more pressure, she realised it was his Busan satoori , thick on his tongue as his warm breath tickled her ear. She practically melted on the spot as she clocked his words, nothing is too much? Why would they feel like that? All of them… and then the realisation at the rest of his words set in. If this was reacting lightly, while she should deny it, Y/n really wanted to know how the rest of them reacted, it had blood rushing to her cheeks and her breath hitching.

“You understand, don’t you Y/nie?” - She thought he was finished until he said that, a high pitched noise of approval calling from her lips with her head nodding. She felt like she could finally breathe for a second as he started to pull away from her back until he leant in to whisper again

“Good girl, now go open the rest.” - the praise had a gasp leaving Y/n, her knees buckling slightly and butterflies filling her stomach but Jungkook switched up immediately, stepping back with a bit smile, his duality confused her but she had to push that thought aside as he asked her of something.

“Put it on” - Jungkook beamed at her as he said, she silently obeyed and put on the glamourous coat, it fit perfectly for her, oversized in the best way and it made her feel more luxurious than she ever had

“I love it.” - It’s all she could say as Jungkook could tell she felt so much more about it and encouraged her to open the next box, more nervous about if she’d like this one as much

The second box is smaller but just as beautifully packaged, a large bow and ribbon across it which she carefully removed, this one addressed from Jimin

‘Red will definitely be your colour - Jimin’

It had her curiosity growing as she opened the box and saw white mesh over red material and gently pulled it out, her eyes widened at the beautifully constructed dress before her.

It was red, a long fitted dress that loosened slightly at her thigh from a slit, it was both simple and complex, the perfect balance as a Matt crimson material was the base, a nearly transparent white tulle overtop that slightly ruched at the waist, both materials slightly draped at the chest area as it had thin straps to hold it on, when she looked at the back she found the tulle thickened into a large bow that slightly adjusted and underneath was the zip. The layers of the dress were connected but made it seem fuller with so much dimension, the red was prominent but somehow perfectly complimented by the white overlay.

Y/n had never worn a dress similar, it was incredible, she had never even imagined such a thing but she knew it could perfectly suit her, all she worried about was the measurements. Would it fit her? How would they of even known what size she would be? And when she saw the label, the cursive ‘Jimin’ with his own short message underneath ‘the first gift’ somehow she knew he had specifically designed this for her, in that sense he had also tailored this to her size wise but how?

Jungkook answered her unspoken question

“Tae and Jimin have an eye for knowing near exact measurements when it comes to clothes, you should try it on, I know he’d be happy to make any adjustments if it didn’t fit.” - He was more than happy to see her enjoying the gifts and knew the final two would tie it all together but admittedly was desperate to see her in the dress.

“I’ll go try it on now!” - Y/n was almost jumping with excitement, her freshly brushed tail swinging rapidly, smacking Jungkook as she spun on her feet and headed towards her bedroom. While she did Jungkook took the opportunity get his phone out and text him and his mates’ group chat.

‘She’s opened the coat and dress, she loves them’ - JK

‘Has she tried them on? What did she say about them?’ - JM

‘I knew she’d love it’ - TH

‘She has only tried the coat on, she’s so happy and she’s trying the dress on now’ - JK

Both of the designers hearts swelled with pride and joy at her enjoying their work

‘Just listen out, she’ll need help to do the zipper’ - JM

‘Tell us if it fits, tell us how it looks’ - TH

Jungkook quickly agreed and on that cue, hear Y/n’s soft voice calling out to him from her room, he walked up to the door and found her back facing him, long hair falling down her back just below her waist, the dress was on but not zipped up, he could see her arms holding the front up to hide herself but she looked over her shoulder embarrassed

“Could you zip me up please?” - Y/n refused to look into his eyes as she asked but he just smiled and nodded moving forward to touch the dress. When he got close enough her tail was tickling him as it sway, comfortably fitted in the small hole designed for it, before it moved to one side so Jungkook could reach. As he held either side his warm breath danced over her shoulder as he looked down, he held the two sides on her lower back and felt his thumbs graze either side of her lower spine as he held the zipper and slowly pulled it up. He could only move it a little bit before he gently gathered Y/n’s hair and placed it over her shoulder, revealing the rest of her back. His knuckle grazed her spine the entire time he pulled the zipper up and Y/n was a flustered mess when he was finished. He adjusted the bow to cover the zip again and tightened it before telling her it was finished.

She looked down before stepping forward, thanking him and turning around, not having seen it on herself before Jungkooks jaw dropped, she was absolutely breathtaking, the dress fit like a glove, it complimented her skin, her hair, her eyes, her aura, it was perfect on her. Only one word could fall out of Jungkooks mouth in that moment and it just

“Beautiful…” - Y/n’s heart swelled at that, not knowing how it looked but already feeling good about herself. That lead to her smiling and walking to her full length mirror. She really did look beautiful and she felt so good about herself, the dress fit perfectly, her waist fitted and hips accentuated.

The only thing newer to her was the cleavage, she never wore shirts with cleavage and having a quite large breasts meant that in this dress, they were very much out and she wouldn’t normally be comfortable but for some reason, she felt amazing about it. She was only going to be with the boys who in the last few weeks, she had learnt to trust with her life, she wasn’t sure why they got so close so quickly but she was comfortable wearing this around them, she was comfortable around them altogether.

While Y/n was admiring the dress in the mirror, Jungkook had a second to process the princess in front of him, the beauty she held and the way she made brought the design and vision Jimin had to life, he’d be so happy right now and he desperately wanted to take a picture but knew it would be better for them to wait, for them to have a big reveal. His time to process was cut off when his eyes refocused on Y/n, her body was soft, his hands always melted into her whenever he touched her and it drove him crazy but this dress accentuated every bit of her body, from her wide hips and large thighs up her soft tummy and to her large breasts, it showed every small mark on her revealed skin, every freckle and scar from her previous years, the documents of her life before them, she had stained his mind ever since they met.

From the second he lay eyes on her and it all felt too real in that moment, gifting her his mates’ special designs, helping her into her dress, brushing her tail and having her trust him with one of the most sensitive parts of her body and being comfortable enough to allow it all to happen, it felt right. It felt like they were meant to be, she was absolutely perfect in every way, every little mark on her skin was perfect, every time she would make her own marks on him by accident when she wouldn’t retract her claws was perfect, every little moment with her felt unreal. Reality felt like the most beautiful dream when he was with her; he was more than grateful, more than lucky, all he could hope is that she felt the same way but somehow he knew, within he knew that she did feel that way too, maybe it was the glint in her eyes or maybe it was the way she leant into his touch, maybe it was the way she let her hybrid surface whenever they were together or maybe it was the way she trusted him, somehow he knew.

His breathe was caught when she turned around again and he was so infatuated with her that he couldn’t hear what she said until she slightly frowned and said his name, he had to ask her to repeat herself sheepishly.

“Unzip me? Please, I don’t want to ruin it, it’s so perfect” - Y/n was so cute to him, the way her eyes looked over the dress in awe as her hair fell over her face and she used both hands to push it back, even her smallest actions were so cute. He snapped out of his thoughts as he agreed and walked forward, gently holding her bare shoulders as he walked behind her and pushed her hair to the side again, moving under the tulle bow to the zip.

‘She’s the epitome of perfection, of pure joy and beauty, one day I’ll know she’s mine’ - Jungkook knew he fell hard and fast but as his hands grazed her back and goosebumps grew on her arms as she slightly pushed into his hands, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

“You know, Jimin and Taehyung take it upon themselves to dress us all for every event, it’s one way they show their love” - He’d hoped she’d understand what he meant by this and when he felt her skin warm up, scent sweeten and tail swing faster, he knew she was blushing and understood.

“You all must look even more handsome than usual at every event then, I feel so pretty, I’ll have to return their love soon hm?” - Y/n spoke her thoughts word for word, almost in a dream in her mind, not even thinking much about how she’d admitted to wanting to reciprocate their love, Jungkooks felt her heart beating as fast as his own, rapidly thumping against her chest, it made him smile so wide. That was until he’d fully unzipped the dress and quickly noticed the fabric start to slouch at her waist, Y/n was so deep in thought that she hadn’t grabbed the fabric to hold against her chest. He worked quickly to grab the two sides from the top where the zipper connects and hold them high on her back so she wouldn’t be exposed, she still hadn’t realised until Jungkook called out her name with a ‘Careful’ it had her snapping back, cheeks flushing, embarrassed but also smiling at how much of a gentleman he was and how he had brought back that first time they spoke, when he’d told her to be careful as she dropped that bottle.

She thanked him quickly and looked over his shoulder up at him, holding her chest to hold the dress up when he let go, she felt the air grow thick as their eyes connected, anything around them muffling as they zoned in on eachother. Y/n captured his doe eyes as she studied his face, appreciating the warmth in his eyes, the hair brushing his forehead, messy from the pool earlier, the piercing on his eyebrow, his soft nose, sharp jawline, the way his soft eyes juxtaposed that dominant appearance he held everywhere else, until her eyes travelled down slightly, to the pink lips, wrapped in a thin silver ring on the same side as his eyebrow piercing, she intended to look away until his scent thickened, the soft linen smell travelling through her body until his mouth slightly parted to let his tongue past through to wet his lips and there she discovered a new detail he had kept well hidden.

When he licked his lips she saw the silver on his tongue, a tongue piercing, she didn’t know why but it had her melting on the spot, his tall figure looming over her, she felt herself slightly pushing herself up onto her tip toes to get closer , hands still holding the dress. Jungkooks own hands let go of the dress to fall onto her soft hips, he felt the perfect hand rests as his fingers immediately melted into her skin. He gripped hard enough to pull her in closer, she would of stumbled if it wasn’t for her grip keeping her exactly where he wanted her. His own gaze fell from her wide eyes to her plump lips, their natural tint drawing his in as they fell open the tiniest bit, they both knew what they wanted when she pushed herself higher and he leant down slightly, hands holding her hips tighter, he watched her eyes softly close and knew this was the moment he had been waiting for, his opportunity of confirmation. He could feel her soft, strawberry breath on his own lips, just an inch apart when he leant down, his hair definitely tickling her.

The moment could have been ruined by the loud vibrations on his phone, definitely texts from his mates asking about the dress but he refused to let it stop this. He made sure she was flush against his front in that moment and let one of his hands move up to cup from the back of her neck to her jaw, tilting her head even further up to connect their lips. It was like fireworks had set off in the both of them, y/n tried to push impossibly closer to his body, finally getting to taste the linen that would stick to her every single day, it tasted so good she nearly fell right there, she had already fallen in one way she wouldn’t let it be physically shown, or so she thought when her knees buckled but she was held exactly where she was by Jungkooks strong hands.

She let him take the lead, not even thinking about how this was her first kiss, she was more than glad to let him take it. She’d never even come close to a romantic or intimate relationship due to her reserved personality but she knew when she grew so comfortable with him and his mates that she wanted them. Jungkook felt her letting him take the lead and wanted to smirk but did exactly what she wanted instead of letting pride consume him. He kept it sweet, lightly dancing his lips over hers to ease her in, it felt so good to have that ripe strawberry taste fill his mouth and to have her soft pillowy lips against his own, perfectly fitting between each others. He pushed his own lips slightly harder against hers, keeping her steady as her body reacted, he didn’t want to make it too much the first time so he slowly pulled away. As he got a few inches from her face he opened his eyes, being softer with the hand on her neck and jaw, her eyes were still closed and lips slightly parted even more pink and plump than before just from the short kiss, he couldn’t help but wonder about how they’d look in the future, when it all happened again.

His thoughts were cut off when she opened her eyes, she felt hot, soft and so many things but one look into his eyes had her relaxing, she knew he didn’t regret it and neither did she. She wanted nothing more in that moment but for it to happen again but she also knew she wouldn’t be able to cope, not with the way she had melted in his hands, his thumb gently rubbed over her neck and hit her scent gland over and over, her eyes faultered slightly again. She could feel his grip loosen slightly on her waist and she fell a small amount to the ground from her tip-toes, he already seemed ridiculously tall but when she was looking up at him like that, his big hands all over her, he seemed like a god.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while princess” - He smiled happily down at her but her eyes slightly widened at the confession and his satoori that had come out again, her own voice felt small but she knew he heard it

“I have too” - the confirmation was all they both needed to feel nothing but pure bliss. It took a minute before they both recovered as they realised Y/n still needed to get out of the dress and Jungkook left the room to give her privacy, immediately texting his mates so fast that he was making every typo possible but they understood, it was a step that had them all stopping in their tracks and smiling, melting even. Nothing else was thought about in that moment, not in Namjoons office, not in the kitchen with Jin, not in Yoongis piercing room where he was planning clients, not in Hoseoks dance studio, and not in Jimin and Tae’s meeting.

When Y/n came back into the living room in her set from before they both smiled bashfully at eachother before Jungkook told her she had one more present to open, her hands were slightly shaking from the previous interaction as she opened the smaller box, finding a pair of pretty white kitten heels with a small tulle bow over the toe box that matched the bow on the back of the dress exactly. They were about just under two inches high, easy for her to walk in and a bright white, one that matched the fur coat, she was already stunned by the other firsts but these brought the entire outfit together it was amazing to her how they’d thought of everything and in the soles she saw the branding of Jimin and Taehyungs company, she traced over it in appreciation with a wide smile on her face.

Fully holding one shoe she saw a small handwritten card underneath, addressed from Jimin and Taehyung

‘We hope you like it kitty, you’ll look beautiful” - the short message had her internally screaming like a child, she wanted to get up and jump with joy at the entire day she felt like she was in heaven, she couldn’t properly express anything so she just looked over her shoulder with a huge smile, not even saying anything and didn’t even notice as he clicked a picture of her, heel and note in hand, sitting so cute as she smiled at him over her shoulder. He immediately sent to the groupchat

‘Our Strawberry Princess’

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Just know it hasn’t been proofread or edited but next chapter will be out very soon!

This chapter was very Jungkook centred but from here on it’ll be mostly Ot7! Please feel free to ask questions, request headcannons or drabbles!

Side note; who else is in love with Come back to me, omg I am listening on repeat it’s just so good!

ཐི♡ཋྀ

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