#goreum | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

namjoonswaifu · 1 year

Text

Chapter 6- The Royal Announcement

Warnings: female presenting character, mentions of abuse from a parental figure, mentions of bullying, mentions of the death of a side character, yoongi being adorable, namjoon being protective, namjoons eomma being protective, low self esteem, crying, mentions of a dog

Word Total: 4.2k

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Claps soon emanate from the room at the acceptance of the king’s proposal of marriage. Briefly glancing just past the shoulder of the king, you saw your two other contenders, standing there practically green with envy. Their faces contorted with anger at the realisation that they would never be queen. You had the power. But you didn’t care about the power, it was the love of the boys both in front of you and behind you. The boys who you had become so close to, that you felt if you were away from them for too long your heart may break.

Namjoon turns back around, and his eyes fall onto the crowd before him. Rustling is heard as people fall to their knees to bow to their king and now… their future queen. Eun-Bi and Seol-Hyun begrudgingly follow the audience's lead. Once everyone had risen again, Namjoon addressed the audience once more.

“Tonight we shall celebrate my bride. The wedding will take place in 50 days. I would like to invite my beautiful future queen's family forward. However, first I would like to introduce the two candidates who did not make it. Tradition states that you are now Kings women” he began, turning to face the women who now held mischievous smirks on their faces. Namjoon squeezed the hand he was still holding before continuing on “However, that will not be what is happening this time. The woman whom I will marry will be the only one for me” he carried on, turning back to the crowd fully “As you all may know, I have never had a… collection…” he grimaced “of concubines. And I will not be starting now. I invite you all to enjoy the celebrations. And I especially look forward to meeting my bride’s family” he finished. A sudden pang hit your chest when you realised Namjoon was meeting your father. You had spoken with the Queen Dowager about what your relationship with your father was like, and you didn’t know if she had mentioned it to the boys, but knowing her, she would have.

Putting on a brave face, you smiled whilst your family made their way up to the two of you. Your mother was the first to greet the two of you, a look of pride and a smile as wide as her face greeted you.

“Chin-aehaneun, I am so proud of you. I have missed you so much” she spoke, placing her hands against your cheeks, love radiating from her eyes. Pulling you into a hug, you allow yourself to take a breath of her scent. The scent reminded you of home. Of love. Of warmth. Of her. She was wearing her best hanbok for this occasion. The jeogri was a beautiful crimson colour, the chima matching the colour perfectly. Your family emblem is sewn into the bottom of the skirt as yours had. The goreum was in a beautiful white, a contrast to the dark colour of the other fabric just beneath it. After a brief hug, your mother took a step back, before falling onto her knees in front of the king.

“My deepest apologies, your royal highness, for I did not greet you first, as I should have. It has been so long since I have been able to hold my daughter that I forgot my place. Please forgive me, my King”. Namjoon laughed joyfully, crouching down to pull your mother from the floor, a smile so handsome that you felt your heart miss a beat and a smile crawl onto your lips.

“Eomeoni, you need not thank me. I would have done the same in your position. Thank you for giving birth to such a woman, my family and I love her.” he said pulling her to stand. “I would like to formally invite you to dine with the Kim family, where you will dine alongside myself, my eomma and my closest men. Please join us in the dining hall in around 10 minutes from now?” he said, his hand closed around your mothers as he talked. After receiving a nod of confirmation from your mother, he lets go of her hands and takes a step back. The handsome smile falls from his face, as he moves his hands behind his back. The briefly gentle-looking man, now looking every part of King Namjoon. He turns to your father, his face stern and solid, his teeth grit together. Your father, pretending to play the part of a loving father, takes a step towards you. However, it is not Namjoon that stops the man from taking a step closer to you. Its Yoongi. Both yours and your father's faces change to one of shock. Your father goes almost red in anger before he remembers where he is and takes a step back once more.

“My apologies Sir, I didn’t realise I couldn’t greet my own daughter” he spoke to Yoongi, disdain evident in his voice. Yoongi smirked at the audacity of the man before him. Yoongi remembered everything you had told him of your father from the times you had spent together since arriving here, he had also been told by the Queen Dowager, when she warned everyone of the turbulent relationship between the two of you before the ceremony.

*5 days previous*

The boys had decided that today was Yoongi’s day to spend with you. He had been the busiest and had the least amount of time to spend with you, and as it was his free day, they deemed it only fair that it was his day. You had received a letter in the early morning to meet him in the cherry blossom gardens, on the dock by the lake. One of his men would be there to escort you, just in case you got lost. You found out recently when trying to find a wishing well that Jungkook had told you about in the east corner of the grounds, how easy it really was to get lost in a place such as this, so you were thankful that someone would be able to escort you to the exact right place.

Dressing in the hanbok that Jimin gifted you, you revelled in the beauty of it. Watching how the sun hit the purple shades beautifully, and how it caught the glimmer of the golden thread that was sewn into the dress in butterfly shapes. Making sure to attach the norigae to the outfit, your heart filled with happiness and love at the thoughts of the time you had spent here so far. Sitting down you pull on the lilac beoseons and then place the purple gomusin’s. Finally, you turn and shuffle over to where your mirror sat, and where your ladies were waiting for you. On the table by the mirror were the golden cheopji’s that you had been gifted alongside the outfit you were currently wearing, as well as the earrings that Yoongi had gifted you. Your heart fluttered as you remembered what he had said when gifting them to you. No one other than your mother had made you feel as loved and as beautiful as the 6 men you met with regularly and the Queen Dowager. You had yet to meet the king for the final part but the men of his that you had met gave you hope that they would be as kind as them. Alongside the earrings from Yoongi, was the ring that Taehyung had gifted you. Luna, the puppy that Jungkook had gifted you, sat next to you, her head resting on your leg as Hwasa began styling your hair, braiding it but allowing some hair to fall in strands around your face. She places the cheopji’s in carefully, before moving on to her next job. Applying a gentle rouge to your lips, making them a gorgeous pink colour. Soft and inviting, you hoped. Whilst Hwasa was attending to your hair and makeup, Hyo-Seong got to work placing the jewellery onto your body. First, she placed the earrings in your ears, making sure not to let any of the loose hair knot into the earrings. Then, she placed the signet ring on your little finger on your right hand, the finger closest to your ring finger, making you smile down at it. Once they had both completed their respective jobs, they took a step back and smiled at their work. Hyo-Seong took a step to the side, retrieving a collar and a rope-like item. The rope had a handle fashioned onto it, and any loose hairs on the rope had disappeared. It was able to be tied onto the collar. Hwasa called Luna over to her, who upon hearing her name bounded over to the lady. Placing the collar carefully around the neck of the dog, she then attached the lead, before handing the part with the handle to you. You stood up, smiled at your dog and the ladies and made your way towards the door.

Pulling open the door, you saw a man with his fist raised. The man jumped and took a few steps back.

“Lady Seo, I am here to bring you to the Head Directorate, His Lordship Min Yoongi, please accompany me this way,” he says, bowing slightly and moving his arm to gesture the way towards the cherry blossom gardens. Bowing slightly back, you turn and smile towards your ladies before moving out of your apartment and following after the young man just ahead of you. Moments later, you arrive in front of the man who you had previously been told about. Min Yoongi, in the flesh. He stood by a large piece of fabric on the ground. Pillows are strategically placed, allowing for comfort as well as for being able to see each other comfortably. A small wooden table sat near the end of the pier. It held so many of your favourite foods, that you have discussed with the Queen Dowager or one of the other boys. Everything from your favourite snack to your favourite dessert was on the table. Another table just to the left of it, held different drinks, also, more of your favourites. Luna didn’t care to notice your admiration and tugged on the rope to get to Yoongi, wanting belly rubs from the man. Yoongi noticing the pull on the lead gave you a swift nod, and you let go of the lead, allowing her to run to the man, desperate for his attention. You smile at the sight of the usually stoic man, smiling a gummy smile down at the small dog. Your heart felt so full at that very moment. Seconds later, Luna got bored with the tummy rubs and went and laid on one of the cushions, lying directly on her back, paws in the air, soaking in the sun as if she was a human trying to soak up the sun into their bones. Yoongi lets out a short laugh, directing his gummy smile towards you, before holding his hand out…

“Shall we, Lady Seo?” he asks. You smile back at the man, taking his hand and allowing him to lead the way over to the cushions.

“I may have had to ask the boys and eommoni what your favourite food and drinks are,” he said nervously, taking a jug of liquid and pouring it into two separate cups. Handing one to you and then taking his. You both smile at each other and take a small sip of the liquid. A content smile leaves your lips once you have swallowed the sweet liquid. It was peach tea, much like the tea that is served at the Queen Dowager’s luncheons. Served in your favourite way, cold and sweet. You take another happy sip, before placing the cup down and turning to look at the man before you.

“You did not need to do all of this for me, my lord,” you told him before continuing “I deeply appreciate and love this, but it is not I that deserves this”. The words that come out of your mouth quickly make the man before you snap his head to you in shock.

“Why is it that you have decided that you do not deserve this? What or who has made you believe that you are not worthy of all the love and attention that you receive? Tell me who and I shall have their heads immediately” the blonde-haired man speaks to you, his voice serious and his eyes full of questions and… worry? Why is the man before you worried? It could not be that he has feelings for you, you tell yourself. Bowing your head slightly, you try to put into words the thoughts that are swirling around in your head.

“I do not know how much the Queen Dowager has told you about myself. So please allow me to tell you myself.” you began “When I was growing up, I briefly attend schooling, mainly on elegance, reading and other such subjects. Whilst attending this school, I met Yeji, my best friend, and my school bullies, who are also here, Kim Seol-Hyun and Kwon Eun-Bi. They made my life in and around that school a living nightmare, they would constantly taunt my weight and…. The…. my….. My sister died when I was younger, it couldn’t be helped, we did everything we could, tried every doctor, and every medicine. Nothing worked, and she passed away in my arms. The two girls somehow knew of this and told me every day that it was my fault, that the reason she passed was due to me, and that she never got any food, but that wasn’t true. I barely ate when my unnie was ill, I was always the one looking after her. And that’s when my father started drinking, using the money on beer instead of looking after his family. I tried so hard to keep my family together, but I just couldn’t do it. And those two… beasts made everything worse, to the point where I engrained into my brain that I was undeserving of love, because surely if three people tell you that you are unworthy of love that must be true right?” you spoke. You jumped when you felt a soft thumb touch your cheek, wiping away the tears you didn’t know that you had spilt.

“You are worth so much more than their meaningless words, you are worthy of so much love and you deserve so much love. They do not even deserve to be in your presence. You are an angel that has been sent down to show us what we have been missing and what we need in our lives. You don’t have to tell me any more if your heart does not desire to do so” He spoke, his eyes never leaving yours, as he continued to wipe more tears away from your rosy cheeks.

“Things between my father and I got a lot worse when unnie died. He drank more, and he treated me worse. He would come home from drinking and say ‘im using this money for your future’, he would tell me that his drinking was all my fault. That it should have been me who died. The night that Lord Kim Seokjin announced that the King was looking for a Queen in our village was the night that my father attacked me for the first time. When I came home with the news that the Supreme Commissioner had visited and told us the news, he told me that I would not be proceeding with the application. I tried to be brave” you continued on. Yoongi took a hold of both your hands, enveloping his large ones with yours. He squeezed them and you gave him a gentle smile before continuing on. “ I told him that he has no authority in this decision, that the law dictated that we must, or our family would be shamed. My mother was so happy to be able to do this for me. She told me to go and get myself ready for the dinner that we would be having with the Hwangs. And so I did, I went to my room to get myself ready and I had taken some of my braids out when my father stormed into the room. I had never seen him so angry before. I felt trapped… and…. And… scared” you spoke. Tears began falling down your face at a more rapid pace. Yoongi could see your eyes beginning to fill with fear as the story continued on. “He stormed in and told me that I was treating him as a child as if I was his parent. I was sitting down, so I thought standing up might make me safer, but he obviously thought differently. He lunged towards me, and he grabbed some of the braids that were still tied and yanked me to the floor with them. I remember hitting my head and then him screaming at me” you stated. Yoongi continued to watch as your eyes became more and more distant as if you weren’t really there with him. Almost like you had been transported into your memory. He moved to sit next to you, holding you in his arms. Allowing you to feel safe when you’re body was feeling terrified. “Even when I was on the ground he screamed ‘I am the man of this house’ and ‘I make the rules’. One of the things that hurt more than what he did was his screaming in my face ‘not a’” you hiccuped “ ‘a fat little girl who won’t even make it past the first stage’ and then he crouched down to my height, and told me that it should have been me that died, and I should never have been born and that I was a disgrace.” You finished, looking up into Yoongi’s brown eyes. Your eyes became more focused and then a light smile hit your lips “that's when my eomma came in. She grabbed him by his ear and dragged him out by it. I had never seen so much fire and anger in that women’s eyes ever before. It was truly a sight to behold. Once she had pulled him out of the house, she came back in and told me that I was none of those things that the man had told me and she held me as I curled up into her arms, My eomma has always been my biggest supporter.” you finished. Yoongi looked at you, and he didn’t look at you with shame or embarrassment, there was a look in his eyes that almost reminded you of love. He held you in his arms for a few moments longer before speaking to you again “your eomma is right, you are none of those things that the disgrace of man who calls himself your father called you. You are so much more. I have only known you for a short while but I know that I cannot let you leave my life. My life is so much better now that you are a part of it. And if I have anything to do with it, Namjoon… I mean the king, will make you his wife, and I… I mean we… I mean he, will be able to dote on you for the rest of your life. You are worth so much more than what he says, and if I ever have the displeasure of meeting him, know that I will have a few choice words to say to him” He tells you, his face stern, his eyes looking off into the horizon, making you giggle at his almost heroic position.

“Thank you, Lord Min,” you told him.

“Call me Yoongi” he responded

“Thank you, Yoongi” you repeated. “I do have a question for you, however,” you continued

“Question away nae salang/Sarang,” he told you, making you blush at him calling you ‘his love’.

“What is the relationship between you, the Great King and his other men? You need not tell me if it makes you uncomfortable my lord” you questioned. “Sorry I mean Yoongi”

The man laughs at your minor slip-up, making you feel at ease. He turned his body slightly more towards you.

“The king, his men and I, well…” he paused, taking a deep breath before continuing “we are together. Romantically that is. But I personally have felt that we weren’t quite complete like there was something or someone missing. And I can’t speak for the other boys, well I can a little bit due to the discussions we’ve had. But when we saw you, it was like everything in the world became brighter, the colours more radiant, the breeze that much sweeter. Like you were destined to be ours. And so we told Namjoon, who will be choosing the final woman to be the bride, and we all concluded that you were the woman we wanted. So if you’ll have us, we want you. We all want you” he finished, looking you directly in the eyes, fear and nervousness swirling around in his eyes, as he waited with bated breath for your rejection or acceptance of his admission.

“I want nothing more than to be yours, all of yours,” you told the man before you, bringing your hand up to rest against his cheek. His eyes lit up with joy as he stood up, pulled you up, and lifted you into his arms, spinning you around

“You need not apologise Sir Seo, but it is your King who you should address first, not your daughter. Or do you not have any respect for your King or even your future son-in-law” Yoongi spoke. His back was straight, his ceremonial robes fitting to perfection around every crease of his body, and his right hand resting gracefully on the katana that dangled from his left-hand side. The man before him looked flabbergasted. Namjoon let out a quiet snicker beside you that he easily covered as a cough if you did not know any better.

“Who do you think you are, telling me who I shall and shan’t greet? The Great King was accepting of my wife greeting our beloved daughter before him, so I shall do the same” Your father spoke, digging himself into a deeper and deeper hole. Before Yoongi had a chance to respond to the ill-mannered man before him, the Queen Dowager stood, moving to stand between your father and the men who stood on either side of you.

“The man who you are talking to” the Queen Dowager started “is the Head Directorate, a man way beyond your station. It is required of you to speak to him with respect. Or you see that katana that he holds so elegantly?” She spoke, moving her hand and body to gesture to the large blade that Yoongi held, her head turning just slightly more than her body to send a wink to the three of you. Once she has gestured, she moves her body back towards the man who fidgets in his spot, taking a step closer towards him, her face stiffening with hidden anger. She lowers her voice so that only those nearby can hear “I will personally assure you that he uses that ever so sharp blade to cut your head clean from your neck. If you ever think about disrespecting my family. Ever. again. Is that understood?”. The man before her swallowed in fear before nodding and bowing deeply towards the revered woman.

He moves and stands in front of the king. He too falls to his knees and bows multiple times before him. Waiting for the command to stand to fall from the gracious king’s lips. He bows 5 more times before the words slip from between the plump lips of the king.

“You may stand,” he tells him, his voice deep with authority. “However,” he continues on “as you so like to drink, you shall be sent to the bar. For good. You will never see your family again, you have lost your title, and if you think of ever causing any trouble, my mother will see that her threat becomes reality. Do you understand me?”. Your father stands there, his mouth falling open and closed as if he were a fish. After a few moments without a response, he sighs deeply before repeating. “I said. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?” enunciating his every word. Your father, still not responding, stands there. It is only when Namjoon calls for the guards that he begins to realise the depths of his situation and tries to scramble his way out of it. He falls to the ground again and bows as deeply as possible, begging the tall man before him for his forgiveness. But Namjoon does not budge a single inch, glaring down at the man with the most amount of distaste you had ever seen in anyone's eyes.

When your father has finally been removed from the room. Namjoon turns to your mother.

“Eommani, I sincerely and deeply apologise for having to do that within your presence. It would be my greatest honour to house you within my kingdom. Would you do me that honour?” He asks the woman who is a striking resemblance to you.

“It would be my honour, your highness she says” bowing as low as she can once more. Namjoon pulls her up before she can reach the floor before telling her “you need not bow towards me eommani, it is I who should bow to you.” He states, going to bow himself. Your mother stops him before he can even bow his back more than 45 degrees. She holds his hands in hers and speaks…

“Please call me eomma”

SERIES TAGLIST

@skyys-universe @yoongiigolden @zae007live @thedarkwinterrose

@namjinieesope @uniquelyabnormallyoriginal @poesreddeath @insert-a-creative-url-right-here @hey-syia @scentisterror @emu007 @hajimaoppaa @feedthefandoms995 @maetyun @explorewithd @treetops68 @bibebts @angel-121 @sbromp @zmbo97 @sgnsgssy @silverrr-spooon @el-insomnio-no-es-divertido @plutoneu @oppa-agust-d @jolinaprincess @iamhereforbts @wiccanmetallicrose @iwishididn0texist @hair1997 @uniquecutieprincess @agusfree @borahaetelevision @queen-in-the-shadows

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@ewok7attack @marcelka134340

PROOF READERS

@marcelka134340 @oppa-agust-d

106 notes · View notes

peekaboongi · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: historical!au, fluff, angst, smut

Warnings: (past) minor child abandonment, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering, oral (female), yoongi can’t start fires, minor depictions of violence (someone gets kicked once), marking? kinda? yoongi lowkey has a consent kink, he says she belongs to him but he also says he belongs to her is that a kink? idk, a title kink? he likes when she calls him her king, pussy spanking, degradation/humiliation, name calling, cumplay ig? teasing, begging, one (1) titty slap, teasing, impregnation kink

Word Count: 16k+

Summary: Yoongi didn't plan to collide with you on that fateful day, but it's not long before you consume is every thought. As a palace maid, you weren't destined for greatness, but he seems to think otherwise.

↳ or, Yoongi wants to make you his queen

A/N: so this was supposed to be shameless pwp based on daechwita, but obviously that didn’t happen sldjfsldkj. this is the longest fic i’ve written to date, and it’s my baby so i hope you guys like it and give me feedback. i’ve honestly had so many people read this that i can’t remember all of them and i hope none of you take offense to that i just have the memory of a goldfish. BUT shoutout to @luffles424 for always encouraging me and supporting my ideas bc i really don’t think i would have finished this without you, and @wwilloww and @ot7always for catching all my mistakes (there were a lot of them) so that i didn’t have to go back and read all 16k

Vocab: Sangtugwan - the little crown thing on their tiny man bun Daenggi - the ribbon/tie hybrid that women used to put up their hair Jeogori - the top piece of the hanbok Goreum - the tie that holds the front of the jeogori closed Sillok - historical records Donggot - the hair pin that goes through the sangtugwan Hyung - an older brother Appa - dad

Your entry to the palace had been uneventful. Your father’s wife had sent you away to the palace to work as a maid. Whether the reason was because he loved your mother more than he loved his wife, or because he favored his illegitimate child over any of his other children, you weren’t sure. Perhaps it was both.

Catching the King’s eye had been a stroke of luck. You weren’t as pretty as his concubines, nor were you talented or skilled enough to garner his attention. You were a simple palace maid through and through with little knowledge of the outside world.

Having ascended to the throne at a young age, he was forced to grow up too quickly, having to learn the hard way who he could and couldn’t trust in order to protect himself and his younger brother, the only person who was an exception to his otherwise cold and uncaring nature.

Sweat beads on your brow as the summer sun bears down on you. Normally you spend your days cleaning the Royal Archives, but your friend Eunji had asked you to switch with her today so that she could watch the King’s younger brother who frequently spends his afternoons reading there. Had you known this would be one of the hottest days so far, you would’ve said no to her.

There is no denying that Prince Jungkook is handsome, but there are rules and regulations. Court ladies are not permitted to get married, and they certainly aren’t allowed to spend their days pining after the King’s younger brother. Still, as long as Eunji never acted on her infatuation, you saw no harm in letting her look.

You begin taking down the linens that had been hung up to dry earlier, folding them and placing them in the basket at your feet. A cool breeze blows through the palace causing your skirt to shift, and the goreum of your jeogori to flap slightly. When all the linens have been neatly folded and placed in the basket, you begin your trek back towards the maids’ living quarters.

Occupied by your thoughts, you fail to notice the man turning the corner before it’s too late. The sheets fall to the floor as you collide, muttering apologies as you bow to him. You look up when you hear no response and, had you not already bumped into him, meeting his eyes would have been a grave crime on its own.

Immediately you fall to your knees, and prostrate yourself before the King who, dressed in all his splendor, has you nearly shaking in your place. “Your Majesty! I beg your forgiveness!” You rub your hands together pleadingly. You can feel dozens of eyes on your form, but the King’s eyes seem to burn into you, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to rise.

“Stand up. What’s your name?” His voice is smooth like honey and despite the rumors that he is small in stature, he seems to tower above you.

“Song Y/N. Your Majesty.” Your voice quivers as you address him, hurriedly adding his title on to the end of your sentence. You keep your eyes trained on the wood floor, praying to the heavens that it might open up and swallow you whole.

His fingers, calloused from years of training with swords, grasp at your chin forcefully, but not without tenderness, almost as if he’s afraid he might break you. “Look at me.”

Hesitantly, you raise your eyes to meet his own. They trace the planes of his cheekbones and the delicate outline of his lips before settling on his eyes. You feel as if you are laid bare before him, his eyes cold and calculating as he takes you in.

Your eyes are drawn to the scar on his right eye, an result of an attempt on his life early in his reign. It was the only time he’d ever ordered for a public execution despite the various revolts against the throne since then.

“How long since you came to the palace?” he asks, the fingers that had been holding your chin now brushing across your cheek, leaving searing heat in their wake.

“Since I was a c-child, your Majesty.”

“How have I never seen you?” Perhaps if you knew him better, you would be able to decipher the look on his face before his eyes turn to steel again.

“I often clean the Royal Archives.” He was wrong. He had seen you plenty of times before but he’d never looked at you. Why would he when you were nothing more than a palace maid? If he remembers seeing you now, he makes no indication of it.

Later that night, a eunuch comes to the maids’ chambers, calling on you on behalf of the King. As you exit the room you can hear your peers mutter amongst themselves, likely wondering if you would return later that night. Or at all, really. You were no stranger to the harsh rumors that travel the palace grounds.

You have to hold your hands to keep them from shaking as you approach the King’s private quarters, wondering if perhaps this was the last night of your life. The rational part of you knows that if he wanted your head, he would have taken it earlier, but it does little to assuage your fears.

Rumors quickly spread about the king’s unusual infatuation with a palace maid, but whether he knew of them you were unsure. He told you right from the beginning that you were to address him by name in private, something that you are still getting used to.

The two of you would rarely speak to each other as he would often be working with official documents, but he always had food and drink on his table. Though, you hadn’t dared try anything until he’d taken the first bite.

Having been sent to the palace at such a young age, you were untrained in the activities ladies were supposed to know. While many girls of noble birth learned to dance, recite poetry, do embroidery, or serve tea, you had learned none of those things. Yoongi didn’t seem to care, though. When you asked him why he enjoyed your company despite being unable to accomplish such tasks, he’d simply said that it was because you were refreshing.

If he finished his duties before it was time to retire for the night, he would read you poems or stories from the West. He didn’t trust you yet, but you can see his barriers falling bit by bit. You can see it in the way he tells you about his relationship with his brother, and when he tells you about what happened during his day. You noticed he visited the Royal Archives more frequently these days, though he always avoided your gaze.

A fortnight later, he summons you to his room for the fifth time. You are still afraid of him—only a fool would be fearless—but you are more at ease in his presence now, your shoulders not as tense as the once were in his company.

So lost in your thoughts, you realize that you have already made the journey from the room you shared with the other maids to his own private chambers. His eunuch stops in front of the doors, clearing his throat.

“Miss Song Y/N, Your Majesty.”

The maids that linger outside his room open the doors for you at the king’s invitation, closing them behind you as you enter. Even after being here several times prior, the room’s beauty is still overwhelming compared to both your own living quarters and what you remember of your childhood home.

“Good evening, Your Majesty,” you bow politely.

“Did I not tell you to call me Yoongi?” His voice, while reprimanding, is gentle as he addresses you, looking up from the scroll in his hands.

“A-apologies, Yoongi.” You say his name softly, failing to keep your voice from wavering slightly.

The King gives a simple nod of acknowledgment before gesturing to the seat beside him, pouring wine into a cup for each of you. “Let’s drink tonight.” There are signs of weariness on his face, dark circles lining his eyes. He looks as if he’s lost weight since a fortnight ago, cheeks appearing slimmer than when you saw him last.

When he puts down the paper in his hands, you read the word “uprising” and are overcome with sympathy for the man before you. Despite the good he’s done for the country and its people, there are still people who believe he ascended to the throne too soon and they all too often caused problems for him.

Silently, you sit down next to him and accept the drink. Yoongi never says anything about how stiff you are around him, and he doesn’t make any unwanted advances on you, only ever interested in your company and your thoughts.

A few nights ago he had asked your opinion on the affairs of the kingdom. When you told him you were neither informed enough on the state of the kingdom nor educated enough to know what to say, he simply asked again, saying your level of education didn’t matter. You were his subject no matter your social standing. It was the reason that despite the uprisings, he rarely investigated despite being informed of them. Uprisings are the result of people who feel like their voices are not heard; of citizens who feel the government has wronged them in one way or another. No one deserves to die for trying to make their voice heard. If no one was accused of treason, no one would have to die. The only people he executed were those who were brought before him with incriminating evidence proving them guilty of treason.

“What’s wrong?” The words leave your lips before you have time to stop them. Briefly, a look of surprise flits across his face before his mask of indifference reappears.

“Nothing unusual,” he says self-deprecatingly as he pours both of you another drink. “Just some rebels causing trouble.”

You watch the way he raises the cup to his lips, admiring his elegant facial features, watching the way his eyelids flutter shut as he takes a sip of the alcohol. When he opens his eyes, they meet your own almost as if they are searching for something. Your eyes dart towards the painting behind him, avoiding the way they linger on your flushed face. You distract yourself by playing with the sleeves of your jeogori and refill your cup before drinking it all at once.

At some point during the night, you fall asleep with your head resting on your folded arms, watching as Yoongi draws something, though what, you aren’t sure. You’re only roused from your sleep when you feel strong arms wrap around you, lifting you from where you sit on the chair.

“What time is it?” you mumble as you raise a hand to rub at your eye.

“Late,” is the only thing he says as he lays you down in his bed. With the alcohol in your system and the exhaustion lulling you back to sleep, you can do little more than grab at his sleeve as he moves to leave.

Yoongi fails to mask his shocked expression on his face, but he sits next to you on the bed anyways. After a long day of working and then drinking with him, your hair has fallen out of place and he brushes it away from your face gently, the rough fingers tickling your cheek.

You fall asleep like that; with him tracing light circles into the back of your hand.

That night becomes a turning point in your relationship with the king. When you woke up the following morning, his eunuch—you’d learned his name was Jihoon—was setting out an extravagant breakfast. To his surprise, you’d told him that you would prefer to have rice and a bowl of stew. You also declined the hairpin left behind for you by the king.

Yoongi had asked you why you’d rejected his gift later that night when he called you back. After explaining that you didn’t want expensive or exotic things from overseas, something in him shifted. The king, who had a reputation for being cold and disinterested in just about everything, seemed less weighed down by politics in your presence and more sociable.

Months later, Yoongi enters your private quarters—one of his many gifts despite your objections. Despite being closer now, he still takes your breath away when you see him, though no longer out of fear. Dressed in the finest silks in all of Joseon, the black and gold robes make him appear untouchable, but the gummy smile he sends your way does little to deter you from snorting at him when he pulls a box from behind his back.

“What is it now?”

“You know, most women would think it a privilege to receive a gift from me,” he says, nonchalantly.

You smile saccharinely at him as he rolls his eyes. “What do I have the honor of receiving from you, Your Majesty?”

“Very funny,” he sits on your bed and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you towards him. Knowing that there’s no fighting him when he wants something, you resign yourself to whatever it is he wants, resting your hands in your lap as you turn your back to him, sitting across his legs..

With careful hands, Yoongi undoes the cloth daenggi that holds up your hair, folding it gently and setting it in your hands. Then, opening the small wooden box resting next to you, he pulls out a silk daenggi. The silk shimmers in the light of your room, the delicately embroidered flowers contrasting elegantly with the vibrant red of the fabric.

The king struggles briefly, unfamiliar with how to tie the strip of fabric to the end of your braid. However, it’s not long before he sits back to admire his work. “I think I did pretty well.”

Reaching behind you you bring your braid around to the front and inspect his handiwork. Despite being a little uneven and loose, it’s not bad considering Yoongi hardly ever dresses himself, let alone another person.

“I’m impressed,” you muse to yourself, turning it over in your hands, the old daenggi placed in the wooden box.

Silence fills the room but unlike several months ago, it’s not suffocating. With Yoongi’s arms wrapped around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, you close your eyes. You can feel his breath on the sensitive skin of your neck and a pleasant shiver runs down your spine as fingers mindlessly trace up and down your arm.

It’s no secret that as the reigning king, he has a number of concubines—many who send hateful looks your way these days—and thus has plenty of experience. He’s no different from any other man who has physical desires. You can tell by the way he kisses you like he wants to savor you and devour you at the same time. You can tell by the way his hands caress your sides or how he brushes his knuckles over your cheek. You can tell by the way he looks at you like he wants to throw you on the bed and make you scream his name until you’re hoarse. Despite his obvious desire to bed you though, he has made no move to do so and you aren’t sure whether to be thankful or offended.

“It’s getting late.” You reach up to thread your fingers through his hair gently. “You should go back and get some sleep.”

You can see a lingering question in his eyes as he gets up to leave, and you find your heart sinking when he exits without asking it.

When Eunji appears in the Royal Archives giggling the next morning, you know you’re in trouble. You aren’t sure how she did it, but she managed to get the head lady to assign her to the archives not long after the first night Yoongi summoned you to his room.

“A little bunny told me you got another gift from the king,” you feel her pat you on the back approvingly, briefly brushing her fingers over the daenggi.

“Did you finally tell Prince Jungkook that you like him?” You roll your eyes at her nickname for the prince. After months of pining after the shy younger brother of the king, the boy finally said hello to Eunji, something that had her grinning from ear to ear for the remainder of the week.

“What if he doesn’t like me back,” your best friend exclaims, throwing her arms up.

You laugh. “If he says he doesn’t like you, then he’s a fool and a liar. He follows you around in the Archives like a lost puppy.” You see it when he pretends to be studying only for his eyes to flit towards your friend and the way he always makes sure to greet her when he comes in despite being well above either of your station.

You can’t help but wonder if Yoongi looks at you the same way when you aren’t looking, or if he thinks about you during the day the same way your mind often drifts towards thoughts of him. It’s foolish to hope that he might, but you find that you’ve been acting like a fool as of late.

The sound of footsteps approaching pulls you from your thoughts.

“Y/N, His Highness is looking for the sillok from King Sejeong’s reign, but I don’t know where they are,” Eunji says, gesturing to Jungkook who stands slightly behind her with his head bowed in a rather un-princelike manner. While they may be brothers born from the same womb, the two of them could not be any more different.

Where Yoongi appeared cold and calculating and always gave off an air of confidence, Jungkook is much less cut out for the noble life. The boy is shy and would much rather spend his days doing combat training for hours on end instead of studying scriptures and Confucianism.

“I told you to remember where things are,” you say through your teeth as you smile at the prince.

“I know, I promise I’ll memorize it soon!” she pleads with you, but it’s not as though you can reject a request from a member of the royal family.

“Follow me, Your Highness. They’re right this way.”

After showing Jungkook to the records, you begin your work reshelving the books he had previously looked at, rolling your eyes at the way Eunji stares, slack jawed at him.

The afternoon goes by quickly, as you help Jungkook find the things that Eunji can’t, and clean up after the scholars leave their materials strewn about. Before long, the setting sun casts long shadows, a sign reminding you that after dinner you might finally have a chance to see Yoongi. That thought has you rushing to finish reorganizing the shelves.

By the time you return to your room, Jihoon, is standing outside waiting for you. “His Majesty requests your company this evening, Miss Y/N.”

Silently, the two of you make your way across the palace grounds to Yoongi’s chambers. Despite seeing him frequently and being friendly with the eunuch, he barely spares you a second glance.

The night is cold, a strong wind blowing through the palace. Trees stir and your skirt rustles as your shoes clack across the stone paths. The night sky is filled with stars, something you remember your father telling you about when you were a child—about pictures in the sky.

Jihoon announces your arrival when you reach the doors to Yoongi’s room before you walk in. Upon hearing a crash, you rush into the room only to be greeted with the sight of a man that looks like the king, but with hair so blond, it looks almost silver in the dim lighting. There’s a bowl on the ground—likely the source of the crashing noise—with dark black liquid spilling out of it.

There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t quite decipher before he’s turning away from you. “Don’t look at me.” Despite the harsh words, his voice wavers when he speaks.

“I won’t look,” you reassure him, turning around.

When he’s sure you won’t look back at him, he goes back to what he was doing before you barged in. When he finally tells you you can look again, the blond hair seems to glow, contrasting with his warm skin and dark eyes. There’s still a black puddle on the floor, but he pays no mind to it, only looking at you.

“You aren’t scared.” Though it’s posed as a statement, there’s uncertainty in his eyes.

You cross the room to stand in front of him, looking up to meet his eyes. “You’ve never given me any reason to fear you,” you say, matter-of-factly. You can see the way his shoulders drop in relief at your words, and the knowledge that he feels the need to hide something like this out of fear sends a pang through your heart, the need to comfort him overwhelming.

You wrap your arms around his torso, looking up at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“The only people who know are my brother and Jihoon,” he says before adding, “and my parents, though they’re dead,” he chuckles. One of his hands rests on the small of your back while the other reaches up to gently stroke your head. “My parents dyed it the moment they knew it wasn’t black, though I never questioned why at the time. Now that I’ve grown up, I understand that people would probably call me a demon, or someone cursed by the gods. If something were to happen where I can’t protect Jungkook anymore…”

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence for you to understand. With half of the officials already hating him, he doesn’t need to give them any more reasons to think he’s unfit for the throne. It hurts you to know that people wouldn’t accept him like this.

“I like it,” you say before you have time to think about it. Yoongi holds you at arms-length, searching your face for any hint of a lie. When he finds none, he smiles. It’s something that you wish you could see more of.

“Thank you, Y/N. I mean it.”

You reach up and pat him on the head. “Now let me go so that I can clean up the mess you made,” you grin, trying to uplift the mood.

“You don’t have to,” he says, frowning as you turn away from him.

“I’m a maid, Yoongi. It’s what I do.” You laugh when he sits on the bed with a grimace. “If you let me do this, I’ll help you dye your hair again. If it’s okay with you, that is.”

“Usually Jungkook’s the one who does it, but it seems like he won’t be coming tonight,” the king scoffs. “Something about a girl, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Eunji finally sunk her claws into him,” you mutter to yourself before looking up and seeing the way Yoongi looks at you in shock. “Metaphorically! She’s nice, I promise.” She’d better be, there’s nothing the king wouldn’t do to protect his younger brother.

When the black liquid—hair dye, as you now know—is finally cleaned off the floor, Yoongi helps you prepare another batch. He sits in the chair as you stand behind him, massaging it into his hair, watching as the black dye seeps into the blond strands. The king hums contentedly as he lets you work, and you’re grateful that he trusts you enough to let his guard down like this.

You spend that evening helping him dye his hair again, and you’re a bit sad that the blond was so short lived. After the blond locks have been sufficiently doused in black dye, you make your departure for the night, leaving him to rinse his hair on his own despite his protests for you to stay.

You’re unsurprised to find Eunji waiting for you in your room, wanting to hear about the most recent development in your relationship with the king. It’s only when you enter your chambers and see the Cheshire grin on her face that you realize you yourself had a smile plastered across your face.

“Something good happened,” your best friend says and at her knowing look, you feel heat rise to your cheeks.

You try to brush it off, telling her it was nothing, but you should have known better than to think she would leave you alone. Still, you don’t feel right telling her that Yoongi’s hair is naturally blond, something that only two other people know. Not that you don’t trust Eunji, but Yoongi trusts you, and you don’t intend to take it for granted.

“We just did some trust exercises.” It comes out as more of a question, but she doesn’t say anything about it, simply nodding for you to continue. “We talked about his childhood,” you add on, rolling your eyes.

Eunji keeps you up into the early hours of the morning, but you don’t mind. It reminds you of simpler times when the two of you had entered the palace, just two girls against the world.

The next time you see Yoongi is a week later. Word of another uprising had reached the palace earlier in the week, and he had to settle the rebels, something that—despite having done so on several previous occasions—leaves the man stressed and exhausted both emotionally and physically.

When you enter his chambers, the king is sat in his bed, hunched over the small table in front of him. Stray hairs have fallen down around his face, the black strands casting shadows on the scar that runs across his eye. Seeing the dark circles under his eyes, you find yourself wishing he could get a break from his kingly duties, but you suppose that’s a bit much to ask for the ruler of an entire Kingdom.

Carefully, you remove the sangtugwan from his top knot, placing the round metal accessory on the table beside him. Yoongi’s hands reach up to let his hair down, the black strands framing his face beautifully. After seeing him with his natural hair, you miss the blond more than you’d like to admit, something about the way the light reflects off of it undeniably attractive.

The king pulls you in by the waist, causing you to fall next to him rather ungracefully. You focus on the sound of his breathing, trying to distract yourself from the way you’re pushed up against him, his hand rubbing circles into your hip. He smells like the earth after it rains, the pleasant aroma intoxicating.

You unintentionally make eye contact with Yoongi, his dark brown irises almost invisible in the dim lighting. He looks like he wants to devour you, and you don’t think you would stop him if he did.

Yoongi moves first. His free hand moves up to cradle the back of your head before he leans in, eyes still watching you. Your heart jumps in your chest and despite having wanted this for weeks, you find that you aren’t sure what to do. The senior maids never taught you anything about how to please a man.

He takes your lower lip between his teeth, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. Needing something to ground you, you fist at his robes, wrinkling the fine fabric. He tastes of mint and honey and mixed with the scent of freshly fallen rain, all of your senses are overwhelmed by him.

Despite having been visibly exhausted just moments earlier, he kisses you with renewed vigor. The hand on your hip moves up your side slowly, hesitantly. When you don’t move to stop him, he gently caresses the curve of your breast through your top before he takes the goreum between his slender fingers.

Yoongi pulls away from you and you reluctantly let go of his robes. “We can stop right now with no questions asked,” he says. “We can act like this never happened.” The hand on the back of your neck moves to cup your cheek, the thumb brushing over the soft skin almost lovingly. “Are you sure you want to keep going,” he asks again when you nod.

“Yes.” You answer him without pause. “Yes.” You comb your fingers through his hair.

The king looks at you for a long moment, searching for any signs of hesitation. You’re about to reassure him when he kisses you again. He’s rougher this time—like he can’t get enough of you—a stark contrast to the gentle way he undresses you.

With one hand he pulls loose the tie that holds your jeogori closed. The garment falls open before you shrug out of it, untying the strings of your skirt with practiced ease. He removes the straps of the skirt from your shoulders, followed by the cloth around your chest and your underwear.

With his other hand, he lets down your hair, the daenggi he gifted you falling to the floor with the rest of your clothes. Yoongi cards his fingers through your hair, loosening the braid and causing your hair to fall freely over your breasts before he brushes it aside.

Yoongi gently pushes you so that your back rests against the head of the bed. You bring your hands up to cover yourself, suddenly aware of how bare you are to him, self-conscious of your appearance. As king, Yoongi has plenty of concubines and feeling lackluster in comparison, your shy away from him.

He gently takes your hands in his own. Heat rushes to your cheeks, but he says nothing of it. Instead, he asks you again if you’re okay with this. “If you don’t feel the same, we can still stop,” he says, thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand. There isn’t a hint of disappointment or anger in his eyes, only acceptance, if not a bit of fear, afraid that you might not care for him the way he does for you.

Your heart aches at the thought that he might think you don’t care for him. You can’t think of anyone besides Eunji that you’ve cared for to this extent. Not since you came to the palace as a child.

“I do feel the same!” The words come out rushed and louder than you intended, but Yoongi smiles at your outburst. “It’s just…” you take your lip between your teeth, trying to find the right words. “I’m not pretty like one of your concubines,” you say softly, looking away from him.

“Is that what you’re worried about? That I don’t find you attractive?” His words are gentle. “You might not be pretty like my concubines, but you’re pretty like you, Y/N—and I happen to think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” One of his hands moves to your face, thumb brushing against your cheek.

Your heart soars at his words and you’re overcome by emotion. A tear slides down your cheek before you quickly wipe it away, causing Yoongi to chuckle softly.

“If you have any reservations at all, we don’t have to go any further.”

“Please,” you pull at his robes. “I want this. I want you.”

Yoongi leans back and removes his clothing, baring himself to you, eyes never leaving your own as he undresses.

When he is fully naked, you spend a moment just looking at him before either of you move again. Hesitantly, you run your hands over the smooth expanse of his chest, trying to memorize every hill and valley. Slowly, you move your fingers over the outline of his abdomen, the muscles rippling under your touch.

Yoongi stays still as you explore his body, seemingly content to let your hands roam over him. He only speaks when your hands dip below his navel and pause before going further like you aren’t quite sure what to do next.

Unmoving, he asks “Have you done this before?” At the shake of your head, his familiar gummy smile spreads across his face, causing your stomach to flip and your heart to skip a beat. “Then let me focus on you.”

“But I want to make you feel good,” you pout slightly.

“You can, another time,” he chuckles. “Making you feel good will make me feel good, too.” His fingers brush against the underside of your breast before lightly tracing circles around your nipples with his thumbs. “Can I?”

“Please,” you whine at the sensation.

Taking one of the buds into his mouth, he circles it with his tongue, sucking gently. You arch your back at the pleasurable feeling, searching from more. Yoongi takes this as encouragement, rolling the neglected peak between his thumb and forefinger until it’s hard.

Slowly, he begins kissing his way down your stomach, leaving goosebumps in his wake. When his lips wrap around your clit and suck, you buck your hips involuntarily as you bury your hands in his hair, crying out at the foreign yet pleasurable feeling.

His hands gently push your thighs apart before he settles in between them. Licking between your folds, his tongue prods at your entrance teasingly as he enjoys the broken moans that leave your lips.

“Fuck, Y/N. You’re so sensitive.” Yoongi drags his middle finger through your folds, collecting your arousal. Looking up at you, his tongue swipes across the finger, the digit glistening with your slick in the candlelight. The look in his eyes as he makes eye contact with you causes your walls to clench in anticipation.

“Please, Yoongi.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to touch me, make me feel good.”

“I am touching you. Does this not feel good?” He kisses your inner thigh, hands gliding over the smooth skin. Your hands pull at his hair hard enough to cause pain, but Yoongi simply continues teasing you, fingers lightly tracing designs across the skin. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”

“Here, want you here.” One of your hands moves down to the apex of your thighs, spreading apart your lower lips. The unobstructed view of your cunt as it clenches around nothing elicits a growl from the king before he replaces your hand with his own.

Carefully, so as not to hurt you, he inserts a single finger into your heat. The discomfort lasts for only a moment before it’s replaced with pleasure. Seeing your face relax, he begins thrusting the digit in and out, slowly working you open. After several minutes, he speeds up, thrusting his finger into your warm walls.

“More, please,” you whine, one finger no longer enough.

Your moans of pleasure fill the otherwise quiet room when Yoongi adds another finger. Carefully, he begins to stretch you out with a scissoring motion, causing your hips to lift off the bed to meet his movements.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Wanna watch your face when you come,” he groans.

You rarely have time to pleasure yourself, and when you do have time, you often fall asleep before you can. Still, you’ve fingered yourself a handful of times, but it doesn’t compare to the way Yoongi does it. His fingers are longer and thicker than your own, stretching you more than you’ve ever done yourself.

Never breaking eye contact with you, Yoongi’s tongue alternates between pressing flat against your clit and drawing circles around the bud, enjoying the pleasured moans he pulls from your lips. He repeats these actions until you’re trembling beneath him, the pressure in your stomach growing. It’s when his fingers brush against a certain spot and you see stars, that your high washes over you.

Your back arches off the bed as you moan the king’s name loud enough for the people outside to hear, but you’re so lost in the throes of pleasure that you don’t care. Never have you been able to bring yourself to such a strong climax, one that has you seeing white.

Yoongi laps at your essence greedily, fingers continuing to pump in and out of you through your orgasm until it’s almost painful. Your fists tighten around his hair, trying to push him away, but he doesn’t budge. Not until he’s cleaned you properly, leaving no traces of your orgasm.

“Fuck, you look so pretty when you fall apart for me,” he comes up, licking the residual arousal from his fingers, tongue darting out cheekily as you watch him, unable to look away in your pleasurable haze. Leaning forward, he kisses you, and you can taste yourself on his tongue.

When he pulls away, his eyes are soft, more so than they usually are. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” He grins, gently patting down your hair and brushing it away from your face.

“You didn’t finish.” Your words are mumbled and slur together, all your energy depleted. “I want to help you, too.” Reaching out to him, your frown when he pulls away from you. You hadn’t realized how cold you were until he lays the comforter over your naked body.

“We can do that next time.” He wraps his arm around you, pulling you close to him resting his chin in the crook of your neck. “You’re tired. Go to sleep, love.”

Were you more aware, you might have commented on the term of endearment, but you’re far too tired. Instead, you become aware of the way his breath tickles the skin on your neck, the way his chest rises and falls in time to your own.

Encompassed by his form and his comforting scent, it’s not long before you succumb to your exhaustion.

You wake up the following morning to the rustling of clothes. Slowly sitting up in bed, you giggle at the sight of the king fumbling around in his undergarments. There’s light streaming in through the screen windows, though it’s dim enough that you don’t need to worry about being late to work.

“What are you doing,” you step up beside him, looking over his shoulder curiously as he rummages through the pile of discarded clothes on the ground

“I’m looking for my sangtugwan and the donggot,” he says, not looking at you.

Rolling your eyes, you make your way to the table you set the headpiece on last night. “It’s over here,” you laugh lightly.

Turning to you, Yoongi’s breath catches in his throat at the sign of you naked, illuminated by the golden hues of the morning sun. He only stops staring when you clear your throat, a pink tinge visible on your cheeks.

“You look beautiful,” the king says, in awe of your beauty. Gentle hands brush against your collarbone as he admires you. There are no underlying sexual motives though. The affection he has for you is clear in the way he looks at you like you’re his entire world, and that thought causes your heart to skip a beat.

“Y-you wanted this.” You hold the crown out to him, trying to ignore the way your cheeks flush at his attention.

“Will you help me put it on?”

“Let me get dressed first.” You can tell that he wants to make a joke about your state of undress, but he keeps it to himself.

You pick your own clothes up off the floor and get dressed, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles that resulted due to lying in a pile all night. The daenggi that Yoongi gifted you lies on the ground, and you frown.

“I can’t believe you just dropped this on the ground,” you chastise the king. Bending down to pick it up, you brush it off, making sure that any dust or dirt on it is gone.

Yoongi pouts at your words, not liking being reprimanded by you. “It’s just a strip of fabric,” he says downtrodden.

“It’s a pretty strip of fabric that you gave me.” You won’t tell him this, but you treasure the gifts he gives you, always careful not to damage or break them. He frequently brushes it off when he gives you gifts, saying that it was the first thing he saw, or that he just had it lying around and didn’t want it anymore. Regardless of his excuses, you know that he puts more thought into his actions than he’d like for people to believe.

You see the way he agonizes over certain petitions, trying to come up with a solution that will satisfy everyone, and he always cleans his room himself so that the maids have less work to do. That’s why even when you know he’d offer to replace something immediately, you want to cherish the presents because you also know how much consideration goes into the gifts.

It’s odd, you think, to see the man known as coldhearted and uninterested in most affairs act so thoughtfully. It’s sad that people can’t see him the way you do, but there’s something comforting about being one of the few people to know him so well.

Ignoring the way he grumbles about you being overly sentimental, you continue to dress, trying to smooth out the fabric and ultimately failing. Yoongi spends the time looking over the pile of petitions on the table, glancing up at you occasionally with an indecipherable look on his face.

When you finish getting dressed, you ask him to sit in the chair so that you can more easily see what you’re doing. You pull his long black hair away from where it falls around his slender shoulders, tying it up into a bun. Yoongi has to help instruct you along the way since you aren’t sure what you’re doing, but he’s patient.

“You called me ‘love’ last night,” you say quietly, afraid that you heard him wrong, or maybe even imagined it. You help him with his headband, making sure that it’s secure.

“I did.”

Carefully, you place the metal cylinder around his sangtu, making sure that there are no stray hairs. “Why?”

After you slide the donggot through the crown and the bun, Yoongi stands up, turning to face you. He takes your face into his rough hands almost reverently, like he’s afraid of hurting you. Looking you in the eyes, you can see nothing but admiration, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“Because you, Song Y/N, are beautiful both on the outside and in here,” he points at your chest. “You’ve seen parts of me that few other people have, and you accepted them. You did not run when you saw my hair, nor did you condemn me for my differences.”

“Anyone would do the same.” It’s a lie, and you both know it. There are plenty of people at court who would jump at the opportunity to dethrone him and have him exiled—or worse.

“It doesn’t matter what other people would or wouldn’t do. They aren’t you.”

You can hear your heartbeat pounding, and you worry that he can hear it too. He looks at you—not for the first time—with uncertainty, something akin to fear accompanying it, resting his forehead against your own. His calloused thumb rubs gentle circles on your cheek and you find yourself leaning into his comforting touch.

“I love you, but if you don’t feel the same, I will not force you to stay any longer. All you need to do is say the word and you can leave the palace. Sell my gifts and live a life better than this one. I would not blame you.” There’s a sadness in his eyes that breaks your heart.

“I don’t know much about the affairs of the heart,” you start, one of your hands wrapping around the back of his neck. “But I know that I don’t wish to be somewhere you aren’t.”

The elated smile that spreads across Yoongi’s face fills you with joy, and you take comfort in the way he relaxes into your hold.

The two of you jump apart at the sound of Jihoon’s voice at the door. “Your Majesty,” he calls, waiting for the king to invite him in, maids with trays of food following him closely behind. It’s embarrassing, the way you practically drool at the food, unaware of just how hungry you are, and you can hear the king snicker softly.

Breakfast for you is short, as you need to get to work quickly. You send Yoongi one last look before leaving him to enjoy the rest of his meal.

The first time you say the words ‘I love you’ is no more than a fortnight later. It’s unromantic, an accident, and you barely remember it. They slip out after a night of drinking with Yoongi, which your tongue has been loosened by the alcohol and your inhibitions are gone.

You laugh at the way his eyes widen in surprise before his expression softens. He gently lets your hair down, making sure to place the daenggi he gifted to you in a mother of pearl box that sits on your dresser, the most recent gift he’s given you.

The king is careful not to pull on your hair when he slips your outermost garments off, struggling to do so with the way you cling to him in your drunken haze. When he has finally managed to evade your wildly waving arms and your hands that grab at him, it’s been a good twenty minutes.

Folding the clothes to keep them from wrinkling, he sets them on the dresser. When he turns around to face the bed, you are sprawled out on your back with your mouth scrunched up in a pout as you look at him.

“Come back here,” you slur, tongue unable to wrap around the sounds properly.

“I’m coming, love.” He chuckles, carefully tucking you underneath your blankets. “You’re a mess, you know that?” Yoongi brushes the hair away from your face, admiring the way the light flickers on your cheeks.

“‘M your mess though.”

“I suppose you are,” he kisses you on the forehead, getting up to leave.

“Don’t go,” you mumble, hand darting out to grab his robes before he can get too far. “Stay.”

“You need to sleep.” He knows there’s no use in trying to reason with someone as drunk as you are, but he doesn’t have the heart to leave you when you look up at him with unfocused eyes.

“But I love you.” The words come out as a whisper as sleep begins to overtake you, but Yoongi hears them all the same.

“I love you too,” he says, gently stroking your hair until you fall asleep.

It’s not long before the leaves fall from the trees and the days get shorter and grow colder. Eunji and Prince Jungkook spend many afternoons together, often shirking their responsibilities to do something ridiculous, but you see no harm in it as long as they’re both happy. You’re glad to see that your friend has finally stopped her flirtations with every man she sees.

The king and you grow closer as the days go by. It’s unusual when you don’t see him at all on any given day, even if only for a few minutes. You look forward to these small moments in between your daily responsibilities, whether you get to talk or just send him a small smile, your day doesn’t feel complete without seeing him at least once.

“Y/N, Y/N! It’s snowing!” Eunji’s excited yell from the courtyard startles you.

Sure enough, as you walk outside, the ground is dusted in white powder, more of it falling from the sky above. The cold tickles your cheeks and reddens your nose, and you shiver.

“It’s so cold,” you complain to your best friend who seems too preoccupied throwing handfuls of snow at Prince Jungkook to hear you.

Laughing and shaking your head, you turn to go back inside only for the entrance to the Royal Archives to be blocked by Yoongi.

“Your Majesty,” you greet him, bowing, You can see the slight downturn of the corners of his lips at your formality, but he says nothing of it. “Can I do something for you?”

Clearing his throat, he turns away from you with red cheeks, either from the cold or his embarrassment, you can’t tell. You have a sneaking suspicion it has more to do with the latter, though. “Would you like to join me for a walk, love?”

Even though it’s been a while since he first called you that, it still makes heat rise to your cheeks as your heart skips a beat.

You can see your fellow maids peeking out of the archives in the background, envy and curiosity in their eyes, but you’re only focused on Yoongi. His hair needs to be dyed again soon, you think to yourself at how light his hair has gotten.

When you asked him why he doesn’t use a more permanent dye, he simply shrugged and said that none of them took to his hair very well. You have your doubts about his explanation, but you didn’t push him further.

“I still have a couple of hours before I finish—”

“We can take care of it,” Eunji cuts you off. “Bunny can help too,” she pulls the prince over, fingers entwining. If either of the royals think anything of the nickname, they say nothing.

“I really don’t think it’s appropriate to ask him to h—”

“It’s fine, really!” You get interrupted again when Prince Jungkook speaks up. “You go have fun with hyung!” He sends his brother a knowing look.

“Then it’s settled,” the king says, leaving no room for you or anyone else to argue, not that anyone else would dare decline an invitation from him.

Yoongi pulls you away and towards his room, before turning down a path you’ve never seen before. Seldom used, plants grow between the stones laid out on the ground. Barren trees line the way before opening up to a clearing.

You can hear the sound of running water nearby but your attention is drawn to the gazebo at the edge of the treeline, blankets and food set out for the two of you. There’s a fire pit not too far from the structure, large rocks placed around a pile of firewood covered by a piece of fabric.

Beside you, Yoongi looks at you with nervousness, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet in a rather undignified manner. The sight makes your heart swell with joy, a big smile spreading across your face.

“Did you do all of this yourself?”

“Jungkook and Jihoon helped a bit, but do you like it?”

“I love it,” you squeeze his hand gently. “It’s beautiful.”

His shoulders sag in relief, as he leads you to the gazebo. Yoongi helps you step up onto the platform, making sure you’re settled. He pours you a cup of tea before going to start the fire.

You take in your surroundings, paying attention to the way nature seems to be reclaiming the small area. Vines grow up the worn wood of the gazebo, most of the paint chipped off by now. The sound of water appears to be coming from beyond the clearing on the other end, likely a small stream running through the palace grounds. You can make out faint animal prints near the treeline, but you can’t identify them.

The sound of Yoongi grunting pulls your attention back to him. Hunched over the pile of wood, he struggles to start a fire, and you can see his hands shaking slightly from the cold. His breath comes out in puffs before dissipating into the air. Covering your mouth to hide the laugh that escapes you, you get up and slip your shoes on again, ignoring how cold they are in contrast to your feet which had been tucked underneath the blankets.

“Do you need some help?” He startles at your voice, turning to look at you sheepishly.

“Do you know how?”

“I’ve worked in the kitchens my fair share,” you shrug. “I know a thing or two.”

Instead of doing it for him, you help him through it, instructing him on what to do. Though it takes longer than it would have if you’d done it from the start, the satisfied look on his face makes it worth it.

The snow continues to fall, but the fire burns easily enough. The two of you go back to the gazebo and huddle under the blankets together. The food grows cold in the time that it takes to get the fire going—something that Yoongi apologizes profusely for—but you don’t mind. The tea is still warm and you heat the food up by the fire.

“I’m sorry you’re doing most of the work,” he mumbles, chin resting on your shoulder as he holds you from behind, legs spread out on either side of you. “My tutors never really taught me how to do this.” His breath tickles the skin on your neck, and you lean back into him, raising an arm to gently stroke his cheek.

“It’s fine. This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Is there a reason for all this, though?”

“It’s the first snowfall,” he says flatly like it was obvious.

“I wasn’t aware that you knew what that means. Or that you’re a superstitious person,” you laugh lightly.

“I wasn’t.” The deep baritone of his laugh fills your ears, his chest shaking behind you. “Jungkook came running into my study yelling about it.” The mental image has you smiling fondly, envious of the sibling bond they have. “Jihoon also said that a lot of couples spend the first snow together. And,” he adds, “I’m not superstitious.”

“Then why do all this?”

“Because,” he pulls away from you, and you look back at him in confusion, suddenly cold where his arms once were. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“You’re scaring me Yoongi,” you turn to face him fully.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do. How could I not?” Your heart pounds rapidly in your chest, afraid of where things are going. It’s rare when he’s this serious in your presence. The only other time you can remember being when he caught wind of palace gossip about you and how some of his concubines had been harassing you.

You’d never seen him that mad before. At first, you were afraid that he was mad at you before he calmed down enough to explain it to you, though he was still upset that you didn’t tell him sooner. You don’t know what he did, but those women stopped the very next day, and they hadn’t approached you since.

“And,” he starts, eyes meeting your own. “You love me, right?”

“I–Of course I do.” You stutter briefly, taken aback by how serious he’s being.

“Good. That’s good.”

“Yoongi?” You gently pry for more information. “What is this about?”

“Well, I was wondering if...that is, if you want to...maybe…” Usually well-spoken, the shy stuttering man before you would normally be rather endearing to you. You wait for him to find his words before he starts speaking again. Taking a deep breath, he continues. “I want to wed you, Song Y/N,” he says resolutely. “I want to make you my queen.”

For a long while, neither one of you says anything. You search his eyes for any hint of doubt or hesitation, but all you see is pure, unadulterated love and adoration. The only sounds in the clearing are that of your breathing, the crackling fire, and the stream. You don’t even feel cold anymore.

“Y/N?” Yoongi seems to take your silence as rejection, his face falling. “It was foolish of me to—”

Your lips are on his before he can even finish the thought, hands coming up to wrap around the back of his neck. The kiss is messy and impassioned, teeth knocking against each other as he slips his tongue over your own. His hands wrap around your cheek and waist, pulling you impossibly close to him. You can’t tell if it’s your own body you feel heating up, or if you can feel him through the layers of clothing, but you know that all you can see, feel, and hear is him. Neither one of you wants to pull away, but the need for air wins in the end.

The two of you pant, the cold winter air filling your lungs, the heat that was there just moments before disappearing as you watch your breath come out in puffs. Your clothes are wrinkled and the blankets fell off some time along the way, but you don’t care.

“Does this mean the answer is yes?”

“I’m just a palace maid, but if you’ll have me, yes. A million times yes.” You can just barely feel tears slide down your cheeks as your eyelashes freeze together, but all you care about is the man in front of you.

Cold hands come up to brush away the wetness, but it just causes you to cry more. “You’re so much more than that,” he says. “You’re the woman I fell in love with.”

You don’t see Yoongi for days after that, but news quickly spreads around the palace. Some people send you dirty looks or whisper things behind your back when they think you can’t hear them, but you pay no attention to them. Eunji barged into your room the next morning, and you feared for your eardrums with how loudly she was yelling.

You hadn’t quite understood what she was saying but you laughed all the same. Despite the news that the king was getting married, your life continued much the same as it had been going.

A fortnight goes by like this before you see Yoongi again when he calls you to keep him company in his study. It hasn’t been that long, but there are dark circles under his eyes and he looks thinner.

Immediately, you go to his side, kneeling beside him at the table in front of him. “What’s wrong? Are you sleeping enough? Eating enough?”

“Hello to you too, love.” He wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your temple. “The court officials had some things to say of me marrying you,” he explains.

You try to hide the way your shoulders fall a little at his words, but he can tell, the hand on your waist squeezing gently.

“I don’t need to be queen,” you say. “It doesn’t matter to me as long as I get to stay by your side.”

“I know, love, but I want to be able to show the world how much you mean to me,” he stops writing for a moment to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. “I’ll find a way to placate them.”

You don’t know how much time passes like that, the two of you sitting side by side in silence as he works. Eventually, you lie down and rest your head in his lap, content to close your eyes. Yoongi’s hand gently strokes your head, and you fall asleep.

Jihoon wakes you up, announcing the arrival of someone, you think you hear something about the Royal Investigations Bureau, but you can’t quite catch it. The king waits until you’re sitting upright to tell the eunuch to let the man in, but you don’t hear anything after that.

Your eyes settle on the man being quite literally dragged in by the guard. His cheeks are cut and bruised, and the stray hairs not held by his headband are matted to his forehead. Blood is splattered on his clothes, and you hope it’s not his.

Even after all your years spent away from him, your father looks the same as the day his wife sent you away. If Yoongi notices the way you stiffen, he does little to acknowledge it.

“What is it?” You haven’t seen him act so cold and indifferent since your first encounter with him, and if you didn’t know him better, it would scare you how quickly he can change his personas.

“Your Majesty,” the guard looks to you, unsure of whether he should continue with you present until Yoongi motions for him to go on. “This man was found with documents planning an attempt on your life as well as Prince Jungkook’s,” He throws your father on the floor, and he can barely keep himself upright. It takes everything you have to keep from crying right there, and you fist at the fabric of your skirts, knuckles turning white.

Your father coughs, trying to sit up. “Y-your Majesty.” His voice is hoarse, nothing like the warm and comforting sound you remember from your childhood. Before he can say more though, the guard kicks him.

“These are the papers.” He holds papers out, and Jihoon takes them from him before handing them to the king, eyes meeting your own for the briefest of moments before he’s returning to his place off to the side.

Yoongi reads over the papers, looking at your father occasionally. You can’t tell what he’s thinking though, and you find yourself biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, the coppery taste heavy on your tongue.

He opens his mouth to speak but before he has a chance to say anything, you interrupt him, a grave offense on its own.

“S-stop!”

For the first time since your father was brought in, the king looks at you, taken aback by how distressed you look. His eyes sweep over your form, not understanding why you’re so tense.

“How dare you interrupt His Majesty?” The guard steps towards you but stops when Yoongi holds up his hand.

“Please Y-Yoongi,” his name slips past your lips before you can correct it, but nobody says anything, least of all him. “Your Majesty, please—he’s innocent.”

“She’s clearly working with him,” the guard says.

The eyes that had softened when he looked at you harden once more, and it sends a chill down your spine. You can’t tell what he’s thinking or how he’s feeling, but the way he looks at you makes your skin crawl.

You prostrate yourself before him, voice coming out weaker than you intended it to when you speak again. “I beg of you. Please spare him!”

“Everyone. Leave us.” Nobody questions the order, not with how he sounds, the true embodiment of the coldhearted king everyone believes him to be. It isn’t until everyone has left, the sound of the doors closing behind them echoing in the silent room when he addresses you. “Look at me.”

The words are reminiscent of your first meeting with him but while that memory brings warmth, you feel empty when he says them this time, all traces of love gone. Hesitantly, you look up at him. There’s a range of emotions in his eyes, but the most obvious one is anger.

“I love you,” he says, though the ways he says the three words suggest the opposite. “I told you I wanted to make you my queen,” he says. “So tell me, Song Y/N, why you’re begging for the life of a man plotting to take not just my life, but my brother’s as well? Are you working with him?”

“No! I love you,” you cry, not bothering to wipe away the tears that stream down your cheeks. “How can you question my feelings for you? Do you not trust me?”

“The timing is awfully suspicious. I know nothing of your past. I thought my love for you was enough, but maybe I was wrong,” he turns away from you. “Guards!”

They come running it at his call, lining up in front of him. From your position on the floor, they look more imposing than they do when you pass them on the palace grounds. Some of them you even recognize. Jimin, the Captain of the Guard, stands at the front.

“Lock her up.” Yoongi doesn’t look at you even as he issues the command.

Jimin has the decency to wait for you to get up on your own before he grabs you by the elbow, leading you out of the room. You can hear the maids whispering as you pass them on the way to the jail, saying things like ‘serves her right for trying to seduce the king’ or similar things. You pass by Eunji and Prince Jungkook who stare at you with wide eyes but are pushed forward when you try to talk to them.

Somewhere along the way, Jimin was called away to deal with something more pressing, squeezing your arm gently before handing you off to his much more aggressive underlings who yank you harshly, before throwing you into a cell.

“Wench,” one of them says before walking away.

Scrambling to your feet, you frantically search for your father, eyes searching the nearby cells before you hear a cough come from behind you, seeing your father hunched over in the corner.

“A-are you okay?” You ask him through your tears, brushing his hair away from his face and gently dabbing at the cuts on his cheek with your sleeve.

“Do I know you,” he coughs out, blood splattering your jeogori though he covers his mouth in a weak attempt to contain it.

Your heart falls when he doesn’t recognize you, but you suppose it wouldn’t make sense if he did. The last time he saw you, you were a child.

“It’s me, a-appa,” you say. “Your daughter, Y/N.”

Your father’s eyes meet your own for the first time in over a decade, hands shaking as they hover over your face. He looks you over slowly, eyes watering as a look of recognition washes over him.

“Is it really?”

“Yes, yes it’s really me,” you smile in spite of everything, taking his hand in your own and pressing it to your cheek. “It’s me, appa.”

“Minseo said you were dead. I mourned you for years,” he cries, his shoulders shaking as words get stuck in his throat. “What happened?”

“She sold me to the palace,” you explain, falling into his familiar embrace. “I’ve been here ever since.”

The two of you stay like that for a long while, not caring about the looks the other prisoners send your way. By the time you finally stop crying, no tears left, the sun has set, though it can’t be too late, given you can still hear plenty of people outside.

“You’ve grown up beautifully,” your father leans back, finally getting a good look at you. His hand “What were you doing with the king?” He questions.

“I love him. And he loves me, I think.” You bury your face in your hands. “I told him you were innocent but he...he got mad at me,” you say. “He didn’t give me a chance to explain things before calling for the guards.”

Before either of you can say anything, Eunji comes running up to the wooden bars, Prince Jungkook not far behind.

“Y/N! What happened? We saw the guards arresting you, but nobody would tell us why.”

“How did you get in here?” You rise from where you were sitting with your father, meeting your best friend at the locked door.

Eunji jerks her head towards where Prince Jungkook stands next to her, smiling awkwardly at you. “Bunny here got them to let us in. But you didn’t answer my question!”

You explain the situation to her, starting with when your father’s wife sent you away. Eunji knows, already, but for the prince’s sake, you explain again. You tell them how your father was framed for treason and about how you begged Yoongi to spare him. When you tell them how he reacted, your best friend rolls up her sleeves.

“I’m going to go give him a piece of my mind,” she turns to march away before Prince Jungkook pulls her back, looking at you apologetically.

“Hyung doesn’t hate you,” he says. “He loves you so much it’s actually disgusting,” he wrinkles his nose. “I think he’s probably really confused and a little hurt. You have to understand that he had to learn the hard way how important it is that he trust the right people.”

“That doesn’t make it okay!” Eunji’s outburst earns her a poke in the side.

“I never said it was. I’m just trying to explain things from Yoongi-hyung’s perspective. I’ll try to talk to him, but we can’t stay here much longer.”

You say goodbye to the two of them and move back to sit next to your father again who, despite obviously being in worse shape than you, takes your hand in his as you rest your head on his shoulder.

That night, Yoongi plagues your dreams, forcing you to watch him to execute your father again and again.

It’s the third night in the cell when your father gently shakes you awake from where you lie on the cold stone ground.

“Y/N, wake up.” For a moment, it feels like you’re a child again, having fallen asleep on the floor in his study while he worked. “Wake up,” he shakes you again. “His Majesty wants to talk to you.”

You rub your eyes as you sit up, trying to get a bearing on your surroundings. Sure enough, Yoongi stands at the entrance to your cell, the door opened likely by whoever just turned the corner. You can’t read the expression on his face in the dim torchlight, but you don’t care. Seeing him again brings tears to your eyes, stomach twisting into knots wondering why he’s here.

“What,” you ask shortly, unable to keep your teeth from chattering in the winter, cold having seeped into your bones after the first night.

“Jungkook told me to come and talk to you,” he says, and you can feel his eyes bore into you even though you aren’t looking at him.

“You didn’t want to talk three days ago,” you say angrily, glaring at the disapproving look your father sends your way.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the way his tongue pokes at his cheek, mulling over his words. “I was mad. And hurt. I know that’s no excuse for my actions but—will you please look at me, love?”

“Oh, so now you love me again?”

“I never stopped. I was just mad. More at myself for thinking I couldn’t trust you anymore, than you.” he explains. “You’ve given me no reason not to trust you but even still, I lashed out at you.”

“It really hurt, you know, when you didn’t trust me.”

“I know.” Yoongi’s eyes sweep over your form, taking in the way your eyes are sunken in, and how you seem thinner. You’re shivering, he notices, and he’s mad at himself for allowing this to happen to you. Hesitantly, he steps towards you, relieved when you don’t move away from him.

“Jungkook practically yelled at me,” he chuckles self-deprecatingly. “Told me if I didn’t fix things that he would assassinate me himself, the little brat.” His words pull a quiet laugh from you, the corners of your mouth tugging upward ever so slightly.

“That sounds like him,” you say, still not meeting his gaze.

“It does, doesn’t it.” He sits across from where you sit on the floor, not minding that the stone is cold, or that he’s dirtying his robes, though he knows that were things how they normally were, you would chastise him. “Won’t you look at me, love?”

Slowly, you turn to face him, eyes meeting his own. Your resolve begins to crumble when you see how tired he looks, and you wonder if he’s slept at all. His robes are wrinkled and his hair is in disarray, much different from the put-together Yoongi you know.

“Jungkook explained things to me,” he looks to your father who watches him carefully from where he’s seated. “I’m sorry for my rash behavior,” he gets on his knees, bowing to your father.

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he turns to you, still bowing. “I hurt you, and I can’t take back what I did, but if you’ll let me, I want to make things right.”

“W-wait,” you shuffle forward, trying to push him so that he’s sitting upright again, but he doesn’t budge.

The rest of the people here begin to stir from their sleep, and nothing good would come from them seeing Yoongi, the king, bowing to a palace maid on the floor. You try again to get him to sit up straight, whispering harshly in your distress.

“Will you get up? Please?”

“Only when you promise to let me make it up to you.”

“Fine! Fine, you can make it up to me, but please, will you get up?”

“Promise to come with me.”

You look to your father who looks way too amused at the scene playing out in front of him, all things considered. “I can’t just leave him here,” you say.

"It would look suspicious if I let him out after the whole court knows what happened, but I promise I’ll make things right,” he looks at you intently.

Only after your father waves you away, ensuring he’ll be okay, do you leave the cell, exiting the building with Yoongi. You make a promise to get your dad out of there, looking back to see Jimin waving encouragingly as you leave.

Yoongi brings you to his room, ordering servants to draw a hot bath for you and bring a clean change of clothes. You try to get him to stop fussing over you, but he doesn’t listen. Soon enough, you’re sitting in the king’s bath with several changes of clothes available to you, Yoongi pacing behind the screen.

The silence between the two of you is deafening. It’s so different from the comforting quiet that falls over the two of you when you’re simply content to be in the other’s presence. This time though, it’s clear neither one of you is quite sure how to move forward from here, and you say the first thing that comes to mind.

“I still love you.” Though quiet, Yoongi’s silhouette freezes on the other side of the partition, the rhythmic sound of his feet stopping. You busy yourself by playing with your hair, dragging it through the water.

You hear the king take a deep breath before speaking. “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, you know. You can still leave if you want. After we clear things up with your father. I won’t stop you.”

“Will you help me wash my hair?”

The request catches him by surprise, and he hesitates before stepping around the screen. He pulls a stool up behind you, rolling his sleeves up before he gently begins to massage the soap into your hair.

“I’m still mad,” you say. “And I’m hurt, but even now, the idea of leaving you makes me sad. But,” you continue, “I need to know that you can trust me. I’m sure you have some questions about what Prince Jungkook said.”

Yoongi’s hands slow, trying to figure out what to ask. “Why didn’t you tell me about your past?”

“It’s not exactly something I enjoy telling people about. The only person that knew was Eunji, and even she doesn’t know much.”

“But he’s a nobleman, surely you could have reached out to him?” His hands have stopped all together now, but you don’t mind. In spite of everything that’s happened, his presence still calms you.

“Maybe, but I was young, I didn’t know what to do. When I finally understood what happened, I thought it would be better if I stayed out of his life. I’m an illegitimate child, there’s not much going for him in a household like that.”

Though the silence is still heavy, it’s more bearable this time. He helps you get out of the water, draping a towel over you as you shiver. Yoongi doesn’t know what lines he can and can’t cross, so he goes back to sit on the bed to wait for you.

When you step into his room, you immediately sit beside him, leaning against him. His familiar scent comforts you as you listen to his breathing. His body feels hot next to your own, and you move his arm so that it rests on your shoulders.

“Let’s go to bed, I’m tired.”

“Of course, love.”

You fall asleep before you’ve fully lied down. Yoongi gently wraps his arms around you, almost as if he’s afraid you’ll have disappeared into the night when he wakes up in the morning.

Both of you sleep better that night than you have the past several days.

It takes a while for evidence suggesting your father’s innocence to surface, and even longer still for them to find the person who framed him in the first place. During those weeks there’s a brief period of uncertainty between Yoongi and you, but things returned to normal not long after.

Evenings that were once spent in his arms became occupied by visiting your father and making sure he’s okay. With some assistance from Jimin, sneaking food to him was easy and he looked to be faring much better now that he was getting proper sustenance.

Eunji and Prince Jungkook are the first people you talked to the day after being released and though they assured you that you didn’t need to thank them, you did so anyway, promising to help them with something whenever the need arose.

Now, several weeks later, you stand outside the prison, waiting for your dad to come out. Despite having met with him multiple times already, you can’t stop the way you shake with nervousness and anticipation.

Noticing this, Yoongi wraps his hand around your own, fingers intertwining as he squeezes reassuringly. “Take a deep breath, love.”

“What if he decides he doesn’t want me anymore?” You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. “Or he doesn’t care about me anymore?” It’s been years since you last saw each other, after all.

“Did you not see the way he was glaring at me when I went to talk to you that night?” A breathy chuckle escapes him as he recalls the mistakes that lead to that moment. “He looked like he wanted my head on a pike for making you cry like that.”

You don’t remember any of that, but you suppose you were too distressed to pay attention to anything other than Yoongi at that moment. You don’t remember much of that night, to be entirely honest. Your emotions had been overwhelming, and you blocked most of them out.

The two of you turn towards the sound of approaching footsteps, Jimin leading your father out to where you’re waiting. “One Song Jiyeon, as requested” he says with a bright smile on his face, eyes crinkling into crescent moons before he turns and goes back to his post.

Were you not so on edge right now you would have stuck your tongue out at the Captain of the Guard, but you’re at a loss for what to do. You take a step towards your dad before stopping. Is hugging him still acceptable? You are no longer the little girl that clung to his robes whenever he had to go to work in the mornings. Thankfully he makes the decision for you, wrapping his arms around you.

It’s strange, no longer needing to crane your neck to look up at him. He doesn’t need to bend down to hug you anymore, either. Even though it’s been more than a decade, he still smells like ink and parchment, and you realize now why the Royal Archives had always felt so familiar to you.

The cuts and scrapes that littered his face are gone, and his hair is no longer in disarray. Now that you see him in the sunlight, you can see the signs of aging at the corners of his eyes when he smiles at you, and in the greyed hairs that can be seen growing in his beard. He looks good though, like he’s lived well these past years.

“Let me get a good look at you,” he steps away so that you’re an arm’s length away, hands resting on your shoulders as he takes you in. His eyes soften as they sweep over your face, his mouth spreading into a gentle smile. “You look so much like your mother,” he says fondly. You think he’s about to cry before he blinks the tears away.

“Really?” You never met your mother who died shortly after giving birth to you, and you think that Minseo, your father’s wife, was glad for it, though she would never say it outright. She would treat you like her daughter in her husband’s presence but would ignore you otherwise.

“Really. I’m so glad that I can see the beautiful woman you’ve grown up to be. I’m proud to be your father.”

Though the scene in front of him is touching, Yoongi coughs awkwardly from where he stands a little ways away, avoiding making eye contact with either you or your father. “I’m glad that the two of you have crossed paths again,” he says, “but perhaps we can move this to somewhere a little more private?”

You become aware of the dozens of eyes on the three of you and step away. “Maybe that would be for the best, appa.”

Wordlessly, the three of you make your way to the king’s study. You haven’t been back since your argument with Yoongi, and your stomach knots at the unpleasant memories. He sits behind his desk, you and your father sitting across from him.

“Despite the unique circumstances, I want to thank you for bringing Y/N into the world.” Yoongi looks at your father with sincerity, eyes flitting to your own only briefly. “And,” he continues, “I would like to formally ask for your permission to marry her and make her my queen.”

For the second time in less than a month—and likely in all his time as king—he prostrates himself before your father who looks at him in bewilderment.

“Why should I let her marry you if you just turn your back on her every time someone says something against her?”

“Appa,” you glare at him, but he keeps looking at the young man before him.

“Your father’s right, Y/N.” Yoongi sits up, looking the man in the eyes.

“Being queen isn’t easy, Y/N. People will try to hurt you either through words or actions. I need to know that he won’t turn on you so easily.”

You know what Yoongi meant now when he said your father was glaring at him. You have no doubt that, were he not king, he would be dead where he sits. It’s strange though, seeing your father, who has never been anything but kind, look at someone so sternly.

“I promise, sir, that from now until the day I die, I will always be on her side.”

Your father looks at him long and hard, and you can see the way Yoongi’s knuckles turn white with how tightly clenched his fists are. His shoulders stop rising and falling as he holds his breath, worried about what your father might say next.

“Very well, son. Make her happy.”

Yoongi’s shoulders sag in relief, and he releases the breath he’d been holding. The gummy smile that you’re so fond of makes an appearance, and you let out a sigh before turning to your father.

“Can you stop acting so scary now? If you’d gone on any longer I think he would have passed out.”

The indignant scoff the king lets out doesn’t go unnoticed, but you chose not to torment him anymore--at least for the time being. The three of you make small talk over tea for a while before your father says he has to return home for the night.

You invite Yoongi to send your dad off together but he lets you go on your own, allowing the two of you some privacy. Now that word of your parentage has gotten out, there was sure to be less opposition to your marriage, though you doubt anything could stop the king.

“Are you sure you can’t stay a little longer?” You turn to face your father when you reach the palace gates.

Laughing warmly, he nods his head. “I have to go back home to your younger brother,” he says fondly. You’d learned that Minseo gave birth to a son not long after she sent you away, and you’re glad for it, happy that your father still got to see one of his children grow up. “You should come meet Taehyung sometime. I think you’d like him.”

He says nothing of his wife or if he’ll confront her about it, but you don’t care at the moment. She has no power over you anymore, and you’d prefer not to revisit the past again.

When you return to your room, Yoongi’s arms wrap around your waist from behind as he trails light kisses along your neck and collarbone, before his fingers deftly begin removing your clothing.

“I just got back!” You laugh, trying to squirm away from him.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he asks, voice deep and husky. “How long I’ve wanted to hear your pretty little moans as I make you come on my cock?”

You blush at his obscene words, heat pooling in your core as he turns you to face him, pulling him into a kiss, trying to show him how much he means to you. Putting all of your love and adoration into the action, you drag your hands over his chest, feeling the toned muscle beneath the silk fabric.

Moaning into the kiss, you fist the material of his robes as he finally rids you of your last article of clothing. His hands immediately find your breasts. The way his fingers twist and pull at your nipples mixed with the frigid winter air causes them to harden as goosebumps spread across the sensitive skin.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” He moves his mouth down along your jaw, nipping at your collarbone and earning a yelp of surprise from you. Pushing you up against the wall, he moves down even further, marking the supple skin of your chest. Wrapping your hands around the back of his head, you arch into him as you feel the familiar clench of your walls as they search for stimulation. Light pink blooms decorate you all the way down to your navel before he finally stops and looks up at you from where he kneels before you.

“F-fuck, Yoongi.” He smirks at the way his name falls from your lips, red and swollen.

“I’d love to feast on you again, love, but I’m afraid that will have to wait for another night,” he says as he looks down at the tent in his robes. “Will you give me all of you?”

You nod your head vehemently. When he stays on the ground even when you try to pull him up into another kiss, you whine, hips shifting in his hold before he pins them to the wall with more force.

“I need you to say it, love. Need to know that you want me just as badly as I want you.” Thumbs rub circles into your hips as he holds you there, looking up at you with hooded eyes, pupils blown wide with lust.

“Yes!” The word comes out louder and more desperate than you meant but you continue all the same, voice softening into a whine, desperation evident. “Yes, please, Yoongi. Make me yours.”

The words barely leave your lips before he lifts you up and deposits you on your bed, hastily removing his royal robes and letting his hair down, dropping the sangtugwan on top of the discarded clothes.

His hair falls down around his face, framing the delicate features and emphasizing the scar that runs over his eye. He pushes your legs further apart, settling between them as his fingers trace patterns up your legs. Despite the cold, the digits leave searing heat in their wake and you whine in need.

“I’m going to make you mine,” he growls, “going to make you my queen. Do you want that? To belong to each other not only in name, but to know that nobody but the king can pleasure you like I can?”

“Yes, please,” you cry out as he circles your clit, hips rising to meet his ministrations before his unoccupied hand pins you down to the bed.

He pinches the bud harshly, a pained cry leaving your lips. “Whose are you, Y/N?”

“Yours! I belong to you!” Your hips fight against his hold, wanting more than what he’s giving you.

“That’s right,” he affirms, one of his fingers swiping through your folds, glistening with your arousal in the dimly lit room. “And who am I?”

“My king!” You don’t miss the way his cock twitches at the title, a bead of precum leaking from the angry red head.

Fingers continue to tease your entrance, your pleas echoing in the room. You swivel your hips to try and increase the pressure applied to your clit, but Yoongi pulls away entirely before his hand lands on your exposed cunt, a harsh slap sounding throughout your room. The pain spreads quickly but is replaced by pleasure just as fast, a long drawn out moan escaping you.

“A-ah, fuck,” you whine, trying to close your legs to get away from his grasp.

“Behave for your king,” he commands. Your walls clench when he brings his hand down again, the reaction not going unnoticed by him as he chuckles. “Do you like it when I hit your pretty little clit?” When you fail to answer him his hand comes down again, as your back arches off the bed. “Answer me.”

“Yes! I like it!”

Yoongi scoffs at your answer, almost like he’s disgusted with you, but the way his length shifts between his legs says otherwise. “What do you think the people would say if they knew their future queen was nothing more than a common whore,” he poses the words as a question, and humiliation burns through you. “Look at you, you’re soaking wet after just a couple of hits to your little pussy.”

Fingers drag through your folds, collecting your juices before smearing the digits across your lips. “Taste yourself, love.”

Your tongue darts out from between your lips as you moan. The heady taste of your essence coats your taste buds as Yoongi collects more of it before he rubs it into your nipples, pinching and pulling at the peaks as you whine in need.

“Please, Yoongi, make me feel good.” Your mind wanders to the night he spent eating you out, something that feels so far away now.

“You said that last time too,” he chuckles, feigning confusion as he continues toying with your breasts, a pout on his lips. “Do I not make you feel good?”

“I-I want more.”

He smacks his hand against your chest, admiring the way the mound bounces from the impact. “You’ll take what your king gives you and be grateful for it, slut.”

The way he spits the last word at you makes you clench in need, desperate to be filled. You brush your hips against his erection, whining at the contact before he pushes your hips back down onto the bed.

In contrast to his words though, he slides two of his fingers into you. Slowly, Yoongi begins moving them in and out of your entrance, fucking the digits into you shallowly as you squirm against his hold. It’s not enough to bring you to the edge, but it’s more than enough to have you pleading for more.

“Be quiet, love. If I hear you moan, I’ll stop.”

You can feel your arousal drip down onto the bed and you can hear it when the pads of his fingertips brush against your walls, pushing against the spot that causes your back to arch up every once in a while to keep you on your toes.

True to his words, Yoongi continues like this for what feels like hours. Somewhere along the way he adds a third finger to the mix. He speeds up only to slow down when you moan too loudly for his liking, keeping his fingers still inside you until your walls stop tightening around the digits.

“Please,” you beg, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers when he stops moving them. Tears pool in your eyes in desperation, needing him to give you more. “Make me yours, my king.”

“Fuck.” Faster than your lust addled mind can comprehend, he flips you over on to your hands and knees, palming at the soft flesh of your ass. He slides his length through your sensitive folds, relishing in the moans you reward him with. “I’m going to make you mine. Gonna fuck you so hard that all of Joseon will know it’s me who pleasures you.”

For all his haste, he still has enough sense about him to remember that you have not slept with a man before, and so he sheathes himself in your heat slowly, hissing at how tight you are. He almost loses himself right there, with your cunt squeezing around him in a vice like grip.

Your walls burn as they stretch to accommodate him, not used to having more than two or three fingers. You whine at the discomfort, Yoongi gently stroking your hair and whispering words of reassurance. He stays there, hips pressed firmly against your own waiting for you to adjust to him.

When the pain subsides and the stretch becomes pleasurable, you hesitantly pull off of him until only the head remains, pushing back onto his cock slowly. Gradually, you increase your pace, fucking yourself on him as he allows you to get accustomed to having him inside of you.

“Please,” you whine, shimmying your hips against his pelvis.

“What do you want, love? Tell me how I can pleasure my queen.”

You aren’t sure what you want, but you know you want more of whatever it is. “More,” you whine, looking back at him over your shoulder.

He looks like sin, hair falling over his forehead, scar shining like gold in the warm candlelight. His hands grip your hips bruisingly, as he pulls out of you until just the tip remains buried in you, looking at the way your juices coat his length, dripping onto the blankets beneath you.

“I want more, my king. Please, I need you”

No more is needed before he roughly yanks on your hips, pulling you to meet his own thrusts as a strangled moan claws its way up your throat. He sets a fast pace, balls smacking into your clit every time he forces his member into your wet heat.

“I’m going to show the whole court that you’re my queen. Would you like that?”

You cry out in pleasure when his fingers brush against the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, rubbing tight circles around the bud. “Yes!”

“Fuck, turn over. I want to see your face when you come apart on my cock.”

Yoongi pushes your thighs up against your chest in the new position, torn between the way your breasts bounce with each of his thrusts, and the way his member disappears in your walls. In the end, his eyes settle on your chest, admiring the curves of your body as he fucks into you.

“I’m going to put a baby in you,” he grunts. “Would you like that? To know that you’re carrying your king’s child in your womb?” He hisses when he feels your heat clamp down around him. “What a filthy queen I have,” he chuckles condescendingly at you, loving the way your face scrunches up in pleasure. “You’re just a little slut, aren’t you? Desperate to have my cum leaking out of your cunt for days.”

“Yes! I want you to fill me with your seed.” The words leave your lips before you have time to think about what you’re saying. “Put a baby in me, my king.”

“Fuck. Come for me love, let me see you come on my cock.” He releases one of your legs to circle your clit, toying with the bud as you feel your climax wash over you. Your vision goes white as all the strength disappears from your body, Yoongi chasing his own high as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

The pleasure borders on pain from the oversensitivity when he finally comes, painting your walls white as you continue to spasm around his cock, milking every last drop from him. Slowing his thrusts until they eventually come to a halt, he lets your legs down and brushes the hair away from your face.

Your eyes are glassy as you look at him, a satisfied smile on your face. Yoongi looks at you reverently, burning the image of you into his mind; flushed cheeks, hair sticking to your forehead, your lips parted in a sigh.

“I love you, Yoongi. No matter what.” You reach a hand up to tangle it in his hair, playing with the strands as they fall and brush against your neck, tickling the sensitive skin.

“And I love you, Song Y/N,” he looks down at you, cupping your cheek in his hand with nothing but love and adoration in his eyes. “With every fiber of my being and every fragment of my soul, I love you.”

#bangtanarmynet #btswritersguild #mygsnet #ficswithluv #bangtansmutcentral #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #idk how to tag it's been so long since i posted something

3K notes · View notes