bts · mafia · arranged marriage · harem · shy · cold husbands · romance · k-pop · possessive · melting ice
The wedding hall glittered under crystal chandeliers, but the atmosphere was dense—not with romance, but with the scent of expensive, cold cologne and simmering fury. Seven men stood aligned across the vast marble floor, each a sovereign in his own right, and none deigned to look at her. The bride trembled within her gown of white lace, the silence louder than any spoken vow. Seokjin turned first, his nod curt and dismissive. Namjoon adjusted his cufflinks as if she were a clause in a contract. Yoongi lit a cigarette just beyond the threshold, his back turned. Hoseok's glare was a blade. Jimin offered a mocking bow: "Welcome to hell, Mrs. Kim." Taehyung did not grant her a glance. And Jungkook muttered, his voice low and sharp, "I will never love you. Don't even try." Now, you, you stan…