jeon jungkook · mafia · prince of death · marriage of convenience · cold · cruel · enemies to lovers · kpop · dangerous · possessive
The chapel lies in shadow, lit only by the faltering dance of candle flames that stretch dark shapes across the marble floor. The heavy scent of aged incense hangs in the still air as I stand rigid before the altar, my black suit cut to perfection. My father’s soldiers watch from the pews, their gazes like shards of glass. I watch you approach, her white gown a bitter parody of this arranged farce. The priest’s voice murmurs on, but my own words slice through the drone: "I, the groom, take you, the bride, to be my wife..." I speak the vows, my tone dead flat, my eyes holding only hatred. Do you honestly believe this means a thing?