#failaise halloween

[failaise]

corpse groom | min yoongi au

summary: after your death, the man who believes himself to be your husband is relentless in his pursuit. 

genre: smut/romance

band member: yoongi from bts

based off this song from the corpse bride 

death!au, corpse bride!au, reader!victor, yoongi!emily, 

warnings: deals with the concept of death, the afterlife, and the creators. this is just my interpretation of the movie and is not meant to offend any religion who believes in something other than this for the afterlife. if it somehow does, please send me a message so that i can improve this story without offending any culture or religion!

OCTOBER FICS 1/?

Your annoyance seemed to fade with each step forwards into the forest. 

The serene silence lulled your indignance. A soft breeze brushed your hair behind your ears and you found yourself, for the first time in days, smiling without force. That heaviness of your chest seemed to lift, blowing like billows of smoke up into the white sky. Beneath your boots, snow crunched into footprints, deep and with purpose. 

For once, you could breathe- away from parents, away from families, away from that devilish marriage you were meant to entertain a thought with. Your eyes were tired yet wide, barely registering the sights before you. You hadn’t slept in days, maybe. Hadn’t eaten in days, either. How could you eat when your future was being pried from your cold fingers? The idea of marrying someone whom you’d never met, of devoting your life and womanhood to a man who was an impeccable nuisance. He expected a wife, kids- for you to stay home to be both. Your heart yearned for more. Real love was amongst your desires of life. 

Paused, you found yourself stood before a clearing. Tree branches stuck out from the ground, of different shapes and sizes, while the tiny round tops of stone peeked out from the snow. You’d never gotten this far before. You wondered how long you’d been walking for. 

Pursing your lips, you continued forwards, collapsing tiredly onto a clear-cut stump.

Thoughts of your overly-exhausting day came flooding back. You caught yourself thinking of the manner of Victor, the kind but annoyance of a fiancé. He discussed his ideas of children with such an eager manner, your stomach felt ill. He expected three, one right after your wedding night. He expected you to give all, especially the dowry. Yes, he seemed quite eager about a dowry. 

Money is what drove these insanely mundane people. Your parents, wanting to climb the social ladder by marrying you off to the red-haired supposedly wealthiest family in your town. Well, if they were so wealthy, why did his parents seem so excited about the prospect of the dowry? 

“Mmm,” you mimicked their snotty voices, “’shall we discuss the… hmm.. prospects of marriage?’“ Pushing yourself to your feet, you rested your hands on your hips, ignoring the bite of cold on your noise. “‘Yes, my dear’,” you continued, spinning around to the short stump, which quite perfectly imitated Victor, your fiancé’s father. You gave it a kick. 

“With this hand,” your initiation of Victor’s nasally voice was, in your opinion, fitting, “I will lift your sorrows.” 

Twisting your shoulders, you reached out to shake a bony branch. “Your cup shall never empty, for I will be your wine.” 

The vows were incredibly cliche. You had hoped you would be able to write your own, someday- vows that didn’t sound as if you were sentencing your future to some somber death. Lowering yourself to your knees, you bent at the hips before a branch, outstretched through the snow. Your gaze flickered to the engagement ring, sparkling and small on your finger. 

“With this candle,” you twisted the ring, a size too tiny, from your hand, “I will light your way in darkness.” 

A cold gust of wind brushed your hair behind your face, caressing your cheek softer than a lover could. The hush whisper of the forest life quietened, as if all the creatures were now stopped, listening to you profess your undying devotion for a branch. 

You slipped the ring onto the wood. It fell until it hit the snow, resting there comfortably. 

“With this ring, I ask you to be mine.” 

Somehow this escapade had made you feel… better. Marriage to a branch would be better than to Victor, and perhaps your vows, sad as they were, could one day be said positively to someone who you felt true love for. Sighing, you sat back in the snow, falling backwards into the clouds of white. Your body felt chilly but your heart was at ease, beating softly within the ribbed confines of your chest. The sky looked so beautiful then. You wished you could stare at it forever. 

You weren’t sure how long you laid there, poised in ice and breathing slow. Your eyelids felt heavy and your limbs tired, weighing pounds, sinking into the snow. A long sigh escaped your lips, and after a moment of hesitation, your eyes fluttered shut, finally at peace. 

Mmmmm.

It felt so nice. You hadn’t had a nap that peaceful since weeks ago. 

Smiling softly, you moved your arms from their spot, stretching your sore legs. 

Almost at once, you realized something was different. Your body was no longer cold. You couldn’t feel the breeze of night, or the tiny noises of woodland creatures. Your eyes flew open and you shot upwards. What you beheld was not snow, or trees, or the darkness of night. 

You were in a room. A nice one, at that. It had been decorated simply, a vase of dark blue roses by your bed. And your bed- you jumped to examine it quickly, only to find that it was shaped as a coffin, though with more luxurious cushioning. A silk blanket had been draped over your frame; it slipped to the ground in a puddle when you stood. 

Your chest felt tight. You felt as if you couldn’t breathe, and with a shock you found that you weren’t. Your chest wasn’t expanding, your lungs weren’t working. With eyes wide as saucers, you clasped at your throat, and spun to find the exit. 

The door to enter was shut. You rushed to open it, though you hesitated. You had no clue as to where you were, or what drugs you’d been given, or who had abducted you. 

Swallowing, you found your courage to twist the handle. The door swung back with one long, eerie creak. Its openness revealed a hallway, long and dark and dimly lit by torches hung on the wall. You tip-toed forwards, sure to be quiet, until you came to the end of it. The hall ended at another set of doors, and through the windows of the lobby you stood in, you could see that there were people around. 

It looked like your village. Yet, it was dark. You couldn’t see the sky, or clouds, or any type of sun. A grim shadow fell over the town. Vinery climbed up the walls of tall, skinny buildings. Neon green lights flashed in the windows of what looked like bars, and a fountain stood in the midst of it all. 

Confusion began to level your fright. Gulping down your fear, you continued forwards, sure that perhaps this was just some very twisted nightmare and that you’d wake in the snow, ready to go home. Suddenly the idea of marrying Victor became better than this. 

There was no cold or hot, no breeze of any sort as you stepped out into the town. You could only compare this to limbo, the empty space between heaven and hell. 

In the name of the lords, were you…. 

dead? 

The nearest person who walked past, you grabbed. “Sir?” 

The man spun around by your force, starkingly revealing a face of green and rotting, and a maggot crawling out from the empty black space where his left eye should have been. Brown, sharp teeth revealed themselves as he looked upon you with kind curiosity, “Yes?”

You let go of him instantly, trying your best not to gasp at the ungodly sight before you. Your words died on your tongue as the man squinted with his one good black eye, and something like understanding dawned upon his face. 

“You’re the new wife,” he finally said. 

You blinked, licking your chapped lips, “The what?” 

The man began to speak, but his raspy voice was cut off by some low, smooth one. 

“Wife,” it said, moving from the shadows of an alley between Emily’s Pie Shop and Snake Lounge. “You’re my wife.” 

“Excuse me?” 

The figure appeared before you, unsheathed by the darkness that had clothed him. You first noticed that he was a bit taller than you, and skinny, dressed nicely in a slightly-torn black suit, as if he were getting ready to go to a wedding. His skin was deathly pale and smooth, unlike the person before you, and he had hair of silky black locks that fell loosely around his head. Moon-shaped, dark eyes sparkled in the street fires, and light pink lips curved into the tiniest of smirks. 

“Your wife?” You repeated incredulously. “I’m- who- what’s-” 

“Perhaps you should take a moment to sit, my love,” the stranger moved towards you with a hand outstretched, ready to guide you to a chair. You jumped back from him in defense. “Really, beautiful, it is best if you’re sitting when I tell you. You must be very scared.” 

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child,” you snapped, eyes narrowed at the handsome man. “Tell me where I am and who you are.” 

“Firstly,” he took a hesitant step towards you, apparently not wanting to frighten you further. You squared your jaw. “You are where every… dead person goes. We call it Fors, which means Luck.” 

Your eyes grew wide once again. If you could have felt your heart beating, you were sure it would have stopped. 

“’Where every… dead person goes’?” Your mouth felt unbearably dry. Did you need water? Could you drink water? 

And while you wished it wasn’t true, it felt as if the knowledge he was telling you was already known; it was as if you were refreshing your mind on a topic you learned when you were young. Dead. Suddenly, the word wasn’t frightening. You weren’t sure why a wash of relief fell onto your skin, or why what he said made sense- it hadn’t before. 

“My love,” he took a step towards you, and you glanced up at him, “I found you in the snow after your vows. You seemed so lovely, so at peace. Your heart, unfortunately, dear, had ultimately been slowed until your breaths were no more.”

You had been so tired. You hadn’t eaten in days, hadn’t slept in days. Perhaps you were foolish to think that winter wouldn’t claim you, knowing your health wasn’t in perfect shape. Your mind wasn’t either. And perhaps this was for the better. Victor was gone, no longer a nuisance. Yet, your heart felt heavy with the knowledge that your excitement for education, for adventure, for travel- it had all been snuffed out by the cold grasp of November. 

“And myself,” he continued, raising his left hand to sight and momentarily silencing your thoughts. In the darkness of the town, the torch lights lit up the burgundy amber settled in the golden engagement ring on his finger.  “My name is Min Yoongi, and I am your husband.”

AHA yes i am doing october ficcs now!!! send in your spookiest ideas for bts and got7 halloween fics circa 2017!