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crowsofdarkness · 5 months ago

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Soldat: Chapter Seven

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Agent! Reader. Slight Steve Rogers x Female Agent! Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + implied smut, angst, fluff, kidnapping, violence.

Summary: Agent Y/N has worked alongside Steve Rogers at SHIELD for some time all while keeping a dark secret from everyone. Until one day that darkness faces her head on and she's forced to make a choice. Continue fighting along side Captain America? Or find her home once again with Soldat?

Authors Note: This was originally published on my old blog as a trilogy so I will be in the slow process of adding it to this blog. This is the first of the trilogy and will take place during The Winter Soldier. If anyone is interested in being tagged, let me know!

Very slight implied smut in this chapter, very tame. Also, there are three chapters left! Once Soldat is complete, I will begin posting the next in the series.

Tags: @globetrotter28 @sakuracyberhex @chinggay85-blog @bookofriverr @misatxox @that-blonde-girl

Soldat Masterlist

Day One

Eyes fluttered open softly, allowing the light to blind me for a few seconds as I stared up at the crackling ceiling. I followed the lines, hoping that it would lead me to an idea where I was but came up empty as I realized I was in a room with no windows, one door, and the lone cot I was currently laying on. My heart thumped in fear as I tried to remember how I ended up here.

I was drinking in a bar in Siberia as I was going over my notes for the local terrorist group I was following. I was alone for most of the night until a strange man came up beside me, gun pressed to my side, muttering in my ear that I had to go with him or else.

The last thing I could remember was getting thrown into the back of a van and darkness. The watch on my wrist indicated that happened..

Sixteen hours ago?!

“What the fuck happened to me?” I groaned, clutching my forehead.

The door clicked open, men dressed in European military uniforms catching my immediate attention.

“Where am I?” I spoke in the native tongue.

They ignored me, continuing on with their own conversation and paid no attention as they stood guard at the door, guns slightly drawn.

Discreetly, I slid my hand down my calf trying to feel if the knife I stashed into my boot was still there.

“You think we would leave you with a weapon?”

A small man entered the room now, glasses perched high on his nose. He gently removed his hat, handing it to one of the guards before sitting on a chair in front of my cot.

“Who are you?” I questioned.

He merely tsk’d before pulling a grey folder from his briefcase. “Y/N L/N. You’ve been an agent with the FBI for almost two years now and you’ve only been on one case. Why is that?”

“Is that a file on me?” My eyes landed on the file.

“You were on New York SWAT for three years before this but had to leave for ‘different opinions’ pertaining to a rather personal case.”

“That’s no one's business but my own,” I snapped. “You shouldn’t even have that information.”

“I’m a very powerful man, Ms. L/N. I have many ways to get the information I want. Just like how you got info about me.”

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” I squinted my eyes at him.

“You’ve been looking for me for the last six months. I thought we could finally meet.” He gave me a small smile.

“Wait,” my eyes widened. “You’re Dr. Zola? I thought you were dead. That’s why it’s been so hard to find you.”

The older gentleman clicked his tongue against his teeth. “No, not Zola. But his apprentice. You can call me Dr. Berge”

“Why did you kidnap me? To shut me up?” I crossed my arms over my chest, foot shaking with nerves.

Dr. Berge handed one of the guards the folder before shaking his head. “Our last student didn’t make it. We needed someone new.”

“Stu-student?” I stuttered.

“Yes, for Soldat.” Bergenodded.

“Soldat?”

He answered my question with a wave; a new man entered the small room. My tired eyes raked in his appearance from head to toe. He was dressed in combat boots and black cargo pants. His broad chest was covered in a black vest, various pockets that held God only knew what, his long brown hair was falling into his eyes but did nothing to fix it. The only thing that held my gaze, however, was his left arm. It wasn’t like his right; this one was made entirely of metal.

“Who’s this?” I questioned, voice shaking with fear.

“Ah Soldat, meet your new student. Hopefully she’ll last longer than the last one.” Berge clapped his hands before leaving the room.

Soldat remained in place, a few feet away from me, and he slowly nodded to the guards.

“Leave us,” he demanded in Russian.

Suddenly, it was just him and I, my fear being the only thing you could feel in the room by my heart beating faster and faster.

“What am I your student for?” I mustered to ask.

“To fight.”

Day 23

“I need a minute,” I gasped for air as I tried to gain some space.

“You don’t have a minute.” Soldat reminded me as he flipped me over his shoulder, my own falling hard to the mat below.

It had been a hell of a couple of weeks. I had been captured by who I had come to find was the terrorist group I had been searching for; Hydra.

Every morning and night, Soldat would come to my room and train me for hours, fighting non stop. I had yet to find out why I was being trained to fight.

Soldat barely said a word to me during these training sessions. He was instructed to train me not to make small talk. I couldn’t get a read on him, what his story was or how he ended up here.

“Mother fucker,” I cursed, clutching my shoulder. “I think it’s dislocated.”

Soldat remained silent, roughly pulling me to my feet and snapped my arm back into place causing a scream to erupt from my throat.

“That’s enough!” I screamed pushing my palms into his chest. “I’m done! No one has told me why I’m here, getting my ass kicked by a guy with a fucking metal arm!”

A small smile pulled at his lips and all the anger from being held captive here built up causing me to bring my hand back, wiping that smile off his face with my fist.

Regret filled me when I saw the quick flash of anger cloud his eyes but his deep laugh relaxed my shoulders a tad.

“That’s more like it.” He muttered while rubbing his jaw.

“I already know how to fight. I don’t need someone to teach me,” I admitted, fists clenched at my sides.

Soldat nodded. “Then next time should be easy for you.”

Day 37

The chill in the air caused me to wrap the blanket closer to me as I dug myself deeper into the bed that I started calling my own. I was unsure of the time but the tiredness in my bones made me believe it was time to let sleep succumb to me.

A soft sigh left my lips as my mind wandered yet again to the man that had been clouding it the past few weeks.

It had been almost two weeks since my last training session with Soldat. He stopped coming by in the mornings and nights which made me wonder if our sessions were over and what that meant for me.

That thought was short-lived when Berge brought in someone else to train me. He didn’t want me to forget anything while Soldat was away.

Rumor had it, Hydra sent him away from some mission.

Besides the one old guard that would bring my food twice a day, Soldat was the only constant thing in this prison that had become my home.

Heavy eyes fluttered shut, breaths becoming deeper and heavier and the long awaited sleep was so close. But the door to my room slamming open caused my eyes to snap open and I pushed myself to my knees. I watched as Soldat entered, anger clear on his face.

“Where have you-.”

The air to my lungs was constricted as Soldat wrapped his metal fingers around my throat, slamming me deeper into the cot.

I trashed against his body, nails digging into the skin of his flesh arm, not bothering him an inch. I racked my brain for all the training he had taught me to try and get out of this. I attempted to wrap my legs around his waist to flip him but he was two seconds ahead of me, his flesh hand pining my hips down onto the bed.

My body began to sweat with the fear of what was about to come.

I wrapped a hand around his metal wrist as I looked into his eyes, the light far gone from them.

“Soldat,” I choked out.

The air suddenly rushed back into my lungs causing me to cough uncontrollably as he finally let go, the bruises already starting to form I was sure.

His hand and hips kept me locked into place on the bed and his other hand gripped my chin, forcing me to look in his eyes.

“You only train with me. No one else can have you.” His voice demanded through gritted teeth.

Once I could breathe again, I gave him a sorrowful nod. “I’m sorry.”

We stayed in this position for a few more beats, his hips locking mine into place while his eyes bore into my own. His chest rose and fell with each breath, mimicking my own in the small tank top I wore; it was one of the few clothes that Hydra had lent me.

Soldat’s eyes traveled over the swell of my breasts and I felt the heat spread down to my core as he slowly ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Get some sleep. We’re starting early tomorrow,” he breathed before pushing himself off of me.

The room had a sudden chill to it as soon as he left the room and after wrapping myself into a cocoon with my blanket, I found myself falling asleep wishing it was his arms

Day 56

Chains dragged behind me as I followed the path the two guards were leading me on. We turned a corner and continued down another long hallway. They had dragged me out of bed this morning, muttering something about getting some “fresh air”.

I chuckled at their definition of fresh air; it was a small sunroom with a few potted plants and one large bench seat. Thankfully the bright sunlight beamed through the glass windows, spreading warmth into my skin.

“Ten minutes,” one of the guards demanded while tossing me a book.

They took their post on the outside of the door, backs turned to me, and I opted for not reading the book deciding I would rather stare out of the windows. This was the first time in almost two months that I had been granted access to the outside world.

Sort of.

The beautiful images of mountains scattered the skyline, the fresh snow blowing in the wind. I walked closer to the windows, peering down below and that was when I realized I was high up.

Wherever I was being held captive was on top of a mountain.

“Beautiful.”

Jumping at the deep voice, I looked over my shoulder and a small smile came to my face.

“Soldat, you’ve returned.”

He nodded, tucking a strand of hair out of his face. “I returned last night.”

“How was your mission?”

His silence was enough of an answer I needed.

“Have you been training?” He questioned, still keeping a safe distance between us.

Immediately I shook my head, the chains rattling. “They won’t let me while you're away. You’re the only one I can train with.”

Soldat turned his head, eyes taking in the appearance of the chains around my wrists and ankles. A scowl appeared underneath the stubble covering his mouth and he beckoned me over with a finger.

Swallowing thickly, I tried the best I could to walk over to him, feet coming to a halt in front of him. He gripped the chains with his metal fingers, breaking them off of me with ease.

“You’re not a monster,” he muttered.

I rubbed away the red marks on my wrists while giving him a smile of thanks. “What will happen to you once they find out?”

“You should get some rest, we have a big training session tomorrow.” Soldat spoke, ignoring my question.

I wondered with fear what exactly they would do to him. Every time he would arrive back from a mission, his screams would echo through the base, keeping me awake at night. I yearned to be with him, comfort him. He was the only constant in my life now, I would do anything to be with him; to keep him from pain.

“Will you sit with me?” I nodded to the bench. “We don’t need to talk, just your company is enough.”

His body tensed, a bit hesitant, before he nodded and we both sat down with our knees a few spaces away from each other. I reached for the book and felt his gaze burn deep into the side of my head as I quietly read the pages, Russian almost becoming a second language to me.

We sat in silence, Soldat’s eyes watching me as I carefully turned the pages of the book, enjoying the quiet company of the man who would scare others.

“Soldat, do you know what this word is? I haven’t come across this one yet.”

I pointed towards a word in the book that was giving me trouble and felt the heat radiate off of him as he leaned closer to me, his shoulder brushing against my own.

“Dorogaya. It means my darling.”

My core twitched at the Russian translation and I coughed, trying to mask my arousal. “Thank you.”

“Dorogaya,” he repeated, this time more quietly to himself.

Day 85

“Faster! Harder!”

I let the screams of slight encouragement fuel me as I landed my fists into Soldat’s bare stomach, the force behind my punches doing nothing to phase him.

He reached for my neck but I swiftly ducked while spinning on my heels, tripping him in the process. Soldat landed hard on his back, the wind being knocked out of him, and I straddled his hips with my own, my hands pinning his own above his head.

Our breaths matched in sync, eyes boring into each other, and the sight of the smirk on his face made my heart nearly burst out of its cage.

“I win,” I breathed, my breath fanning over his bare chest.

My fingers itched want to run all over his grooves and muscles. Resisting the urge, I released my grip on his hands but felt the world turn as Soldat gripped my hips, slamming me on my back. His dark eyes stared down at mine, tongue rolling antagonizing slowly between his lips. He leaned closer to my own, his warm breath breathing life into me.

“I let you win.”

“Oh really,” I cheekily asked, a flirtatious smirk pulling at my lips.

Soldat nodded with his nose brushing against my own. “Of course, dorogaya.”

My heart fluttered at the pet name he had given me. Ever since our time in the sun room together, we had slowly started becoming closer with each and every training session. I was, however, afraid to take it farther than our flirtatious comments and soft touches. I wouldn’t allow him to get in trouble, or worse; hurt. Just because of how I felt about him.

His metal fingers traced down from my cheek to my neck and rested above the lines of my breasts. My breath became erratic when the lightly brushed over my left nipple, perky already due to the coldness of the building. Fingers dug through his locks and gave a slight tug causing a groan to vibrate low in Soldat’s chest.

“Are you leaving again?” I asked.

He shook his head while palming my breast and I allowed a moan to slip through my lips.

“I told them no more missions until our training is done,” He spoke low.

I nodded.

“We really should stop. Before they find us.” I stuttered, not wanting him to stop kneading my breast with his hand.

“Let them, they can’t do anything to hurt me that they haven’t done before,” Soldat breathed into the skin of my neck.

He nipped and sucked there, leaving his mark to show the others here who I belonged to. My hands ran down the thickness of his back and I pressed my hips up into his, a loud hiss breaking its way out of his throat.

“Dorogaya,” Soldat moaned.

My fingers traced up his back, slowly fading over where his skin met metal. His body tensed, the lust in the air immediately dissipating as he pushed his body off of me. I was left alone on the dirty floor of my room as I watched him grab his shirt, throwing it over his chest.

“Did I do something?” I questioned, sitting to my knees.

“I need to go,” he grunted.

“Soldat,” I stood to my feet now, “Please tell me if I did something!”

He ignored my cries of wonder, letting the door slam behind him and drowning out my quiet sobs.

Day 124

No more training sessions.

Berge had told me that I was done training with Soldat. He had too many missions to go on and not enough time to give to me. Doubt racked my brain if that was truly the reason why they wouldn’t allow him to train me anymore. They must have found out about us.

I couldn’t dwell on it for long, Berge assigned another guard to my training. He wasn’t anything compared to Soldat; he was quiet and wouldn’t allow me the chance to improve. Only wanting to show off his strength. We had moved the training sessions in the main area of the compound, in front of every eye. But the only eyes that mattered were the ones that I wanted approval of.

Soldat would watch from a distance, not bothering to step in when the new trainer would hit me a little too hard. I wouldn’t let that phase me, though. I gave it back a hundred times harder which would only anger him more.

Which is how I ended up sporting a black eye for the last week.

Soldat almost stepped in when the new trainers hand grazed lower and lower from my back with each session. Earlier today, we had been sparring in front of all of the other guards and I did my best to ignore their gawks of stares as I attempted to land a strike to his stomach. He was a step ahead of me, twisting my wrist behind my back and pulling me into his chest. I felt his rapid breathing against my back as he leaned his lips against my ear.

“I love the way your ass fits against me,” He groaned.

I knew if I tried anything he would twist my arm higher up so I stood frozen in fear while my eyes traveled to the man in the corner, giving him silent pleads for help.

Soldat turned his back on me.

After the sparring session, I retreated back to my room, a broken woman. My ego was hurt that I had succumbed so low to these beatings in front of other men. My heart was broken that the one man I had fallen hard for wanted nothing to do with me.

A soft groan left my lips as I stared out into the darkness of the room, sleep being the farthest thing from my mind.

“God, Y/N you’ve got to move on from him,” I ran a hand over my face with a very unattractive groan leaving my lips.

“Talking to yourself again?”

Sitting up in bed, I turned on the bedside lamp and made out a large silhouette standing by the door. But even in the soft darkness, the metal arm was hard to miss.

“What are you doing here?” I questioned.

Soldat stepped closer, stopping at the foot of my bed. “I’ve come to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” My voice shook with fear.

I then noticed he was dressed in his tac gear which meant only one thing.

“You’re going on a mission?”

He nodded. “I’ll be back by tomorrow night.”

Pulling my knees to my chest, I raised my brow at him. “You’ve never said goodbye before.”

“I wanted to see you.” He gave a small shrug of his broad shoulders.

“Oh,” I mouthed.

I allowed silence to overcome us as we both stared at one another, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. My palms began to sweat seeing the fire behind his eyes and I absentmindedly bit my lip.

Soldat ran a hand through his hair before a quiet fuck it slipped from his lips. He kicked off his boots before crawling his way towards me on the bed.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He ignored my question, only rolling onto his back while pulling me into his chest and his arms wrapping around me. The rapid beating of his heart told me that he was nervous but still kept his arms tightly around me.

“I’ve been on hundreds of missions but now,” Soldat started, “Now, I’m worried about leaving you. With them.”

“I’ll be fine. You’ve taught me well.” I gave his sides a small squeeze.

“I’ve never felt this way before. It’s all new to me.” He admitted.

“What is?”

Instead of using words, Soldat’s fingers grazed my chin and pulled my face up to look into his eyes. He took a deep breath before he gently placed his plump lips over mine. The hairs on his chin and face tickled me as our lips moved slowly in sync.

My heart thumped through its cage in my chest as I ran my fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss. His own hands found their way over my stomach, down to my core and slowly ghosted over it.

“Soldat, please.” I moaned.

“You’re mine.” He grunted, fingers finally touching my heated core over my shorts. “All mine.”

“Only yours, I promise.”

My breath hitched in my throat when I felt the heat of his fingers against the skin of my stomach, brushing over the waistband of my shorts. While his flesh ones worked with the ties of my shorts, his metal one pulled the ends of my hair, forcing my eyes away from his work on my shorts.

“I’ll come back to you.” He vowed.

I nodded.

“I know you will and I’ll be here waiting for you. Always.”

Soldat brushed his lips against mine, tongue delving between my lips and danced with my own as the kiss intensified.

“I have to go.” He groaned against me.

“Stay.” I begged, clutching onto his arms.

“It’s my mission.”

Pulling away reluctantly, I gripped his chin and stared into his eyes. “Please be safe.”

“Of course, dorogaya.”

Day 131

Seven days.

One week.

168 hours.

That’s how long it had been since I last saw Soldat.

He had yet to return from his mission and what originally was supposed to be a one night mission turned into one week.

I sat on the edge of my cot with my knee bouncing in worry as I chewed roughly on my bottom lip. I feared that Berge had found out about Soldat and I, which was the reason why he had yet to return.

“Where the hell are you?” I muttered.

I waited a little while longer, eyes trained hard on the door, hoping that he would bust through any moment. But after a few minutes of nothingness, I turned my back to the door only for it to open a second later.

“Come with me.”

My eyes squinted towards the guard, confusion well on my face. “Where are you taking me? I haven’t left in a whole week.”

“Soldat’s orders.” The guard ordered.

My heart rate sped up at the mention of his name. “Is he back?”

“No but he’s requested that you stay in his living quarters now.”

“Wh-what? Why?” I sputtered.

“As a reward for completing his mission. Come now.”

The guard quickly waved me to follow and not wanting to live another minute in this tiny hell, I scrambled to my feet and followed. Not bothering to take anything with me, I tracked close behind the guard as we turned a few more corners, coming to a stop at a lone door at the end of the hallway.

The guard grunted towards the door before leaving me alone, my steady breaths coming in and out of my nose as I took a second to gain my bearings. In the months that I had been held captive here, I had never seen Soldat’s room; or anything else besides my room, the sparing center, and the “outside” room I was allowed to sit in every few days.

My hand gently grasped the cold knob and taking one last breath, I slowly pushed the door open. Before my feet crossed the threshold, I gazed around the room taking in every inch of Soldat’s private space.

It wasn’t big by any means, it would definitely be crowded with the two of us, however it warmed my heart knowing that we would be sharing that bed together. The bed was only made for one and was even small for Soldat.

Next to the bed was a table that mirrored the one I had in my room. On the top of the table rested a small lamp and a book that looked like it was read ten times over. On the other side of the room was a small dresser that had more books resting on it and next to the dresser was a door that led to somewhere I was unsure of. The large window on one wall allowed the sunset to stream in, painting the entire room in a golden light.

My gaze rested on a pair of clothes that were neatly folded on the chair in the other corner of the room. Taking a breath, I crossed over the threshold into Soldat’s room and grasped the pair of clean clothes in my hands. It was only a new pair of jeans, underwear, and a long sleeve shirt but the soft fabric was enough to bring me to tears. I had only been given new clothes once since being here and that was the first night.

“It’s not much but it’s home.”

Jumping at the deep voice, I turned on my heels and felt my heart leap to my throat. Soldat stood at the doorway, his body a clear indication of the toll the mission put on him. Stray hairs had fallen from the low bun he had pulled them in, the lines on his face screamed that he hadn’t slept in days, and his tac gear was covered in dirt and blood, the blood had also covered his metal arm in streams. Fear raked my body, wondering whose blood was all over Soldat and I bit my lip to stop from asking.

“You’re back,” I breathed.

He remained silent, his intense gaze taking over my body. His body tensed when he fell on my lips, the sight of the two cuts burning into his brain.

“What happened?”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shifted on my feet. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

“What happened?” Soldat questioned again, this time closing the distance between us.

Metal fingers gripped my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes as they danced over my face. Anger flashed across them when the soft words left my busted lips.

“Ben didn’t appreciate getting beat by a girl.”

“What did he do?” Soldat demanded.

“He just hit me a little too hard. I’m fine, Soldat.” I reassured him as I gripped his flesh arm.

The anger still flooded his veins and I linked my fingers with his metal ones, fearing he would leave me and do something we would both regret.

“You need to get yourself cleaned up,” I encouraged.

Soldat was still silent, only giving me a small nod as he pulled me with him towards the closed door.

“What?” I questioned.

“You need a bath.” He demanded.

Licking my lips, I let the fear of him seeing my bare flesh push away the thoughts of us in the bath together.

“No, you can go first Soldat. The blood is going to take awhile to clean.” I lied, hoping that would keep the thought of us naked together out of his head.

I was afraid of what he would think when he saw the bruises and scars that covered my body.

His eyes hardened, seeing right through my lies, as he gripped my arm causing a loud hiss to pass through my lips.

“Fuck,” I cursed pulling my arm to my chest.

He didn’t grip me that hard, I knew that. It only hurt because of the bruise that covered half of my forearm.

“Take off your shirt.”

The soles of my shoes were frozen to my spot, being weighed down with the fear of what Soldat was about to see.

“Sol-.” I started.

“Take it off,” his voice was deeper and rougher.

Gnawing on my bottom lip, shaky fingers gripped the bottom of my shirt, slowly raising it over my stomach and head, letting it fall to the floor in silence. Instinctively my arms wrapped around my chest, trying to cover as much as I could. Soldat didn’t make me uncomfortable; the idea of showing him my battle scars is what did.

His dark eyes were now almost black as he looked over my bareness of flesh, taking in every inch of bruises and new scars that had yet to heal over my stomach, chest, and arms. The blood had dried hours ago but the exhaustion of today’s training had stopped me from cleaning my wounds.

My mouth dried with the intensity radiating from Soldat’s body.

“We-uh, Ben decided to start the knife training today. He wouldn’t let me get a chance to prove myself. He kept stabbing and slicing,” I admitted quietly.

Soldat's tongue grazed over his bottom lip and nodded to the door behind me. “We need to clean those wounds.”

“Are you upset?”

The tone in his voice answered my question before I even asked it but I needed to make sure he wouldn’t leave, do something stupid.

He remained silent, beckoning me to follow him with a snap of his head. Obeying with a soft sigh, I trailed behind him into the bathroom that was connected to his room. The soft breeze coming from the vents caused me to wrap my arms around my bare chest, trying to keep the warmth in. I could see the way Soldat’s muscles in his back tensed as he leaned over, running hot water and letting it fill the tub. The steam danced around his head as he peeked over his shoulder, nodding towards my pants.

The silence was thickening and my fingers gripped the top of my pants, slowly pulling them down my legs; the new visions of bruises and scars clouding Soldat’s vision. The only thing keeping me from bearing it all to him was a thin piece of fabric. Soldat turned on his knees, face inches from my core, and goosebumps rose to my skin as I felt his finger slide my underwear down over my knees and I stepped out of them. He tossed them to the side while keeping his eyes trained hard on me as he looked up into my own.

“Get in.” Soldat’s flesh fingers tapped the back of my thigh, his warm breath brushing against my heated core.

The water immediately eased the sore muscles and wounds as I submerged myself, pulling my knees to my chest. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Soldat stripping himself of his own clothes before I felt the water slosh behind me. Metal fingers wrapped around my middle pulling me into a hard chest. We sat in silence as he first cleaned me then him.

“I should have been here,” his words mumbled against the skin of my shoulder as he pressed a soft kiss there.

“You needed to go on your mission.” I reminded him.

“I will kill him.” He vowed.

I hushed him with a soft squeeze of his thigh, fingers resting easily over the mass of them. “I’ll be alright.”

“You’re coming with me on the next mission.”

I smiled at the softness in his voice.

“I don’t think Berge will like that.” I admitted.

Soldat took a damp cloth to my legs and stomach, cleaning the wounds with soft touches.

“They can kill me to try and stop me.” Soldat deadpanned.

I opened my mouth to protest but he silenced me with a kiss to my forehead, whispering promises of him saving me, protecting me, no matter what the cost will be.

“I missed you, dorogaya.”Soldat breathed, his cock hardening against the small of my back.

“I missed you too,” I moaned.

His fingers grazed over my core underneath the water, rubbing circles over my clit. His lips attached to my neck, leaving his mark for all to see.

“I need you.”

The water splashed out of the tub as Soldat lifted me out and carried me bridal style into his bedroom. I fell to the bed with a soft sigh and my eyes took in the God-like form of Soldat, his dick twitching with anticipation. I took in every groove and line of his muscles, the way they tensed under the light as he stood in front of me.

“Soldat,” I begged, “I can’t wait anymore.”

“Say your mine.” He commanded.

“I’m yours.”

“Good girl,” Soldat praised while his metal fingers stroked his already hard cock.

He slowly climbed up the bed, laying soft kisses over the skin of my legs and thighs on his way up. My body shook with the want of his body on mine, skin on skin underneath the moonlight from outside.

That night, our bodies linked together in pure bliss and adoration for one another. Our moans that bounced off the walls were a proclamation of our growing love for each other.

That night was the first and last time Soldat and I made love.

Day 132-The last day.

Eyes slowly blinked open as I patted the spot next to me, finding it empty and cold. My brows pulled together in confusion as I looked around the room trying to figure out where Soldat had gone. I groaned at the soreness between my legs as I sat up in bed, clutching the sheet tighter to my chest. The memories of last night clouded my vision and my cheeks reddened remembering all the ways Soldat’s fingers and mouth had pleasured me.

The door had burst open causing me to jump at the sight of the man that had entered.

“Where did you–?”

“You have to go; leave.” Soldat rushed while handing me my clothes.

“What?” Tears started to well up in my eyes.

“You need to leave, now. It’s not safe for you anymore.” Soldat demanded.

Rising from the bed, I let the sheet fall to the floor before quickly dressing.

“What are you talking about?”

Soldat ran a hand over his tired face before a loud sigh left his lips. “Berge has plans for you that I will not let happen. You need to leave here.”

“Plans?” I croaked. “What plans?”

“There’s a door on the other end of the compound that I always leave through to go on my missions. I left it unlocked last night. Once you’re outside, run west for 5 miles. There will be a gas station where you can call for a ride.”

Soldat ignored my questioning pleads as he handed me a pair of his boots and a jacket to keep me warm once I was outside.

“No, Soldat. I’m not leaving you.”

“It’s not up for discussion. You’re leaving.” He demanded.

“I won’t leave you. I love-.”

My confession was short lived as we heard voices yelling from down the hallway. Soldat cursed before pulling me into his chest. His plump lips brushed against my forehead while his hands wrapped around my back, giving a hard squeeze. My fingers gripped tight his vest, the fear of leaving him weighing heavy on my chest.

“I can’t leave you, Soldat.” I confessed.

“Wait ten minutes then take a left at the end of the hallway, the door to your escape will be the last one on the left.”

Soldat pulled away from me, strong eyes staring into my sad ones. His pink lips stood out from underneath the stubble that had grown since the last time I had seen him. I unknowingly reached out for him as he took a step away from me.

“Soldat,” I sobbed. “Please don’t make me leave.”

“Stay safe, Dorogaya.”

We shared one last loving glance before I watched him turn his back on me, walk down the hall and out of my life.

Those ten minutes had passed by antagonizing slowly and now matter how much I wanted to stay here with Soldat, I knew that he was looking out for my safety. We both knew the kind of man Berge was and if whatever he had planned for me scared even Soldat, I knew I had to trust him.

Regretfully, my feet took me down the way that Soldat had instructed me. They froze, however, when I noticed commotion coming from the room to my left; the one I had to pass in order for me to reach my freedom.

“Get him in the chair!”

“Sir, it’s been months since we’ve wiped him. We don’t know the risks!”

“I don’t care about the risks! He needs to forget her!”

Slowly peeking from around the corner, I watched in fear as four men struggled to get Soldat in a chair that sat in the middle of the room. No matter how much he had fought the men, Soldat gave up in the end, falling into the chair with a groan.

When his broken eyes landed on me, his chest rose in fear and he motioned to the door, begging me to leave.

“I’m sorry,” I mouthed.

Not wanting to stick around and see what they were about to do to him, no matter how much I loved him, I ran down the hallway and out of the prison I had called home for the last 132 days. And away from the one and only man that would haunt my dreams every single night for the next three years.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes and reader #the winter soldier #marvel #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier smut #bucky barnes x agent!reader #james barnes smut #james barnes imagine #james bucky barnes #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #soldat bucky barnes

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aftxnrxbxtics · 4 months ago

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follow me

William Afton x f! reader

Summary: somehow you got a job at fredbear’s, but what you thought was a dream come true, suddenly becomes a nightmare.

Warnings: non-con, blood, fingering, age-gap, groping, power imbalance, virgin reader, mentions of murder.

A/N: this is a request! hope you like it anon, i really enjoyed writing this! <3

It’s been a few weeks since fazbear entertainment hired you to be a part-time apprentice mechanic at fredbear’s family diner. The pay is good, you get free pizza, and you can work with the animatronics that you’ve loved since you were a teen. So it really is the perfect place for your first job.

Usually you repair and give maintenance to fredbear and security puppet, with Henry by your side most of the time to guide you. But you have a natural talent to it, so he’s never had to worry about you doing something wrong.

However, you have strictly prohibited to touch springbonnie, not unless William tells you to. And today is one of those days.

When you walked in, ready to start your shift, William told you to follow him to the parts & services room, only to find springbonnie on the ground, not in good conditions. You’re not sure what happened to him, but his right ear flopped to the front, his bow fell, and his jaw got stuck.

Also some weird stains appeared on his yellow fur, but William just brushed it off, the suit was used at a party and the kids were a little rough with him, that’s all, nothing too serious.

You didn’t question his words, you’ve seen with your own eyes how careless and rude the kids are nowadays, so you immediately got to work, determined to get springbonnie back to normal.

Without realizing it, you spent hours on it, more than your shift is supposed to be. You fixed the screws, got some loose springlocks back to their place, and even cleaned the stains with peroxide because nothing else seemed to work. Those dark brown handprints definitely weren’t chocolate cake.

But you don’t mind at all, you’re just happy to do your job and get springbonnie to look much better. Once you finish, you set the animatronic mode and get him to stand up, but he can’t go outside just yet, his fur needs to dry, so you turn off the sound sensors and performance mode until tomorrow.

Now you need to go home, your parents must be wondering why you aren’t home for dinner, you’re never late. But first, you go to the employee’s bathroom to wash your hands. Whatever those stains were had a strong smell that’s been making you feel nauseous.

And as if that wasn’t enough, you have a gut feeling that something is not right. It’s like if your instinct told you that you shouldn’t have cleaned that.

“You did a pretty good job” William’s voice echoes in the empty hallway when you open the door and step out of the bathroom. “The suit looks fantastic, almost new”.

“Thank you” you answer with a smile, pleased to hear that he liked the way you worked with his beloved animatronic.

“Did you know that you’re my favorite employee?” he asks, out of the blue, but this time there’s something in his voice that you had never heard before.

“I didn’t knew that, but i appreciate it, sir” you say, more shy than ever, nervously playing with you hands.

Most of your coworkers complain about Mr. Afton being a complete asshole, but you don’t thinks so, he’s been really kind to you since your first day, so you don’t think much of it when you see him there, under the dim light of the hallway, smiling at you.

“Well, you see, i’m thinking about giving you a raise and a full time shift” he says, taking a few steps closer to you until his imposing tall figure is all you can see. “I can even name you employee of the month… but first i need to know what you’re willing to do for me.”

Those last words don’t sit right to you. You know perfectly that he’s not talking about your job anymore, his sexual intentions are more than evident. And you don’t know how to act, or what to say, you can just feel your heart pounding faster inside your chest.

“What do you mean?” you play innocent, praying for it to just be a misunderstanding.

“You know exactly what i mean” William tilts his head to the side and uses the tip of his finger to put a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You can get on your knees and suck my cock, or you can just spread those pretty legs and let me fuck you. The choice is yours.”

A shiver runs down your spine. You never thought he would be so direct, and so damn perverted, his facade of successful businessman worked so well that you never expected those words to come out of his mouth. And the man that you once admired, now makes you feel disgusted.

“N-No, sorry, i-i don’t want to do that and i don’t need the raise” you stumble over your own words, taking a few steps back until your back touches the wall.

That’s it, that little touch reminds you that you’re trapped. It’s a dead end hallway, the only two doors there lead to the bathroom and parts & services, you can’t escape from any of those, but you can still try to make a run past him.

Anything is better than to stay there, with an old man whose intentions are purely repulsive. So before anything else happens, you sprint, trying to run as fast as you can.

But it doesn’t last long, soon you can only feel how he tugs your jacket and your back slams against the purple wall again, but this time with enough force to make you yelp, almost taking all the air out of your lungs.

“A feisty little girl, aren’t you?” William chuckles, using his forearm to keep you in place, pressing it to your neck. “I asked nicely, but if you want to fight then we’re gonna fight, i don’t have a problem with using force, darling.”

“Let me go please” you plead, teary eyed, digging your nails onto his clothed arm.

You’re way too scared to try and scape again, you know there’s no chance of you winning against a man who is taller and a lot more stronger than you. He can easily do anything he wants to you, and you can’t stop him.

“Shhh, don’t cause a scene” he clamps a hand over your mouth, muffling all of your desperate sounds. “I’ll make you feel real good, i promise”.

You don’t want him to touch you, you don’t like him in the slightest, you just want to yell and run away, but now he has you trapped between the wall and his strong body. There’s nothing left for you to do, so you just close your eyes and accept your fatidic fate.

One of his large hands travels down your shirt, groping your tits, and then makes its way down to the waistband of your pants, quickly working on the button and zipper to pull them down your legs.

“You a little old to be wearing cotton panties with a little pink bow, don’t you think?” He mocks you, tugging them to the side, finally exposing your untouched pussy.

It feels so humiliating, and you try your best to squeeze your thighs together, but he still manages to get his hand between your legs, exploring your wet folds with the tip of his fingers.

He’s way too experienced, you can tell just by his precise movements and how quickly he finds your clit, starting to rub circles on it at a slow pace.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” William whispers to your ear, so close that his beard tickles your skin. “Just look at how your little body reacts to me, i know it’s the first time someone touches you like this”.

You hate it, you hate him, and you hate the way your natural instincts take over your whole being, causing you to open your legs just a little bit for him to have a better access and create more pleasurable friction.

Suddenly, he pushes two fingers inside, and your muffled whimpers get louder. It stings, the stretch is unfamiliar, and tears spill out of your eyes. You want nothing more than to push him away, but you can’t, you stay there against your will as he steals your innocence.

“You’re so tight and warm, i’d love to fuck you right now” he grunts, pressing his hard bulge against your hip, just for you to feel it. “But i think i’ll save that for another occasion”.

His movements get faster, abusing your little hole with his thick digits, soon finding a sweet spot that has you squirming and whining, and it feels as if you are about to pee all over his hand.

You’re close to an orgasm, really close, and William knows it, so he curls his fingers and pushes them deeper as his palm rubs your clit in a delicious way.

It’s overwhelming, you can’t take it anymore, so you let yourself get lost on the sudden waves of pleasure that invade every part of your body, almost going limp, so you cling to his arms as your shaky legs threaten to give up your own weight.

“If you say a single word about this, i’ll slit your throat like i did to those little bastards” he says, slowing down his movements inside your spasming pussy while you ride out the last bits of pleasure. “You understand?”

Your mind, fogged by lust, fear and guilt, makes you unable to fully understand the magnitude of his words, but you nod anyways, praying for him to get his dirty hands away from you and leave you alone.

“That’s it, good girl” you don’t see him, your eyes are still shut, but you can definitely picture the devilish smirk on his face.

What an asshole.

After that, William takes his hand off your mouth and slowly slides his fingers out of your wet hole, admiring how they’re covered in a mixture of your sweet juices and blood. But it’s over now, he’s letting you go, so you finally open your eyes and fix your clothes as fast as you can, just in time before Henry appears in the hallway carrying a box full of paper plates and checkered tablecloths.

If you wanted to, you could easily tell Henry what happened, but you don’t, you keep it all to yourself. It’s all so embarrassing, and you can just manage to clean your tears and force your shaky legs to move, walking past the two of them.

You don’t even grab your stuff in your locker or hear the way Henry calls out your name in a worried manner. You don’t care about anything, you only make your way out of the restaurant, desperate to breathe some fresh air and go home.

“What did you do to her, Will?” Henry asks, concerned about you, but William just shrugs his shoulders.

“Nothing, she’s just a sensitive little girl who couldn’t handle getting scolded”.

#william afton smut #william afton x reader #fnaf smut #fnaf fanfic #william afton fanfic

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randomthefox · 3 months ago

Note

Netflix DMC expects us to treat demons as an ethnic minority, but the sympathetic refugee demons look almost completely human (save for a few horns) while the more bloodthirsty demons like echidna are far more monstrous looking.

So basically the sympathetic refugee demons are the DMC equivalent of being extremely lightskinned, while the malevolent demons are dark skinned by the same standard.

Uh-oh. Colorism a-go-go

It's so fucking stupid and annoying because "good" demons ALREADY WERE A THING IN THE VIDEO GAME CONTINUITY. Sparda was a demon and he woke up to justice. Trish was a demon and she turned away from Mundus and joined up with Dante. Lucia was an artificial demon created by a human who has given up his humanity, and she was willing to let Dante kill her just because she was worried she MIGHT become a threat to the people she cared about due to being a demon.

The DMC Animated series, which is in continuity with the video games Patty and Morrison even appear in DMC5, also has demons they encounter who are explicitly depicted as being decent people who Dante has no quarrel with. Bradley is a demon who is framed for murders, but he's innocent and in love with a human woman and Dante encourages him to live as a human in peace.

Modeus and Baul are former apprentices of Sparda and are good decent guys, Baul is an honorable warrior and Modeus is even a pacifist.

People arguing that the show is stupid because "demons are evil, why is the show trying to portray them sympathetically?" are so fucking annoying because they're poisoning the well. The DMC series has ALWAYS had demons who aren't bad people. THE OPENING FUCKING LINE OF THE FIRST FUCKING GAME IS ABOUT SPARDA WAKING UP TO JUSTICE AND FIGHTING HIS OWN KIND AGAINST HUMANITY. And no, this was not special because "he was fighting against his own nature as a demon." ANY DEMON would be capable of doing the same thing. And the series since the second game has had humans who are the villains and do bad things.

But humanity/demonity as a biological attribute, and Being Human and Being A Devil as a metaphysical concept, have also always been shown to be two completely different things. Humans can become demons. Demons can find humanity. It is the ability to love and self sacrifice in the name of love that makes the difference. If you have loved ones and would cry if you lost those loved ones, then you are human. Regardless of if you come from the Underworld and have lava for blood or whatever. If you are willing to sacrifice anybody even those who love you in the name of power for yourself, then you are a demon regardless of the fact that you were born of a human womb and bleed red.

This isn't fucking rocket science. What's in your heart and what's flowing through your veins are two different things.

The Netflix shows insinuation that there are "innocent demons" who have children and just want to be left in peace is fucking stupid because BY DEFINITION they would NOT be demons.

If this show was functioning under the rules of the video games, these people are Humans. Their love makes them humans. The horns are irrelevant to that fact.

The Netflix show is STUPIDER AND MORE SIMPLISTIC with its "not all demons are bad" message. The video games are SMARTER AND MORE NUANCED by presenting Humanity as an ephemeral trait that ANY BEING is capable of having.

Fucking piece of shit fucking TV show.

Also yeah in terms of problematic "light skin = good" messaging let's not forget what they did to Lucia.

Jesus h christ

#devil may cry #dmc #devil may cry netflix

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swtechspecs · 6 months ago

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Ithorian Herdship "Tafanda Bay"

Source: The Essential Guide to Vehicles and Vessels (Del Rey, 1996)

#star wars #herdships #ithor #ithorian #ithorians #momaw nadon #tafanda bay #cities #repulsorlift #galactic civil war #new republic era #ithorian ground fleet #new jedi order era #first appearance dark apprentice #essential guide to vehicles and vessels #essential guides #star wars novels

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kenzdawinz · 9 months ago

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Visions of You: A Lilia Calderu x femaledivination!reader

Heyyyy this is my return to fanfic, but it's been a while so I'm a bit rusty. Constructive criticism not insults please! If you don't like it.. don't read it, it's that's simple.

This will be the first part of a new series I'm working on called Visions of You. Reader is a female divinations witch, around the same age as Lilia, but physical appearance is up to you. More will be revealed later, but a happy ending is in store!

If you'd like to be added to the tag list, or taken off, let me know!

Warnings: cussing

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KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

I roll over and peep open my eyes to look at my alarm clock. 12:42. What the hell is someone banging on my door this time of day for?

I push myself up out of bed, and wrap my robe around myself as I make my way to the door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

“I’m coming, i’m coming!” I shouted. Could they bang any harder on my door?!?

I quickly grab the front door and thrust it open, blinking quickly at the sunlight.

“Yes? What do you need so urgently you almost banged my door down?” I grumpily ask the two strangers standing at my door as I attempt to wipe away some of the groggy sleep from my eyes.

“Oh!” A shrill voice pipes up. “Sorry about that, we’re just in a bit of a rush. Didn’t mean to give you such a harsh wake-up. Although it is past noon on a weekday…” The voice trails off and I snap my head up.

I had to pick up an extra shift last night at the club because one of the other bottle girls had gotten sick. That meant working on my feet for longer than usual, and I was definitely tired from the extra hours.

“Listen kiddo, i work the night shift down at the club and i’ve only been asleep for a couple hours, so excuse me if i’m a little grumpy at the fact some kid was banging on my door while i'm trying to rest” i huff out with impatience. “Now will you kindly get off my doorstep? I don’t want your cookies, or t-shirts or whatever the hell it is you’re selling”.

I turned to close the door when the woman I hadn't noticed standing next to the teenager spoke.

“Seriously, Y/N? Working at the local club? I didn’t think you had the guts for stripping” she says while snickering.

I bristle at the insult. “Now just wait a minute here. I’m not a stripper, I'm a bottle girl! And who are you to throw around judgment, showing up on my front door when I don't even know…” I trail off as i get a good look at her face and recognize just who’s come to bother me. No way…

“Well holy shit!” I exclaim, throwing my hands up in the air. I lean against the door frame and look her up and down slowly. “Now that’s a face I haven't seen in a few centuries. Agatha fucking Harkness! Can’t say I've missed your presence. What brings you to my doorstep?”

“I’ve got a proposition for you. Mind if we come in?” she questions as she gestures inside.

I throw my head back in laughter before turning around to go inside, leaving the door ajar.

“Sure!” I yell over my shoulder. “Come on in. I’m gonna make some tea.”

Both Agatha and the boy trail after me into the kitchen. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the boy following my movements as he takes in my kitchen. It’s full of dried herbs and flowers hanging from faded yellow walls. I fling open my aged brown cabinets and rifle around for a mason jar of tea leaves.

As I prepare my water to boil and place the tea leaves in a sachet I ask “So, what brings you by Agatha? Looking for me to join you on one of your latest murder sprees in the search for some powerful totem?”

I turn from the counter to face them, seeing that Agatha has already made herself comfortable at my small dining table. The boy was standing awkwardly behind her.

I look the boy up and down and raise my eyebrows at Agatha. “What’s with the boy?” i question, “Finally taken on an apprentice to teach your dark and evil ways to? He seems quite young to be following in your trail of corrupted darkness.”

The boy goes to respond, but Agatha cuts him off. “No, no, no, this is Teen and he’s…” She trails off a bit and I go to finish pouring my tea. Teen? That’s a strange name. Whatever. He got himself involved with Harkness, not my problem to deal with.

“ A pet. Yes!” she exclaims, clapping her hands. “He’s my pet. Now listen Y/N i have a proposition for you.”

I roll my eyes at her. “Agatha, I really don’t know what’s got you at my house stirring shit up, but I can assure you I'm not interested. If your undoubtedly dangerous proposal was all you came for, you best be going now.”

I move to usher her out the door before ‘Teen’ shouts out. “We’re going on the Witches Road and we want you to join us!”

He looks down a bit sheepishly as I give a bug eyed stare.

“Please?” he hesitantly asks. “We need a divination witch and the road will give you what you want most if you join us.” He’s gotta be kidding. The Road is a death wish.

I swiftly turn to Agatha, who shakes her head in exasperation at Teen.

“Really, Agatha?!” I exclaim, throwing my hand up in the air and moving wildly around the room. “The Road is a death wish. No one makes it through. What have you deluded this poor boy into thinking?”

“She hasn’t deluded me!”, Teen replies. “It was my idea actually.”

I bury my head in my hands. No way am I joining Agatha Harknesse’s coven to journey down the Witches Road. I am not that crazy, despite what some may think and say.

“Oh hell no. Thank you but no thank you for the offer. I plan on staying alive for the foreseeable future. Harkness, take the boy and leave,” I whip around to face her, “ and please don’t come back. I don’t need whatever's got you spooked enough to go on the witches road coming after me”.

“Oh come on!” she exasperatedly yells. “We both know you’ve been searching for something you’re never gonna find Y/N.” How the hell does she know about that? I’ve never told her of my visions of her. But then again, I asked around for decades. Maybe she caught wind of it through the grapevine of the witch community.

“Travel the Witches Road with me” she offers. “The Road will give you what you want most when we reach the end”.

“If we reach the end” I interject. “If.”

She’s right though. If i join them, and can successfully make it to the end of the road it will tell me how to find her. All those visions of her for all those years… Her beautiful brown eyes, her soft curly hair. What I wouldn't give to see her smile for real, and not just in a vision.

I sigh heavily as I bring my eyes to Agatha’s. I’m seriously considering it, and for a moment I almost say yes… but I know Agatha’s reputation. Even though at one point I would have liked us to be friends, I know I can't trust her. Going on the Road with her would be certain death, and then i’d never find her.

“Agatha…” I start. “I can’t. I just can’t. Now if that's all, get out of my house. I’m tired.”

“Ok, ok” she says, lifting her hands in mock surrender as she turns to leave.

Unexpectedly, Teen makes his way towards me. “Here” he says as he places a card in my hand. “This is Agatha’s address. Be here tonight at 6:30 if you change your mind, and I hope you will” he says as smiles.

“Teen!” Agatha barks from the doorway. “Come on! We don’t have all day”

Teen runs after her, and as suddenly as they had woken me, they left, and I was there to sit with my own thoughts.

At least my tea has cooled off enough to drink.

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@end0r4

#agatha all along #lilia calderu #agatha harkness #lilia calderu x reader

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saturnville · 3 months ago

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Patron de la Scène | The Aftermath

Pairing: Joseph de la Scène (Kelvin Harrison Jr.) x Black Fem Oc (Adama Ndiyae) Warnings: Mentions of slavery/enslavement, sexual situations, angst (I will add more if they come up). Reference: Chevalier (2023) Summary: The aftermath of a heartache. WC: 3821 Remember: Likes are nice, but reblogs, comments, and asks are highly encouraged! Support your writers!

She hated him.

He needed no words to know the care she felt for him morphed into disdain. Her actions spoke loud enough for him to hear, ringing in his ears like a piercing frequency that made him feel numb and out of his body.

The memories that he held dear to him felt like ghosts. Nightmare-inducing triggers that developed from his dancing with the devil. What was, was foreign to his sight and his touch. The lingering glances over dinner were non-existent. They ate in a stiff silence, her eyes on her plate the entire meal. No more early morning knocks on his bedroom door to keep him on schedule for the day. He was forced to forgo his pleasures to stay on schedule. The hair braiding duty had been re-assigned to his mother. While he appreciated her care, he missed resting between the warmth of Adama's thighs, and she whispered sentiments of his beauty that she thought he couldn't hear. It was over and done.

Suddenly, library visits were purposeless, and late-night baths were dull. The basin seemed more minor, and the water grew colder. The candles were not bright but had small flames that struggled to stay alight in the darkness. His study felt empty. It was too organized without her small hands plucking books off the shelf and putting them in the wrong place. The Fontaine Estate felt lifeless.

Joseph Fontaine was not the type to be grieved by the lack of presence of a girl. When one was unavailable, the next was at his disposal. Adama, however, wasn’t any girl. She was a woman. A goddess in human form. One who demanded sacrifice worthy of her presence and continued blessing—he’d given her his scraps rather than the firsts of his harvest, and he reaped what he sowed by being expelled from her presence.

Depressed, his comrade Antony would describe him. Depressed and wallowing in misery like a pig in mud. Suddenly, the plays were filled with heartache and woeful emotions that drew crowds to tears. Almost Shakespearen the way he denoted heartbreak though both Antony and Joseph were unsure if he truly knew what that was like. To have poured one’s heart into the glass of someone else’s being just for it to be dropped carelessly, leaving the lover to leak without containment.

Joseph wanted to prove his mother wrong. To prove Adama wrong. To decree and declare with boldness that he was unlike his father. Yet, with his third glass of wine and pen in hand, jotting incomprehensible sentences, he knew deep down they were more alike than he would have hoped.

To be an excellent man, a renown Frenchman, there was an identity he had to erase and another he had to paint on. What his father did not understand, though, was that the Blackness of his skin and the African blood coursing through his veins would never be erased, no matter how much they both tried. No matter the accolades, the sold-out plays, and university students begging to become his apprentice—the appearances of the Queen, the title of Patron de la Scene—nothing would erase his identity as Joseph Fontaine, son of Fatou of Senegal. Enslaved no longer, but not ignorant to the pain of being taken from his mother, the agony of working in the blistering sun, and the shame of not being good enough.

Yet still, there was a part he tried to play: the excellent man, a renown Frenchman, the Patron de la Scene. For some time, he did well. Parties with expensive champagne numbed his mind so that he couldn’t retort to the microaggressions and blatant racism. Lack of control of his urges gave him a name as a superb lover amongst women who could have him killed with one wolf-like cry—but anything to be the most desirable, right? The erasure of who he was with the covering of thick coils with powered tendrils—anything to erase Josesph, son of Fatou of Senegal, to create Joseph Fontaine, the Patron de la Scene.

Disgusting factors contributed to the morally gray compass he used to navigate the unexpected return of Adama Ndiyae. She represented the past—the one he tried to run from. Unlike himself, Adama was unafraid and unashamed of who she was—never calling herself a slave, for what man had the authority to bind her mind, spirit, and soul? Physically, she was chained, but above all else, she was free.

No desire to cover her shoes that had scuffs and scrapes. Comfort is found in the skirts and dresses made by Fatou by hand. Pride in each kink and coil that once hid rice beneath every twist and braid. Adama was the personification of what he struggled to come to terms with on his own—truth. And now, with her unreachable and reclusive, it seemed even more challenging to obtain.

He should’ve told her how he yearned for her, how he’d utter her name in his slip like a whispered prayer. She was in his dreams. He dreamt of their childhood, how they shared something beautiful even in the darkest moments—friendship. Friendship that blossomed into something intimate and more charged upon her arrival to France. Something he grew to adore. And still, he didn’t cherish it. He couldn’t bring himself to show her the truth or find the courage to tear down the walls he had built around his soul.

How could he return to her, to himself, when he was so unsure of who he was? How could he face the woman who embodied everything he feared but longed for in the same breath?

Adama wasn’t just the woman who loved him once. She was the embodiment of everything he had denied himself—the parts he thought he could bury. And now, she was the key to unlocking chains that held him captive behind the bars of misery for years.

It had become rare for Joseph to see Adama, and it was rare for her to see him. She played the role of a recluse well—blending in with the sway of decorative curtains and the bustle of maidens and servants.

His study was no longer her place of comfort. She found a local library where she’d find books to fill her basket and then retreat to an unoccupied room on the far side of the Fontaine Estate to escape reality by riding on the tides dominated by captains of words and phrases.

She had nowhere else to go. She had pride, but she’d be foolish to ever return to the same land that stripped her of her dignity, which left her in an environment where she questioned the very thing she lost.

It was difficult at first—keeping her distance from Joseph. He’d become a part of her daily routine. By the time the sun glistened against the nine o’clock shadow of his violin, she was shooing him toward the kitchen for breakfast, which was more amusing than the God-awful performances Joseph dragged her to during the evenings. Filled with gentle laughter and stolen glances. She’d hear the pitter-patter of the horses’ hooves say: “Hurry up before you’re late!” He’d reply with a playfully snarky remark, insisting that he paid the carriage drivers to adhere to his schedule, not the other way around. Adama would roll her eyes, lose the battle of trying to keep a smile off her lips, and cuff the ends of his sleeves before waving him out the door.

The evenings were just as eventful. Intellectual conversation about books and theatre over a shared glass of wine turned into intimate moments in the bathing quarters where she’d catch him sneaking glances over the edge of his paper as he watched her soak sore limbs in steaming water. They ended with soft lips brushing against warm cheeks before bidding farewell for the evening.

She bid herself a good evening, now.

A good book and a piping hot cup of tea with sugar cubes lulled her to sleep. But the twisting of her heart woke her up in the midnight hour. Suddenly, the room was too far, the bed was too large, and the atmosphere was chilling. Her hand shifted behind her back, petting the spot that had been unoccupied for weeks. It wasn’t every day that she shared her intimate quarters with him, but for four days, he couldn’t bear to be away from her, so she let him stay.

“You have that large bed to yourself. Why do you want to be in here?” She shuffled around her room, twirling around herself as she tried to decide which dress to wear for her day out with Fatou. “Aren’t your sheets from Egypt? Very soft, as people say.”

Joseph shrugged a shoulder and turned his head to follow her graceful movements across the room. “They are. But you’re not in them. Just want to be close to you.”

She should’ve said no. But they’d crossed a few boundaries and blurred more lines than she could count. So when he asked to stay, ensuring no other nefarious intention, she agreed. It was a new feeling, she noted. Having his bare chest pressed against her back that was covered by a satin nightgown, he commissioned a French seamstress to make for her. His arm tossed around her waist—it seemed possessive. It was new, but she welcomed it. Her stomach clenched as the ghost of his embrace traced her abdomen. She might have let him stay longer—might have let him stay forever—if only he hadn’t found someone else to warm his Egyptian cotton sheets.

She was unaware of whatever force compelled her to obey instructions and show up. It was a grand evening for him, but it meant nothing for her- his play's opening day. It was a quick work; she heard from a conversation in the village, and Antony's boisterous voice echoed against the walls of the corridors. He commissioned a dear friend to assist with the production, and in under a month, a two-hour play was created by the mastermind himself, Joseph Fontaine.

She congratulated him once, offering a nod and a tight-lipped smile that didn't meet her eyes. It was a quiet comment. Hardly reaching his ears, but it was the loudest she'd been in a long while. If only she knew how he internally jumped for joy when her eyes, though neutral with minimal emotion behind them, locked with his. For just a moment, it was enough. A reminder that God was still working on his behalf. Yet, just as rushed as her congratulations were her departure from the room, he was left alone, hands clenched by his side as he fought to keep his feet still, to hold onto the memory of what it was like being in her presence once more.

She didn't expect to see him, at least not for an extended period, until Fatou demanded she join her for the opening night of Joseph's play. Adama listed off every good reason why she didn't want to go, why her presence wasn't needed. Fatou's stern look--raised eyebrow and pointed glare--halted any additional words from coming out her mouth. "I may not support all his decisions, but he is my son, and this is a big night for him. Plus, have you ever seen the theatre?"

Seen the theatre, she had not.

So, Fatou instructed her to get dressed. To put on the finest gown she owned. It should have excited her and dressed to the nines in the finest Asian silks, Egyptian cotton, and Arabian jewels. Her hair had been washed and retwisted in a way she had never seen before. She looked different. She felt different. A twinge of confidence hidden beneath rubble seemed to break through as she turned side to side in the mirror. Was it a big difference? That she was unsure of, but she didn't mind the change.

The ride to the theatre went faster than the hands of time. If she had it her way, they would've trekked slower than molasses to give herself time to mentally prepare for what was ahead. Hearing the clamoring of the people outside the theatre, some singing praises for the Patron de la Scene, others s demanding freedom from watered-down torment and suffering, being guarded as she was escorted into the theatre, was all too unfamiliar. It's all too overwhelming. How could he live like this?

Fatou and Adama sat in the third row from the front. The theatre was packed. It was filled with bodies whispering and gushing over the highly-anticipated new work from Joseph Fontaine. On the plantation, his name was hardly spoken. Discussions of high-ranking members of society were few and far between. Gossip and the inside scoop on the outside world were not a luxury they were given. It was not until her arrival at the Fontaine Estate that she truly understood how the people adored him. A maestro with a quill, they called him. Never to be mocked, mimicked, or replaced. They worshipped him—their little circus monkey.

"How are you doing?" Fatou asked over the boisterous voices, though her eyes were still ahead. Adama's eyes cut around the room quickly before returning to the center. She nodded once, "Fine." Short, curt, and to the point. All while being unbelievable. Fatou did not push but instead patted the young woman's knee and crossed a leg over the other.

The lights dimmed. The voices simmered. Footsteps approached. And the crowd went wild. Adama lifted her eyes. Before her stood a man she had yet to meet. The Patron de la Scene. He looked like Joseph, with the same rich complexion and dimpled smile. Yet, she expected more. She expected the man she'd seen on flyers around the city with a God-awful powdered wig, pants too tight for his body, and a stoic expression that spoke, "I am too good for you," without his lips parting. But, she saw Joseph. With neatly braided hair that roused gasps and whispers. Lax clothing. A book and quill at his side. Two men in a shared body, but she only saw one.

She saw his eyes twinkle beneath the lights. This was his element. The stage was his home. "Thank you for joining me tonight," he said once the voices silenced. "The quickest turnaround for a script, I must say, so excuse any error. But..." he paused. He paused, and his eyes scanned the crowd. So many faces. So many faces that weren’t—hers.

Those beautiful brown eyes stared at him. Her chin tucked against her chest, lips parted as quiet breaths came from them. Finer than the most expensive luxuries he'd owned. Adama Ndiaye. The world's treasure sat three rows from the front, dressed in emerald beside his mother. How could he ever doubt the existence of God now?

Joseph cleared his throat. "But, this play represents a part of me that I have always struggled to share. The part of me you all do not see or choose to ignore. I may be a playwright, a man of the quill, but I will always be the child of a resilient woman who defeated enslavement and whose sacrifices are why I am here."

He paused, looking out into the crowd, his gaze lingering on her. "Not proud of all that I've done, all that I've said, all that I haven't done, but life is about experiences and how you learn from them. Les Cendres de l'Honour shows the recent experiences of a young man whose life has been turned upside down. Shows how he deals with conflict and all life's unexpected twists and turns. In some battles, he wins, and in others, he loses. How does it all end? We'll see. Enjoy the show, ladies and gentlemen."

With one last glance, Joseph nodded once, then exited the stage, the roaring applause escorting him as the actors took their places.

Adama did not know what to expect when she entered the theatre. She'd never been to a play. The closest she had been was making up stories in the fields with her brothers and sisters, acting like the brooms were instruments and they were on the world's most significant stage. This, however, was different. Every character embodied who they portrayed. The makeup, the clothes, the language—each element represented Joseph’s vision, which felt all too familiar to her.

A woman paraded the stage looking like Fatou, a slender finger pointed at a Joseph look-a-like, who stormed away before running into another woman. Rich in complexion and stoic in expression. She was an old friend from some time ago. An old friend who had transitioned into what others may call a lover. This man and this young woman spent time bonding over the arts, sneaking glances at dinner and baring their souls beneath loosely tossed sheets. Until another entered the picture. A siren to deter the captain off course.

Shipwreck.

Suddenly, a weight fell on her. Her chest grew tight, her eyes welled with tears, and her head spun like a wheel that fell off its axis. She could barely breathe as the scene shifted. The character, who seemed to represent her, was an outward manifestation of what had occurred behind closed doors. Pain and sorrow latched onto her like a hug from a lover, pulling her into the darkness of her chambers. Part of her wanted to look away. To flee the scene like a criminal. But she couldn't. It was too good, too real.

Joseph had written this, noted every glance, sigh, and external response to internal turmoil, and bore it to the world. His guilt and regret spilled out through every line and every movement. She wasn’t the only one hurting—he was, too. She saw it now.

Fatou noticed Adama's stiffened posture and the faint tremor in her hand as he gripped the edge of the seat. Her stiff gaze softened as if she knew what it was like to be heartbroken by a man she thought would be different. She did. Fatou gave Adama's hand a light touch before returning her eyes to the stage.

Adama's mind was a whirlwind. He wasn't hurting because of me. He hurt me because of what he did to me. His art was his apology, confession, and plea for absolution. A flood of emotions washed over her. How could she even begin to process it?

Fatou noticed Adama’s stiffened posture and the faint tremor in her hand as she gripped the edge of her seat. The older woman’s gaze softened as if she understood her daughter's feelings. She gently touched Adama’s arm, an unspoken comfort.

Adama’s mind swirled. He wasn’t hurting because of me. He was hurting because of what he did to me. His art was his apology, his confession, his plea for absolution. A flood of emotions surged in Adama’s chest. How could she even begin to process this?

Adama’s eyes stayed fixed on the stage, though it felt like the world was pulled from under her feet. Joseph had done this to her. But he had also done it for her. Writing had been the voice he’d given himself when his own was muted. And now, through this play, he told the world how much he regretted hurting her. He showed what she could not see in his silence. He was remorseful. And she felt it all.

She didn't speak much after the play. There were no words in the Wolof, English, or French dictionaries that could encapsulate the thoughts and emotions of her will. Fatou didn't try to pull words from her bosom when the carriage arrived at the residence. She thanked her lucky stars when she knew Joseph would take a separate carriage.

She couldn't even think about processing all she felt in his presence.

When she stepped into the house, she made a bee-line to her quarters, where she stripped out of the corset that sucked the life out of her, flicked off the tight shoes, and plucked the row of jewels off her neck. An exasperated sigh fell from her lips as she threw herself on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

What had her life become? In just a few months, life as she knew it was turned upon its head and slammed down to shatter in pieces like broken pottery. If only she knew how long it'd take to be repaired.

She’d talked herself into a bath and warm clothes, though they did nothing to cleanse and soothe the hurt and confusion that warped her mind completely. She settled into a chair she stole from Joseph’s study, legs tucked under herself, as she opened the recent edition of Julius Caesar, a story of ancient betrayal.

She was fifteen pages deep into the story before being rudely interrupted by a heavy hand tapping against her door. One, two, three knocks. Her eyes cut toward the heavy wood that creaked as it was pushed open. She was equally curious and anxious as she questioned who was behind the door. Fatou would have called her name from the other side of the door; the house staff would have requested Madam Ndiaye to make her presence known. The only person with the audacity to open the door before she provided a response and peaking their head through the door was Joseph.

She saw the top of his head before his body came into view. Carefully stitched braids appeared behind the door. She returned to her book. She had not the energy to engage with him. The evening had sucked her energy through a straw and refused to return it.

Joseph's gaze flickered toward Adama. Her back turned, posture stiff. He was audacious. Another chance to make things right isn't what he deserved. Yet, here was was; driven by something deeper than shame, something purer than desire. With a deep breath, he falls to his knees, a movement slow and deliberate, the weight of it sinking into the room.

Adama didn't turn. Didn't acknowledge him. Not yet. Her lips remain pressed in a line. Her only response was a single tear that hit the back of his hand as he palmed her tense knee.

His mouth opens to say something, but words feel small and inadequate in the face of all he's done. Of the damage he's caused. All seemingly irreversible.

Instead, all that comes out is a soft whisper, a single phrase barely more than a breath: “Forgive me.”

His voice cracked with the rawness of it. The years of silent regret had consumed him whole. He remained there, kneeling, eyes lowered, hands trembling like a pagan before its god, begging for mercy and forgiveness. Could it be so? He didn't know.

No words follow. No promises or explanations. The room is quiet again, save for the soft, steady rhythm of his breath.

Tags: @kirayuki22@greedyjudge2@notapradagurl7@irishmanwhore@honeytoffee@theogbadbitch@jazziejax@kumkaniudaku@becauseimswagman1 @youreadthatright

#saturnville #black!reader #black reader #kelvin harrison jr.#kelvin harrison jr #kelvin harrison jr. x reader #kelvin harrison jr. smut #kelvin harrison jr. fic #kelvin harrison jr. x black oc #aaron pierre #chevalier movie #the chevalier #chevalier 2023

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danihow · 1 year ago

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Love hurts

Han Seojun x producer!Reader True Beauty

Summary: Falling in love with someone who doesn´'t loves you suck, but it sucks more watching them hurt.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: unrequited love, han seojun is in love with jukyung, bad written, not proofread, angst.

A/N: i needed to do this to get this man out of my mind, my god why is he so perfect and so unreal.

You never thought love could hurt, not when it was such a beautiful feeling.

Working as a producer has been your dream all high school, being scouted by a Move Entertainment agent as a freshly graduated person was probably the biggest blessing you've ever received in the last 5 years.

You still remember your first day at the company as an apprentice of the bigger producers, sitting at the back of their studio in the couch and watching them come up with ideas, lead the idols and modifying simple sound onto a whole ass song.

Your heart felt so full of emotions that day you swore you could've cried from happiness even thought you were mistreated by other staff, you remember vividly how your face hurt from smiling on the way home.

Your shoes clacking against the tiled floor echoed through the empty halls of the huge building, it still amuses you to this day the was the floor never seemed to get dirty, always reflecting as if it was a mirror.

However, even if you could spot everything on the floor you still missed the person you were walking into, your head colliding against his tall back, startling out of your mind.

"Yah!" A man's voice flooded your ears before your eyes looked up to who you have crashed into, locking with brown foxlike eyes. "How do you manage to bump into the only other person in the floor?" He says, looking into you intently.

He was the prettiest man you've ever met, and even that was an understatement. The way his eyes complemented the rest of his face, his dark hair in a mullet giving him a mysterious and cool vibe that was just highlighted by his all-black outfit. It was probably the most memorable thing about that day.

"I'm sorry." You mutter, bowing a bit and smiling apologetically.

"It's okay, just look where you're going." He tells you in something between a reprimand and some advice, between polite and cocky. "You're a producer?" He asks, more for him than for you as he spots your producer badge hanging from your neck.

"Oh, yeah, I started today. I'm L/N Y/N." You smile politely at him, who nodded and gave you a weird smile back.

"Nice to meet you L/N Y/N, name's Han Seojun." He said before he continued walking, a small greeting bow before looking away. "Have a good night."

As the weeks rolled by you learnt from your superior that Han Seojun has a new trainee and was already relatively famous as it was too. Your encounter with the boy becoming more and more frequent the more he started practicing and the more you advanced as a producer. The two of you becoming close work friends rather quickly.

As the months turned into years and the level of comfort grew between the two of you the more your feeling for him surpassed the limit of friends, his laugh enticing a newfound warmth in your chest anytime you heard it, his eyes appearing in your daydreaming more and more often. Everything about him changing in your eyes to something else. Nonetheless, as your feeling for him grew with your friendship so did the secrets you knew from each other.

Even though you like him a lot you knew very well how much he liked Lim Jukyung, and you couldn't get mad at it, she has been in his live for far longer than you and is just and angel to be around; if anything you would've fallen in love with her too if you were Seojun.

"Y/Nie, you have done more than enough with those tracks, go home." Your superior mentioned as he walked in the studio, passing you a bottle of water and sitting by your side.

"Something is missing..." you mutter, your back aching from sitting in the same chair for so many consecutive hours, mouse scrolling through the track in the monitor for the nth time in the past half hour.

"You can review it tomorrow, go and rest." He said once again, pulling you away from the computer, your hands stretching as far as they could to keep on working until you were out of reach. His hand grabbing the mouse and saving the track. "Go." His voice was stern but with a hint of fondness, a soft smile on his face as you oblige.

Grabbing you bag and saying your goodbyes you walked out of the studio, opting for using the stairs as your exercise for the day. Eight flight of stairs you were kind of regretting your choice, but you were no quitter, so you kept going. "God my back's killing me." You whisper for yourself as your rub your neck tiredly, putting your coat on until a sound picked up your attention.

Instantly your mind went back to that one-time Jukyung playfully told you she heard from her sister that there was a ghost around the building, seemingly having been haunted herself a few times. "Aigoo..." You mutter, freezing in place as your ears try to pick up the sound again; a few seconds pass and you hear it again, however it seemed to be a sob.

Concerned and a bit less scared you kept on walking down, careful to not disturb whoever it was that cried silently. A few floors down you were met with the figure of a man, sat down in the stairs as his body shook painfully as he cried, his soft sobs flooding your ears and you wished to all the heavens above you were mistaking the silhouette with someone else.

Please, don't be him.

You took a few steps down, the closer you got the clearer he became before your tired eyes. "Seojun?" You asked in a whisper, close enough to crouch down and place your hand on his shoulder.

It shouldn't hurt so much to see the way he flinched at both your voice and your touch, his hand flying to push yours off as his face refused to turn towards you.

With a sigh you sat down beside him, not a word leaving your mouth as you looked ahead of you, giving him the time to do whatever he wanted with his appearance before you looked at him, letting him know you are not forcing anything out of him but instead offering him your company.

A few seconds passed by, maybe a whole minute before he kept on crying, hand trying so hard to muffle his voice as his tears never stopped flowing down his cheeks. Slowly you turned to look at him, taking the time to take in his appearance before sighing again. It hurt a lot to see him so broken.

"It's okay to cry it out, don't silence yourself." You whispered softly, hand slowly reaching for his and taking it off his mouth, a sob immediately following after. "I can leave if you want me to." You said, giving him a few seconds to react, taking his silence and lack of eye contact as a sign and stood up.

"Wait.... don't go," he said in a choked voice, hand flying to grab your wrist, eyes finally looking up at you between his tears. "Please."

"You don't have to ask me twice." You say, a soft and sad smile on your face as your crouched down in front of him between his knees, hands resting now on top of his cheeks and brushing away his tears. "You wanna talk about it or just exist for a while?"

Your tone was so sweet and full of patience he just felt like crying again, sniffing he kept silent, eyes roaming through your face and not once finding your company insincere. "I let her go." He whispers back, his eyes appearing as an open book for you to read, his mouth pouting and his eyes tearing again. "It hurts."

"I know it hurts, and it hurt to love her too, didn't it?" You ask, brushing a few stray hairs off his face and behind his ears, a mannerism you took upon on as his hair grew between haircuts. "I'm so sorry."

"Why does it hurt so much?" He said while desperately looking into your eyes for an explanation, his own hand clutching his chest as if trying to take his heart out. "Why do I had to love her out of everyone?"

He sounded so broken, so exhausted of his feelings it made you teary too, a burning sensation starting at your throat threatening to choke your upcoming words.

"You don't choose who to love, just how she didn't choose not to love you." You mutter, blinking away the stinging in your eyes. "It's part of life as much as it sucks." You whisper, shuffling in your feet that hurt from crouching for so long. "Love hurts, it's dumb how much loving can hurt when it's such a beautiful feeling, huh?" You can't help but chuckle at your own words, how ironic.

"I'm sorry." He mumbles after a while, his hands brushing off the last of his tears as he has now calmed down a lot more, you still crouching in front of him, never once taking your attention away.

"Don't apologize for being human." With a smile your hands sneak up to grab his and stand up, pulling him with you. "Come on, let's go and get some air. away from this creepy stairway." With one of your hands you clean his face of, not wanting anyone to see he was crying as your other hand never loosens around his.

As you walked down the stairs with him trailing behind you Seojun couldn't help but notice how secure your hand held his and how your presence soothes him, a small grateful smile on his face.

"Thank you, Y/N." He mutters as you drag him along, not once yapping or complaining of this ruining his tough image as he would've done every other day.

"That's what friends are for." You smile at him over your shoulder, because even if Han Seojun doesn't love you back, love hurts and it's part of life.

#han seojun #han seojun true beauty #seojun #han seojun x reader #seojun x reader #han seojun fluff #seojun fluff #han seojun fanfic #true beauty #true beauty scenarios

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strawberryjimin13 · 11 months ago

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VEIL OF DECEIT | KTHᝰ.ᐟ

— Synopsis: In the gloomy village of Briarfield, an annual ritual demands the sacrifice of an innocent girl to the devil. When Y/N is chosen as the next offering, she discovers the dark truth behind the tradition—a hoax engineered by the corrupted noblemen.

— Pairing: Merchant!Taehyung x Apprentice Healer!reader

— Genre: Fantasy, one-shot, angst, fluff, eventual smut

— Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), obsessive behaviour (not from tae), attempted sexual assault (not tae! None of the bad warnings are for him tbh), mentions of satanic rituals and sacrificing, stalker behaviour, misogyny, objectification of women, eventual smut, p in v, unprotected sex (this is like magical medieval times lol BUT BE SAFE), praise kink, orgasms (f/m), creampie(?), age gap (reader is 20, Tae is 26), creepy old man behaviour (💀)

— Word Count: 17.9k

— A/N: This is not the most polished work I’m aware. The story contains flaws but I had a dream (plot) and a word document 😭 also this was my first time writing smut, can you tell? Maybe I should have made Tae the evil one 🤔Once again feedback would be appreciated!

— English is not my first language so l apologise in advance for any mistakes or typos!

There once existed the kingdom named Aetherfall, the kingdom of light and splendour. Aetherfall was a kingdom unlike any other, a shining jewel set amidst towering mountains and rolling hills. The city, nestled in the heart of the kingdom, was a sight to behold—an architectural masterpiece where elegance met strength, and ancient magic wove through every stone and street. From afar, Aetherfall appeared like a golden crown atop the earth, its walls gleaming under the light of the sun, and at night, shimmering under the glow of thousands of lanterns.

The heart of the kingdom was its biggest city, Starhill labelled as the city of dreams that every person wanted to visit. Among the large kingdom laid a forgotten place at the outskirts. The village of Briarfield. It hardly harboured a population of a thousand people due to the village’s reputation.

The village of Briarfield was cursed. Or so the stories went, whispered from one frightened villager to the next, as the ever-present fog curled around their feet like ghostly tendrils. It wasn’t just the heavy mist that clung to the cracked, cobblestone streets, or the way the sun seemed to forsake the village, trapped behind thick clouds of grey. No, Briarfield bore the weight of far darker rumours: that its prosperity was built upon the blood of innocent girls, sacrificed each year to appease the devil that lurked beneath its shadowy veneer.

In the dim light of early evening, the village lay sprawled at the foot of the mountains, with its decrepit houses leaning together as if they were all that held each other up. Blackened thatched roofs and crooked chimneys poked into the gloom like skeletal fingers. The streets, winding like a serpent through the maze of wooden huts, were damp from the constant drizzle that hung in the air.

Few travellers came near it, deterred by tales of malevolent spirits and dark rituals. The villagers kept to themselves, huddled in their homes, wary of outsiders and of the secrets that their village held.

And in one of those homes, you dreamed of escape. The cottage was warm but filled with a sombre air. You sat at the table, absently tracing patterns in the worn cloth of the tablecloth. Your mother moved quietly around the kitchen; her movements automatic as she prepared the evening meal.

As the silence grew heavier, you spoke, your voice breaking the quiet. "Mother, why did you and Father never leave the village? I’ve dreamed of leaving for as long as I can remember. Why didn’t you ever want to go?"

Your mother paused, her back turned to you. The silence stretched, and you could almost feel the weight of her thoughts pressing against the walls of the small room. Finally, she turned, her face lined with the hardships of life but softened with a deep, weary kindness.

"We never left because we were bound by our own choices, my dear," she said softly, setting down the wooden spoon she had been stirring the pot with. She walked over and sat across from you, her hands clasped tightly together.

"When your father and I were young, we believed that Briarfield was where we were meant to be. It was our home, our family’s home, and leaving it felt like abandoning a part of ourselves. We thought the village’s darkness was something we could endure, something we could change."

She sighed; her gaze distant. "And in a way, we did change it. Not in grand ways, but in the small, everyday moments. We found happiness in the little things—in our garden, in the quiet of the evening, in the love we had for each other. We made our peace with the shadows because they were all we knew."

Her eyes met yours, filled with a sorrowful understanding. "I know it’s hard for you, wanting something more, wanting to escape.”

Your mother reached out and took your hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "I stayed because I wanted to protect you, to give you a chance to grow up with some semblance of normalcy, even if it was flawed.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you looked at her, seeing the reasoning behind her words. "Thank you, Mother," you said, your voice thick with emotion. "I hope I can make something good come of all this, for both of us."

“I know you will my child. You have always been strong-willed and hence these walls aren’t big enough to keep you in” you smiled at her words and leaned in for a hug. Nothing provided you more comfort than knowing your mother supported your dreams.

The first light of dawn pierced through the thick fog that hung over Briarfield, casting a faint, ghostly glow over the village. The streets were damp from the previous night's drizzle, and the air was crisp, tinged with the scent of wet earth and lingering smoke from the few fireplaces that had been lit.

You pulled on your heavy shawl, its wool rough but warm against the chill, and stepped out into the murky street. The village was just beginning to stir, the early risers emerging from their homes to tend to their chores. The cobblestones beneath your boots were slick, and you navigated them carefully, feeling the weight of the day’s errands pressing on your shoulders.

The first stop was the baker’s stall at the edge of the village square. The baker’s hut was modest but inviting, its windows fogged with the heat from the ovens inside. As you entered, the aroma of fresh bread and pastries enveloped you.

The baker, a burly man with flour-dusted hands and a jovial demeanour, greeted you with a nod. "Morning, lass. What can I get for you today?"

"Good morning," you replied, your voice muffled by the cold. "Just a loaf of bread and some of those cinnamon rolls, please."

The baker nodded and reached for a crusty loaf, its surface crackling with warmth, and a small bag of sweet rolls, their scent filling the air with a comforting sweetness. He handed them over with a smile, and you paid him with the coins you had saved up, tucking the bread into the fabric of your basket.

Next, you made your way to the seamstress’s shop, a quaint little building adorned with colourful patches and ribbons. The seamstress, an elderly woman with sharp eyes and nimble fingers, was busy at her workbench, mending a torn garment. The shop was a haven of vibrant fabrics and threads, a stark contrast to the drabness of the village outside.

You approached her and showed her a small tear in your favourite skirt. "Good morning. I need this repaired, if you could madam."

The seamstress took the skirt with practiced hands, examining the tear with a critical eye. "Of course, dear. I’ll have it done by the end of the day. You’ll need it looking nice for the ceremony."

You nodded, a pang of unease twisting in your stomach at the mention of the ceremony. "Thank you."

With your errands nearly complete, you headed to the village well to fetch water. The well was a central gathering place, surrounded by villagers who would often chat and exchange news as they filled their buckets. Today, however, the well was unusually quiet, the air heavy with the unspoken tension that seemed to follow the village.

As you prepared to lower the bucket into the well, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching. You glanced up and felt a familiar pang of discomfort as you saw Lord Corwin striding towards you. Lord Corwin was a balding, pot-bellied man with sagging jowls and skin that seemed to droop with age, his watery eyes always lingering a moment too long on you. He was balding and an overall unpleasant in terms of looks and personality. His dark, richly embroidered clothing marked him clearly as the village noble.

A sigh escaped your lips as you braced yourself. The last time you had seen Lord Corwin, he had been insisting on a marriage proposal—one that you had firmly declined. He was a man of your father’s age, his advances both unsettling and persistent. Despite your clear rejection, he had never seemed to accept it, continuing to approach you with an unnerving determination. You weren’t even sure why he wanted you. Last you checked; you were a mere peasant compared to him.

You tried to steady your nerves as Lord Corwin came to a halt a few feet away. “Good evening, my lady,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with a hint of nervousness that felt oddly out of place given his authoritative stance.

“Evening, Lord Corwin,” you replied, forcing a polite smile. You focused on the well, determined to keep the conversation brief.

Lord Corwin took another step closer, his proximity making you increasingly uncomfortable. “May I assist you?” he offered, though his voice carried an undertone that felt intrusive rather than courteous.

“There’s no need, my lord,” you said firmly, avoiding his gaze as you continued to work. You lowered the bucket into the well, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze.

He reached out to help, his hand brushing against yours as he took the bucket. The touch was cold and lingering, sending a shiver down your spine. “Allow me,” he said, his smile widening slightly.

“Thank you, but I can manage,” you said, stepping back to maintain some distance. The conversation felt like a repetition of past encounters, and you were eager to end it.

Lord Corwin’s eyes remained fixed on you as he carried the bucket to the edge of the well. “You know,” he began, his tone shifting to something more personal, “I’ve been thinking about our previous conversation.”

You stiffened at the mention of the past. You had rejected his marriage proposal some time ago, a decision that had left a mark on both your lives. “Yes, my lord?” you said, trying to keep your voice neutral.

“I wanted to revisit that offer,” he continued, his tone growing more insistent. “Briarfield would be a much different place with you at my side. I’ve reconsidered the benefits of our union. Your knowledge on herbs and medicine could no doubt be used for something greater”

You felt a pang of discomfort at his persistence. “I appreciate your consideration, Lord Corwin,” you said, forcing a polite smile, “but my decision remains the same. I have no desire to marry. I am also still just an apprentice of my mother. I have not yet mastered the art of medicine yet.”

Lord Corwin’s smile faltered slightly, a murderous look flashed in his eyes, but he quickly masked his disappointment with a practiced expression. “I see. Well, I hope you will reconsider in the future,” he said, his tone now slightly colder. “Briarfield could be quite different with someone of your qualities….and your beauty”. On the inside Lord Corwin felt frustrated. He had kindly asked for you hand and yet a little peasant rejected him. That was outrageous! You were a woman who needed to know her place. He thought about how he would break you and meld you into a perfect doll once he gets his hands on you.

You nodded, eager to end the conversation. “Thank you for understanding, my lord. I must return to my duties now.”

As you gathered your things and began to walk away, you felt Lord Corwin’s gaze lingering on your back. The encounter with Lord Corwin had left a bitter taste in your mouth and so you went to sleep that night hoping tomorrow would be better.

You were once again back in the market which was surprisingly bustling with people which as quite rare as people of Briarfield preferred staying indoors. As you strolled through the market stalls, your basket swinging from your arm as you selected fruits and vegetables and some new herbs you could use in making remedies. The vibrant colours of apples, carrots, and cabbages were a welcome contrast. You carefully picked out the ripest fruits and the freshest vegetables, exchanging brief pleasantries with the vendors.

As you turned a corner, you spotted a new stall set up in the market square. It was different from the others; it was not just a simple arrangement of crates and baskets but rather a carefully designed display that seemed to combine artistry with commerce. A large, hand-painted sign that read “Exotic Produce” hung above the stall, the intricate calligraphy catching the light although the words were simple and straightforward. Colourful fabrics draped over the sides of the stall, creating a vibrant backdrop for an array of unusual fruits and vegetables, most of which you had never seen before.

Exotic, brightly coloured fruits from distant lands—deep purple dragon fruit, star-shaped carambolas, and rich golden mangoes—were stacked beside more familiar produce, like apples and cabbages. Interspersed among the fruits were small pots of herbs, their fresh, earthy scent mingling with the sweet fragrance of the fruits. The herbs weren’t just your usual mint or basil but rare varieties with names you couldn’t even pronounce. Hanging from the wooden beams of the stall were clusters of dried flowers and spices, their deep hues and rich aromas filling the air with an almost magical quality.

You stepped closer, drawn in by the sheer variety of it all. Your eyes drifted over the shelves lined with jars of preserves—fig jam, spiced pears, and candied ginger—as well as small wooden boxes containing spices, teas, and even peculiar, dried fruits that looked almost like they belonged in a fairytale.

Behind the counter stood a young man, who, much like his stall, seemed out of place in Briarfield—in the best way possible. His dark hair fell loosely around his face, and his eyes sparkled with an energy that made him seem more alive than anyone else around. He wore a finely embroidered vest over a linen shirt, with intricate patterns that looked hand-sewn, and a soft leather belt hung around his waist, from which dangled small pouches and trinkets.

He noticed you approaching and greeted you with a warm, almost mischievous smile. “Good morning!” he called, his voice light and welcoming. “Welcome to my little corner of the world. I’m Taehyung. What catches your fancy today?”

You smiled back, intrigued by both him and his wares. “Good morning, Taehyung,” you replied. “Your stall is... quite different from the others. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this in Briarfield.”

Taehyung chuckled, a soft, melodic sound. “That’s the idea,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’ve travelled far and wide, and I like to bring a bit of everything with me—things that can’t be found in just any ordinary village. I believe even the smallest places deserve a little magic.”

He gestured to a tray of fruit that you couldn’t name. “This, for instance, is a cherimoya—some call it the ‘custard apple.’ It’s sweet and creamy, almost like a dream in fruit form.” He pointed to another pile of peculiar, knobby-looking roots. “And these are galangal. They’re used in soups and teas in faraway lands. Perfect for chilly Briarfield evenings.”

You picked up a starfruit, running your fingers along its ridges. “It’s beautiful,” you said, marvelling at the variety of colours and shapes on display.

Taehyung’s smile softened, his tone becoming more sincere. “Thank you. I wanted to bring something new, something that could brighten up this village a little. Briarfield deserves more than just the tales it’s known for.”

You nodded, appreciating the warmth and care he put into his work. “It’s nice to have something so fresh and different here. Everything else feels so... old.”

“Exactly,” Taehyung said, leaning on the counter with an easy grace. “I’ve always believed that even in the most forgotten corners of the world, there should be beauty and wonder. That’s why I’m here.”

You selected a few pieces of fruit and a small jar of honey that had caught your eye. “I’ll take these, please,” you said, placing them on the counter.

Taehyung packed them up carefully, his movements swift and practiced. “A fine choice,” he said, handing you the package with a smile. “And if you ever need something special—whether it’s some fruit, a spice, or even a little conversation—you know where to find me.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, as if for the first time in a long while, Briarfield held something brighter than its usual shadows. “Thank you, Taehyung. I’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

As you walked away, your basket filled with exotic fruits and herbs, you couldn’t help but feel giddy by short encounter with the young man. Taehyung being kind, warm, and full of life—was a welcome change. You found yourself looking forward to the next time you would meet him.

The next morning you woke up to the unsettling news of a young girl gone missing and as result your father forbad you from leaving the house fearing for your safety. However, spending almost a week cooped up in your room had left you suffocated and so you finally convinced your father that everything will be okay and to let you out. Although he was reluctant, he gave in not wanting to see his daughter pout any further and so you happily made your way outside.

Today, the sky was overcast, threatening rain, as you made your way through the village. You’d just left the bakery, a loaf of sweet bread tucked under your arm, oh how you missed the sweet delight! Just then you heard a familiar voice calling your name.

“Good morning!”

You looked up to see Taehyung approaching, his smile as warm as ever despite the grey skies above. He was carrying a large wooden crate filled with a variety of fruits, herbs, and small glass jars. His appearance was a bit more dishevelled today—his sleeves rolled up, a few strands of hair falling into his eyes—but there was a certain charm to his slightly tousled look.

“Taehyung,” you greeted, surprised but happy to see him. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you.”

“Likewise, I haven’t seen you since that day.” he replied, adjusting the crate in his arms as he stopped in front of you. “It seems fate is playing matchmaker today. How have you been?”

You smiled at his easy-going manner, feeling the tension of the day start to slip away. “I’ve been well, thank you. The recent disappearance of the girl in the village put my father on edge so I was cooped up in my house for some time.” You say laughing a little.

He glanced up at the darkening sky, a hint of concern in his eyes. “Ah that’s a reasonable reaction. Hope everything turns out okay it also looks like we’ll be getting quite the storm soon. I was on my way to the market, but it seems I might be racing the rain.”

You both shared a small laugh, and you couldn’t help but notice how comfortable his presence made you feel, even in the midst of the growing chill around you. Taehyung’s energy had a way of lighting up even the dullest days.

“Here,” he said, shifting the crate to one arm. “I brought something for you.”

“For me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

He nodded, carefully balancing the crate as he reached into one of his pouches and pulled out a very small, intricately carved wooden box. The box was stained a deep, rich brown and etched with swirling patterns that reminded you of the stories you’d heard about enchanted forests and ancient lands. Taehyung handed it to you with a playful smile.

“I found this the other day when I was unpacking some of my wares,” he explained. “It’s a blend of tea leaves and spices from the far south. I thought you might enjoy it. A little warmth to brighten up Briarfield’s rainy days.”

You took the box, feeling its smooth surface under your fingers, and opened it. Inside were delicate, dried leaves with an array of colours—deep reds, golden yellows, and dark greens—mingled with tiny bits of cinnamon bark and star anise. The smell that wafted from the box was comforting, a warm mix of spice and earth. Some of these would make a good herbal tea cure, you thought to yourself.

“Thank you, Taehyung. I’m not sure how to repay you for this.” you said softly, genuinely touched by his thoughtfulness.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Consider this as a gift from a friend” he says, face plastered with a boxy smile. “This is lovely. I’ll be sure to try it tonight.” You say excitedly.

He smiled, pleased by your reaction. “I’m glad you like it. If you need instructions on how to brew it, just let me know. It’s a bit different from the usual tea.”

You nodded, slipping the small box into your basket. “I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe I’ll come by the stall tomorrow if I run into any trouble.”

Taehyung’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “I’m always happy to help. Besides, I’m curious to hear what you think of it. I personally quite enjoy its flavours.”

Before you could respond, a sudden gust of wind blew through the village square, and you instinctively pulled your cloak tighter around yourself. Taehyung’s hair was blown back, but he simply laughed at the sudden chill.

“I think that’s our cue to take shelter,” he said, glancing back at the sky. “Would you like to walk back together? I can help carry your things.”

You hesitated for a moment, then smiled and handed him your bread to lighten your load. “I’d appreciate that.”

Together, you made your way back through the village, you made a short stop at Taehyung’s house as he left his crate inside and then moving at a brisk pace to beat the rain towards your own cottage. Taehyung talked easily as you walked, telling you stories of his travels and the different markets he had visited in faraway cities. He had a way of making the world seem larger and more exciting than it had ever felt before, filling your mind with the fantasies of adventure beyond the village’s borders.

By the time you reached your cottage, the first few drops of rain had begun to fall, but you were safely inside before the storm truly hit. Taehyung lingered at the door for a moment, his smile never wavering.

“Well, I’ll leave you to enjoy the tea,” he said, handing you the basket of you bread back. “But don’t forget to tell me how it turns out.”

“I won’t,” you promised. “Thank you again, Taehyung. It was nice running into you.”

“The pleasure was mine,” he replied, giving you a small bow before stepping back into the rain.

As you watched him walk away, disappearing into the misty streets of Briarfield, you couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of warmth in your chest.

You closed the door, the small wooden box of tea still in your hand and smiled to yourself. It seemed that with each encounter, Taehyung brought a little more joy into your life. Perhaps Briarfield wasn’t so gloomy after all.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of cold, calculating eyes watched from a distance as you and Taehyung exchanged smiles and laughter. Lord Corwin stood in the shadow of a nearby building, his gaunt face twisted into a scowl. His hand gripped the nearest wall tightly.

He had been on his way to visit your family, as he often did under the pretence of “checking in” on village matters. But as he saw you walk with that... that merchant, a slow, burning anger began to churn in his chest.

Corwin had noticed the way your eyes lit up when you talked to Taehyung, the way you smiled so easily at him, something you never did when he was near. It sickened him. How dare you, a girl of such modest means, reject his marriage proposal and then offer such warmth to a mere merchant—a man who was not even of noble blood?

The memory of your refusal still stung bitterly. He had been so sure you would accept his hand when he had asked for it nearly a year ago when turned of age. After all, what better offer could there be for a girl of your station than to marry a lord? He had thought he was doing you a favour by offering you a future above the one your humble lineage could ever provide. But instead, you had rejected him—politely, yes, but firmly.

And now... now you were entertaining this, Taehyung. Corwin sneered at the sight of him, with his polished charm and his ridiculous trinkets. What could he possibly offer you that a nobleman could not? A few exotic fruits? A handful of spices? Corwin couldn’t understand why you would favour someone so beneath him. He had the wealth, the power, the standing. Yet, it was this commoner who had caught your attention.

Corwin’s mind raced with jealousy as he watched Taehyung walks away into the rain, his cloak billowing behind him. His gaze then shifted back to you as you stood in the doorway of your cottage, a small smile playing on your lips as you lingered with the box of tea in hand.

His stomach twisted in disgust. That smile should have been for him—Lord Corwin, the one who had the means to truly take care of you. And yet, you had chosen to waste your time with a man who had nothing of worth to offer, a mere peasant in Corwin’s eyes.

As the rain began to fall harder, Corwin remained in the shadows, his mind simmering with dark thoughts. He would not allow this to continue. He had been patient, waiting for you to see sense and reconsider his proposal. But now, with this newcomer in the picture, he knew that his patience was wearing thin.

Corwin had power in Briarfield, influence that stretched far beyond what someone like Taehyung could comprehend. If he needed to remind you of your place and who truly held sway in this village, then so be it. He would not be so easily dismissed—not by you, not by anyone.

His eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a sinister smile as he turned away from the scene. The rain pelted down on him, but he hardly noticed. His mind was already spinning with plans, ways to bend the village to his will, ways to ensure that you would come to see him not as a suitor, but as an inevitable force.

And if Taehyung got in the way... well, Lord Corwin had dealt with nuisances before. This time would be no different.

As he disappeared into the misty streets, the shadows of Briarfield seemed to wrap around him, as if conspiring with his every dark thought. You might not have seen him, but he had seen enough.

And he was not going to forget.

As the days turned into months, your interactions with Taehyung became a cherished part of your routine. Each visit to his stall, each shared conversation, subtly wove the threads of affection between you, creating a bond that neither of you had anticipated.

It began with the little things. Taehyung’s warm smile became a bright spot in your day, a beacon of light in the otherwise dim atmosphere of Briarfield. His thoughtful gestures—saving the ripest fruits, sharing new herbs he’d acquired, and always finding a moment to chat—made your visits to his stall something you eagerly anticipated.

One crisp autumn morning, as you stopped by to pick up some vegetables, Taehyung greeted you with an excited sparkle in his eye. “I’ve got something special today,” he said, pulling out a small basket filled with fragrant herbs and colourful root vegetables. “I thought you might like to try making a stew with these.”

You smiled, touched by his thoughtfulness. “That’s very kind of you, Taehyung. I’ll definitely give it a try.”

Taehyung leaned against the wooden frame of his stall, his curiosity piqued. “You seem to know a lot about herbs yourself. Is it something your family taught you?”

You nodded as you examined the herbs, he handed you. “Yes, my mother is a skilled healer. She’s been teaching me since I was young. I’m learning how to mix tinctures and create salves to help with common ailments around the village.” You paused, twirling a sprig of thyme between your fingers. “It’s given me a sense of independence, something to focus on besides the daily grind of village life.”

His eyes softened as he listened. “That must be fulfilling, knowing that you’re helping people.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his gaze. “It is. Sometimes it’s exhausting, but it’s rewarding when someone comes to you in pain and leaves feeling better.” You glanced up at him and added, “And it also gives me a reason to spend time outside the house. Not many girls here get that luxury.”

Taehyung’s expression grew thoughtful. “It sounds like you’ve found a way to escape, even if it’s just for a moment,” he said. “I’ve seen how stifling it can be here, especially for women.”

You appreciated his understanding. “Exactly. The knowledge my mother has given me makes me feel… free, in a way. I get to explore the woods, gather plants, and create something valuable for others.” You smiled softly, holding up the herbs. “And it helps when someone like you brings something new to try.”

Taehyung’s grin widened, the warmth in his eyes reflecting the budding connection between you. “I’m glad I could add a bit of colour to your day. And who knows, maybe one day you’ll teach me a thing or two about healing.”

You chuckled, feeling a lightness in your chest. “I’d be happy to. Though I have a feeling you’ve got plenty of your own knowledge to share.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a more playful tone. “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to keep trading lessons, won’t we?”

Your heart fluttered at the intimacy in his words, and as you both stood there, surrounded by the rich scents of herbs and the quiet bustle of the market, you realized that this was more than just a simple exchange. It was a promise of something deeper.

Soon, your visits to Taehyung's stall became more than just routine errands—they were moments of genuine connection. On this particularly rainy day, the market was quieter than usual. Taehyung, usually so full of energy, looked a bit worn out as he organized his stall. The rain had beaten down hard, and a small puddle was forming near the edge of his stand.

You approached his stall with a warm smile, noticing the concern on his face. “It looks like the rain has really taken a toll today,” you said, offering him a sympathetic glance.

Taehyung looked up and smiled, though his eyes showed the strain of the weather. “Yes, it’s been a tough day. The rain keeps people away. But I suppose it gives me a chance to get to know my favourite customer a bit better.”

You chuckled and stepped behind the stall to help him. “Well, I am glad to be of assistance. What can I do to help?”

“Could you pass me those cloths? I need to wipe down the counter before it gets any worse,” Taehyung said, pointing to a stack of cloths near the back of the stall.

As you worked side by side, you began chatting about lighter topics to lift the mood. “So, tell me more about your travels. You have mentioned a few places, but what was the most memorable?”

Taehyung’s eyes brightened as he started to talk. “Ah, there was this one time in a small village in the east. They had this festival where they floated lanterns on the river. The entire night was lit up with thousands of glowing lights, and the reflection in the water made it look like the stars had fallen.”

You smiled, imagining the scene. “That sounds beautiful. I cannot even imagine how magical it must have been.”

“It was,” Taehyung said, his voice taking on a wistful tone. “But what made it special was sharing it with people who had never seen anything like it before. They were so full of wonder.”

The conversation flowed easily, and the shared experience of tidying up amid the rain made you feel closer. You noticed Taehyung’s laughter was more frequent today, his usual upbeat demeanour peeking through the weariness.

“Do you ever get tired of all the traveling?” you asked, wiping the counter with a damp cloth.

He shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Not really. Each place has its own story, its own charm. But there are times, like now, when I’m glad to be in one spot, especially when I have someone to share it with.”

You felt a warm flush at his words, your own smile widening. “I’m glad you’re here, too. It is nice to have someone to talk to who understands.”

Taehyung’s eyes met yours with a tender look. “And I’m glad you’re here. Your stories about this village, they make me appreciate the little things more. Even a rainy day like today.”

The sound of the rain tapping against the stall created a soothing backdrop to your conversation. As you worked together, the storm outside seemed less imposing, and the bond between you grew stronger. Each shared moment, each laugh, and every serious conversation deepened your connection, making the quiet, rainy day a memorable chapter in your evolving relationship.

Winter arrived, and with it came the chill that seemed to seep into every corner of Briarfield. The cold was relentless, wrapping the village in a frosty embrace. One evening, as you walked home from the market, you noticed Taehyung trudging through the snow, his breath visible in small clouds against the icy air. He was bundled up in a thick coat, a scarf wrapped snugly around his neck.

"Hey, Y/N!" Taehyung called out, his face brightening as he spotted you. “You look like you have had a long day. How about a break from the cold? There is a new cafe nearby that opened up that serves the most amazing hot chocolate!”

The invitation caught you by surprise, but the idea of warming up in a cozy cafe was too tempting to pass up. You nodded, a smile spreading across your face. “I’d love to. Lead the way!”

The cafe was a small, charming place with warm, wooden interiors and a soft glow from the hanging lamps. The scent of freshly baked pastries and rich chocolate greeted you as you stepped inside, making you feel instantly at ease. You and Taehyung found a small table by the window, where the snow outside created a picturesque scene.

As you both settled in, Taehyung waved to the barista and ordered two cups of hot chocolate. When the steaming mugs arrived, you took a sip and sighed in relief. The drink was velvety and rich, the perfect antidote to the winter chill.

“This is incredible,” you said, savouring the warmth. “I’ve never had hot chocolate this good before.”

Taehyung smiled, his eyes reflecting a wistful light. “It is one of my favourites. It brings back memories of home.”

You tilted your head, curious. “Home? Where did you grow up?”

Taehyung’s gaze softened as he took a sip of his drink. “I grew up in a bustling city far from here. My mother used to make hot chocolate just like this. Every winter, we would sit together by the fire, sipping it and talking about our day. It was a small but comforting ritual.”

The warmth of the drink brought a mixture of fondness and sadness to his eyes. “What happened to your parents?” you asked gently, sensing the shift in his mood.

Taehyung’s smile faltered, and he looked down at his mug, his fingers tracing the rim. “It is a difficult memory. When I was young, there was a terrible accident. My parents were traveling to a distant town to sell their goods, and their carriage was caught in a snowstorm. They did not make it. I was left alone, and I had to fend for myself.”

You reached out, placing a comforting hand on his. “I am so sorry, Taehyung. That must have been incredibly hard.”

He nodded, a sad smile on his lips. “It was. But I learned to carry their memory with me. It’s why I treasure moments like these, where I can share stories and connect with others. It is a way to keep their spirit alive.”

Seeing the sadness in his eyes, you wanted to lift his spirits. You took a deep breath and began, “When I was a child, we had this wonderful tradition during winter. Every year, my mother would make a special batch of gingerbread cookies. We would spend an entire day decorating them with icing and candy, and then she’d tell me stories about the origins of each cookie shape—angels, stars, and hearts. Those stories always made me feel like I was part of something magical, even in the midst of the cold and darkness.”

Taehyung’s eyes brightened at the image. “That sounds so lovely. It must have been a beautiful tradition.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of the memory. “It was. It made the winters feel less harsh, and the stories always filled me with a sense of wonder. Sometimes, when I look back, I realize how those little moments shaped my view of the world.”

Taehyung’s expression softened into a genuine smile, his eyes twinkling. “Thank you for sharing that with me. It is nice to hear about those little moments of happiness. It makes me think that there’s more magic left in the world than I thought.”

The conversation continued, filled with more personal stories and laughter. As you enjoyed the warmth of the cafe and the comfort of Taehyung’s presence, the snow outside seemed to fall even more gently, creating a serene and magical backdrop to your evening together.

As spring approached, the transformation in your relationship with Taehyung became more evident. The simple gestures between you, a lingering touch, a shared glance, began to carry a deeper meaning. Taehyung’s once casual conversations now carried an undertone of affection, and his smile seemed to linger a little longer when he looked at you.

One afternoon, you decided to take a walk through the blooming meadows just outside the village. The air was filled with the sweet scent of wildflowers, and the landscape was painted with vibrant colours as the earth shook off the winter’s cold embrace.

As you walked along the winding path, Taehyung turned to you with a soft smile. “The meadows look stunning this time of year, don’t they? It’s like the world’s been dipped in colour.”

You nodded, taking in the beauty around you. “It is beautiful. I have always loved spring. It feels like a time of new beginnings.”

Taehyung’s gaze softened as he looked at you. “You know, I used to dream about traveling to places like this when I was a child. My mother would tell me stories about far-off lands and the wonders they held. Being here with you, seeing these meadows, it feels like those dreams are coming true.”

You felt a warm flush at his words, and before you could fully process it, Taehyung gently took your hand in his. The gesture was unexpected but felt completely natural. His touch was gentle, and it sent a pleasant thrill through your fingers. You looked up at him, surprised by the boldness of the moment.

“I’ve always admired your sense of wonder,” Taehyung said softly, his thumb lightly brushing your knuckles. “It’s one of the things that drew me to you. You see magic in the ordinary, and that is something I’ve always wanted to cherish.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You had felt a growing connection between you but hearing him express it so openly was both thrilling and comforting. “I never imagined that someone could see me that way,” you admitted, squeezing his hand lightly. “But I’m glad you do. You have brought so much joy and excitement into my life. It’s like you’ve awakened a part of me that I didn’t even know was there.”

Taehyung’s smile widened, and he pulled you gently closer as you continued walking. “I feel the same way. Being with you has made me realize that there’s more to life than just surviving. You have shown me that there’s beauty in every moment, and it’s something I want to experience with you.”

As you walked hand in hand through the meadows, you felt a deep sense of contentment. The shared conversations, the way Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you with affection, and the gentle touches between you all spoke of a growing bond that was more than just friendship. You were falling for him, and it was a feeling that seemed to grow with every passing day.

At one point, you stopped to admire a particularly vibrant patch of flowers. Taehyung leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Do you remember when we first met? I never would have imagined that our friendship would grow into something like this.”

You laughed softly, looking into his eyes. “Neither did I, but I would not change a thing. It has been an incredible journey.”

Taehyung’s gaze softened, and he placed a tender kiss on your forehead. “Here’s to many more adventures together, and to finding magic in every moment we share.”

But one day you got the news that would absolutely break your heart. The news that Taehyung was going to leave the village soon. He has spent almost a year in Briarfield at this point.

The sun was setting, casting a golden hue as the last light of day began to fade. The village was quiet, with only the distant sounds of evening settling in and the loud noises of the crows. Taehyung had just finished packing up his stall for the day, and the air was filled with the crisp promise of twilight.

You stood beside him; your heart heavy with the knowledge that he would soon be leaving for a new venture—a journey that would take him far from the village. The thought of him being away from you was almost too much to bear. As he finished securing the last of his supplies, you took a deep breath, gathering your courage.

“Taehyung,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Are you sure you must leave? I wish there was something I could do to keep you here.”

Taehyung looked at you, his expression a mixture of sadness and determination. He reached out, taking your hands in his, his touch warm and comforting. “I wish I could stay too. But I am but a merchant who must travel to make a living selling new things. I need to go, but not because I want to leave you behind.”

His eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the depth of his emotion reflected in them. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us, about our future. I don’t want to imagine a life where we’re apart. Every moment with you has made me realize just how much I want to share my life with you.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as you listened, your heart aching with the intensity of his words. “Taehyung, what are you saying?”

He squeezed your hands gently, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’m saying that I want us to be together. I want to take you with me, not just on this journey, but on all the adventures that life has to offer. I want to travel the world with you by my side, to explore new places and create memories together.”

His words were like a balm to your anxious heart. The thought of traveling with Taehyung, of experiencing new worlds and building a life together, filled you with a profound sense of joy and excitement.

“I know it won’t be easy, I know I’m no wealthy nobleman,” he continued, his gaze unwavering, “and there will be challenges along the way. But I promise you this: I will always be there for you, and I will work every day to make sure that our life together is everything we’ve dreamed of. Your smile, the little expressions you make when you like something, the sparkle in your eyes when you talk about all the things you wish to do, the way you fiddle with your clothes when you get shy... all the little things. My soul hurt from within at the mere thought of never seeing that again.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you could see the same emotion reflected in Taehyung’s eyes. “Taehyung, I don’t want to be apart from you either. I’ve fallen in love with you, and the thought of being with you, of seeing the world together—it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Taehyung’s face lit up with a radiant smile, his eyes shining with happiness. “Then come with me. Let’s build a future together, explore new horizons, and face whatever comes our way. We can make our dreams a reality, side by side.”

You nodded, a smile breaking through your tears. “Yes, Taehyung. I want that more than anything.”

He drew you into a gentle embrace, holding you close as the last light of day melted into the evening sky. The world seemed to stand still as you both revelled in the moment, the promise of a shared future making the present moment feel like a dream come true.

As you pulled back slightly, Taehyung cupped your face in his hands, his touch tender and loving. “Well, I guess I should go the traditional root and ask for your hand from your father right darling” you giggled lightly hitting his shoulder and nodding.

You sat quietly by the window, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of your dress as you stole glances at Taehyung. He stood with quiet confidence across the room, but you could sense the tension in his posture. Your heart raced, anticipation mingling with fear as you awaited your father’s decision.

Your father sat in his armchair, arms crossed, and brow furrowed in deep contemplation. He regarded Taehyung with a scrutinizing gaze, the weight of his protective instincts evident in every line of his face. You could feel the tension in the air—your father had always been fiercely protective of you, especially after all the unsolicited attention from Lord Corwin.

"So, Taehyung…" Your father’s voice cut through the silence, steady but probing. "You wish to marry my daughter?"

Taehyung nodded respectfully, stepping forward with a calm determination that steadied your nerves. "Yes, sir. I love her, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her."

Your father’s eyes narrowed slightly, flicking to you and then back to Taehyung. "How old are you, boy?"

"Twenty-six, sir."

Your father’s brow raised ever so slightly, and his gaze softened, just for a moment. You could tell he was weighing the age difference in his mind, but six years between you didn’t seem so bad to him—especially when compared to Lord Corwin, a man nearly his own age who had been making his interest in you disturbingly clear for years. The thought of Corwin’s advances made his stomach churn with disgust. The idea of that old, lecherous man laying claim to you was something your father could never tolerate.

"And what is it you do for a living?" your father asked, his tone regaining its edge. He leaned forward slightly in his chair, as if this question held the key to everything.

"I’m a merchant," Taehyung replied. "I trade in rare and exotic goods and sometimes in textile and jewellery. I’ve worked hard to build my business, and I can provide for your daughter."

Your father nodded slowly, digesting the information. "Being a merchant… It’s an unpredictable trade. One day you could thrive, and the next, you’re barely scraping by. How can I trust that you’ll be able to take care of her?"

Taehyung straightened his shoulders, determination flashing in his eyes. "I understand your concern, sir. But I’ve built my business carefully. I’ve secured reliable connections and steady income. More importantly, I will do everything in my power to fulfil her dream of exploring the world. I will give her love, security, and a life full of joy. I promise you that."

Your father leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting between you and Taehyung. His eyes softened as they landed on you, a brief flicker of emotion crossing his face. You could see that he was weighing not just Taehyung’s words, but the way you had been glowing with happiness ever since you met him.

He sighed deeply; his expression conflicted and weighing his options. The image of Lord Corwin, with his balding head and leering eyes, flickered through your mind. Corwin had been circling you like a predator since before you had even turned eighteen, making his intentions clear in ways that had always made your skin crawl. The fact that a man so much older than your father could desire you had never sat well with him.

"At least you’re not old enough to be her father," your father muttered, more to himself than anyone else. He looked up at Taehyung again, a shadow of protectiveness still lingering in his eyes. "That… man, Corwin… He’s been after her for years. I don’t trust him. Not one bit. The thought of him trying to court my daughter makes my blood boil."

Taehyung’s expression darkened slightly at the mention of Lord Corwin, but he quickly masked it with a polite nod. He always noted the looming presence of Lord Corwin around you but never commented on it. "I understand, sir. I would never treat her the way he has. I want to give her a life full of love and respect, not possession."

Your father studied him for a long moment, his gaze softening as the words sank in. Finally, he turned his attention to you, his voice gentle. "And you, my daughter? Is this truly what you want? Does he make you happy?"

Your cheeks flushed a soft pink as you nodded shyly, your hands tightening in your lap. "Yes, Father. He… he makes me happy."

A long sigh escaped your father as he looked between the two of you. He saw the way Taehyung’s eyes never left you, the way they softened when they looked at you, filled with affection. He saw the glow in your face, the happiness that had settled over you ever since Taehyung had entered your life.

"That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "To see you happy, to know you’re loved."

He turned to Taehyung, his expression softening but still holding a firm warning. "If you promise to cherish her, to be a good husband, then I’ll give you, my blessing. But know this, Taehyung… if you ever hurt her or make her unhappy, you’ll have me to answer to."

Taehyung bowed deeply, gratitude and respect evident in every movement. "Thank you, sir. I swear to you, I will make her happier than she’s ever been."

Your father nodded, standing and extending his hand toward Taehyung. As the two men shook hands, a sense of relief washed over you, the tension that had held you captive slowly dissipating. Your mother who had silently watched the exchanged came with a bright smile to congratulate and embrace you.

The future you had dreamed of now felt real filled with love, adventure, and the promise of happiness that only Taehyung could bring.

You felt like you were floating on top of the world. You felt the happiest you ever felt standing in Taehyung’s embrace. Nothing could possibly go wrong you thought. How naive you were to hold such expectations...

When it all came crashing down

The news struck Lord Corwin like a physical blow: your father had agreed to let Taehyung marry you. You, the object of his obsession for so many years, were to wed someone far beneath the station Corwin had believed only he could offer you. His heart churned with a mixture of rage, disbelief, and festering jealousy, each emotion more poisonous than the last.

For years, Corwin had watched you grow, long before you had even turned eighteen. He had admired you from afar, convincing himself that once you came of age, he would swoop in, offer you marriage, and make you his. He believed you needed someone with power and experience—a man of influence who could protect you. He told himself that age was irrelevant when it came to desire and control. And so, he waited, biding his time until you would be old enough for him to claim. You were just so beautiful and young he felt excitement course through his body at the thought of destroying that innocence. He wanted to break you, mind, body, and soul.

The comparison gnawed at him. Taehyung was everything Corwin was not: young, lean, and graceful. Where Corwin had become bloated over the years, his once-powerful body sagging under the weight of indulgence, Taehyung’s figure was trim and strong. His skin held the warmth of youth, tanned from days spent labouring under the sun. Corwin’s own complexion was pale and mottled, the sagging skin of his jowls and the red blotches on his nose a testament to years of excess and drink.

Taehyung’s dark, thick hair fell in soft waves around his sharp features, while Corwin’s own greasy strands had thinned to the point of near baldness. He could hardly stand to look at himself in the mirror anymore, especially when the memory of Taehyung’s easy smile and clear, confident eyes lingered in his mind.

What did you see in him aside from his handsome looks? Corwin seethed, his beady eyes narrowing with contempt as he sat brooding in his dimly lit manor. His fingers, swollen and stubby, adorned with gaudy rings, dug into the arms of his chair as he thought of Taehyung’s hands—strong, capable, hands that had undoubtedly touched you in ways Corwin could only dream of.

And that’s what enraged him the most. For years, he had waited, believed that you would come around, that you would see him as your only option for security. Yet now you had chosen someone like Taehyung—an outsider, a nobody, who had somehow won over both your heart and your father’s approval.

Corwin’s stomach churned with resentment. His bulging belly pressed uncomfortably against his embroidered waistcoat, reminding him of how much he had let himself go. He felt grotesque compared to Taehyung’s effortless charm. The thought of you looking at Taehyung with love and admiration, of you sharing your smiles and your dreams with him, made Corwin sick with jealousy. It should have been him. You should have been his.

You didn’t know it yet, but Corwin wasn’t going to let you go so easily. He had waited years for you, years watching from the shadows, and he wouldn’t allow some pretty-faced merchant to take you away from him. No—if he couldn’t have you, then no one would.

Seething in his dark manor, Corwin’s mind twisted and turned, seeking a way to tear you away from Taehyung. His eyes, bloodshot with rage, caught the flicker of candlelight and a cruel smile crept onto his lips. The sacrifice. Of course. It had been right in front of him the entire time.

For centuries, the village of Briarfield had performed the virgin sacrifice ritual to appease the so-called devil. But Corwin knew the truth—it was a hoax, a vile tradition created by the nobles to satisfy their own depraved desires. Every year, they selected a virgin girl under the guise of protecting the village, only to defile her and leave her for dead like it was nothing.

Corwin had never hated the ritual. In fact, he had always seen it as an effective way to maintain control, to keep the villagers fearful and obedient. But this year, he would use it for his own purposes—to make sure that you were his, and only his.

Summoning the village elders under the pretence of urgent business, Corwin presented his case. They met in a candle-lit chamber, the air heavy with the smell of burning wax and damp stone. The elders, grey-haired and hunched with age, listened carefully as Corwin laid out his plan.

“The time has come once again,” Corwin began, his voice calm but insidious. “The devil demands his sacrifice, and we must uphold our sacred duty to protect this village.”

The elders nodded. They had been complicit in the ritual for years, their faces grim and indifferent. They knew what it truly meant, and they were aware of what Corwin was about to suggest.

“This year,” Corwin continued, his tone taking on a darker edge, “the girl has already been chosen.”

His eyes gleamed as he spoke your name.

“She is the perfect offering,” Corwin said with a sickening smile. “Her engagement to Taehyung is a distraction—a temptation that the devil himself would surely seek to punish. We must act before it is too late.”

The elders exchanged knowing glances. There was no hesitation, no resistance. They agreed without question, their loyalty to the hoax and their own twisted desires overshadowing any concern for your well-being. All they cared about was the material possessions given to them by the nobles. They far to gone to consider feelings of others as greed had completely overtaken them, over the years. The decision had been finalised.

The next morning, the announcement had been made. This year’s sacrifice was You.

As the news spread, panic swept through Briarfield like wildfire. Whispers of the devil’s wrath filled the air, and fear gripped the hearts of the villagers. They believed that the ritual was real, that sacrificing you would protect them from harm.

But Corwin knew better. He watched from the shadows, his heart dark with satisfaction. You were trapped now, ensnared by a centuries-old lie designed to rob you of everything. And when the time came, he would be there waiting. Not even Taehyung could save you from the fate that had been sealed.

In his mind, you were already his.

You stood there with wide eyes at the town square as you processed the news. The words rang in your ears, a low murmur at first, like distant thunder, before crashing into your consciousness with the force of a storm.

You… you had been chosen as the sacrifice.

This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. Your heart hammered in your chest, your limbs went numb, and the world around you seemed to close in. The villagers’ faces blurred together, their whispers and murmurs growing louder. You felt like you were drowning in a sea of fear and dread.

“No,” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head slowly. “Not me…”

This was not supposed to happen. You had been so close to escaping this cursed place, so close to finally living the life you had dreamed of with Taehyung by your side. A life of love, freedom, and adventure—a life far away from the darkness that clung to Briarfield like a shroud.

But now, that dream was being ripped from you.

Your hands trembled as you clenched them at your sides, your mind reeling. What had you done to deserve this? Why were you being punished? You had seen other girls chosen before, seen the hollow, terrified looks in their eyes as they were led away to their deaths. You had always feared this moment, but you never thought it would be you.

A cold, bitter chill swept over you, and your breath caught in your throat. You couldn’t let this happen. You couldn’t let them take you. But deep down, you knew the village’s decision was final. There was no escaping the elders’ judgment, no defying the centuries-old ritual that had claimed so many before you.

Then, through the crowd, you saw him. Taehyung.

"Y/N!" His voice cut through the noise, filled with desperation. He pushed past the villagers, his face a mix of fear and fury. "Y/N!"

As soon as you saw him, the numbness that had overtaken you shattered. Your legs trembled, and you took a step forward, reaching out as if he were your last lifeline.

“Taehyung!” you cried, your voice breaking as tears blurred your vision. “Taehyung, please!”

In an instant, he was there, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. The warmth of his body, the strength of his grip—it was everything you needed in that moment, everything that kept you from falling apart.

"I won’t let them do this to you," he whispered fiercely, his voice shaking with emotion. "I swear, I won’t let them take you."

But even as he spoke those words, you know how impossible that was. Taehyung was new here so he cannot grasp the severity of everything. The elders had spoken, and the ritual demanded obedience. No one had ever defied it and survived.

Before either of you could say another word, strong hands grabbed Taehyung by the shoulders, yanking him away from you. You stumbled back, reaching for him, panic surging through your veins.

"No!" you screamed, lunging forward, but more hands grabbed you, dragging you backward.

"Y/N!" Taehyung shouted, struggling against the men who restrained him. His eyes were wild with fear, his hands clawing at the air as he fought to reach you.

You kicked and thrashed, desperate to break free, to run to him, to hold him one last time. But it was useless. The men’s grip was iron, their expressions cold and unfeeling as they pulled you toward your home to prepare you for the ceremony.

“Taehyung!” you cried out, tears streaming down your face as you reached for him, your fingertips brushing the air between you. “Don’t leave me!”

“I won’t! I promise!” Taehyung yelled; his voice hoarse with desperation as he was dragged further away. “I’ll come for you, I swear!”

But the distance between you grew, your bodies pulled further apart by the hands of fate. His voice became fainter, swallowed by the murmur of the crowd.

As they forced you back toward your home, you twisted and turned, your heart breaking with every step. Your hands reached out, but Taehyung was no longer there. The emptiness between you felt like a void, and for the first time, true fear gripped your soul.

Your room was cold and quiet, save for the soft splashing of water as your mother gently bathed your skin. You sat in the large wooden tub, your arms wrapped around yourself for warmth, though nothing could shield you from the dread settling in your chest. Steam rose from the water, clinging to the air with an eerie stillness, but it did nothing to soothe your trembling body.

Your mother’s hands moved over you with care, her touch soft but weighed down by sorrow. She washed your arms and shoulders, wiping away the traces of the life you once knew, preparing you for the inevitable. Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes dull with grief as she worked in silence. She had not spoken since you were declared as the sacrifice, and the absence of your father—who had left the house earlier, unable to bear the sight of his daughter’s impending fate—hung like a ghost in the room.

After bathing you, she helped you from the tub, wrapping you in a thin cloth. She guided you toward a small stool by the fire, her steps slow, as if every movement pained her. The warmth of the hearth barely touched your skin, doing little to chase away the cold knot of fear in your stomach.

Your mother knelt behind you, her hands moving through your long, damp hair. She did not braid it as she usually did for such occasions. Instead, she combed it gently with her fingers, allowing the dark strands to fall free down your back like a cascading waterfall. Your hair framed your face, its softness a stark contrast to the harsh reality of the ceremony that awaited you. The gentle curls of your locks, freshly washed and perfumed with lavender oil, gave you an air of innocence that would make you appear even more pure to the villagers.

The silence between you both was heavy. You could feel her hands trembling slightly as she worked, her breaths shallow and uneven. She parted your hair down the side, letting it fall in loose waves, unadorned, framing your face in a way that made you look younger, more delicate.

When your hair was dry, your mother brought out the ceremonial dress from the chest at the foot of your bed. She never wanted to use it but here she is. This knowledge weighs at her. Her hands shook as she held the white linen gown before you, her lips pressed into a thin line. The dress was simple, yet ethereal—a symbol of the purity expected of you.

The bodice was a fitted corset, but modest, cinching gently at your waist before flaring out into a flowing skirt that reached down to your ankles. The sleeves were long and billowed softly, cinching at the wrists, giving the appearance of delicate wings. Silver embroidery traced the neckline and cuffs, small and intricate, adding a subtle touch of elegance to the otherwise plain garment.

Your mother helped you step into the gown, her fingers carefully fastening the laces at the back. With each tug, you felt as though the dress was binding you tighter into your fate. The fabric clung to your body, soft but suffocating, as if it were swallowing you whole.

When the final lace was tied, your mother stepped back, her eyes filling with tears as she took in the sight of you. The pure white of the dress, the soft waves of your dark hair, and the pale glow of your skin all worked together to create the image of a perfect sacrifice—untouched, innocent, and ready to be offered.

“You look… beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

But the word felt hollow. You didn’t feel beautiful. You felt like a vessel—something to be given away, something to be used.

As your mother placed a tender kiss on your forehead, you swallowed the lump in your throat, your heart aching with a desperation you could not express. Your father’s absence weighed heavily on you.

This wasn’t how your life was supposed to end. Not like this.

But as your mother’s hands lingered on your shoulders, the reality of it all sank in and all you could do was pray for any God out there to help you.

Taehyung paced back and forth in the small, dimly lit room where he had been confined. The walls, lined with aged stone and heavy curtains, seemed to close in on him, suffocating his hopes. His mind raced with plans and possibilities, each more desperate than the last. He had been thrown into a locked chamber, barred from leaving and, most painfully, from seeing you. He could hear muffled voices and footsteps outside, the occasional clinking of metal, and the distant sound of the village preparing for the ritual. Each noise was a painful reminder of the precious moments slipping away.

Determined not to give up, Taehyung had already tried every lockpicking trick he knew, but the door remained stubbornly shut. His heart pounded in his chest, a heavy weight pressing down on him as he thought of you being prepared for the ceremony. The images of your face—so full of hope and love suddenly replaced by shock—haunted him. He could only imagine how frightened you must be, and the thought of you being forced into the clutches of the so-called "ceremony" filled him with a deep, cold rage.

In a fit of frustration, he banged on the door, shouting for anyone who might hear him. “Let me out! I must see her!” His voice echoed off the stone walls, but it was met with silence. He pounded on the door again, desperate, and breathless. “Please! Someone, help me!”

His efforts were met with nothing but the indifferent response of the guards outside, their footsteps fading as they moved away. Taehyung sank to the floor, his back against the door. He clenched his fists, his knuckles white, and took deep, steadying breaths, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling within him.

In his heart, he knew he couldn’t give up. Not now, not when the love of his life was in such grave danger. Taehyung's mind raced with a single, driving thought: he had to escape, he had to save you. His determination hardened into resolve as he worked to find another way out, his thoughts consumed with the promise he had made to you—that he would never let anything come between you.

He could only hope that, somehow, he would find a way to break free and reach you in time.

And as his mind tried to come up with another escape plan, he door to his chamber creaked open. The dim light from the corridor spilled in, and there, standing in the doorway with a twisted smile, was Lord Corwin. Taehyung’s heart sank, his stomach churning with a sickening sense of dread.

Corwin stepped inside, his heavy footfalls echoing in the small room. He surveyed Taehyung with a sneer, his eyes brimming with malice and twisted satisfaction. "Well, well, if it isn’t the valiant merchant," Corwin drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. "So full of love and devotion for that sweet little girl, aren’t you?"

Taehyung rose to his feet, glaring at Corwin with barely contained fury. "What do you want?" he spat, his voice trembling with rage.

Corwin’s smile widened, revealing yellowed teeth. He moved closer, his oily presence filling the room like a vile stench. "I’ve come to deliver some unfortunate news, I’m afraid. You see, while you sit here locked away, your precious bride-to-be is being prepared for an incredibly special ceremony. One that has been a tradition in Briarfield for centuries."

Taehyung’s jaw clenched as he stepped forward, his hands balling into fists. "I already know about the ritual," he growled. "But you won’t lay a finger on her. I’ll stop you."

Corwin chuckled darkly, shaking his head in mock sympathy. "Ah, but you don’t know the true nature of the ritual, do you? No, you still believe in that quaint little lie they talk about appeasing the devil." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a sickening whisper. "The truth is the ritual has nothing to do with the devil. It’s all for us. The noble men of Briarfield. Each year, we choose a girl. We strip her of her dignity, her purity... we defile her. And then, once we’ve had our fun, we leave her to die."

Taehyung’s eyes widened in horror, his breath catching in his throat. He felt sick, his vision blurring with rage as Corwin continued.

"And your sweet little bride-to-be," Corwin sneered, "will be no different. I will have the pleasure of taking her first. I have waited so long for this moment—watching her blossom into womanhood, untouched and pure, just waiting for me. And when I am done with her..." He paused, his lips curling into a grotesque smile. "Well, let’s just say she won’t be the same girl you fell in love with."

Taehyung’s vision went red. He lunged at Corwin, his fists aiming straight for the older man’s leering face. "You bastard!" he roared, but before his fist could connect, two guards grabbed him from behind, pulling him back with brute force.

Corwin stepped back, laughing cruelly as Taehyung struggled against the guards. "Temper, temper," Corwin taunted, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "You’re nothing but a pathetic peasant, thinking you could protect her. What could you possibly offer her? A life of selling trinkets in the market? She’s too good for you, boy."

Taehyung strained against the guards; his teeth gritted in pure fury. "I’ll kill you! I swear if you touch her-"

"You’ll do nothing," Corwin interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. "Because you’re weak. You’ll sit here, helpless, while we take what’s ours." He adjusted his coat with a smug grin. "Enjoy the show from your cage, boy. I’ll be sure to tell her how useless you were in the end."

With that, Corwin turned on his heel and strode toward the door, a satisfied smile plastered across his face. As he reached the threshold, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. "She’ll cry for you, you know," he said, as if savouring the thought. "But you won’t be able to do a thing about it."

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Taehyung trembling with rage and helplessness. His heart ached with fear for you, but the fire in his chest refused to die. Even as he struggled against the guards, his mind churned with thoughts of revenge, desperate to stop Corwin and save you from the fate he had so vilely described.

The village square was eerily quiet despite the large gathering of people. You stood there, heart pounding in your chest, dressed in your white ceremonial gown. The wind tugged at the hem, but it did little to stir the suffocating atmosphere. It was as if the very air had thickened around you, heavy with expectation and dread.

The villagers watched with false reverence, their eyes dull and unfeeling, offering hollow words of praise for your supposed bravery. Bravery? It was a bitter joke. You had not chosen to stand here, had not chosen this fate. You were forced- condemned.

The elder approached you with a blindfold in his gnarled hands, his wrinkled face twisted into a grim mask of ceremony. His fingers were cold and rough as they tied the cloth tightly around your eyes, shutting out the last slivers of the village you had known all your life. Darkness consumed your vision, leaving only the cacophony of sound and the bitter taste of fear on your tongue.

As you stood there, sightless, you could hear your mother sobbing softly from somewhere behind you. Each sob pierced through you like a blade, her grief wrapping around your heart. You wanted to cry out to her, to run to her, Be held and comforted by your mom but your legs were frozen beneath you, bound by invisible chains of duty and terror.

Hands gripped your arms—firm, unyielding hands—and began to guide you forward, pulling you away from the square. You stumbled at first, your feet catching on the uneven ground, but the hands steadied you, urging you on. You could hear the shuffle of boots and the whispering of cloaks as the elders led you through the village, away from the familiar sounds of Briarfield and deeper into the woods.

The ground beneath your feet shifted as you left the cobblestone streets and stepped onto the soft earth of the forest. The air changed, cooler with the scent of moss and decaying leaves. The sounds of the village faded into the distance, replaced by the rustling of trees and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. You could hear the soft chirping of insects and the distant calls of night birds, their eerie songs only heightening the sense of isolation.

Your heart raced in your chest, each step feeling heavier than the last as you were dragged closer to the altar. Your mind raced with images of what was to come, of the horrors Corwin had spoken of, and you fought to keep your breathing steady. The blindfold pressed tightly against your eyelids, and with each passing moment, the reality of your situation sank deeper into your bones.

The elders murmured soft incantations as they led you further into the woods, their voices low and rhythmic, blending with the sounds of the night. But their words brought no comfort, only a sickening reminder of what awaited you at the altar.

You strained your ears, trying to grasp any familiar sounds, anything that would tell you where you were. The world around you had become an abyss, where each sound was amplified in the darkness. The soft brush of leaves against your skin, the cold gust of wind on your face, the distant crackling of a fire you could not see, all of it swirled together in a maddening symphony of fear.

The hands that guided you suddenly stopped, and you could feel the ground beneath your feet shift slightly uneven stones pressing against your soles. You knew, without seeing, that you had arrived at the altar.

You shivered as they lead you towards the, what you assumed to be the alter made up of old ancient slab covered in moss and lichen. As you were laid upon the stone, you could hear the rustling of the elders’ robes. You strained your ears, hoping for some sound that would anchor you in the moment—a bird’s call, the rustle of leaves, anything—but the forest had gone unnervingly quiet. The blindfold pressed tightly against your face, leaving you in total darkness.

You heard the soft scrape of a blade being drawn, the metallic sound causing your heart to lurch in your chest. The elder murmured words in a language you didn't understand, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You were waiting for something, some terrible finality but what came instead was silence. The kind of silence that felt wrong, like it was filled with secrets.

You felt hands on your shoulders, their grip too familiar, too wrong. And then, you heard it, a low, mocking laugh.

It wasn't the deep, otherworldly growl of a devil, but the cruel, triumphant sound of a man who had long desired something he was now moments away from taking. The sound sent a shiver down your spine.

Lord Corwin.

You jerked against the hands that held you, but they tightened, keeping you in place. Your heart pounded in your chest, panic surging through your veins. You tried to speak, to demand answers, but your throat closed, your voice trapped behind a wall of fear.

"You still believe in the devil, don't you?" Corwin’s voice slithered through the darkness, mocking and taunting. "Poor thing. They have filled your head with stories of demons and sacrifices. But I assure you... there is no devil coming for you tonight."

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. The ceremony, the sacrifice, none of it was real. You were not being offered to some dark entity. You were being handed over to men like him.

"You see," Corwin continued, his voice drawing closer, "this ritual isn’t for protection. It’s for us." He paused, his breath hot and close, sending waves of nausea through you. "For centuries, we've chosen a girl each year to entertain us. To indulge ourselves in ways that the village would never dare to question."

You felt your knees weaken, your body trembling as his words sank in. The stories you had been told since childhood were all lies. The devil was just a tale, a cover for the horrors these men had committed under the guise of tradition.

"Don't struggle," Corwin whispered, his tone sickeningly sweet. "You’ll only make it harder for yourself. After all, you should be honoured to have caught my attention all these years."

Then you felt a hand rustling with your dress and your stomach started twisting at the realisation would exactly Corwin’s words meant. You felt a hand sneak up your dress and grab your thigh and your fight response kicked in. You jerked at the touch and tried your best to swing a fist at where you heard Corwin standing. You were in every disadvantage, but you weren’t going down without a fight. Or so you thought.

You suddenly felt your hands being grabbed and forced down harshly above your head. You cursed aloud at whoever it was but now that both your hands and legs were immobile you weren’t sure what to do. The adrenaline in your body was slowly slipping away and all you felt was terror.

“Tsk tsk tsk, this is not what I expect from you darlin-“ you cut Corwin off “I don’t care about what you expect from me!” you angrily yelled out but just then you felt a sting on your left cheek.

Lord Corwin had slapped you.

“Somebody really needs to put you in your place. Do not forget you are just a mere woman. You exist just to serve men. The only thing of value you hold is beauty and a fertile body to birth children” Lord Corwin replied venomously.

And just before you could retort back, you felt your dress being ripped and only a gasp left your throat.

“No stay back!” you yelled in desperation as you felt Corwin’s grimy hands roam your exposed legs. You felt his breath near your throat as he leaned down to kiss the area. You felt disgusted and angry. Your mind wondered to Taehyung praying that he would show up somehow. You felt Corwin’s hand slid up and grabbed your chest. You cried angry tears as you decided to yell one last time “Taehyung please save me from here!” you cried loud angry tears and just when you were about to give up, you heard it.

From somewhere deeper in the woods, a new sound echoed, a distant clamour of voices, of movement. At first, you thought it was your mind playing tricks on you, desperate to cling to any hope. But it grew louder, closer. The elders hesitated, their hands loosening on your arms and legs.

Taehyung.

You knew it was him. He had come for you.

The voices grew louder, the footsteps echoing closer until they were upon you. You could hear the rush of movement, angry shouts, the crack of branches underfoot. Panic surged through the elders and the men surrounding you. Their once confident whispers turned frantic.

You felt your heartbeat in your throat, pounding with both fear and a sliver of desperate hope.

"Stop them!" Corwin's voice rose in anger, the sharp command lashing through the air like a whip. His hands gripped your arms again, but they were no longer steady. You could feel his panic too, his control over the situation slipping through his fingers.

The elder holding you released his grip entirely, his cowardice evident in his hasty retreat. You could hear the shuffle of feet as others followed suit, abandoning the ritual altar in a state of chaos.

Suddenly, the blindfold was ripped from your eyes. The world returned in a flash of dim torchlight and shadowed faces. The clearing was swarming with men, some village guards, some common folk, and there, breaking through the tree line, was Taehyung.

His eyes blazed with fury; his jaw clenched tightly as he barrelled toward you. For a moment, you were frozen, overwhelmed by the sight of him and by the fact that he had come, against all odds.

Corwin cursed under his breath, his face twisted in rage as he pulled you roughly towards him, using your body as a shield between him and Taehyung. His grip was hard, bruising, his nails digging into your flesh. You could smell the sweat and desperation radiating from him.

"You think you can take her from me?" Corwin spat, his voice a mixture of fear and disgust as he glared at Taehyung. "You, a lowly peasant, dare to challenge me?"

Taehyung slowed his approach but never took his eyes off you, his expression softening for a brief moment as he saw the fear in your eyes. Then, his gaze hardened again, his fists clenched at his sides.

"I will take her from you," Taehyung said firmly, his voice steady despite the storm raging behind his eyes. "Because she doesn't belong to you. She never did."

Corwin scoffed, his breath heavy against your neck. "Look at me, girl!" he growled, yanking your face toward him. His once pristine appearance was now crumbling. His thinning hair slick with sweat, his eyes bulging with anger and something worse, desperation. He reeked of arrogance, of an entitlement so deeply ingrained that he believed the world owed him everything, even you.

"You could have had comfort," Corwin sneered, his eyes darting between you and Taehyung. "Wealth, status... But you choose him?" His voice dripped with venom. "What can he offer you?"

You stared at Corwin, disgust rising like bile in your throat. Even now, he could not understand that what you wanted was freedom, not wealth. You wanted love, not power. And Taehyung offered you all the things Corwin never could—kindness, gentleness, and a future not built on fear.

But before you could answer, Taehyung took a step closer. His voice was like a promise, unwavering and fierce. "I offer her everything you never could, respect, love, and a life free from monsters like you."

Corwin’s grip tightened painfully for a moment, his face darkening. But then, as the approaching crowd surged closer, the realization dawned on him. His plan had failed. The power he once held over you and the village was slipping away.

His eyes flickered with malice as he released you, shoving you toward Taehyung. You stumbled, but Taehyung was there, catching you in his arms, pulling you against his chest protectively.

"Take her," Corwin sneered, stepping back, his lips curling into a bitter smile. "But this isn’t over. You think you've won, but you’ve merely delayed the inevitable." Corvin threw meaningless threats at you.

And with that, Corwin turned, retreating into the shadows of the woods, his figure vanishing into the night.

As you stood in Taehyung’s embrace, trying to make sense of the nightmare that had unfolded, Taehyung’s gaze locked down onto yours. His eyes swept over your form, and his expression hardened, his features darkening with a mixture of concern and fury. The delicate ceremonial gown you wore was torn and dirtied, bruises beginning to form where the men had handled you so roughly. Your entire body trembled, overwhelmed by everything you had endured.

Without a word, Taehyung quickly slipped off his long coat, moving toward you with a gentleness that contrasted the anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. He draped the coat over your shoulders, covering you, shielding you from the eyes of those who had tormented you.

“Stay still,” he murmured softly, his voice thick with emotion. His hands brushed over your arms as he pulled the coat tighter around you, trying to hide the evidence of what could have been. His jaw clenched as his eyes flicked over your face, lingering on every bruise, every tear, and the fragile look of shock etched into your expression.

Anger flared briefly in his eyes as he spoke, his voice low but steady. “I’m so sorry… I should have gotten to you sooner.”

“Do not apologise for something you had no control over. I’m just glad that you made it.” You whisper back.

As Taehyung held you close once again, you looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. “How did you manage to escape?” you asked, your voice trembling with exhaustion.

Taehyung’s face was a mix of anger and determination. “It was not easy. The guards had me locked in a small, dark cell in the chapel, and I was running out of time.”

He took a deep breath, clearly reliving the tense moments. “I overheard the guards talking about a secret passageway under the old chapel, used long ago for smuggling goods. I knew I had to find a way to use that passage to escape. Also, who reveals such information in front of a prisoner?” he says trying to make you smile and you giggled in response.

Taehyung then continued, “I managed to use a piece of broken furniture to pry open a loose stone in the cell wall. It was a desperate move, but I had to try. I crawled through the narrow tunnel, which led to the chapel’s old crypt. From there, I found a way out to the back of the chapel.”

Your heart raced as you listened, imagining his harrowing escape. “But how did you get to me?”

Taehyung nodded, a fierce resolve in his eyes. “Once I got outside, I made my way to the village edge, where I saw your father sitting in sorrow. I found him and told him everything about the ritual, Corwin’s lies, and how I had managed to escape.”

He paused, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of pride and urgency. “Your father was able to rally the villagers and expose Corwin’s true intentions. They were already suspicious, but my escape and the information I brought gave them the final push to act against Corwin and his corrupt schemes.”

You felt a surge of relief and admiration for Taehyung. “I’m so grateful you made it out in time.”

Taehyung gently cupped your face, his expression softening. “I would have done anything to save you.”

Your gaze shifted just in time to see the villagers dragging a furious Lord Corwin back into the clearing. His once-fine clothes were torn and filthy, his large frame covered in mud and sweat. He panted heavily, too slow, and too fat to outrun the angry crowd that had hunted him down.

“Let me go!” Corwin bellowed, his face flushed with humiliation and anger. “You fools! You have no idea what you have done! This village needs me!”

The villagers’ rage bubbled over as they shoved him to the ground. “You let our daughters die!” someone shouted from the crowd. “You let them suffer while we were blind!”

Corwin sneered, trying to rise, but his bloated body betrayed him, and the crowd held him down. He turned his eyes to Taehyung, the hatred in his gaze palpable but Taehyung let the crowd do the talking, deciding to step back with you.

A Month Later:

The grandeur of the magical court of Aetherfall stood in stark contrast to the grim history of Briarfield. The court was a sprawling palace, its walls adorned with shimmering crystals that bathed the hall in a soft, ethereal light. Magic-infused tapestries depicted scenes of legendary heroes and mythical creatures, setting a majestic backdrop for the day’s proceedings.

Lord Corwin, along with other implicated nobles from Briarfield, was presented before the court. The once-proud noble now looked gaunt and dishevelled, his arrogance replaced by palpable fear. The court was abuzz with whispers and murmurs as the noble’s faced judgment for their crimes.

The Chief Enchanter, a figure of immense power and authority, presided over the proceedings. His robes, interwoven with silver thread, glowed with a gentle luminescence. He spoke in a voice that carried both authority and sorrow, condemning the nobles for their abhorrent actions.

“Lord Corwin and his compatriots stand accused of vile corruption and cruelty,” the Chief Enchanter intoned. “Their ritual, a grotesque masquerade to cover their own depravity, has caused untold suffering. Justice must be served.”

Corwin’s face twisted in a mixture of rage and despair as the verdict was read. The punishment was severe—his wealth confiscated, his titles stripped, and he was to be banished from the realms of Aetherfall. The court’s magic would ensure he could never return, casting a protective barrier around the realm to keep him from ever entering again. And he shall work as a peasant until the day he takes his last breath.

Where as in Briarfield, the once-dark village had transformed into a vibrant scene of celebration. Lanterns floated above, and tables were laden with an array of delicious foods and sparkling drinks. The villagers, once sombre, now danced and celebrated the end of a dark chapter in their history.

The village square of Briarfield had been transformed into a picturesque scene of festivity for your wedding. Lanterns, adorned with delicate fairy lights, floated gracefully above, casting a warm and inviting glow over the area. Tables draped in rich, burgundy fabrics were laden with an array of delicious foods: succulent roasted meats, fresh fruits, pastries dusted with sugar, and bubbling pitchers of sweet, sparkling drinks.

The wedding ceremony took place in the heart of the village square, where a beautifully decorated archway of intertwined flowers and greenery formed a natural altar. The archway was adorned with cascading blooms of ivory and blush pink, their gentle fragrance mingling with the cool evening air.

You stood at the entrance of the makeshift aisle, a vision of grace in a simple yet elegant wedding gown. The gown, made from a flowing white fabric, had delicate lace trim along the neckline and sleeves. Your hair, left open in soft waves, was adorned with a few small white flowers, adding a touch of ethereal beauty.

Taehyung stood at the altar, his formal attire reflecting the elegance of the occasion. He wore a dark navy-blue suit with intricate silver embroidery that caught the light, making him look every bit the regal figure. His eyes were locked on you, filled with admiration and love.

As you walked down the aisle, the villagers, gathered to witness the event, applauded, and cheered, their faces beaming with genuine happiness. The sound of soft music played by a small band in the corner of the square added to the celebratory atmosphere.

When you reached the altar, Taehyung took your hand gently, his touch warm and reassuring. The officiant, a respected elder of the village, began the ceremony with words of wisdom and blessing.

“Today, we gather to celebrate the union of two souls who have found their way to each other through trials and love. Let us rejoice in their happiness and witness the vows they will make.”

Taehyung and You shared your heartfelt vows which certainly bought tears in your eyes as the comforting words set in.

The officiant smiled warmly and pronounced you both husband and wife. The crowd erupted in cheers as you and Taehyung shared your first kiss as a married couple.

As the evening progressed, the celebration continued with lively music and dancing. Taehyung and you moved through the crowd, greeting friends and family, sharing laughter and joy. The atmosphere was filled with happiness and relief, a stark contrast to the dark days that had preceded this moment.

During the evening, as the stars began to twinkle in the sky, you and Taehyung took that as a chance a sneaked away from everyone. You both giggled like teenagers as you made your way towards Taehyung’s cottage. As soon as the door closed, Taehyung had you pushed up against it and wasted no time crashing against yours hungrily, filled with all the love and desire he had been holding back throughout the day. You melted into his embrace, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

He trailed kisses along your jawline, down your neck, leaving a trail of fire wherever he touched. Your knees grew weak as he found that one spot on your neck that always drove you wild. His hands roamed over your body possessively, claiming every inch of you as his own.

With a sudden burst of strength, he lifted you into his arms and carried you toward the bedroom. You giggled playfully at the unexpected gesture, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he kissed a trail down your collarbone.

He gently laid you down on the bed, hovering over you with a look of pure adoration in his eyes. "You have no idea how beautiful you are," he whispered huskily before capturing your lips once again. You slowly trail your hands under his shirt and understanding what you wanted, he pulled his shirt off.

He had a soft stomach but years of hard labour had made his muscles taunt and as you were admiring him, his hands traced patterns along your sides before sliding under your dress to caress every curve. The fabric felt like too much of a barrier between your bodies as he explored every inch of skin beneath it.

Sensing your impatience, Taehyung pulled away for a moment to remove your dress, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. Once you were lying before him in nothing but your lingerie, he took a moment to admire the sight.

"You're perfect," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. "Absolutely perfect and all mine."

His hands resumed their exploration, this time with no barriers in the way. He traced circles over the soft skin of your stomach, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Slowly, he moved lower, teasing the sensitive skin just above your panties.

You moaned softly at the sensation, arching into his touch. His fingers danced lightly over your heat, driving you closer to the edge with each gentle caress.

"Please," you whimpered, unable to take the teasing any longer. "I need you."

Taehyung's eyes darkened with desire at your words, and without another moment's hesitation, he removed your panties and looked at your core glistening with wetness. You suddenly felt shy and tried to close your legs, but Taehyung was fast enough to pry them open again.

“Don’t hide from me love, let me see and feel all of you” he said looking directly in your eyes. He brings his fingers to your core once again and starts making a figure 8 forcing the sweetest of sounds out of you.

“That’s it love. You look so pretty” he says before diving headfirst into your centre without a warning making you cry out in pleasure at the new sensation. Your hand reached out to grab his hair, pulling on the strands, eliciting a groan out of him. His tongue circles your clit as he slowly enters a finger inside you. The sensational felt uncomfortable but was soon replaced by blinding pleasure once he started moving them.

You felt a coil build up in your stomach as your breath started to get laboured not understanding the sensation. “Tae- I feel s-something in I- you” you couldn’t form a sentence before the coil snapped and you came with a loud moan panting loudly.

Taehyung finally rose up from between your legs, your juices running down his chin making your cheeks heat up. “You did so well baby!” he said a little bit too enthusiastically. You shyly reached your hands over his shoulders and brought him down for a kiss.

Taehyung pulled away before pressing his forehead to your, your noses touching, “We don’t have to do anything beyond this.” He whispered.

“I want to Tae. Don’t worry” you ease his nerves. “It’s going to hurt a little. I’ll try to go slow okay and if anything hurts too much, stop me” he rambles a little which is endearing to you how much he is worried about you.

You kiss his lips one more time, “I trust you Tae, don’t worry” you smile up at him. Seeing you with those big eyes looking at him asking him to make love to you, Tae scrambles to pull his pants down bringing his cock out and stroking it.

"I love you so much," he murmured as he lined himself up with your entrance. "Are you ready?"

You nodded eagerly, excitement and nervousness mingling together inside you. This was it—the moment you had been waiting for.

With a slow and steady push, Taehyung entered you fully. You gasped at the feeling of him stretching and filling you completely. Tears welled up in your eyes as a mix of pleasure and pain washed over you.

"Shh," Taehyung whispered soothingly as he wiped away a stray tear. "I've got you."

He stayed still for a moment to let you adjust to the sensation before slowly starting to move. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body until all thoughts were replaced by pure ecstasy.

As his pace quickened, so did the intensity of your pleasure until it was all-consuming—like fireworks exploding inside you with every movement. Your nails dug into his back, your moans growing louder with each thrust. You wrapped your legs around his waist feeling him even deeper inside of you.

"I'm… I'm…" you stammered, unable to form a coherent thought as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak. But as you were about to cum, he pulled out making you whine at the loss of your high. Before you could complain, he flipped you over on your stomach bringing your hips up and entered your heat once again.

Your hands clutched the sheets tightly as you feel him move your hair to the side and leave trails of kisses behind your neck and ear. You feel your pleasure build up once more and all you can let out are incoherent words. Taehyung could feel you were close with how much you were clenching around him.

"Come for me, baby," Taehyung urged, his voice filled with a mix of desire and desperation. "Let go."

With one final thrust, you felt yourself unravelling beneath him. Pleasure washed over you in a tidal wave as your hand tightened on the sheets below.

Taehyung's movements grew erratic as he chased his own release. With a low groan, he buried himself deep inside you as he found his own release. He buries his face in your neck as the waves of pleasure subsided, both of you breathless and spent from the intensity of it all.

He flipped you back onto your front before collapsing on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he caught his breath. "I love you so much," he whispered against your skin.

You ran your fingers through his hair lovingly, savouring this moment of intimacy between you. "I love you too," you replied softly. "More than words can say."

As the world outside faded away, you knew that this was just the beginning of a lifetime of love and passion with Taehyung by your side as you both fell asleep in each other’s embrace.

The day had finally come. You and Taehyung were ready to leave the village behind and embark on your long-awaited journey, you were ready to embrace the world beyond the shadows of Briarfield. But first, you had to say your goodbyes.

Your parents stood by the small, worn-down cottage that had been your home for as long as you could remember. The familiar creak of the door, the patches in the roof your father had mended over the years, the garden your mother tended to—it all felt so achingly nostalgic now. Your mother, tears already brimming in her eyes, reached out to hold your hands tightly.

“Oh, my sweet girl…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It feels like only yesterday you were a little child, running through the fields. And now, you are leaving us, off to see the world with your husband.”

You choked back your own tears as you wrapped your arms around her. “I will miss you, Mama. So much.”

Your mother pulled back slightly, cupping your face with her hands. “Promise me you will write when you can. Tell me about all the places you visit and the adventures you have. I want to hear every detail.”

“I promise,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your father, though not an emotional man, could not hide the tears in his eyes. He stepped forward, pulling you into a tight embrace. “You’ve always been strong,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I am proud of you for choosing your own path. But remember, no matter how far you go, this will always be your home.”

You nodded against his chest, feeling the warmth of his familiar embrace one last time. When he pulled away, your father’s gaze shifted to Taehyung, who stood respectfully nearby, watching the exchange with a soft smile.

“Take care of her,” your father said, his voice turning more firm, though still gentle. “She’s everything to us.”

Taehyung stepped forward, his eyes full of sincerity. He took your father’s hand in his, shaking it firmly. “I will. You have my word, sir. I will keep her safe and do everything I can to make her happy.”

Your father’s expression softened, and with a nod, he stepped back to allow you both to continue your farewells.

Taehyung turned to your mother, bowing slightly out of respect. She took his hands in hers and said, “Thank you for bringing light into her life. I can see how much you care for her.”

“I love her with all my heart,” Taehyung replied softly, his voice steady. “And I promise to cherish her, always.”

Your mother smiled through her tears before she let him go.

With the goodbyes said, you and Taehyung turned toward his small carriage carrying all your packed belongings and some of Taehyung’s wares. But before you could take another step, Taehyung gently tugged you back, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you softly on the forehead. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice full of warmth and affection.

You nodded, though tears brimmed in your eyes. “As long as you’re with me.”

He smiled and took your hand in his, lifting it to his lips for a gentle kiss. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, but this time, it was not from the cold, it was from the love that seemed to radiate from him in waves. “Together,” he whispered.

As the carriage started to move, Taehyung navigating it, you gazed at your surroundings, watching Briarfield slowly disappear behind a veil of mist and trees. A small part of your heart ached with the weight of leaving everything familiar behind, your parents, your home, the village where you had grown up—but you were also excited to finally see world beyond the once gloomy village.

He noticed the faraway look in your eyes and gently squeezed your hand. "You know," he said softly, "this isn’t goodbye forever. We will visit your parents soon. Perhaps once we've settled a bit, we can come back and spend time with them during our travels."

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with gratitude and relief. "You’d really do that? Even after everything?"

"Of course," Taehyung said, smiling. "I know how much they mean to you, and they’ve welcomed me like family. I want to make sure you never feel like you’ve truly left them behind."

His words brought comfort, and you leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder as the carriage rolled steadily along. Outside, the landscape was changing from the familiar fields and woods of Briarfield to new horizons.

With that, the two of you settled into a peaceful silence, your hands intertwined as the carriage carried you toward the future.

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