#26 Wall Street

[rabbitcruiser]

George Washington delivered the first State of the Union address in New York City on January 8, 1790.  

[batboyblog]

Things the Biden-Harris Administration Did This Week #29

July 26-August 2 2024

President Biden announced his plan to reform the Supreme Court and make sure no President is above the law. The conservative majority on the court ruled that Trump has "absolute immunity" from any prosecution for "official acts" while he was President. In response President Biden is calling for a constitutional amendment to make it clear that Presidents aren't above the law and don't have immunity from prosecution for crimes committed while in office. In response to a wide ranging corruption scandal involving Justice Clarence Thomas, President Biden called on Congress to pass a legally binding code of ethics for the Supreme Court. The code would force Justices to disclose gifts, refrain from public political actions, and force them to recuse themselves from cases in which they or their spouses have conflicts of interest. President Biden also endorsed the idea of term limits for the Justices.

The Biden Administration sent out an email to everyone who has a federal student loan informing them of upcoming debt relief. The debt relief plan will bring the total number of a borrowers who've gotten relief from the Biden-Harris Administration to 30 million. The plan is due to be finalized this fall, and the Department of Education wanted to alert people early to allow them to be ready to quickly take advantage of it when it was in place and get relief as soon as possible.

President Biden announced that the federal government would step in and protect the pension of 600,000 Teamsters. Under the American Rescue Plan, passed by President Biden and the Democrats with no Republican votes, the government was empowered to bail out Union retirement funds which in recent years have faced devastating cut of up to 75% in some cases, leaving retired union workers in desperate situations. The Teamster union is just the latest in a number of such pension protections the President has done in office.

President Biden and Vice-President Harris oversaw the dramatic release of American hostages from Russia. Wall Street Journal reporter Evan Gershkovich, former Marine Paul Whelan held since 2018, Russian-American reporter for Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty Alsu Kurmasheva convicted of criticizing the Russian Military, were all released from captivity and returned to the US at around midnight August 2nd. They were greeted on the tarmac by the President and Vice-President and their waiting families. The deal also secured the release of German medical worker Rico Krieger sentenced to death in Belarus, Russian-British opposition figure Vladimir Kara-Murza, and 11 Russians convicted of opposing the war against Ukraine or being involved in Alexei Navalny's anti-corruption organization. Early drafts of the hostage deal were meant to include Navalny before his death in Russian custody early this year.

A new Biden Administration rule banning discrimination against LGBT students takes effect, but faces major Republican resistance. The new rule declares that Title IX protects Queer students from discrimination in public schools and any college that takes federal funds. The new rule also expands protections for victims of sexual misconduct and pregnant or parenting students. However Republican resistance means the rule can't take effect nation wide. Lawsuits from Republican controlled states, Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Virginia, West Virginia and Wyoming, means the new protections won't come into effect those states till the case is ruled on likely in a Supreme Court ruling. The Biden administration crafted these Title IX rules to reflect the Supreme Court's 2020 Bostock case.

The Biden administration awarded $2 billion to black and minority farmers who were the victims of historic discrimination. Historically black farmers have been denied important loans from the USDA, or given smaller amounts than white farmers. This massive investment will grant 23,000 minority farmers between $10,000 and $500,000 each and a further 20,000 people who wanted to start farms by were improperly denied the loans they needed between $3,500-$6,000 to get started. Most payments went to farmers in Mississippi and Alabama.

The Biden Administration took an important step to stop the criminalization of poverty by changing child safety guidelines so that poverty alone isn't grounds for taking a child into foster care. Studies show that children able to stay with parents or other family have much better outcomes then those separated. Many states have already removed poverty from their guidelines when it comes to removing children from the home, and the HHS guidelines push the remaining states to do the same.

Vice-President Harris announced the Biden Administration's agreement to a plan by North Carolina to forgive the state's medical debt. The plan by Democratic Governor Roy Cooper would forgive the medical debt of 2 million people in the state. North Carolina has the 3rd highest rate of medical debt in the nation. Vice-President Harris applauded the plan, pointing out that the Biden Administration has forgiven $650 million dollars worth of medical debt so far with plans to forgive up to $7 billion by 2026. The Vice-President unveiled plans to exclude medical debt from credit scores and issued a call for states and local governments to forgive debt, like North Carolina is, last month.

The Department of Transportation put forward a new rule to bank junk fees for family air travel. The new rule forces airlines to seat parents next to their children, with no extra cost. Currently parents are forced to pay extra to assure they are seated next to their children, no matter what age, if they don't they run the risk of being separated on a long flight. Airlines would be required to seat children age 13 and under with their parent or accompanying adult at no extra charge.

The Department of Housing and Urban Development announced it is giving $3.5 billion to combat homelessness. This represents the single largest one year investment in fighting homelessness in HUD's history. The money will be distributed by grants to local organizations and programs. HUD has a special focus on survivors of domestic violence, youth homeless, and people experiencing the unique challenges of homelessness in rural areas.

The Treasury Department announced that Pennsylvania and New Mexico would be joining the IRS' direct file program for 2025. The program was tested as a pilot in a number of states in 2024, saving 140,000 tax payers $5.6 million in filing charges and getting tax returns of $90 million. The program, paid for by President Biden's Inflation Reduction Act, will be available to all 50 states, but Republicans strong object. Pennsylvania and New Mexico join Oregon and New Jersey in being new states to join.

Bonus: President Biden with the families of the released hostages calling their loved ones on the plane out of Russia

[aaron04jpg]

Indycar crash course

(For this all I’m just going to use 2024 as an example)

I hope this is helpful feel free to ask any questions!!

1. Teams/drivers

* There is no limit on how few or many drivers can race for a single team.

* Most teams have 3 cars but some have as low as 2 and others have as high as 5

* Drivers don’t have numbers, the cars/teams do (ex: David is car #66 but will change to #41 when he changes to Aj Foyt racing)

* Additional Teams/drivers will come in for the Indy 500

2. Circuits

* circuit types – from road and street circuits to short ovals (one mile or less) and long ovals, often referred to as superspeedways.

* From what I have seen most Indycar drivers like/prefer ovals

3. Chassis and engines

* Dallara is the exclusive chassis supplier for INDYCAR. The chassis is made of carbon fibre, Kevlar and other composites, and weighs approximately 770 kg.

* Chevrolet and Honda are the two engine manufactures in the series and supply competitors

4. Tyres

* Like Formula 1, INDYCAR has a sole tyre supplier. But instead of Pirelli rubber, INDYCAR uses Firestone.

* Firestone provides three types of tyres for road and street courses, and one for ovals. On road and street courses, there is the ‘primary’ black tyre. The ‘alternate’ red tyre is a softer compound that allows for higher speeds but wears faster. A grey sidewall tyre is used in wet weather conditions.

* On ovals, only the ‘primary’ black tyre is used and if the rain falls at this type of circuit, Indy cars will not take to the track.

5. Aeroscreen

* In Formula 1, the teams have the halo. In INDYCAR, the aeroscreen is a ballistic, canopy-like windscreen anchored by titanium framework surrounding the cockpit.

6. Race weekend format

* The format of race weekends changes from race to race, however the most common is that Friday consists of two practice sessions – one in the morning and one in the afternoon.

* On Saturday, there is a morning practice session followed by qualifying in the afternoon.

* Sunday is race day and it begins with a warm-up session at road and street courses. However, on oval circuits there is no warm-up session.

7. Pit Stops

* Unlike Formula 1 where 16 team members assist during a pit-stop, just seven members of each INDYCAR team are permitted go ‘over the wall’ to execute a pit-stop.

* Team members include: four tyre changers, a fueler, a person responsible for the air jack (to raise the car to change the tyres) and an aeroscreen assistant to clean or pull a ‘tear-off’ from screen to help the driver’s vision.

* Each crew member is required wear a firesuit and helmet for protection.

* Indy cars refuel at each stop and drivers pit depending on the length of the track. In the 10 seconds it takes to fuel the car, all four tyres are changed.

8. Point scoring

* Points are awarded for all finishing positions in INDYCAR.

* First – 50 points, second – 40, third – 35, fourth – 32, fifth – 30, sixth – 28, and so on, going down to just five points for the lowest finishing position in the field.

* Bonus points are awarded for: pole position – 1 point, leading at least one race lap – 1 point, and most race laps led – 2 points.

* For the Indianapolis 500 and the final race of the season, points are doubled in those races.

TEAMS (as of end 2024 season)

1. AJ Foyt Racing

* 14 Santino Ferrucci

* 41 Sting Ray Robb

2. Andretti Global

* 26 Colton Herta

* 27 Kyle Kirkwood (logan’s friend !!)

* 28 Marcus Ericsson

3. Arrow McLaren

* 5 Pato O’Ward (McLaren reserve driver)

* 7 Alex Rossi

* 6 Nolan Siegel

4. Chip Ganassi Racing

* 8 Linus Lundqvist

* 9 Scott Dixon

* 10 Álex Paluo Montalbo

* 4 Kyffin Simpson

5. Dale Coyne Racing

* 51 Katherine Legge

* 18 Jack Harvey

6. Ed Carpenter Racing

* 20 Christian Rasmussen

* 20 Ed Carpenter (ovals only)

* 21 Rinus Veekay

7. Juncos Hollinger Racing

* 77 Romain Grosjean

* 78 Conor Daly

8. Meyer Shank Racing

* 66 David Malukas

* 60 Felix Rosenqvist

9. Rahal Letterman Lanigan Racing

* 15 Graham Rahal

* 45 Christian Lundgaard

* 30 Pietro Fittipaldi

10. Team Penske

* 2 Josef Newgarden

* 3 Scott McLaughlin (twt icon)

[ebsmind]

My Little Treasure | president!Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : being the presidents mistress isn’t easy. even when another woman comes out saying she’s having an affair with him.

word count : 8.5k (the longest ive ever written BE PROUD OF ME)

warning(s) : this is purely based off of shonda rhimes SCANDAL sjiwiejdj, angst, longing (kinda? idk), cheating/infidelity (nellie deserves better), reader pushes her feeling aside, timo being called nico’s personal bitch AHAHAHA, murder (mentioned in case), non accurate descriptions of politics and law stuff, like 2-3 mentions of vomit , use of Y/N (I tried not too but I just couldn't), tbh there’s not a lot of nico x reader IM SORRY part 2 will make up for it, heavy makeout session, smut kinda? idk but next part will be smutty TRUST, getting caught by timo (what the hell Timo), VIOLENCE aka just a slap in the face, one flashback spicy scene and i think that's it!

a/n : LISTEN LISTEN before i say ANYTHING i just wanted to say that i know nico isn’t american but im currently hyper fixated on him and only him and i just started watching scandal again SO I HAD TO so please if you don’t like the “accuracy” don’t read it! this is FICTIONAL but yeah here we are! this closely follows the first episode from season 1! this is a long oneeeee! i’ve also changed the names of Abby, Quinn, Harrison, Huck, AND Cyrus (you’ll see who I change him with 😏) I also go along with the case that’s happening so this is semi like a mystery but not? idk how to explain but you’ll see as you read. send me something in my inbox if you want me to elaborate on anything about the side characters! i definitely want to turn this into an au so send me something so i can write about it or talk about it! here’s the mood board! this is also my second time writing anything spicy so please bear with me, this whole fic idea really had me out of my comfort zone so it isn't my best writing but I still wanted to get this out!

The clicks of your So Kate’s are heard throughout the law firm. Everyone knows it’s you, just by the way you walk. It’s swift and carries determination, you are on a mission. You present yourself with a sense of purpose to your colleagues. Scratch that, they’re family. Despite them technically being your coworkers, you would do anything for the four of them. From saving Gwen from her violent ex-husband to Kurt, a soldier who had served in the United States CIA’s top secret, off the books, B-613 program who ended up being dumped on the streets to beg for food, you saved them and they were all you had. 

You step into the standard-sized conference room, and the extensive window along the back wall displays an orange-to-blue hue. The sun is setting and making it known that the end of the day is near. You first make eye contact with Blair, the senior associate at the firm. She stops her conversation amongst everyone and before she can greet you, Kurt, who is sitting at the very right end of the table, utters, “Perla Schmitz killed herself, channel 5.” 

You make no time to strut to the table and grab the TV remote, which had been sitting next to Blair. You don’t need to change the channel once you press the power button on the remote, it’s all you watch in the firm—across the 55’ inch screen, displayed in bold lettering ‘Perla Schmitz (26) found dead in her home’. You take a second to yourself. Perla had been caught cheating on her husband, who was a very conservative congressman, but that wasn’t the icing on the cake. The guy she was having an affair with? He murdered her husband, brutally. 27 stab wounds to the chest, his head almost decapitated because of how much force was used to slit his throat. If someone were to ask you, you’d say she had it coming. 

You turn to the group and raise a finger in the air as you start to speak. “We knew this was coming, let’s not pretend that she wasn’t the one cheating on her husband.” 

Perla came into your office late last Friday night, around 11:25. You had stayed longer than you originally wanted to, needing to finish up some paperwork that had to be done for one of the previous clients you had. What a way to bring in the new year, but you weren’t complaining. 

“Exactly! I knew she didn’t have enough willpower to continue her life. She took the easy way out, man.” You take a seat at the left end side of the table, parallel to Kurt while Neil, another associate and close friend of yours finishes his veracious remark. You decide it’s best to tell Neil and everyone else to drop the topic, but before you can open your mouth, the firm doors open. The 7-foot ebony-colored wood doors reveal a man with black hair and blue eyes, maybe mid to late 20s. The first thing you notice is how his eyes tear up before he speaks, not how he’s covered in blood. 

“I-…I didn’t kill her I swear! She was my best friend, we were gonna get married!” 

Your irises scan over the pinned evidence on the whiteboard, it had been approximately 18 hours since the 6’2 blood blood-covered man had walked into your firm. Sully St. James comes from an extremely well-respected family. His father was a Veteran from the Vietnam War. Sully himself had done two tours in Iraq and received the Medal of Honor. Having someone as well respected as him, show up to the front door of your firm, asking for help wasn’t new but you were determined to help the man not get convicted as the killer in his girlfriend’s murder case. You needed time, but the US attorney general David Rosen was stubborn. 

“Okay! So, according to Sully, he had just come home from the bar down on 9th St, called SOST, he then walked into the bathroom where the crime scene is, saw Paige’s body on the ground,” Blair points out and before she can finish her sentence Kurt cuts her off. 

“Paige suffered from 2 bullets to the chest and 1 to the head. This wasn’t a freak accident, someone wanted her dead.” Kurt crosses his arms and moves up from the far end of the table. He was correct, but your gut couldn’t help but wail that Sully was not the cause. 

Blair continues to explain the approximate details, “Here’s the weird part, Sully calls the police but before they can get there he flies, and he flies here.” She takes a step away from the whiteboard and makes eye contact with you. She can sense what you’re already going to say. Blair knows you, and she knows you like the back of her hand. 

“My gut tells me that he didn’t do this. Something is missing. I need more, all of you need to try to find something, anything! Anything that can clear this man’s alibi. He said it himself that he loved her and that she was his best friend. I believe him.” You step up from the chair you were sitting in and start heading towards the conference room doors when your cell phone starts to ring. Grabbing it out of your left pocket, the name “Timo Meier” is displayed across the screen. You huff in response. 

He needs you right now and you know if Timo were to tell you to head to the White House as soon as possible you would and it wouldn’t end in a way you would like. Yet, you still manage to press the green button, confirming the call. 

“What do you want.” You’re busy and Timo knows it. This isn’t some ‘Oh hi! How are you doing? I haven’t heard from you in a while phone call. Timo didn’t have time for that, being the White House’s Chief of Staff to Nico Hischiers personal bitch, he never had time.

Timo sighs, you can already picture him, sitting at his desk, elbow resting on it, his thumb and pointer finger trying to relieve his throbbing headache. Timo did so much for the President of the United States and somehow that included calling you on a random Tuesday afternoon. 

“He needs you to come in. Something happened and we need you to make it go away.” Timo lets you take a second to respond. Already sensing that the situation was substandard, it had been months since you had last spoken to Timo and maybe even half a year since you’ve seen Nico. Physically. It wasn’t that you hated him, you could never. It was the fact you left your position as the White House Communications Director for yourself. Everything you did was always for Nico and never not you and when the realization of that hit you, it was time to go. It’s time to separate yourself from some fantasy that only ever works out in the books. The feeling of two hands wrapped around your throat finally caught up to you. 

“I’ve got a client sitting in my conference room Timo.” 

“Look, I know, I know, but this isn’t something that needs to be out in the public. Make it go away. Please. If not for him, for me.” He’s desperate and you know it. If you were to tell him that the only reason you were about to agree was because you held him in such high regard, you’d never hear the end of it. So, you keep your reply as simple as needed. 

“Okay, I’ll be there in 45 minutes. I need to let Neil know.” 

You spot Timo before he spots you. He’s sat on a bench, perhaps getting some proper vitamin D. You watch the way his foot taps every other millisecond. Being cooped up in a mediocre-sized office in the White House can make someone feel insane, you’ve been there. 

As you get closer, you examine the navy blue suit that he’s dressed in. It’s his favorite one, he has 3 more pairs of it because he wears it so much. His tie has gold accents on it, it’s from his wife. You had helped her pick it out for him since you had seen him a lot more than she did. His eyes are heavy, he’s needs a vacation, a long one to be exact. You’ll let Nico know if you ever see him again, maybe he can pull some strings for him even if it’s a nice (long-awaited) expensive dinner.

You walk up the concrete steps before reaching Timo, the only thing grabbing his attention is the click of your heels. Once he realizes that you have walked up to him, you open your mouth to greet him. 

“What.” Timo giggles, he’s knows you mean business but he can’t deny he misses your presence around in the White House even if you were telling him off half of the time. 

“Well, hello to you too.” He stands up and gestures to start walking with him. You obey and within a second you guys stride across the walkway that overlooks the White House. 

“What do you need me for Timo? I don’t work for him anymore.” 

“He needs a favor.” You scoff at Timo and choose not to say anything.

“You still came. You came when I called.” His words hit you like a bus. It stings. Both you and Timo know that whenever the President needs anything from you, you’ll be there in a heartbeat. You’d do anything for everyone you love. You were loyal. That’s how it always had been and why Nico wanted you there every step of the way. He knew that he could turn his back and not expect a knife to be plunged into it. 

“Her name is Vanessa Wyatt. She works in AIDE. She claims to have had an affair with him. I need you to make it go away and fast.” Timo places his right arm on his abdomen, in response you hook your left one into his right and walk side by side with Timo. 

“Is it true?” You try to show no reaction but green envy begins to boil in your stomach.

“No, of course not, but I need you to shut it down.” 

“I need to see him.” You don’t think about your reply until after it leaves your mouth. Both you and Timo come to an abrupt stop. He takes a step back and faces you. 

“No, I don’t think that’s possible.” 

“You want me to shut her up? Then I need to look at him in the eyes and know he’s not lying.” Timo knows that you're serious. You always are. 

“The President’s schedule is packed. He has no time to see you.” He’s straightforward, Timo doesn’t have time for negotiating but luckily for you, you’re a persuasive person. You tend to always get what you want even if it means overstepping some boundaries. 

“He wants my services but here’s the thing Timo, I do not work for him anymore! So, tell him to make time to see me if not you’re just gonna have to find someone else to do it for you. You know where to find me.” 

After giving Timo a faint smile, you turn to walk away. As one foot goes in front of the other, you can’t help but feel that some part of this story is true making your heart ache.

By the time you get back to your office, you get a phone call from Timo, confirming that Nico managed to get out of a meeting so that he could talk to you. With that, you grab your coat off the coat rack and start heading towards the conference room to let at least Gwen know about your abrupt departure. 

“Hey Gwen, duty calls at the White House, I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Anything new?” Gwen knows you’re talking about the case and before she utters anything new she’s found, she strides to the door and closes it. 

Knowing that Sully is just in the room next door, she lowers her voice, “Kurt managed to get into Paige’s email and I’ve been reading. I found one where she emailed a friend. She was supposed to meet up with a friend at the embassy party together but never showed.” 

You nod your head to show that you understand but it’s not enough information to be able to explain why Paige was murdered so, you request more information. 

“Who? and Why?” Keep it simple. 

Gwen takes about a second before she replies, “A girl named Ariel, and I don’t know why.” 

“Find out why. ‘I don’t know’ is not an answer I’m gonna take.” That sentence leaves your mouth as fast as lightning strikes the Earth’s outermost crust. 

To other people, your reply would’ve been seen as impolite but to you and everyone at the firm, it was just that ‘I don’t know’ wouldn’t get you anywhere in a case. Especially when so much is at stake.

“I won’t be long Gwen. Tell Blair and she’ll go interview the friend.”

Once you arrive at the White House you are led to Timo’s office. It’s nice and spacious, with a window that overlooks a garden. Nellie’s garden. A sour taste forms in your mouth. The garden is small, not as big as Jacqueline Kennedy’s garden but Nellie insisted she needed her own. You were told moments ago that she’d be attending this “meeting” and as much as you dislike it, you can’t help but feel empathy for Nellie. She was nothing but nice to you when Nico hired you as the manager for his campaign. It sucked most that you went not even a month later you started sleeping with her husband. 

The combined noises of clothes rustling and heavy breaths consume the aura of the small hotel room. It’s unbelievable how an innocent dinner between two ‘colleagues’ can turn outright sexual within two hours, but you weren’t complaining. Maybe it was the two glasses of cabernet sauvignon that your unconscious level of operation had convinced you to drink. 

Nico places open-mouthed kisses from behind your ear, down to the spot on your breast that the black lace push-up bra doesn’t cover. The white ironed shirt, that had been covering your bra, had been tossed over your head about 15 minutes ago and the black midi skirt was currently being tugged down your hips. As for Nico, all to go was the baby blue dress shirt he wore, and the black tie. Which had been taken off right when the two of you entered the room. His dark navy blue pants remained on the list of clothes that needed to be discarded.  

You take a second to admire Nico’s disheveled hair. The thought of pulling it with your fingers when he whispers sweet nothing’s into your core flashes across your mind. Nico cuts off that thought once his lips make contact with yours. It’s messy and filled with need. The months of longing stares, mainly from him, were finally catching up. You take notice that your black skirt is now pooled at your feet. You take a step out of them, in a haze, the action bringing you closer to Nico. He steadies you by placing his hands on your hips. His fingertips graze the matching black lace panties you paired with your bra. He smirks into the kiss at the thought of you planning it out. 

Nico takes small steps, notifying you to do the same but backward, and guides you to the small light wooden desk against the wall opposite of the bed. The back of your thighs hit the desk and with a swift motion, Nico grabs you at the waist and sets you to sit on top of it. A quick gasp escapes your naturally pouty lips and with that, Nico gets on his knees. 

Timo snaps you out of that thought fairly quickly, “Well hello, long time no see!”

He’s being sarcastic, but you waste no time to get to the point. 

“I was told Nellie was going to be here. She knows about this?”

Timo nods, acknowledging your words, and replies, “It’s not like how it was during the election. The isolation of the White House bonded them, their marriage is as strong as ever.” 

Before you can react to Timos statement, Nellie comes barging into the room. 

“Y/N!” 

You fake a smile, deep down you could never hate Nellie. No matter how hard you try. “Nellie, hi! How are you doing?!” Faking your enthusiastic response, you can’t help but feel guilty. It wasn’t hard to read Nellie, so you could tell she missed your presence around in the White House. Once Nellie reaches you she engulfs you in a heartwarming hug. She rubs your back and soaks in the moment, reminiscing an old friendship.

You’re the first to step away and once you create a small fragment of distance, Nellie answers your question.

“I’m doing well! It’s taking some time getting used to you not being here but I’m managing. How’s the firm?”

“We’re doing well over there. It’s been busy but I like being occupied…can never get enough of it.” You chuckle at the tiny comment you make and Nellie goes to carry the conversation but comes to a halt when the double doors to Timo’s office open once again. 

You told yourself, on the drive over to the White House, that you would keep things strictly professional but Nico always managed to make that very hard. Not only that, you still deeply cared for the man and he did the same as well. But the moment you saw his face everything you had prepared yourself for had expeditiously faded away. You can’t even process the moment, that he’s here and physically in front of you until he’s shaking your hand. 

The last time you saw Nico was at a charity gala in late June. Five months after you left. You only managed to stay for an hour until everything felt overwhelming. Your chest felt like it was being compressed by an unseen entity, and bile was rising in your throat. Nico had tried his best to talk to you but with Nellie by his side and her pregnancy rumors, he couldn’t. It broke his heart when he saw the tears in your eyes. You’d felt betrayed but also knew that being the President’s mistress meant that you never came first. Even if he lied to you and said that you did. 

“Y/N, It’s good to see you.” He’s keeping it simple. He can’t show too much vulnerability, there are still two people in the room. 

“Likewise, Mr. President.” You drop your hand first from the handshake and look closely at Nico. He shaved two days ago, you can tell by the stubble sitting on the lower half of his face. It has just grown enough to the point where if he could get on his knees in front of you, you’d feel it scratch your inner thighs. 

“Shall we take a walk?” Timo kindly suggests. 

The three of you decide to chat in Jacqueline Kennedy Garden. With the company of two secret service members but you don’t mind. 

It may be January but the pansies are still in season. You walk up and admire the some that are purple. You notice that in the outer part of the petal, they’re royal purple, but towards the center, they’re light purple - almost a lilac color. That would be a nice color for a wedding. You’re too busy admiring the flowers that don’t notice the sound of footsteps approaching until the person has already reached you. It’s Nico. You don’t even need to look to know it’s him. He clears his throat before starting the conversation with you. 

“I know you have your hands full with the Sully St. James situation so, thank you for doing this, for me.” He turns to look at you. God you’ve missed him. 

Timo walks up behind you and the president, the two secret service agents aren’t too far behind. He pulls out a beige file folder and speaks. 

“Her name is Vanessa Wyatt.” You take hold of the folder and open it up. 

“I know.” 

“Well if you let me finish- anyways, she’s 25. I’ve heard rumors that she might be talking.” Timo states and looks off into the distance. It’s nice and sunny outside, but not even for it to take the edge off the cold. You take a look at what she looks like. She must be new, or at least got hired after you resigned. She’s cute but looking at her makes you feel nauseated. You push that feeling aside, it’s best at what you do. 

“But you can’t fire her. At least not without a shit show going off.” Both Timo and Nico nod. Nico has yet to say anything. You find it odd but push that thought aside. You know Nico wouldn’t do this. 

“Look, she hasn’t gone to the press, so best shut it down before she opens her mouth.” Timo’s phone rings and he excuses himself to take the call. It’s just you and Nico. A part of you doesn’t want to ask him the long-awaited question but you still do it anyways.

“I have to ask, did you do it?” You look up at him for the first time after reaching the garden. All you see are his eyes, they’re identical to the color of the way he takes his coffee. 

“No. I would never do that.” Nico pauses but doesn’t break the eye contact. You’re starting to feel light-headed. Your heart wants to believe him but there’s someone in your ear screaming that he isn’t telling the truth. 

“You’ve known me for a long time. Most of my time has been spent with you. You know I would never, ever fall for some girl. You know there’s only one girl I truly love.” He accentuates the last sentence. Only you know he’s talking about you. It’s a secret embedded between the two of you. You feel warm, not the bad kind, but the warm and comfy kind. He knows you need reassurance, he knows you think he’s lying, and he knows that if he did do it, it would be unforgivable. It feels like time is passing by slowly, you’re lost in his pools of melted chocolate-like irises. He never once, looked away. He’s telling the truth. 

“We’re due to be back now!” Looking back, you see Timo. He’s about 15 feet away, but he’s walking towards both Nico and you. 

“I’ll handle it. Consider it handled.” You look away. A burning sensation hits the back of your eye sockets. You feel like crying but you won’t let the tears fall.

Once Timo reaches you he wraps his arms around you and the President’s shoulders. 

“The band is back together!”

One hour. One hour is how much time you had given Gwen to find anything and everything about Vanessa Wyatt and boy did she find something. 

Gwen walks beside you, to your left. The pace you’ve set is fast, it wasn’t like you had all day. You had a firm to run and a man’s destiny in your hands. Vanessa Wyatt was just a fork in the road. You had a plan and with enough convincing, she’d end up on a bus to Wisconsin in the morning.

“You’re acting as my witness. Just shut up and listen to what I say. Do not engage with her.” Both you and Gwen had been following Vanessa around Easy Potomac Park for approximately seven minutes. You took immediate notice that she was accompanied by her dog, a golden retriever. Gwen had whispered something about it being adorable, to you it was an amazing conversation starter, a way to get in, and a vulnerability point for Vanessa. 

Vanessa’s quick to take a seat on a bench, overlooking the Potomac River. You waste no time to walk up to her and Gwen follows suit. “What a cute dog! Golden Retriever?” 

Vanessa takes the bait like a fish dumb enough to take a worm that’s on a fish hook. You’ve already got her right where you want her and you’ve only spoken six words. 

“Yeah haha! His name is Thomas Jefferson, like the President, it’s lame I know! But it suits him surprisingly.” The thought of how naive she is crosses your mind. Was she like that with Nico? You take a seat next to her before carrying on the conversation.

“Vanessa, it would be a mistake to think that there will be no consequences to you telling lies about the President.” Her face falls almost immediately. Gwen gives you a look. Almost like she was surprised herself, she was least expecting you to mention the so-called “affair” this early on in the conversation. To your dismay, Vanessa doesn’t make an effort to start running away yet. Stupid girl. Rather instead she questions you. 

“I never told you my name. Who are you?” She finally turns to get a good look at you. Vanessa notices the pale, off-white pantsuit that’s on your body. It fits you to a tee. 

“My name is Y/N.” You pause for a brief moment then continue your lecture to the younger girl, “And I want to make it clear that I’m not here in an official capacity. I’m here because I’m a

concerned citizen.” Vanessa looks away, tears threatening to fall on her plump, pinky cheeks. She isn’t wearing anything to keep her warm besides a thin coat. 

She mutters another question. “What do you want?” 

Your response leaves your mouth rapidly. “I came to warn you. A girl like you can’t win something like this. In, employment your face will be everywhere. And by everywhere I mean tabloids, newspapers, social media, local news. People are going to associate you with a sex scandal. All kinds of information about you will become available to the press in a heartbeat. For example, the 22 sexual partners you’ve had? What about that case of gonorrhea? Oh and let’s not forget your mothers two year stay at Bedford Hospital.” Everything you say comes out nonchalantly. You pause and take a look at the younger brunette, waiting for a response but she says nothing. You take it as a sign to continue. 

“That’s what I thought. It’s information like that, that could ruin everything for you.” Both you and Gwen take notice of Vanessa. The tears that were threatening to fall, are now halfway down her cheeks. Gwen’s heart breaks for the girl but deep down knows it’s for the best. You, however, could care less. Situations like this, never end up good for the woman involved. 

“He said he loved me. He gave me this dog.” Vanessa manages to utter while shaking her head. Her world feels like it’s falling apart and you stand at the altar watching it happen. 

“You see, it’s lies like those that could hurt you when said to other people. People not as nice as me. Here let me give you some advice, hand in your resignation, pack a bag and your dog, get out of this town, maybe in Wisconsin, and start over. Never look back.” 

You’ve managed to move closer to Vanessa. It’s not a lot but you’re still testing the waters. If you were to ask Gwen, she’s still surprised that Vanessa’s still sitting there. Personally, Gwen would have fled a long time ago. The younger brunette to your right, takes a deep sigh and begs, “Why are you doing this to me?” I’m a good person!” You get the urge to laugh in her face. It doesn’t matter if you’re nice or not, people love to ruin people. She should’ve known this by now. A girl this naive should not be in a town like this.

“You want to know who was also a good person?” You question her and continue, “Monica Lewinsky. And she was telling the truth. But she still got destroyed.” You say it casually and Vanessa doesn’t appreciate it, in the next millisecond, she grabs her dog’s leash and hurries away. Gwen is still standing, she’s shocked, to say the least. 

Turning to Gwen, you start to state, “If you get subpoenaed in front of a grand jury, you can testify as an officer of the court that I was working on my own. I didn’t blackmail or threaten her. If you don’t get subpoenaed, then this never happened.” You walk in the other direction from Vanessa. Gwen takes a moment to follow suit and once you hear Gwen’s footsteps, you take your cell phone out of your coat pocket to dial. 

“It’s handled.”

You are typing away on your keyboard, answering some emails when the doors to your office fly open. It’s Blair and she’s rushing in. You can tell her her brain is going 100 miles per hour when she cheers, “Paige is a whore! She’s a whore!” You shake your head and smile in return, expecting her to say more, and that she does. 

“I had Kurt hack into her message log and she had HUNDREDS and I mean HUNDREDS of text messages with this guy named Tom Henderson. And I know what you’re going to say ‘Go interview him then’ We’ll that’s what I did while you were gone doing god knows what!” She’s starting to get off track but you don’t mind. Blair was a chatterbox at heart. 

“Good news is that Tom spilled his guts the minute I went to ask questions, but he has an air-tight alibi. He was working as a bouncer at a club at the time of the murder. There has got to be like 100 witnesses.” You nod your head and before you can tell Blair anything she continues, again. 

“Oh my god! How could I forget?! Henderson claims that Sully knew that he was sleeping with  his girlfriend.” With that, you waste no time to get out of your chair, and before you can even take a step Neil comes strutting into the room. 

“Even worse news, the gun found in the murder has Sully’s fingerprints all over it. It gives him means.” A small “fuck!” leaves your mouth and you dash towards the double doors that connect your office and another. Pushing open the door, you waste no time to start interrogating Sully. 

“Did you know Paige was sleeping with Tom Henderson?!” You point your finger at him like a mom scolding her child. Sully replies stupidly, “What?”

“Did. You. Know?” Accentuating every word in the question causes Sully to get irritated.

“I hired you! You can’t come in here and talk-” Sully’s cut off by Neil almost immediately. You let him overpower the situation by walking away. Your mind is running, trying to think what the possibilities could be.

“Yes, she can! She can do whatever the hell she wants! Without her, you would be in jail right now!” Things are starting to escalate quickly between you three. Blair is just observing what’s happening. You decided to ask one more time even though you hate repeating yourself. 

“Did you know Paige was sleeping with Tom?” The tone that you ask him is softer, things are starting to get real and if you don’t get to the bottom of this, Sully could be going to jail for 20 years to life.

Sully answers your question, “Yes, but I didn’t kill her!” Your mind shuts everything out once he answers your question. Neil and Blair start conducting a plan that you have no care for right now. Deciding to walk away from all the chaos, you manage to bump into the one person you least expect. Vanessa, with Gwen following behind. 

“Oh, what the hell!”

“I want you to give him a message!” You stare Gwen down, scolding her with your eyes for even letting Vanessa in, in the first place. 

“That is not appropriate.” You take ahold of Vanessa’s upper left bicep, Gwen the other, and quickly guide her out of the firm. She tries to go with a fight but your grip doesn’t let her escape. You open the front door to the firm, giving Vanessa access to leave but she makes it clear that you hear what she has to say. “Not appropriate? You came to me and I know he sent you! I know you can give him a message! I’m telling the truth! I am!” 

“This conversation is over. Please leave.”

You’re barely coming down with your high from the previous chaos when David Rosen, the US attorney general walks into your building. 

“Times up, Y/N. I have a warrant.” He’s holding up white papers, stapled together. He’s here to take Sully into custody but luckily for you, David arrived earlier than expected. 

“I still have 40 minutes.” You bark at David, taking a look at your watch. Turning your back to him, you reach the conference doors.

“You can wait in the lobby by all means.” You suggest to David. Maybe he’ll listen to you once and for all. 

“Fine, but in 40 minutes I want Sully St. James in custody.” He huffs out. 

Meanwhile, you try to find Gwen. Once you see her in the conference room you have her call Blair, to let her know that you’ve officially been invaded and time is running out to find Sully a viable alibi. 

Blair, Neil, and Kurt walk through the front doors exactly 7 minutes before David is supposed to be arrested. Blair comes in hot, Neil and Kurt trailing behind her. She’s holding a flash drive and gives you a rundown of what that flash drive material contains. You take no longer than 3 seconds to head your way to the conference room where Sully St. James is currently seated. You tread the water lightly, not wanting to anger him when approaching the situation. 

“We don’t have much time, Sully,” you start with, “the police are here so I need you to listen.” Blair, Kurt, Neil, and Gwen slowly enter the room with you. Most of the time, when debriefing with a client, there’s always someone else with you. In this case, all of them. 

“We were able to verify your alibi.” Sully’s reaction doesn’t surprise you. Confusion shadows over his face. Almost like he didn’t even know how or who verified his alibi. 

“You were?” He looks around the room after he questions you. All eyes are on him and everyone can tell that he’s realizing that his secret is no secret anymore. You nod in response to his question. 

“That’s.. that’s a good thing, right?” He’s playing dumb and you’re catching along. You open your mouth to start a lecture. 

“Sully, you’re the most decorated hero since the Vietnam War, you come from a family of well-respected soldiers, you make your living giving speeches for the conservative right, and you’ve said over and over, that Paige was your best friend. Not your lover.” Your eyes never leave him during the duration of your speech, but when they do you signal Blair to turn on the TV and plug the flash drive into it. Once she does, a video starts to play. It’s from a security camera at an ATM, that so happened to be next to the bar Sully had been seen at before the murder. In the video, Sully St. James is seen standing on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, pacing. He’s waiting for someone. Just on cue, a man in his mid to late 20s is seen approaching Sully. Once he gets his hands on Sully, he kisses him with passion. Almost like lovers who are reuniting for the first time after months of being apart. The room is silent up until the video shows the two grown men kissing. Sully’s breath starts to pick up, he’s infuriated. 

“Paige knew, didn’t she?” You already knew the answer to that but still needed the clarification. You were never one to go based on assumptions. Sully doesn’t respond so you continue, “She knew you were gay, the two of you had a deal.” Sully speaks up for the first time in 3 minutes. 

“You can’t show anyone that.” Disregarding what he said, you ask, “I need the name of the man that you were kissing.”

“Over my dead body! I serve my country. I honor the uniform! I am a conservative man. Everything I stand for is anti-gay. I am the deacon of my church! They’re talking about me running for Congress one day. I’m a hero. I can’t be gay.” His demeanor starts off hostile but then shuts down and he manages to whisper the last remark. 

“But you are. This is who you are.” You point to the TV which had been paused at a time frame where Sully and his secret lover were engaged in a kiss. “This is your alibi. Let us help you.” You walk over to the couch that Sully is seated at and crouch next to him. You and Sully are the only two who have spoken a word so far. Everyone else is watching the scene unfold in front of their eyes. 

Sully stands up straight and looks ahead of him. With one small word, he answers you. 

“No.” You stand, but before you can mutter a word he turns around and heads out the conference room doors. You don’t pay attention as to whether everyone follows you but you follow Sully out. Demanding him to wait but to no avail, he doesn’t listen. Once he opens the firm’s front doors, he is met with David Rosen. 

The bright ceiling lights are the cause of the forming headache across your temples. To say that everything that happened in the past 28 hours is ridiculous would be an understatement. Neil and Blair are at the police station with you. By the time Sully St. James had his mugshot taken, you got a text message from Gwen. You managed to mutter an ‘I have to go’ and frantically left. Having left instructions for Neil and Blair just in case anything happened with Sully. 

Being told, by Gwen, that Vanessa Wyatt was in the hospital and she was going to see her was just the cherry on top. You wasted no time to get there as fast as you could. It was 7 pm by the time you entered the hospital door, exhaustion hitting you like a ton of bricks. Getting into bed sounds much better than having sex. 

Gwen is standing outside of Vanessa’s hospital room when you get there. You greet her then immediately ask, “What happened?” You take a look at Gwen and she genuinely seems worried for the girl who’s in the hospital bed, clearly sedated. 

Gwen explains, “She slashed her wrists. There’s no press lurking around but one of the nurses told me her dad’s flying in from Michigan.” 

You double-check with Gwen, just to make sure that there is no possible threat. “No nurses or doctors, about anything?” Gwen shakes her head, her ponytail moving along with her head, and responds shortly. 

“Just to me.”

“Good stay with her.” You turn to leave, regretting to have even come in the first place. A simple phone call would have been fine. Before you take a step Gwen takes ahold of your upper arm and blurted your name. 

“Y/N! You told me to trust my gut when I first got hired, and now my gut is telling me that she is telling the truth-” You cut off Gwen to share what you think. 

“She’s not.” You keep it short and sweet. Nico told you that he didn’t do it and you believe him. Your heart believes him. He said he loved you and you were the only girl he’s ever loved. 

“I know the President, Gwen. He wouldn’t do this.” You’re starting to become stern since Gwen is being persistent about something that could never, ever possibly be true. 

“I just find it weird that she was going on and on about how there’s this secret room off the Oval Office where they’ve met, and I’ve read about the White House. There is a little room.”

You waste no time to state the obvious. “If you read it, she read it. People are crazy Gwen. They love to get fixated on famous people and stalk them.” 

“But I don’t think she’s crazy.” If you didn’t have any love for Gwen you probably would’ve smacked her for continuing to run her mouth. Since you do care for her deeply, you demand her to tell you why she thinks that. “Why?”

“Okay, she tried to take her life but she didn’t want to die. She called you right after she did it because she wanted him to find out she was hurt and come see her. She thought he would do that.” Gwen rambles everything out in one go as if she’s already rehearsed this conversation in her head. 

“Gwen-”

“She was going on and on about how she thought he’d come to see her and call her some stupid little German word.” You start to doze off but your ears perk up like a dog that hears a siren from a mile away when she mentions the word German. 

“What?” 

Gwen’s face scrunches up and tilts her head to the side at your remark. She’s questioning you and doesn’t even need to open her mouth. 

“Repeat yourself.” You try to tell yourself that you heard something completely different. How pathetic. 

“Oh! He’d call her a German word, she said it means treasure or something. Why does it ma-” You cancel out the rest of Gwen’s sentence and scurry away. Your legs start working independently and lead you down the hospital corridor. Gwen calls out your name in response, but you pay no mind to it. The pit in your stomach is probably the size of a football and it doesn’t help that bile is rising in your throat and everything feels hazy. Betrayal wasn’t something new to you but coming from someone who expected the same loyalty from you was gutwrenching.

Sometimes you think it’s crazy how much authority you still have in the White House because you simply do not work there anymore. Nonetheless, it comes in handy, in instances like these. Rose, the President’s Secretary, leads you the way into the Oval Office in a matter of seconds. It didn’t take much convincing, just a quick “It’s an emergency”. Once Rose opens the first of 3 doors that connect the Oval Office to the White House, you step inside. Walking up to the set of couches that sit in the middle of the room, to set your purse down, you notice Nico isn’t at his desk. Matter of fact he isn’t anywhere in the room. With that, you question Rose about Nico’s whereabouts.

“Where is he?” You expect her to go into detail, whether it’s a meeting or at dinner with Nellie. But Rose never does. Instead, she gives a simple answer. 

“It’ll just be a moment.” With that, Rose walks out and shuts the door behind her. 

It doesn’t take long for Nico to come walking through the door, Timo trailing right behind, but when he does, you notice his attire. He’s wearing a bowtie. Which only means he has something important going on. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Disregarding his question, you plea to him with your eyes. He notices the quiver of your lip and how tears threaten to leave your eyes. Nico senses something is up. 

“We’re gonna need the room, please.” He demands Timo. Nico’s eyes never leave yours. Almost as if there is a magnetic pull to the two of you. Timo stands there dumbfoundedly and questions the President. 

“But, Nico you have to give that toast to the President of Mexico in 10 minutes. Maybe this could wait until after?” Nico’s eyes finally leave yours. He turns to Timo and repeats himself. 

“I said we need the room,” Nico demands almost instantly. That being so, Timo lowers his head, and his hand reaches to the door handle so he can close the door behind him. Once Nico hears the click of the door shutting fully closed he whispers your name. You take no time to finally repeat the word you know Gwen was talking about. 

“Schatzli, huh?” The word rolls off your tongue as if it’s venom. It makes you want to curl up into a ball and never be seen again. Nico turns to you and you repeat the word of endorsement like it’s a chant. You’re angry and Nico knows it. With that, Nico points up ahead. There sits a security camera that overlooks the majority of the room. Watching your every move. Nico knows he can’t have a conversation about Vanessa knowing he’s being recorded. Good thing he was a smart man. During the first week after his inauguration, he managed to find out that the camera doesn’t record past his desk. So the pair of you had rendezvous against the large crystalline window that overlooks Nellie’s garden and a patio. Countless times. 

Nico guides you to stand in front of the window with a simple, “Come here.” To that, you obey. As to why? You don’t even know the answer to that considering all you see is rage. You reach him, keeping your distance but still out of the security camera’s view. Disgust and humiliation still sits on your face, never intended to leave soon. 

Nico is the first to speak amongst you two. “You left me.” He can’t even look you in the eye when he finally admits the truth. A man who lies is always a coward. 

“Because you are married! You said you wanted to dedicate yourself to your marriage! I wanted you to be a better man and be the man that I campaigned for-” Nico cuts you off by slowly taking steps towards you. You don’t need to be a genius to know what he’s doing. 

“Do not touch me.” You planned for it to come out stern but ended up sounding like a hurt duckling. But that you were. The look in Nico’s eye confirms that he was not listening to you. Instead of him pleading for you to hear him out, he steps even closer. Once he reaches you, his hands rest upon your hips. His body aching to make contact with yours. Your body is pressed up against the large window with another step. Nico’s eyes stare down at you, faces only mere inches apart. The pair of you already know where the next thing leads to but you’re not letting him go that easily.

Before his lips can make contact with yours, you push at his chest to get him off of you. Putting all force you can conjure into the shove. You turn around and before you can think your right hand makes contact with his left cheek with a hard smack!

“I believed you! You clouded my judgment! I wanted to believe you because I love you and THIS is what you do to me? She tried to kill herself! Did you know she’s lying in a hospital bed because she slashed her wrists open? I destroyed that girl-” Everything happens too fast and you can’t even see through the tears that started falling just moments ago. Nico finally dared to walk up to you and kiss you. His right hand has ahold of the back of your neck. While the other is on your upper arm, keeping you in place. It takes less than a second for you to come to terms with what’s happening. As mad as you are at Nico, you couldn’t help but feel the need to return the kiss. Your internal dialogue screams at you to stop. To step away and never talk to him again. 

The kiss is slow and passionate, Nico doesn’t want to rush into anything further because he knows you won’t hesitate to take a step back and slap him again. You had the balls no one ever did. Before Nico can gain access to your mouth with his tongue, one of the doors is swung open. 

“I just want to let you know that we can hear you yelling.” By the time Timo shuts the door, Nico and you have created a small fragment of distance away from each other. The satin pinky nude lipstick you wore, transferred onto Nico’s lips. Your hair is a bit disheveled and the pair of you are out of breath. Timo was a smart man so it didn’t take much for him to recognize what was happening behind closed doors. Timo clears his throat before he speaks. 

“Mr. President, I recommended you go wash up.” Timo puts his hands in his pockets and refuses to look you in the eye. 

“Timo-”

“No. You have lipstick on your mouth. You have a toast to give. Go. Now.” With that, Nico obeys and leaves the room, not even looking back towards you. Timo and you bask in a moment of silence. You stand there like a doe who has yet to learn how to walk. The feeling of embarrassment is an understatement to say at least. In times like these, where Timo puts his foot down, it makes you feel like a child being scolded for writing on the wall with markers. 

Timo walks up to the President’s desk and admires the picture he has of the three of you. It was the day of Nico’s inauguration, the picture was taken right after Nico’s speech. Timo wishes things could go back to the way they were. 

“Oh mein gott,” Timo mutters under his breath. After the past two years of knowing Timo, you’d expect that he knew about the affair. 

“You didn’t know? He tells you everything.” You scoff. Nico and Timo are close. Like brothers, who manage to piss each other off all day every day but that doesn’t get in the way of Nico telling Timo every personal detail that goes on in his life. 

“He didn’t tell me this.” He shakes his head and looks down at his feet. 

You wipe a tear that cascades down your left cheek and  quickly mutter, “Because it didn’t matter.” In disbelief, you walk towards the couch, reaching for your purse. Feeling the sudden need to get out of the one place you do not wish to be at. Timo tries to grab at your wrist, tries to talk you into staying but you’re too fast enough for him to get a good grip. Once you reach the door, you adjust your purse and push the straps up against your shoulder blade. You take a deep breath, fighting the urge to stay. Alas, your right hand makes contact with the gold door knob and you twist and push the door open. With every last bit of courage you have, you step out of the Oval Office with your head up high. You’ve got a man to get out of jail.

[bunny-jpeg]

Love ur work btw !

Can I have a

Millionaire shortcake , lemon slice  with tiramisu , blueberry bars served by Fernando Alonso <3

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i love working on these kinds of things so i am always open to hear more! show me what you've got! there are tons of things to often off of, so please submit your prompts! <3 (i have fallen into a fernando alonso pit, i will be making this everyone's problem!) - this did get a little away from me <3

millionaire shortcake: "if they saw you now, you'd be the biggest shame to your family." + lemon slice: "i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making." + tiramisu: “my little slut to ruin.” + blueberry bars: “gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.” served by fernando alonso (formula one)!!

tags: smut/pwp, stroll!reader, driver!reader, nicknames (princess), breeding kink/pregnancy, dirty talk/degrading language, age gap (26/43), baby trapping

lawrence stroll's lovely daughter. quite the looked when fernando caught a glimpse of you, you were cute in the greens of aston matrin. the team your father owned. you were the princess of the track, with pouty lips and eyes that drew poor fernando right in.

he didn't really touch you in an intimate way until your twenty-sixth birthday. you were in your apartment in montreal and at your party, you clung to fernando like a lifeline. after a few hastily made, strong drinks, you were even more clingy. backed up against him in your kitchen. you wobbled beside him and kissed him on the neck.

fernando tried to keep himself composed. but all resolve broke into tiny little pieces when you said the words,

"c'mon, fernny. i want you to fuck me."

now since that first night he took you. he had become a rather frequent visitor to your hotel rooms across the globe. when he invaded you space, he would whisper filth to you. my little slut to ruin. there were more than enough photos of you making needy eyes for your teammate.

aston martin's princess may have found her prince!

will fernando the knight guard his teammate's first championship?

you one time laughed when you saw a rumor blog debating over if you were pregnant or not because of a photo of you and fernando where he accidentally placed his hand on your middle as you were standing there on the curb about to cross the street.

fernando had to admit, he was a little obsessed with you. and while he loved to see the princess ride high with every win. he also loved it when you rode him in the quietness of private rooms. it had been over a year and now in your second season as teammates, you were at your second grand prix. fernando was feeling confident, it didn't hurt that you looked only the sweetest during media day.

it only added fuel to the fire in his belly when you told the press, "well, i consider the spanish grand prix like my second home race!" and gave that winner's smile. maybe if he finished inside of you enough times inside of you, you'll be at least 10% spanish by the time the weekend was over.

he spent the break between interviews fisting his cock in a single stall washroom. he panted as he kept his shirt up and away from his leaky, needy cock. he felt like a teen as his masturbated roughly to mental images of you. call it old age, call it a primal need. but he needed to breed you. he didn't have it when he was married or when he was engaged the second time. but as he saw you in a green sundress in the warm afternoon, speaking very highly over the spanish track, the race and even the country itself. your laugh echoed in his brain as he wondered how nice you'd look with a slight slope to your middle.

fernando's hand on your middle as he shuffled you out of cold montreal and to warmer madrid. he didn't expect you to raise his child in that apartment of yours. not with that leaky tap (that you refused to fix) and how the cold seemed to seep through the walls. - you had all this money and yet you loved vintage things, things with stories. (maybe that was why you loved fernando so much). his home in spain had more than enough room for you and his child. plus, the lack of snow and warmer winters, would be good for you and the baby.

he continued to pleasure himself to thoughts you meeting him at the finish line. not as his teammate, but as his wife. and he knew you weren't stopping at one chubby alonso baby. what sent him over the edge was the thought of you smiling in that sun dress with your hand with your swollen middle. beaming at him, your husband.

he felt driven as he looked at the cum on his hand. he wouldn't waste anymore. he was gonna make you a momma and you were gonna make him a daddy.

he washed his hands and left. his mind working over time to figure out how to get the lovely miss strong and turn her into the beautiful mrs. alonso.

-

turned out fucking you bareback wasn't a hard feat to accomplish. champagne made you horny and your win in spain made you run on a high that let fernando escort you back to your hotel.

he could see your breasts through your team t-shirt and the want went straight to his cock. you leaned up against him and he ushered you into his hotel room. "i'll keep you safe tonight, princess. don't need the paparazzi coming to your door." and you only kissed his scratchy jaw.

you looked at him and giggled, "fernny!!" and pulled him in for a kiss. you moaned with his lips against yours and only giggled more when he pulled you in by the waist.

"do you want me?"

you whined and pressed into him further. you babbled incoherent nonsense as you pawed at his own green shirt.

fernando chuckled, "i'm sorry what was that? i can't hear you over all the noises you're making."

you pouted at your teammate, "c'mon, fernny. you're being a tease! of course i want you. i know you're old, but you're not stupid!" then giggled when he got you onto the bed.

you kicked your sneaked off and wiggled out of your outfit with some trouble. your head and your movements were mixed up, leaving you caught up in your t-shirt. fernando thought you awkward movements were still beautiful. you licked your lips when he took off his hat and t-shirt. you soon saw the tattoo near his hip.

you hated that his tattoos made you soaked.

he stripped naked and his cock only made you stomach flip. he crowded your space once more now on the bed, you were backed against the headboard and fernando grabbed you by the legs till you were up against him. his cock was at full attention, your core clenched at the sight of him. there was a strength to him that excited you. you moaned and fernando eyed your naked body.

"such a pretty princess." he mused. you looked divine. he licked his lips before he pushed you further against the headboard. your legs around his waist. he sank into you and could see the future written in your eyes.

hard to bend over at that point in your pregnancy. but the toys weren't going to pick themselves up. you could hear the patter of feet and look over to see your boys at your legs. three kids in a little over six years was quite the feat. you and fernando wanted a baby girl, but you were on boy three. but you loved them, just like you loved your husband.

fernando felt hot as you took him beautifully. he could easily slot himself into you and he exhaled deeply as he grabbed you a little tighter by the thighs and hiked your hips up further to get the perfect angle. not that his swimmers were in short supply, but he wanted to make sure that nothing was wasted.

he was a man on a mission, he wanted to see you fat with his child. the end of racing and be his wife. it only spurred him on as he moved up against you.

fernando came home and saw you with his sons. the spanish driver loved the sight of you with them. hard to tell you were such a force on the track, a near menace to other drivers. you were so tender with your boys, your middle a little softer, hips a little wider. breasts still tender and larger in a way that made fernando turned on. he knew that he'd get a feel for his wife's soft curves once the boys were in bed.

the thoughts picked up which only made him move faster. his cock throbbed with a heated, healthy want. he got to take your cute pussy and keep it all to himself. not any of these young guns on the track. you wanted mature, older, a stallion. not a show pony. he knew exactly how to make you squirm. plant himself in you and watch you ache for him. he got you even closer to him. he loved it as he continued to fuck you heavily. this was heaven to him, only made more perfect by your beautiful noises.

"you're mine, princess. but you knew that alright. all mine." he groaned as he eyed your beautiful body. more curves that a race track and you fucked like a quick fever. how you moved against him. this was supposed to be a f1 driver, under him and allowing yourself to be used by your older teammate. such a naughty girl.

he shuddered, 'if they saw you now. you'd be the biggest shame to your family."he bullied his cock into your sweet cunt. he could feel that you wanted him. that you needed him. he held onto you tightly and worked your soaked cunt. he curled over you and continued to leave you breathless.

pleasure coursed in your blood as he fucked you. he grasped his shoulders as your body moved with each thrusts of his hips. his cock hit all the right spots. it was like you two were made for one another. he worked you with heavy thrusts. he watched you expressions shift as the pleasure took over. your sweet moans only encouraged him. he wanted to feel you, breed you.

hard to race when the uniform doesn't fit anymore. and the fia wouldn't let a pregnant driver on the track. and even if they did, fernando sure as hell wouldn't let you get into a car that fast. - or at the very least not drive it at speeds that could kill.

he needed you in ways that he never needed another. he made you feel the pleasure through your body. all this time on earth and he had never met anyone else like you. you felt like the world was at his finger tips. he continued his rapid movements and felt the excitement of sexual want with you. he needed you. his little teammate, his little wife. the racing princess. it's alright your kids with him will be racers. strong, just like their mama and papa.

"feels better with no protection, princess. let all of me feel all of you." he groaned. he licked his lips. his cock head nudged against you. he loved the feeling against you. your soaked cunt just kept pulling him in, "the princess, under me. all spread out, needy for me. i love how soft you look." his voice was a low growl as he continued to move. his words filled your mind as your heartbeat increased, "so beautiful." he groaned. you were only going to get more beautiful with his child. baby at your hip while you made dinner. the perfect wife. his pace staggered as the heat moved through you. you panted while he groaned.

your pulse pounded, you felt excitement through your body. you were so exposed to him. all for his taking, you were totally his. he could feel the pleasure in his mouth like familiar wine. better than anything he could ever devour. in between your legs was the finest feast.

"please fernando. please, fuck! you drive me crazy." you gasped, "you don't know how hard it is to focus when i can only think about you!" your words were beautiful and fernando loved it.

"beautiful." he purred.

the moments were erratic, the movements were fast and left you both heavily panting. his pace took the air out of your lungs as he carved himself into you. fernando knew he had you all to himself. now under him and soon at the alter on your wedding day. you held onto him tightly as you came around his cock. your soaked cunt clenched around him and unintentionally leg-locked him. which meant that he couldn't pull out. your body knew that you wanted his baby.

he only bullied his cock further into you. he wanted to gorse himself on you loving sex. he loved the feeling, you really were a princess. and you were all fernando's. a few more heavy thrusts, he finished inside of you. he said a quiet prayer and hoped his boys found a comfy home in your soft womb. no more racing for you miss stroll. he fucked you through his orgasm and it left you so painfully overstimulated. your brain felt blurry as you tried to come back to reality.

fernando finally pulled out and curled up around you. you laid beautifully next to him. his hand graed your middle. he kissed under your ear as the air of the room cooled down. fernando whispered quietly into your ear,

"my princess, i'll always protect you."

-

fernando practically sprinted to you after the victory less than a year later. he was on his knees as soon as he could and kissing your pregnant swell. he held you by the waist and beamed like summer's light. the cameras flashed and you laughed. mr and mrs. fernando alonso, during a new high in his career.

"you did it." you laughed as he got to his feet once more. he held you by the waist and admired your beauty. you leaned to kiss him on the cheek, "you fuckin' did it."

fernando placed a hand on your middle and was so close to you, "only possible because of you, princess."

your belly looked beautiful. the joke around the paddock was that fernando was trying to secure his seat at aston martion by becoming the boss' son-in-law. there also was an air of shock that fernando could ever have a chilf. but the evidence was in the slope of your middle and the slight ache in your back.

he gave you a quick kiss, wanting to make sure you weren't doused in champagne.

fernando's arm eventually was around you once more with a hand on your proud middle. he laughed for the cameras and you admire him with such love, "well, my family is more important than any trophy. they push me to be the best, so i hope that i can win another world championship for them." and then he kissed you on the cheek.

it was quite the shocker when the news came out. especially for your family, both your father and brother wanted to kill fernando for a good while. fernando was quick to propose and promise that he wasn't going anywhere. you were the mother to his child after all. he had to protect you and your baby. that seemed to settle things with your family.

now you were happily married.

as he save you one last kiss in front of the cameras, a promise of what was to come was made in private. you smiled at your husband and he smiled back at you. if you couldn't win this years wdc, then fernando would just have to do it for the both of you <3

[violottie]

"Banksy’s support for the Palestinian people is evident, from his street art throughout the West Bank and Gaza to The Walled Off Hotel in Bethlehem." from Ilesha Magdelena, 26/Mar/2024:

[ititledit]

We have brothers, sons, lovers – but they can’t live here!’ The happy home shared by 26 women

With residents aged from 58 to 94, New Ground is the UK’s first cohousing community exclusively for older women. Setting it up was an 18-year battle – but with soaring numbers of people living alone, is this an idea whose time has come?

Chipping Barnet, a leafy suburb of north London, is an unlikely location for a feminist utopia. Yet it is here, at the top of the high street, past the Susi Earnshaw theatre school and the Joie de Vie patisserie, that you will find Britain’s first cohousing community exclusively for women over 50. The purpose-built development is entirely managed by the women who set it up as an alternative to living alone.

New Ground’s entrance, all glass and bold typography, could easily be mistaken for a co-working space, as could the common room I am ushered into. Everything is bright, airy and spotlessly clean. The walls are lined with sleek white bookcases and a cinema-grade TV screen. The only clue as to the residents’ demographic is an unfinished 1,000-piece jigsaw on a table overlooking the large garden.

[the-bluebird-you-need]

Only counting everyone's canon studio albums. Wings is counted for Paul. There were some date discrepancies, I had to decide what made the most sense in those cases. They will all be listed below the cut in date of the year order.

January 10 Look Up (R)

January 12 Y Not (R)

January 14 Liverpool 8 (R)

January 17 Yellow Submarine (B)

January 27 Milk and Honey (J)

January 30 Ringo 2012 (R)

February 1 Off the Ground (P)

February 6 Kisses on the Bottom (P)

February 14 George Harrison (G)

February 17 Rock 'n' Roll (J)

March 22 Please Please Me (B)

March 25 Ringo Rama (R)

March 26 Wings at the Speed of Sound (P)

March 27 Sentimental Journey (R)

March 31 London Town (P), Postcards from Paradise (R)

April 17 McCartney (P)

April 21 Bad Boy (R)

April 26 Tug of War (P)

May 4 Red Rose Speedway (P)

May 5 Flaming Pie (P)

May 8 Let It Be (B)

May 16 McCartney II (P)

May 17 Ram (P)

May 22 Time Takes Time (R)

May 26 Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (B)

May 30 Venus and Mars (P), Living in the Material World (G)

June 1 Somewhere in England (G)

June 4 Memory Almost Full (P)

June 5 Flowers in the Dirt (P)

June 7 Choose Love (R)

June 8 Back to the Egg (P)

June 12 Some Time in New York City (J)

June 16 Old Wave, Vertical Man (R)

July 10 A Hard Day's Night (B)

August 5 Revolver (B)

August 6 Help! (B)

August 25 Press to Play (P)

September 7 Egypt Station (P)

September 9 Imagine (J)

September 12 Chaos and Creation in the Backyard (P)

September 15 Give More Love (R)

September 17 Ringo's Rotogravure (R)

September 20 Ringo the 4th (R)

September 22 Extra Texture (G)

September 25 Beaucoups of Blues (R)

September 26 Abbey Road (B)

September 29 Walls and Bridges (J)

October 4 Run Devil Run (P)

October 11 New (P)

October 19 I Wanna Be Santa Claus (R)

October 22 Give My Regards to Broad Street (P)

October 25 What's My Name (R)

October 27 Stop and Smell the Roses (R)

October 29 Mind Games (J)

October 31 Pipes of Peace, CHOBA B CCCP (P)

November 2 Cloud Nine (G), Ringo (R)

November 5 Gone Troppo (G)

November 12 Driving Rain (P)

November 15 Goodnight Vienna (R)

November 17 Double Fantasy (J)

November 19 Thirty Three & 1⁄3, Brainwashed (G)

November 22 With the Beatles, The White Album (B)

November 27 Magical Mystery Tour (B), All Things Must Pass (G)

November 30 Band on the Run (P)

December 3 Rubber Soul (B), Wild Life (P)

December 4 Beatles for Sale (B)

December 9 Dark Horse (G)

December 11 John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (J)

December 18 McCartney III (P)

[beatingtheouijaboardallegations]

forever tired of our voices being turned into commodity.

forever tired of thorough medaocrity in the AAC business. how that is rewarded. How it fails us as users. how not robust and only robust by small small amount communication systems always chosen by speech therapists and funded by insurance.

forever tired of profit over people.

forever tired of how companies collect data on every word we’ve ever said and sell to people.

forever tired of paying to communicate. of how uninsured disabled people just don’t get a voice many of the time. or have to rely on how AAC is brought into classrooms — which usually is managed to do in every possible wrong way.

forever tired of the branding and rebranding of how we communicate. Of this being amazing revealation over and over that nonspeakers are “in there” and should be able to say things. of how every single time this revelation comes with pre condition of leaving the rest behind, who can’t spell or type their way out of the cage of ableist oppression. or are not given chance & resources to. Of the branding being seen as revolution so many times and of these companies & practitioners making money off this “revolution.” of immersion weeks and CRP trainings that are thousands of dollars and wildly overpriced letterboards, and of that one nightmare Facebook group g-d damm it. How this all is put in language of communication freedom. 26 letters is infinite possibilities they say - but only for the richest of families and disabled people. The rest of us will have to live with fewer possibilities.

forever tired of engineer dads of AAC users who think they can revolutionize whole field of AAC with new terrible designed apps that you can’t say anything with them. of minimally useful AI features that invade every AAC app to cash in on the new moment and not as tool that if used ethically could actually help us, but as way of fixing our grammar our language our cultural syntax we built up to sound “proper” to sound normal. for a machine, a large language model to model a small language for us, turn our inhuman voices human enough.

forever tired of how that brand and marketing is never for us, never for the people who actually use it to communicate. it is always for everyone around us, our parents and teachers paras and SLPs and BCBAs and practitioners and doctors and everyone except the person who ends up stuck stuck with a bad organized bad implemented bad taught profit motivated way to talk. of it being called behavior problems low ability incompetence noncompliance when we don’t use these systems.

you all need to do better. We need to democritize our communication, put it in our own hands. (My friend & communication partner who was in Occupy Wall Street suggested phrase “Occupy AAC” and think that is perfect.) And not talking about badly made non-robust open source apps either. Yes a robust system needs money and recources to make it well. One person or community alone cannot turn a robotic voice into a human one. But our human voice should not be in hands of companies at all.

(this is about the Tobii Dynavox subscription thing. But also exploitive and capitalism practices and just lazy practices in AAC world overall. Both in high tech “ mainstream “ AAC and methods that are like ones I use in sense that are both super stigmatized and also super branded and marketed, Like RPM and S2C and spellers method. )

[rabbitcruiser]

On the balcony of Federal Hall on Wall Street in New York City, George Washington took the oath of office to become the first elected President of the United States on April 30, 1789.  

[visionofhope04]

Viper (Part 1)

Batfamily x Batsib!Reader

Part 1 (here) Part 2 (coming soon!)

Ages(probably not accurate, just go with it please): Alfred (Immortal), Bruce (45-ish), Barbara (30), Dick (29), Cass (26), Jason (26), Stephanie (21), Tim (20), Reader (18), Damian (16)

Warning(s): cursing, explosions (not detailed), speak of poison and poisoning, (very) minor violence

Part 2 of this headcannon

A/N: Sorry this took so long 😭. So in the preview I posted I said I'd try using third person and they/them pronouns. It hasn't been working out which is why I didn't post this sooner, I'm sooooo sorry :( I've switched it back to using you because I figured it's still inclusive. Hope you guys enjoy this tho! I’m ngl I had a heart attack bc I thought this draft got lost to the void and I was abt to post it.

—

Your boots pounded ferociously on the concrete as you ran and made a sharp right turn into another alleyway. He wasn't far behind you, it would only be a matter of time before you were caught. You had to lose him, fast. Your heart beat against your ribcage, your breaths came out in pants from your nose. You were sweating, and not just from the physical effort. Despite being a trained assassin, you were nervous. Getting caught would change everything, but you were confident in your abilities. However, that did little to stop the lingering feeling of dread you felt every time he got a little too close. You sped up and turned right again into a narrow alley. The Red Hood, who was chasing you, did not expect this and couldn’t slow down, and passed the alley. Frustrated, he backpedaled and ran down the alley he saw you go into.

He reached the end of the alley and slowed to a stop. The alleyway opened up to an empty street, and there was no sign of you anywhere. All he saw was the odd stains on the alley’s walls, a dumpster, and garbage bags strewn about. He lost you.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed, then kicked the dumpster for good measure.

You jolted in your hiding spot, hopeful he wouldn’t notice the extra weight when he kicked it. Your heart began pounding harder, as if it was trying to escape your body, if he found you, you honestly thought it might. Blood rushed in your ears as you waited with bated breaths. Would he open it? Find you? Compromise everything you’ve worked so hard for? You wouldn’t go down without a fight, but with the Lazarus pit in his blood and not much of it in yours, you doubted you’d be able to take him with strength alone. You’d have to be smart about it, as always. Though you didn’t know how your poisons would affect someone the Lazarus pit had such a strong hold on, you’d stupidly never tried it before. You doubt your mother or grandfather would’ve approved of it, as they would’ve been the ones you tested it on (never Damian, you’d never do that to your precious little sibling), but the knowledge would’ve been helpful at the moment. You desperately hoped that he wouldn’t find you, so you wouldn’t have to find out on him. You didn’t want to kill him after all, he’s a part of Damian’s new family. You couldn't ruin your little sibling's chance at a family, at least one of you could find happiness.

After agonizing moments that seemed like years with your overactive brain, you heard him mutter a few more profanities and his footsteps receded. You held your breath as you waited and observed the sounds you heard. Water dripped from somewhere, most likely a roof, and then rustling. Your heart began to pound harder, assuming he was searching, only for you to hear a quiet ‘meow’ and instantly relax. Once you were sure no one was there, you carefully lifted the dumpster lid and peeked. No one. Perfect. You slinked out of the dumpster and grimaced at the smell. Gross, yes, but it worked. It wasn't by far the worst place you've hidden in, but you'd definitely need to shower as soon as you got back to your hideout. The things you do for this job. You trudged in the direction of your current main base of operations, taking great care to stay out of everyone's sight, especially Oracle's.

—

That was your first run-in with Red Hood. It took him longer than expected to figure out what was going on. Took him even longer to find you. You didn't mind though, it gave you more time to work with. It wouldn't be long before Red Hood kept failing to catch you and decided to involve the Big Bad Bat, though. With Batman would come Robin, then Red Robin, and then Nightwing. If Robin found out, it would ruin the whole plan.

The plan was simple, really. Take over Gotham's underground unnoticed, gather members and create a gang, find a perfect time to cause a gang war to distract the Batfamily, and then Talia would initiate her plans to take over Gotham while the bats are busy. Well, that's what the agreed plan was. You'd always been a loose cannon. Since Red Hood had been so close to catching you, the "unnoticed" part had been foiled, albeit a bit later than anticipated. 

"Hey boss, what brings you in today?" Your loyal henchman, Hopper asked you.

"We've got a job to do. Grab some explosives. We're sending a message."

—

“These places feel haunted.” Willow, another one of your most trusted henchmen, said as she placed one of the four explosives into place. 

“It’s probably the Joker’s victims’ souls, he loves warehouses, like typical villains. Maybe they’re here to warn us, ‘Don’t go into the basement, that’s where we’re buried!’. Or maybe they’ll kill us, who knows.”

“This isn’t a joke, you’re scaring me Tina!”

“You guys done?” You ask impatiently, but reluctantly slightly amused.

“Yup.”

— 

"Seven simultaneous explosions have just been spotted around the perimeter of the city."

"Head to the site closest to your current location. If you're paired with someone, split up. Oracle, call in Nightwing and Red Hood if possible. Do not engage with anyone, survey the damage only. "

"Yes sir!" Chirped Spoiler.

— 

After two hours, at 3 am, everyone returned to the cave.

“I take everything I said about explosions back, I hate explosives.”

“Welcome to the club, Timmy! I’ve hated explosives ever since-”

A chorus of groans resonated throughout the batcave, “We know, Jason!”

“You’re not special Todd, most of us here have died in one way or another.”

“Yeah but have you-”

As Damian and Jason began bickering and the whole group headed to the lockers, Dick pulled Bruce aside. 

“B, I didn’t want to say this in front of the others, but I think something bigger is going on. I found these objects around the warehouse I investigated.”

Batman took the bag Nightwing offered and observed the strange objects. Metal letters. Two A’s, one I, one L, and one T.

“It spells Talia.” He observes.

“She would never do something like that if she was behind it, and she wouldn’t leave a calling card, especially not in that form.”

"I know. Hmm. The damage seemed deliberate. It only destroyed the warehouses on the edge of the city. It caused minimal to no damage to surrounding properties."

"You're saying whoever did this is sending a message, about Talia." Nightwing inquired.

"Precisely."

“But who would do this? And why would they warn us? And what exactly are they warning us about? They must be close to her to have an idea of what she’s planning.”

“We’re going to find out.” He says, then turns to Tim, who had just exited the lockers. "Red Robin, check all security footage at all explosion sites and around them, report back all your findings."

Red Robin nods and heads to the Batcomputer to get to work.

—

Dun dun dunnnnn! So how'd you like it? It's been a while since I've wrote anything and it's because I hit a MAJOR writing block. Hope you enjoyed! I was fighting with these tags fr

Tags: @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @rosemary1225 @azazel-nyx @chevelledahuman

@snowcatlove

@danonered @cantbecreative

[strawberryjimin13]

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.

© strawberryjimin13 - all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[probablyasocialecologist]

This is it. Generative AI, as a commercial tech phenomenon, has reached its apex. The hype is evaporating. The tech is too unreliable, too often. The vibes are terrible. The air is escaping from the bubble. To me, the question is more about whether the air will rush out all at once, sending the tech sector careening downward like a balloon that someone blew up, failed to tie off properly, and let go—or more slowly, shrinking down to size in gradual sputters, while emitting embarrassing fart sounds, like a balloon being deliberately pinched around the opening by a smirking teenager. But come on. The jig is up. The technology that was at this time last year being somberly touted as so powerful that it posed an existential threat to humanity is now worrying investors because it is apparently incapable of generating passable marketing emails reliably enough. We’ve had at least a year of companies shelling out for business-grade generative AI, and the results—painted as shinily as possible from a banking and investment sector that would love nothing more than a new technology that can automate office work and creative labor—are one big “meh.” As a Bloomberg story put it last week, “Big Tech Fails to Convince Wall Street That AI Is Paying Off.” From the piece: Amazon.com Inc., Microsoft Corp. and Alphabet Inc. had one job heading into this earnings season: show that the billions of dollars they’ve each sunk into the infrastructure propelling the artificial intelligence boom is translating into real sales. In the eyes of Wall Street, they disappointed. Shares in Google owner Alphabet have fallen 7.4% since it reported last week. Microsoft’s stock price has declined in the three days since the company’s own results. Shares of Amazon — the latest to drop its earnings on Thursday — plunged by the most since October 2022 on Friday. Silicon Valley hailed 2024 as the year that companies would begin to deploy generative AI, the type of technology that can create text, images and videos from simple prompts. This mass adoption is meant to finally bring about meaningful profits from the likes of Google’s Gemini and Microsoft’s Copilot. The fact that those returns have yet to meaningfully materialize is stoking broader concerns about how worthwhile AI will really prove to be. Meanwhile, Nvidia, the AI chipmaker that soared to an absurd $3 trillion valuation, is losing that value with every passing day—26% over the last month or so, and some analysts believe that’s just the beginning. These declines are the result of less-than-stellar early results from corporations who’ve embraced enterprise-tier generative AI, the distinct lack of killer commercial products 18 months into the AI boom, and scathing financial analyses from Goldman Sachs, Sequoia Capital, and Elliot Management, each of whom concluded that there was “too much spend, too little benefit” from generative AI, in the words of Goldman, and that it was “overhyped” and a “bubble” per Elliot. As CNN put it in its report on growing fears of an AI bubble, Some investors had even anticipated that this would be the quarter that tech giants would start to signal that they were backing off their AI infrastructure investments since “AI is not delivering the returns that they were expecting,” D.A. Davidson analyst Gil Luria told CNN. The opposite happened — Google, Microsoft and Meta all signaled that they plan to spend even more as they lay the groundwork for what they hope is an AI future. This can, perhaps, explain some of the investor revolt. The tech giants have responded to mounting concerns by doubling, even tripling down, and planning on spending tens of billions of dollars on researching, developing, and deploying generative AI for the foreseeable future. All this as high profile clients are canceling their contracts. As surveys show that overwhelming majorities of workers say generative AI makes them less productive. As MIT economist and automation scholar Daron Acemoglu warns, “Don’t believe the AI hype.”

6 August 2024

[katakosmos]

i’m here to yap about age gap rosekiller, what’s the dynamic like? is barty a brat or does evan just adore spilling in him sorry spoiling him. who made the first move to start the affair? was barty on a mission to get evan?

it's time to reveal all the thoughts i've been gatekeeping 🫣

barty crouch jr (26), the only son of the most caring and affectionate woman in the universe, needs a job. yes, his parents give him money every month, and yes, they even let him live in their basement (he chose it, his mother had offered him a real room), but he finally (his father's words) wants to become independent. and then, he heard some interesting stories about the very rich husband of one of his mother's pilates friends.

evan rosier (43) is married and rich (he owns a business). he's satisfied with his life and, also, happy. a good man, honest and self-confident. oops i forgot to say that he frequently cheats on his wife with his young, beautiful and sexy assistants. yes, sometimes they're dumb and can't do their job... but i mean, look at them! the eyes, the lips, the hips, the– well. he loves women, he thinks women are the best thing on the planet.

barty tries to work at his dad's office, and he finds out that he hates working. he also discovers that, if he bats his eyelashes and bites his lip, his dad's rich, straight coworkers will pay him for some little... services. he gets the hang of it.

when evan meets barty for the first time, he has just fired his 3rd assistant of the month. it's not the first time evan has seen him near his offices: leaning against the wall across the street, smoking. but it's the first time they've spoken. barty asks to work for him: the job interview takes place in a nearby cafeteria, and it lasts a only few minutes. barty eats a dessert, gets cream on the corner of his mouth, and as soon as he licks it off evan is on another planet.

barty is hired, obviously.

the first time they have sex is in evan's office a few months later. barty falls to his knees, slides under the desk and accidentally gives evan a blowjob. two days later, evan asks barty to stay a little longer. barty tells him that, however, if evan wants to fuck him he will have to pay. after all, he's working overtime.

evan would like to refuse, but he physically can't.

and that's how it starts :))

[missladym1981]

Ok let’s try this again shall we? Marcus Pike kept getting cut out of my damn photo but I finally got him to stay . Again, sorry. Here once again is the damn ledger.

Top row from left to right

1. King Lear- Edmund

2. Lobby Hero- Jeff

3. Much Ado About Nothing- Don John

4. Maple and Vine - Roger

5. Sand- Ahmed

6. Hamlet- Horatio

7. Trolius and Cressida- Thersites

8. Lorenzaccio-Piero Strozzi

9. Orphans - Phillip

10. Graceland - Juan Badillo

11. Nikita- Liam

12. Red Window- Jay Castillo

13. The Sixth Gun- Special Agent Ortega

14. CSI - Kyle Hartley

15. Old Comedy from Aristophanes Frogs- Diony

16. Body of Proof - Zach Goffman

Second row Left to Right

17. The Mentalist - Marcus Pike

18. Burn Notice : the fall of Sam Ace- Comendante Veracruz

19. Wonder Woman - Ed Indelicato

20. Law and Order SVU- Special Agent Greer

21. Charlie’s Angels- Fredrick Mercer

22. Brothers and Sisters - Zach Wellison

23. Lights Out- Assyrian

24. The Good Wife - Nathan Landry

25. Law and Order- Tito Cabassa

26. Without a Trace- Kyle Wilson

27. Law and Order CI- Reggie Luckman

28. NYPD Blue- Shane “ Dio “ Morrisey

29. Touched by an Angel - Ricky Hauck

30. undressed- Greg

31. Buffy the Vampire Slayer - Eddie

‘Third row Left to Right

32. TWMT- Javi Gutierrez

33. If Beal Street Could Talk- Pietro Alvarez

34. The Great Wall - Pedro Tovar

35. We Can Be Heros - Marcus Moreno

36. WW84- Maxwell Lord

37. Bloodsucking Bastards- Max Phillips

38. Kingsman : The Golden Circle- Agent Whiskey

39. The Equalizer- Dave York

40. Prospect- Ezra

41. Triple Frontier- Frankie Morales

‘Row 4 left to right

42. The Bubble- Dieter Bravo

43. House Comes With A Bird - Nico

44. Strange Way of Life- Silva

45. Freaky Tales- Clint

46. Drive-Away Dolls- Santos

47. The Uninvited- Lucien Flores

48. The Mandalorian - Din Djarin

49.Game of Thrones- Oberyn Mother Fuckin Martell

Final row of epicnessssssss left to right

50. The Materialist- TBA

51. Narcos- Javier Peña

52. The Last of Us- Joel Miller

53. Gladiator ll- General Marcus Acacius

54. Merge Mansion- Tim Rockford

55. SNL- Mr. Ben

56. Fantastic Four- Reed Richards

57. The Wild Robot- Fink

58. Housebroken- Claude

Sorry again for the fuck up. Sometimes shit happens but they are fixed now. Thank you have a good night

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 29

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 26, part 27, part 28

Dustin’s not exactly sure what happened. He was patiently waiting for Steve to meet him in the lobby, but it’s been almost a half hour, and Dustin has no idea where he is. He already went back to check in Eddie’s room, but nothing. Then outside, nothing again. And Steve would never leave his stranded, so it can’t be that.

Which leaves Dustin completely alone, eating a Snickers bar that he got from the vending machine because they were out of Three Musketeers. The second one he got for Steve slowly melting in his pocket. Wondering if it was at the level where he had to go check under the bathroom stalls to see if any of the feet were wearing Steve’s shoes.

But he can at least be a little bit saner and go double check Eddie’s room again. Maybe Steve couldn’t find him and went back there to look. That would be the logical thing to do.

When Dustin opens the door, Steve has the chair pulled up close to Eddie’s bed hunched over and looking like he’s about to cry. Eddie’s looks like halfway there himself. Both of them jumping to hide that fact when Dustin entered.

“I didn’t know where you went,” Dustin says. Not sure whether to ignore or acknowledge what he just walked into. “I thought we were going to go home.”

Steve shakes his head gently, pressing his eyes shut like it will stop the tears from flowing. “Yeah, sorry. Could you just give me a second? I was just talking to Eddie about something.”

“It’s ok,” Eddie brushes off with his hand. “Take the kid home, we can talk about this later.”

“Are you sure? He can wait another minute-.”

“I’m sure. We’re good, ok. Go home.” Eddie looks at him like he really means what he’s saying. Not just pretending for both of their benefit. Not again.

Steve nods. Standing and pushing the chair back in place against the wall. “I’ll see you later then.”

Eddie waves Steve over and whispers something before letting him leave. Steve just snorts and smiles at whatever it is. Whispering something back before finally ushering Dustin out of the room. Some sort of weird energy radiating off of him in the car ride home. A mix between happy and sad that Dustin doesn’t understand.

“What was that about?” Dustin asks. Trying to do it without a confrontational tone.

Steve shrugs. “We just had something to talk about, that’s all.”

Dustin nods. “But you’re both ok, right? It looked like you were both about to cry.”

He’s trying to be gentle about the topic. Trying to calm the way he can ask about things. So it doesn’t sound like he’s pressuring his way into situations. That way people can feel like they can open up to him, and tell him what’s going on. Instead of just brushing it off and telling him it’s not his problem.

Because it was his problem. This was his friend. This was his family. He didn’t have siblings to fight through all of this with. He didn’t have parents who he could tell these things too. For the most part, it’s been Steve that he’s talked to about all this. It’s been Steve that he radioed in the middle of the night when he was so scared he couldn’t breathe. Or when he needed advice about school problems. Or anything.

Somewhere along the line, Steve became the sibling he fought through stuff with. That’s been a sure fact since he helped Dustin get ready for the Snowball. They were one of the mini units in the bigger organization.

It hurt when Steve hid things from him out of “protection”. Dustin didn’t need protecting, he needed transparency. He needed for Steve to know that Dustin’s here for him. Just as much as Steve’s there for Dustin. This was a two-way street.

“We were, kinda,” Steve says after a long break of silence.

“Are you ok?”

Steve puts the car in park, turning to Dustin with an almost relieved expression. “Yeah. I am.”

“Ok.” Dusting is choosing to trust that Steve would tell him if he wasn’t. “Just, if you start to feel not ok, you know you can talk to me about it. I’ll listen.”

“I know.”

There’s a knock at Dustin’s window. His mom waving hello with a gentle smile. Dustin knows why, he always knows why. It’s to invite Steve in to have dinner that he’ll refuse three times before giving in. He’s over there for dinner more nights that he would probably admit.

“Hi, Miss Henderson,” Steve says when he rolls down the window.

“Hello. I haven’t seen you in a while, Steve. Why don’t you come in for dinner?”

That’s a lie, she saw him two days ago when she returned a movie at Family Video.

Steve lets out a small huff, catching her on her lie. “I appreciate it, but I really should be heading home. I don’t want to bother you.”

“Oh, it’d be no bother at all. It’s the least I can do for all the time you drive Dustin around.”

Dustin rolls his eyes as Steve rolls out another excuse. His mother already coming up with a response that negates the excuse entirely. Steve takes a deep breath and turns the car off, accepting the dinner invitation.

He only refused twice this time. Steve is starting to be worn down.

They go inside and are almost immediately ushered to the table. Set with three places each with their favorite sodas. Because there wasn’t an option for Steve to not be here for dinner, and the three of them knew it. It was just in Steve’s nature to try and refuse.

Even though he knows that once Steve steps through the doors of the Henderson house, he never wants to leave it. It’s much smaller than his house, and a lot more cluttered. But that’s what makes it warm. Every time he walked into his house after an upside down event, with all of this clutter and décor surrounding him, he never felt more relief in his life. He was home.

Whenever he visits one of the other guys’ houses, that feeling is mirrored in its own way. That same feeling wasn’t there whenever he went to Steve’s house.

Dustin remembers the first time Steve ever let him come over. The house was pretty much what he was expecting. High ceilings and fancy flourishes. A room full of furniture no one was allowed to sit on and carpets that couldn’t be walked on with shoes. But there was something wrong with it. The house was only a home when Steve was in it.

Without Steve, it would feel like no one lived there. The walls only had a few pictures on them, and there were more shut doors than open ones. The kitchen sink only ever had a few dishes in it, and the couch only had one cushion with a permanent dent. The whole of it felt so empty.

The worst part was that Steve knew it to. It was a nice place to throw get togethers. It was nice to look at and imagine living there. But Dustin felt the pull from Steve to stay anywhere else for just a second longer. So he didn’t have to go to a place that didn’t feel like home to him.

It’s part of the reason that his mom invites him over to dinner so much. When Dustin told her about how empty his house was, they decided to build Steve a place in theirs. They didn’t have a lot of space, but it was easy for them to make it feel like there was more. For Steve to have his own coat hook when he came over, and a place to put his shoes. A chair at the table that was always his, and his own blanket when they had movie nights.

Dustin wanted Steve to know that this could be his home if he needed it to be. And he knows that it worked. He can see it in the way that Steve relaxes every time he walks through the door. How he is nothing but himself when he’s here.

But eventually he has to leave and go home. He hugs Claudia goodbye and tries to refuse the container of leftovers shoved into his hands. Even though Dustin knows he’s grateful for it. Steve says goodbye to Dustin with a brief hug and a ruffle to his curls. And then he leaves.

Dustin wishes he didn’t have to.

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