#ghostly stalkers

[flamingpudding]

How to human

Nightwing was sure he was being watched. He had been in the hero business long enough to recognize that feeling. The little irk, whisper in the back of your mind and the little hairs standing up. He was being watched. A part of him felt honored. He had gotten a little stalker like Tim had been to Bruce once. So, on some days, he made sure to do some extra flips and air acrobatics. No, he wasn't showing off to watchfull eyes, shut up little wing. But whenever he turned to the direction he felt eyes on him, he found nothing. He was worried that he was getting as paranoid as Bruce, but at the same time, he swore that someone had started watching him during his patrols, especially whenever he was in Gotham.

Red Hood grew more and more frustrated as the days passed. This wasn't his first time dealing with little stalker but usually, the street kids of crime alley knew when and when not to follow him around. The kid that was currently following him? The little shit was reckless af. Red Hood going to bust a drug deal? He felt that freaking kids eyes on him. Getting into a fight that ends with a shot out? That little shit was still there watching instead of leaving. But the kid was good, Hood had to admit that. Whenever he turned to scowl the little shit, they were gone. They avoided him the moment he puts his attention on them. But just the kid wait, he will get them one of these days. He was not having as much fun as his brother with his little stalker.

Spoiler preened at the attention she was getting. She had a little stalker! Not Red, not Orphan, not Signal, not Robin but her! She had a stalker of her own. Like Nightwing and Red Hood! There was a little kid interested in her and following her around during patrols. She probably shouldn't, but she did end up teasing the other about it. It most likely wasn't good either, considering all the things that could happen during their patrols. But aside from that it was an interesting feeling to have a little shadow that somehow can avade you. Just like Nightwing and Red Hood whenever she turned around or tried to actively look for her little stalker there was no one. But she knew the kid was there. Compared to the idiot boys Spoiler had gotten some cookies from Agent A to lure out her little shadow. Saddly the kid had been a no show but they did take the cookies when she had looked away for a moment. And a giggle told her that they liked them. She was at least making process in getting to k ow her stalker.

Danny, Dan and Ellie, after decades of having lived among ghosts in the ghost zone when realizing they didn't age like their human family, ended up spit back out to the mortal realm. (Clockwork had gotten fessed up with the Phantom trio and decided HE needed a vacation from them and Frostbite mentioned sending them to the morals would be good for their halfa health. So the decision was made pretty quickly, let the humans deal withvthe ghost kids for a while. He will force the trenchcoat magican, that liked to poke around too much, to check up on them sometimes.) The problem was, they kind of forgot how to be human. So what did they do? Follow around the one human that caught their attention and learn how to human again from them. To bad that the humans that caught their attention happened to be vigilantes and they only ever seemed to be the most interesting when they dress up at night.

[aimarskloset]

Ghostly Gazette #3

[thebubblesareevil]

Amity park got lost

So there are plenty of aus and crossovers where Danny falls into a portal or gets sent to another world, but what if it wasn’t just him?

So amity park got sucked into the ghost zone, right?

Who’s to say it went back to the right earth afterwards?

So nobody notices at first, a few tourists come through, thoroughly confused because they never noticed this town before.

They laugh it off and go on with their days

Then weird things start to happen.

Suddenly there is an influx of ghostly activity around the Midwest and Constantine goes to investigate and finds an entire town…a town that seems to be incredibly independent and has absolutely no knowledge of the Justice league

Constantine decided then and there that he wasn’t druck enough for this shit and left

All well and good until Batman stumbles across the strange town a few years later and discovers a boy that looks identical to his dead son Jason.

(This didn’t start out as Danny is Jason from another world but why not)

Danny does NOT appreciate a second billionaire stalker, especially when the guys kids start joining in.

They show up at random times and days until another guy throws his hat in the ring

Some asshole with a red helmet that keeps accusing him of being a clone has tried to kill him at least 5 times that week.

Danny just wants to fill out college applications in peace, despite the fact that no one seems to recognize any of the college names that pop up when he googled engineering schools.

[kathaelipwse]

Styled For Love || K.Soonyoung {Hoshi}

Pairing: Idol!Hoshi x Stylist!Reader

Warnings: Angst | Miscommunication | Insecurity | Swearing | Fluff | Teasing | Drunken Confession | Public Relationship Reveal | NO PROOF READING WAS DONE

Trope: Second Chance Romance | Slow Burn | Ex-Crush to Lovers

Word count: 9649 words ; Reading time: 35 mins-ish

Synopsis: Back in university, you loved Hoshi—even when he pushed you away. Seven years later, fate throws you back into his life as SEVENTEEN’s personal stylist. Awkward stares, silent tension, and unsaid words define your new dynamic. But when old feelings resurface and a drunken confession changes everything, will you finally get the love you once fought for?

Author’s Note: This is peak second-chance romance with angst, teasing, and Hoshi being an awkward mess. If you love group chat chaos, flirty banter, and a soft but possessive Hoshi, this SMAU is for you. Let’s watch him fumble his way back into love. Enjoy the ride! - Opinions are also appreciated!!

Request's are open!!

The scent of old paper and the soft, almost ghostly hum of the university library always brought a strange sense of nostalgia, a bittersweet ache that settled deep in your chest, a phantom limb of a life left behind. You traced your fingers along the worn spine of a textbook, its pages filled with notes you’d taken, not for yourself, but for him. Outside, the cherry blossoms were in full bloom, a vibrant, almost mocking contrast to the gray sky that mirrored the dull ache in your heart.

Seven years. Seven years since you'd last walked these halls, since you'd last seen Kwon Soonyoung, now Hoshi, the boy whose laughter used to fill the class rooms, whose eyes crinkled into crescents when he smiled, the boy you loved with a quiet intensity that had never been reciprocated. The intensity of your feelings was a secret you kept locked away, a treasure and a burden all at once.

You remembered the way he'd always been surrounded by friends, his energy infectious, his passion for dance burning like a flame, drawing everyone into its warmth. You remembered the late nights in the practice room, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his sweat-soaked shirt clung to his lean frame, emphasizing the dedication he poured into every movement. You remembered the way his laughter would echo through the empty halls, a sound you cherished, even from a distance.

And you remembered the way you'd always been on the periphery, a silent observer, a distant admirer. You'd left vitamin drinks in his locker, slipped him meticulously detailed notes when he missed lectures, brought him extra snacks during late rehearsals, knowing he’d often forget to eat. You'd cared for him from afar, a silent guardian, your heart aching with unspoken words, with the weight of a confession you never dared to make.

The weight of those unspoken words grew heavier with each passing day. You knew he was burdened with the pressure of idol training, the relentless schedule, the expectations that seemed to crush him under their weight. You wanted to ease his burden, to be a source of comfort, but you were trapped in the silent role you’d created for yourself.

But your quiet devotion hadn't gone unnoticed. The whispers started, sharp and cruel, like shards of glass, each word cutting deeper than any physical wound. "Clingy," they'd called you, the word laced with disdain. "Chasing after a future idol," they’d sneered, as if your affection was a calculated move, a desperate attempt to ride his coattails to fame. The rumors spread like wildfire, painting you as a pathetic, lovesick girl, a stalker in their eyes.

You remember the way you’d flinched when you passed groups of students, their eyes following you, their whispers a constant, stinging reminder of your perceived transgression. You remember the way you’d avoided the cafeteria, the library, any place where you might encounter him, or worse, his friends, who now regarded you with a mixture of pity and contempt.

The rumors became a monster, twisting your quiet affection into something ugly and obsessive. They painted you as a leech, a parasite clinging to his rising star, draining his energy, his focus. They whispered about your “desperate attempts” to get his attention, your “pathetic displays” of affection. You heard them call you a distraction, a burden, a stain on his reputation.

You remember the way your hands trembled when you tried to write, the way your voice caught in your throat when you tried to speak. You remember the way you’d retreated into yourself, becoming a ghost in the very place you’d once felt a sense of belonging. The library, once a sanctuary, became a place of torment, the silence amplifying the whispers in your head.

And then, the day he'd finally noticed you, it wasn't the way you'd imagined in your countless daydreams. It was a cold, harsh dismissal, his eyes devoid of the warmth you'd always seen, replaced by a cold, distant look that chilled you to the bone.

"Stop following me around," he'd said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, each word a precise, calculated blow. "I don't need you to take care of me."

The words had shattered you, each syllable a blow to your already fragile heart. It was the final, brutal confirmation of everything the rumors had whispered. You’d refused to cry, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing your pain, of validating their cruel narratives. Instead, you'd turned and walked away, your steps echoing in the empty hallway, your heart a heavy, leaden weight, a stone sinking to the bottom of a dark, cold sea.

--

After graduation, you'd vanished from his life, leaving behind the university, the memories, and the boy who had broken you. You'd thrown yourself into your work, channeling your pain into ambition, carving a name for yourself in the cutthroat world of fashion and styling, building a wall of professionalism around your wounded heart. You vowed to never be that vulnerable, that exposed, that broken again. You built a new you, one that wouldn’t let anyone see the scars. You built a you that would never let anyone hurt you like that again.

--

The backstage area of the music show, usually a vibrant hive of activity, seemed to hold its breath as you stepped into SEVENTEEN's dressing room. The air crackled with a tension that was almost tangible, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken history that permeated the space. The usual cacophony of hairspray, chatter, and music faded into a dull hum, replaced by the sharp, almost painful awareness of your presence.

"SEVENTEEN's new stylist? You're kidding me," Mingyu's voice cut through the silence, a mix of disbelief and intrigue. He leaned against a rack of clothing, his eyes wide as he watched you move with a practiced grace, adjusting the drape of a silk scarf on a mannequin. "Wait, it's really you?"

You didn't break your concentration, your fingers meticulously straightening the fabric. "It's just another job," you repeated, your voice cool and measured, a carefully constructed barrier against the storm raging within you. "Professionalism is key."

But the lie hung heavy in the air, a fragile shield against the memories that threatened to overwhelm you. It wasn't just another job. It was a confrontation with the past, a forced encounter with the man who had shattered your heart, the ghost you'd tried so desperately to bury.

The door swung open, and he stood there, Kwon Soonyoung, now Hoshi, the idol whose name echoed through stadiums, whose face graced magazine covers. His eyes, once filled with warmth and laughter, now held a flicker of shock, a moment of disbelief that quickly morphed into a searching intensity.

"You…?" he breathed, his voice barely a whisper, a stark contrast to the powerful vocals he commanded on stage. The single word hung in the air, laden with unspoken questions, with the weight of years of unresolved emotions.

"Mingyu-hyung, you guys know each other?" Seungkwan piped up, his eyes darting between you and Hoshi, his curiosity piqued. "From where? University? That’s wild."

The silence that followed was thick and heavy, the air thrumming with unspoken words. The members exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions a mix of confusion and intrigue. They sensed the undercurrent of tension, the unspoken history that lingered beneath the surface, a silent narrative that played out between you and Hoshi.

You broke the silence, your voice cool and professional, a shield against the rising tide of memories. "We went to university together," you stated, your voice devoid of any emotion.

"Ah," Mingyu said, his eyes filled with curiosity, a hint of understanding dawning on him. "That's… interesting." He looked at Hoshi, then back at you, his eyes searching for answers, for the missing pieces of a puzzle he couldn't quite comprehend.

Hoshi stared at you, his eyes searching yours, trying to find a flicker of recognition, a hint of the girl he'd known. But you were different now, a polished professional, a far cry from the shy, lovesick girl he'd pushed away. You were a fortress, your emotions locked away behind a wall of carefully constructed professionalism.

You moved through the room, your movements precise and efficient, your focus solely on the task at hand. You laughed at DK's jokes, your laughter light and genuine, a stark contrast to the coldness you showed Hoshi. You teased Seungkwan about his vocal range, praising his talent while playfully mocking his dramatic flair. You complimented Jeonghan's ethereal beauty, your words sincere and appreciative. But when Hoshi spoke, you treated him with the same detached professionalism you showed any other client, your eyes cool, your voice measured.

"The concept for your stage today is a mix of urban chic and edgy rebellion," you explained, your voice devoid of any personal inflection. "The ripped jeans, the leather jacket, it's all about conveying a sense of youthful defiance, a raw energy."

Hoshi watched you, his eyes searching yours, trying to find a flicker of the girl he’d known, a hint of the warmth that had once filled your eyes. But you gave him nothing, your expression a mask of professional detachment, your eyes distant.

He wanted to talk, to bridge the gap, to understand the coldness in your eyes. He wanted to apologize, to explain, to make amends for the pain he'd caused. But you gave him no opening, your focus solely on the task at hand. You were a ghost, a professional ghost, and he couldn't reach you.

"Is the jacket too tight?" you asked, your voice sharp, pulling him back to the present, back to the cold reality of your professional interaction.

"No, it's fine," he replied, his voice flat, his eyes still searching yours, searching for a connection that seemed to have vanished.

"Good," you said, your voice dismissive. "Then let's move on to the accessories. The chains, the rings, they're all about adding an edge, a rebellious touch."

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. The members watched you both, their eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern. They sensed the tension, the unspoken history, the pain that lingered beneath the surface, a silent testament to a past that refused to stay buried.

"This is going to be… interesting," Seungkwan whispered to Mingyu, his eyes wide with intrigue.

Mingyu nodded, his expression serious. "Yeah. I think we're in for a wild ride. And I have a feeling it’s going to be a bumpy one." He looked at Hoshi, then back at you, a silent question hanging in the air. How were they going to get through this?

The styling sessions, once a collaborative effort, had devolved into a tense battleground. You wielded your artistic vision like a weapon, pushing Hoshi beyond his comfort zone with every daring fabric, every unconventional silhouette. The result was visually arresting, a testament to your talent, but it was also a calculated assault, a means of unsettling him, of forcing him to confront the ghosts of his past.

He found himself trapped in a suffocating vortex of self-doubt, obsessively scrutinizing every reflection, every perceived flaw. The pressure of maintaining his idol persona, the constant scrutiny, the relentless pursuit of perfection, had always been a heavy burden. But now, with you back in his life, the weight was crushing, suffocating, threatening to shatter him.

A staff member’s casual, almost dismissive comment about his proportions, a throwaway remark about his “less-than-ideal” physique, became a catalyst, igniting a firestorm of insecurity within him. It was a fleeting, insignificant comment, easily dismissed under normal circumstances. But in his current state of emotional vulnerability, it felt like a brutal indictment, a confirmation of his deepest fears, a validation of the lies he told himself.

He’d always prided himself on his stage presence, his charisma, his ability to command attention. But now, doubt whispered insidious lies, painting him as inadequate, as undeserving of your attention, of your affection. He found himself staring at his reflection, his eyes tracing the lines of his body, searching for imperfections, for the flaws that seemed to confirm his worst fears, the ones that whispered he wasn’t good enough.

"If you don't appreciate his stage presence, maybe you should find another job," your voice cut through the tension, sharp and unwavering, like a blade slicing through silk. It was a fierce defense, an instinctive reaction to the staff member’s callous remark, a protective shield against the cruelty of the world.

Hoshi stared at you, his heart pounding in his chest, a chaotic mix of surprise and confusion warring within him. He was caught off guard by the raw intensity in your eyes, by the unwavering conviction in your voice. He wanted to thank you, to acknowledge the unexpected kindness, but the words caught in his throat, choked by a surge of conflicting emotions, a battle within himself.

He was overwhelmed by a sense of guilt, of regret, of the realization that he didn’t deserve your defense, your kindness. He was haunted by the memory of his past cruelty, the cold, harsh words that had shattered your heart, the pain he had inflicted, the wounds he’d never tried to heal.

And then, a wave of anger washed over him, a desperate, almost primal need to push you away, to protect himself from the vulnerability of your proximity. He couldn’t bear the thought of your compassion, of your caring, when he knew he didn’t deserve it, when he was still haunted by the ghosts of his mistakes.

"You don’t have to pretend to care about me anymore," he snapped, his voice laced with bitterness, with a desperate attempt to mask his vulnerability. "You’ve done your job. Now leave me alone. I don’t need your pity, or your misplaced kindness."

"Pity?" You echoed, your voice dangerously low, your eyes flashing with anger. "Don’t flatter yourself, Kwon Soonyoung. I don’t waste my pity on those who don’t deserve it. You’re not worth my pity, you’re simply a job."

"Then what is this?" He demanded, his voice rising, his eyes blazing. "Why are you defending me? Why are you even here? Why defend me if I'm simply a job?"

"I’m here because I’m a professional," you retorted, your voice sharp, your eyes cold. "And I defend my clients, regardless of their… personal failings. And I'm here, because I'm good at my job. And you, are a client."

"Personal failings?" He repeated, his voice laced with sarcasm, with a bitter edge. "Is that what I am to you? A personal failing? A job? Nothing more?"

"You made your choice," you stated, your voice flat, devoid of emotion, your eyes hard. "You decided to push me away. You decided to inflict pain. Don’t expect me to welcome you back with open arms, or any semblance of forgiveness."

"I was trying to protect you!" He yelled. "From the rumors, from the gossip, from the pressure!"

"Protect me?" You laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. "You protected your image, your career. You protected yourself. You didn't protect me."

He stormed off, his steps heavy with regret, his heart aching with a pain he couldn’t comprehend. He left you standing there, your expression unreadable, your eyes filled with a mixture of anger and hurt, a silent testament to the damage he’d inflicted.

The members exchanged worried glances, their expressions filled with apologies, with silent pleas for understanding. They knew the demons that haunted Hoshi, the internal conflict that raged within him.

"Hyung can be a bit… difficult," Mingyu said, his voice apologetic, his eyes filled with concern. "He's just… going through a lot right now. He's a mess."

"He doesn't mean it," joshua added, his voice soft, his eyes filled with sympathy. "He's just… scared. He's afraid of losing you again, or more accurately, admitting he never had you at all."

"He already lost me," you stated, your voice cold, your eyes hard. "And he has no one to blame but himself. He made his choice, and now, he has to live with the consequences."

You retreated into your work, focusing on the details of the styling, the colors, the textures, the shapes. You moved with a mechanical precision, your movements devoid of any emotion, your mind a blank slate.

But the silence in the dressing room was heavy, filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. The members watched you, their eyes filled with concern, their silence a testament to the tension that permeated the space. They knew that the fragile peace had been shattered, that the delicate balance between you and Hoshi had been irrevocably disrupted. They knew that the road ahead would be fraught with pain, with conflict, with the daunting task of mending broken hearts, if such a thing was even possible. And they knew, that the next move, would determine if there was any hope left.

The soundproofed walls of Woozi's studio, typically a haven of creative expression, now held the weight of Hoshi's raw vulnerability, his voice a broken melody of regret and longing. The air was thick with the unspoken emotions that had festered for years, a silent testament to the pain and longing that had consumed him. Woozi, usually a master of understated expressions, had transformed into a stern confidant, his eyes a piercing gaze that demanded absolute honesty, his silence a heavy presence.

"What the hell was that, Soonyoung?" Woozi's voice, typically a soft, melodic hum, now resonated with a low, dangerous rumble, each word a precise, cutting edge that sliced through the suffocating tension. He leaned against the mixing console, arms crossed, his posture rigid, his gaze unwavering, a silent accusation that demanded a confession. "You’re making a spectacular, catastrophic mess of everything, including yourself. You’re unraveling at the seams, a tangled mess of regret and fear."

Hoshi slumped into a worn-out studio chair, his head buried in his hands, his body language a testament to his utter defeat, his posture a reflection of the emotional wreckage within him, a broken puppet with severed strings. "I don’t know, Jihoon. I just… I messed up. Again. And this time, I don't know how to fix it. I'm afraid I've irrevocably shattered any chance I had, any hope of redemption, any possibility of forgiveness."

"Messed up?" Woozi scoffed, a hint of exasperation lacing his voice, his eyes filled with a mixture of disappointment and concern, a silent lament. "You’re acting like a petulant child, throwing a tantrum when you should be trying to salvage what’s left. You’re pushing her away when you should be pulling her close, begging her to stay, to understand, to forgive."

"It's not that simple," Hoshi mumbled, his voice muffled by his hands, his words a desperate attempt to justify his actions, a plea for understanding. "You don't understand the pressure, the fear… the sheer, crippling terror of messing up again, of causing her more pain, of shattering her again."

"Then make me understand," Woozi retorted, his patience wearing thin, his voice laced with a sharp edge, his eyes demanding clarity, a silent challenge. "You liked her, didn't you? Back then? Or, dare I say�� loved? Because there's a world of difference between the two, a chasm of regret and unspoken words."

Hoshi hesitated, his throat tight with unspoken emotions, with the weight of years of regret and the burden of unrequited love. He finally nodded, his voice barely a whisper, a confession he’d kept locked away for too long, a secret that had festered in the shadows of his heart. "I did. I liked her a lot. More than a lot. I loved her, Jihoon. I still do. I always have. And I never stopped."

"Loved?" Woozi raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical, his eyes searching Hoshi's for the truth, for the raw vulnerability he rarely displayed, for the genuine emotion that lay beneath the layers of regret and fear. "Then why, Soonyoung, why did you push her away? Why did you break her heart into a million pieces?"

Hoshi's face flushed crimson, a wave of shame washing over him, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and a raw vulnerability he rarely allowed anyone to see, a silent testament to his internal battle. He looked away, his gaze fixed on the worn carpet, his voice barely audible, a confession whispered in the darkness. "I… I don't know. It doesn't matter now. I ruined everything. I was so scared. So incredibly, pathetically scared. I was a coward."

"It matters to her," Woozi said, his voice softer now, but no less intense, each word a carefully placed stone in a bridge he was trying to build, a silent plea for understanding. "It matters to you. And it matters to me, because you're my friend, and you’re slowly destroying yourself with your self-inflicted guilt. Tell me, Soonyoung, why her? What made her so special, so unforgettable?"

Hoshi took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly, his eyes filled with a distant longing, a bittersweet nostalgia, a silent journey into the past. "It was… everything. Her kindness, her quiet strength, the way she cared for everyone around her without expecting anything in return. Even when people whispered, even when they were cruel, she never changed. She was always… pure. And she was so talented, so driven. Even then, she was a force, a beacon of light in the darkness. And she saw me, Jihoon. She saw the real me, the insecure kid beneath the stage persona. She understood me, even when I didn’t understand myself. And she was beautiful, inside and out. The way she smiled, the way she laughed… it was like sunshine, chasing away the shadows of my doubts."

He paused, his eyes filled with a distant longing, his voice thick with emotion, a silent lament for a love lost. "And even when I was an idiot, even when I pushed her away, she never stopped caring. I knew she wouldn’t. And that… that just made it worse. I felt like I didn’t deserve her. I felt like I was tarnishing her light, dragging her into my darkness."

"I wanted to be with her," Hoshi confessed, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes filled with a desperate plea for understanding, a silent cry for forgiveness. "But I couldn't. The pressure, the rumors, the constant scrutiny… I didn't want to ruin her life. I was scared of what it would do to her. I was scared of ruining her, of dragging her into my chaotic world, of extinguishing her light."

"And instead, you broke her heart into pieces," Woozi finished, his voice filled with a quiet understanding, a hint of disappointment, a silent lament for a love lost. "You thought you were protecting her, but you only caused her more pain. You made a choice, and it was the wrong one. A cowardly one, driven by fear, fueled by regret."

Hoshi nodded, his eyes filled with a deep, consuming regret, a self-loathing that gnawed at his soul, a silent admission of his failure, a heavy burden of guilt. "The worst part?" he said, his voice thick with self-loathing, his words a confession of his deepest shame, a desperate plea for absolution. "I knew she'd never stop caring. I knew she'd always be there for me, no matter what. And I still pushed her away. I still hurt her, even when I knew she didn't deserve it. I was a fool, a coward, a monster."

"You still have a chance, idiot," Woozi said, his eyes filled with a rare intensity, a flicker of hope igniting within him, a silent promise of support, a quiet command. "Just tell her the truth. Tell her how you feel. Tell her why you did what you did. Carats will support you. We will support you. And she… she might too, if you give her a reason to. If you show her you’ve changed, if you show her you’re worthy."

Hoshi shook his head, his voice filled with despair, his eyes filled with the ghosts of his past mistakes, a silent acknowledgment of his unworthiness, a broken plea for a chance. "It's too late. I ruined everything. I don't deserve her forgiveness. I'm a mess. A coward. A broken mess, beyond repair."

"It's never too late to try," Woozi countered, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument, his eyes filled with a quiet determination, a silent command, a resolute belief. "But you have to be honest. You have to be vulnerable. You have to admit your mistakes, and you have to mean it. You have to show her that you are worthy of her love, that you are worthy of a second chance, that you are not the same man you were then."

"I don't know how," Hoshi confessed, his voice filled with a raw vulnerability that Woozi rarely saw, a desperate plea for guidance, a broken cry for help, a silent acknowledgment of his fear. "I'm afraid of hurting her again. I'm afraid she'll never forgive me. I'm afraid I'll just make things worse, that I’ll only push her further away."

"Then show her you've changed," Woozi said, his voice soft but firm, his eyes filled with a quiet determination, a silent promise of support, a resolute command. "Show her you’re not the same person who pushed her away. Actions speak louder than words, and you have a lot to make up for. You loved her, Soonyoung. Now fight for her. Fight for your second chance. Fight for the love you threw away."

A long silence stretched between them, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging heavy in the air. Hoshi stared at his hands, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, a battleground of regret and fear, a silent war within himself. He wanted to reach out to you, to mend the broken pieces of their past, but he was paralyzed by fear, by the fear of rejection, by the fear of causing you more pain.

"I don't know what to do," he whispered, his voice filled with a desperate plea for guidance, a broken cry for a chance at redemption, a silent plea for a miracle.

"You need to talk to her," Woozi said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument, his eyes filled with a quiet resolve, a silent command, a determined belief. "You need to tell her the truth. And you need to apologize. Properly. Not some half-hearted attempt, but a genuine, heartfelt apology, a confession from the depths of your soul. And you have to tell her why you love her, Soonyoung. You need to let her know she was never just a rumor, never just a burden. You need to tell her she was everything, that you were the blind one, that she was the light you extinguished."

Meanwhile, in the adjacent room, SEVENTEEN were engaged in a chaotic planning session, their voices a mix of mischievous excitement and nervous anticipation, their expressions a blend of playful determination and genuine concern. They had witnessed the tension, the hurt, and decided that drastic measures were required, that they needed to intervene, to orchestrate a moment of truth.

"We need to lock them in a room," Mingyu declared, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint, his voice filled with a conspiratorial whisper, his expression a picture of determined chaos, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Are you crazy?" vernon exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief, his voice rising in alarm, his expression a mix of horror and amusement, a dramatic gasp. "That’s a terrible idea! What if they kill each other? Or worse, us? What if they unleash their wrath upon us?"

"It's a terrible idea that just might work," Jeonghan countered, a sly smile playing on his lips, his eyes filled with a mischievous glint, his voice laced with a playful edge, a knowing smirk.

"They need to talk, and we need to ensure they do. A little forced intimacy never hurt anyone. Besides, we’re doing them a favor, a service to true love." cheol added seeing han's smirk.

"But what if it makes things worse?" seokmin asked, his voice filled with concern, his eyes wide with anxiety, his expression a picture of pure worry, a silent plea for reason. "What if they hate us? What if they never speak to us again? What if they hold us responsible for their misery?"

"Then we'll deal with it," shua said, his voice firm, his eyes filled with a quiet resolve, his expression a picture of unwavering determination, a silent promise to shoulder the consequences. "But we have to try. They deserve a second chance, and we’re going to make sure they get it, whether they like it or not. We’re SEVENTEEN, and we fix our family, even if it means causing a little chaos along the way."

And so, the plan was set. They would lure you and Hoshi into the dressing room, lock the door, and force them to confront their past. It was a risky move, a gamble that could either mend broken hearts or shatter them completely. But they were willing to take that risk, for the sake of their friend, for the sake of a love that deserved a second chance, for the hope that maybe, just maybe, they could fix what was broken, and bring them back together, like pieces of a shattered mirror, reflecting a love that refused to die.

The dressing room, typically a chaotic haven of creativity and bustling activity, now stood as a silent stage, the air thick with unspoken emotions and the weight of years of regret. You stepped inside, your brow furrowed in confusion, your eyes scanning the room for the supposed "meeting" Mingyu had arranged, a meeting that felt more like an ambush. Hoshi stood near the far wall, his posture rigid, his eyes filled with a nervous intensity that sent a shiver down your spine, a silent plea for understanding, a desperate hope for forgiveness.

"Mingyu said there was a meeting?" you asked, your voice sharp, cutting through the tense silence like a finely honed blade. "Something about a new concept?"

Before Hoshi could respond, the door slammed shut with a resounding thud, the lock clicking into place with an ominous finality. You turned, your eyes widening in disbelief as you realized you were trapped, a pawn in SEVENTEEN's elaborate, and arguably insane, game.

"Mingyu. Mingyu, OPEN THIS DOOR," Hoshi yelled, his voice laced with a desperate urgency, his hands rattling the doorknob with a frantic energy, a silent cry for release. "This isn't funny! You guys are going to regret this! Seriously, open the door!"

"What the hell is this?" you demanded, your voice rising in anger, your eyes flashing with a mixture of confusion and frustration, a silent accusation. "What are you two playing at? Is this some kind of twisted joke? Because if it is, it's not funny."

Hoshi turned to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of apology and desperation, a silent plea for understanding, a desperate attempt to explain. "They locked us in. I don't know why. I swear I had nothing to do with this. I was as surprised as you are."

You crossed your arms, your expression hardening, your eyes narrowed with suspicion, a silent challenge. "They better have a damn good reason. Or I'm going to make them regret they were ever born. I'm going to make sure they learn the meaning of 'prank gone wrong'."

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions, a silent battleground of regret and longing. You avoided Hoshi's gaze, your eyes fixed on the locked door, your mind racing with a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, a tempest of emotions. You were trapped, forced into a confrontation you weren't ready for, a forced reckoning with the past, a painful reminder of shattered dreams.

Hoshi shifted uncomfortably, his eyes searching yours, his expression filled with a raw vulnerability that made your heart ache, a silent plea for understanding, a desperate hope for forgiveness. He looked a mess, his hair disheveled, his sweatshirt oversized, his usual confident demeanor replaced by a nervous vulnerability, a broken mask. He looked like the boy you'd known in university, the boy you had loved, the boy who had broken your heart into a million pieces.

"I… I need to talk to you," he said, his voice barely a whisper, a plea for understanding, a silent confession of his deepest regrets.

"Talk?" you scoffed, your voice laced with sarcasm, your eyes filled with a cold anger, a silent accusation. "Now you want to talk? After seven years of silence? After you shattered me into a million pieces and left me to pick them up myself?"

"I know I messed up," he said, his voice thick with regret, his eyes filled with a desperate plea for forgiveness, a silent cry for absolution. "I know I hurt you. And I'm so sorry. More than you can ever know. More than I can ever express."

"Sorry?" you repeated, your voice laced with bitterness, your eyes filled with a cold anger, a silent accusation of his cruelty. "Sorry doesn't fix anything, Soonyoung. It doesn't erase the pain, the years of emptiness, the nights I spent crying myself to sleep."

"I know," he said, his voice barely audible, his eyes filled with a deep, consuming regret, a silent acknowledgment of his failure, a desperate plea for understanding. "But I need you to understand. I need you to know why I did what I did, why I was such a coward, why I made such a terrible mistake."

He took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly, his eyes filled with a raw vulnerability that made your heart ache, a silent confession of his deepest fears. "I was scared," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper, a broken plea for understanding. "I was scared of ruining your life. I was scared of the rumors, of the gossip, of the pressure. I was scared of what it would do to you, of what it would turn you into. I was terrified of dragging you into my chaotic world."

"So you decided to break me instead?" you retorted, your voice sharp, your eyes filled with a cold anger, a silent accusation of his cruelty. "That was your way of protecting me? By destroying me, by erasing me from your life?"

"No," he said, his voice thick with regret, his eyes filled with a desperate plea for understanding, a silent confession of his cowardice. "That was my way of being a coward. I was selfish. I was weak. I was afraid. I was a fool, a complete and utter fool."

He paused, his eyes searching yours, his expression filled with a raw vulnerability, a silent plea for forgiveness, a desperate hope for redemption. "I loved you," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper, a secret he had kept locked away for years, a confession whispered in the darkness, a desperate plea for understanding. "I loved you then, and I love you now. And that's why I pushed you away. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was protecting you, but I was just protecting myself, my own selfish desires my own selfish needs and dreams."

"Protecting me?" you scoffed, your voice laced with disbelief, your eyes filled with a cold anger, a silent accusation of his betrayal. "You broke me, Hoshi. You shattered me into a million pieces. And now, after seven years, you expect me to believe you? That you loved me? That you still do?"

"I don't expect you to believe me," he said, his voice barely audible, his eyes filled with a deep, consuming regret, a silent acknowledgment of his guilt, a desperate plea for understanding. "I just need you to know the truth. I need you to know that I never stopped caring. I never stopped loving you. You were always in my heart, a constant reminder of my mistakes."

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions, a silent battleground of regret and longing. You stared at him, your eyes searching his, trying to decipher the truth in his words, trying to reconcile the past with the present. You wanted to believe him, to forgive him, but the pain of the past was a heavy weight, a constant reminder of his betrayal.

"You're so awkward," you said, your voice barely a whisper, a mix of anger and vulnerability, a silent acknowledgment of the lingering affection, a desperate attempt to break the tension. "How are you an idol? How do you command a stage with such… clumsiness?"

Hoshi's face flushed crimson, a flicker of surprise crossing his eyes, a silent confession of his vulnerability, a desperate attempt to hold onto his composure. "What?"

"You're blushing," you teased, a small smile playing on your lips, a hint of the playful banter that had once defined your relationship, a silent test of his sincerity. "Oh my god. You're a mess. A beautiful, awkward mess."

Hoshi's face flushed even deeper, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and amusement, a silent acknowledgment of your playful jab, a desperate attempt to regain his footing. "Stop it," he mumbled, his voice laced with a playful annoyance, a silent plea for seriousness, a desperate attempt to hide his vulnerability.

"…….Make me," you retorted, a playful glint in your eyes, a flicker of the old you, a silent challenge, a desperate attempt to find a way back to the past.

The tension in the room shifted, the heavy silence replaced by a fragile lightness, a hint of the connection you had once shared, a silent acknowledgment of the lingering spark. You were teasing him, challenging him, testing the waters, trying to gauge the sincerity of his words, trying to find a way back to the past, to a time before the pain.

Hoshi stepped closer, his eyes searching yours, his expression filled with a raw vulnerability, a silent plea for understanding, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap. "I'm serious," he said, his voice barely a whisper, his eyes filled with a desperate plea. "I love you. I always have. And I always will. And I'm so sorry."

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest, your emotions a whirlwind of conflicting feelings, a silent battle between hope and fear, a desperate attempt to find clarity. You wanted to believe him, to forgive him, to fall back into the comfort of his arms. But the pain of the past was a heavy weight, a constant reminder of his betrayal.

"I… I don't know what to say," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, your eyes filled with a mixture of hope and fear, a silent confession of your confusion, a desperate attempt to find the right words.

"You don't have to say anything," he said, his voice soft, his eyes filled with a gentle tenderness, a silent promise, a desperate hope for understanding. "Just listen. Let me explain. Let me show you."

He stepped closer, his hands reaching out to cup your face, his touch sending a shiver down your spine, a silent acknowledgment of the lingering connection, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap. "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness," he said, his voice barely audible, his eyes filled with a deep, consuming regret, a silent confession of his guilt, a desperate plea for redemption. "But I'm begging you, please give me a second chance. Please let me show you that I've changed. Please let me love you again, the way I always should have, the way you deserve."

You closed your eyes, your heart pounding in your chest, your emotions a chaotic mix of hope and fear, a silent battle between forgiveness and pain, a desperate attempt to find a way forward. You wanted to believe him, to forgive him, to fall back into the comfort of his arms. But the pain of the past was a heavy weight, a constant reminder of his betrayal.

"I… I love you too," you whispered, your voice barely audible, a confession you had kept locked away for years, a silent acknowledgment of your enduring love, a desperate hope for a future.

A soft smile spread across Hoshi's face, his eyes filled with a gentle tenderness, a flicker of hope igniting within him, a silent promise of redemption, a desperate attempt to hold onto the fragile hope. "Then please," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes filled with a desperate plea. "Please give me a second chance. Let me prove I’m worthy of you. Let me show you that I’m not the same man I was then."

You opened your eyes, your gaze meeting his, your heart filled with a mixture of hope and fear, a silent acknowledgment of the risk, a desperate attempt to find the courage to believe. You took a deep breath, your voice trembling slightly. "I… I don't know," you whispered, your voice barely audible, a silent confession of your vulnerability, a desperate plea for reassurance. "I'm scared. I'm still so scared of getting hurt again."

"I know," he said, his voice soft, his eyes filled with a gentle understanding, a silent promise of patience, a desperate attempt to soothe your fears. "But I promise, I won't hurt you again. I'll spend every day proving that I’m worthy of your love. I’ll cherish you. I’ll protect you. I’ll be the man you deserve."

You went on your tiptoes, your lips brushing against his forehead, a soft, gentle kiss that sealed your fate, a silent promise of a second chance, a desperate hope for a new beginning. "I love you more," you whispered, your voice barely audible, a confession of your enduring love, a silent hope for a future where the pain is replaced with healing.

The dressing room, once a space of tension and conflict, now held the fragile promise of a second chance, a testament to the enduring power of love, a silent hope for a new beginning. Outside, SEVENTEEN waited anxiously, their ears pressed against the door, their hearts pounding in anticipation, a silent prayer for a happy ending. They had taken a risk, a gamble that could have shattered everything. But they had also given their friend a chance, a chance to mend broken hearts, to rewrite the past, and to find love again, a chance to rewrite their story, to create a future where love triumphs over pain.

--

The past two years had been a masterclass in clandestine romance, a carefully choreographed dance of secrecy and affection, a delicate tightrope walk between their public personas and their private passions. They navigated the treacherous currents of fame and privacy with the stealth of seasoned spies, their love a precious, hidden treasure, known only to the trusted inner sanctum of SEVENTEEN and the ever-discreet staff, who often found themselves acting as unwitting accomplices in their romantic escapades. Every stolen glance across a crowded room, every whispered confession in a dimly lit corner, every clandestine date in the hushed stillness of the night felt like a thrilling act of rebellion against the omnipresent gaze of the world, a delicious defiance of the spotlight.

Dorm life, already a vibrant, chaotic symphony of laughter, mischief, and controlled pandemonium, became the stage for their secret romance, a playground for their intimate moments. Late-night cuddles under the comforting shroud of darkness, stolen kisses in empty practice rooms, the air thick with the lingering scent of sweat and unspoken desires, and whispered confessions amidst the cacophony of SEVENTEEN's antics became their cherished rituals, the secret language of their love, a silent dialogue spoken in stolen moments. You wore his oversized hoodies, the fabric imbued with his familiar scent, a comforting reminder of his presence, a tangible piece of his affection, a silent declaration of ownership. You "borrowed" his snacks, leaving playful, teasing notes in their place, a silent conversation of love and playful challenge, a battle of wits fought with chocolate and chips. He, in turn, left small, carefully chosen gifts on your desk, tokens of his unwavering devotion, a testament to his growing obsession, each gift a silent poem of his affection.

SEVENTEEN, the self-proclaimed guardians of their love, the mischievous Cupids, the chaotic architects of their romance, never missed an opportunity to tease Hoshi, their group chat a constant stream of hilarious commentary, ridiculous scenarios, and thinly veiled innuendos, a digital theater of their affection. Mingyu, the resident mischief-maker, the master of orchestrated chaos, orchestrated elaborate, hilariously awkward "accidental" encounters, while Seungkwan, the drama king of SEVENTEEN, the theatrical commentator of their love, provided a running commentary, complete with exaggerated sighs, melodramatic pronouncements, and theatrical gasps, a live-action soap opera. Jeonghan, the master of subtle manipulation, the puppet master of their romance, subtly nudged you and Hoshi together, his eyes always twinkling with amusement, his lips curved in a knowing smile, a silent conductor of their love story.

"Hyung, you're blushing harder than a tomato that just won a beauty contest and realized it forgot its acceptance speech," Mingyu would text, accompanied by a close-up picture of Hoshi's flushed face, his eyes wide with barely concealed affection, his cheeks burning crimson.

"When's the wedding? I'm free on Tuesday. I'll bring the rice cakes, the doves, and the emotional support," Seungkwan would add, followed by a string of laughing emojis, his words dripping with playful sarcasm, his tone a theatrical pronouncement.

"Just admit it, Soonyoung-ah, you're whipped. Utterly, completely, and irrevocably whipped. And we love to see it," Jeonghan would chime in, his words laced with playful affection, his eyes sparkling with amusement, his tone a gentle ribbing. "It’s your aesthetic now."

Hoshi, despite his valiant attempts to maintain a facade of composure, a mask of idol cool, couldn't hide his adoration, his growing worship of you, his every action a testament to his devotion. His eyes would soften, his gaze lingering whenever you were near, his laughter would become a gentle melody, a soft symphony of love, and his touch would linger a moment too long, a silent plea for more, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between their private and public lives. He was a man utterly consumed by love, a fact that both amused and delighted his bandmates, a testament to the power of your love, a love that burned brighter than any stage light.

Then came the infamous drunken live broadcast, a chaotic, hilarious event that would forever be etched in SEVENTEEN's lore, a legendary night of drunken confessions and unbridled chaos, a moment of pure, unfiltered Hoshi. Celebrating a hard-won award, the members, fueled by celebratory drinks and high spirits, decided to go live, their laughter echoing through the dorm, their energy infectious, their inhibitions lowered.

"I wanna get married in my 30s," Hoshi slurred, his eyes glazed with alcohol and adoration, his words a drunken confession, a testament to his deepest desires, a public declaration of his love. "I already found the love of my life. She's my best choice. My absolute best. The most amazing woman in the world. A goddess among women. A queen among mortals."

The chat exploded, a digital firestorm of shocked and excited comments, a tsunami of disbelief, curiosity, and playful teasing, a chaotic symphony of online reactions.

[50,000+ viewers] "WAIT WHAT?"

"WHO IS SHE?! SPILL THE TEA!"

"OH MY GOD HE EXPOSED HIMSELF. GET THE RING READY. AND THE DIVORCE PAPERS, JUST IN CASE."

"Hoshi-hyung, are you okay? Need some water? Or maybe a reality check? Or a therapist?" Mingyu asked, his eyes wide with mock concern, a mischievous glint in their depths, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm, his tone a theatrical performance.

"Never been better," Hoshi declared, his voice slurred but filled with drunken confidence, his eyes filled with a drunken adoration, his words a testament to his unwavering love. "She's perfect. Absolutely perfect. A goddess among women. I don't deserve her. I worship the ground she walks on. She's my universe."

The members exchanged amused glances, their expressions a mix of amusement, disbelief, and a touch of genuine affection, a silent acknowledgment of his unwavering devotion. They knew Hoshi's affection for you ran deep, a love that burned brighter than any stage light, but they hadn't expected him to reveal it to the world in such a spectacular, hilariously chaotic fashion, a drunken masterpiece of confession.

The next morning, Hoshi woke up with a pounding headache, a dry mouth, and a sinking feeling in his stomach, a potent cocktail of regret and embarrassment, a hangover of epic proportions. He vaguely remembered the live broadcast, the laughter, the drinks, but the details were hazy, shrouded in a fog of alcohol-induced amnesia, a blurry montage of drunken declarations.

"Hyung… you kinda… announced your relationship. To the entire world. And called her a goddess. And a queen. And your universe," Mingyu said, his voice laced with amusement, his eyes twinkling with mischief, his grin wide and devilish, his tone a playful accusation.

Hoshi's eyes widened in horror, his face draining of all color, his skin turning a shade of pale that rivaled the moon. "What? No, I didn't. I wouldn't… I'm a professional, I know better. I have self control."

"Oh, but you did," Seungkwan chimed in, holding up his phone, the screen displaying a clip of Hoshi's drunken, yet surprisingly eloquent, confession, a digital testament to his love. "And it's glorious. The stuff of legends. You even serenaded her with a half-remembered ballad, hyung. It was… something."

You walked into the room, a mischievous glint in your eyes, a playful smile playing on your lips, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm, your tone a theatrical challenge. "So when's the wedding? I want kids by the way. And I'm free this weekend. My schedule is wide open for a honeymoon. Preferably somewhere with a beach. Or an island. Or both."

Hoshi's face flushed crimson, a wave of panic washing over him, a desperate attempt to regain his composure. He stammered, his words a jumbled mess of apologies, denials, and desperate pleas for forgiveness, a chaotic symphony of incoherent sounds. "I… I didn't mean to… I was drunk… I'm sorry. Please don't hate me."

He pinned you down on the couch, his voice a low, husky murmur in your ear, a mix of playful threats, whispered apologies, and a hint of possessiveness, a desperate attempt to regain control. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? You're going to pay for this. I'm going to make you regret every single teasing word. I'm going to worship you until you forget your own name."

Then, as quickly as the storm had arrived, he transformed into a cuddly tiger cub, burying his face in your neck, his voice a soft murmur, a desperate plea for reassurance, a silent cry for forgiveness. "Just… don't leave me. Please. I was just being honest. Drunk, but honest. And really, really in love."

"??? HOW DID WE GET HERE," you thought, laughing, a mixture of amusement and affection swirling within you, a chaotic blend of love and exasperation, a silent acknowledgment of his adorable madness. "He's such a mess. But he's my mess. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

The aftermath of Hoshi's drunken confession was a whirlwind of chaos and amusement, a digital circus of reactions, a chaotic symphony of online chatter. The hashtag #HoshiDatingScandal trended on Twitter, a chaotic mix of shocked reactions, supportive messages, hilarious memes, and even a few marriage proposals, a digital testament to his popularity. The members, true to their chaotic nature, fueled the fire, posting cryptic tweets, teasing Hoshi relentlessly, and generally reveling in the glorious mess, a digital celebration of their friendship.

"He's in love, and he doesn't care who knows it. The fool. The beautiful, utterly smitten fool," Jeonghan tweeted, accompanied by a winking emoji, his words dripping with amusement, his tone a gentle ribbing.

"Someone get this man a ring, and a good lawyer. And maybe a muzzle," Mingyu added, followed by a string of laughing emojis, his words laced with playful sarcasm, his tone a theatrical pronouncement.

"I'm officiating the wedding. I've already picked out my outfit. It's a black sequined jumpsuit, with wings. And a tiara. And I'm bringing backup dancers," Seungkwan declared, his words laced with dramatic flair, his expression a picture of theatrical grandeur, his tone a performance.

Hoshi, despite his initial panic, his red face, and his stammering apologies, couldn't help but smile. He had accidentally revealed his deepest secret, the love that consumed him, but he didn't regret it. He loved you, and he wanted the world to know, even if it meant enduring a tidal wave of teasing and chaos, a digital tsunami of reactions. The chaos was a small price to pay for the happiness he had found with you, for the love that made his life complete, a love that was as chaotic and beautiful as SEVENTEEN themselves.

The digital world erupted in a frenzy of speculation and excitement. #HoshiDatingScandal dominated trending topics worldwide, a chaotic mix of supportive messages, angry outbursts, and wild rumors swirling across social media platforms. Fans dissected every word of Hoshi's drunken declaration, scrutinizing old interviews, searching for clues, and creating elaborate theories about your identity.

Some fans, the staunch defenders of Hoshi's privacy, expressed outrage at the invasion of his personal life, demanding respect and understanding. Others, the more possessive and obsessive ones, launched a vitriolic attack, their words laced with jealousy and anger, their targets aimed squarely at you.

"Who does she think she is?"

"She's just using him for fame."

"Hoshi deserves better."

The comments, sharp and cruel, pierced through the carefully constructed walls you had built around yourself. They echoed the whispers of the past, the rumors that had haunted your university days, the pain you had tried so hard to bury.

SEVENTEEN's company, usually quick to issue statements and control the narrative, remained uncharacteristically silent. The members, aware of the delicate situation and Hoshi's genuine affection for you, urged the company to handle the situation with care. They were prepared to defend Hoshi, to support his decision, to stand by his side, no matter the consequences.

The silence from the company fueled the online frenzy, adding fuel to the fire of speculation and rumors. The media, ever hungry for a sensational story, hounded you and Hoshi, their intrusive questions and flashing cameras a constant reminder of the public's intense scrutiny.

Amidst the chaos, you found yourself receiving support from the most unexpected places. Fellow stylists, designers, and industry professionals, many of whom had witnessed your talent and professionalism firsthand, spoke out in your defense, praising your work ethic and integrity.

"She's one of the most talented and dedicated stylists I've ever worked with," one designer tweeted. "These rumors are baseless and unfair."

"I've worked with her on several projects," a photographer added. "She's always been professional and respectful. This backlash is disgusting."

Even some fans, the more rational and open-minded ones, started to rally behind you, their supportive messages a beacon of hope amidst the negativity.

"If Hoshi is happy, we should be happy for him."

"Let's not spread hate. It's not what SEVENTEEN would want."

Hoshi, despite the pressure and the scrutiny, remained steadfast in his support for you. He publicly acknowledged his relationship, his words filled with sincerity and affection, his voice unwavering.

"I love her," he declared in a live broadcast, his eyes filled with a fierce determination. "And I will not apologize for that. She is a wonderful person, and she deserves all the love and support in the world."

His words, honest and heartfelt, silenced some of the negativity, but the tension remained. The aftermath of his drunken confession had thrown your lives into a whirlwind, a chaotic storm of public scrutiny and conflicting opinions.

You and Hoshi leaned on each other, finding strength and comfort in your shared love. You navigated the storm together, hand in hand, determined to protect your relationship from the prying eyes of the world.

The members of SEVENTEEN, your loyal and chaotic support system, were there every step of the way, offering unwavering support, playful teasing, and much-needed laughter. They were your family, your friends, your confidants, and they would do anything to protect you both.

"We got your back, hyung," Mingyu said, his voice firm, his eyes filled with a fierce loyalty.

"Don't let the haters get you down," Seungkwan added, his words laced with dramatic flair, his expression a picture of theatrical support.

"Just focus on each other," Jeonghan advised, his voice soft, his eyes filled with a gentle wisdom.

The journey ahead would be challenging, but you and Hoshi were ready to face it together. Your love, born in secrecy and nurtured in chaos, was strong enough to withstand any storm.

-- The End

[miniwheat77]

Stalker. (Slasher!Ghost x Reader.)

!nsfw, SENSITIVE MATERIAL, stalking, Stockholm syndrome sorta?, smut, unprotected p in v sex, dark!ghost, no minors, blood, murder, proceed with caution!

You don’t notice it. Not at first.

The dark presence looming over you. Eyes burning into your every move.

Nothing feels out of the ordinary. You don’t feel like anyone is watching you, but wise words echo from that all too familiar news reporter.

“It’s too late if you see him, you’re dead already.”

He’s been terrorizing your town for the past few months, stalking and killing people. His very first victim is the only person that lived just long enough to tell the tale, but he bled out on his way to the hospital. Telling about the chilling look of his skull mask and skeleton gloves. How he seemed to be wearing some kind of tactical gear, before he attacked.

He said he knew it had been going on for weeks, how he’d ignored him looking at him through windows and cracked doors, thinking it was his mind playing tricks on him, until he’d confronted the ghostly man.

That’s when he attacked.

Reports said that if you saw him and acknowledged him, you’d be dead before the sun would rise. It was terrifying and your town reflected the horror. No one was out past dark. Six pm sharp, the streets were empty. Doors were locked, windows locked and covered. The stores were still recovering and replenishing their stock of cameras and house alarms, alarm companies hadn’t made so much money from this small town ever. Locks were bought and replaced in mass amounts.

It was terrifying, the death toll had gone up to double digits at the hands of this mysterious man.

They called him a Ghost. A ghost of the night, because it’s the only time he came out.

The first time you saw him, you thought your mind was playing tricks on you. The shadowy white skeleton jaw, you did a double take and then shook your head. It was just from the news. It was gone before you saw it again.

The second time, you were getting suspicious. Bright blue eyes peering at you from doorways, you started seeing them in your dreams.

But the third time, you couldn’t deny it. You were his next victim.

Your eyes were parted enough you could see him, but he didn’t know you were awake. The door cracked and his skull mask came into view. He pushes through the cracked door, loud. He didn’t try to be quiet. You stayed completely still, letting out airy breaths like you were still asleep. Not wanting to give away that you had seen your stalker.

“It’s too late if you see him, you’re dead already.”

The reporters voice plays through your head, so you shut your eyes.

He’s not there, not like this.

So you stay comfortable in the unknown. Pretending that you don’t see his dark six-foot-something figure at the end of your bed each night, tightening his fists together at the thought of killing you.

Ghost doesn’t catch on. He doesn’t realize you had known about his looming presence. He wonders why it’s taken this long, how you could be so naive to him standing just right there. How had you not noticed? Were you this gullible?

He got closer and closer each night. Sitting at the edge of your bed as you slept, hand caressing your soft skin. Other times he’d sit in a chair in the corner of the room, usually where you did your reading. It was weird, but eventually you got used to his presence, and you knew you should probably seek out help. Because it wasn’t only that you got used to it, but you liked it.

As long as you weren’t acknowledging him, he wasn’t killing anymore people.

And he wasn’t hurting you.

His hands on you, they should make your skin crawl. They should terrify you beyond belief.

But they don’t. They make your skin hot. His hands are strong and rough. Calloused.

But when they’re on you, they’re soft.

What you were doing, it wasn’t a good idea. It was a terrible idea. You didn’t even read it, you bought it and set it down on the small table by the chair in your room where you read books. You’d seen him pick up your books before and take a look at them.

You set it there, unopened. No bookmark. It was brand new.

‘Stockholm Syndrome.’

He saw you place it there, thought that you had just gone out and purchased another book. It wasn’t until that night when he sat in the chair to watch you sleep when he took a look at it. For once in his life, his stomach dropped. The terror he feels, realizing that you had known of his presence this entire time. He had the pocket knife in his hand, standing over you before he could even think. Hand drawn back.

But his features softened when you let out a mewl, lips parting.

He took a step back. You were still asleep. “Ghost- please!” You whine.

“M-more!” You squirmed. His eyes widened. Realizing what this was.

Your breaths picked up in your sleep, hands gripping the bedsheets. Your voice is low, a whisper almost. “Yes- yes. I’m-“ your lips part and you hiccup in your sleep. He can’t believe you haven’t woken up.

You relax after a second. It’s clear what had just happened. He gives you another few seconds. Closing the knife on his pants and tucking it back away. He sits down on the side of your bed, caressing your hair.

“Poor girl..” he mumbles. “Don’t even know what you’ve just gotten yourself into.” He whispers.

He moves his left hand down, his right still brushing your hair down. Resting it on his thick shaft, hard and pulsing against his jeans. He rubs it uncomfortably through them. It’s been a long time since Ghost had gotten aroused.

Too long.

It took 3 more days for him to come back after that. You feigned innocence and he knew what game you were playing. Instead of wanting to hurt you, he watched with lustful eyes and a hard dick. Ghost was a killer but he was never a pervert.

He felt fucking pathetic, stroking his cock as he watched you through windows. As he sat in the chair and watched you squirm. Cumming in his hand and not even staying quiet as he finished. He knew sometimes you watched him, but he wanted to try your game. Because his wasn’t working.

He came back, but this night was different.

Ghost was eager, more than usual. Not to kill you, surprisingly. But to get his cock in you.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He sat in the chair, you were asleep. He could tell this time, by the deep breaths. Your dreams would start soon and he was going to spoil you. He wondered why you hadn’t called the police but your obsession had only gotten worse. Leaving bookmarks in the book. Highlighting the parts that he knew all too well.

He stood up, unzipped his jeans and tugged his throbbing dick through the hole. Stroking himself as he approached you. He drew a hand through your hair, caressing it.

But when he grabbed a handful and tugged hard, you woke up.

“There we go.” He laughs. “Now I’ve got your attention hm?” He tugs you forward by your hair, you cry out, he forces you onto your knees. Your hand wrap around his wrists to try to offer some relief to your scalp but he doesn’t relent. Hand still in your hair. ���Your fucking brain should be cut out and studied with how pathetic you are. Stupid, stupid slut.”

He grasps his cock with his free hand, stroking it. The blushing tip brushes against your nose. He’s close to you. You swallow hard. “Go on. Suck my fucking dick little slut. I know you’ve been dreaming about it.” He laughs. He makes you feel small. Your eyes snap up to his, making eye contact. A ping of arousal rush through him at the eye contact, the look in your eyes was nothing but lust. He laughs, shaking his head. “Not an ounce of fear one in those eyes.” He whispers.

He slaps your cheek with his hand, hearing you gasp. Your head moves to the side but he tugs you back to look up at him with your hair. He cuts off your gasp by pushing his dick between your lips. He forces you back into the side of the bed with a hand in your hair. Wrapping his other hand in your hair as well, pulling tight. He pushes you into the bed and starts fucking your throat. Holding your head completely still.

He doesn’t care to let you have much air. Tears stream down your cheeks and the sounds you’re making are pathetic. Saliva spills down your chin. The squelching sound is lewd, and your pussy is dripping between your legs. He’s right. You are pathetic.

He doesn’t last long, not even a few minutes before he’s cumming down your throat. You swallow it down, looking up at him as you do. He cuts off your air completely and you keep eye contact with him and your face reddens. You swallow hard, keeping his gaze. He pulls away from you slowly. Cock sliding out of your mouth, strings of cum and saliva from your mouth to his dick. This used to gross you out. It usually would.

He steps back. You stay right where you are. Not moving. Even when he disappears, you stay still for another few minutes before getting up to clean yourself up.

He watched you through the window, you’d thought he was long gone. Sucking at your fingers and fucking your pussy with them. Sprawled out on your bed and crying out for him when you came.

A fucking murderer.

He was right. Your brain did need to be studied.

You’d seen the Ghost, in person. You’d encountered him in the night.

And lived to tell the tale.

You kept your mouth shut and he was sure of it. Because without his mask on, you had no idea who he was. He watched you close and you never spoke a word to anyone about what you had seen for the past few months in your room. You kept it a secret and it was a dirty one.

You worked at a coffee shop, an online order had been placed. Plain black coffee. Something you didn’t see too much of anymore. But when the man came to pick it up. Over six feet tall.

His brown hair, didn’t stand out to you. His height didn’t either. But when his blue eyes caught yours, you froze. His face was still as stone. He smiles when he sees you stiffen up. The courage and confidence you had before had been stripped away. He was huge, seeing him in the daylight terrified you. The reality of what’s been going on is setting in, completely. He’s watching your every move, not just at night.

“See you tonight, Y/N.” He takes his coffee as he says it. It’s barely above a whisper. You stand there, still frozen. You know you should tell someone. You know you should.

You glance down at the mobile order before pressing ‘complete’ but stop yourself, seeing the name. Simon Riley.

“It’s been five months since the killer has killed. We recommend you stay inside your homes and keep all of your windows and doors locked.” You scoff, shaking your head. They had no clue.

You should call the cops, have them waiting there.

But you don’t. Instead, you wait for him.

Awake, on your bed. Only an oversized shirt on. Nothing else. Your door cracks open, your eyes dart up to his. The same ones from the coffee shop. He closes the door behind himself.

He tugs his mask off, you swallow hard. He throws it down on the chair. Only now do you see that he’s covered in blood. Your eyes widen.

He laughs. It’s deep and dark. “I hope you didn’t intend on calling the police anytime soon. Because darling.” He takes slow steps toward you. Using his thumb to transfer blood from his vest onto your chin.

“You’ve just made yourself an accessory to murder.”

You clench your eyes shut. What the fuck!

“How about you get on your knees for me again.”

You do it.

Why does he have this effect on you?

He caresses your hair once more, wrapping a hand in it and grabbing another handful. Pushing your head back into the bed once more. He hears you whimper. He laughs. “So fucking pathetic. How about you beg me for it, hm?”

“Please..” you pant. His cock is already pulled through his zipper. The tip right in front of you. “Please fuck my throat, Ghost. I want it so bad..” you whine. He laughs. “Open your mouth.” You part your lips immediately.

He’s got blood smeared all over you before he realizes it. He pushes his cock into your mouth again and starts thrusting his dick into your throat. It feels good, but it’s not as good as what he’s going to get. He growls, it’s deep and low. The rumble from him has arousal pooling between your thighs.

He draws his hips back, before he’s finished this time. You look up at him. The look you’ve got in your eyes is pure lust. “Get on the bed.”

You obey him right away. Standing up and sitting on the edge. He grasps the hem of your oversized shirt, pulling it over your head. He bites his lip as he looks at you. “Lay back.” He pushes your chest slightly. He pushes you up the bed further, lowering himself to one knee. He runs his tongue up your slit and you shudder at the feeling. Finally stimulated from him, after all of this time. “Oh god…” you mewl, clutching at the sheets and spreading your legs wider. He doesn’t waste anymore time, devouring you. Tongue sliding into your hole and flicking your clit. You wrap a hand in his hair and whine as he eats your pussy. Better than you’ve even felt before.

He sucks at your clit and you nearly fall apart, it leaves your lips before you can’t stop yourself. “Oh Simon!”

He freezes up, pulling away from you. “How do you know that?” He presses his hand against your throat. He’s panicking.

You’re panting as you look up at him. Heart racing from how close he’d gotten you. You stay silent. Toying with him. “Y/N..” he warns. You hear the click of the pocket knife, the blade shining in the lamp light. He runs it along your inner thigh. “Tell me. Don’t make me hurt you.”

You whine. Eyes fixed on it. How he’s juggling your life in his hands, he can take it anytime he wants but chooses not to. “Focus.” He presses it into your skin. “Y-your mobile order… for the coffee.”

“Fuck…” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to kill you, aren’t I?” He breathes. You’re still fixed in the trance he’d put you in with his tongue. You stay with your legs spread on the bed. “I.. I won’t tell. I haven’t, I won’t. But you do what you have to do.” You mumble.

He shakes his head, getting a good look at you with blood smeared on your stomach and tits from his hands gripping your body. “Just shut the fuck up.” He mumbles through gritted teeth, lowering himself back down. “You’re such a stupid fucking girl, obsessed with me. Glorifying me the way you do with those eyes. You’re pathetic.”

You mewl when he takes your clit between his lips again, sucking at it. He laps at your entrance with his tongue, feeling just how wet you’ve gotten since he pulled away. He pauses to look at your abused pussy, how red and blushed it’s gotten since he started eating you out. He pulls away one final time, grasping your thighs and tugging you up to the edge of the bed, pressing his tip right against the entrance to your cunt.

He pushes his cock into you and you swallow him up. He draws back and thrusts into you, the squelch is unreal, how wet you are. He unzips his vest and shrugs it off, throwing it down. Tugging his shirt over his head. You whine out as you look at him. He’s toned, clearly a huge man. He makes you feel small.

He slides out of you, forcing you up the bed once more, crawling onto it. Hovering over the top of you. He wraps his hands in yours, entwining his fingers into yours. He forces them above your head, guiding his cock into your blushing hole once more. He lays over you completely, resting his entire body on yours. He’s a little heavy but you love it. You love being smothered by him. You’ve never been more aroused in your entire life. He hammers his hips into yours, your bed slams into the wall which each hard thrust he takes into you, you cry out.

“M’gonna fill this pussy.” He shakes his head. He hovers over you, holding onto your bed frame and staring down at you. “I’m gonna fill you up and fuck it deeper, knock you up.” He laughs, his white teeth bright in the moonlight. “Huh. How does that sound hm? You want to carry around my baby? Maybe he’ll turn out just like his daddy. A killer too.” He laughs.

You cry out, pussy clenched around him. “Oh you like that? You like the idea of me filling this pussy, don’t you?” His thick accent has you falling right over the edge, your thighs shake and you want to squirm but he doesn’t let you. He pins you down as you cum around him. Shaking and crying.

“There you go, cum on my cock. Such a pathetic girl.” He talks you through your orgasm. Talking down on you.

He whines when he feels you getting tighter on him. Overstimulated but somehow your body takes more of him. He’s fucking you hard, the thought of him filling you has you reeling. You go quiet, watching his cock disappear into your pussy. He’s deep, spreading you apart. His cock is huge and you’re surprised by your body, what just a little bit of arousal can do. “Ah fuck! Gonna cu-“ he gasps, his voice cracks and it’s whiny as he cums, deep inside of you, right to the hilt. Just like he said he would.

You’re panting, looking up at him. “Fuck.. fuck you’re tight.” He mumbles. He stays still, relishing in the way you feel around him. After a few minutes, he pulls away. Hearing you gasp at the feeling of his cum pooling back out of you.

He stands up, tucking his cock back into his jeans. He’s still panting slightly.

“I’ll be back tomorrow. If I find out you take something for that, I’ll kill you.” He breathes. He grasps his mask, sliding it on. Your eyes follow him, shirtless with his mask on. He slides his shirt back on, vest following after.

He leaves through the door he’d come in, closing it behind him. Leaving you there.

When you click your light on, you see that there’s blood smears everywhere. A pool of his cum that had leaked out of you on the bed. You would have to clean it up before you could sleep.

What the hell was wrong with you?

[downbadf0rficppl]

someone's there

Bucky x F!Reader

Summary: When you walk home from the office, someone seems to be following you home. Your best friend is not happy about that.

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Stalking/Stalker-Ex BF, Domestic Abuse, Anxiety, Angry!Bucky, Protective!Bucky, Panic Attack

Repost

You stepped out of the office, pulling your coat tighter around you against the night. It was mid-November and New York was getting colder and colder every day that passed by. You were excited about Christmas - it was one of your favourite times of the year. The lights that went up from apartment to apartment, the tree and ice rink in Rockefeller center that you and your boyfriend - Nathan - visited every year, you and Nathan driving up to Boston to meet your family. Well, your ex-boyfriend.

You'd broken up a month ago. He'd been laid off about a year ago and taken up drinking to fill the time. Nathan was not a very nice drunk. He'd yell and throw things when he was angry, which was most of the time when he was drunk, and then beg you to come back, saying that he needed you and that he'd clean up his act as soon as he got a job. You had a well-paying job - secretary to the Avengers - but Nathan was always the higher earner of the two of you. You could hardly sustain his lifestyle on your job, but you stayed. Why? You had no idea.

Nathan was a smart guy, he got picked up by some major firm headquartered in Manhattan just over a month after he got laid off. He was back to his old routine of leaving the house at 6 and coming back by 8 - you hardly saw him anymore.

And much to your dismay, the drinking didn't stop. Sure, he slowed down. He couldn't risk ruining his reputation at his new workplace. So he limited the drinking to after work. But he never stopped.

The throwing vases became throwing punches, the yelling became constant threats, consoling words became consoling sex.

You did well to hide the new bruises from your colleagues, although your act was not good enough to fool everybody. You'd let your guard down in the toilet, rolling your sleeves up to wash your hands, just as Natasha Romanoff. Yes, Natasha Romanoff aka the Black Widow aka the world's best assassin.

She didn't mention it there, but you were called to a meeting with her soon after. She sat you down with a glass of water and asked you a simple question: "Are you safe?"

Your wide eyes and trembling figure gave you away.

Nat implored you to break up with him or to at least come and live at the compound for a while - just until you figured out what you wanted to do.

You turned her offer down, stating that you were fine. You'd be fine. She fixed you with a stern glance, but even Natasha Romanoff couldn't force you to do something you didn't want.

Bucky, on the other hand, was a completely different story. He'd noticed the bruises long before Nat had, and gone out of his way to try and make your life easier. He sent you less paperwork to file, fewer menial tasks to do, and even put in a request for you to be moved to the New York office. In his eyes that meant you'd be further away from Nathan.

The next week, you both moved to Manhattan.

The bruises started to get darker, and more visible around your body. You dropped the short-sleeved dresses and low necklines in favour of long-sleeved turtlenecks with trousers.

Bucky worried for you. The dark rings around your eyes, the ghostly pallor of your skin. He was determined to save you. The only issue was he had no idea where you lived. New York was a big enough place that he'd never run into you. He knew you didn't live in Brooklyn, but that was about it.

The night where it all came to a head was after a Stark Gala. There was a group photo, where Bucky's arm rested on your hip while your arm rested on his. Nathan was pissed. He'd been sitting on the sofa when you came home, the photo open on his phone and a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his hand. He pushed you into a wall and slapped you, his rings cutting into your face. He yelled every manner of words in your direction, calling you a 'slut' and a 'whore', and telling you that you were worthless. You cried, fresh bruises forming on your neck where he gripped you and blood dripping down your face.

You took his berating for the next few hours until Nathan retreated onto the sofa, sitting down and muttering under his breath. You opened your mouth, trying to defend yourself. Wrong move. Nathan stood up, even more agitated than before. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was almost finished and brought it down on your head.

The next thing you remember was waking up to 4 white walls. You were in a hospital, your hand being gripped tightly by someone. You tried to escape from the vice-like grip when a thumb ran over your knuckles. You knew those hands.

"Bucky." You whispered, your eyes still adjusting to the light. Your voice was sore from disuse, but the way that Bucky's eyes lit up, you would have thought that you were singing a love song just to him.

The calmness in your heart faded as soon as your brain caught up with you. You tried to convince Bucky that he needed to go but he shushed you gently.

"Shh. Don't stress yourself out. You're safe. I promise." The red rings around his eyes gave him away. Bucky had been crying. Over you.

You held his hand tightly that day. And the day after. And even the day after that. You weren't sure if you would ever find the strength to let go.

By the time you were out of the hospital, you'd moved back to Upstate New York - Bucky had made sure that you would never have to set foot in the city again if you didn't want to.

You returned back to work as normal - the restraining order you had filed against Nathan made your mind rest easier. The whole team was happy to have you back and smiling again, but they made sure to check in with you a hell of a lot more than they used to. Clint would swing by with an apple, and accidentally leave it at your desk - the first time, you'd felt bad and tried to return it, but you quickly caught on to his tactics. Nat would bring up game nights and movie nights, begging you to come, even if it was just you both.

But most of all, Bucky. Every day, you'd wake up to a text from him, wishing you a wonderful morning and spewing some inspirational affirmations for the start of the day. He'd bring you coffee, made just how you like it, as soon as he was back from his morning run. He'd spent a while perfecting the drink - making sure it was exactly to your standard. He'd walk you to your apartment for your biweekly 2pm therapy sessions (that he'd set you up with after he had realised how much difficulty you were having sleeping), and then off to lunch at some random hole-in-the-wall spot that he knew you would love. He'd call you as you got home, making sure you got home safe, and then a goodnight text to fall asleep to.

To others, his persistent need to be around you would be stifling. But after 4 years of having your needs be put lower than the damn cockroaches in the walls, it was nice to feel wanted.

You set your life up - personal bank accounts, new social media - anything to separate that part of your life from your new one. You got a new phone (courtesy of Tony, who insisted on buying you the latest iPhone, no matter how hard you tried to convince him that he didn't need to do that because 'where on earth would you find the money to pay him back?' He scoffed at that, "I'm a billionaire hun, I think I can afford to buy my secretary a new phone). You went to get your haircut, the shorter length was something you knew Nathan would have hated.

You'd walked into the compound the day after you got it cut, worried that no one would like it as much as you did.

As soon as you made it to the kitchen, you heard a loud wolf whistle. Nat was sitting on the sofa with Sam, and they both cheered loudly as you posed for them.

Bucky's jaw dropped as he walked into the kitchen. You were still showing off for Nat and Sam - you hadn't seen him walk in.

He walked over, reaching behind you to get a pod for the coffee machine, leaning down to whisper in your ear, "Looking good, Doll." His hot breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine.

You smiled up at him, before grabbing an apple and heading back toward your desk. You glanced back at Bucky and your eyes drifted downwards to a very large and very prominent issue. You stifled a giggle before getting back to work.

You'd continued to tease Bucky for a while, inconspicuous brushes and a few comments here and there. Enough to make him flustered, but not enough to make him suspicious.

He continued being the perfect gentleman. Helping you when you needed him to, being there when no one else was.

You started your normal journey back home, getting out of the compound was sometimes a tedious affair because of the thousands of security gates between the compound and the outermost gate. Given that this is where the Avengers live and train, it's justified. Still tedious though.

It was a quarter mile from the compound to the bus stop that took you home - you didn't like driving, especially in the frost and the dark. You put your headphones in, picking back up on the podcast you started this morning. It was an interesting one - some new True Crime podcast that your best friend had recommended to you.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you walked through a dark and lonely street. You gripped your bag tighter around you and sped up. There was someone following you.

You glanced behind you, your eyes catching sight of brown hair and a blue t-shirt. It had Palm Springs emblazoned on it. Funny. You'd bought Nathan a similar t-shirt a few years ago.

You fished your phone out of your pocket, quickly dialing the one person you felt safest with.

"Doll?" Bucky picked after the first ring.

"Bucky, cred că cineva mă urmărește." You said, your voice loud enough that the other person could hear you were on the phone.

"Tell me where you are, Doll, I'll come and get you." You could hear Bucky pulling on a jacket and grabbing his keys.

"Umm, cred că sunt aproape de Joey's."

"The pizza place?"

"Da, îl văd de unde sunt." The footsteps behind you seem to be getting louder, but you forced yourself to remain calm, "Am să te aștept acolo. Vă rog să veniți repede."

You ducked into the pizza place, walking straight up to the counter. By now, you were sure of who it was - but Nathan didn't follow you into the pizza place. Maybe you were just overreacting. Joey's was mostly empty, with a few teenagers here and there - probably camping out after some house party that got shut down.

"Same as always, kiddo?" Joey asked, and you nodded with a slight grin. You and Bucky came to Joey's Pizza Place a lot - Bucky used to say that it felt like home. You were inclined to agree.

"No metal man with you today?" Joey enjoyed teasing Bucky. His dad, also named Joey, had fought alongside Bucky in the war. Joey had grown up on stories of the greatness of the Howling Commandoes and it had been one of his greatest pleasures to serve him pizza every time they came.

"He's coming - got caught up in traffic."

"Busy men, huh?" You giggled at that.

The door opened again. You turned around to find yourself face-to-face with someone you hoped you'd never see again. Nathan's sister.

"Thought I'd find you here, bitch."

June stalked over to you, her face filled with rage. She had been good friends with you before Nathan and your relationship started going wrong, but when you had confided your pains with her, she'd turned her back on you. Blood is thicker than water. She'd called you names before - filling your comments with every vile comment she could think of, texting and emailing you death threats, anything to remind you of just how broken and damaged you were.

Before you knew what was happening, her hand collided with your cheek. The whole place burst into action.

Joey jumped around the side of the counter as June hurled insults at your face.

You tried to push her away as she swung at you again, but her hand hit your shoulder.

Joey pushed you behind him, as one of the kitchen hands stepped out to pull June back.

A teenager was on the phone with the police.

You tried to cover your ears as the noise built in your head.

The door swung open, letting in a draft.

Boots on the linoleum floor. Familiar boots.

Sirens.

"We were in the neighbourhood, Sergeant." Something about a noise complaint.

A hand pulling you into a firm chest. Tears streaming down your face. Your favourite voice whispering sweet nothings, stroking your hair, begging you to calm down.

"You're doing so good for me, Doll, just keep breathing." Bucky's pulse was steady under your hand. Slowly, your breathing evened out and you lifted your head to meet Bucky's eyes. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around you to stop you from collapsing.

You stayed in Bucky's embrace while the police wrapped up - June was being taken to the local PD for the altercation and also driving under the influence. Bucky told you that Nathan had also been arrested for violating the restraining order. Your heart sunk.

"I'll never escape him, will I?" You whispered to Bucky, as you sat down in your favourite booth to eat.

"You can, and you will," Bucky reassured you, squeezing your hand in his.

You ate your pizza in relative silence after that - most of the shop had cleared out with the police. Joey gave you your pizza for free, along with a tight hug on the side. He told you that you'd always be safe in here, "although metal man seems to have that covered." Bucky glared at the nickname, making you both laugh.

You walked hand-in-hand to Bucky's motorbike - his fingers ghosted over the bruise on your cheekbone from the slap as he fastened your helmet on your head.

"It's nothing, Buck. I've had worse." Bucky gave you a pointed look, "Too soon?"

He threw his leg over the bike and you settled behind him, resting your cheek on his spine. "Forever is too soon for my liking."

You smiled at that and nuzzled further into his back.

"Where to madam?" He said, putting on an exaggerated British accent. You leaned up to whisper in his ear.

"Take me home, Buck."

fin.

buy me a coffee

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 27

Danny watched on as Nightwing- his literal soulmate- did an amazing backflip off of a roof, spinning several times in the air before landing gracefully on the top of another building. Nightwing was so graceful and in control of himself and his movements. Danny found himself wondering how Nightwing would move as a ghost.

Heck, how would he look as a ghost? Would he have white hair like Phantom or blue hair like Ember? Maybe green hair like Kitty and Youngblood, but Ghostwriters hair was still black as a ghost so maybe he'd be like that?

Shaking his head he moved to get up from where he had been leaning up against an old chimney, Nightwing having long since left. How should he go about this anyway? He can't just go up to a famous vigilante and be like, "Hi I'm your soulmate. Wanna go out with a complete stranger who has no way of proving anything that they're saying?"

And there was the real issue. If Nightwing asked how he had seen his soulmark Danny could just tell the truth: he had seen it in that nasty fight last week where hoards of ninjas had attacked them and tore up Nightwings suit enough to see it from his vantage point.

But if he asked about Dannys soul mark...well that was harder to explain.

His own soulmark used to be on his torso before he died but after he stepped out of the portal it was gone. As in there wasn't a trace of it anywhere. It was one of the reasons he never went anywhere without a shirt anymore because he knew someone would eventually notice its absence.

He could probably explain it as Phantom to make it more believable but he would have to get Nightwing to know Phantom more for him to trust him.

Which lead back to "how do I introduce myself to him without earning an electrified stick to the face?"

After a phone call with Jazz, where she basically gave him the long winded version of "Just be yourself! You were made for eachother after all." He decided that yeah! He can use his ghostly instincts to guide him! Whats the worst that could happen?

Cue Nightwing and the other bats in the batcave a week later, crowded around a table covered in pictures of captured villians and thugs. All of them were the same. All of them showed a subject laying on thier bellys hog tied, and in a cage with the words "horny jail" etched into it.

The only real connection that all of these lowlifes had was them making crude threats, creepy unsolicited advances, catcalling or otherwise being a creep towards Nightwing.

Conclusion: Nighting either has a fanboy following him around getting in over his head or he has a violent stalker staking a claim

Robin disagreed with his siblings. Clearly whoever is doing this is defending Graysons honor and Damian approves.

Danny thinks he's doing a good job in the "showing soulmate that you are capable of protecting him from weirdos" maybe he should get Nightwing an Anti-Creep Stick of his own...

[starwrighter]

1/?? Halloween prompt

I’ve got brain rot for creepy Deadserious content but only when it’s only seen as creepy by outsiders. (I know I’m writing a fic with a similar plot but it’s different I swear! Also my grammar is shit because I’m getting dental work done tomorrow and I’m nervous) Tw for stalker behavior

So Damian has a crush on Danny and immediately goes about acting on these feelings much to onlookers horror. Danny is swooning because someone made the effort to do a background check on him. Danny thinks Damian doing this is really smart because, he could be a serial killer for ancients sake why would you risk that? Others say this is a horrible invasion of privacy.

Damian not realizing he's being creepy (being liminal and being an ex assassin, turned vigilante wasn't doing him any favors) Plus Danny also not realizing it's creepy unless you relay Damian behavior towards him with different names.

Damian's just being a textbook stalker, breaking into his house and shit and Danny's all like "awwww he likes me" because this is just normal ghostly courting rituals! His dormroom isn't his lair so Damian breaking in doesn't feel like he's violating any sort of boundary. To him it's like a friend showing up at the coffee shop you work at to say hi.

Danny's had stalkers before, he's very cautious of his behavior to insure he never stalked anyone. Being stalked back in Amity was a horrific experience for him. From cameras in the locker rooms at school (wes) to cameras in his bathroom and bedroom at home (Vlad)! He couldn't feel safe anywhere! To Danny Damian's not a stalker, he's his protector. Nobody seems to understand when he tries to explain this though they just look at him like he's lost his mind.

Damian’s not subtle at all and Danny’s kicking his feet like a lovesick school girl who found out her crush likes her back. Overall it’s super cute from their points of view Damian’s planning an official confession to ask him on a date while Danny’s trying to figure out if Damian actually likes him or is just being nice. They’re just doing normal couple things but people just jump and attack Damian’s character while painting Danny as some kind of brainwashed victim.

The thing is… Danny’s become very good at appearing normal while Damian refuses to pretend to be a bumbling idiot like the rest of his family. He also refuses to dull down his personality for anything other than secret identity reasons. For these reasons since their relationship had become public, Damian had been painted by the media as a creepy possessive boyfriend who threatened Danny into a relationship. This infuriates Danny, the only one doing any kind of possession is him god damn it!

They want to be around each other all the time and that’s normal behavior for ghost/liminal couples! They live much longer than regular humans do they’re like elves, their perceptions of time are messed up. They still spend time apart they still have hobbies and an independent life, people just get hung up on the amount of time they do spend together. It’s normal behavior for them to know mountains of information about each others interests to the point they almost know more than each other. It’s normal to know each other’s schedules and background check the people they associate with. (The realms are very dangerous with shapeshifters and manipulators like spectra and Desiree who can ruin your afterlife in a matter of minutes) Their relationship is creepy to those who haven’t gone to extremes to survive.

Damian has taken to ignoring the reputation press has given him. He’s dealt with paparazzi and tabloids before it’s just frustrating to deal with. It’s when people start accusing him of hurting his beloved that really pisses him off.

(Bonus if Danny’s the one frothing at the mouth to maul a reporter while they try to paint him as a poor innocent victim)

I’mma end the prompt with this so everyone understands why Damian specifically being targeted by press. The more liminal you are the more creepy/uncanny you appear to other people and the more effort you have to put in to hide it. It’s why the bats are more believed to be Eldritch creatures than actual humans in suits. Surprisingly becoming a Halfa completely changes this effect to do the complete opposite. It’s easier for the human brain to look at a halfa and think “Innocent or normal,” Vlad and Danny were morons when it came to actually hiding their identity’s it was only their statuses as halfa’s that prevented people from comprehending them being anything other than normal.

In short Damian’s too dead to be perceived as normal while Danny’s too alive to be perceived as anything other than normal.

[mysticalcrowntyrant]

Yandere stalker x Reader

You feel it before you see it.

That gnawing sensation—prickles running up your spine, the back of your neck tightening, your body warning you before your mind catches up. Someone is watching you.

At first, you tell yourself it's paranoia. Late nights walking home alone from class has a way of making your imagination turn shadows into monsters. You laugh it off when you step inside your apartment, lock the door, and check the peephole. No one is there.

But then it happens again.

A flicker of movement outside your window. A lingering presence at the corner of your street, just beyond the glow of the streetlamp. Footsteps behind you that stop when you turn around.

You tell yourself it’s nothing.

Until it isn’t.

One night, you come home to find a single flower on your doorstep—a white lily. No note. No explanation. Just the soft petals, delicate and ghostly in the dim hallway light.

Your stomach twists.

The next morning, your phone buzzes with an unknown number. You looked beautiful today.

Panic laces through your veins as you scan your surroundings. The café you frequent, the bookstore you love, the bus stop where you stand every morning…has he been here all along?

Your heart pounds as you type back. Who is this?

No reply.

Days pass, but the feeling never leaves. His presence is like smoke—thin, curling, impossible to grasp, but suffocating. You start locking your windows. You stop going out alone. You keep your curtains shut, even though you used to love the way sunlight spilled across your floor.

But he still finds ways to remind you he’s there.

A note slipped under your door: You shouldn't hide from me.

A whisper when you’re walking home alone: I’ll always find you.

You don’t tell anyone. You don’t go to the police. You know how this ends. They never believe girls like you.

Masterlist

[bitchlessdino]

what to expect this sluttober...

no set order, simply all in the works

LINKS WILL BE AVAILABLE ON THE BANNERS WHEN POSTED, AND A ✅ NEXT TO THE SYNOPSIS WILL INDICATED IT'S POST STATUS.

Link

Pairing: perverted ghost!jeonghan x cute neighbor!seungkwan x afab!reader Genre: supernatural comedy, smut Summary: As far as unwanted roommates go, your ghostly companion was one you never anticipated. But when this specter began to assert himself and meddle in your dating life—or lack thereof—you started to reconsider your stance; maybe having a roommate wasn’t so bad after all. Especially if he's helping you get laid. ✅✅✅

Link

Pairing: fem!eader x stalker!joshua

Genre: thriller, smut, stalker au

Summary: Diary entries of a man in love. Joshua knew he loved you the moment he laid his eyes on you and had to have you, even if it meant enduring the echoes of every intimate detail of every sexual encounter you’d had before him. But he knew you were worth the wait. He was worth the wait.✅✅✅

Pairing: fem!witch hunter!reader x witch!seokmin

Genre: supernatural dramedy, forbidden romance, suggestive (tbd)

Summary: For millennia, witches have lived among humans, seamlessly blending into society while safeguarding their ancient histories. Alongside them were witch hunters, driven by a singular purpose: to eradicate powerful witches in the name of peace and safety. But the secrets hidden in plain sight are about to unravel, exposing the true nature of the lives they’ve all been living. Starting with the rare one of a hundred boy witches, Lee Seokmin.

Link

Pairing: murderer!seungcheol x murderer!wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: horror, scream au, gore, smut

Summary: This worn-out little town has seen its fair share of bloodshed, but now there are two new Ghostfaces in town—and their eyes are set on you. Someone who craves intimacy just as much as they enjoy sinking their daggers into something. ✅✅✅

Link

Pairing: Frenemy!fem!reader x minder reader!chan

Genre: supernatural comedy, smut

Summary: If Chan had to read anyone’s mind, it had to be yours—the one person who seemed to loathe him with every ounce of your being. But on Halloween day, when that wish is suddenly granted, he begins to realize he’s opened a can of worms far bigger than he ever imagined—one that can’t be sealed shut again. ✅✅✅

[star-xxx1]

Cervix kisses 18+

Stalker! Pervert! Best friend! Natasha x fem!reader.

Warnings: G!p Natasha, dub-con, Somo, masterbation, a bit of a breeding kink, dom Natasha, praise kink and degradation kink, stalking, pantie stealing, pictures (idk what to call it), groping, mommy kink.

A/n: In order of kinktober, even though I am not doing it I thought I should at least do one, right? Natasha is a lot of things here.

A faint luminescence emanated throughout the void, casting ghostly shadows on the walls and floor. soft, guttural sounds along with heavy panting filled the room. Your name gentle rolling off Natashas tounge as she moved her hand frantically up and down on her thick shaft. The sound of water running and skin slapping echoed in the room, providing a sensual backdrop to Natasha's lewd performance. She continued to watch you through the hidden camera that she had installed In your shower, capturing your evey move.

You hummed to yourself while scrubbing your body with the soapy loofah, having no idea that you were be watched. A pair of your panties were wrapped around Natashas dick as she jerked off to the site of your beautiful body, wishing it were your soft hand instead of hers. You had no clue that they were in the hands of your bestfriend. You thought you had just lost them around the house. Natasha stole them whilst you were sleeping, on one of your many sleepovers you guys enjoyed. She sniffed them before stuffing them into her bag, the smell of your prefect pussy lingering on them causing her strained cock to become even harder.

Her eyes glued to the screen, her hand squeezing her pulsating sex harder. her breathing hitching as she neared climax. she threw her head back into the soft, fluffy pillow with a moan and arched her spine, her orgasm washing over her like a tidal wide. Thick ropes of cum squirting out and drenching your panties. Natasha's body shuddered under the force of her orgasm, eyes squeezed tightly shut as she rode out the intense sensation. Finally, she opened them again, focusing on your figure in the shower once more.

"See you soon, pretty girl." She whispered out, throwing your cum soaked panties to the side. She shut the laptop. Standing up to shower herself, getting ready for the sleepover that you both planned today.

Two hands roughly grabbed your waist. It was the only sensation you could feel. The white soft bedding was nothing compared to Natasha's hands on your body. She pulled you into her front as you wrapped your arm around, entangling your legs together. She kissed your rosy cheek, and you smiled. "What did you love most about today?" Your voice came out smooth as slik.

They was so much to pick out of. The time when you needed help getting your bra off, and you exposed your back to Natasha asking her to unclip it. She pulled you down onto her lap abruptly. She wasn't embarrassed that she knew you could feel her hard on, biting her lip to stifle a moan at the pressure, as she aided you. Or when you bent over numerous times to get stuff out of the counters. Or when you need her help to reach something, she grabbed your hips and lifted you, pining you against the marbel counter with her crotch, whilst her hands roamed up dangerous, close to your plush boobs. Or...

There was just so much that Natasha got to go with you today, being able to touch you in places where you wouldn't allow anyone else to. You and Natasha had a very flirty friendship and were so comfortable with each other. You would pee with the door open, get dressed in front of her, share all your secrets, and she would do all the same back to you. Only if you knew that it only fueled her sexual desire to break you into her toy, dominate you, be your only source of comfort. And even in the friendish zone, she controlled you. It was like you were both obsessed with each other, telling each other every detail. The number of times that you had been mistaken as her girlfriend were astronomical because of how lovey you guys were for 'just friends', but you couldn't lie. You definitely had caught feeling for the redhead, maybe even more...

"I don't have a favourite. I love doing everything with you." She whispered into the cold night air. "Aw, that's sweet and kinda cheesy." You joked out. She chuckled and held you closer. "Good night, sweetheart."

"Good night, Natty." You nuzzled your head into Natashas chest. Her clothed breasts develop your face whole.

Natasha adored your light snores. She found them adorable. Her hand coming down to caress the smooth swell of your ass, which stuck out of your flimsy sleep shorts. 'I bet you're so nice and tight,' she thought to herself, squeezing the soft flesh. She couldn't help but fanitise about you. Your curves and your shape were perfect in Nat's eyes.

"Natasha." The name came tumbling from your mouth In a moan like manner. She stared at you, wondering if you had woken up and felt her rough hands on your ass. But no, you were still fast asleep. "Dreaming about me, princess?" She whispered into your ear, carefully biting it.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and got up for the bed, making sure not to wake you up. Natasha carefully turned you on okay the back, lifting up your shirt. Your pretty pink nipples are standing tall and proud. "So precious." She cooed. She lovingly kissed your breasts valley.

Natasha started taking pictures of your bare breasts, and you cute buds. Your ass too. She couldn't wait to add this to her collection of your body. She had them on her phone to view at any time, pictures on her wall that she took down when you came over, and in scrapbooks. She just loved you very much.

After taking around 30 pictures, she stopped, getting back into the comfy bed and wrapping her arms around you. She stared at your boobs. Her hard on getting painful. "You look so peaceful when sleeping, princess." Her hands ducking into her boxers, pulling out her thick cock.

"Natasha." Came the name out your plump lips again, your unconscious form shifting a bit. "I know, baby, it will all be okay." She fake pouted. Natasha moved your legs apart, settling in between them. Rubbing your clothed pussy.

"I've been waiting so long for you, baby." Natasha dragged the cotton materiel down your legs. Looking down at your panties, she saw the thick layer of slick. your pussy glistening in the moonlight. "A wet dream, huh?" She teased. She came to hover above you, each hand planted firmly beside your head. She stared at your soft face, kissing your forehead. "This is going to be so good doll."

She smirks as she positions her cock at your dripping entrance. With a gentle push, she slides into your wet pussy, filling you up. She groaned and bit her lip to contain herself. Slowly and gently, she begins to thrust into you, her hands running up and down your sides soothingly as she takes you slowly. her breath warm against your neck as she continues her slow, sensual rhythm. The tip of her cock rubs against your sensitive inner walls, causing tiny jolts of pleasure to run through you. You suddenly jolted awake with a loud moan. Natasha's eyes flashed as she saw you wake up, She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered.

"Baby, you're tight." her meaty shaft sending sharp waves of pleasure shooting through your body. "Fuck yes baby, mommy's cock is deep inside you. You feel so good wrapped around me."

You couldn't stop the moans that spilt out of you as the redhead used you for her pleasure. You tried to wiggle away, but her strong hands firmly held you in place. "Natty!" You gasped out as she slapped your thigh. "You can't fucking run slut" her hand came to cover your mouth, preventing your cries. Salty Tears rolled down your face, not from fear, no pleasure. "You promise to be good?" Her hips came to a halt, you let out a loud muffled whine, as you nodded profusely. Natasha laughed at your pathetic little self. her breath warm against your skin. She let go of your face, her fingers moving to play with your nipples gently as she begins building up the intensity as she goes. Your arms go to wrap around her back, holding her close.

Feeling your arms wrap around her, Natasha leans into the embrace, her body flush against yours. Her thrusts become deeper and harder now, pushing herself fully inside you with each stroke. "That's it, baby. Take mommy's big cock." You moans mixed together like a lustful harmony. "Fuck, you feel so good," Natasha groans out, her hips pushing into yours with more force as she hits deep inside you once again. "Mommy loves you, baby girl." She peppered your forehead with kisses as your mind slowly started to drift off into a land full of pleasure.

"I love you too." You whimper out.

"My little cumdump," She smirks, a calculating bossiness lacing her tone. Her hips begin to grind against yours once more, taking control of their shared rhythm. "You're so fucking sexy when you take my cock like this. You want me to fill this pretty pussy with my babies?" Her cock tip perfectly kissing your cervix sending pleasure through out your body as you clawed at her back. "Mommy!" You cried out, her cock nuzzled perfectly into you. Natasha's nails dig into your hips as she leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Her tongue dives into your mouth, exploring and claiming territory as she continues to pound into you. "Letting you best friend fuck you like this? Such a desperate whore." She said looking down at your, with was twisted in pleasure. "Y-your whore." You stutter out. Becoming nothing more but a mindless bitch for the addicting redhead. Natasha chuckles softly as she feels you start to twitch and squirm beneath her, her thrusts becoming more erratic and intense as she nears the edge herself. "That's it, baby. Let mommy watch your pretty face as you cum."

She groans out, her hips bucking wildly as she feels your cum surrounding her cock. Then, with one powerful thrust, she releases herself into you, filling you up with her hot seed as you scream in pleasure. She pants heavily, her body shuddering from the intense orgasm. Her eyes meet yours, filled with satisfaction and love. Natasha smiles softly as she feels your body shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Her hips continue to grind against yours, her cock still buried deep inside you as she rides out her own pleasure. She pulls out of you, leaving your trembling body, your abused cunt sticky with combined fluids. "That was quite the show, baby girl."

"Natasha." You whined out feeling vulnerable after being fucked so harshly by her.

"Shhh." She soothed you.

You felt your pussy gaping, her cum dripping out of you. You whined as you felt your sensitive body begin pulled and up manhandled. She sat you in her lap, your eyes heavily. But before you fell into sweet sleep, you heard your best friends voice. "Can I get a kiss, baby?" You nodded, eyesight hazy. You captured her lips in a sweet, lovingly kiss before falling deep alseep, fucked out. She chuckled and kissed your forehead before lifting up your limp body and taking you to the bathroom. She was going to give you the best aftercare since you were now her perfect princess. Well, you always were.

How do we feel about this? Please give feedback and reblog. I hope you enjoyed <3

[astermagnolia]

My Stalkers and Cryptids Soulmate Au headcanons

Danny Fenton Nightingale

• Danny played football (aka soccer) when be was young. It didnt last very long and though he enjoyed it, it wasnt something he wanted to do

• Danny refers to his friends and chosen family as "his humans". Wes, Tim, and Bernard get added to this list. While in phantom form he uses the term Fraid.

• Hes trans (ftm) and goes by They/He. Hes also biromantic asexual

- he started transitioning when he was 12/13.

-Flash stopped bullying him for a week and then went back to pushing him around but used the right pronouns. Paulina and the others yell at Flash if he ever misgenders or deadnames Danny and even apologizes to Danny for it. (Danny finds it extremely strange but amusing)

• In college he majors in aerospace engineering and astrophysics and minors in astronomy

- he took a break for a year with Wes before enrolling into college. They traveled the U.S sightseeing and went to the most "haunted" places in America.

• Danny is fluent in spanish because he wanted to impress Paulina. Eventually, he just wanted to learn the language

- after he died, he knows all the dead/no longer spoken languages

• Danny has his ears, eyebrows, and tongue pierced.

- Danny got his ear pierced first with Sam and Tucker (and wes joined to watch). He liked how it looked and got other piercings after

• Danny gets little to no sleep. Since hes half dead his needs are halfed.

- he tends to forget that he still needs to sleep, eat, etc. So Bernard and Wes worry about him

• danny was terrified of telling Tim and Bernard about his deathday after they found out about phantom.

- His lichtenberg scars glow and hes in absolute pain. Not only that, he gets incredibly clingy to his humans.

• his love language is touch, acts of service, and gift giving (creating things and giving them to his humans)

• he has different ghostly forms.

- his regular phantom form. His ghost prince (future king) form. His space Eldritch form . And finally, what his friends like to call, little baby man form (he rarely used this form and usually when hes low on ectoplasm and tired but not enough to turn back into a human.)

• danny is still a bit uncomfortable with his body and what changes have occurred so the others always try to be there for him

• he gave his partners celestial/star pet names

• animals that are generally associated with Death flock to Danny and are chill with him

- Danny likes to joke that this is why the batfamily likes him so much. Damian is absolutely jealous that crows, raven, owls and other such animals like Danny.

• despite being 6'3, he loves to curl up on his partner's lap

• he doesn't quite like mouth kisses (he'll give them here and there but not a lot) and prefers cheek and head kisses.

• hes shit at cooking and is kinda afraid to stay in the kitchen for long periods of time but he knows how to bake. His fudge (that his dad taught him) is the absolute bomb. He makes his fudge on special occasions

• he gets phantom pains on his arm and migraines sometimes, usually when he gets shocked or reminded of his death in detail. Wes, who's dealt with it, knows what to do. Tim, being a vigilante, understands these pains and Bernard helps in the background

• danny learns how to ride a motorcycle through Johnny and, despite how Johnny acts, makes sure to give Danny a rundown of bike safety

- Wes hates the bike due to his fear of vehicles. He always tells Danny to be safe when he goes out for a ride

• Funnily enough, Danny is allergic to dogs. Not extremely, the fur just causes him to sneeze so danny finds it funny that Cujo chose him as his owner.

• he never really put importance on his soulmarks (tattoos) since the fentons weren't soulmates but he did love to look at them.

- when he was a kid, he liked to imagine what kind of people his soulmates were. Tim's was a camera, Bernards is a pin, and Wes's is a magnifying glass.

• Bernard adores Danny's freckles especially when they glow

[flwrkid14]

Letters in Green Ink: Phantom's Footsteps on Gotham's Rooftops

Tim Drake was no stranger to paranoia. It was practically a job requirement in Gotham. But this? This was getting weird.

It started small: the feeling of being watched on rooftops, a shadow a little too close. Harmless, at first. But then the sticky notes began.

Random, anonymous sticky notes. Clues he’d missed. Addresses for gang hideouts. Details on corrupt businessmen.

He found one on his motorcycle seat. Another on the Batcomputer. A bright green note scrawled with:

“Check the docks. Midnight.”

Tim had learned to trust his gut, and his gut was screaming: This is not normal.

---------------

Meanwhile, in another corner of Gotham:

Danny Fenton was hovering invisibly above a warehouse, nervously biting his lip. He was shaking. Not because he was scared of Gotham’s criminals. Nope. The real danger? Red Robin’s eyes.

Danny: internal screaming 'Why did I think this was a good idea?'

Also Danny: hovering invisibly above Tim, whispering to himself: “Okay, Danny. You’re helping. You’re useful. He doesn’t need to know you’re a stalker. A cool stalker. Like a… guardian angel! Yes. Totally fine. Not creepy at all.”

---------------

Tim, mid-stakeout, could feel the eyes. Again. He spun around, batarang ready. Nothing. Just empty shadows. The wind.

He scowled. “Alright, whoever you are. You’re getting annoying.”

---------------

Danny floated a few rooftops away, clutching his chest. “Oh my god, he spoke. And he’s mad. Why is that hot?”

He watched as Red Robin took down three thugs single-handedly. His fighting was brutal, efficient. Danny, invisible and swooning, whispered: “He’s so cool.”

---------------

The next night: a bust gone sideways. Tim found himself cornered by more goons than expected, already calculating the least-bad injury. Then, out of nowhere, a ghostly chill swept through the alley.

Blowtorch thug? Frozen solid.

Gunman? Knocked out cold.

And there, floating in the moonlight, glowing white hair and intense green eyes: Phantom.

Tim’s eyes narrowed. “You. You’re the one who’s been—”

Phantom blinked, stammered, “Uh, gotta go!” and vanished like a startled deer.

---------------

Back in his lair (aka an abandoned Gotham clocktower because aesthetic™️), Danny spiraled. “He saw me. He saw me! Oh god, why did I freeze that guy? Cool guys don’t freeze goons.”

Jazz’s voice in his head: “Danny, you have to stop.”

Danny: “I CAN’T, JAZZ. HE’S TOO PRETTY.”

---------------

Tim was in full detective mode. Batman-level scowling. “Phantom. Ghost powers. Clearly interested in my cases. Why?”

He scanned the city. Ran searches. No results.

But the sticky notes kept coming.

“Check the East End warehouse. 10pm.”

“Watch out for the armored guy. He has backup.”

Tim didn’t know what was more frustrating: the lack of information, or the fact that Phantom was always right.

---------------

Finally, one night, Tim cornered him. Literally. Phantom turned a corner and smacked into Red Robin. Hard.

Tim crossed his arms. “Alright. Talk.”

Danny, blushing so hard his glow flickered. “Uh… hi.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “Why are you following me?”

Danny, brain short-circuiting: “I LIKE YOUR… uh, CAPE.”

Tim blinked. “My cape.”

Danny nodded furiously. “It’s… cool. Flowy.”

Tim stared. Silence stretched. Then: “You’re helping me.”

Danny swallowed. “Um. Yeah?”

Tim’s voice softened. “Why?”

Danny, panicking, blurted: “Because I like you!”

---------------

Silence.

Tim’s brain: Error 404.

Danny: contemplating phasing into the floor.

Finally, Tim sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You… are the most chaotic stalker I’ve ever had.”

Danny, grinning nervously: “So, um. Friends?”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “We’ll start with coworkers.”

---------------

Danny, flying away, fist-pumping in the air: “He didn’t say no!”

Tim, watching him go, muttering: “I need coffee. And maybe an exorcist.”

[lockandkeyblade]

First Rule of Ghost Fight Club

Chapter 1: Game Time (Aim High)

The public may as well have cheered their way through his favorite singer escaping his longtime stalker by the skin of his teeth. No one else seemed to know, or care. Hell, if they did, could they even do anything about it?

Jason could. Jason had guns. Lots of guns. And the willpower to hunt a motherfucker down, before that siren’s song got silenced for good.

Or; What do ghostly lofi beats, a resolve to murder Plasmius, becoming the right hand of a king, and finding the one person who perfectly encapsulates your greatest Obsession have in common?

For Jason Todd? Everything.

Based off this drabble.

[vrfinalgirl]

CUPIDS KINKTOBER 2024 !!

welcome to cupids first kinktober!! I’m so so excited to do this and it’s going to span over all three of my accounts !! @suneslvr @cupids-archives #requests are open 😇

current hyper fixations are, dc, mha, lmk, black myth wukong, creepypasta/slashers, degrees of lewdity, boyfriend to death(1+2)/tpof, scp, & genshin impact! If I don’t get a request for a specific day the default would be one of these fandoms. 💉 submission rules!

(all of these could be customized!)

₊˚♱ ━ October 1rst -- MONSTER?

🩸: your laying in bed on Halloween night. The air is cold and your bedroom is even colder. As you lure yourself asleep, you hear a ghostly sound coming from your closet!

💉: (stalker x fem!reader, stalking, dub/non-con, death threats, choking, and size kink.)

🔪: OPEN

₊˚♱ ━ October 5th — MR. SANDMAN!

🩸: your dreams are constantly plagued by a pale figure. Soon these dreams start to become a reality. Will you wake up before he catches you?

💉 : (dream-spirit x fem!reader, coercion, dub-con, overstim, dream-fucking, somnophilia.)

🔪 : OPEN

₊˚♱ ━ October 10th — DRACULA!

🩸: As a lonely adventurer you wander the 1800s Europeans streets looking for treasure and lost artifacts, soon you come across a castle with everything you’ve ever wanted, little do you know about the secret that lies above.

💉: (sealed! monster x fem! reader, dub- con, blood play, religious text, monsterfucking, hallucinations, happy ending(?))

🔪: OPEN

₊˚♱ ━ October 15th — LOVE POTION.

🩸: you come back to town after a long vacation. Every person you come across has this love crazed look in their eye? You rush to return home after getting cornered by people you’ve thought were your friends? what’s gotten into everyone?!

💉: (threesomes, overstim, breeding, possessiveness, aphrodisiacs, mentions of non-con, and dub-con)

🔪: OPEN

₊˚♱ ━ October 20th — SERIAL KILLER!

🩸: An odd alert shows up on your phone? A serial killer has escaped! and it’s—? … soon you start to receive calls and messages from an unknown number. will you be the sadistic killers new victim?

💉: (knife play, dub-con to consenting, threats, mentions of murder/gore, mentions of rape.)

🔪 : OPEN

₊˚♱ ━ October 25th — THE CONJURING.

🩸: Series of people in your town have been found in massive murder-suicides. Some believe the small- time life finally got to them. others an otherworldly demon.

💉: (possession, mutual masturbation, monsterfucking, suicide/murder mention, dub-con)

🔪: OPEN

₊˚♱ ━ October 30th — UNDER LOCK AND KEY!

🩸: you and your friend are invited to a Halloween party! Unfortunately the two of you get lost on the way there, however an old timely couple picks you up and allows you to stay for the weekend. Everything seems to get along quite nicely, except for the screaming you hear in the basement.

💉: (mentions of incest, gang-banging, corruption, cockwarming, cannibalism, brat taming,dacraphilia, drug use)

🔪: OPEN

₊˚♱ ━ OCTOBER 31RST — HALLOWEEN.

—- CHOOSE YOUR KINK. + YOUR CHARACTER!

🔪: OPEN. 🔪: OPEN. 🔪: OPEN

[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.

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