#how i miss the wintertime

[rabbitsrams]

i have this feeling that schlatt is extremely warm all the time, like if you sit next to him you can feel the heat coming off him. very good for cuddling when its cold tho!! -Kasey

no kasey bc ur so right,,,

wintertime cuddles are always the best bc he’s so warm and he holds you extra close if you’re extra cold🥹

and if ur waiting outside for a bus or smthn, he always makes sure to hug you close so you’re not freezing your ass off

loving to cling onto him to keep warm and him teasing you about it.

“are you huggin’ me just to keep yourself warm?”

“no!” he gives you a look. “partly. it’s also because i love you, dipshit.”

also if your hands get cold easily he always holds them between his hands to warm you up. (as someone who’s hands get cold easily this is a need)

[mithomite]

curtains

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Gem is a deer hybrid, and when she joined Hermitcraft she completely forgot to mention that her antlers would just. fall off her head once the weather got chilly enough. In her defense, it's so normal to her that she forgot it wasn't normal in the slightest to any of her new friends in the Hermitcraft server. But she definitely freaked some people out.

The first one fell when she was sparring with Etho. He stabbed, she ducked, his sword caught her antler and took it off in one clean swoop. While Etho is standing there in shock and horror because as far as he knows that is not supposed to happen and he just severely injured his dear friend, Gem gets up, thanks him for dealing with that for her, it was getting kinda itchy and they're gonna drop either way, y'know? might as well make it fun, and asks if he can help her adjust her hair to cover up that awkward little bald spot. Etho does, and then later goes home wondering if the whole thing was a fucked-up fever dream or maybe Gem is just a masochist. Gem goes home thinking that Etho might not know that much about deer.

The second one she might have been actively trying to get rid of, because it's just really weird to be walking around with only one antler. It feels all lopsided, and the other hermits are looking at her funny, probably because of how weird it looks. (They're wondering if she got a haircut or something, or did she always look like that? They can't even tell what's missing from her appearance but something looks off). She knows all the doorways in Grian's midnight alley are fairly Grian-sized (read: short), so she agrees to the tour with the assumption that her antler will knock against a doorway or a low-hanging lantern and fall right off. Which is exactly what happens. Grian, who at that point has been awake for 36 hours and may be missing his entire soul, thanks to Mumbo, decides that such a thing isn't even worth dedicating any of his sparse and precious brainpower to. Gem realizes that Grian is not in any state to be giving tours or building or being awake, and reports him to Pearl. The next few people, Pearl included, that Gem sees all give her the same confused-freaked-out look. Gem chalks it up to them getting used to her winter look.

Once Gem realizes why everybody has been freaking out, (which takes a while in it's own right, since the hermits are too polite to just come right up and ask her where the hell her antlers went) she stands up at the next Hermitcraft meeting to explain that deer drop their antlers in the wintertime, and they'll grow back in the spring, and she's fine, it's like how kids lose their baby teeth and grow new ones, except she does this every year. (Cut to: Gem explaining to about 15 vaguely mortified hermits, that, yeah, in most species, young kids teeth fall out of their heads one by one and are replaced by stronger teeth. this is normal. please stop looking at her like that. it's normal.)

Completely normal! I wonder if she ever uses the shed antlers as decoration?

[factual-fantasy]

29 Asks! :DD Thank you! :}}📦

@holly-opal @tallchest13-blog

There was not a single thing I liked about the trailer. Not a single thing.

Not the visuals, not the hinted at Jumanji style story, not the casting, I hated all of it. The thing I hated the most was Jack Black being casted as Steve. 💀

I hated his voice for Bowser, I hate him playing as Steve. Sooooo much hatred and disappointment for this trailer 💀💀💀

AAAAA THANK YOU!! :))))))

I have made my own version of Tarr! :D They are not intended to be cute 💀

Soft? :0

I haven't heard of it <:0 google seems to suggest its a Roblox game..?

@spirited-splashes

AAAA IM GLAD TO HEAR IT!! :DDDD TEAM PLATONIC!!! :))))

@pokefan250

I'm pretty 50/50- I GOT THE 8 WINS IN FALL GUYS JUST HOURS BEFORE THE CHALLANGE ENDED SO THAT MADE ME HAPPYbut then my health came back to bite me and I had a very scary health day :x sooo.....

Other than Barnaby's mom living out on a big farm away from the neighborhood- I don't actually have many ideas! <:D

And I had no plans for the neighbors to have cars.. but now I'm thinking of giving Eddie a cute little mail car :))

Yeah I wouldn't use the word "miss"... miss makes me feel like home cares about Wally in a tender way and wants him to come back because it cares about him.. that's not quite the right vibe..

Home doesn't want Wally to leave, and it wants him to come back when he's gone.. but that's the only way I'd word it. Kind'a cold and with unknown intentions..

Also thank you so much!! :DDD

The timing if this is quite humorous. (I spent the last week making 10+ frog plushies)

@pewpewae

I imagine out of all the neighbors, Poppy and Barnaby would have the most knowledge on basic first aid and home remedies. Considering they both grew up way out in the sticks, you're bound to get hurt or sick and not have anyone nearby to help you. So they learned from their parents how to take care of themselves or others when they're unwell :))

If someone is injured or sick though, I can imagine that it might stress Poppy out to come running to her screaming- so people probably turn to Barnaby for those sorts of things <XD

I thought that Howdy gets up early and comes home late. So out of all the neighbors, Sally gets to spend the most time with him because he's almost always awake and out and about! :)

Howdy is also always on the move- doing things around the shop and working. Usually most neighbors cant follow him around from job to job fast enough- but Sally can! :)) She's been able to get to know him really well and they get along like two peas in a pod!

Howdy is witty and quick with his responses. He rarely stutters, so these two can just chatter away for hours and hours!

When it comes to worrying about him,, it is just the cold thing. But Howdy "not liking the cold" only scratches the surface of it. Howdy practically shuts down in the winter time, ALL the neighbors worry about him..

In the wintertime, Howdy is one lullaby away from collapsing on the floor and falling asleep 💀 the cold completely destroys his energy.. Also he's constantly hungry. He really slows down and starts running into things, forgetting things, sleeping in and being really hard to wake up.. <:/ and he gets sick pretty often in the winter so he's just not having a good time-

Huh, I've never seen anyone take that direction with Ingo! :0

@anewbieartist356

HELOOOO!! :}}}}}}}

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :)) IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE HIM! :}}}}}}

And yeah, his hair probably take a few hours to braid and I bet bedhead is his worst yet more common nightmare 💀

(Referencing this post)

WARHHRGG SOBBS LOUDLLYYY!!! 😭😭💞💞THANOYU SO MUCH!!! 🥹🥹🥹💞💞💞💞

@abaroo

I feel like unless Home deliberately interacted with Barnaby and wanted him to know its alive, he would never suspect Home to be a living entity. Barnaby assumes that Wally has bad anxiety and its amplified when he's alone.. thus inviting him over to his house just to get out of his own home for a bit, or spending the night at Wally's house..

Barnaby has stayed over at Wally's house a lot and Home watches him too.. but in the end Barnaby chalks up the weird feelings he gets to just the worry over Wally..

I've never played the game, but I love it :) the fandom can be a real pain sometimes..

Currently I'm only really drawing/thinking of the base Unovan pokédex, not the pokédex from black 2 and white 2. (There are some select exceptions to this)

Mostly because the second dex is HUGE. And because Pokémon white was the game I grew up playing- so that's the one I wanna pull the Pokémon from. Ngl though, I might not be able to resist incorporating Metagross from the second dex.. 👀👀

Also my violet team wont make any canon cameos, but I did draw a doodle of Grim and V as slimes! :}}

@holly-opal

AAAA THANK YOU!! :DDDD

Meow meow! :))

(Thank you! I wish the same for you! :} )

@minnesotamedic186 (Referencing this post)

AAAA THANKYIU!! :))) I have a couple ideas for them but I'm having a hard time writing them out 😔

@msdamneighty

AAA I LUB YOU TOO! :))))))

@neo-metalscottic

Hello! I've unfortunately not been doing well health wise.. this week has been a rough patch.. but I'm hangin in there as best I can! <:) The fam says hi! XDDD

As for your questions, the fam has been blessed with never being too cold or too hot. So they probably like the winter time because that's when I'm at my happiest :)) I've never given them snow- but I'm sure they'd love to play in it! And yes, Gerald absolutely desires to A-pose out on the garden XDDDD

I typically play as Pit or Metakight. As for the others, I wonder..

Maybe Bibi would play as Luigi, Cici as Bowser, Jangles as Peach and Gerald as Wario XD

Also thank you for the ask! :DD I look forward to your next one but no pressure! :)))))

@littlelightfish

Its very rare that anyone from the crew hides their illness.. If someone hid an illness that's a big no no because they can infect other members of the crew. Plus it's really easy to tell if they're sick-

Also thankfully, (aside from Octo that one time-) no one really hides injuries. If the wound is in an embarrassing spot and need help, they'll probably just get the crewmate they are most comfortable with to help them..

I think Tuna only has that gnarly hook hand, he doesn't have anything else to put on in its place 💀

I can imagine when he first got his prosthetic arm he probably hurt himself on it once or twice <:( eventually he got used to it though and didn't hurt himself anymore-

Who made his prosthetic arm.. hmm.. I kind'a imagined he put it together himself.. Hence why it looks impractical and dangerous 💀

I didn't have plans for him to miss anyone... perhaps his mother but she's gone.. at least he doesn't miss anyone from his old crew.

After a battle/conflict on the ship, the very first thing Tuna does is go looking for Ellie..🥺

I imagine rolls are Tunas favorite food because he's kind of a picky eater. So some beautifully made plain bread rolls are hard to beat! :))

I didn't intend for Red to have any siblings,, his family was mostly his rotten mom and dad. :(

I think Coco and Cuttlefish get along better than you might think! :)) They're both rather sassy and have a lot of the same opinions. Other than Tuna, there isn't anyone that Coco butts-heads with :))

Due to the varying body types, the crew typically doesn't steal each others clothes 😅 but I can see Red stealing Coco's coats and boots from time to time 🥺

I haven't thought much about Ellies family.. perhaps she lived with her cruddy uncle before running off with Octo and Seafoam? :0

Thankfully like you said- other than Octo, nobody's gotten hurt so badly they thought they'd lose them. <:)

I'm afraid I don't Understand that question about Red.. D:> But Blue Beauty's favorite food is probably krill! :0

And lastly, WAAHGRGGT THANOUU SO MUCH FOR THE ASKS SND INTEREST IN MY OCSSS!!!😭😭💞💞💞

@loud-kid2

While I have no plans to add E. Gadd to my AU, I have made my own version of King Boo! :))

Aww! I still need to work on Julies sisters, but I can see this being the direction I lean towards! :))

Wally would probably stay home and try to just recover.. but if Home his illness starts making his anxiety/paranoia way worse- I can see Barnaby staying over for a few nights to take care of him. Perhaps even bringing Wally to his house if he thinks it might help- :0

[anyarose011]

One More Reason to Control Myself {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Angus Tully knows she's hiding something. Why else would she lie about where she was the morning of Christmas Eve?

Part 5 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, period typical sexism, and mention of exploitation of a minor.

We get an Angus POV chapter, motherfuckaas!! I had fun writing from his perspective while also giving him a little more backstory as well. Also, considering I want to try and eliminate the Y/N effect, anytime there's a she or her (italicized) it's you, dear reader. Shoutout to me forgetting there was a character named Danny in the movie, so I have to cover my ass for naming the creep "Daniel". Also, part 2 of an Angus/Reader coded song (what do you mean it breaks my heart? No it doesn't!)

Word Count: 7.1k

“So, why’d you miss supper last night, and why is little miss Jane Bennet missing breakfast now too?”

That was what Mary asked Angus and Paul Hunham at Christmas Eve breakfast. Mr. Hunham glanced around, trying not to show his nerves, but failed. “Oh, we went into town on some uh, school-related business. As for my daughter…I do not know; she wasn’t there when I woke up, have you seen her, Angus?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

Mary hummed. The door opened, and in came Danny, the janitor who, even in the below freezing temperatures of winter, somehow almost had a smile on his face. Carrying in a mop and bucket, he greeted. “Good morning, everybody.”

“Good morning,” Mary pointed to the kitchen. “you can go on in and fix yourself a plate.”

He nodded. “I just saw something funny. I walked into the gym, and someone had vomited in there.”

Angus stilled as he drank his orange juice. Mary looked at him and Mr. Hunham, and the two of them looked at each other.

“You don’t say,” it was Paul who spoke first. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Angus answered loosely.

“No, uh, I’ll look into that right away. Thank you.”

Mary raised one of her brows. “I see how it is.”

Danny shook his head, walked over to Angus, and placed the bucket and mop by him before walking away. “You’re out your mind.”

Angus sighed, fiddling with the eggs on his plate. It had been a week of a frozen hell for him (perhaps not so bad…he made a friend. A friend who, despite there being billions of nerves in the body, she still managed to get on every single one of them; yet, he knows he does the same to her). Still, as Christmas Eve was supposed to be a time of excitement for the holidays, Angus Tully felt nothing of the sort.

He had no idea if it was because he was getting older, or because his father wouldn’t be there after Christmas mass, carrying him out of the car when he pretended to fall asleep.

Maybe it’s because he didn’t live in the same house anymore where the Christmases he used to love took place…

Fortunately, his moments of wintertime dread were gone once the doubles doors from the outside were opened. He watched as Mr. Hunham’s daughter entered, pulling off her gloves and unwrapping the scarf that was brought up over her hair and around her neck.

“And where were you?” Mary was the first to interrogate, sitting beside Angus, still smoking her cigarette.

She smiled, approaching the table. “Out.”

“Out where?” Her father then questioned.

Chuckling, the girl pulled out a chair by her father and sat down, taking an orange of the fruit basket, peeling it. “Just on a walk. I gotta clear my head from you people sometimes.”

Mr. Hunham shook his head, not necessarily shocked by her response, but still bewildered. “Clear your-? How long were you out?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I woke up around seven-thirty, read for a bit, then went out. So…maybe eight? Not for long, that’s for sure.”

Angus knew she was lying. He didn’t mean to peek into her room when he woke up (genuinely he didn’t, no matter what anyone says). Even though Mr. Hunham decided not to wake everyone up at the crack of dawn since Angus was the only holdover, the boy’s internal clock wouldn’t let him sleep in. So, the first thing he needed to do was go to the bathroom, and as he passed by the doorway to her room, she wasn’t there.

He didn’t think anything of it until he was eating breakfast at eight-thirty, and he still didn’t see her.

“I see.” Her father furrowed his brow, but then shrugged, going back to lunch. “Well, please at least eat something other than fruit.”

She took the whole bowl. “But it’s the candy of the good ol’ days.”

“And what are the good ol’ days?” Mary huffed,

“Ancient Rome and Greece,” she popped a grape into her mouth. “also when women had less rights than they do now.”

Angus snorted, trying to then cover up his amusement with a cough. He didn’t find women not having rights funny (please believe him), it was just unexpected of her to say. Still, he felt all eyes on him, and refused to meet any of them as he picked up a piece of bacon.

He likes to think Mr. Hunham’s daughter was smiling at him when she stood up. “Fine, I’ll get real food.”

She went to the kitchen to grab a plate, and Mary hummed. “Never thought I’d see that girl ever be happy this early in the morning.”

Angus finally looked up. “She usually isn’t?”

Mary smirked, placing her cigarette between her lips. “I don’t think you’d last a day with her if you were both ten.”

There was nothing else to do after Mr. Hunham lectured Angus for an hour about the aqueducts in Rome. What was usually two and a half hours was only one, since the teacher claimed: “I’m feeling a little generous because of the season.”

Not because he wanted to drink alone in Dr. Woodrup’s office reading mystery novels (Don’t be ridiculous).

So, that brought Angus Tully back up to the infirmary, to do what, who fucking knows? He glanced into the other room and saw Mr. Hunham’s daughter laying on the middle bed, reading. When she looked up, sensing his presence, he instinctively hid behind the corner.

“You don’t have to be creepy anymore.” She spoke with the sarcasm he knew so well. “We’re friends, remember?”

Angus, playing it cool, entered the room, leaning against the wall. “Who says I was ever creepy to begin with?”

“I did.” She placed a bookmark in her book before setting it down and sitting up. “And you know, ordinary people just enter a room; they usually don’t bother checking.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “maybe you’ve convinced me there are ghosts here and I just want to be safe?”

Not because he was hoping she was in her room and had a reason to go talk to her (Don’t be ridiculous).

She rolled her eyes yet smiled anyway. “Took you long enough to figure out I’m always right.”

“I said ‘maybe’. What’re you reading?”

“Just now or in general?”

“Yes.”

She held up The Two Towers. “You ever read Tolkien?”

Angus sat on the spare bed across from her. “I read The Hobbit my freshman year; one of the only books I liked reading in school.”

His eyes fell to the stack of books on her nightstand. Little Women, Sense and Sensibility, Giovanni’s Room, andThe Count of Monte Cristo.  

“You’ve read all of these?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah.” She then pointed to The Count of Monte Cristo on the bottom. “Well, I actually tried to read this one when I was fourteen but got bored with it; I’m trying again.”

“Right after you reread everything else?”

“Shut up.”

She tried to sound serious, but he watched as she turned her head to try and hide her smile. He wasn’t ashamed to show her his. Angus’ eyes went back to the stack of books, and he took out Little Women, flipping to the first page.

“‘Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents.’ Grumbled Jo.” He read aloud, then looked up from the book. “Now I know why Mr. Hunham calls you that.”

“Are you saying I’m selfish, Fitzwilliam?”

He shook his head, going back to reading. “No, you just complain a lot.”

She scoffed. “Just wait until you meet Amy. I love her, but I’m glad I don’t have sisters.”

Angus’ didn’t respond, his eyes trailing over the words on the pages. He didn’t truly know why he kept reading; whether it was out of boredom, or perhaps he was already hooked on the story, he would never tell.

“Wait,” he heard her. “are you still reading?”

“Damnit, you made me miss my spot.” He glared at her.

She already knew he didn’t mean it (that much). Still, the girl giggled, laying back down on the bed and opening The Two Towers, going back to her own reading. They were like that for ten minutes perhaps? It was a strange time that went by fast and slow. No, Angus Tully wasn’t even doing this to think of what to say to her, he was genuinely engrossed by Louisa May Alcott.

Then, it was when he was more than half-way done with the first chapter, that he asked. “Where were you this morning?”

She looked over at him. “I’m guessing you hate the book?”

“Don’t change the subject.” He sat up. “And no, it’s actually tolerable.”

“Tolerable for it being written by a woman?” She sat up as well. “And for your information, I just went to the woods. What, were you worried about me or something?”

“Maybe…I don’t know, maybe.” Were the only thoughts behind his eyes, but his mouth moved differently.

“No. Wait, you’re walking around the woods, and you’re calling me creepy?”

“What’s so creepy about walking around the woods by myself?” She questioned. “If there was someone following me, then they would be creepy, dumbass.”

“I’m just saying, I don’t know anyone who spends their time frolicking through the woods for fun.”

“You didn’t really know anyone, but neither did I, so we’re even.” She stood up, going to the window to look out of it. “I also prefer frolicking through flower fields, but this isn’t the best season for that.”

Angus hummed. “Yeah, I noticed.”

He debated on asking her why she was out there for an hour and a half; if she was in the woods, or if she was even outside. Just as he was battling with himself and wondering how to ask her without her biting his head off, he saw her tremble.

“Are you okay?” Was the first thing he asked.

“Come over here.” She commanded without looking at him.

He stood up immediately, and as he was halfway to the window, she giggled; a sound he had heard before but…not like this, somehow. Angus stood beside her at the window and watched as Mr. Hunham walked on the sidewalk by the quad, stretching.

“Look at that sad, little man.” She tisked.

Angus asked without looking away. “You talk about your dad like that?”

“You would too if he was yours.”

“Point made.”

They watched as the teacher picked up a stray football on the ground, and with perhaps the worst technique ever, threw it. Both she and Angus, as if her father would see them in the window, backed away from it, laughing at the absurdity.

“I almost feel bad now.” She said through her enjoyment. “That’s a lie, I don’t.”

Her honesty only caused Angus to laugh even more, and he can’t remember when the last time it was he had ever laughed this much. Especially over something so stupid.

“Well, it’s obvious he didn’t play football in high school.” He said.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “he’d go on and on about being president of Latin and Chess club.”

That’s where Angus’ amusement ceased. Even if it was at his own expense, he didn’t mind it at all since he could see just how wide her smile could get.

“Angus Tully, don’t tell me-.”

“-What’s wrong with Chess club?”

“I knew it!” She pointed at him. “You nerd!”

“You’re the one that knows all of Roman history and mythology like the back of your hand, and you’re calling me a nerd?!” He teased.

The girl snorted, crossing her arms. “Not all of it.”

“Yes, you do.”

“So why have I lost to you twice now?”

 “I just got lucky.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

“I’m serious!” He tried to brighten the strange air that settled in the room. “Your dad didn’t drill it into you for nothing.”

 “Yeah, you’re right about that.” She hummed, sitting back on the bed. “So, you’re good at chess?”

He shrugged, taking a risk and sitting next to her (with about two feet of space of course). “I guess so. My…my dad taught me how to play, and I never beat him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, nearly losing himself in the memory. “I was like nine when this snowstorm hit, I was out of school for almost a week, and my dad and I just played the whole time.”

“So, you played without bathroom breaks, and you still didn’t win?”

“Okay, smartass.”

She smiled. “My dad tried teaching me chess and he beat me every time too.”

“You still play?”

“Hell no.”

“Why not?”

“I always cussed at my him whenever I lost, so probably not a good idea to keep going.”

Angus snickered. “How old were you?”

“Seven.”

“You were cussing at seven?”

“He was an asshole!”

“Yeah, I’ve met him.”

It was almost horrifying how her face dropped at his comment. One where it was like the words themselves shocked her. Then, before Angus could fully register what had just happened, she was laughing.

“Sorry,” she shook her head. “I’m just imaging what you looked like as a kid.”

He tried to laugh it off with her, but that odd tension crept its way back in. “I was weird.”

“So was I. You should’ve seen me when I was twelve, my father drilling Roman knowledge into my head, proclaiming how, if I wanted to be better than all of the boys in my class, I had to work for it.” She grinned. “It’s like he tried to make me a small version of him, which was impossible from the start.”

Angus nodded, not exactly knowing how to respond. “Yeah?”

“Of course.” She shrugged. “Well, he doesn’t mean to, but I feel like he sometimes forgets I might want to wear ribbons in my hair, put on makeup, girly things like that that I almost called stupid, but they’re not. But could you imagine it? My father wearing makeup and…okay, he doesn’t have much hair for ribbons, but you get it.”

“I do.” He smiled.

She nodded, and they fell into another beat of silence. It was almost a competition as to who would speak first, and in the end, she surprisingly lost. She stood up from the bed.

“I uh…I promised Mary I’d help her in the kitchen.” She walked backwards. “You’re more than welcome to keep reading my ‘tolerable’ books written by women.”

Angus hummed, trying to shake off her abrupt exit. “Yeah, I got nothing else better to do. Maybe I’ll meet you downstairs and keep harassing you?”

“Yeah sure.”

With that, she turned on her heel and scurried out of the infirmary. Angus always found her to be strange; from the moment she stepped into Mr. Hunham’s classroom in September, to her just then. Still, it was a strangeness he couldn’t help but be intrigued by. Not the same as how a scientist would study a foreign species but…he had grown quite fond of her.

He already had a liking for her that first day he met her (despite her harsh and course attitude towards the others in class). Not a liking enough to have it be a crush per say (he was still annoyed with her). Then, the whole catastrophe of him being stuck with her over Christmas break only added fuel to a fire.

A fire that has both warmed and burned him all at once.

What kind of shit was he going on about? He read half of a chapter from Little Women, and now look at him!

Not knowing what else to do with himself, Angus slid The Count of Monte Cristo out from the bottom of the stack of books. It had been one of his favorites as a kid; ironic in both a sense that he read it as a child, but also his mother of all people recommended it to him. Before he could even flip it to the first page, he saw a small gap in the middle as if there was a bookmark. He opened it and found a letter; an already opened letter.

Angus’ blood ran cold at the sight of it, and as he took it onto his hands, he turned it over. It was addressed to her, and the stamp was a toy train. He had only gotten a glance at the first letter when Teddy stole it, and he recognized the stamp.

Sighing, it almost felt like the envelope was burning in his hand as he hunched over himself. He could’ve read it…it was right there, and it was already opened so it’s not like she would’ve ever known.

But he would’ve. And he knew there was no going back if he read whatever Daniel wrote to her, and even if it wasn’t bad (how could it not be), then he knew she’d be able to sniff him out like a rat that he’d read it.

Wait…Daniel…Danny…The janitor.

“Shit!” Angus hissed, almost falling off the bed, then sprinting out of the infirmary and running blindly though the school he has gone to for months.

He ran outside without a jacket on, looking around for Mr. Hunham. When he already saw his fingers beginning to turn white in a matter of a minute, he ran back into the school and navigated the halls as if he were a bat out of hell.

It took him quite literally running into Mr. Hunham for him to finally stop.

“God almighty, Mr. Tully!” He gasped. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Angus, trying to catch his breath, said. “Mr. Hunham, I have to tell you something.”

Immediately upon noticing his distress, the teacher’s harsh demeanor and voice dropped. “Well…alright, what is it?”

“Can-.” He looked around, feeling suddenly exposed in the hallway. “Can we do this somewhere else?”

“Sure, sure.” Mr. Hunham nodded, looking around as well until his eyes landed on the first door he saw. “Let’s uh, is there fine?”

“Yeah.”

They both entered into a classroom that neither had been in before. It was smaller in size, more than likely meant for honor’s classes, but it looked like it hadn’t been dusted since the beginning of the year when parent’s would visit. When the door was shut, Mr. Hunham turned back to him.

“Now, what’s going on?”

Angus said her name. “Someone’s been sending her letters.”

“What kind of letters?” He asked, his face a mix of confusion and even a hint of denial.

“I…” Angus looked down at the one he had in hand and held it out to the teacher. Mr. Hunham took it, slipping his reading glasses out of his pocket. Angus continued. “Someone named Daniel sent her one days ago, Kountze stole it and read it aloud to everyone back in the woods. I think it’s Danny, the janitor.”

The moment he said ‘Daniel’, he’d already seen Mr. Hunham’s entire demeanor change. He saw him visibly tense, as he read the letter what must have been a million times. As time stood still in the dingy classroom, the teacher swallowed thickly.

“You said she got another letter a few days ago? Where is it?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head.

“Mr. Kountze read it aloud, what exactly did it say?”

“I…” Angus paused, trying to remember just what was written so he wouldn’t miss a thing, “He asked her to send a picture of herself to him, and wished her a Merry Christmas. He sent her thirty-five dollars too; did he send more?”

Mr. Hunham shook his head, obviously bewildered at the amount of money. “No, he didn’t. Mr. Tully, did you even read this?”

“No.” His response was instant.

“Why not?”

Angus’ eyes trailed to the side, somehow finding the blank chalkboard much more appealing than Mr. Hunham. To be honest, anything at the time was more-.

“Angus,” His voice was stern, but not mean. It was enough to catch the boy’s attention, but not enough to scare him. “I need to know what you know, so we can help her.”

He took a deep breath. “Teddy made a joke that she…she…has pictures of herself in a skin mag.” It was absolute hell to watch Mr. Hunham sigh, so Angus looked away as he continued. “She didn’t say that she did, but she didn’t deny it, and I didn’t want to know whatever creepy shit Danny sent-.”

“-First off,” Mr. Hunham interrupted, rubbing his face. “this isn’t Danny the janitor.”

“How do you know?”

“Daniel,” He tried to say the name like he was a historical figure and not someone who made his skin crawl away from his body. “was...a family friend of some sort. That is all you have to know about him.”

Angus nodded, but couldn’t ignore the tightness in his chest, and how his stomach began to tie itself into knots as he asked. “Why did he stop being a family friend?”

“I said that’s all you have to know about him.” He said with more of a bite, then calmed himself. “I’ll speak to her about this the next time I see her, and rest assured, I won’t mention you.”

“She’ll know it’s me.” He shook his head. “I found it in one of her books when she left the infirmary after we talked.”

Mr. Hunham clutched the letter in one hand while removing his glasses with the other. “Regardless of details I cannot share with you, this little incident should not effect on how you view my daughter-.”

“-It doesn’t! I just-!” He lashed out unexpectedly at even the assumption of him finding any shred of blaming her for what was happening to her. “I just…I want her to be okay. That’s it.”

The teacher all but froze at his response, it is apparent that he was not expecting him to say that. Still, after regaining himself, he nodded. “You’re a good man for doing this, you know that, right?”

Angus scoffed, shrugging. “I don’t think she’ll talk to me ever again.”

“She may not,” he nodded. “but she also might. I won’t force her to do either. Again, thank you for letting me know.”

“Sure.”

The two of them walked out of the classroom in silence, and with Mr. Hunham’s “See you at dinner?” and his student’s nod, Angus Tully was left alone again in the grand halls of the school.

 A fate that has somehow always caught up with him ever since he got there.

Angus read the same Popular Mechanics magazine three times over since he found it the night he was the only one left behind at Barton, and he’d gotten sick of it after the second time.

So, with nothing else better to do, and with it starting to get dark, he went down into the kitchen, where apparently everyone but Danny was, helping Mary cook. Including her. She was washing vegetables in the sink while Mary was preparing a roast, both of them laughing at someone one of them said. Mr. Hunham was just at the table, peeling potatoes like his life depended on it.

“Mary.” Angus greeted, smiling at her. Mr. Hunham’s daughter immediately turned back to the sink upon seeing him.

Mary looked up. “Speaking of…”

Deciding to ignore the strange tension in the room (He has a knack for doing that, doesn’t he?), Angus’ eyes traveled around until they landed on a dish beside him. “Oh, brownies? God yes, I want all of these.”

“Ah, ah!” Mary scolded when he took one. “Just take one. The rest is for the Christmas party tonight.”

“What Christmas party? There’s a Christmas party?” He said her name. “Did you know there’s a Christmas party?”

She didn’t turn around, and only responded with. “Uh-.”

“-Yes, at Miss Crane’s house.” Mary interrupted her. “She and I are only going for a little bit, show our faces, and say we were there. Well, she might stick around since her little friend is there. You know, Miss Crane said she invited you too.”

Angus furrowed his brows, looking over at Mr. Hunham. “I want to go to the party.”

He stammered. “She-she didn’t mean it. We were just making small talk.”

Mary shrugged. “If you don’t want to go, don’t go. I’ll take him.”

“Mary can take me.” Angus reiterated.

“No, that’s not how it works.” Mr. Hunham raised his voice a hint. “You’re under my supervision.”

Angus frowned. “So, your own kid isn’t under your supervision, but I am?”

“Don’t even think about pulling me into this.” The ‘kid’ in question shook her head, not even turning around.

Still, he scoffed, bringing his eyes back to Mr. Hunham. “Okay, maybe it’s fine for you to sit around here and read books all day,” he turned on his heel, beginning to walk out. “but I’m losing my goddamn mind, Jesus!”

“Hey!” Mary yelled at him once he threw the brownie across the room. “Watch your mouth, young man! Not on Christmas Eve.”

Angus ignored her, storming off back to the infirmary. He didn’t even make it to his room and a bed to dramatically throw himself on and scream into a pillow. He rested his back against the wall before sliding down it. Now sitting, his shoulders still tensed at what just happened. He’d been stuck in the school for a full week, only being able to go out when he dislocated his entire shoulder.

Who the fuck did that piece of shit think he was for holding him captive?!

Closing his eyes, he thought back to what Dr. Gertler told him. Sure, the guy was a quack, but once or twice he actually had a few things that helped him. Angus breathed in, counting to four, held it for three, then released it for another four.

He repeated that until he felt the tension (mostly) fall away from him, and there was even a hint of calmness in his head.

Which was then lost when he opened his eyes, and she was peeking from around the corner.

“Jesus!” He gasped, and she immediately hid. Once his heart stopped beating so damn fast, he said. “Okay, now who’s being creepy?”

“…Me.” She said after a moment’s silence, still hiding.

Sighing, rested his head against the wall. “I’m sorry I yelled earlier.”

She finally showed herself, standing in front of him now. “I don’t think I’m the one you should apologize to but thank you. My dad said you can go to the party with Mary and I.”

That got Angus to sit up taller. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, but he’s going with us, so it won’t be that fun.” She joked.

He snickered along with her, before asking. “What about dinner?”

“We’ll probably just have it at Miss Crane’s. We’ll just have a nice lunch or something tomorrow instead of tonight.” She explained before walking into her room.

This was what caught Angus Tully off guard. She wasn’t exactly acting like her father had just confronted her about the letters, she was being too nice to him…so did she know it was him? She had to; or was he just overthinking it and getting in his own head (Something he did frequently)?

“When are we leaving?” He asked.

“In an hour!” She yelled, her voice somewhat muffled. “So, get on it, Fitzwilliam.”

“Anything you say, Amy!”

He ran off before she could storm after him (like he assumed she would), and went back into his room, which had darkened quite a bit. He went to his bag and took out the razor and shaving cream that he had only opened a few times since the beginning of the semester. He shook the can and applied the cream to his face before bringing the blades of the razor up to shave.

There was honestly no need to. It’s not like he even had “sawdust under his nose” as one would put it when talking about the mustache men would try to grow after watching Top Gun, which didn’t exist at this time, but that’s beside the point.

Even so, as he wat attempting to shave what was not there, he heard a knock, and her voice asked. “Are you decent?”

“Yep.” He answered, not even bothering to glance at the hall of lockets she had knocked from.

She came into his eyesight and stood so close to him in the mirror that he could feel the heat of her skin on his. “Move over.”

“Why?” He scoffed playfully, yet still did so.

It was only then he noticed the small makeup bag she had in her hand, and she placed it on the sink before opening it and taking out a sponge and small jar of liquid that matched her skin tone (it was foundation; he’d heard the word before but didn’t know it was that until perhaps a year later).

“The lighting’s better in here.” She answered, getting close to the mirror and dabbing the liquid on the sponge and upon her face.

Angus took a second (and only a second, if he took any longer she’d yell at him) to look at her entire self, and saw that she was wearing a dress. A dress that he would never have imagined on her. Her hair was almost the same as always...but there was something more to it he couldn't quite verbalize.

She was still herself, and it was silly to Angus Tully that it took a different dress and perhaps some makeup (something he’d hardly see her wear) to realize just how…just how…

“You look…” His mouth trailed off faster than his brain before he could stop himself.

After finishing her foundation, she took out a powder and brush. As she applied the powder, she glanced up at him through the mirror, a smirk on her face that was holding back a laugh. “Yeah?”

He couldn't call her ‘pretty’ (both because she’d never talk to him again, and that would be belittling her), and he couldn't call her ‘beautiful’ (she just wouldn’t talk to him again period; and he’d probably be scaring her off). So, apparently, the best thing he could think of in a limited amount of time was-.

“-Like a girl.”

Oh, how attractive it was to open one of the windows and jump out of it. If it wasn’t the fall that would kill him, it would certainly be freezing to death in a foot of snow.

Instead, to his surprise, while she momentarily scowled at him (as she should have), she giggled. Shaking her head, she said. “I would say you look like a man, but there’s nothing about you to prove that.”

As his heart began to beat again from her apparent lack of offense, he took the towel off the rack and wiped the residue cream off his face. “Oh yeah? What am I then?”

“A boy.” She set down the brush and took out a small tube of liquid, shaking it. “A tall, little boy.”

He snorted, walking away from the mirror when her gaze became just a little too much. “You said you were friends with Miss Crane’s niece?”

“Yes.” Her tone changed somewhat (or was he just overthinking it).

“Do you think I could-?”

“-Should I put on eyeshadow?”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“You know,” she turned over her shoulder. “the color that goes on the eyelids?”

“I know what eyeshadow is. I’m not that big into makeup, so I don’t know.”

“Really?” She teased. “You aren’t into makeup?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She turned back to the mirror, opening the tube. “Nothing.”

Angus’ eyes scrunched as he smiled at her playfulness. “Well-.”

“-Shut up.” She interrupted him.

He scowled. “Huh?”

She had the pen (it was eyeliner; he actually knew what that was) hovering over her right eye, and she was glancing at him again through the mirror. “I’m doing the most important part, and it’s the one I’m horrible at, so I need complete silence.”

Angus Tully merely nodded, looking away. He didn’t know how long she took, but she knew she was finished when he heard her gasp.

“I did it!” He looked back and saw that she turned to him with the biggest smile on her face, and blackened wings kissing the corner of her eyes. “I did it!”

He could only nod. “Yeah, it looks good.”

She grinned from ear to ear before turning back to the mirror, setting down her eyeliner and getting out an eyelash curler. “Could I ask you a question, even though you’ll feel stupid afterwards?”

“Do your worst.”

“Why ‘Amy’?”

Angus felt safe to smile at that. “Does that bother you?”

“Why, on God’s green earth, would you say I was like Amy?!”

“Well,” he shrugged. “it pisses you off, that’s the first reason. Second is…she grew on me.”

She scowled, turning to look at him. “Oh yeah? How so?”

“I mean…you made her out to be so annoying, and someone who complains a lot which, yes she does. But she’s funny, and she sticks to herself like Jo does, but…I don’t know, I just like her.”

Her face fell for the second time that day; but not like it did that afternoon when he made a joke about her father. No, this time, he knew it was because she truly didn’t think he would say anything like that.

And, for the first time since he’d known her, she almost looked shy.

Something he thought would be the thing that terrified him the most that entire Christmas break.

So, when she didn’t respond, and wanting to disrupt the awkward silence, he then asked. “Wait, why was your dad so against going, but now he’s fine with it?”

She looked back at the mirror, looking at him through it. “Besides the fact it wouldn’t be fair that you’d be stuck here while I’d go, he has a crush on Miss Crane.”

Angus snorted. “Figures.”

She shrugged. “I kind of always knew. I mean, she’s worked here for five years, but I think he only started liking her last year. I’m also not sure what he’s more afraid of; how I’d react to him liking someone after Mom died, or him just liking her period.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

“My mother’s been in the ground for six years.” She decided to take the eyelash curler back in her hand, then brought it up to one of her eyes. “We still visit her of course. She wasn’t selfish either, and it’s been so long, so I don’t think she’d mind. Besides, I’m going to technically graduate next semester, and I don’t want to be stuck here, but I also don’t want him to be alone. Mary’s really his only friend so…yeah, I think I’d be okay if he was with Miss Crane.”

Angus nodded. At first, it felt almost invasive and even wrong for her to tell him all of that so effortlessly. But…he leaned into it the more she went on. She’d been vulnerable with him before (whether she thought it or not, she had been), but this time…it wasn’t a huge confession, it was just a simple conversation.

“I don’t…” He found himself saying.

He didn’t what? What was he going to say? Something about his father? His mother? It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her something.

She took the curler away from herself and turned to look at him. Her eyes…her damn-no, they weren’t damned; they were kind, gentle…but still he felt damned just as she looked at him in a way he hadn’t ever seen her look at anyone before. She was waiting for him to say something.

Say something.

Say something.

She hadn’t said a word, hadn’t done anything but stare at him, but he was suddenly twelve again. Angus Tully, with his hair that was just beginning to have out of place curls, walking into his parent’s room at two in the morning. He woke his mother up, who gasped when he touched her. After she calmed down, she was appalled to see him crying.

It wasn’t a bad dream, it wasn’t because something had happened to him at school; he didn’t know what was making him weep, but he was doing it anyway.

He could barely say anything, he babbled like a baby learning to talk, and all he could get out was “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

His mother tried her best (he liked to himself that), but she could only say “I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong.”

Didn’t she hear him? He didn’t know.

Even now, at seventeen, he didn’t know what to say to her.

“I don’t know how you can use that.” He glanced at the eyelash curler.

She furrowed her brow upon the change in tone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, it looks like a torture device.”

Scoffing, she looked back to the mirror and curled the lashes of her other eyes. “You’ve just never tried it before.”

 “And I never will.”

She looked back at him once she was finished. “Are you scared?”

“No, I just don’t see the reason to.”

She shrugged. “I think you’re scared.”

“Am not.”

“Okay, then let me put mascara on you.”

He scoffed. “You’re kidding.”

“No.” She shook her head. “If you’re not scared then you’ll let me stick something in your eye. You don’t have to wear it to the party, but I think it’d be fun.”

Angus was at a loss. She was a good actress, so how was he supposed to know she wasn’t messing with him? Well…he didn’t; he just had to trust her. To be fair, he had been weird around her this whole time, so…

“I’m not doing the torture device, just the makeup.”

Her face lit up, and she took the mascara out of her bag, setting everything else inside of it. “Get over here.”

He followed, leaning against the wall by the mirror. Suddenly, as he stood in front of her, he was nervous. It wasn’t the first time he was (whether that was because of her wit, her confidence, or even her meanness), it was because it was just her.

“How uh,” he stammered. “how are we doing this.”

“Lean down first of all, fuck why are you so tall?”

“Not one of my favorite qualities.” He joked, pressing his hand against the sink for support as he lowered himself slightly.

“Meh,” she shrugged, unscrewing the cap of her mascara. “girls usually like tall guys.”

His heart flipped. “Yeah?”

She froze momentarily before continuing. “I guess. Elise told me.”

“Right.”

“Okay, close your eyes. You’re going to want to open them when you feel something touch your eye, but I promise you, you don’t want to do that.”

“Sounds good.” He closed his eyes, waiting for the feeling of discomfort. He could feel the heat of herself hover around him, but the pain from the mascara never came.

He heard her sigh. “This isn’t going to work.”

Angus opened his eyes when he felt her draw away, and he saw her sit on one of the beds. She titled her head. “Come here.”

He didn’t know if his heart was still or was going to beat itself out of his chest. Obviously, he sat by her before but…he had to be closer to her. Angus did his best not to make a big deal of it, but he felt like he was almost watching himself outside of his body as he sat beside her and closed his eyes.

“Do you want to know what my mom called me when I was younger?”

She was trying to distract him and he knew it. “Sure.”

“Ever heard of Orpheus and Eurydice?”

He tensed but soon relax when she rested her hand on his cheek; it felt like she was burning him, but the way that he felt whenever he had a fever. Somehow…it was comforting.  Breathing shallowly, he answered. “Greek? Kind of.”

“Well,” he cowered away a little when he felt something brush his eyelashes but kept calm as she continued. “where my father loved Roman history and mythology, my mother was more into the Greeks. They’d go back and forth debating on which was more influential, and that was more so how they became friends. She…before I was born, she talked about naming me Eurydice because it was her favorite story. My dad was obviously against it, so that was a no. So, that’s when she’d just call me Eurydice at home a lot, just to piss him off which was funny.”

Angus hummed, paying attention to her words, but having to bite his tongue to keep himself grounded from losing himself within her touch. “What’s she like in the story?”

“Not much to her.” She moved onto his other eye. “Well, what it gives us anyway. I always had my mom tell me their story, and Eurydice kept changing. It was always who I was like growing up.”

“Really?”

“Really. I was shy around the other kids when she first told me-.”

“-You, shy?”

“Shut up, I’ll mess up your eye if you make me laugh. But yeah, so Eurydice was quiet and shyer. Then, when I’m like nine, I’m a bit more outspoken, angrier even, so she became that.”

He didn’t move his head, scared that he’d mess her up. It was then, after she stopped speaking, he could feel her breath on his face. Her hand was still warm against his cheek, and he found himself leaning into it more and more. He had not felt this sense of peace since…he couldn’t recall.

“Done.”

With one word from her, she took her hand away and he opened his eyes. She was still so close to him, and while he saw her smiling at what he assumed had been her work, it was him staring at her that made it drop. Still, she didn’t look frightened nor upset, she was just…looking at him.

The moment his eyes dropped to her lips for only a second, it was all over.

He’d thought about it, of course. He wanted to. But…like with everything about her, he froze.

She didn’t.

“You…” She stood up from the bed, straightening the skirt of her dress. “you should probably wash that off after taking a look.”

Angus didn’t have time to respond before she grabbed her makeup bag and ran off. He just sat there, trying to process if he was waiting to wake up from a dream, or if it had been in fact real.

When nothing happened, he sighed heavily, getting up and walking towards the mirror. His eyes looked different, and he felt weird. He could not tell if it was from the makeup, her, or both. Still, what he did know, was that he made a fool of himself.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

[mizusnose]

Kiss away the forces of my mind

fem!reader x mizu spending their holiday at a ryokan. Drabbles of them together in a little onsen town. (I miss Japan a lot today, okay) Art by @/cypress on X

Traveling on the bullet train to the seaside town that borders the steep and hilly shore. A town housing multiple hot springs, small shrines, and a creek that freezes over in the wintertime.

You’re both exhausted by the time you get there: late evening sun dipping into the horizon like a ripe mandarin. The narrow roads make you car sick, and Mizu holds your hand, rubs her thumb into your underside of your arm: the space just beneath your elbow.

The ryokan is two stories, five total rooms. Mizu brags about how well she did after you’ve both settled into your room. The sliding doors and house slippers snug on your feet, she pulls you into a kiss. Looks at you mischievously and says, onsen?

Mizu booked a private outdoor one for two hours. The steam puffs and pulls above the water, dissipating into the cold brisk air above. The crispy winter air mixes with the cold mountain breeze.

Mizu gets in before you. She’s always been quicker washing up beforehand, sitting simply on the upturned bucket, legs long and back bare: beautiful, you think.

The stars above you as you sink in besides Mizu cures all the aches and strains your body has endured from travel. Mizu’s palm on your shoulders, digging into the knots there calm you even more.

Mizu swims off to the other end, puts her head beneath the small rushing waterfall there. She hums and you envision her curled up and tucked under a ray of sunshine—just like a cat would.

You both return to the room soft and damp. Mizu has a cowlick that won’t stay down no matter how hard she pushes it down. You kiss her as a distraction.

The best part: the beer you both grabbed from the complimentary drink station. It’s taste crisp and cold on your mouths.

It’s the happiest you’ve been. You tell Mizu as much, her cheeks reddened and her words slow. She looks syrupy, ready to cuddle as soon as you open your arms as you get ready to sleep.

You think of the sky: a stripped back bowl of ink and flecks of stars above you both. You smooth Mizu’s hair back when she starts to softly snore against your chest. Kiss her hairline, the small widow’s peak there.

You both go to a shrine the day afterwards. Mizu becomes a blushing mess when you both realize it’s a fertility shrine. Jokingly, you buy an omamori as a joke to rile her up: a simple embroidered 愛 on it.

She doesn’t take it off her bag even after you start getting embarrassed about it.

———

I miss having a cold beer after the onsen :,)

[papermatisse]

Snowbound || K.MG (I)

chapter one: iceolated

♗ pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader

♗ genre: fluff, angst

♗ word count: 17.6k

♗ warnings: cursing, extreme weather, dissociating, communication issues, unresolved trauma, harsh character archetypes

♗ abstract: a chance encounter between a spoiled socialite and a mysterious woodsman

♗ (a/n): this chapter is mainly to introduce and get a taste of the characters and their dynamics. things will be elaborated/addressed in future chapters. also yeah, this was supposed to be completed and posted in the wintertime, but I already breached the 20k mark and wasn't even halfway done, so I thought posting it by chapters and just completing it by wintertime would be good enough 👍.

snowbound masterlist | main masterlist

It was an undeniable certainty that (y/n) had lived a life of privilege and grandeur. Every whim which passed her by was catered to no matter how fleeting or childish it seemed. She was spoiled beyond belief and recognition, doted upon by everyone around her. Perhaps it was this mindset which had become ingrained into her, that of her every desire and ambition held will be inevitably granted, which landed her in her current predicament.

This aforementioned plight being that she's suddenly found herself stranded in the middle of nowhere. And by nowhere, she quite literally means nowhere.

Surrounded by a dense brush of wood with only an abandoned and empty road which stretched as far as the eye can see, which albeit wasn't very far considering the clouded and snowy atmosphere completely shrouding her vision, only growing more obscure with every passing moment as not only a snowstorm was beginning to form, but also the sun was gradually setting, only casting a faint light to the otherwise dark and dreary white landscape. No street lamps to keep her company, no headlights approaching, and no glow of a nearby town to serve as a beacon for her. She was utterly and hopelessly stranded.

"This is fine, everything is fine," (y/n) muttered lowly to herself, hands still desperately clenching the steering wheel. A cold sheen of perspiration settled over her revealed skin, only further reminding her of the cold now beginning to seep into her taciturn vehicle. With a heavy gulp, she shakily reached for her coat beside her, tugging the thick article onto her body before returning to her otherwise comatose state of utter panic.

This is not fine. Nothing is fine. I'm going to die here.

Her phone's reception had long disappeared at this point, with only a measly 30% battery to greet her as she fleetingly glanced at the screen before turning it off again. It's better to preserve whatever battery she can, especially since the device was nothing less than redundant to her in her current situation.

As the light outside began to drastically dwindle to nothingness, casting her in an unseemly blanket of frigid darkness, her doubts and fears only accumulated, swirling about her until those hopeful yet utterly despairing affirmations from before were nothing more than static—white noise in the terror stricken state of her mind, in the midst of her own personal nightmare. There was absolutely no chance of her surviving the night. With two sweaters, a padded coat, and a blanket draped over her, she could still feel her bones chilling by the second, as if she was wearing nothing at all.

By the time anyone were to realize she was missing, she'd be a cadaver trapped in a freezer of a deathbed. She didn't know what would be more embarrassing, being found in a vehicle clearly unfit for the snowy biome she's found herself in, or the sorry excuse of a navigator she was to have gotten lost using a paper map. She'd argue her case in that the atlas was obsolete in her day and age, but she was beginning to realize perhaps she should've prepared herself more for such a long journey.

To add to the pathetic state she's found herself in, she was in the midst of considering writing her will on the back of said map when a sudden jarring series of thuds startled her from her stupor, a yelp slipping out of (y/n) as she whipped her head to the driver's window beside her.

That initial yelp of surprise had quickly morphed into a full blown horrific screech torn from her throat. Vision shaky and blurred, whether from the tears that had accumulated at a moment's notice or the sudden surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins, she unwillingly stared ahead, now face to face with the presence of a colossal silhouette, hunched over and peering right at her.

Her entirety crumbled, heart seemingly abandoning her as she felt this cold emptiness flood her being. The once frigid and unforgiving air had long disappeared, and she felt herself suffocating under the weight of it all, under the gaze of the shadowed monstrosity lurking just beyond the glass barrier. And yet even with this stifling atmosphere, her lungs persisted, screaming as if hoping, praying, for a savior. For some reprieve from this hellscape she's stumbled into.

Through the haze of fear blinding (y/n), she initially hadn't taken notice of the terror radiating from the creature as well, jumping back the moment her muffled hollering reached his ears. And as soon as he had processed the situation, he had quickly gone about dispelling it.

It took (y/n) a moment herself to register what was happening, as the thing outside suddenly ripped off his hoodie and scarf, revealing the face of a young man, gazing at her with unadulterated concern. And even as she came to terms with the fact that the intruder was nothing more than a simple guy, she still remained as is, pressed as far back as she could be from the window, center console digging into her ribs as she attempted to quell the stabbing ache of exhaustion and terror ebbing away slowly but surely.

Through her lack of response, remaining as unresponsive as her car, the man found himself opening the car door, crouching in the snow to get a better look at the girl.

"Are you alright?" He asked aloud, keeping his voice as steady as he could given the deafening sound of the winds beginning to pick up. He didn't want to startle the girl any more than she already has, but the situation was starting to become dire. "You've gotta get going. If you leave now, you'll probably make it into town before the storm hits."

Silence. Nothing more than her heavy breathing as she stared straight ahead aimlessly.

(y/n) could see the man take a glance around her car, though nothing seemed to penetrate the muddled state of her head now as the adrenaline dissipated. That exhaustion from before was becoming unbearable, the tension of her body melting away alongside her consciousness.

Vaguely, she could feel herself being moved. She could feel the sting of snowflakes briefly gliding across her skin, the shakiness of her legs sinking into the blanket of snow beneath her, the sound of her car door being closed behind her. Relapses of memory showcasing scenes of her walking through the woods, accompanied by the man beside her ushering her through the labyrinth of trees. And by the time she had finally come to, she found herself seated on a cushioned chair, the large back and armrests completely encasing her. Blankets draped across her back, as did a new woolen sweater, far too large for her. A fireplace sat to her left, its warmth foreign yet welcoming, and to her right sat the man from before, once more crouched on the floor as he watched her.

"Are you with me, kid?" He asked, head tilting as his eyes narrowed in question. Silently, (y/n) nodded, shifting under his perceptive gaze. Her eyes traveled down to her hands, a warm cup resting between her palms, steam traipsing upwards and dispelling in the air. Hesitantly, she brought it up to her nose, sighing gratefully at the warmth it offered her slowly thawing face. "It's tea. Earl Grey." His chin jutted towards the cup, umber eyes returning to hers. "Drink some. You need to warm up."

It probably wasn't her best move to immediately abide by this stranger's words, but she was also on a streak of misfortune and bad decisions, so what does it matter if she drinks this potentially laced drink? Yet as she took her first sip, she was only greeted by the man's wholly genuine words. It was truly Earl Grey, the creamy taste of milk gratefully warming her sore throat, and the sugar added only served to settle her nerves some.

As she placed the drink down again, she glanced back to the man staring expectantly at her, as if awaiting some response.

"Thank you… It's really good," she whispered, tone strangled some through the coarseness of her voice. Yet this did not perturb the man in the slightest, only inciting a mirthful smirk, a mischievous glint in his eyes as she spoke.

"So you can talk," he replied, backing away from where he had been crouched to settle onto the rug behind him. "I was afraid I picked up a stray banshee or something."

"I thought you were Bigfoot…" (y/n) muttered as a pitiful defense, quickly retreating back to the tea in her hands as boisterous laughter filled the room.

"Bigfoot? Kid, even Bigfoot wouldn't be wandering around in a snowstorm like this." At the mention of the storm, (y/n) dared a glance at the window across the room, shut tight with a flannel curtain shrouding it, yet through the cracks alone, she could see the near violent flurry of white whizzing by. The winds were enough to rattle the seemingly sturdy pane, a shudder akin to the one currently running down her spine at the mere thought of potentially having been lost out there.

Upon the realization, she was growing increasingly more grateful to the man before her, leant against the adjacent couch as he stretched his limbs out across the floor. In the ambient glow of the fire and the comfort of the rustic scenery, (y/n) couldn't help but to briefly admire said savior. Tousled black locks, perhaps a bit outgrown and unruly yet still seemly. Strong features meeting soft ones—round almond eyes with a sharp edge, chiseled jaw smoothed and rounded like a marble statue, a sloped nose adorned with a birthmark at the tip, an overall impressive visage.

Even past the smile growing fainter by the second and the charming characteristics of the man, (y/n) could see he had an air of maturity to him. Eyes that have experienced the best of life and the worst, darkened with the burden of knowledge he's accumulated through his years. He was strong, that much was evident, from the imposing frame hidden beneath the worn material of his sweater, though also simply from how he manages to carry himself with such a tired expression.

Soon came the inevitable return to neutrality, and with a sigh, coincided by a long and contemplative stare into the flames, he spoke once more.

"You seem rattled. Better than you were before, but still shaken up." She remained silent, gripping the mug of tea in her hands as if it were a lifeline. As if it would magically transport her away from the circumstance she's barred in. She was rattled. She was shaken. She was also scared beyond belief, worried for what was to happen to her. So many thoughts swirling in her head that she couldn't possibly pinpoint one thing and elaborate on it. Though the man, ever the saint he was, seemed to grasp this with just a single glance her way. "I'm not going to hurt you. If I wanted you dead, I'd have left you out there in the cold." (y/n) didn't really know how to respond to this in general, though her sentiment seemed to carry through as the man continued. "You can stay here for the night. There's a spare room prepared, as well as extra clothes–"

"No!" (y/n) softly interjected, leaning forward in her seat. Though her voice was weak and tired, it had thrown the man off for a second, brows furrowed in confusion as she hesitantly sat back in her seat. It was difficult to meet his eyes, far too observant for her comfort. Even as her gaze traced the intricate stitch work of the rug beneath them, she could still feel that penetrative stare of his probing her, already attempting to work out what could have possibly encouraged her first outburst since entering this cabin. "I… I really shouldn't. I need to head out. I can just wait out the storm in my car. Then head over to the nearest town to get help."

It was silent as she finished wording her plan of attack, however vague and unconvincing as it was, with only the accompaniment of a crackling fire to fill the silent atmosphere. Her hands twitched along the hot ceramic surface of the mug, nervously tapping the pads of her fingers along the sides as she awaited his response.

Eventually, after a moment of deliberation on his part, he had shifted once more from his comfortable position, returning to the crouched form he had taken when she had first come to. He tilted his head to meet her gaze, a wry grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

"What's your name, kid?" He asked, voice low and cautious, as if approaching a wounded animal.

(y/n) must've looked something like one after everything which had transpired thus far. Though she couldn't deny how approachable and kindhearted he seemed, giving her enough space to breathe though still attempting to reach out as much as he could without startling her off. He was resourceful, clever, yet still held that human charm of helpfulness.

So it came as no shock when she silently muttered her name to him, eyes retreating to the cream liquid of her drink.

"(y/n)," he repeated, allowing the syllables to roll from his tongue, familiarizing himself with the sound of the name. "I'm Mingyu."

"Mingyu…" She almost immediately copied him, saying his name aloud to grow accustomed to it as he did hers. And as she did so, he offered a warm and inviting smile.

"(y/n), you know as well as I do why you shouldn't go back out there." Once again, he was right. Though she didn't want to admit it. She didn't want to accept defeat so quickly. But of course, he could see the resilience in her eyes. With a tired sigh, he continued on. "If you were to leave now, you'd be lucky to have made it to your car. Your car is about… 150 feet away from the cabin right now. I've known people who have died from less of a trek in storms smaller than this."

She shrunk back with each of his words, curling into herself as best as she could, wishing to just disappear from it all.

"If you did make it to your car through some miracle, you'd be met with a metal freezer whose only difference between it and the outside is the lack of snow. That is if you can even open your car door with all the snow piling outside as we speak." He softly grasped the mug in her hand, as if somehow knowing she didn't want to hold it anymore, allowing her to curl into herself even more, wrapping the oversized sweater around her body. "If you did survive the walk to your car and the night in it, you'll be met with a 5-mile walk to the nearest town through temperatures just a few degrees warmer than right now, and snow that is not bound to have melted at this point. Again, I've known people to die walking in conditions like this."

This was probably the nail in the coffin for her, staving off the onslaught of frustrated tears threatening to slip by as he finished his analysis of sorts regarding her game plan and its flaws. And as ever perceptive as he was, Mingyu ceased speaking, watching as she toiled with herself, mind in turmoil from her ever escalating plight. Though aside from the clear agitation which came with the situation her reckless and hasty decisions have brought upon her, another clear source of her distress came with the fact that what Mingyu said was entirely true and realistic. Something with which deep down she had already come to terms with, yet adamantly refused in her foolhardy, youthful mien. Those frustrated tears were from being in a situation with only one solution she did not want to accept, but had to.

"There's a spare bedroom. You can shower and change into dry clothes. I'll see if I can check out your car tomorrow." Mingyu watched carefully as (y/n) frowned to herself, brows tense and eyes determinedly glaring at the intricate knitwork of the blanket on her lap. With a careful touch, he placed his hand above the fabric resting over her shin, drawing her eyes back to him. "Okay?"

Another beat of silence and a timid glance to the window, as if hoping, praying for the snow to let up even a minute fraction, though to no avail, (y/n) hesitantly nodded, finally agreeing to his words.

She allowed Mingyu to guide her through his cabin, down a hall to the very end where the bathroom resided.

It was quaint, bearing only the necessities of a bathroom. A tub, a curtain ring shrouding it from above, a shower head attached to the wall. Beside it was the toilet, and next to that was the sink. On the opposing wall was a towel rack, and there was little to no decor or personal motifs anywhere. Just barren walls, the shade of sandy beaches, with wooden floors like the rest of the abode.

Mingyu worded instructions to her, explaining the shower mechanics regarding the skewed hot and cold functions, briefly leaving her alone and returning with towels and clothes.

"And when you're done, you can just leave your clothes here. I'll wash them later for you." He completed his speech and turned to her once more. Silence fell upon the two as they stared awkwardly at one another, both unsure of what to do next, though Mingyu was the first to move, mumbling a brief farewell as he slipped out of the small bathroom, leaving her to do what she must.

Upon being alone once more, (y/n) began her journey of processing. Though sufficiently warmed at this point, her limbs felt numb, as if having an out-of-body experience. As if she herself was not presently in her person. Looking into the mirror furthered that alien feeling which plagued her mind.

Hair tousled by the impending snow and wind, eyes reddened and puffy, swamped by this woolen sweater that was quite possibly thrice her size. She looked like a kicked puppy, and was honestly quite surprised that Mingyu looked at her with not even a hint of pity—merely taking her in out of the kindness of his heart.

She didn't know for how long she remained in that shower, allowing the hot water to wash her troubles away. Perhaps her tears allowed themselves to slip by, though she'd be none the wiser, warm streams incessantly cascading down unto her as she drowned out her worries.

As of right now, she was safe. And like Mingyu said, if he wanted her dead, he'd have left her out there in the snowstorm. She's away from the cold, Mingyu will check her car when the snow slows down, and she'll be on her merry way.

She gathered what little will remained in her depleted form and finished washing herself, dispelling the remnants of chill which had once lingered in her before stepping out of the shower. She grimaced feeling the hard wood beneath her feet, though persevered in drying off and changing into the clothes.

As opposed to the sweater from before, which she assumed belonged to Mingyu himself, the clothes she wore seemed more fitting to her now, albeit a little big, though nothing to complain about. Another wool sweater, intricate cable knitting seamlessly woven into an articulate pattern, paired with worn flannel pants.

She took another moment to herself, stamping out any remaining nerves buzzing about in her, before slipping out of the bathroom. The hallway was dark with only the main portion of the cabin to light her way like a beacon, though even through the shroud of black encasing her, she could tell the walls of the hall were just as devoid of life as the bathroom was. She quietly padded her way down the corridor, eyes slowly scanning for any frames on the wall or decorative items she could use to pin down his character, though was met with nothing. Nothing but the low humming of a voice, carried throughout the house and guiding her directly to the kitchen.

Once again, quaint seemed to best fit the area. Weathered cabinets and counters lined two adjacent walls. On one end was a fridge, and nestled between two counters was that of an antique stove and oven. Mingyu occupied himself there, humming a nonsensical tune while stirring something in a pot. He hadn't acknowledged (y/n)'s presence until he reached over for something and was only able to see her figure in the corner of his eye, causing him to whirl around and fully face her. Fear riddled his eyes for a moment before he sighed out of relief.

"You need to wear a bell or something," He spoke, pressing a hand to his heart as he turned back to his cooking.

"Did you think Bigfoot snuck into your cabin?" (y/n) joked, smiling to herself when Mingyu tossed her a glare over his shoulder.

"I have high hopes that I'd have been able to hear Bigfoot approaching." With a humored huff, he gestured over to the table against the wall. "Take a seat. I'm almost done."

Abiding by his instruction, she slipped into one of the two available seats, curiously watching him move about like a seasoned Michelin chef in his element. Even with the light atmosphere from their casual exchange, there was still an understandable weight in her chest. Seated in a foreign environment with a stranger wielding a knife in her presence, albeit to chop vegetables, though still with the potential to turn it on her at a moment's notice.

Perhaps it was her bad decisions still choosing to muck about her life some more, but in her eyes, it was undeniable how harmless Mingyu seemed. From how carefully he stirred at whatever stew he was brewing, continued his low hum to fill the emptiness of the room, to even the apron he had carefully tied around himself. He seemed… mundane. Nothing particularly unorthodox or concerning in his otherwise average persona. Merely the embodiment of a gentle giant.

"Here, eat up. You must be hungry." He slid a bowl of soup in front of her before taking the seat opposite with his own serving. She hadn't realized how hungry she truly was until the scent of his cooking hit her nose, and she began silently eating. The warmth of the broth soothed her insides, settling itself cozily in her like a remedy to the grueling night she's had thus far. And while the bitter winds beat against the seemingly impenetrable cabin, she couldn't help but smile in the warmth, comfort, and food given to her all by Mingyu.

"Thank you…" (y/n) spoke, placing her spoon down momentarily. Her eyes were hesitant in meeting his, though when she did look up to him, there was a mixture of surprise and another, more alien expression imbibed in his gaze. He had blinked it away, returning to his soup with a gruff noise emitting from his throat, as if acknowledging her statement though not wanting to make anything of it. Her mind had settled, however in the midst of eating, and with the floodgates now opened, the only solution was to let her emotions run their course. "I mean it. Like you said, I'd probably be dead out there by now if it weren't for you." He was silent, opting to continue his meal, though (y/n) took no offense to it, also going for her spoon once more, smile still on her face. "And thank you for the soup. It's very tasty."

The rest of dinner was quiet, but a surprisingly comfortable silence. (y/n) could feel her defenses crumbling with every passing moment, and while the logical part of her brain screamed for some, or quite literally any, form of precaution when being trapped in a strange lumberman's cabin in the woods with no reception and no means of escape, she couldn't seem to find any hostility in Mingyu's demeanor, and thus no immediate call for reinforcements in the form of paranoia.

There was something strangely sweet in eating a home cooked meal served by a colossal hermit who avoided looking at her, and she enjoyed the brief dinner encounter between the two.

"Thank you again for the meal, Mingyu," (y/n) spoke as the two walked down the hall to their respective rooms, after having finished their supper and packed away leftovers. And just as before, Mingyu responded with an affirmative grunt, eyes downcast and avoiding her once more.

"You should get some rest," Mingyu finally responded, head gesturing to the door opposite his own. "You've had a long day. Your clothes should be dry by tomorrow. You can change after breakfast."

And with that, he slipped away into his room, a soft click as his door shut behind him. (y/n) was left staring for another moment more, curiosity far too piqued regarding Mingyu's sudden closed off manner, though chose to dwell on the matter in the comfort of her temporary lodgings.

The room was rustic, much like the rest of her current accommodation, as well as devoid of any personal adornments again. It was equipped with the necessities, that being a large bed, an armoire and a dresser, a mirror, and a large armchair nestled into the corner. The bedframe was broad and sturdy, a simple design made of a dark wood, with multiple layers of comforter and blankets stacked upon each other. It felt as if she were unearthing a deep treasure just to reach the mattress, though the accumulation of sheets was a welcomed sight as the stagnant air proved much too chilly for comfort.

The sheets were stiff and the room held a delicate mustiness to it, reminiscent of time suspended and undisturbed. Though there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere her eyes landed, there was a hint of its familiar scent, that subtle earthy undertone derived from nature reclaiming its space through the lack of human presence. The wood of the bed frame was aged, creaking as she climbed into its embrace, the vessel further moaning from lack of use as she settled in for the night.

The circumstances of her chambers only further heightened her curiosity with Mingyu. What was a man like him doing out here in this state? The cabin held no sort of personality. No picture frames bearing his depiction, no knick knacks to start conversation, not even the decrepit and horrifying deer head she'd have imagined would hang over the mantle of the fire. Her clothes were large, though nowhere near as large as Mingyu is, and so it only strikes the question of whose wardrobe is she currently wearing?

Though many of her questions also revolved around Mingyu himself. He seemed kind, bringing in a random stranger in distress without any further thought, as well as making sure she's as comfortable as he could possibly manage. He seemed resourceful, as well as intelligent in many ways. Someone who could evaluate situations at hand, supposedly work on a car himself, and even cook one of the most delicious soups she'd ever have the pleasure of eating.

He was also undeniably attractive. Older with worn out and tired features, as if having experienced life in the most tumultuous of ways, though also strong with this twinkle in his eyes, like a child just dying to be released and enjoy what few pleasures life has to offer. His smile from before remained in her thoughts, the charming way his eyes crinkled and the crease of his laugh lines following its familiar yet unused folds along the planes of his face. It was saddening to see that momentary spark of happiness seem to dissolve during dinner, though it only encouraged more of her prying thoughts as to what caused such a dramatic shift in him.

Perhaps he had reconsidered the events of tonight and regretted having taken her in? Maybe the regret hit him as he dusted this room or cooked the extra serving of soup. Perhaps he was merely tired. Maybe he had as strenuous a day as she did. Or perhaps her unwanted presence had left him perturbed in the most disquieting of ways. Maybe she had without realizing uncovered something he had wanted buried away for good.

The morning came sooner rather than later, (y/n) finding herself far too entrenched in the warmth and comfort granted by the large bed. Though unused as previously concluded, the blankets were a welcoming weight upon her exhausted form, and the pillows seemed to embrace her in their plush hold. So getting up felt like more of a chore than anything else, but she felt obligated to rise upon hearing Mingyu's door opening from outside her own.

Upon shuffling out of her room, she could see Mingyu moseying about in his own routine, starting a fire in the fireplace, folding her clothes and stacking them on his couch, beginning breakfast for the two of them, all whilst not even acknowledging her watching from afar. She was still attempting to quell the tiredness from her eyes, leant against the corner of the wall as she emerged from the hallway.

To her right was the kitchen, where the sound of sizzling filled the otherwise still atmosphere. Mingyu stood at the forefront of the stove once more, broad back shielding her from getting a glimpse at whatever concoction he was conjuring up today. Though if the stew from yesterday served as any indication to his track record, she knew she would be looking forward to breakfast as well.

To her left was a large, empty space. There stood a second door to the outside, its windows unveiling a winter wonderland of sorts of an entirely white landscape, though aside from such a picturesque sight, the corner of the cabin offered nothing more.

Redirecting her attention to Mingyu again, she approached him, much like the day before, on light feet and hidden from his peripheral, grinning to herself once more as she deemed herself close enough. Closer than yesterday, to warrant more of a response from the estranged man before her.

He seemed in his own world, low voice humming another silly tune to fill the void. She imagined it's habitual from living on his own for so long. To fill the emptiness by any means he can, even as the pan sizzles an accompaniment to his song. And once more, she's left wondering, ever so curious why such a capable man like Mingyu was left a recluse in the middle of nowhere.

"Jesus," Mingyu hisses out as he catches her in the corner of his eye, flinching back and banging his leg against the stove with a harsh thud and an accompanying groan. This snapped (y/n) out of her potential stupor, instead prompting a laugh out of her as she took her seat by the table. "A bell, please!"

"Where's the fun in that?" Mingyu grumbled at her response, returning to cooking with a furrow in his brows. (y/n) couldn't help but hum appreciatively at his annoyed expression, a welcoming reaction to her early shenanigans, and a nice start to a hopefully equally nice day. "Good morning, Mingyu."

"Morning." He replied curtly, turning from his stove with two plates of food, plopping one unceremoniously down in front of her before taking his seat across. Even with his cranky demeanor, though it felt anything but genuine, (y/n) grinned, thanking him once more for the food as they ate silently again.

Her eyes wandered for the umpteenth time. Whether it was to get a better grasp of the place, memorize it before she leaves it, or to still try and decipher why it was so empty, she hadn't any idea. Though perhaps it was a combination of all three. Because by the end of the day, she'd be off and back in her route, and Mingyu will presumably remain doing whatever it is he does in such an empty shell of a home—if it could even be called one.

"So do you like… rent this place or something?" (y/n) found herself speaking her thoughts aloud, glancing around the walls once more before landing on a slightly bewildered Mingyu, cheeks puffed with food. Though his surprise dissipated rather quickly, eyes now narrowed in a suspicious stare, clearly not trusting the apparent jester he had invited into his home. (y/n) snickered with a roll of her eyes. "What? I just feel entitled to ask. I should know a little about the guy I'm currently staying with, yeah?"

Mingyu chewed for a moment more, swallowing and already going for another scoop of food.

"No." His answer was abrupt and firm, as if an end to the conversation. Or at least the end to the conversation for anyone that wasn't her.

"So you live here?" Mingyu quirked a brow at the obvious answer to the question, but still confirmed either way with his signature grumble. (y/n) scanned the place again with an uncommitted hum, hearing what he was saying, though in astonishment at the response.

"What? Shocking to see a homeowner these days?" Mingyu chimed, watching (y/n) as she gazed about aimlessly.

"Not what I meant," she chuckled out, fork briefly picking at her food as she revisited her thoughts. "It's just… it doesn't feel like a home, I guess."

The conversation died at that point. Neither a response from Mingyu on the matter or a redirecting of the topic. She went back to eating, and from her peripheral, she could see a deliberating Mingyu staring at her. He froze in his seat, stiff as a statue whilst seemingly so deep in thought it was impossible to break his concentration. Though eventually, it seemed he snapped out of it, also returning to his meal without so much as another grumble. To others, it would seem as if he chose to ignore her statement, but she was beginning to read Mingyu just as well as he read her.

He knew what she was getting at—he just didn't want to address it.

It was enough of a revelation for (y/n) to realize there was more to unravel in this supposed mystery of Mingyu's life, though she opted not to pry. What would be the benefit of becoming invested in a story she'd inevitably have to leave? To stir up unwarranted trouble only to depart midway through, leaving behind a man forced to rebury whatever trauma he had wanted to remain hidden away. And though her curiosity was entirely piqued, she refrained from saying anything more, silently retreating to her room after breakfast to change back into her clothes so they could brave the storm's aftermath outside.

Mingyu had looked at her with a critical eye as she emerged forth adorning her yesterday's attire. Sneakers, leggings, and a long padded coat that brushed along her knees. Of course beneath the coat were more layers, including her sweaters she'd worn the night before to stave off the cold, as well as the sweater she had received yesterday, which she could only assume was Mingyu's. Though even with her puffed appearance, limbs stiff from the amount of items obstructing her movement, Mingyu grunted in disapproval, disappearing momentarily down the hall.

He emerged seconds later, a pair of jeans and boots in his possession. (y/n) flinched as he dropped the boots before her with a loud thud, and handed her the pants with a furrow to his brow.

"You're not leaving the house wearing that." He dismissively staggered off elsewhere without another word, and (y/n) was left watching his retreating form.

It was interesting, she thought. How many shades of Mingyu she had come across in less than a day. At first, he seemed rather talkative, playful jabs at her intuition, careful attempts at approaching her, all calculated and friendly in his mannerisms. Though progressively, he's resorted to a more quiet demeanor, communicating through mere grunts and curt statements, as if distancing himself before he even had the chance of getting closer to her.

Perhaps it was for the best. Better to leave with a curious mind than with a sated yet attached soul. Though her curiosity was ever so persistent in its quest to discover the truth, she'd have to accept whatever assumptions she could make from the context clues she's picked up so far. That there's truly a man of Mingyu's caliber alone in the woods with nothing and no one.

And as she tugged on the allotted jeans, she also came to the conclusion that there must have once been a woman living here before, as the jeans, albeit large, fit to her figure surprisingly well. The boots as well, not necessarily pertaining to her own stature, gave the insinuation of once belonging to a larger woman.

As (y/n) stood there momentarily deliberating what this could insinuate, Mingyu reappeared, silently assessing her from where he resided. She met his gaze, watching as a muted conflict toiled in his eyes, though was buried away when he approached her, crouching to tuck the pants into her boots.

"This'll do for now," he responded lowly, rising to his full height once more. He pulled aside the flannel curtain, analyzing the outside conditions before tugging open the door, stepping out and allowing her to get a good view of the outside for the first time.

It was astonishing, to say the least. White as far as the eye can see, which wasn't necessarily much, as the dense brush of pine trees cut off what resided beyond the small clearing in front of Mingyu's cabin. The earth was completely encased by snow, sparing not even a blade of grass to tarnish the homogeneity of the monochrome landscape; not even the pine needles could be seen, tasked with the burden of carrying piles of snow in its embrace.

It felt almost sacrilegious to step into the thick blanket below, feet sinking into the plush ground with a satisfying crunch. The cold had instantly penetrated whatever skin it could seek, seeping into her body and chilling her bones from within. Mingyu walked ahead effortlessly, leaving her to catch up, clumsily plodding through the snow like a newborn fawn.

To her, it all looked the same. Trees stretching up to the grayed skies, bobbing and weaving between the narrow passages they offered. At times, she had to glance back just to verify that her footsteps were being marked by the terrain beneath her, just to ensure she had a way to return without getting lost. Yet Mingyu seemed wholly unbothered by the ordeal, expertly navigating through the thicket as if it were marked roads; the trained eyes of a lumberjack, she supposed.

Eventually, they emerged from the woods, and she sighed in relief upon seeing her helpless car still resting along the side of the buried road. The vehicle itself had been near covered in snow, and she grimaced imagining having slept there for the night. (y/n) watched as Mingyu approached the front of the car, brushing off the snow before propping open the hood.

As he got to work analyzing her car, she absentmindedly approached the driver's side, tugging open the door, still unlocked from her ordeal the night before, and taking a seat on the cold leather of the chair. It felt somewhat surreal to be sitting there once more, in the potential metal coffin had she not been swept away by Mingyu. Her sorry excuse of a map crumpled in the passenger seat, empty snack bags tossed haphazardly through her journey, her phone still helplessly tossed aside. It was low on battery, though still alive, with no reception at all. Still, it felt comforting for her to hold it again, ever reliant on the device in her day and age.

"So where were you headed?" Mingyu asked aloud from where he was leant into her vehicle, startling (y/n) for a second with the low timbre of his voice. She stood from her seat, ambling over to Mingyu in the same clunky manner as before.

"Huh?" She finally managed to get out as she neared, still attempting to process the question through her muddled mind. There was a hint of a smile tugging at Mingyu's lips before he dared a glance at (y/n).

"Aren't I entitled to ask the girl living in my home what her life story is?" The response had her pursing her lips, attempting to hold back the laugh which threatened to bubble out of her, but she refused to give him the satisfaction. Though the clear delight written across her face upon hearing his remark was enough to have Mingyu grinning victoriously to himself, returning to the car's plight.

"Can't believe I'm living with a mechanic and a comedian. What a package deal." Mingyu rolled his eyes at this, though remained silent as she continued on. "I was heading to a resort where my parents were expecting me." He hummed in response, prompting her to continue even as his eyes remained glued to his work. (y/n) found herself scratching the back of her head in embarrassment, knowing what was to come, though also realizing there was nothing more she could possibly do to prevent the inevitable. "And my flight was canceled so…"

Mingyu paused, slowly turning to face her with a skeptical look across his face.

"Your flight was canceled?" She nodded at his question, eyes darting to and fro though never landing on him.

"Yeah… Due to bad weather…"

There was a beat of silence between the two, quiet enough to possibly hear a pin drop had it not been for the winter winds brushing past the duo. Though in a moment's notice, loud and rowdy laughter burst forth from Mingyu, filling the air with raucous glee emanating from the stoic giant himself. He had turned away from the car, leant forward with his hands on his knees and his back facing (y/n), continuing to just laugh his heart out.

Still feeling the remnants of humiliation from before, (y/n) couldn't help but to also smile at Mingyu's glee, something she had almost forgotten not only existed but had happened just the day before. She was now realizing his smiles were few and far—something which would have to be treasured on these rare occurrences in which they did fleetingly occur.

"So you thought you could brave the storm on your own?" Mingyu asked as he turned back to her, face reddened from his momentary fit of laughter. (y/n) bit her lips, hesitantly nodding at his inquiry. Another amused huff out of him, and Mingyu was returning to the car as if nothing had happened, shutting the hood with a loud shutter. "Kid, you are something else, I'll give you that."

He had begun to walk off, and (y/n) quickly snagged her duffel bag from the backseat before rushing back to him in a panic, dragging her feet through the dense snow obstructing their way lest she lose her guide with his persistently long strides.

"So what's wrong with my car?" (y/n) asked shakily, managing to catch up with Mingyu's pace, though barely being able to maintain such endurance.

"Battery."

"Battery?"

"I think your battery died."

"My battery died?"

"Probably."

(y/n) furrowed her brows in thought, breaths labored as she began to finally slow down and lag behind, allowing him to walk ahead.

"Why would it die? Do I need to charge it?"

Mingyu was silent for a moment as he persisted through the snow, just long enough of a delay for her to acknowledge the lapse in discourse.

"It happens sometimes in the cold. Usually when the car is inactive, but I guess with the cold and your long trip, it overexerted your battery."

"What do we do?"

"I know a mechanic in town. I'll talk to him about checking it out and verifying. If it can be jump started, then we're good. If not, you'll probably need a new battery."

"I can get a new battery?"

"Kid–" Mingyu suddenly stopped in both his speech and his route, sighing to himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He turned to look at (y/n), standing there huffing in exhaustion with her bag practically dragging behind her weak form. Sympathetically, he approached, taking the strap into his hands and gently pulling it from her grasp, haphazardly tossing it over his own shoulders. Another look at her, and Mingyu sighed in defeat. "Yes, you can change batteries."

"How do you know my battery is dead?" He had begun walking again, knowing her questions would be spitfiring at this point and at this point just wanting to get inside as soon as possible.

"I don't, but from context clues alone, it seems to be the problem."

"Have you changed a battery before?"

"Yes."

"How hard is it?"

"Easier than changing a tire for me."

"How hard is that?"

By now, they'd made it to the clearing outside his cabin, a mere few feet from the sanctity of the house, but he was forced to stop once more, rooted in his place and staring at (y/n) with an incredulous and almost worried look in his eyes. (y/n) was none the wiser, watching Mingyu with large curious eyes, awaiting his answer as if having asked the most normal of questions humanly possible. As if having not admitted how entirely unprepared she was for whatever heroic trek she had stumbled into thoughtlessly.

"You've never changed a tire before?" Again, as casually as ever, she shook her head no, staring at Mingyu as his face contorted from that initial shock of the moment to something akin to pity. Not necessarily directed towards her; perhaps, instead, to her situation as a whole.

He took a deep breath as he finally stepped into his cabin, not really knowing how long he'd stood there staring in awe, though immediately marched his way over to her room, tossing the duffel bag unceremoniously onto the bed and awaiting for its owner to arrive. Once she did, Mingyu gestured towards the bag.

"Show me what you packed." (y/n) was left stunned in her place, gloved hands nervously picking at the zipper of her coat, as if waiting for Mingyu to either elaborate or just dismiss his statement as a joke. Though he continued to stand there as resolute as ever.

There was this hardened look in his, complementing his equally stone-like bearing as he stood there, towering above her with his arms crossed and a permanent scowl etched into his features. Even with his imposing figure, (y/n) could sense no hostility in his mannerisms, the man as docile as he seemingly always is. That fact hadn't deterred her nerves from flaring beneath her many layers, prickling with anxiety as to what he could possibly be insinuating.

"What I… packed?" (y/n) softly asked, glancing to the pathetic cream colored bag lying defenselessly across the bed. Mingyu hummed in confirmation, taking a step back and granting her space to do as he said.

With not much choice, nor any real reason not to follow his bidding, she warily approached the bag. The deafening zip of its seal sounded through the otherwise still room, and she began to slowly unpack the contents within. Somehow, she felt even more embarrassed now than when she admitted moments ago that she willingly drove into a snowstorm. And Mingyu's silence didn't help the matter at all.

The man simply hovered behind her, staring down at the arrangement of clothes scattered across the bed. (y/n) remained where she was, allowing Mingyu to stretch his arm past her to retrieve one of the many sweaters piled together. He rubbed the material between his thumb and index, scrutinizing the fabric for everything it's worth, and he proceeded to do the same procedure on her pants as well.

"You were going to a resort?" He asked, deep voice shattering the tense atmosphere.

"Yes." Her voice was soft, barely above a breath; a compete contrast to the assertive tone of Mingyu's. He stepped away, sparing one last glance at her wardrobe before turning around and leaving the room.

"We'll have to buy you better sweaters," he announced as he wandered off, once more leaving (y/n) to quickly scurry after him. "And better pajamas. The jeans are fine. Maybe some long underwear to go along with it."

"What's wrong with my clothes?" She asked, bounding out the door after Mingyu, grimacing as the harsh winds beat against her exposed face once more.

"Won't keep you warm."

The statement was, much like everything else he's said thus far, blunt. Uttered with that same serious, unwavering tone of his. Not even spoken directly to her face as he walked off, but she couldn't help but pause. Standing there in the snow, staring ahead as Mingyu made his way to the large truck off to the side of the clearing. At this point, she knew Mingyu. It's been perhaps a few hours altogether that they've been in each other's company, but she's confident in saying she knew him. She knew how he spoke. She knew how he conducted himself. She knew how closed off he was.

She knew that simple statement was perhaps the kindest thing he could've possibly stated.

It had already been a given that beneath that cold, rough exterior of his which he seemed to tirelessly preserve every second he could, he was a kind and gentle soul, but it just touched her heart to see that tender side of his emanating through the cracks of his facade.

"Let's go, kid." His voice, projecting across the clearing to where she had remained motionless for who knows how long, suddenly jostled her back to reality, shaking away the delirium to see Mingyu standing, passenger door open. He gestured with a nod of his head to the seat. "We're heading into town."

Picturesque.

It was the first word to come to mind as they drove into town. An idyllic little settlement in the middle of presumably nowhere. A plethora of mom-and-pop shops greeted her as they drove down main street, family owned businesses with their own quaint peculiarities; a welcoming difference from the ubiquitous monotony of modern architecture in the city. Instead, everything here felt outdated, away from the all-encompassing grasp of capitalism that condemned everything to that trademark minimalistic existence that encapsulates society for mere marketing purposes.

In a word, refreshing.

Even with the piles of snow scattered about and pushed aside, people were seen walking down the sidewalks and walkways, popping in and out of shops and mingling with one another. Another rarity for someone who has lived in the city all her life, accustomed to the avoidance tactics I trained in her so she wouldn't have to make eye contact with people. She admired the idealistic scene presented here, head pressed against the cool glass of the window, watching the sights pass her by like a vintage film reel.

"Does everyone live in the woods like you?" (y/n) asked, smiling at the sight of a man walking his little white dog. Another moment of silence from Mingyu, as if deep in thought, considering what to say, always calculating ways to give her just enough information to sate her, yet never giving too much away.

"No," he answered. "They all live together in town. Everyone knows each other. Everyone is each other's neighbor."

"That's cool," (y/n) responded, peeling herself from the glass to look at Mingyu. He was impassive, merely staring straight ahead, left arm propped against the door with his head resting on his fist whilst gripping the steering wheel with his right. He spared her not even a glance, already knowing her inquisitive self just as she knows him. She gazed out the window another time, this time seeing an elderly man helping his wife down the steps of a storefront, bringing a bittersweet smile to (y/n)'s face. "To have that sense of community with people. Hanging out with loved ones, saying hello to people who pass by… Never having to be alone."

"Yeah."

She didn't comment this time. No snide remarks or a random spree of questions. Not even another probing glance at Mingyu. Because this time, unlike their other conversations thus far, there was a consensus. A silent accord between the two of them. A yearning that neither wanted to address. A commonality shrouded by mysterious, untold backgrounds of the both of them. And something which may never resurface before she's off and away from this place, bidding Mingyu and whatever story he holds deep within his heart farewell for good.

Why did it hurt so much to think about that already?

Mingyu pulled over to the side of the road, unbuckling and stepping out, prompting (y/n) to follow suit and trail behind Mingyu.

'Jeon Mechanics' is what the faded blue sign read. Much like the other storefronts of the town, this one was nestled between two other establishments on either side, not really sparing room for a garage of sorts that (y/n) would usually associate mechanics with.

Walking into the place, she was bombarded by the thick stench of rubber and oil as it lingered heavily in the air, causing her to grimace some before gradually adjusting to the scent. Mingyu seemed unbothered as he approached the back of the store. Each and every aisle was barren, devoid of any life, and (y/n) would've believed the place to be closed had it not been for the rapid knocking that drew her to Mingyu once more.

Emerging from a closed office, an equally tall man appeared. Crudely cut and choppy hair that somehow, with its generally messy ensemble, worked well for his sharp and attractive features. Upon seeing Mingyu, the man smiled, pushing his wire framed glasses further up his nose as a smile spread across his face.

"Mingyu," he spoke fondly, reaching out to hug the man. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? It's been ages since I last saw you."

Mingyu briefly reciprocated the hug with a warm smile of his own, though still faint. Hesitant, almost. The hug was quick and ended abruptly, characteristic of Mingyu's persona, though the man seemed none the wiser to his friend's mannerisms. By the time the man's eyes met (y/n)’s, Mingyu had begun speaking.

"This is (y/n)." Mingyu briefly gestured towards the girl behind him. "Her car broke down. I think it's a battery issue. Do you think you could drive down to the cabin when you have the time and check it out?"

The man merely stared at (y/n), eyes slightly widened, as if startled by her appearance that he hadn't noticed prior. She could see him attempting to mask that surprise, returning his gaze to Mingyu with a nod.

"Yeah, I can check it out. But if you think it's a battery issue, I'm just going to assume it's a battery issue." He briefly replied, voice wavering some, though Mingyu didn't seem to notice, or at least didn't seem to care as he turned back to (y/n).

"Go to the general store down the road. It should be a few shops away. Ask Martha for sweaters and pajamas."

(y/n) nodded, bidding the mechanic adieu, who was still staring at her with this perturbed expression across his face. It was unsettling, as if he'd seen an alien, and it only had her mind spiraling as she left his store. She briefly, albeit humorously, explored the popular concept of those tucked away towns in movies, tight knit communities that conspire with one another to conceal murders in their morbid ritualistic tendencies, taking tourists so no one can trace it back to them. And looking around at all the smiling faces, this place seemed to have the potential to be that unhinged.

But the silly idea had washed away the moment she walked into the general store—quite literally titled 'General Store.'

"Good morning," a chipper voice greeted (y/n) as she walked in, her entry accompanied by a bell chiming above her head. An elderly woman came circling the cash register, making her way towards her. She had kind eyes with an equally kind smile, face marred with wrinkles from a life well lived. Grayed and wiry hair neatly curled along her shoulders, pink pins holding it in place, matching with the pink earrings dangling from her ears. She had briefly looked over (y/n), a simple once over to the unfamiliar stranger, and her smile seemed to grow even warmer. "Oh, are you visiting?"

"Yes, for now at least," (y/n) responded, grinning back to the woman, all prior frivolous thoughts of abduction and ritualistic sacrifice now buried away as she returned to reality. "My… guide told me to buy sweaters and pajamas here? Would that be alright?"

"Of course!" The woman placed a gentle hand on (y/n)'s back, ushering her further down one of the aisles to a corner of clothing. It wasn't a necessarily large assortment of clothes given the rather small and crammed building, though it was a staggering amount considering how this seemed to be the only nook of the store which housed these items. "These are our winter clothes, so anything from here should be good for you."

"I'm sorry to bother you again," (y/n) quickly sputtered out before the woman could hobble off. "I'm not sure what he really wants from me. He says he wants me to be warm… Could you give me recommendations?"

"Certainly, dear!" She returned to (y/n)'s side thumbing through the selection carefully, pulling out sweaters upon sweaters and handing them to (y/n). "Seems like a nice man you've got there."

"Yes, he really is." There wasn't much she knew of Mingyu, that much was for certain. There were many things she still questioned about him, and perhaps will forever question. He was closed off and forever distant. He was rough around the edges, terse in his mannerisms, and overall a conflicting character to try and unravel. But one thing was for certain, an undeniable facet of Mingyu that seemed to transcend his many other layers, and that was that he was perhaps the most gentle soul she'd ever met, or perhaps will ever meet. A kindness that remained shrouded by his other characteristics, though still managed to claw its way out of the darkness that plagued Mingyu's entity.

Even as she paid for the clothes, she couldn't help but to silently hope this pleased him. It seemed Mingyu constantly gave, yet never received. There wasn't much she could offer. Merely the fact that she took his advice and did well in following it.

"Thank you for your help today!" (y/n) smiled as she lifted the hefty bags of her new outfits. The woman giggled, waving off (y/n)'s gratitude.

"I should be thanking you!" She insisted. "I'll sleep well tonight knowing I had the pleasure of dressing such a lovely lady."

(y/n) left the store smiling, bidding Martha farewell and once more facing the unforgiving cold of the outside. Ahead of her on the side of the road was Mingyu, leant against his truck, staring off into space. His features were tensed, his jaw clenched and his brows stitched together. What in the world could have happened to a man like Mingyu? What has he endured to be this reclusive? The question ate away at her. She had no right to invade his life. He invited her in out of the kindness of his heart, and all she's done thus far is psychoanalyze him and question his entire existence.

"I said a few new sweaters, not a whole new wardrobe." Mingyu's voice called out to her, drawing her back to reality as he drew closer.

"I'll have you know this was all very important. Martha wanted to dress me up as much as I wanted to be dressed up." Mingyu took the bags out of her hands, effortlessly lifting them and making his way back to his truck. "Plus, I love a good shopping trip." He snorted at her addition, rolling his eyes as he opened her door for her.

"Alright, get in." She could feel his hand resting on her back as she heaved herself into the truck, its staggering height an incessant obstacle of hers that now even Mingyu has taken it upon himself to ensure she doesn't all but fall and die. Once he was sure she was in her seat and secure, he closed the door, making his way around the front to his side.

Martha stood at the entrance of the store, watching the two with this soft, fond smile on her face. Mingyu had raised a hand her way, greeting her as she greeted him back. Her eyes lingered on them, even after Mingyu had climbed in and drove off, and (y/n) briefly wondered why. Perhaps it was a special occasion to see Mingyu in town and she wanted to savor the moment for as long as she could before he'd disappear in the woods again. At least that's all she could assume of the matter.

"Wonwoo has some appointments today," Mingyu spoke, breaking the silence within the vehicle as he drove down the long stretch back to the cabin. "He said he'll try to come over after work. Is that alright with you?"

"Of course," (y/n) insisted, turning away from the immutable scenery of forest and to the man staring ahead, that rigid, stoic expression plastered to his face once more. "I wouldn't want to disrupt his day. I can wait." It was quiet again with only the sounds of the low hum of white noise from the car driving. Again, (y/n) checked Mingyu's face, still unchanging. "As long as that's okay with you."

"Why would it matter to me?" He asked, voice low and muffled as he absentmindedly rubbed at his bottom lip with his free arm, propped up against the door once more.

"I'm sort of living in your house," (y/n) laughed out. "I don't want to burden you with my presence any longer if that's not what you want." His fingers had stopped, merely resting over his mouth when she finished her words. "I also value your opinion. You seem to know your stuff. I feel like if you told me to just go and build my own cabin, I'd probably find myself trying to do so just because you told me to."

Mingyu didn't respond this time. Not even with one of his noncommittal, absentminded grunts. Though (y/n) just chalked it up to the fact that they were now close to the cabin. There was a driveway of sorts, she noticed. A narrow path cleared of trees that you turn into from the main road, and it leads right to the clearing outside the house. How long had Mingyu been out here to have prepared all of this? To have actually created his own little road of sorts, made all of these accommodations for the sole purpose of removing himself from any sort of community? It was undeniably impressive, a true display of his undeniable will and perseverance, though also maddeningly concerning. How absolutely isolated Mingyu had forced himself to become.

"Go inside," Mingyu finally spoke, stopping the vehicle in its designated corner by the trees. His voice had startled her some, with its low rumble disturbing her thoughts and prompting her to look to him. "I'll carry your stuff in."

She didn't protest with him. On any other occasion, she'd probably argue, perhaps for the responsibility of at least one bag, but with one gander at Mingyu, it became obvious any sort of quarrel would be futile. The distant glaze in his eyes as he methodically turned off the truck and unbuckled his seatbelt, the lack of any glance towards her as if wary she'd press him more than she already has since meeting. He had closed himself off again.

With a final inhale, (y/n) followed his demand, slipping out from her seat and onto the snow with a muted crunch beneath her feet as she landed. Awkwardly trudging through the dense terrain, the atmosphere seemed deafeningly silent. There was the familiar sound of wind weaving between the tall pines, as well as that of the snow succumbing to the weight of her every step, and even distantly she could make out what seemed to sound like a rushing river.

Though there was no trace of Mingyu leaving. No sound of his heavy foot descending into the snow, nor the sound of his door slamming shut behind him. When the realization had come to her, she briefly glanced over at the truck, yet there was no sign of Mingyu getting her bags from the back as he had stated he'd do.

Once atop the front porch, she utilized the vantage point granted to check on him, only to see through the darkened rear window Mingyu's silhouette, still and unchanging as he sat there gripping his steering wheel. He stared ahead, only offering her an image of the back of his head, and (y/n) was left to speculate what could possibly be going on in it.

She didn't know for how long she stood there, arms wrapped around a wooden pillar of the cabin's porch, but she couldn't find it in herself to leave him behind. The sun had nearly reached its peak in the sky by the time Mingyu finally shifted, leaning his head back against his seat.

What could she have possibly said to trigger such a comatose state out of him? Her words were so insignificant to her that she had trouble even recounting what their conversation was about before he had gone silent. Though the lack of recollection didn't stop her from feeling immensely guilty. Perhaps she had offended him in some way without realizing. She didn't know his life, and so she couldn't avoid topics that could potentially trigger him.

The space between them had never felt more cavernous, and the only thought in her mind was how Mingyu was truly nothing more than a stranger to her. That connection with him that she'd seemed to conjure up in her mind over the past day was nothing more than a fanciful delusion. Perhaps a mechanism of her psyche to make her situation however comfortable it could possibly be. At the end of the day, however, Mingyu was just a kind man who had taken her into his home, and she was greatly overstaying her welcome and pushing more boundaries than should be tampered with.

The sound of the truck door opening drew her attention back to the truck, and she quietly watched as Mingyu gathered her shopping bags with ease, expression as blank as ever. His features were tense, a pinch in his brow that prompted an urge within her to rid his countenance of the tension, and his mouth was in a perpetual frown. Though when he turned to make his way to the cabin, his features dissipated when he came face to face with her. Albeit still a ways away.

"I thought I told you to head inside," he called forth, continuing his journey towards her, trekking through the snow without an ounce of struggle.

"I didn't hear you coming out of your truck." It was a simple response, as simple as she could make it without any form of personal opinion, though apparently not vague enough to go past Mingyu's radar. He glanced at her as he climbed the steps, but quickly walked by as he made his way inside.

"Come in. You'll catch a cold."

Mingyu had for the most part retreated to his room, opting to hide away for the remaining hours of the day and only briefly emerging to prepare lunch for the two of them. With the incident of earlier, though remaining unspoken between the two, had also encouraged (y/n) to follow suit in Mingyu's ways, choosing to remain within the sanctity of her own room, hesitant to wander the cabin—Mingyu's personal space— without his consent. Instead, she busied herself with folding her new clothes, checking for any reception, even meditating when the boredom truly hit.

The day passed by quickly, however, even with the strange atmosphere they'd created. Even going to the bathroom felt forbidden, lest she come across Mingyu, who she could only assume wanted to avoid her at all costs as well. And with the sun beginning to set, her hopes for Wonwoo repairing the car increased tenfold. Hopes that he'd arrive with the good news and she'd have a perfectly functional car once more.

A knock came soon after the sky had melted into this warm orange hue, the sunset hidden behind the sea of trees she resided in. A surge of excitement ran through her at the sound, and she all but leapt off the bed in a matter of seconds, ready to yank open the door and greet the mechanic once more, only to stop short at her own door once the implication of Wonwoo's presence truly settled in her head.

Sure, she'd have her car again, perhaps better than ever. She'd be able to finally meet with her parents as they had insisted, and she'd return to her normal day to day. Things would revert back to the way they've always been.

But also, with Wonwoo outside, it would also mean she'd really be leaving Mingyu today, and with no other reason to stay or return.

She'd leave with only the memory of his existence fresh in her mind, though inevitable to soon dissipate from her thoughts with time, as does the waning faculty of memory so often ensures. And when that time comes, what's there to be done? It felt terrifying to even consider. To perhaps one day forget everything of Mingyu.

It felt almost her obligation to be the sole holder of these memories of Mingyu, because if not her, then who? He was nestled away in the recesses of isolation, with only a distant town filled with people who each lived their own lives, and perhaps couldn't spare the sacrifice of remembering the desolate hermit within the woods.

The thought brought about a stern tension in her features, clenching her fists as she stared down at the grains of wood beneath her feet.

Mingyu saved her. He took her in. He went out of his way to ensure she could be safe during her stay and be able to proceed with her fixed car. Mingyu was brutish and curt, quiet and reserved. He preferred his own company to others, and at times his rough mannerisms can seem almost condescending in a way. But he was also inherently gentle. A kind soul within a foreboding vessel. Someone who would give his all for others and expect nothing back in return.

It was damn near unfair to be in such a situation as hers. To have to abide by the natural state of things, that being her approaching departure from Mingyu's care. It would be pure insanity to act the way her heart was at that moment, practically throwing a tantrum within her chest, physically revolting against touching the doorknob and leading her to Wonwoo. It had been less than 24 hours, but she couldn't deny that here in Mingyu's barren and somewhat haunting cabin in the middle of nowhere, she felt more on vacation than any other excursion she'd been on. It was a sense of comfort unheard of in her time. Perhaps she'd be satisfied with merely exchanging contact information with Mingyu, that way she'd always remain somewhat present in his life and he in hers, but knowing him, he'd refuse, or just outright ignore each and every one of her attempts at reaching out.

Damn it, she didn't want to go.

She could hear Mingyu's door across the way open, prompting her to hold her breath as she pressed the side of her head against the door. His socked feet padded through the house, footsteps loud and sluggish as they approached the front door.

"Hey," Wonwoo's voice spoke first as the door opened.

"Hey." Mingyu's response was terse, somehow managing to make a single syllable, one that even Wonwoo had just used, sound absolutely cold and brusque. "How's the car?"

"I actually wanted to talk to you guys about that." The response was not promising in the slightest, and (y/n) felt a drop in her stomach momentarily. But still, she persisted, waiting with bated breath for what was to come. "May I come in?"

There was a pregnant pause, and (y/n) could only imagine what was going on out there. Wonwoo's question felt odd, underlying intent laced in his words, though one (y/n) couldn't necessarily pinpoint—only identifying the lost yet hopeful lilt in his voice as he had spoken. Mingyu's silence was deafening. Not even the winds outside could salvage the tension rising in the air.

Briefly, she recalled earlier that day, standing outside and waiting for Mingyu to come to his senses again. How helpless she felt just watching him spiral down a dark rabbit hole from which she'd perhaps never bear witness to it. Failing in saving him as he had saved her.

The thought was enough to prompt (y/n) into tugging open her door, rushing out as casually as she could to attempt to salvage whatever was happening outside.

There stood both men, at first staring each other down. Mingyu's back was to her, though just from his stature, she could tell he was stiffened up, as if like a wild animal spooked by a noise nearby. Wonwoo, on the other hand, did not take that presumed predatory role of any sorts. In fact, he looked just as defenseless and startled as Mingyu, a worried gleam in his eyes that only ceased when acknowledging (y/n)'s presence.

"(y/n), right?" Wonwoo spoke again, his words briefly cracking as he called out to her. Mingyu didn't glance her way. He just remained as is, standing there, looking ahead at Wonwoo.

"Yes, that's me!" (y/n) sidled up beside Mingyu, absentmindedly ducking beneath his arm against the frame of the doorway. Clasping her hands together, she brought them up to her chin, looking at Wonwoo with that same forlorning hope still stirring within her. "How's my baby?"

Wonwoo chuckled some, but shook his head as he did so.

"It's like Mingyu said. Battery." (y/n) groaned at this, burying her face in her hands. "Batteries and cold weather don't exactly get along."

"So I've heard." She tossed a glance at Mingyu, but immediately turned back to Wonwoo. "What do we do?"

"Well, I can order you a new one. From the looks of it, your battery is a good five years old or so? It was about time it got a change."

"Five years?" Mingyu finally spoke, his voice filled with disbelief as he gaped at (y/n). "Five years, (y/n)?"

"Yes, Mingyu, five years." With a roll of her eyes, she returned to her conversation with Wonwoo, who seemed briefly taken aback by Mingyu speaking again after having gone mute just minutes before. "Go on."

"Right." Wonwoo snapped himself out of whatever daze he'd fallen into, clearing his throat as he resumed his diagnosis. "I can order a new one when I get back into town. For your make and model, we're looking at a battery maybe… $180, $190, give or take. Plus shipping here, it could range up to a good $200."

"That's fine." (y/n) waved dismissively. "What else?"

Wonwoo glanced back momentarily at Mingyu, hesitant to speak, though doing so anyway.

"Shipping here could take up to a week or two."

That was definitely news to her. A week or two. Nearly half a month. That's almost 4% of her entire year. Perhaps she was exaggerating with the scales of time she used to render this information, but still, it was quite definitely a shock, and one that she had not prepared herself for when she had stepped out of her room.

Just moments prior, thoughts of abandoning Mingyu haunted her. The threat of losing him somehow agonizing in her mind. Yet now, she was granted more time. As if a blessing from above. An answer to her worries. She was allotted another chance to further embrace the presence of this peculiarity she's found herself stumbling headfirst into.

This muted excitement bubbled within her, an emotion she could only describe as giddy now consuming her being from within. She was on the precipice of losing it, to affirm Wonwoo’s notions and celebrate the circumstances presented before her. The storm that both canceled her flight and trapped her right in front of Mingyu’s cabin, her absentminded nature in never having changed her battery since she first got this car, even her parents for scheduling this vacation out of the blue with no warning whatsoever for her. All of it has inevitably led to this moment where she can continue to infiltrate this man's livelihood and turn his whole world topsy turvy, though that thought was what finally grounded her back to reality.

She blinked at Wonwoo, pursing her lips together in anticipation before slowly turning to meet Mingyu's eyes. As expected, he'd zoned out once more, staring ahead blankly, as if not having a single thought in his head. Or perhaps his thoughts were far too cumbersome to even assort through them, leaving him in that common state of absent mindedness he so often sinks into. Either way, Mingyu was withdrawn for perhaps the umpteenth time since she first met him the day prior, all the while she was so very desperately present in the moment.

Looking up at him felt as if time had begun to slow, an infinitesimal pause as she began to rifle through the emotions that seemed to run rampant with Wonwoo’s words. Upon first impressions, it seemed ever clear how enthused she was to spend more time in this little isolated world. So different from what she's accustomed to, and at times maddeningly still and uneventful. Mingyu served as an infinitely interesting character in which she could spend a lifetime dissecting his every thought and whim and still have more to analyze. And as bland as it all seemed at first, this haven he's created for himself felt so unbearably quaint and comforting, like the warmth of a bed calling you back to its embrace on a chilly morning, begging you to abandon your responsibilities in lieu of a cozy slumber. It was undeniable how attached she had become to this place in a matter of hours, perhaps out of mere curiosity, or perhaps out of something more. A desperation for something different in a life with little to no variation from what she's grown used to.

Yet upon further inspection, it seemed her emotions, once deceptively simple and perhaps overstated, were in fact still deeply muddled with conflicting thoughts and second guessing. Beneath it all lay the cold reality of it all. That a week or two was no laughing matter. It not only impacted her own schedule, but it also greatly impeded upon Mingyu, ever the generous host. Taking a step back to view the situation from a different perspective, it honestly bewildered her how absolutely blindsided she had been to have almost immediately leapt straight into this without any further thought on the matter. As if viewing Mingyu merely as a social experiment. A lab rat for her to study to her heart's content, continuing to poke and prod at the careful tension he had hidden away until she finally pushes him beyond his limit, destroying the harmony he had worked tirelessly to preserve in his tumultuous life, merely for her own satisfaction in having dug up what should've remained buried away in the recesses of Mingyu’s life. Now with the prospect of remaining for a few days more, although initially exactly what she wanted, now felt more burdensome than anything else, reminding her of what exactly she was to Mingyu. A stranger he brought in out of the kindness of his heart.

“I suppose I have no other choice, right?” She found herself saying aloud, quickly turning back to Wonwoo to distract him from the stiffened Mingyu beside her. If Wonwoo had noticed anything, he didn't mention it, nodding along to (y/n)’s words with a small grin.

“I’ll swing by again tomorrow when I get confirmation about the purchase.” Wonwoo spared another glance to Mingyu, though the man remained as is, still seemingly processing the news related to him. With nothing else to do, (y/n) softly nudged Mingyu back into the house and away from the doorframe, bidding a retreating Wonwoo farewell before closing the door.

Silence penetrated the cabin once more. A low fire crackled away in the living room, and the incessant white noise of wind against the wooden walls surrounded them, yet the silence remained as prevalent as can be. The longer Mingyu remained frozen, the more dread seemed to seep into (y/n)’s bones. This deep, unnerving guilt that clenched at her being, rooted her in her place. She felt more unwelcomed now than she had initially believed herself to be when he first brought her here. That speech of his that once settled her nerves and rationalized her thoughts, his kind words regarding how he brought her in to his abode for the purpose of saving her life, now seemed to be nothing more than a recitation of some sort, meaningless in its existence and a mere formality with little to no intention in its presentation. She felt out of place, alien to an environment she was slowly becoming accustomed to before having that illusion forcibly ripped away from her.

Mingyu just stood there, as did she. He stood there with that blank expression, the one that was near impossible to read, and her thoughts spiraled the longer they remained this way. Memories of him sitting in his truck for God knows how long, deep in contemplation merely because of some words she said to him. And the guilt only seemed to increase by the minute.

It was strange, this very moment in time in which (y/n) was faced with these circumstances at hand. Strange in the sense that this was perhaps the first time she ever had to properly reflect upon herself and her actions.

Recounting the events which had led up to the present she resides in now, she looked back up on her initial insistence to do something on her own for the first time, and how miserably that unraveled to the point that she could've very well died in the frigid and unforgiving winter outside. Then the moment Mingyu had held out his hand to her, offering her support in her time of need. It seemed that the determination which once plagued her mind to a blinding and careless degree seemed to dissipate, once more succumbing to the treatment she had grown so accustomed to in her lifetime. Being catered to, getting everything she ever wanted, never truly working for what she gets because why should she? She'll get it at the end of the day no matter what.

Though now none of that applied. Mingyu was not some accomodation she could merely exploit and be done with once she's off and on her own once more. The fact that he had gone out of his way to help her at such a dire time, and for her only repayment thus far having been to embroil him in a myriad of psychological meltdowns against his own volition, it began to really settle in. The reality that awaited her all this time. The fact that she may be exactly that: a burden.

Mingyu had slowly shuffled over to the living room, sitting on the couch and staring into the fire, leaving (y/n) rooted in her position right alongside the entryway, mouth agape and eyes become glassier by the second as these thoughts that slowly accumulated in her head began to drown her in their breadth. The silence hasn't helped any, the sheer unacknowledgement on Mingyu’s part seemingly stabbing a gaping wound into her heart that she had never once felt before. A wholly new experience she was not prepared for. And suddenly, that determination that once filled her just the day prior came back with a vengeance, and she found herself rushing back to the guest room, tossing in whatever item of hers she could spot lying about before zipping up and slugging the duffel bag onto her shoulders.

To be completely honest, she wasn't sure what it was that had suddenly hit her. This emotion inside her wasn't light and fun like it had felt when she ventured out to drive to the ski resort. Instead, it was heavy, like a gaping pit deep in her stomach. This uncomfortable churning that twisted her guts into knots and shook her to her core. Every step felt agonizing, as if the walls around her were not that of a home or even a retreat, but like a cell closing in upon her until she was on the brink of collapse, until her lungs cried for fresh air. She needed to get out of here. She needed to forget all of this ever happened.

Stepping back into the main living area, Mingyu hadn't moved an inch. He sat there on that old couch, staring at the fireplace, so deep in contemplation that he hadn't even noticed (y/n) standing but a few feet away, bag in hand.

She took the moment to collect herself, hands digging into the straps of her luggage in a way to ground herself. Carefully, her eyes traced over Mingyu once more, taking in the enigma of a man once more before she'd most likely never see him again. The furrow of his brow when he's lost in thought, bringing tension to his face in every sense of the word from his pursed lips to his clenched jaw to the way his eyes narrow into an unintentional glare. She cemented into her memory the slope of his nose and where that birthmark was nestled just beneath the tip of it. She wished she could see his smile once more. That wolfish grin accompanied by the most jubilant laughter she ever heard. His sharp canines that always made an appearance, bringing this youthful quirk that she found undeniably charming. A kind and handsome gentleman with a history to never be unraveled. That's who Mingyu was. That's the man who lives here in the middle of nowhere. The man who saved her life and showed her just a glimpse of the reality she had isolated herself from. In such a short amount of time, this character managed to sway her in ways she had never considered, and now she had to say her farewells.

“Thank you so much for everything,” (y/n) began, her voice as steady as she could muster given how she was quite literally on the brink of utter collapse. “I can never truly pay you back for everything you've given me. I'm very appreciative of your hospitality.” Nothing seemed to stir the man. He hadn't even once shifted to acknowledge her talking, not even a glance her way. Gulping, she continued on, forcing her eyes to remain on him, to take in as much as him as she could in the moment. “I hope… life is more forgiving for you.”

With that, she quickly turned around, shuffling over to the front door dejectedly. That is until a sudden procession of heavy footsteps greeted her, growing near and louder in their sequence until they came to a sudden and abrupt halt.

A large hand slammed down on the front door before her, startling (y/n) and causing her to jump back, only to bump into the large and imposing body now settled behind her.

“Where are you going?” His voice was low, more intimidating than she had ever heard him. No matter how much teasing she threw his way, he had never once sounded this irate. Though now it seemed shed finally gotten him to crack his resolve in some manner of the word, albeit not in the way she had initially wanted from him.

“I'm sorry?” She muttered, eyes shakily trained on the front door where his hand remained, caging her into this corner between the entrance and himself.

“Where are you going?” This time, it sounded more so a demand than anything else. A domineering intonation, one she could only compare to that of a drill sergeant of sorts in how cold it seemed.

“I don't know.”

“What?”

“I don't know!” Perhaps she had taken the drill sergeant analysis too literally, voice now louder and clearer as if practicing her projection capabilities. Mingyu remained quiet for just a moment more before he continued.

“You don't know.”

“No!”

“Do you have a death wish?”

Before (y/n) could question him any further, the hand once blocking the door slid down until it landed upon the doorknob, twisting it and yanking the door open. Though just ajar, (y/n) could see a plethora of snow whirling into the cabin, eager to penetrate the warmth of the house. The sound of winds picked up, no longer muffled from their position inside. Though perhaps the most concerning aspect of it all, (y/n) could see the way Mingyu had to use force on the door to keep it open to this precise degree, no more no less, fighting against the winds outside all to prove a point to her.

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ,” she pressed herself against Mingyu, as far back as she could get from the snowstorm waging outside. And once Mingyu could see how rattled she had gotten at just that momentary glimpse of the outside, he slammed the door shut again, silencing the barrage of wind once more.

It was quiet between the two at first, (y/n) still reeling from the terror outside, thoughts circulating on how she could've not only been unaware of the conditions outside, but also of how she would've been able to even set foot outside had she tried. Mingyu merely backed away, marching back into the center living area of the cabin, though instead of taking a seat at that couch again, he instead paced back and forth, absolutely fuming at his guest and her gall.

The standoff didn't last long, with (y/n) quickly turning to face Mingyu, completely unaware of the state he was in as she quickly and clumsily broke the silence.

“Is Wonwoo okay? Can we call him?”

If there were ever any wronger words to speak, (y/n) perhaps would find them with blissful ease, as she managed to finally find Mingyu’s final shred of patience.

“Wonwoo?” He asked incredulously, scoffing out his words in disbelief. He had stopped pacing, head quirked and staring at (y/n) who slowly but surely began to piece together Mingyu’s utter irritation. “Wonwoo should be the least of your concerns right now.” He raised an arm, pointing at the door behind her. “Did you not see that? Do you not realize what you were about to walk into? Are you so dense that you can't even realize that the person you should be most worried about is yourself?”

His eyes were alight with wrath, features hardening as he glowered before (y/n). Gone was the gentle giant she had quickly come to associate with Mingyu, instead replaced by someone entirely different. Perhaps this was always Mingyu. Someone so utterly human to have such flaws as this. Such emotional turmoil to be able to feel and present his anger in such a way. Someone who carries a facade of uniformity, but just as everyone else, conceals the depth of his emotions brewing beneath like a volcano ready to erupt.

Yet even at this moment, (y/n) found Mingyu so terribly intriguing. So beautifully human in all of his creation, without any pretense or subterfuge which was so commonly found in the circles she associates herself with. So raw in this performative sense, that even as he berated her with this dangerous fury broiling within him, she found him to be so terribly and utterly beautiful.

Mingyu scoffed at (y/n)’s silence, retracting his hand to rub at his temple in disbelief.

“It seems it's just in your nature to go into whatever endeavor you find yourself in without any regard or second thought. Even now, you're standing here in your own little world, not realizing the gravity of the situation.” He stepped closer, now standing right in front of (y/n), head in hands as he attempted to ease the oncoming headache. “How have you managed to survive all these years when you haven't a single shred of precaution in your body?”

Again, she remained quiet, blinking up at Mingyu, starstruck by it all, from the sudden shift in mannerism on Mingyu's part to the whirlwind of emotions circulating through her system, that she couldn't quite wrap her head around his words. Theoretically, she understood where he was coming from, understood the innate kindness that resided deep beneath his rough exterior, having seen it through his actions and words to the point that it had now been an undeniable fact of his character. Though delving anymore beyond that, she found herself merely drawing a complete blank, so absolutely entrenched in her own thoughts and her own worries that she struggled in understanding why Mingyu would be so concerned about the likes of her. To the point that he'd break his character like this.

He dropped his arms to his side, face fully revealed to her where she could spectate the harshness of his countenance now riddled with all sorts of wrinkled lines from his tension and irritated redness from his stewing anger.

“You drive out here in the middle of our worst season in a car wholly unsuited for this weather or the distance you're trekking.” His voice had lowered significantly, no longer carrying that loud timbre he had initially possessed, though still laced with exasperation, telling (y/n) to not provoke him any further. “You bring thin clothes that can't withstand air conditioning, let alone a blizzard of this caliber.” Shyly, she tugged at the sleeves of the sweater she was wearing, ironically being that of the thick wool piece Mingyu himself had to give to her lest she gets frostbite from merely walking outside for just a few minutes. “And you have tried to sleep in your car not once, but twice in the middle of a snowstorm.”

She shrunk with every word he uttered, though especially with his final point. The realization of him having known the objective of her abrupt departure without her even having to clarify unnerved her, and (y/n) had begun to further recline into herself, wanting nothing more than to disappear. She knew it was a bad idea, given the lecture he gave her just the day before, but it was all she could consider what with her insecure and guilt ridden mind still clouding her rationality.

The guilt seemed to only grow the longer she remained there, thoughts further spiraling into the void. Mingyu had stalked off, presumably to cool off, though he didn't trail too far. He remained in view of (y/n), still residing in the same vicinity, just as far as he could possibly be from her whilst still remaining in her line of sight. Somehow, even this added to the flames engulfing her from within.

It had become too much for her to handle. These agonizing thoughts that only served to further mangle her, twisting her into this unrecognizable form. A version of herself she'd never had the opportunity of meeting. Someone so absolutely broken inside, devoid of any sort of life. A reflection of herself and what resided beyond the facade she carries around her, clutching onto this false reality she's blindsided herself with to hide away the fragility that lurked beneath. This gaping emptiness became all too apparent to her, and thoughts of herself and her character haunted her consciousness.

Who is she? What's her purpose? What is she any good for?

Why did it take her being forcibly stranded in a cabin in the woods with an emotionally unavailable lumberjack of a man to come to the realization that she does not feel like a person? Perhaps she had never felt like a person. Merely playing the role she was given upon birth, slotting herself into society like everyone else, assuming her position as a socialite with ease, though at the cost of her humanity.

She hadn't felt the first tear cascading down her face, nor the second, nor the third. She hadn't felt the onslaught of moisture streaked across her cheeks, nor the tears collecting at her chin. She hadn't felt the way her body quaked with emotion, trembling as if out there in the storm with nothing clinging to her person. She hadn't even felt how she choked through the first sob, shattering the stillness of the atmosphere with a defeated and broken cry which finally jostled Mingyu from his tirade.

What she had felt was a hand upon her elbow, in the softest and most gentle manner she'd ever been handled before. She looked up through her teary gaze, choking on a momentarily surprised gasp, having not heard Mingyu approaching, though upon seeing the disheartened expression across his face, she dropped her defenses. Another sob spilled from her lips, and then another, until she had begun fully crying, eyes shut and tears freely falling without any regard to her surroundings.

Mingyu seemed at a loss, keeping his hands on her arms, thumbs rubbing her through the thick wool material she was encased in. If he wanted to do anything more, he showed no indications of doing so. Until she finally spoke her first set of words since the altercation had begun.

“I want to go home.”

Somehow those words alone were able to shatter whatever distance Mingyu had attempted to put between them, and he slowly drew her into his chest in as soft a hug as he could muster. His hands rubbed along her back, standing there and holding up her defeated form as best he could, letting her cry her heart out into his sweater.

His touch was careful and soft, yet she could feel the clumsiness slipping through his actions here and there. The way his hands hesitated at moments in their path, the stiffness of his arms encircling her, the stutter of his breathing where her ear rested. Yet all of these imperfections felt as comforting to her as could be. The frigidity and unfamiliarity of his intentions drew her away from the overwhelming emotions wreaking havoc to her mind, grounding her back in a place away from it all.

A safe and warm place which smelled like pine needles and mint, with the scratchy material of a worn sweater scraping against her cheek and a deep, warm chest breathing steadily against her ear.

“I'm sorry,” Mingyu softly uttered once (y/n)’s tears had quelled. “I'm sorry for being an asshole. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that.”

(y/n) felt one last tear slip away before she slowly shut her eyes and hugged Mingyu back, savoring the comfort of a true hug she'd perhaps never feel again in her lifetime. A genuine, caring, thoughtful embrace unlike any she's faced before. She didn't know for how long she went about savoring said hug, though eventually Mingyu began ushering her down the hall and to the bathroom, much the same as when he first picked her up. As he had done previously, he fetched her clothes from her bag forgotten by the entryway and a fresh set of towels before departing for the kitchen. It was a strange cycle they'd found themselves seemingly falling into, though not unwelcomed in any way.

She didn't want to linger as long as she had before, far too wary of her straying thoughts and what could result if she were to linger upon her prior revelations once more. And so after a quick and brisk shower, she scuffled back to the kitchen where Mingyu slaved over the stove again, back facing her and attention completely devoted to his task at hand.

Gently, she raised her fist to the doorway, knocking against the wood softly and drawing his gaze over to her momentarily.

“Looks like you don't need a bell after all,” he commented, offering a small grin her way before returning to his dish. “I'm nearly done with dinner. I wanted you to eat right away, so I didn't want to make another soup. They usually have to brew for a bit.”

“I think I'd like anything you cook for me.” This elicited a pleased hum from Mingyu, and another minute quirk of his lips. The sight settled (y/n)’s nerves, and she found herself comfortably sinking into the chair she's claimed as her own at this point.

Dinner was for the most part silent between the two. There was the occasional commentary on either of their parts, (y/n) thanking and complimenting Mingyu and his cooking, Mingyu probing her for dinner suggestions and preferences, the occasional joke slipped in here and there. Thankfully, there were no eggshells which needed to be traipsed over with caution. As if the events of the previous hour hadn't even occurred. And once more, (y/n) found herself intrigued by and rather thankful for Mingyu's aloofness. Without fail, he returned to how he had been when they had first met, with his quiet, somber demeanor, impish grin whenever he pokes fun at her, reserved and calculative. There was an edge of withdrawal in the way he conducted himself, and (y/n) could tell that there had been a defense put up whilst she showered, though it didn't seem wholly false. Overall, it felt as if Mingyu allowed her to see a part of himself he had been wary of revealing to just anyone.

The lighthearted dinner had come to an end, and they had once more cleaned up the kitchen and headed to their rooms. Mingyu was hesitant as he stood before his door, neither wanting to initiate the farewells nor respond to hers. Instead, he stood there, head down turned and facing the wooden floorboards while his hand clenched upon the doorknob leading to his room.

“I wanted to apologize again,” He spoke softly, more so a rumble of voice than anything else, yet it easily carried through the stillness of the cabin. “I'm not… a person who spends time with others often. I sometimes forget how to act. And I'm really sorry for my outburst earlier.”

“It's okay,” (y/n) responded quietly. “I also don't really know how to act around others.” She didn't want to elaborate right now. She didn't want to revisit how fake and performative her life is. She didn't want to explain how every single person she's been around up to this point has had an agenda and ulterior motives whenever they communicate with her. Though seeing Mingyu’s defeated form, shoulders slouched over and head refusing to lift from where he stood, she found herself skipping over it all and rushing to the end. “But I think I'm figuring it out the more I'm with you.”

Mingyu's head had finally risen from where he had been staring at the floor, brown eyes now meeting (y/n)’s gaze. She felt her breath stutter seeing the doe eyed look he gave her. This momentary lapse in his facade where she could see so clearly how vulnerable he truly was. The sheer emotion that rippled through his dark irises, showing her this image of a broken and startled boy, hiding away from the world like his life depended on it. It was startling how transparent he had become in that one second, so indisputably innocent and helpless he was, though in the next moment, his gaze had hardened once more, lips tightening into a straight line as he quickly averted his attention back to his door.

“I'm glad you're holding on. I understand your situation is rather stressful, so I wouldn't want to add on to that.” Quickly, he slipped into his room, slowly closing the door as he gave her one last glance. “Goodnight.”

With that, Mingyu had disappeared, leaving her standing there in the middle of the hall, awestruck at the encounter and still attempting to wrap her head around what she had seen. Or at least what she thinks she saw. It was so quick, yet she's sure she couldn't have been mistaken. There was still a part of her that yearned for more, persisted in pushing and learning and figuring out every aspect of Mingyu, though now a larger part of her seemed to be taking control. A part of her that seemed almost unrecognizable, yet not unwelcomed. A part of her which sought for change of any sort, thought especially within herself.

Her final thoughts as she drifted to sleep that night was the fond realization that she'd perhaps grow to like this new self.

— end of snowbound: chapter one

[tatumrileyslover]

Please Take Me Anywhere But Home

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Sejanus Plinth Headcannons ˚୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Pairing: Sejanus Plinth x Capital!Reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: nothing really it’s just fluffy, lil bit of self doubt from Sejanus, wintertime, small mention of the war :P

A/N: this is a small apology for pt2 of Capital Don’t Cry taking so long, this is kinda inspired by take me anywhere but home by Seulgi (my love) you’ll all need some cute Sejanus fluff before the angst of the next part (also none of this is proofread)

ೀ Sejanus is actually the sweetest boyfriend ever

ೀ is 100% a caregiver

ೀ you feel slightly ill he's making sure you're tucked up in bed and Ma will send an entire basket of homemade pastries

ೀ he's definitely a neat freak

ೀ if you hurt yourself in anyway at all, he has something for it

ೀ your stomach hurts, he has painkillers

ೀ you cut yourself, he has bandages

ೀ you have a killer migraine, he somehow has some morphling to help ease the pain.

ೀ and he tops it all off with a forehead kiss

ೀ definitely a paranoid type

ೀ knows you would cheat on him ever, but the second he sees you talking to someone else, he's immediately insecure

ೀ I think he feels he's not good enough for you

ೀ a successful Capital citizen, your family is very powerful, you already had your foot in some of the business your family owned.

ೀ he was just him, no matter how hard he tried, he'd never be seen as Capital, he was the black sheep of his family and the black sheep in the Academy

ೀ you never cared about his background

ೀ at the Academy he was the only person you met who wasn't self-centred and vain and that was really fucking attractive

ೀ probably thought you were only trying to be his friend because of a friend or something

ೀ definitely a bit cautious of you at first but that man is head over heels in no time

ೀ definitely the type to buy you flowers and a teddy bear

ೀ let's be honest you probably have a collection of teddy bears from every date you've ever been on

ೀ definitely love physical touch

ೀ always walking round hand in hand

ೀ loves walking you from class to class, just the feeling of your small hand in his makes his heart soar

ೀ he's also big on forehead kisses

ೀ he's definitely embarrassed of his Ma the first time you meet

ೀ she's pulling out the photo albums, all Sejanus's baby pictures on display

ೀ he genuinely wants the world to swallow him whole in that moment

ೀ assumes (incorrectly) that you'll see him as inferior, since you're seeing photos of him when he was in the district

ೀ it honestly makes you fall in love with him more, getting to see him in his childhood home

ೀ that night he walks you back to your apartment, snow falling, walking hand in hand

The Capital look beautiful at this time of year, arguably more than usual with Sejanus by your side. The cold breeze that left the tip of your nose red to the plush scarf Sejanus insisted you wear on your walk back to your apartment. The snow crunched beneath your feet, bring back memories of your childhood. Innocent memories of winters past spent making angels in the snow and the bleak, grim wintertime during the war. Although the snow brought unpleasant memories, it also brought you him.

His soft black hair had begun to turn white, sprinkled with powdery flakes. His Ma insisted he wear a woollen hat but he tore it off the second he was out of her sight. You could tell he was a bit embarrassed all night, she immediately took you in as if you were family, showing you all the family photos, including ones of him as a child.

He looked so cute, seeing him back in his home back in District Two. His Ma told stories of their town and flaunted photos of the picturesque mountains they lived near. Ma Plinth was proud of her home, and you could tell she missed it dearly. You wished you had the same type of bond with your home like she did but the Capital wasn't a place to be proud of. You felt like a songbird stuck in a cage, only to be ogled at. You wanted to be free, that's what drew you to Sejanus in the first place, he was a breath of fresh air. Lost in thought, you slowed down a bit.

"Are you alright?" Sejanus looked a bit concerned, he was convinced that his Ma's sales pitch of District Two had completely turned you off. He was almost certain that you'd never speak to him again after tonight. You turned you head to him happily humming examining his red cheeks.

"I was thinking..." Sejanus froze in his tracks, turning to face you, fearing the worst. His heart melted when he heard what came out of your mouth.

"After we graduate from the Academy, if you'd like to take a trip to Two, you could show me around the place, I'd love to learn more about where you grew up,"

"You want to visit District Two?" Sejanus was shocked, thinking the idea of visiting the districts would never cross your mind.

"Well, your Ma made one hell of a sales pitch, it sounds like the most beautiful place," you're soft hands pushed some hair out of his eyes, resting softly on his cheek, "you don't talk about it often and I know how important it is to you, I want to learn more about your life before you came here," Sejanus's hand covered your own, he looked at you in awe, he couldn't have dreamt up a better partner.

"Are you sure you want to?" You smiled brightly, nodding while pulling him closer to you. It was like a scene out of a movie, the snowflakes continued to fall in clusters across the quiet streets of the Capital, the entire city fell silent. His brown eyes bore into your soul, his hands tenderly cradled the back of your neck, pulling you in swiftly to unite your lips. He couldn't help but smile throughout the kiss, happiness radiating within him. He pulls back gently, his hand resting on your cheek, carefully examining your face.

"I'd go anywhere with you, just take me anywhere but home."

[chernabogs]

Hello! I rise from my tumblr slumber to humbly ask if you’d be interested in writing for Malleus, based on the prompt ‘I didn’t feel like I’d step into another world, but like it’d stepped into me. I knew I was there and forgot I’d left anything behind.’ from the prompt list you’d reblogged? I am…sensing much Malleus related angst potential here.

Hehe yes... sort of angst, sort of spooky

RUINS

Inc: Malleus, a fisherman, one ghost (maybe?) WC: 3.1k Warnings: Bleak LMAO. Drug use (smoking, alcohol, and tobacco thanks to the fisherman), ocean horror mention, supernatural horror mention. Summary: A boy looking for his mother visits the last place she was before her passing.

“It’ll be a few hours down the path just beyond the tree line. Impossible to miss if you ask me.” The man pauses to chew on his cigar, his dark gaze narrowing, before grabbing for his pint again. “Why’re you interested ‘n that place anyway? Right rotten, it is.” 

The Red Rabbit is a place renowned for information gathering and sharing—so long as you allow the bartender to continue pouring the mead. Malleus’ fingers reach up to brush along the hood of his travelling cloak as he pulls his own pint glass close. He’s used glamour to conceal most of his obvious features. If anyone saw the crown prince sitting in a dingy pub asking for directions, it would most certainly cause a stir. 

“Right rotten, is it?” Malleus raises the pint to his lips and allows the burning liquid to slide down his throat. Fae mead is noxious, only in that it can get you intoxicated in the first few sips—if you’re a human. The man who sits before Malleus has taken more than a few at this rate. “Perhaps it would be best to let me be the judge of that myself.”

His companion snorts before setting his cigar aside. He’s a fisherman; the scent of the ocean lingers on his person, and his hands are calloused from tossing and hauling nets into an ungiving depth. The shores of lands that had once been Briar Nations have been deprived of fish ever since they became isolated. The village’s landscapes, once vibrant, have now become jagged rocks and dead trees. The villagers are no different. “Go where y’want, see what y’wish. So long as yer not on the rob. That’ll get you killed.” 

This is another thing that Malleus has noticed regarding the village and its denizens—people mind their own business. This is uncommon for small villages, where most would be itching to get in everyone’s affairs, and only further emphasizes the economic faults of the borderlands. It unsettles him.

He didn’t come here on a whim. The thought of this journey had sat in his mind ever since he found out the origins of his birth, and the deception under which he was raised. Perhaps this is why when he slipped out of the palace through the servant’s entrance and into the forest late at night, he did not feel threatened by the burning gaze he felt on his back.

His grandmother owed him. This, she seemed to know, and so she let him go without protest. 

Still, the villagers final comment piques Malleus’ attention. “Get me killed, hm? And what could be there to kill me if it’s just a rotten, desolate place?” 

“Dire beasts’ nests are in there. Few of the guys have seen ‘em—big, hungry things lumbering past the stained-glass windows and down the corridors. Lots’ve people who try goin’ there end up goin’ missing instead because they underestimate how vicious a defensive mother can get.” The fisherman picks up his cigar again and chews on the end. “Anyone who’s lived here long enough knows.” 

Malleus’ nails tap against the pint before pushing it aside and setting a coin pouch on the table. The fisherman raises an eyebrow, his beady dark gaze darting from Malleus to the pouch in interest. There’s enough to pay for Malleus’ drink, the fisherman’s drink, and probably tide the man over for the wintertime as well. A saccharine smile pulls on Malleus’ lips—the part of him that isn’t shadowed by the hood he wears over his head. “Take me there yourself, and I’ll give you more.” 

The fisherman chews on his cigar, staring at Malleus as he does. A thoughtful look crosses his face before it ends in him shaking his head. “Fuckin’ rich ‘uns…” 

His grumbling doesn’t stop him from grabbing the pouch and opening it up. He drops a few madol on the table before shoving the rest of the pouch in his pocket and tossing his cigar aside. A foul, hacking sound comes from his lips before he spits on the floor—which Malleus tries politely not to make a face over—and grabs his raincoat. “Come off it, then. I’ll take it the ocean way. It’s a lot faster and safer than tryin’ ta move through the woods. Bad season for that.” 

“Bad season?” Malleus asks as he rises to his feet. The fisherman shuffles past the other patrons in the crowded space before shouldering the door open to step back in the bleak outdoors. He mutters under his breath as he digs around his pockets before pulling out a small container and popping something into his mouth. The pungent smell of chewing tobacco notifies Malleus quickly of what it is. 

“S’breeding season. Everything in those woods is all riled up and starving in their energy. You’d make a fine morsel for somethin’.” The fisherman glances back at him and grimaces. “Tall n’ scrawny.” 

Well, Malleus tries not to take too much offence to that as he follows the fisherman down the path towards the docks. In his transformed appearance, his physique did look different than usual—leaner, less ‘victim of countless years of training.’ 

“Tragic,” is all he sighs instead before adjusting his hood once more. 

_______________

There’s something humbling about sitting on a cramped boat next to a net full of dead fish that you don’t really realize until you experience it. For Malleus, who sits with his knees to his chest and his body leaning as far away from the net as possible, it’s an experience he doesn’t want to go through again. The fisherman seems utterly unbothered as he stands at the end of the boat, looking out at the murky waters beyond while still chewing on the same tobacco lump. The vessel putters slowly with its magic-powered engine into the night. 

“Gotta go at this pace in case we run into rocks below.” The fisherman shouts over his shoulder as he looks down to the waters again. “Or anythin’ else for that matter.” 

“Anything—” Malleus recoils as a slimy fish corpse brushes against his hand. His expression twists and he swats it away. “Eugh. Anything else?” 

“Merfolk, sea creatures, indiscernible entities. Y’know—no man’s land specialties.” The fisherman’s foot kicks against the engine as the boat is guided to swerve around a rock in question. “Merfolk especially have been comin’ up and around these parts. Which is strange, considerin’ they usually mind themselves down in the Coral Sea.” 

“Perhaps they are vacationing.” Malleus prompts. He knows this is a stupid idea as soon as the words leave his lips, and the fisherman’s bark of a laugh reassures him of such. No one is vacationing to these no man lands. 

The two of them fall back into silence as Malleus looks out to the sea. The lamp on their boat hardly cuts through the darkness that shrouds around them, churning and twisting like the waters they drift upon. He can see why stories of sailors going mad in the night are so prevalent in these parts. The world around them, which seems to hold no beginning or end in this moment, is a prime canvas for delusions. 

“Try not to look out too long. Focus on the lamp instead.” The fisherman’s voice draws him once more as the boat sails along a cliffside now. Black stones loom over them in a daunting stance. It’s the same stone that was used to create Black Scale Palace—carved from the body of Briar Nation itself, back when the body still had a lot to give and belonged to his family. He can see faintly where fae-made chips reside and where nature itself has taken course. “It’s a fool's role to try and see out there. You’ll start seein’ shit that isn’t.”  

Malleus sinks back down in the boat with a sigh. The fisherman is weathered enough to have done this for a long time now if his grey hair and sun-wrinkled skin had anything to say. If he can survive to this age, then it’s for a good reason. 

“How much longer?” He asks. The fisherman scratches his chin before stepping off the bow and sitting against the side of the boat. Fish corpses, a fisherman, and the void-like world around him—Malleus is beginning to doubt the journey’s worth. 

“Five minutes, give’r take. Best just get comfortable.” 

Comfort is impossible with the pungent scent around them, but Malleus pulls his cloak tighter regardless and looks back to the lamp. A few insects bump against the glass in a foolish bid to reach the light, and he busies himself by counting how many burn up in their efforts. 

_______________

When they finally arrive, he pays the fisherman enough madol to wait for him at the bottom of the cliffs before beginning the steep ascent up the hills. His mother had an apparent idea that building a palace near the edge of the nation’s lands was a brilliant one. Perhaps in the forgiving summer months the view of the ocean was tranquil and pleasing. Right now, it’s the most loathsome thing in his existence. 

Making it to the top of the cliff offers no reprieve, either. He’s greeted abruptly with an excess of thorns twisting and writhing their way across the earth. Brambles, starving for something, shudder and groan as he inches past them. The only reason they refuse to sink into his supple flesh is perhaps because they can smell the magic of their creator imbued within him. His mother apparently did have brilliant ideas—one of them being to give him a healthy dose of magic before her departure. 

“Gods,” he hisses as he burns away another bramble. The sudden light seems to make the patch shudder and retract with an angry sound. The movement enables Malleus to notice a different aspect of the palace that he neglected—the scent of diurnal fae magic. He can feel it clashing with his mothers in a power-struggle for control, the two essences entwining and biting like starving dogs. The diurnal fae likely wished to keep humans away—Malleus wagers his mother wished for the opposite. 

His lip curls in disgust as he makes his way down the stone path leading to the decrepit white structure beyond. The closer he gets, the more he begins to see the truth in the fisherman’s warnings. Stained glass windows are either blown out or breaking along the palace’s walls. The stones themselves are chipping and beginning to crumble, crushed under the weight of the thorns that still twist and move subtly. The musky scent of animals also begins to appear alongside the earlier magic. This is what draws him to a stop as he reaches the front door. 

It may have been heavily fortified once. Now, it looks as though one door was violently kicked in, lying broken on its hinges and giving just enough room for Malleus to wiggle inside. He nips his finger on a thorn, causing a curse to slip past his lips as he presses his wound to his tongue before his feet finally meet stone again. 

There’s no chuffing of dire beasts from within like the fisherman warned. There’s also no indication of any sort of haunting present, which Malleus has also heard rumours of. 

No. Upon entering Wild Rose Palace for the first time in his life, Malleus is greeted with silence—anticlimactic, and brutally honest. 

“... hm.” He shoves his hood off his head and waves a hand to dispel the transformation glamour he’s been wearing. Once that’s in order, he begins to move down the hall to his right, his eyes narrowing with intent swimming in their green depths. If the layout of this palace is the same as Black Scale, then the throne room is likely down this hall, past a few more turns, and then through another set of double doors—nestled right in the heart of the building. 

As he moves, he does begin to track similarities to his grandmother's home. It didn’t feel like he had stepped into another world—rather, that it had stepped into him. He knows he’s here and yet feels like he forgot he left to arrive. It’s unnerving. His fingers trace along the wall to his left as he passes by suits of armour, portraits either torn up or faded from age, and tapestries that display tales with which he isn’t familiar. His grandmother had tried hard to shield him from a lot of things. This apparently includes censoring literature that may have once existed. 

The brambles continue to part for him as he makes turn, after turn, after turn in the labyrinthian design that was formed in his mother’s mind. His breath hitches a few times in panic when he hears a sound from behind him in the hall, causing his pace to pick up, only to level out again when the sounds fade. It feels as though he’s been walking for eons when another set of doors finally appear. 

Carved of black oak and adorned with two dragons curled on their frame, he reckons that they can only lead to one place as his hands grasps the cold, metal knobs. With a jerking motion, he pulls them open to a cacophony of deafening shrieks, and steps inside. 

_______________

Glass. 

The sight of his body takes him aback for a second as his expression becomes almost comical. The wall behind the throne that sits at the end of the large room is glass, polished and untarnished despite nearly 400 years of neglect. His hands fall from the knobs as he slowly makes his way inside. There are stained glass windows lining the one wall while the other is white stone, which is decorated with brambles crawling to the rafters above. Malleus steps over them deftly, frowning as he does before coming to a stop in the middle of the room. Once he reaches this point, he pauses, before closing his eyes and trying to think. 

He wants to see if he can feel her. Even a slight lingering wisp of her presence would be enough to please him. He wants to know if he can experience what it’s like: a mother’s touch, a mother’s voice. His grandmother had tried hard to shield him from a lot of things, with maternal affection also being one—not that he can blame her. He used to, but experiencing loss first-hand had taught him that not everyone heals the same way. A few remain more fractured than others even in the years after. 

“Mother?” He tries the term on his tongue, tastes it, rolls it over to see what that’s like as well. It’s foreign. His mouth struggles to form it and his voice warbles as his eyes open and he grimaces. Sour and strange—that’s how it tastes. His feet drag him closer to the throne before he kneels upon it to peer at the glass wall. 

It looks like it was covered by fabric once. Scraps of violet remain pooled on the floor, which he passes a sparing glance at before looking up again. He feels like a child as he peers over the thrones edge to his curious reflection. He used to do this with his grandmother when he was little—play on her throne, try to get her attention for even a moment. He’s always been somewhat of a needy child. 

“Mother?” He prompts again. Maybe saying it twice will do something. Instead, the only thing he receives is his own voice echoing back as he looks over his shoulder to the darkened hallways beyond. 

Silence—anticlimactic, and brutally honest. 

His nails dig into the metal of the throne as he slumps down, temporarily dejected. It’s a stupid thing to get dejected over, he reasons to himself. It isn’t like he expected to hear what her voice sounded like anyway. All he has are a few nagging memories of it from his time within his egg. His head turns to the side to look in the glass again. His expression is less curious and more frustrated now as he stares into his own green eyes. 

And then, a flash. 

It’s so subtle that he might have missed it had he not been looking in the glass at the right moment. It makes him sit up straighter as his breath stutters to a pause. There’s nothing for another few seconds before another flash, and another. A few lost green fireflies seem to have found their way into the palace and are now floating by his head in interest. Malleus’ lips crack into a faint smile as his hand goes up to brush against one, which lights up bright before floating just out of reach. 

He can see them in the mirror. The fireflies, the stained glass, the tapestries, the shadow—

Shadow. 

He thinks for a moment—just one, foolish moment—that he can see standing behind him in that glass, something tall, with horns like his own and a flash of green that isn’t a firefly. Malleus twists around rapidly in the throne, his body tense and ready for conflict, only to look upon a room devoid of anything but him and the insects. The silence of all but his own breath is becoming oppressive, weighted, like he’s starting to no longer be welcomed in this place. He hears something low rumble from somewhere else within the palace as he waves a hand to conceal his appearance. 

He rises from the throne, shaken but not put off as he steps down to the stone floor once more. A thought crosses his mind that he can’t help but find amusement in—it’s utterly her. From the stories he’s heard through Lilia, and Baul, and even his grandmother on the odd night, it’s utterly her to give him a fright before vanishing into the ether once more. 

It thrills him. It vindicates him. 

“Thank you, mother.” There’s a dry bit of humour in his tone as he casts one last glance to the throne before turning away. 

Does he feel as though a part of himself is satisfied now? Does he feel whole? He isn’t sure. Perhaps the realization will come to him on the boat ride back to the bleak, miserable village he came from. Perhaps the realization will come to him in his bed, when he’s wrapped in sheets of black silk and staring at the stars beyond. Perhaps the realization will never come at all because it never existed to begin with. 

Anticlimactic, and brutally honest.

[multifandom--mess]

hannigram x villaneve crossover fics bc hell yes!

mlm/wlw solidarity if you know what i mean 🤭

《☆☆☆》

》 Summertime in Marseille - (12k)(Mature)

Murder wives across the pond? The London area manhunt for pay to play assassin Oksana Astankova continues tonight after the gruesome discovery of the bodies of two M16 agents and the unsettling disappearance of a third. The missing agent Eve Polastri’s checkered history with the femme fatale stirs up a sense of deja-vu to a case stateside involving the (still unsolved) disappearance of a certain disgraced psychiatrist turned psychopath and his companion Will Graham. Both pairs vanished without a trace, leaving behind only a couple of corpses in the hands of, debatetly inept, law enforcement. Longtime readers will remember the debacle on the rumors of the relationship between Lecter and Graham. Fresh faces should expect much of the same insight when it comes to Astankova and Polastri. -Freddie Lounds [Tattlecrime.com] Or: Villanelle takes Eve to visit an old friend.

》 Wintertime in the Atlantic - (10k)(Mature)

Dear Hannibal and Will, [Eve warned me I really shouldn’t write Hannibal and Will but I don’t think you two are stupid enough to let other people read your mail and the consequences are on you if you are.] A recent client has gifted me four first class tickets for a cruise to Australia on the 11th of December! The ship leaves from Lisbon which is a wonderful coincidence since Eve tells me that’s where you’re currently living. We never got the opportunity to repay you two for helping us during our time of need back in Marseille. My fiancé and I would be delighted if you would accompany us. The tickets are attached! -xoxo Villanelle Or: Eve and Villanelle meet up with the Lecter-Graham’s once again.

》 Rhapsody in Brashness - (4k)(Mature)

“We understand,” says Hannibal. The vibrations of his voice rumble against her the way that thunder does through storm clouds. “You are unique, as I am. And she insinuated herself into you, as Will insinuated himself into me. The blind, pearly rootlets of human connection have burrowed themselves too deeply into the fertile soil of your soul to be killed, now, no matter how many times you hack away at the verdant growth which springs anew into the air, again and again. The intricate underground web of them merely spreads implacably further and deeper and will continue to do so until they smother you, or until you allow the leaves to fully unfurl into the light.” “But she stabbed me,” Villanelle exclaims petulantly.

》 A Cannibal, A Dog Lover, and an Assassin Walk Into A Bar - (1.7k)(G)

Hannibal and Will wanted a quick getaway to Rome, but end up with a little more adventure than they anticipated.

》 Murder Pals in Alaska - (1.5k)(Mature)

Eve and Villanelle make their home in Alaska and befriend Will and Hannibal.

》 Cannibal vs. Assassin: The Showdown - (5k)(Mature)

“Obviously, they do kill people based on those dance moves alone,” Hannibal tittered, but quietly enough as to not attract attention. Will stifled a laugh. “That is not a reason to ruin their night though,” Hannibal decided, following Will through the crowd.

》 Taste and Temptation - (18k)(G)

Eve and Villanelle have gone off on their own, traveling and getting to know each other better. Hannibal and Will have too. Both couples happen to have dark pasts and trouble with the law, but that hasn't really put a damper on their vacations. The four of them happen to meet at an opera in Florence but when they keep running into each other, they have to wonder if their meetings are coincidence or something that could put their travels in danger. Villaneve meets Hannigram on the run.

(NOTE: unfinished but still worth the read!)

》 The Professionals Series - (12k)(T)

A Hannibal/Killing Eve crossover AU where Hannibal and Villanelle are best buds. Theoretically set after "The Wrath of the Lamb" and "God, I'm Tired" for parts I and II and after "You're Mine" for part III.

[leonstamatis]

hey blaseball. how’s it hanging.

some of you expressed interest in a little wintertime exchange when i posted about it yesterday. well! let’s do it.

BUT FIRST: all important dates and such are below. go read those, put em in your calendar, et cetera.

then you can fill out this form if you’re interested.

guidelines and such:

open to fanfic, twines, visual art, playlists, and basically anything else you can think of.

limit of about 500-2.5k words for fic, or one to two art pieces depending on complexity. keep it breezy. (a little over is fine, but don’t go writing a whole novel. likewise, please try to at least hit the minimum.)

whatever you decide to do, please keep it safe for work.

deadline to submit your request form is december 8. (aka, don’t overthink it too much.) assignments will be out hopefully within a week, depending on how many people sign up. i’ll keep you posted.

reveals will be february 17. should be enough time, but you can always reach out if it isn’t.

track #winterblbswap for updates, probably.

lemme know if you have questions. this is meant to be a pretty lowkey thing for folks who miss the blaseball creative community and want to get back into it for a quick last hit, so i’m not structuring the rules as much as i have with previous exchanges. that being said, i’ll try to check in here and there to make sure everyone is on track and it’s all coming along.

i’ll probably set up an ao3 collection for this, but even if you’re not making fic, please hold off to publish until reveals. i’ll plan to email or dm everyone a copy of their gift the morning of reveals just to make sure it all gets delivered.

[marshmallowprotection]

What do you think the RFA members’ favorite seasons are?

Jaehee loves winter. She loves the idea of sitting in during the evening and watching a movie with someone she loves, and even better than that, she loves letting her footsteps carry her to different recreational winter activities with her partner. Get her some hot chocolate and ice skates, the two of you are about to have the time of your lives. She misses her parents around that time of year, too, but being with you makes her heart ache a little less. Bittersweet but it becomes sweet.

Zen is a sucker for spring. He gets to wear long sleeves if he wants to and he doesn't have worry about it being too hot to handle. It can be hell on his allergies, sure, but who wouldn't love fresh flowers and a staring role in the next big romantic movie? He's a romantic at heart, and that never stops after Valentine's Day. If anything, he gets worse about doting on you and comes up with all kinds of spring activities to do with you. The only downside if paparazzi!

Yoosung loves autumn. You might think he enjoys the spring but in all honesty, he gets tired around the spring because there are so many things to do and take care of at school. He's got the energy for it, but he doesn't have time to do anything else. He loves when school is just getting started, though. He feels so rejuvenated and ready to take on the world. The leaves crunching under his feet, the beanies he gets to wear, and people enjoying how it's cozy outside, not too hot, and not too cold.

Jumin strikes me as a guy who loves wintertime. I can see the appeal of springtime in his heart, but there's something about having those cozy, intimate nights with his partner that get me. He wants to share his time with you after a hard day of work, and what better way to be comfortable than in front of the fire with Elizabeth? You share a few drinks with a smile and talk about everything while snow muffles the rest of the world.

Saeyoung loves summertime. It's his birthday. It's the best time to go on a vacation. It's the best time to go swimming and fishing with your friends! It's the best time to do whatever he wants! Even though it's a scorcher outside, he has a water gun and a penguin robot that makes snow cones. There's something about getting to enjoy when there's a lot of sunshine outside. He can't deny it's his favorite time of year. He deserves to the sun and sky.

V doesn't like when it's hot. He loves to wear layers and hide his body. He hates it when he can't bundle up, he hates it so much, that's why he prefers spring OR autumn. I don't think he has a favorite, but I can see him jumping between the two. Those give him the best chance to take pictures, hike, and do outdoor activities. He won't get a cold and he won't melt into oblivion. He gets to enjoy things without thinking about his insecurities and there's something nice about sharing his enjoyment of the sunshine with you. In the end, he learns to love the springtime more.

Saeran loves spring. I think that was obvious. Summertime is way too hot for him and he can't handle the heat for too long, but he will go outside no matter what. It's just that during the springtime, he gets to watch the flowers bloom and there's cozy rainstorms that help him cozy up to you by a fire. It's not too hot, it's perfect. He wants to have tea in the garden as you share a meal together, that's never changed since he became a free man. He yearns for the springtime.

Vanderwood is hard to get a read on. I know he's not a fan of spring or summer, that much I can tell you. He just doesn't seem like the kind of guy who wants to talk a walk in the part or go on vacation to the beach. He seems like he enjoys the peace and quiet that comes with winter and autumn. I'd argue he likes the time in-between the two the most. Where the world seems to be lulled and it's too cold to do much but it's not hot enough to argue not doing something. He's a mystery like that, never quiet one way or the other.

Rika is an autumn girl. She loves the fall. Her birthday isn't something she likes to enjoy by any means, but she, like most people, enjoys the feeling of crisp weather that isn't too cold. She loves to remember all the times she spent at the park with Sally like that... playing in the tall bundles of leaves and laughing. Those are some of the best memories she has and she doesn't want to let go of them any time soon. A warm tea and a longing gaze out the window at the rest of the world. It's quiet, it's lonely, but it feels like home.

[spidrzfall]

I'm Not Her. Part 2 ( bad ending ) ⤑ Peter Parker.

WELCOME TO PART TWO the bad ending ! The end of the story for "I'm not her!" Enjoy you guys, I actually think that I might have cooked with this one, but I could be wrong anyways. Love you guys, xoxo - A.

☆° Peter Parker x Male Reader

  ☆°• ANGST !

°•▪︎ Fem readers DNI ♡♡

♧ warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing ! ♧

NOTES : Gwen isn’t dead in this universe, her and Peter only had a fallout !

♡ READ PART ONE : Click me!

♡ the good ending : Click me!

┏━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━┓

It had been a week since the fight with (M/N), Peter couldn’t wrap his head around the fact it even happened in the first place, a part of him feeling guilt, guilt for hurting someone he’s meant to care about deeply. How’d it get this bad, how did Peter let it get this bad he didn’t have time to ponder on who or what, he just knew he needed a distraction. His mind couldn’t linger on the guilt forever and by the looks of it (M/N) wasn’t going to talk to Peter any sooner. As Peter threw on his winter coat, his blue and white striped scarf, and his cyan colored beanie, walking down his apartment's stairs to the main lobby before being engulfed by New York City’s winter air, the coldness hitting his face as his cheeks coated red. 

(M/N) didn’t know what to think. He only sat with himself wondering how Peter could say those things to him, maybe it was a slip up like Peter had claimed and even if it was, it just wasn’t okay. It didn’t exclude the fact (M/N) felt like it wasn't worth anything to Peter. He felt useless and scared. Scared of what was to come in the future from their fight; Would it even help if they reconciled? Was it going to make a difference in their relationship going forward? (M/N) didn’t want to ponder on the future, he knew if he did it would only make him go crazy.

Peter walked through the snowy streets, somewhat blinded by the snowfall but didn’t pay any mind to it as he kept walking eventually wandering into a small grocery store nearby being reminded he needed some groceries anyways. Skimming through the isles his mind made up a list along the way as he would prop each thing he needed into the handheld grocery basket. His mind cleared as he tried to recall each thing he didn’t have at home keeping in mind his budget, afterall The Bugle only pays him a few bucks for his photos.

(M/N) knew he wanted to forgive Peter, he couldn’t stay mad at him forever. As much as Peter did hurt him he still loved the man. They had a prominent future ahead of them and afterall every couple has their fights - given not all fights are because one of you can’t get over your ex - but regardless he wanted to talk to his boyfriend. Feeling like he couldn’t smile if it wasn’t smiling with Peter, Feeling a chunk of his heart missing from his chest with how much he missed the brunette. That longing he felt to be back with him, to mend what was broken. (M/N) knew what to do, bake. He needed to bake those chocolate chip cookies he would make for Peter during the wintertime, which Peter claimed to absolutely love.

Peter propped the small carton of milk into his basket as he walked further into the store. His shoulder bumping into somebody as his eyes made their way to the person as a quick apology slipped his lips. His own brown eyes making contact with the same blue eyes he had once fell in love with, Gwen. Peter stared at her as he felt his chest hurt, that similar spike in it becoming noticeable, she was the first to speak “Peter, Hey. It’s been a while, It’s so funny running into you here.” Peter's mouth went dry, it had been so long hearing her voice not knowing how to reply as he only admired her until he snapped out of it replying back to her “Yes, oh my goodness. Hey, yeah it has been a minute. How are you doing?” Peter faced her as his imaginary list of groceries left his mind the minute he heard her laugh. “I’ve been doing okay, well better since when we broke up, and really learned to manage myself a lot more. How about you? How has life been treating you, I'm sure you’ve found someone by now. It's been like 4 years now hasn’t it?” Gwen spoke her voice silk in Peter’s ears.

“Somebody?...oh uhm…” Peter hesitated as his mind ran an autopilot for a bit “no. I don’t have anybody” Peter spoke, lies spilling from his lips leaving a sour taste in them. Technically speaking in a sense he and (M/N) were on a break or at least that's what Peter told himself to ease himself of the guilt. “Really? Here I thought somebody already had you as theirs” Gwen replied as she took in note of the fact Peter wasn’t in a relationship ignoring the hesitation when he said it. “Don’t worry I don’t have anybody yet, either” – “Really?” – “I don’t think I could find anyone as amazing as you.” 

That made Peter pause, his cheeks coating a slight pink color as he chuckled, “I could say the same…” Peter replied, his morals out the window as he said it. Gwen’s smile became more noticeable as her cheeks flushed “Snow’s falling down rough, you know, my house is a bit of a walk from here, If I recall you still live in the area right? If It would be fine with you, maybe we could walk, maybe talk a while whilst the snow clears?” Gwen spoke sheepishly as she shifted her weight from one leg to another. “I think I’d love that a lot.” Peter replied quickly as he gave her a reassuring smile.

(M/N) had finally finished, his house warm and smelling of chocolate and vanilla as the cool breeze occasionally made its way into his decorated apartment. Taking the batch of cookies out of the oven as he smiled widely, they were perfect, setting them down on the marble counter of his kitchen before walking to the stove to check on the hot chocolate, a warm smile on his face. Grabbing a metal thermo and putting the warm hot chocolate into it, his heart warming up in the process, his mind running with the possibilities of how the interaction would go. Grabbing the batch of cookies, biting into one as he put the rest of them into a small purple cloth before gently placing them into a goodie bag. Taking his apron off and folding it before rushing to his bedroom to get changed. 

Being all bundled up and cozy as he took the elevator down to the main lobby, a smile on his face as he looked at his hands, the thermo and the bag of cookies in them as he walked with a spark, with a meaning, with love and excitement. Making his way to Peter’s apartment, remembering to bring the copy of the keys Peter got him. Seeing the brown colored building in view as he sped-walked entering the inside of the building’s main lobby, shaking off the snow as he walked up the stairs to the 5th floor. Exhausted as he walked up each stair until reaching the top as he rubbed off the exhaustion as he went to the familiar door; E8. 

(M/N) took a deep breath. He just needed to go in, give Peter the cookies and that was it. As he slowly inputs the key into the lock and slowly pushes the door open.

There was momentarily silence in the apartment as (M/N)’s eyes landed onto Peter's living room couch, his mouth slightly agape, his eyes stinging with threats of tears surrounding him. His hands became weak as he dropped the thermo and bag of cookies, causing Peter to snap and Gwen’s head as well. It wasn’t a sight to see with Gwen on Peter’s lap as they kissed, Peter paused for a moment, as his eyes landed on (M/N)...his (M/N).

“(M/N)...”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had a guest over. I think I should go, I made you cookies and some hot chocolate, maybe you should share it with your girlfriend”

“(M/N) wait–”

It was too late, (M/N) only picked up the thermo and the bag as he put them down on Peter’s counter before hurrying out the apartment. Peter slipped an apology to Gwen as he made his way out the apartment making a beeline to (M/N) as he yelled out to him “(M/N)! Wait please! Let me explain, I know it looked bad but it was a spur of the mome-” – “Oh just like the spur of the moment at the restaurant! I can’t believe I wanted to forgive you!” – “(M/N) please, I didn’t think It would happen!” Peter pleaded as he walked down the stairs following the other. “Didn't know! Peter she’s your ex, you don’t bring your ex home unless you have intentions to sleep with them…Did you even tell her about us? About…me” (M/N)’s voice cracked as he stared at the once doe eyes he once loved.

Peter stood there with guilt as he lowered his head, knowing better than to lie to him. As he stood there on the top of the stairs, his boyfriend only a few steps below him who was standing there looking at him through tearful eyes. How he hated seeing him cry, hated it even more when he knew he was the reason he was crying. “I made you those stupid cookies you loved, Jerk. Fuck! I put my whole love into them Peter! I came here hoping we could work it out because I-” his voice cracked as he took a deep breath “I love- Loved. I loved you.” – “loved…?” 

Past tense. Somehow that wounded Peter even more as his own eyes teared up as he let them slowly run off his cheeks. Staring at his ex-boyfriend through tearful eyes, seeing him leave, Peter stood there momentarily before going back upstairs as he walked in, seeing Gwen with the bag of cookies - which were partially broken - on her lap as he sat next to her, his heart empty. “Everything okay?” Gwen asked as she handed him a half broken cookie as she put one in her mouth. “Yeah…everything is fine” Peter whispered as he took the cookie and took a bite out of them. “These are literally delicious, theyre so sweet” Gwen commented 

But how could it taste sweet? They were sour…after all they were only sweet when Peter ate them around (M/N), but like broken cookies come broken hearts.

┗━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━┛

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Magnolia - Chapter Five

Rating: Explicit Media: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing(s): Geto Suguru x Original Female Character, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru x Original Female Character Additional tags: Vampire AU, Dark Themes, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Depression, Loneliness, Eventual Smut, Polyamory, Slow Burn

A/N: More tags will be added as chapters are updated. Please be mindful of the tags and warnings at the beginning of each chapter, as they will tell you what you need to know about the content within.

Minors, DNI.

Summary:

When she hears him coming, she looks up at him. “Oh,” she says softly. “Were you looking for me?”

“Kind of but not really,” he answers, settling himself cross-legged beside her. “You okay?”

“I guess,” she murmurs with a shrug, looking down at her lap. Her wrists are still bandaged, the soft white fabric covering the cuts that are still healing. “I don’t know.”

Suguru knows that trying to force her to talk won’t do him any good, and so he aims to let her know that he is a safe space if she wants to talk. “I’ve been told I’m a good listener,” he grins at her. “And whatever secrets you have are safe with me.”

“You won’t tell Satoru?” She peers over at him.

“Why would I?” He looks away from her. “He barely talks to me these days anyway.”

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Read on AO3

Chapter Warnings: Suggestive (implied/referenced phone sex), Gojo Satoru is his own warning

Chapter Five: Would I Be Whole?

I could suffice for Him, I knew-- He-- could suffice for Me Yet Hesitating Fractions - Both Surveyed Infinity “Would I be Whole” He sudden broached My syllable rebelled-- ‘Twas face to face with Nature - forced ‘Twas face to face with God -Emily Dickinson, I could suffice for him, I knew (excerpt)

--

“When are you coming back?” 

It’s a little absurd, he knows, to ask the question right now. At Satoru’s coaxing he’s made a mess of himself, his chest and abdomen covered in a thin sheen of sweat and sticky little rivulets of his own cum. Thousands of miles away, Satoru lounges in a similar disheveled state, modern technology connecting them through a seven-inch screen.

“Dunno,” Satoru replies noncommittally with a shrug. “Is this you asking me to?”

“This is me telling you that I miss you, and that it would be nice to see you in person instead of through a screen,” he sighs. “I thought that would mean something, but I guess it doesn’t.”

“But modern technology is amazing though, right?” Satoru grins at him. “Even though we’re on opposite sides of the world, it feels like we’re in the same room.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Suguru murmurs, reaching for his discarded t-shirt. He uses it to wipe the mess off of his chest and belly. “It feels like I’m video chatting with you because we’re thousands of miles apart. Which is exactly what we’re doing. It feels like you’re not here, so I’m jerking myself off and trying to pretend it feels like your hand. Which is exactly what I’m doing.”

“Ok, ok, don’t whine,” Satoru complains, sounding more like he’s the one whining. “What’s gotten into you? You’ve never made a fuss about me being gone before.”

“You’ve never been gone this long before,” Suguru points out. He pauses. “And you never used to stay there that long.” 

“Hmm… I see your point,” Satoru concedes. “But it’s wintertime already where you are, and you know I hate how cold it gets up there.” Even through the small screen, Suguru can see that he’s pouting. “Can I at least wait until summer?”

Where you are, Satoru has said, as though the house isn’t his home, too. 

This conversation is only a variation of a conversation they’ve had dozens of times before. Suguru is suddenly weary of it and all the feelings that come with it, and he doesn’t feel like arguing with Satoru anymore. “Do what you want,” he mutters finally, looking away from the screen.

“C’mon… don’t be like that.” 

Suguru ignores him. 

“Suguruuuuuu.” 

“What.”

“How’s your pet?” Sensing he’s already on thin ice, Satoru clears his throat and amends his question. “Err… I mean, how’s your human?”

“Why are you asking? It’s not like you care.”

“But I do,” Satoru protests. “Just because I’m not fond of humans in general, it doesn’t mean I don’t care about this one. She was interesting enough to catch your eye… That must mean she’s special.”

He can hear what’s not being said just as clearly as what is: Even with your well-known soft spot for humans, you’ve only ever taken in two others. What makes this one different?

“Special?” He repeats thoughtfully. “Maybe.” He pauses. “To be honest, I do feel a connection with her that I haven’t felt with anybody in a long time. It’s more than just wanting to protect her or take care of her. I wonder if it’s because she and I are alike in a lot of ways.”

“Oh?” Satoru’s eyes aren’t on the phone; he’s moved into the bathroom of his apartment and is cleaning himself off. Suguru is treated to the sight of the light fixture on the ceiling of said bathroom. “How so?”

“Go take a shower,” he answers, sidestepping the question. “I’ll call you back later.”

“Hai, hai.”

He disconnects the call, tossing his phone onto the nightstand and wandering into his bathroom to pursue his own shower. 

--

He finds her exactly where he’s expecting to find her: under the magnolia tree in the backyard. She’d asked him about the magnolias in the vase the night he’d brought her to the house, and she’d seemed pleased when he’d taken her out back so she could see for herself where the blossoms are born. She has since claimed that spot for her own, often bundling up in one of his hoodies to keep the winter chill at bay, spending hours beneath the branches reading or journaling.

She’s currently sitting cross-legged on a blanket with her back against the tree’s massive trunk, a tray of tea and snacks next to her and one of his books lying beside it. She isn’t reading. She’s simply staring off at something in the distance that he can’t see.

When she hears him coming, she looks up at him. “Oh,” she says softly. “Were you looking for me?”

“Kind of but not really,” he answers, settling himself cross-legged beside her. “You okay?”

“I guess,” she murmurs with a shrug, looking down at her lap. Her wrists are still bandaged, the soft white fabric covering the cuts that are still healing. “I don’t know.”

Suguru knows that trying to force her to talk won’t do him any good, and so he aims to let her know that he is a safe space if she wants to talk. “I’ve been told I’m a good listener,” he grins at her. “And whatever secrets you have are safe with me.”

“You won’t tell Satoru?” She peers over at him. 

“Why would I?” He looks away from her. “He barely talks to me these days anyway.”

She feels bad for having brought it up. She knows that there is some rift between Suguru and the husband who lives on the other side of the world. She doesn’t know what the source of the rift is, but she can see how it deeply affects this man who has taken her in. “I’m sor---”

“Remember what I said? There’s no need to apologize for things that aren’t your fault.”

Instinctively, she opens her mouth to apologize again. She bites it back quickly and says instead, “Okay.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes. 

“I don’t really know what to do,” she confesses quietly, breaking the silence. “I… I guess I spent so much time planning for when I was dead that I… I never considered what my life would look like if I didn’t die the way I’d planned to.” She reaches out, plucking a few blades of grass and letting them flutter back to the ground. “I’d quit my job. The place I’d been living in for the past five years was a fully-furnished, month-to-month rental. I didn’t own much. I’ve still got a car,” she says, as if suddenly remembering its existence. “That is, if it hasn’t been stolen from where I left it.”

“What about the people in your life?” He asks. “Wouldn’t someone be looking for you by now?” 

“I don’t really have close friends anymore,” she admits. “It’s not that there weren’t people in my life. I just… Well, I guess I let myself lose touch with the ones I’d been close to in the past, and I kept any new people I’d meet at arms’ length. It felt better that way, you know? You can’t disappoint people if they don’t have expectations for you.”

He senses them again, those feelings that had been radiating off of her when he’d found her that first day: loneliness, sadness, regret. “What about your family?”

She visibly flinches at the word family. “I’ve been estranged from my family for years now,” she tells him. “They don’t even know where I live. No one’s cared to track me down, so I’m assuming they’re fine with the distance.”

Suguru wants to inquire further about it, but he senses that to do so would be a little like sticking a hot poker into an open wound. After all, they are two of a kind, and though it’s been decades since he became estranged from the people he once called family, the wounds are still there. 

“Well,” he says, “you can stay here as long as you like, you know.”

“Without a job?” She shakes her head. “No way would I feel comfortable mooching off of you without contributing something.”

“You aren’t mooching,” Suguru shrugs. “If you want a job, get one. If you don’t, don’t.”

It puzzles her, his laid-back attitude about it. “Yeah, but… groceries cost money. So do water and electricity. Once upon a time, I owned a home. I know those things aren’t free. Plus, these clothes---” She motions to what she’s wearing - another one of his hoodies and a pair of his sweatpants. “I should have my own clothes so I can stop stealing yours.”

“I like you in my clothes,” he teases her. “It’s cute, how you’re drowning in them.”

She isn’t sure why it makes her face go hot, but she likes the fluttery feeling his words evoke in the pit of her stomach. “Don’t tell me that,” she mumbles. “You might never get these back.” 

“You say that like it’s a problem.” Suguru shrugs again, resting his back against the trunk of the magnolia tree and closing his eyes. “Lia, I’ve been alive for a long time. I wasn’t born into wealth the way Satoru was, but I’ve been exceptionally smart with what I’ve made. It’s one of the benefits of having a long life - you’ve got the time to see returns on all kinds of investments.”

He cracks an eye open to look at her. “I don’t need money. If you stay here, neither will you. If working gives you a sense of fulfillment, I won’t stop you… but I think it would be nice - at least for a while - if you could enjoy your life without needing to.” 

She doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Besides,” he goes on, remembering Satoru’s words to him, “Your company is worth more to me than any amount of money you could ever give me.”

There it is again: the fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach. Butterflies, she remembers. 

When was the last time someone gave me butterflies? 

Chapter Navigation 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Chapter Six: Coming Soon

[deepperplexity]

Prompt: 13. Shimmering Icicles [C3]

Pairing: Turpin x fem!Reader

POV: Second, Reader & Third, Turpin

Setting: Turpin’s house

Continuation of: Prompt 4. Sharing, Prompt 6. Out Of Care

A/N:As promised! Here's today's fic - hope you'll love it 🤭 We're starting to get mighty warm in this one 👀 I mean, it is wintertime over here so I certainly don't mind 🤭🙈 I'm also so beyond ready to get a little break tbh - it's been nonstop of everything for the past few weeks (the last three days being super hectic with the writing as you know) and I'd love to curl up with a good book or longer fic and just take a moment to exist but I'm also super happy about all the writing I've gotten done so far this month 😂 I hope you're all having a wonderful time and that December keeps on giving all the good stuff 🥰❤

Tags/TW’s: Mutual Secret Pining, Wishing For Forgiveness, Cuddling Close In Sleep, Masturbation, Bathtub Pleasure, Unwilling/Unplanned Voyeurism, Virgin Reader, Sexual Desperation, Struggling With Emotions & New Sensations, Wishing For More, Yielding For Another's Benefit

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name

Word Count: 2.9k+

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

⩤• You •⩥

Your body hummed with warmth, a calmness seemed sturdily wrapped around you as you awoke to the steadily growing light of dawn sifting through your closed eyelids. It was late morning and you couldn’t quite make yourself fully wake up. The dream of Richard returning to you in the middle of the night made you force yourself to remain on the borderline to wakefulness — the encompassing warmth did little to help sleep leave.

A flexing hand at your hip jolted your senses. You drew a quiet gasp as your eyes popped open in a rush. A pale chest dusted with grey hair filled your vision, the steady thumping of a heart beneath your ear rousing you further. You were curled up against Richard, his arm under your head and wrapped around your back. It wasn’t a dream .

You tried to remain utterly still, endeavouring to relax your muscles to fain sleep. Never had you laid so close. Never had he held you tightly. Never had you heard his heartbeat before or felt his steady breaths under your palm as his chest rose and sank. He was warm, soft yet sturdy — but that you already knew. How I missed you, darling … It was really a strange thing, though. Given everything, how had you fallen in love with the stoic man and felt as if he was missing from you when he wasn’t around? When did that really happen?

Richard hummed and tensed his arm for a second before his breaths turned deep and steady once more. You gently tilted your head back. His face was a wondrous thing to look at. Especially in that moment; his hard lines softened by sleep, the tension in his jaw gone for the time being, and his often scrunched eyebrows softly curved in relaxation. Your fingers tingled to reach up and drag down the curve of his hooked nose, to stroke those cheeks with the slight tint of rosy warmth and grey stubble.

You refrained. Instead, you cuddled closer, closing your eyes and pretending to be asleep. You wanted to remain there for as long as possible, a lacking in your heart you hadn’t known about suddenly felt filled with his closeness. Despite everything, he had come back and whatever discussion was to be had could wait. Your eternity rested in his hands, his words, but surely forever could spare another minute…

⩤• Turpin •⩥

He dared not move. The sun shone through the curtains, the day having since long begun. Yet he lay absolutely still, like a dead man in a casket. He kept his breaths deep and slow, every muscle relaxed and softened. Your warmth invaded his skin, your scent filled his nose, your soft breaths filled his ears with a sweet whooshing sound so low he could barely hear it but the warmth it fanned over his bare chest in intervals could not be missed.

Perhaps I perished in sleep and have reached— no, I must be very much alive, with my sweet wife cuddled close. The muddled and unfamiliar sensations within him were difficult to pinpoint — there were so many of them and all quite elusive to correctly term in their newness. His rigid cock was an easier matter to understand, you felt like perfection against him — despite the nightdress keeping your soft skin from his. This is not a time for my desperate need. I may very well be on the brink of never gaining such a gift from her, I cannot jeopardize this moment or the future beyond it.

He drew a deeper breath, gently moving his muscles to give you the chance to move away before ever knowing he was awake and aware of how the two of you lay so maddeningly close. But you didn’t move, nothing about your state changed and a mixture of relief and sorrow flooded him. He wished you awoke and remained cuddled against him willingly, what one did in sleep one had little control over and if you did not wake and made the active choice to remain close to him the moment meant that much less.

He sneaked his arm free before abandoning the warmth to shrug on his robe. When he glanced at you over his shoulder, your arm lay stretched over the mattress where he had been a moment ago but other than that nothing had changed. Asleep… Perhaps that is the only time I deserve your closeness, when you offer it unknowingly. The thought stabbed at his usually cold heart, his aching cock demanding to enter your warmth and find its sweet release, his skin itched to be connected with yours, and above all he wished for you to look him in the eye while offering your forgiveness.

None of it was granted, of course. He merely left the bedroom with a final glance at your sleeping form before heading to the bathroom. His movements were hurried, the constant pressure to go back and wake you, kiss you, press you down into the mattress with his own body while offering you all the pleasure he could was agonizingly unbearable.

He filled the tub with steaming water and shrugged out of his robe and underpants before sinking into the water with a deep groan. Leaning his head back and closing his eyes he tried to resist the urges coursing through his veins with the image of you in the bed as a constant stoker to the fire within him. It all mixed with his anger, his hurt, his wish for forgiveness, and the uncontrollable warmth you seemed to thaw his entire heart with.

His cock jerked as a memory flashed of you smiling widely at him, eyes all twinkly and warm when looking upon him. “Fucking hell and damnation,” he huffed out in a near snarl. “She’ll be the death of me, I swear it.” His hand found his cock and grabbed it harshly, squeezing the throbbing length with almost too much force as the need to come to the thoughts of you looking at him with warmth turned overwhelming.

He stroked himself, the water rippled at the motion as he spread his legs wider to relieve the pressure on his balls. “ Fuck ,” he hissed as he upped the pace, thinking of your hands on him, your lips against his skin, forgiveness and words of want tumbling out of your alluring mouth as he stroked himself harder. “Y/n— oh, fuck — ” he groaned while his balls drew up, his spine stiffening at the pending release he so desperately needed if he were to have the slightest chance at keeping a somewhat clear head later.

His hips bucked against his hand, and nearly painful pleasure built higher and higher as he gripped his cock harder — needing the pain to keep him from roaring out. “Y/n, my — haaa — sweet wife, oh fuck — ” He bit down on his lip, hissing a breath out between his teeth as he tensed all over. “Yes, yes, oh fuck -, Y/n—” His sentence got cut, his entire body turned stiff, and his eyes flew open at the sound of a gasp.

You stood in the doorway, your eyes wide, your hand over your agape mouth, the other still grasped the doorknob with with-knuckled force. “You-, you called my name,” you whispered while your cheeks turned scarlet, your entire throat rosy in a manner that only had his pleasure rising higher while your eyes seemed to look all over him in the clear bath, his hands still gripping his aching cock on the cusps of release.

It all happened in mere seconds, his lust-addled brain too caught in pleasure to fully register what was happening. “Oh my god!” you shrieked and his eyes found yours bound to his hand grasping his bulging length, he was still holding it tightly and the pressure along with your agonizingly alluring look of embarrassment and innocence tipped him over the edge before he could stop himself.

Red hot pleasure erupted within him as his cock pulsed, the water closest to it turning muddled with his cum while he gasped and groaned at the relief, his hips automatically jerking at the sensation while he tried to stop himself from completely unravelling while your intent gaze fanned the flames of his pleasure with your look of horror, intrigue, shame, and longing, all mixed into one delicious cocktail of purity to be ravaged. He couldn’t help it, you were the one woman he wished to be his and only his for all time — past, present, and future.

But this, the situation you were now in, had never been on his list of wants for your introduction to his naked anatomy. He always wished to go slow with you, make you feel safe in his proximity and closeness — make you curious, not frightened. Fucking hell , he thought while the five seconds after his climax passed in a breath-snagging stillness. Then you turned and slammed the door shut behind you with a bang so hard it rattled the walls. Dread seeped into his bones while his entire body deflated in the warm water. He feared all was lost now, seeing your reaction to him calling your name in the midst of manhandling his own cock. His body turned heavy and the sweetness of ejaculating to the thoughts of you did nothing to ease the stiffness in his shoulders.

⩤• You •⩥

You panted, your chest seemed nearly to explode as you tried to stop the raging of your pounding heart. You leaned against the door, a door you shouldn’t have entered despite hearing your name called. I thought he heard my steps, oh god, oh god, I thought— You hid your face behind your hands, your entire body felt on edge and there was a burning warmth forcing your entire body to tense as you couldn’t rid yourself of the magnificent view you had just witnessed. A primal urge. A deep-seated need. An indisputable sensation of something frighteningly new yet wholly wanted by your body.

Your skin was far too hot, your legs too shaky. The sound of Richard leaving the tub and water dripping on the tiles forced you to jolt away from the door. You couldn’t stop the feelings of him holding you close in the morning from mixing with whatever maddening sensation seeing him in such a state while nearly moaning your name made you feel now. It was too much, yet your body felt deprived of something at the same time.

Your back hit the hallway wall, your breaths in hot pants while the thin nightdress felt suffocatingly warm in the chilly house. Your eyes were glued to the door before you, your mind running rampant with the thought of your husband naked on the other side — and the length of him, the force of his hand, the look of pleasurable pain contorting his features just before his eyes had snapped to your face. The way his hips had jerked and he’d groaned, the depth of the sound wrecked you while you stood on trembling legs, frozen to the spot with only the wall for support.

Hope bloomed somewhere deep within you. Hope that he would forgive you, that he still wanted you, that he still wished to be with you despite the harsh words he’d spoken about your selfishness three days ago. You quenched a sobbed breath as your entire body confused you with the mixture of all the emotions running rampant within you. It was too much and you felt as if you were wound too tight, too tense and too loose at the same time — unable to untangle your feelings and thoughts while your body ached, thrummed, tensed, shook, all of it at the same time.

Your core ached far beyond anything else. A foreign sensation of coiling warmth your fingers seemed to itch to relieve. The view of Richard in the tub coming to the forefront, the sound of your name leaving his thin lips in such a darkly needy manner. You drew a shivering breath while trying to find your equilibrium. You couldn’t stay there, Richard would soon be done in the bathroom and you couldn’t face him when you were such a sordid mess.

After a few strained steps, you managed to get to the bedroom and slammed the door shut just as you heard the bathroom door open. You ran for the bed, diving in under the covers, and curled up in a ball of tension. What’s wrong with me? Why do I feel — Your thought was cut short when the door opened slowly, the tiniest of creaking from its hinges the only indication before Richard’s footsteps echoed out. He was moving closer, each thud echoed in your core with trepidation and shame filling your blood.

“Y/n?” he asked in a deep rumble, his voice thicker than usual. You curled up further, fully hidden under the cover. You didn’t know what else to do but to hide, despite the way you’d missed him while he was gone and how happy you had felt when you noticed him wake up a mere half an hour ago but not moving away from you.

“You should not have seen that,” he said after a short moment, his steps echoing out again — drawing closer once more as he rounded the bed. “I have done my utmost to wait, shield you from my needs to allow yours to dictate the pace we move in. Why would you enter the bathroom in such a manner?” he asked, from the sound of it he stood right by your side and his voice was thick with something dark you couldn’t quite name. “I-, I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice meek and strained with the confusing sensations tightening your body. “You called my name,” you continued quietly while listening to his rough breathing. A small whimper escaped you as your mind flashed with the way he’d said it, with such need and want. You never knew your name could sound so wondrous, so delectable, so lusty.

“Are you frightened of me?” he asked, his voice a caress of a rumble. “No.” “Why are you hiding, then?” You drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I-, I’m ashamed.” “Ashamed?” “Yes…” Because I feel like I’ll burst into flames if I look at you, and I looked at you when I shouldn’t have looked at you. And I’m frightened, and, and, and confused— “Why? Tell me,” Richard demanded. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t word what you were feeling, it was a mess and foreign to you. So, you remained quiet under the cover.

A long moment passed in silence, but you felt his presence. It only made you curl up further, your thighs pressing together in an attempt to relieve whatever ache had steadily built at the apex of them. You’d felt a shadow of the sensation before, after having wed Richard and lived with him for a few weeks. He’d been dressed splendidly, seated in the parlour with a book and his legs crossed leisurely. He’d looked magnificent, the afternoon sun had shone behind him and the grey in his hair had nearly glowed from the warm light. Is this that same feeling, only stronger?

“Wife,” Richard said steadily, “answer me.” “No, I-, I cannot,” you whispered, your throat tight. “Do you wish to be alone?” he then asked, dejection hidden in his voice. Did you? Did you want him to leave? “Yes… No…” If you leave now, maybe you’ll leave completely again. I don’t want that… “I shall leave you alone, I will remain in my office,” he said in a cold manner. His voice dark and deep, it sent goosebumps along your skin and the memory of how harshly he’d spoken to you three days ago surfaced. It made you cool slightly, your mind distracted from the images of seeing him in the tub.

His footsteps receded. The sound of the door knob being turned came and your heart jolted. You threw the cover off, your breaths turning rushed, and found his eyes staring at you — no emotions in them. As if he’d turned them off. “Don’t leave me again,” you said. “I took everything down, and I’m so sorry for what I did,” you continued while trying to keep the conflicting emotions and sensations at bay. On one hand, you wished to launch yourself at him and make him take away the ache, on the other you were terrified of the way he looked at you. Blandly. Blankly. 

You looked away, not able to hold the connection. Your eyes went to the window, shimmering icicles hung from the roof and the sparkles were beautiful as the sun shone on the clear ice. Perhaps those icicles were to be the only sparkle this Christmas. It tore a sigh from you, a pitiful sound really. Yet, still, you found yourself thinking that if he needed a Christmas that wasn’t all that Christmasy then you’d accept that, and deal with it — for him. Perhaps him saying your name during such a time as in the tub meant there was a chance for more between the two of you. 

His rushed footsteps filled the room, and you hadn’t time enough to turn your head before his warm hands cradled your cheeks and stormy eyes of grey held yours unwaveringly. “You… are apologizing, to me?” he asked, a low sound of disbelief. “ I should be the one to ask for your forgiveness, Y/n.” You couldn’t say anything, his eyes held you mesmerized and there was not a single thought in your head beyond wanting to kiss the lips confessing to wanting your forgiveness and lifting the blame from you.

“Wife, sweet wife,” he exhaled in a rush while his thumbs stroked your cheeks. The rainbow-coloured sparkles of the icicles danced around him and all you could do was hold his gaze as your body went taunt and hot from the way he looked at you.

…To Be Continued…

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: Well, that was a fun fic 🤭 This is really turning into something quite delicious and I do have plans for at least 2 more parts of this story so stay tuned for that in the near future - hopefully not too far off in the future (yes, yes, I'm itching to write more for Turpin - as usual 😂)

Q: What's that one thing that bothers you with the holidays? 👀 A: For me, it's the mania regarding gifts. Like, yes, I love to give and receive gifts but I think there's a bit too much of a buying spree every year rather than an actual thought behind the gifts. I'd rather have one well-thought-out gift than ten random ones 🤷

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[Dec:2023]

[hetalvetia]

Well. Ghost Kiku x Haunted Arthur continues to haunt me but... I wrote something short on my notes app. Its just Arthur mourning Kiku as he haunts him lmao. Very OOC I think... I just needed to get it out of my system.

Completely inspired by Galleria by Niru Kajitsu.

---

"It should've been like that... Yet here we are..." Arthur breathlessly sighed under that dingy, yellow light that he once shared with his love.

It was a love kindled when they were young and stupid — a mantra that Arthur always repeats to himself. His breath felt cold and difficult to breathe, but he could hear his blood pounding thoroughly through the veins in his lips.

The wooden table he sat before and the empty seat across it painted a scene as if he were going to be interrogated. If he was, he would have nothing to admit. Everything dissolved before him, is what he would cough up before succumbing to whatever interrogation techniques he would be victim to.

A cold breeze caressed his hand, and he tried to grab the sensation, hopeful of something—

"You're still thinking about me, Arthur." The breeze whispered to him. Its voice mimicked him, his love, but there was something off.

"Am I..." Without any thought nor confidence, Arthur answered back.

"It's been so long, but your heart still hurts for me..."

Arthur's heart tugged a little, and he felt something slither around him like an embrace, a hug.

Arthur's voice responded, devoid of any strength in it, "Does it...?" His heart thumped slowly but loudly. "I guess, I guess it does."

The voice reassured him, squeezing him tighter, "I miss you too... We had dreams together, where did they go?"

It strangled him, but he had no objections. Despite the lack of warmth, this was the only contact he had in forever. It felt strange and inhuman, but it was relieving.

"I-I don't know... I really don't know," Arthur's hands trembled as he brought them up to his vision to make sure he was still here. "Where did they go...?"

A pair of hands gently, and in an almost unnoticeable fashion, held Arthur's hands from behind and massaged their thumb across his palms.

"Dear Arthur," the presence of the voice grew stronger, and it was unmistakably him. It sounded just as sweet to Arthur's ears. It was just as low and resounded in the strings of Arthur's heart the same; it was undeniably his voice.

"I still love you, no matter what happened to us."

"Really...?"

"Our futures are connected. We can't escape each other. We're destined for each other."

"I think so, too."

"I love you. You really wanted me to say those words, so I will say it how many times you want, because I love you."

"I..."

"You love me too, I know, so don't bother. Save your breath."

Arthur found himself being lulled into a sweet daydream, where his love still felt alive. He felt young again, with all those sweet words being unconditionally muttered to him. He wanted to be loved again.

Hypnotised, he gradually turned his head to the side. He wasn't expecting anything in particular but hoping that his love was there.

And he was.

His cheek was nuzzled closely to Arthur's, and his eyes had a dreamy look. He was entranced by them, but he failed to notice the lack of colour in his cheeks and lips and the thin, stringy, black hair across his forehead. All that mattered was that he could see those eyes again, that always looked at him kindly, never with contempt or disgust.

The grip on Arthur's hands tightened gently, and his embrace became more and more apparent.

Arthur's eyes fluttered close as he recounted him. His thin yukata, and his soft skin. They always joke about his pale skin in the wintertimes, making him like a ghost when the sun shone him just right in the very few days they had sun then — but Arthur always remembered his golden eyes instead and his breathtaking beauty that haunted him in his every waking moment.

Even through tears of joy and anger, he couldn't keep his eyes off him. It was like that ever since; staring into the beauty of his being every day. It only made the emptiness of Arthur's days past him all the more eerie and unwelcoming.

"I love you, Kiku." He exhaled.

But as soon as those words left his mouth, it became silent. His throat became clear, and his skin could breathe. There was nothing anymore. Arthur hesitated to open his eyes, but he could no longer see sweet memories with them closed, instead, an unpromising and vacant static.

Tears streaked his face. What else was there to do, other than to cry? He sobbed pathetically into his hands, panting and hiccupping. He wanted to vomit these feelings out horribly, but nothing came up, just a gross sound.

Kiku never said, "I love you," in their last, rotting, mundane days together. Perhaps he wanted to, but Arthur never heard it. He couldn't help but feel like an idiot for pretending he heard it.

So he sat there, thinking about that gallery of memories Arthur so specifically picked out to frame, forgetting anything else that he didn't want to remember him by. Everything was so bittersweet about it though, and he struggled trying to throw away all he had of him, so he held those stale, rotten memories in his hands tightly, despite how horribly it dug into his palms and how it made them bleed and hurt. Remembering the subtlies of Kiku's gritted teeth and sharp glances in their last days — it made him delirious without how much he missed it.

Arthur shook his head. "It shouldn't be like this... It shouldn't..."

He repeated those words until he could feel some sense of normalcy again, or at least be able to feel himself in his own body again.