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dreamescapeswriting · 2 months

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Stray Kids Reaction || You're Not Financially Stable [Mafia Edition]

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - April 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

CHAN:

Chan was starting to get increasingly worried about you. You had been evading him for weeks, your once warm embraces replaced by cold distance. Suspicion clawed at his mind, whispering tales of betrayal and deceit. Unable to ignore the gnawing doubt any longer, Chan set out to confront you at your apartment. As he approached your door, his heart hammered against his chest, each step a testament to the turmoil within him.

Knocking gently, Chan waited with bated breath, the tension thick in the air. When no answer came, he pushed open the door, his eyes scanning the barren room.

"Yn?" he called out, his voice echoing against the empty walls.

Silence greeted him, the absence of her presence a heavy weight upon his shoulders. But then, amidst the desolation, a glimmer of hope flickered—a letter lying on the table, its edges crumpled with despair.

With trembling hands, he unfolded the paper, his eyes devouring the words scrawled upon it—a tale of eviction, of loss, and of a new beginning. You had been forced from your home, cast aside like a forgotten memory.

Determined to find you, Chan retraced your steps, each corner of the city a labyrinth of possibilities. It wasn't long before he stumbled upon a quaint café, its windows aglow with warmth and laughter. Above it lay a modest apartment, a sanctuary hidden from the chaos below.

Heart pounding, Chan ascended the stairs, anticipation mingling with trepidation. When he reached the door, he paused, uncertainty clouding his thoughts. But then, with a resolve born of love, he knocked.

The door swung open, revealing your tear-streaked face, your eyes widening in disbelief at the sight of him.

"Channie?" you whispered, your voice barely audible above the din of the city. You never thought you'd see him again after everything.

"Yn," he breathed, relief flooding through him at the sight of you, knowing you were well...at least alive, you looked as though you'd barely slept and had been crying a lot. Tears welled in your eyes as you beheld the man who had once held your heart, his presence a lifeline in the storm.

"I thought I'd lost you," You confessed, your voice trembling with emotion. After being kicked out, your phone was off service and you'd lost your charger so you couldn't even get his number. Everyone you turned to for help ignored you or pushed you away. Chan stepped forward, enveloping you in his embrace, his touch a promise of safety amidst the chaos.

"You'll never lose me," he vowed his words a beacon of hope in the darkness.

"I'm here, Yn. And I'm not going anywhere." He promised, kissing your cheeks and keeping you pressed close to him. He wasn't certain what the future held for you both but he was sure he wasn't going to lose you again.

MINHO:

Lee Minho, a prominent figure in the underground world of organized crime, strode into the opulent ballroom of the Grand Palazzo, his arm intertwined with that of his stunning girlfriend, you. The two of you were a striking pair; Minho, with his sharp suit and commanding presence, and you, elegant in your signature red dress, exuding grace and beauty.

The occasion was a black-tie charity event, a masquerade of the city's elite, where appearances were everything. Minho relished the opportunity to flaunt his status, but tonight, his focus was solely on you.

As you mingled through the crowd, a snide remark caught Minho's attention. A well-dressed socialite whispered to her companion, casting a disdainful glance at you,

"Isn't that the same dress she always wears? How embarrassing. Clearly, she can't afford anything better." It was a comment you'd grown used to hearing by now, it wasn't as though you could afford extravagant gowns every time Minho wanted you to join him at a party. Minho's jaw clenched in anger, his protective instincts kicking in. He resisted the urge to confront the woman, knowing it would only draw unwanted attention. Instead, he steered you away, his mind swirling with thoughts.

Later in the evening, amidst the swirl of music and laughter, Miinho overheard snippets of a conversation nearby.

"Did you hear about Yn? Word has it she's struggling to make ends meet. Works multiple jobs just to pay the bills."

"I heard Izzie say she saw her working in a diner just outside of the city," Another voice said before laughter ensued. Minho's heart sank. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. You had never mentioned anything about financial difficulties, and he had never thought to pry into your personal affairs. But now, faced with these rumours, he couldn't ignore them.

He guided you to a quiet corner of the room, his expression troubled. "Yn, is it true? Are you having trouble with money?" Your cheeks heated with embarrassment, and you looked down, unable to meet his gaze.

"Minho, I... I didn't want you to worry. It's nothing, really." It wasn't as though you were in tons of trouble, you just struggled to make ends meet sometimes and some weeks you'd have to survive on just noddles. Minho gently lifted your chin, his eyes searching yours for the truth.

"Don't shut me out, baby. I need to know. If you're struggling, we'll face it together." Tears welled in your eyes as you finally confessed,

"I've been working extra shifts at the diner, tutoring on the weekends, just to keep up with the bills. I didn't want you to think any less of me." his heart ached at your words. He had always admired your independence and strength, but now he saw the toll it was taking on you. Without hesitation, he pulled you into his embrace, holding you close.

"You don't have to do this alone, baby. I'm here for you, always. We're a team," he whispered softly, promising to support you in any way he could.

CHANGBIN:

Changbin strode purposefully up the steps to your apartment, anticipation building as he looked forward to spending time with you, the two of you had hardly spent any time together as of late since he got busy with work. However, his eagerness turned to concern as he noticed the unmistakable shape of an eviction notice pinned to your front door.

His heart sank as he read the terse words printed on the paper, realizing the gravity of the situation. Without hesitation, he knocked on the door, his mind racing with worry for you.

When you opened the door, your eyes widened in surprise and a flicker of embarrassment flashed across your face at the sight of him standing there with the notice in hand. You'd meant to take it down when you got home from work but you'd completely forgotten when you were cleaning the apartment.

Before you could say anything, he spoke gently but firmly, "What's going on, baby?" Your shoulders slumped in defeat as you met his gaze, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I've been struggling," you confessed, your words heavy with shame and yet admitting it felt as though a weight had been taken off your shoulders. "I couldn't keep up with the rent, and now they're evicting me." Changbin's heart ached at the sight of your distress, his protective instincts kicking into high gear. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, enveloping you in a reassuring embrace.

"You should have told me," he murmured, his voice filled with tenderness. "We'll figure this out together."

Determined to help you through this difficult time, he wasted no time in springing into action. Whether it was arranging for temporary housing, offering financial assistance, or simply providing emotional support, he was determined to be there for you every step of the way. He'd been tempted to buy the apartment building out from your landlord but you'd refused to let him, promising that what he was doing was already enough

HYUNJIN:

The atmosphere in the grand hall was electric as the auctioneer's voice echoed off the walls, commanding attention. Hyunjin was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, and surveyed the room with a practised eye, his gaze flickering over the exquisite artworks on display. It felt as though he did this a few times a week if he was lucky enough and he could never get enough of the art functions.

But amidst the flurry of bids and whispers, something caught his attention—a series of paintings that seemed strangely familiar. As he drew closer, his heart skipped a beat. They were your paintings, each stroke a testament to your talent and passion. Confusion and concern swirled in his mind as he approached the saleswoman, his tone carefully controlled.

"Excuse me," he began, "but could you tell me about the artist who donated these paintings?" He knew you'd never want to sell them and he worried someone might have stolen them from you. You'd sold a few paintings before but these were your masterpieces, the ones you couldn't even dream of selling.

The saleswoman offered him a sympathetic smile, her eyes betraying a hint of sadness.

"The woman who donated them was struggling," she explained softly. "She didn't want to sell, but she had no choice." A surge of protectiveness washed over Hyunjin as he listened to her words. He knew how much those paintings meant to you, how each brushstroke told a story of your dreams and aspirations. Without another word, he made up his mind. As the bidding continued around him, he silently placed his bids, determined to acquire every single one of your paintings.

Once the auction concluded and the paintings were in his possession, he wasted no time in arranging for them to be hidden away, safe from prying eyes and opportunistic buyers.

Weeks passed, and Hyunjin watched as you struggled with your art, unaware of the fate of your precious creations. He knew you longed to reclaim them, to see them hanging proudly in your studio once more. Hyunjin knew you'd never let him help you if he tried to give you money for rent or even if he tried to get you to let him help with anything but he was proud of you. You'd dug your way out of the financial pit you were in until you were ready again.

"I thought we were going to dinner," You giggled as Hyunjin took you into a warehouse, the two of you were going to celebrate your new job but he wanted to take you to your paintings first.

"It's a secret." He chuckled, as you entered the dimly lit room, Hyunjin could sense the tension radiating from you. You glanced around, your eyes widening in disbelief as they landed on row after row of canvases shrouded in darkness.

"What is this place?" You whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. Hyunjin stepped forward, his hand reaching out to gently grasp yours.

"This is where I've been keeping something for you," he explained softly, guiding you further into the room.

As you approached the first stack of paintings, he paused, allowing you to take in the sight before you. You gasped, your breath catching in your throat as you realized what lay hidden beneath the cloths. You'd been desperately trying to find the buyer for almost a week now, willing to trade him some of your other paintings for your old ones.

"These... these are my paintings," You whispered, your voice shakey as you turned to look at Hyunjin who was nodding, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips.

"Yes," he confirmed, his gaze never leaving yours. "Every single one of them." Tears welled up in your eyes as you moved closer, reaching out to touch the familiar textures of your artwork. It felt like a dream, surreal and yet undeniably real.

"Why?" You asked, your voice choked with emotion. "Why did you do this?" He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes filled with tenderness.

"Because I know how much these paintings mean to you," he replied softly. "And because I wanted to make sure they were safe until you were ready to reclaim them." Your heart swelled with gratitude as you looked up at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. In that moment, you knew that you were loved more deeply than you had ever dared to imagine.

Wrapping your arms around him, you buried your face in his chest, overcome with emotion.

JISUNG:

Jisung sat patiently in the living room, his mind drifting as he waited for you to finish getting ready for your date, the two of you were going out to celebrate your anniversary tonight. Glancing around the room absentmindedly, his eyes fell upon a stack of unopened envelopes on the coffee table—bills and late notices, their contents a stark reminder of the financial struggles they faced.

His brow furrowed in concern as he picked up one of the envelopes, his heart sinking as he read the ominous words printed on the front. He had suspected that you had been under financial strain, but he had never imagined it was this severe.

Before he could dwell on his thoughts any longer, he heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching, and he looked up to see you descending the stairs. But instead of the usual smile on your face, he was met with tear-filled eyes and a quivering lip when you saw what he was holding.

Instantly, his heart clenched with worry as he rose from his seat, crossing the room to envelop you in a comforting embrace. You snuggled into him and sniffled a little.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice filled with concern. You buried your face in his chest, your tears staining his shirt as you struggled to find the words to explain.

"I... I'm sorry," You choked out between sobs. "I didn't want you to see this... I've been trying to handle it on my own..." Your family taught you never to rely on others for your money and it was something you'd tried to stick by but it was getting harder and harder to hide your troubles. Jisung held you tighter, his own heart heavy with the weight of your pain. He had never wanted you to feel like you had to carry the burden alone, but he understood why you had kept it from him.

Gently guiding you to the couch, he sat beside you, wiping away your tears with a gentle touch.

"You never have to hide anything from me, my love," he assured you, his voice tender and reassuring. "We're in this together, no matter what." He whispered before kissing the top of your head, your heart was heavy as you stared at the stacks of unpaid bills just waiting for you to get another paycheck.

"It doesn't matter how much overtime I do, it's never enough." You admit to him with a sad smile, you wanted to be able to do this alone but it seemed damn near impossible.

"What can I do?" He whispered, rubbing your back softly as you stared down at the bills.

"Give me a job?"

"How about I do that and you come to live with me? We can split everything," You stared up at him, nodding with a small smile on your face, you couldn't think of anything better.

FELIX:

Felix sat in the dimly lit restaurant with his lawyers, enjoying the ambience of the evening. As plates clinked and conversations murmured around them, the mood suddenly shifted when his lawyers leaned in to offer some advice.

"Boss," one of them began cautiously, Felix thought his name was Noel but he couldn't have been sure since the two of them were twins and he could hardly tell the difference.

"We've been noticing something concerning about the women you've been seeing lately." Felix lowered his drink to the table and raised an eyebrow, intrigued but also wary of where this conversation might lead. He hadn't given them any permission to dig into you or your life, in fact, he'd given specific orders for almost all of his men to leave you alone.

"She doesn't seem... financially stable," The other lawyer added, choosing his words carefully, swallowing a lump in his throat and Felix noted he appeared to be sweating.

Felix felt a surge of disbelief and anger. These were his trusted advisors, but their intrusion into his personal affairs caught him off guard. He clenched his fists beneath the table, trying to keep his emotions in check.

"Not financially stable?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous.

"What exactly do you mean by that?" His lawyers exchanged uncomfortable glances, sensing his displeasure.

"Well, boss," Noel ventured,

"we mean that perhaps the woman isn't the best match for someone in your position. They could be a liability, you know?" Felix's jaw tightened. He felt a mix of indignation and hurt. You were being judged solely on your financial status and he wanted nothing more than to kick the lawyers to the curb but they'd told him something you hadn't yet.

He leaned back in his chair, a steely resolve settling over him.

"I appreciate your concern," he said icily, "but I'll thank you not to meddle in my personal life. I'll handle my relationships as I see fit." His lawyers exchanged uneasy glances, realizing they may have overstepped their bounds. But the Felix wasn't finished.

"And from now on," he continued his voice like ice, "I don't want to hear another word of advice on this matter. Is that clear?" His lawyers nodded hastily, sensing the gravity of the situation.

Later that night Felix found himself sitting across from you in your small apartment, your bills stretched out on the coffee table as you showed him everything that was late or on its final notice. It wasn't exactly something you were proud of but when he'd asked you if he could see it you didn't want to hide it from him.

"So Noel and Joel told you?" You laughed dryly and rubbed the back of your neck,

"I would have loved for you to tell me." He admitted, looking at the pieces of paper before he started to organise them into piles from most urgent to not-so-urgent.

"I was-"

"I know," He whispered, rubbing your hand softly as you laid your head down on the coffee table. You'd been trying everything to get yourself out of the hole you were in but it was proving to be more difficult than you'd been intending

"I think the best option is for you to move in with me," The suggestion came out so casually you thought it might have been a joke if it wasn't for him looking at you with a serious look on his face.

"Your biggest problem is your rent, once that's out of the way you'll have more than enough money for your bills." He told you with a smile, he'd been meaning to ask you for a while but this was just giving him that final push.

"I still need to pay rent at yours," You told him and he nodded at you,

"Sure, but only once you're back on your feet, I won't take no for an answer," He smirks at you before your cheeks begin to heat up, moving in with him was the next step in your relationship, it only made sense.

"O...Okay, great. I'll call my landlord-"

"I'll call, you focus on packing," He smirks, kissing you softly as you rush to go and get some bags and suitcases ready.

SEUNGMIN:

Seungmin's heart pounded with fury as he burst into your apartment, only to be met with a scene of chaos. Two burly loan sharks loomed over you, their menacing presence casting a shadow over the room as they smashed objects in a display of intimidation.

Without hesitation, Seungmin stepped forward, his imposing figure radiating authority. The loan sharks froze in their tracks, their expressions shifting from arrogance to fear as they recognized him.

"What's going on here?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. You turned to see him, relief flooding your features at the sight of him but you were still scared that he was here.

"It's... it's nothing," you stammered, your voice trembling with emotion. "They say I owe them money, but I don't know what to do."

Seungmin's jaw clenched as he surveyed the damage, his mind racing with a mix of anger and concern. He knew you had been struggling, but he had never imagined the extent of your troubles.

Turning to the loan sharks, he fixed them with a steely gaze. "Leave. Now," he commanded, his voice brooking no argument. The loan sharks hesitated for a moment, exchanging uneasy glances before hastily retreating from the apartment, their bravado crumbling in the face of the Seungmin's formidable presence.

Once they were gone, he turned his attention back to you, his expression softening with concern.

"What happened?" he asked gently, his voice tinged with regret for not realizing the extent of your struggles sooner. Tears welled up in your eyes as you recounted the story of your ex-boyfriend, how he had left you drowning in debt with no way to escape. God, you'd been too ashamed to ask for help, too afraid of burdening him with your problems.

But as you poured your heart out to him, you felt a weight lifting from your shoulders, knowing that you no longer had to face your troubles alone.

"We're going to find your ex, make him pay those assholes back and then you're moving in with me," He tells you plainly, looking around at everything those two had smashed up,

"Make a list of everything they've broken, I'll have your ex or them replace it," He said sternly, looking at you as you wrapped yourself around him and cuddled into him, just happy you weren't going to go through this alone anymore.

JEONGIN:

The atmosphere at the black-tie event was opulent, with chandeliers casting a soft glow over the elegantly dressed guests. Jeongin, resplendent in his tailored suit, mingled effortlessly among the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and nods with fellow attendees.

"Isn't that your girlfriend?" Someone asked him, his gaze wandered to where his friend had been pointed and he frowned when he spotted you. His heart skipped a beat as he realized it was you, clad in a crisp uniform as you moved gracefully among the guests.

Confusion and concern mingled in his mind as he watched you discreetly from across the room. You had told him you were too sick to join him tonight, but here you were, working tirelessly to cater to the needs of others.

"Who knew you'd be dating a waitress," Someone sniggered before Jeongin "accidentally" spilt a glass of champagne down his suit, glaring at him before going back to watching you. Anger simmered beneath the surface as he approached you, his steps purposeful yet controlled. When he reached your side, he fixed you with a steely gaze, his voice low and measured.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, his tone tinged with a mix of frustration and disbelief. Your eyes widened in surprise as you met his gaze, your whole body heating up. You hadn't known that this was the specific party he was going to be at tonight,

"I... I had to work," You stammered, Your voice barely above a whisper. Jeongin's jaw tightened, his mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions. He had trusted you and believed you when you said you were too sick to accompany him tonight. But now, faced with the truth, he couldn't help but feel betrayed.

"Is that so?" he replied, his voice cold and distant. "You couldn't even be honest with me?" You lowered your gaze, your hands fidgeting nervously at your sides, it wasn't like you wanted to hide it from him but you were working four jobs and it was hard to let people know that.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the din of the crowd. "I didn't want to disappoint you." Jeongin's anger softened slightly as he looked at you, his heart aching with a mixture of frustration and compassion. He knew you had your reasons, your own struggles and obligations that you felt compelled to fulfil.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out to gently cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly tender despite the tension between them.

"You should have told me," he murmured, his voice softer now, laced with an undercurrent of understanding.

"How? I work four jobs and you barely work one, I-I felt like you might hate me if you found out." You admit before he takes you in his arms, wrapping them around your waist and pulling you flush against him.

"I couldn't care if you worked none or ten, you're my girlfriend and I'm here for you, no matter what," He whispered before kissing you softly.

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dreamingaboutsakuratrees · 1 year

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I always see people saying that Bart Allen is the social butterfly and Tim Drake is the socially awkward one. And while I do not know enough about Bart to have an opinion on him, y'all are so wrong about Tim.

Ma boi was raised by Jack and Janet Drake. People who can afford to buy the manor next to the Wayne's. They own a multi-million company. They're old money.

What I'm trying to say is, Tim is a socialite kid. He knows what to do, how to talk, what smiles to give to old ladies in diamond earrings and the strength with which to shake possible investor's hands so they don't feel threatened or underwhelmed.

Just like Bruce has his Brucie Wayne persona, Tim has Timothy Drake, good convertionalist, straight-A student, the perfect heir and eventually the perfect CEO/shareholder/whatever he is to WE because at this point I've lost track.

Also I love the idea of Damian seeing this at their first gala together finding it absolutely bewildering, because as a person Tim is barely a functional human being and as a vigilante RR has the social skills of a wet paper bag unless dealing with victims, but as Timothy he is this smooth talking, charming bastard who can win everyone's heart at a gala in a couple hours. Damian had gone into that gala expecting his brother to make a fool of himself over and over again, maybe even make it to the magazine covers for falling into the chocolate fountain or something. But for the first time in years, Damian is scared because it has to be some sort of witchcraft to change personalities so easily and Father, run a tox screen on Drake because there is clearly something wrong with him–

Just. Socially competent Tim Drake + little gremlin Damian who is in awe.

#dc robin #dc #dc universe #tim drake #timothy drake #damian wayne #damian al ghul #batfamily #batfam #batman #red robin #robin #batman and robin #tim and damian #batbros #rambles

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comatosebunny09 · 3 months

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Hear me out:

Bodyguard!Leon understands you lead a life of luxury. Knows you’re used to fancy dinners and luxury cars. Glittery things. But he also knows that those all bore you. That you prefer the simpler things. Stuffed animals won at the carnival. Carne asada tacos from the food truck park on the not so ritzy side of town. Swinging your legs on the edge of the pier, watching the stars glimmer in the sky subtly reaching for Leon’s hand.

He also knows the pretty boys who’ve flit in and out of your life haven’t offered you much aside from sex and empty compliments. That you haven’t gone steady for a very long time. That people often use you for your status and wealth. But you grin and bear it. You’re used to it. Expect it.

Which is why you’re a little alarmed when Leon drops a small, rectangular box into your hands one night in your parking garage. Clad in matte black wrapping paper, accented with a gilded bow.

Your limbs still hum with the champagne you consumed earlier, and it’s like hot potato trying to keep your present from tumbling to the ground.

Earlier, you attended a party for socialites and influencers. Stood out like a sore thumb—or at least, to Leon, you did. A nervous little wallflower, smiling pretty for TikTok and Snapchat. Less fickle than the people around, all bathed in the blue light of their phones.

You clung to your bodyguard’s sleeve despite projecting this air of confidence. Hid your anxiety behind a flute of Chardonnay for most of the night before Leon whisked you away to safety.

“For me?” you trill with a dazzling smile.

“Yeah,” Leon chuckles, sheepishly rubbing the scruff of his neck.

You’re so goddamn adorable. Garbed in his suit jacket that’s clearly too big for you, hair spilling from your updo, and your heeled sandals dangling from a curled finger.

Leon averts his gaze, shifting his weight between his feet. Doesn’t know why he feels so shy. So little beneath the sparkle of your eyes. He’s been with you for years. Seen you sweat, bleed, and cry. So why, why is he suddenly so damn apprehensive?

You’re tender as you unravel his gift. And his heart sits heavy in his throat. Your eyes light up with glee at what’s painstakingly revealed. And your chest puffs up with a gasp.

Leon’s so not smug as he eyes you in his peripheral. Isn’t smirking at how something so small makes you grin so big. Not at all.

“What the fuck, Leon! An OLED Switch?!”

He’s never heard you more ecstatic. Like a kid unleashed on a theme park. A woman left on her own in Target.

“No fucking way!” you continue, turning your box this way and that.

“Yes way.”

He bites back a smile as you do a happy jig and fist pump. Who told you it was alright to be this irresistible?

#leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon x you #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon fluff #bodyguard au #bodyguard!leon

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manicpixiefelix · 5 months

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never wanted anything from you (except everything you had)

{ One-Shot AU for head, heart, hand. }

@saintbeau asked: I know you said in the Canon ending, up until a certain point, Oliver was planning to let the reader live. If he'd never decided to kill them, do you think they'd suffer a similar fate as Farleigh and be forced out? Or do you think there's ever a possibility of 'the pet coming with the house' so to speak? I think to a degree Oliver's yearning to take Felix's place could lead him to essentially slotting himself alongside the reader if they'd allow it.

Summary: After the death of your best friend and his sister, you can't bring yourself to stay at Saltburn, even when their grieving mother wishes you would. However, after several years away to process and grow, you find yourself back in touch with Oliver Quick, who's changed so much in the time you've spent apart. Fate certainly has a funny was of working out, so you're not entirely surprised to end up back at the place you'd once called home.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons. Oliver/Reader are endgame here.

Warnings: Very poor relationship with reader's parents. SALTBURN-CANON ENDING; Felix & Venetia are still dead, but we get a happy ending this time. Also not sure if it needs a warning but Oliver does admit to killing Felix.

A/N: 4162 words. This got away from me. this ends up being so painfully fluffy. it's VERY Oliver/Reader, Oliver's less of a bastardman and he doesn't kill Elspeth but her health is failing significantly like it does in the movie. i think i might have made him a better person as compared to the film, but it's still canon compliant mostly. it ends so fluffy and happy tho, i love it omg. AGAIN THIS IS NOT CANON TO head, heart, hand.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

There is no world where you stay where Oliver wins.

But there's a world where you leave, heart too heavy with grief, where you transfer from Oxford and spend time as an adult reconnecting with your own family, where he finds you again. Your parents don't respect you as family, but you're granted access to their lives, to be in their line of sight; you become almost like a live-in assistant who takes meals with them but for whom they show no outward affection.

It's all you have left.

You tell yourself it's enough.

"That Catton fellow offed himself," your father says it with such idleness, as if reporting the weather.

"Sir James?" You almost choke on your breakfast, and father peers down his nose at you over his morning paper, giving you a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Yes, sorry, I forgot you knew him -"

"Surely it doesn't say that he offed himself," your mother frowned, tugging at the corner of the paper to try and get a look at the article. They bicker lightly, charmingly, in the middle of this cafe about the death of your best friend's father, and what the article is saying or implying, but you just wonder about Elspeth.

Later, when you search through old papers and memories and notebooks, you find the number for Saltburn and call. Duncan's voice is familiar, as is yours to him.

"Captain," the old nickname is so gentle on his tongue, the most gentle you'd ever heard him be about anything. Then, as quickly as you'd heard it, the gentleness is replaced with apology, letting you know that Elspeth is unavailable, but that you'd be welcome to attend Sir James' funeral. You know you'd never be able to bring yourself to attend.

It's Oliver who reaches out, deliberate, in the months that follow. It's slow going, too formal for how intimately, how messily you knew each other for those few months in the Spring and Summer. He apologises, says he saw you on the cover of a tabloid trailing a pair of aging socialites and looked further into it.

"You looked -" he tells you over dinner in the city, beautiful, settled, no more of his youthful awkwardness; it had only been a few years, but how glad you were to see him, "fucking miserable," he says so gently, taking your face in his hands. Oh fuck, you'd missed him, missed his touch, missed how clearly he could see you - you burst into tears in the restaurant.

Dating Oliver makes you feel like a whole new person, raw, relearning yourself, realising you'd been living like a ghost since you'd left Saltburn. Your hyper competency had needed an outlet and your parents had provided that, but you were barely a person, to them or to yourself. Now you were learning who you were, alone.

Quieter. More focused and driven in your professional endeavours. As dangerously charming as Farleigh ever was. The memory of Venetia peeking through in your wickedly sharp wit. An echo of Felix in the affection you carried with you, in your smile, in your laugh. A living ghost, learning to love and embrace the ways in which you were haunted, rather than grieving for them.

You spend nights in his little flat, take refuge from your own life in his, and Oliver's the one who informs you that Elspeth has moved into town, leaving Saltburn echoing and empty, if not for the skeleton crew that maintains it.

"She wants to see you," there's a strange look in his eyes when he says it, something conflicted, almost dark, but when you smile, he too lights up.

Elspeth holds you for a very long time. In the middle of a cafe in walking distance for your both it turns out, there's tears in her eyes, and a joyful smile, and she doesn't let you go even as Oliver goes and order you all drinks.

"So beautiful, you've always been so beautiful," she murmurs, long, elegant fingers feather light against your features, no care for propriety here, "you're so grown up." It's like she's trying to connect the person you are now with the memory she has of you. Tears are welling in your own eyes.

"I'm sorry I left, mum." There's a lump in your throat and her tears start to fall as she takes your face gently, cradling you against her, laughing through her bittersweet memories.

"I never blamed you, pet, never," she assures, voice wet with tears but reassuring nonetheless. Oliver sits down on your other side, wordlessly leaning into you both, resting his head on your shoulder. The three of you stay like that for a long moment. You can hear Elspeth sniffling quietly.

The moment breaks, she lets you go, and when you sit back up, Oliver takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and resting your joined hands on the table. Immediately Elspeth's eyes focus upon them, and she gives a warm smile to your both.

"I cannot believe you've found each other again," and she sounds so genuinely joyful, "it's funny how the universe works out." Oliver gives a faint, bashful smile, leaning into you, bumping your shoulder for a bit.

"I'm a lucky man," there's something wonderfully, desperately loving in his eyes when he looks at you in this moment. It is, to him, the total and complete truth. Before you're overwhelmed by your urge to kiss him, however, Elspeth continues.

"After all that's happened, I am glad luck, and life, have brought you both back to me; I was just saying to dear Ollie the other day," Elspeth rests her cool, well manicured hand on your free hand, sitting on the table, "the two of you should come stay at Saltburn again."

Something constricts in your throat, grip on Oliver's hand tightening momentarily.

"I know," Elspeth is quick to move her hand to your shoulder, seeing the way your expression changes, drops, "but that house still holds so much love for you, my dear pet," and she takes a deep, shaky breath, finally admitting, "and I can't bring myself to be there alone."

Looking to Oliver, he gives you a gentle smile, nothing but sweet warmth and reassurance; he's changed so much since Saltburn, so sweet, so sublime. That version of Oliver didn't know how to love you or Felix in a way that was good for any of you, you came to realise, but this Oliver, oh this Oliver had crafted himself a home in your heart with love you didn't think anyone other than Felix had been capable of.

"It can be our home again," he murmurs, a sentiment Elspeth echoes like she hadn't even realised that was what she had wanted from you both;

"It can be your home again."

The drive to Saltburn feels like a memory, of young laughter and loud music and Summer sweat whipped away by the wind in Felix's convertible. The car you'd chosen to take with you is far more sensible, but still relatively ostentatious, and when you ask Oliver to drive, he of course obliges you. Still, the music is loud, and the day is warm, and even if the two of you are quiet, there's still a warm hand on your knee.

And you still feel loved.

Saltburn creaks and echoes with familiarity.

The doors open, and though you don't recognise the footmen either side of the entrance, you certainly recognise Duncan. He's older, of course, as are you. There's a touch of grey by his temples, and he's paler than you remember, but still prim, still gaunt and haunting -

"Mister Quick," until his eyes fall on you, and he softens almost imperceptibly, but you see it, you hear it in his voice, "and Captain Y/N," almost like it's an in-joke between you both by now.

"It's good to see you, Duncan," you tell him sincerely, and for the briefest moment he actually smiles.

"And you as well."

Everything's the same, just as Elspeth had assured you both. Everything's the same, just as when you'd left. Fled. Alone all those years ago.

Coming back, hand in hand with Oliver, it feels surreal.

Grand foyer, red staircase, secluded alcove that you and Venetia used to tease Felix about regarding his 'accidental' bout of cousin fingering, Henry Seventh's cabinet, the arch Felix claimed his grandmother haunted, the Green Room, gardens through the windows, Rubens that Felix never cared for but you had always appreciated. Still broken piano. Blue Room; still blue. The King's bedroom, not that you cared for Henry the Eighth, but Felix always liked to bring it up. The long gallery. Portraits of Cattons you had never cared for. Shakespeare's folios that you and Felix had spent a Winter going through, just to brag that you had, without realising how few people would care.

Sir James' teddy was absent from it's usual chair. Something about that makes something ache in your chest, just a little. So you look away, to the maze beyond the windows that you never want to go in again.

You know this house, this route, like the back of your hand even now. Oliver holds your hand tightly as you rest your hand on the intricate doorknob of the midnight blue door that you both remember so well.

"Are you okay?" Oliver's voice is quiet, is reverential, as you hesitate. Nodding once, you push open the door.

It still smells like Felix. His things are still here, still a bit of a mess. Books and knickknacks and photos. His wardrobe door is still ajar, the way you know you left it when you'd been scrambling to pack your own garments when you'd last been here, and his clothes still hang there, frozen, a moment in time.

It aches, but it doesn't... hurt. Not like you thought it would. It almost seems silly, to have this preserved for so long.

"Can we stay in here, Duncan?" You call out, knowing he must be around somewhere, he always was.

"I thought you might," Elspeth's gentle voice from the doorway makes you and Oliver both jump. But she's smiling at you both, and once the shock has worn off, you can't help but laugh. It sets you all off, laughing warmly, fondly, all three in Felix's perfectly untouched room.

Elspeth does, however, let you know that they've had the bathroom redone. She doesn't say it's because of Venetia, but you're quietly grateful nonetheless. You don't know if you could bring yourself to bath in there if all you could think about was Venetia's blood across the bathroom floor. It's different now.

When you try out the new tub, still claw-footed, still deep and soothing, there comes a knock at the door you'd left ajar out of habit.

"Mind if I join you?" It's Oliver, with a teasing little smile and hope in his eyes. He does not wait at the door like you know he once had, he is bold, he is unapologetic, he is confident in his love. Enthusiastically you wave him over, delighted to create new, better memories in this bathroom that no longer resembles the one you know.

There's still this strange kind of divide; Oliver, at times, still acts like a guest. Saltburn's been your home for too long for you to feel uncomfortable within it's walls, but Oliver's still always asking permission. For everything. He asks if he can borrow some of Felix's old clothes and looks relieved when you look at him like it's an absurd request.

"He's not going to be wearing them."

Elspeth gets this look in her eyes whenever she recognises any of Felix's clothes on Oliver, fond and nostalgic as she tells him she's glad they're no longer gathering dust.

"Beautiful clothes for a beautiful boy," she liked to say.

It takes you a few weeks to realise Elspeth's ulterior motives. Her health is failing. She has no family left. She needs people. As Oliver had pointed out so long ago, you were both desperate to be needed. Much like when you were younger, your own parents had no qualms about you living your life at Saltburn without them; they'd hire another assistant. The email they'd sent back to you did however note that you had been the best assistant either of them had ever had. It's the nicest thing they'd ever said to you.

Elspeth speaks to you alone one morning during the fall, the grounds turning all shades of golds and oranges.

"I..." your thoughts are moving too fast, her offer was so simple yet so overwhelming, "can't take Saltburn." A deep sigh escapes her, and she looks out over the grounds, but pets your knee, "I won't leave," you try to placate her, "you, or Saltburn, if you'd like me to stay; I'll be like Duncan -" this gets her to laugh, fond and bright, "but I think it will complicate things with my own family."

She tells you she understands. Her voice is getting weaker by the day. Then, after another long moment of gentle silence and contemplation, she speaks carefully.

"And Oliver?"

Part of you kind of knew this was coming.

"He might love Saltburn more than me," you admitted with a chuckle, "and he loves you dearly, you know that right?"

"He's such a strange, beautiful creature," Elspeth muses fondly, "I don't know if James even looked at me the way he looks at you," she smiles at you, expression turning soft and nostalgic for just a moment, "Felix used to look at you like that, didn't he?"

"In his own way," you agreed, unable to look her in the eyes while knowing exactly what she meant, exactly what she could see in this moment.

"They say we have more than one soulmate in our lives, pet," she says softly, reassuringly, and you look up once more. There's gentle hope and fragments of old grief that wrap around your heart as she continues, giving your knee a faint squeeze, "I think you're one of the lucky ones."

And your mind settles back on Oliver, how good, how kind, how loving he's been in the year since you'd reconnected. Finally, you're able to smile.

"I think so too."

Oliver seems genuinely surprised when you and Elspeth approach him with the offer. He keeps looking at you, confused. All you can do is smile, assure him that you want Saltburn to be in his name.

"I'm not abandoning you," you laugh, "I'll be here as long as you'll have me, help take care of any paperwork or maintenance or, well, calling people to take care of those things."

"They're a good house pet," Elspeth actually teases, while Oliver is still silent, looking at you in awe. He stutters through a verbal agreement, and Elspeth delightedly says she'll get the contract drawn up in the next few days.

"Why me?" Oliver finally asks, and Elspeth stands, wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

"You've worked hard all your life, Ollie, I can see that in you," she murmurs, "and you loved the ones so dear to me. I know you will love this home, and my darling Y/N, and one day I know it will be a family home again."

Oliver is quiet during supper, he keeps looking at you with this unreadable expression, almost grateful, but somehow intrigued. There's something lighter about him now, less tension carried in his shoulders, a small smile he can't quite get rid of. After you all eat, he offers you his arm and asks you to stroll the grounds in the moonlight.

"I thought it'd be you," his voice is so soft. The moon makes him glow. He's wearing the pale, linen shirt of Felix's that catches the light so beautifully.

"I could tell," you can't help but smirk, gently ribbing him. When he laughs, it almost sounds disbelieving.

"Saltburn was your home first."

"Saltburn is a place," you tell him, "my home was always the people in it."

"Felix was your home," he remembers when you'd told him that, how wide Felix had smiled when he'd heard it.

"And now," you're surprised by how your voice catches as you realise what you're about to say, "it's you."

"You love me," Oliver turns with wide, adoring eyes, while you can't help your shy smile.

"Of course I love you, you know I love you -"

"You love me-love me," he sounds like he's discovered the meaning of life, like he can see it in your eyes. Then, very suddenly, a whole new realisation seemed to wash over him, "I think I actually want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Oh! Is this -?

"I don't have a ring, fuck-!" Before he can get any further, you're kissing him, wrapping your arms around him, desperate to make him taste how much you fucking love him. Giddy and burning with desire, you feel like a teenager again, overwhelmed with delight and affection in this old house you call a home.

When you suggest that you meet his parents, properly this time, Oliver makes a face like he's bitten a lemon. It's a beautiful, cool mid-morning at the beginning of Winter, grey light reaching through the curtains to caress you and your fiancé, wrapped up in Egyptian cotton sheets.

"I've met them before," you remind him gently, hand splayed out across his chest as he looks at the ceiling, "I don't hold that Summer against you."

"Felix stopped... trusting me," his voice barely breaks a whisper, "he stopped loving me because of them," it trembles, catching, and you see tears in his eyes. A flush was rising up his cheeks, grief and a strange kind of fury overwhelming him it seemed, much to your surprise, "you should hold that Summer against me, should hate me, should -" it's spilling from him now, with such speed, such anger that it's almost frightening.

"Ollie, love -"

"I wasn't in my right mind, I was sick and obsessed and- and- and I can't believe I hurt you like that -"

"What are you talking about?"

Through his tears, his grief, his outburst, Oliver threw his arm over his face, unable to look at you, unable to look at anything in this room he now seemed to regret being in.

"I just wanted him to love me too," Oliver choked out, "I know you tried to help me - I can't believe I hurt you, I know you loved him - but I didn't want him to love anyone if he didn't love me."

"Oliver."

"I put the cocaine in his wine. I gave him the bottle. I left him there."

To your surprise, as much as the news hurts, it comes in a dull wave of grief, not the sharp, stinging kind you were braced for. What you don't expect is the sympathy that wells up inside of you for the man who just admitted to killing your best friend.

But you had spent years grieving for Felix, had come to terms with it, made peace with it. It's a shock to the system, of course, to learn he was murdered, but you can see the hurt, the guilt that Oliver had been carrying with him, and knows how it feels to be overwhelmed with love for Felix Catton to the point where you'd do unspeakable things with him in your heart. You'd ruined lived over one-word insults spat in his direction because that was who you were, that was what you did.

And you knew Oliver Quick, who he was, how he operated, the kind of desperate jealousy and need to be needed that became dangerous or perverse when they went unsated. Neither of you were the people you once were.

Carefully, you drape yourself over Oliver as he wept, wrapping him up tightly in a hug with one arm, other reaching up to brush through his dark, messy hair.

"Loving Felix makes us do terrible things," you murmur softly, fingers carding through his hair, "you took someone special from this world, but we can't change that."

"Why the fuck are you being so nice right now?" Oliver groans, voice full of disbelief, "I just told you -"

"You loved Felix and he stopped loving you back; you were drunk, and obsessive, and out of your mind with some psychosexual desire. You killed the man you loved, that we loved," you recount firmly, and he quiets down, still sniffling, "do you regret it?"

"Yes," he whispers.

"Are you lying?"

A long pause follows.

"I don't know."

"Did you ever stop loving him?"

"I don't think I ever will," then, moving his arm, he reaches out for your face, gently cupping your jaw. His eyes are bright red, smudged tear tracks shining on his cheeks, "I don't think you will either." You shake your head, confirming as much, before you turn your face and press a kiss to his palm.

"You're not that same person, Oliver, neither am I. The version of me from that Summer might never forgive the Ollie that killed Fi, but I know you now, and I know you love me, and you'll love this house, and the memory of Felix, just like I will."

"Why are you so good to me?"

"Because you're not a saint, and you're not a devil. You can't change the past. You're just a human, full of flaws, but you're better than you used to be, I know."

"I love you." He coaxes you forward, bringing you in for a passionate, messy kiss, murmuring against your lips, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Still, you keep this revelation between the two of you. Elspeth never needed to know.

It was a small ceremony at the beginning of Spring on the grounds of the Saltburn Estate. Elspeth was barely able to get out of bed anymore, so the location was more for her sake than anything else. She'd insisted on taking the reigns for planning the wedding though, looking through folders and magazines with you and Oliver at her bedside.

A beautiful flower archway, Duncan officiating, and only your families as guests. At your suggestion and reassurance, Oliver had worked hard to repair his relationship with his family.

"You don't have to lie about being important anymore," you'd smirked at him, "you're inheriting the Saltburn Estate, you're marrying into my family; you're Oliver Quick, that means something."

Oliver's family had marvelled at the estate the minute they arrived at the property; his sisters and their partners seemed shocked and delighted.

"Is this your place?" One had asked you, eyes bright and incredulous as you and Oliver were giving them all the tour.

"Ollie's actually," you give him arm a squeeze as you give him a proud smile, watching as he ducks his head, flush with embarrassment.

"This is you house, Ollie?! What the fuck!?" Another shouted, even as her own partner laughed while asking her to tone it down.

Before the wedding even begins, his oldest sister has talked him into letting she and her children visit in the Summer.

It comes as a surprise when your own parents show up, though you suspect it's because Elspeth personally called to invite them, not because of you. They too are impressed by the house, but less so than the Quicks; they'd been there for gatherings in years past, after all.

When your grandmother arrives, however, that's when it all becomes real for you. Unlike your parents, she dotes on you. Your grandfather had been the head of the business when he'd been alive; your grandmother was a dedicated professional, but always a romantic at heart, which is where your mother claimed to have gotten her artistic proclivities from.

Oliver says you have the same, beautiful eyes, and she chuckles.

"He's a charmer, I see," she teases, but wraps him up in a hug. "You be good to them, Mister Quick," your grandmother tells him in a faux-stern voice as she leans out of the hug, "we're the kind of family you don't want to get on the wrong side of." Despite how she's waving a finger at him and doing her best angry glare, Oliver can't help but cast you a fond smile, wrapping an arm around you.

"I'm aware, ma'am; every day I feel lucky to have Y/N by my side."

This seems to sate your grandmother, who pets his cheek fondly, and tells you that you've got a good one.

"I think so too."

It's a beautiful, perfect day, the best day of your life so far, where the worst day is now but a mere memory. All that matters is Oliver Quick, and the love in his eyes as he looks at you, as he promises you;

"This house will be full of people who love you for the rest of your life."

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #oliver quick imagine #saltburn imagine #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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natti-ice · 3 months

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Hi lovely!

Could I ask for a Benedict fic where him and reader get pretty messy with the his paints? 💕🥹

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni, nudity, sensual touching, kissing, implied sex (1k words)

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

You had met Benedict at a social event this past season and the two of you got on very well, any time you saw each other in passing you had to stop and make conversation. You felt at ease with him, he was so down to Earth unlike most of the uptight socialites of the city. You were very fond of him in general and it seemed he felt the same about you. Not to mention the fact you were also very attracted to him. He often spoke to you about his art and his passion for finding the beauty in life, he showed you his work book of sketches, all of random things he found beautiful even if most people don't.

Today on a casual stroll in the park, Benedict casually asked you if you would like to be the subject of one of his paintings, you had never thought of modeling before but it intrigued you. You were always curious on how people viewed you and this would show you his perspective of you, so you agreed. He brought you back to his studio and showed you some of paintings he had hanging around by artists that inspired him, then he lead you over to the center of the room where he had a large sheet of white paper spread across the floor. You assumed it was to protect his floors from any paint drippings but you were quite wrong.

"This is our canvas for today, my lady" Benedict smiles

You chuckle and furrow your brows a bit "I'm sorry what? Are you going to draw a life size version of me?"

"No, dear" he laughs softly "I'm going to paint with you. I want to use your body as a brush, if that's okay with you of course" he adds that last part in quickly to reassure you can pull out at any time. There's a sparkle in his eyes as he explains how he wants to cover your nude bodies in paint and roll around making an abstract design. "So, what do you say?" His voice is filled with hope, he desperately wants you to say yes.

You think about his offer for a moment, the thought of being naked with him excites you but also makes you very nervous. You have only known him a short amount of time but you trust him a lot, you nod with a soft smile "okay, I'm in."

"Excellent" he grins and claps his hands together once "you can get undressed while I prepare the paints." he gives you a comforting smile then turns around and walks to the back of his studio where he keeps his paint. You slowly start to undress, you feel the butterflies in your stomach intensifying as you shed each piece of clothing. Finally naked, you fold your clothes neatly and set them on a small sofa nearby. The window of the studio is cracked out letting in a soft breeze, you feel goosebumps grow on your bare skin and your nipples become erect.

A few moments later, Benedict came back carrying a tray with small cans full of paint "alright here we are-" he stops dead in his tracks when he sees you, his eyes wide in surprise as he takes all of you in "wow... you're absolutely breathtaking" his voice is so soft it's almost a whisper

You chuckle nervously, you feel your whole body start to heat up "um, thank you, sir" you wrap your arms around your body, very aware of how exposed you are. He steps closer to you and sets the tray on a small table, he picks up a can filled with red paint and holds it up to you.

"May I?" He asks for permission, you nod slightly giving him full access to your body. He dips two fingers into the paint and slowly runs them along your collar bone, it slowly starts to drip down your front as your body temperature melts the paint. He works his way down your body, streaking the red all over you, his fingertips ever so slightly graze your nipples sending a shiver down your spine. "Beautiful" he whispers softly before setting the paint canister down and began to strip his clothes off.

You watched him closely as each article of clothing flew from his body leaving him bare in front of you. He gripped your arm softly and turned you around, he slowly poured some of the paint down your back letting it cascade down your back. He presses himself against your back slightly, you can feel his breath tickling your neck as he began to place soft hot kisses along the side. He used one hand to rub the red all over your back, a gasp caught in your throat as his larges hands rubbed soft circles on your ass.

When he finished he turned you around to face him, he picked up a can of blue paint and handed it to you "now you do me" his voice soft but laced with something more sensual. You take the can and start to smear blue all over his body, trying desperately to avoid his intimate areas as best as possible even if it was staring right at you. Once he was blue from the neck down he gently took your hand and brought you down to the paper on the floor. "Lay back, darling," he instructed playfully "we're gonna roll around a bit" he chuckles before rolling on top of you, his arms wrapped around your body as he goes in for a kiss.

Things escalated quickly from there, paint began to adorn the paper as you two made love. Shades of blue and red mixed together leaving streaks of purple behind, hand prints of different colors could be seen throughout the paper. Moans filled the studio, there was also the occasional sound of paper ripping when things became too intense. When it was all said and done, Benedict framed the work and even put it up in a gallery. People always asked how he created such an abstract piece of art, he came up with a story of how he just started throwing paint at the canvas. Only you and him ever knew the truth.

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jarofstyles · 2 months

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Illicit 9

Hello my loves... we are nearing the end of the main Illicit story, but we will have tons of extra one shots for them. Flashbacks, memories, looks into the future etc. We have one more part left for the main series, but here is an intense part... :-)

WC- 4.8k

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Illicit Masterlist

Warnings- home break in, weapons, guns, knives, injuries, stabbing, mean harry, crazy Katherine, hospital/medical scene and mention of treatment, stitches, talk of concussions and wounds...

————-

It was too quiet.

Harry arrived home, paper bag in hand but the entire way up there had been unease in his stomach. Something wasn’t right and he had felt it in his gut.

He’d gotten word that Katherine had been spotted a few streets over just a few days prior and he knew he’d been on edge when the cops had said they’d tried to follow but she’d gone to the wind again. It unsettled him to know she was seen outside the coffee shop Y/N frequented, more than anything. He’d upped security again, but when he entered the penthouse he couldn’t see the guard supposedly meant to be in the foyer. His stomach dropped, hand dropping to his waistband to feel for the gun he had stuffed in there since she had gotten back.

It was insane to him. How a deal had been so dumb, but made into such a big deal that he had to worry about the safety of his home and his lover. That a wannabe socialite had managed to fuck with him just because he didn’t want her. He’d never led her on, making sure to be as brutally honest as possible, but it seemed like that didn’t matter when she was disturbed.

It was stiffly quiet in the house but when he stood still and listened he could hear the classical music drifting from up the stairs. The unusual chill settled down his spine as he tiptoed across the foyer- only to be stopped in his tracks.

The guard was knocked clean out on the floor. Eyes closed, gun across the room and blood trickling from the side of his head. A cleaning cart was parked by the edge of the stairs, making his hackles rise and stomach sink. He knew exactly how she had gotten into the place, and she was a lot crazier than he expected. Of course she would pull this sort of desperate thing, he’d half expected it, but he’d been so hopeful that it would happen at his job. Somewhere his love wasn’t around to bear witness to. She’d been so stressed, and he had failed to keep her safe. Y/N was home. He knew she was, he’d texted her not even an hour and half prior to confirm he’d bring home the bagels she wanted. The paper bag he had carefully set down, weapon drawn as he crouched down to take the pulse of the guard.

It was there. He was alive, just unconscious- thank god. Harry didn’t want anyone to die on his dime. He didn't have time to waste, taking his phone out and hurriedly typing the SOS signal into the message system to the other guards along with telling them to be as quiet as humanly possible coming inside.

He tried to be silent as he scaled the steps, holding his weapon out in front of him. If this was indeed Katherine or someone who had sent her? Who knew what they had on them. What state they’d be in. He could only pray that Y/N was unscathed, that she’d target him and him alone. It was his fault, after all.

This was what he had been afraid of since Katherine had disappeared. Obviously in order to break and enter along with taking intimate photos of people in their own home, there had to be something wrong with her- but he had hoped that maybe Y/N’s shiny optimism had been correct, that she’d gone away to lick her wounds and would restart somewhere else. He should have known she wouldn’t go down that easy. The woman had gone through so much effort in order to really sell the idea that she was in a relationship with Harry despite his uninterested gaze, barely looking at her- let alone touch. She had seen him as her ticket up in the society she was desperate to be the queen bee of and Harry had been the perfect goal she had thought she acquired.

Of course when it came tumbling down she would lose it. The difference between Harry and his lover is that he didn’t have any empathy for her. While Y/N may frown and empathize with the fact she had been stripped of everything, Harry was pleased. She’d been a thorn in his side for ages, always clingy and managed to be a true annoyance for him. She was entitled, bratty, vapid, loud, desperate for approval and obsessed with validation. Everything he disliked rolled into one. She had fucked around with his business and wasted his time, not to mention the fact that Harry had resentment over her being unwilling to cut the deal so he could be with Y/N in an easier way. He’d brave any storm for her, of course he would, but he’d prefer smooth roads rather than bumpy ones.

His heart pounded in his chest so hard it hurt, mouth dry and rage boiling in his stomach as he got up to the second floor where the music got louder. Of course, the one room with the door open a smidge was his office. He couldn’t see or hear Y/N, but he couldn’t chance opening another door when he was a shadow pass under the open door. The closer he got, though, he could hear mumbling under the music.

“You really didn’t need to tie me up.” Y/N. He could hear her now, the tiniest wave of relief washing over him knowing the was awake, talking.

“I really did.” The sneer belonged to her. To Katherine. His spine stiffened as he tried to be as silent as possible, keeping his breathing as even as he could as he slowly approached his office. “You’re a snake. Taking people’s boyfriends from under their noses. Homewrecker.” The woman hissed like a snake, Harry’s stomach rolling as he heard the sharp sound of a slap. There was nothing else said for a moment, making Katherine growl in rage.

“God, you disgust me. I can’t believe you were the one to steal him away from me. You're no one.” Her voice sounded a bit more unhinged as he listened to it, hearing pacing in the room. He braved a glance in, the crazy woman’s back to him as she paced in front of Y/N. His heart hurt as he saw blood smeared on her cheek and her hair was messy, falling mostly out of the messy bun she had styled. “You don’t have any reason to date a man like him. What can you offer him? Hm? You’ve got no assets besides your family’s money, and that’s pathetic in comparison to both his and mine. You don’t have any appeal to pop culture. You just… what? Make your stupid, ugly art? How do you think you’re going to keep him?”

“I love him.” Y/N said softly, trying not to lose her cool. “I’d love him if he was bankrupt tomorrow. I’d love him if he was a mechanic, a farmer, a pop star, if he was a stripper. I don’t care too much about his money. He’s got plenty because he’s a good worker but, when he comes home…” She frowned. “When he comes home, he likes tea because he drinks coffee all day at work. He likes his house shoes and would wear them all the time if it was fashionable. He takes cold plunges often, he likes broccoli but not cauliflower. He has a tense neck and pretends its fine but falls asleep when I massage it. I offer him stability, Katherine.” Y/N wasn’t being rude, but talking to her with an even tone. “You have to understand that my money, my social power means nothing to me. Harry has someone who he can rely on to take care of him when he’s sick, to be honest and vulnerable with. Not someone who calls paparazzi for a surprise ambush. If you paid a lick of attention to him, you’d know he hates cameras. Despises having his photo taken most of the time. He wasn’t the man for you, but there are a lot of men who would love to be with you.”

“Stop fucking pandering to me.” Katherine hissed again, striking Y/N again on her cheek. It was too much for him, watching her head snap to the side and the ring on Katherine’s hand tear at the skin near her lip. “You don’t know anything! You stole him from me. He was going to give in! He was going to love me!”

“No I wasn’t.” Harry held his gun out in front of him, kicking the door open as he looked at them with eyes darker than either woman had ever seen them. He was seething, rage visible on his form. There was no doubt about it. “I was never going to love you. I was never going to give in, you are just fucking insane.” His disdain was visible on his face but he could see that Y/N was tied up, blood on her face making his stomach hurt. She was going to have a swollen eye from the hit on her right cheek, the hit having cut her right underneath it.

Harry had never felt more livid in his life.

The relief on her face was the only thing that settled him slightly, glad that she still trusted him despite the fact he was the reason she was in the situation to begin with.

“Why are you pointing a gun at me?” Katherine was quick to show the knife she had, approaching Y/N until he aimed the weapon a few inches from her feet and let off a warning shot. It punctured a splintered hole on the bottom of his desk but it made the both of them scream, Katherine scrambling away but still holding the knife up- as if it was going to intimidate him.

“Because you’re psychotic, because you’ve tied my woman up, you’ve broken into my house a number of times and you just don’t seem to be getting the fucking hint. Pick a number.” He grunted. The smell of the residue the shot had left making his throat tight, but he didn’t care. The approach was slow, the whole idea to get her away from Y/N. “I’m the one you’re mad at. Why the fuck are you here, hurting her? Think she stole you away from you when I’ve never belonged to you in the first place. I’ve always been hers.” He sneered, moving his body in front of Y/N’s. At least there was a barrier now.

“No!” The growl that left her was a bit chilling. She sounded possessed, huffing and puffing as she pointed the knife at him. “You were mine! You signed the contract and you had to take me on dates. You had to have liked me. We had sex!” The crazed tone to her voice returned with a fierceness, making him wonder just how far she was willing to take this. “We were the power couple, you were falling in love with me and she ruined it!” There was pure hatred in her crazed eyes as she tried to catch a glance at his girlfriend.

“No. Look at me, not at her.” He barked. “I’m telling you now, I didn’t want to date you. I’ve told you this countless times. I have never wanted you, the only reason people called us an it couple is because you were pathetic and lied about me buying you gifts and sending you flowers that you bought yourself and hung all over me like a desperate bitch when I was forced to be out in public with you. The sex was subpar at best, you sounded like a dying fucking cat and there’s a reason I didn’t want to look at you during.” Yeah, he was being a dick, but he didn’t care. She needed to get it through her thick skull. “Y/N is and always has been the love of my life since I met her. If I knew her before being offered the contract you’d never have gotten a breath of my air. But that was because of me and me alone. I never wanted you, and I’m the one you should be angry at.” No matter how desperately he wanted to turn around and check on Y/N when he heard her sniffling behind him, no matter how panicked he felt internally and how bad his heart hurt, he kept his eye on the danger.

“You’re lying!” She screeched, trying to lunge at him but he aimed to the side and shot again- this time into the wall. As much as he wanted her to suffer, Harry didn’t like the idea of Y/N being here and witnessing something extremely violent. He wanted Katherine to rot in jail, wanted her to go insane all alone. He didn’t feel like hiring someone to scrub the floors and his carpet either. “What the fuck! Are you trying to kill me?” Her face had paled as she turned to look at the bullet lodged into the wall.

“I should, but I won’t. You invaded my home multiple times, put hands on my woman, caused emotional and physical distress. Tried to fucking hide from police and your father alike because you knew I was going to destroy you. I don’t know how you’ve turned it into some delusion, thinking that if you hurt Y/N that I’d somehow want you but I never have. I never will. I want to see you rot behind bars, miserable. A bullet in you would be an easy way out.” Maybe Harry was…. Slightly crazy as well. But he didn’t run around kidnapping people, breaking in places, and he sure as hell didn’t waste his time trying to humiliate himself over someone who clearly didn’t want him and never had. “For every fucking scratch, bruise, and tear that comes from her, I’m going to pour more and more money onto the lawyers that will get you the longest possible sentence. I know you’ll do terribly there, and that’s what I’m looking forward to.” His own evil smirk rose to his lips as he heard the guards enter the room, more footsteps following up and the police announcing their presence. “You are nothing to me, you never have been. Now I’m going to make sure you pay for the shit you did. I know she’s nicer than I am, but I disagree.” He hissed. “Hope you find a lover in prison, because that’s the only hope you have now.”

Harry sort of expected it, but he hadn’t expected the quickness. Katherine screamed in rage, lunging at him and slicing the side of his arm and shirt with the blade. He barely recognized the pain, more focused on yanking her knife out of her hand to throw to the side before handling arms and forcing her to the floor. Her body thrashed, screeching out insults as the guards came in quickly, taking over and keeping her restrained as they clipped handcuffs on her. She spit and kicked, looking like a rabid animal as she somehow called out for Harry to help her as they lifted her up to carry her out of the room.

“Harr-Harry!” Y/N’s voice sobbed as he turned to her again, finding one of the other guards cutting the rope off of her. Her teary eyes looked towards his now blood soaked shirt and jacket, shaky hands gently grabbing it and pulling the latter off of his form. “Oh my god, are you okay? She stabbed you!” Her breathing was frantic and he could feel her trembling as she grabbed the other side of the jacket and applied pressure to the wound. He didn’t feel the pain quite yet, adrenaline still going strong. All he could focus on was her own injuries. “Can someone call an ambulance? Please?” She choked on her sob. “For him and f-for.. She knocked him out downstairs, I heard it. I hope he’s okay, we… Please?” She pleaded to the guard who nodded with his phone to his ear already.

“Hey… I’m okay.” He whispered to her, his uninjured hand reaching up to hold her chin. “I’m okay, love. S’a scrape. Promise. I’m completely fine. I’m worried about you.” His face was full of that concern, scanning over her injuries. Seeing them up closer made his stomach turn, almost like he was about to be sick all over himself. “M’sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry.” His eyes burned. “I promised she wouldn’t hurt you. And now you’re all bloody.” There were a few marks and he wondered how many times she had slapped Y/N around. One scrape on her forehead that was bleeding a lot more than the face ones, bruising already forming around her eye. “Where else are you hurt? What happened?” He pulled her into his form, ignoring any warning about being careful with his arm as she still tried to apply the pressure.

“I’m fine. She- she hit me with a book, back of the head to stun me. My vision went wonky and I blacked out a little, came to all tied up. I heard her coming upstairs after the stuff downstairs but I wasn’t quick enough to lock the door.” She sniffled, feeling his lips press against the top of her head. His shirt was ruined, bloodied and torn at the arm but he didn’t give a shit about the clothing. He wanted her as close as possible.

“Fuck.” Voice wrecked, he held her tight. “Okay. We need to get you checked out first, please. You probably have a concussion or worse. I need to… I’m not letting you out of my sight.” This was going to be an issue later on down the line, but he didn’t care. He was going to exercise every bit of his money privilege to make sure Y/N got the best care possible and every single thing was taken care of. He failed her once, and he wasn’t going to do it again.

—----

Harry had fought to ride in the same ambulance as her. He’d fought hard, cussing and snarling but ultimately was forced to be calmed by her gentle words and the contact they had at the hospital insuring that they’d be in the same ER room together. The man was terrified to leave her side and Y/N could see it. Despite his cold and hard look, his anger coating his words, the venom in his tone, it was all out of fear. It’s how his anxiety manifested when it came to her and she knew all too well.

So he’d given in and gave her a slow kiss, promising that he wasn’t going to let anything else happen to her- all before threatening the poor EMS pair in charge of Y/N with their jobs if something happened to her. She had to make sure they knew they would be fine as soon as the door closed and Harry was wrangled onto his own ride, which she could hear grumbling and complaining as he did so. Y/N loved her grumpy man so much.

He arrived first to the hospital which meant he had demanded to wait for her to be wheeled in, making sure she went first. There was triage, which meant a knife wound would be looked at first, but he barely flinched as they sat in their room with the door closed, two separate teams looking over their injuries. A set of the guards were outside said doors, taking updates about the one who had been injured on the job and ensuring no one else got in or out other than approved medical staff. Harry wasn’t stupid and he knew the media would catch wind as soon as it leaked. It couldn’t be too long now considering he knew Katherine must have continued her tantrum all the way down to the police cruiser.

“Is she okay? What’s going on?” He asked across the room, trying to look over shoulders to see the doctor looking over her injuries. The frantic beat of his heart had been a slight cause of concern when they took his vitals but then again, who would be calm after a situation like that?

“Mr. Styles, please stay still so we can properly stitch.” The poor woman working on him most definitely had her work cut out for her and he felt bad only slightly considering he liked to be a good patient, but Y/N was more important to him than the stupid fucking stitches. Luckily it really had only been a cut. There wasn’t a lot of muscle damage, and it was even on his arm without tattoos. If he was going to be in a knife fight this was the luckiest outcome someone could hope for.

“Harry, please.” Y/N shot him a tired look. “I’m okay. I promise. Let them stitch you up so you have the best chance at healing. It would make me happy.”

“My goal is to always make you happy, my love, but I know it’s serious when you black out.” He stressed. For his own good, he should have been calming down but it was hard to when they hadn’t told him much yet.

“Can I disclose to Mr. Styles of your condition, Miss?” The doctor asked, which normally would have made him happy to know he respected her privacy- but his blood pressure was rising by the second with the lack of information.

“Of course.” She murmured, giving him a softer look as one of the nurses began to clean the cuts on her face. Even still, she was his beautiful girl. He was going to push for the most harsh charges he could for that evil bitch. Y/N didn’t deserve that. He definitely did.

“Well, the cuts are going to heal just fine. They don’t need stitching as they aren’t too deep, a few are just scrapes. The one on her head was a bit deeper but headwounds tend to bleed more, so it looked worse than met the eye. Shouldn’t scar badly, if at all.” He explained, making a bit of relief flood his body. “However, I do believe she has a concussion. We were discussing sending her for a CAT scan to ensure there was no further damage, but I don’t think there will be. She’s a lucky girl.”

Harry bristled, lip curling in a snarl. “Lucky? Having your home invaded and being tied up and abused is lucky to you? Who the fuck are you to say-” His defense was calmed by a call of his name, a frown on his love’s face as she shook her head.

“H, you know he didn’t mean it that way.” She looked towards the paling doctor. Harry’s bark was very mean, and his bite was meaner. The fear was understood but she would make sure her lover relaxed. “He means that for what could have happened, it’s good. Just like how you could have been stabbed in a worse place. He isn’t minimizing what happened to me.” It was difficult because she couldn’t physically touch him with them being in separate hospital beds across the private room, but the words had the desired effect.

His eyes narrowed at the doctor as he set his jaw, deciding to leave it for her sake. “Get her in there immediately. I want every person qualified to look at the results to ensure there's nothing missed.” Harry didn’t swing his name and money around in this sort of setting too often, but it seemed necessary. “Or I’ll make sure my father pulls funding for those very nice golf retreats for the staff.” There was a Styles wing here, after all. There had been for years.

“Y-Yes, I’m going to call over to them now. I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Make it fast.” He snipped, eyes only softening when he left the room and he locked gazes with Y/N. The man had no clue how he was going to possibly make it up to her. It was extremely rare that he ever felt genuine, punch in the gut guilt, but seeing her smile at him only made it worse. How was she not angry at him right now? He had gotten a human angel, that’s for sure.

How would he make her feel safe in their penthouse again? He knew it wasn’t a forever home but it was the first place they’d cemented themselves as a couple. He was going to do anything he could to ensure she felt safe again, though he knew it was probably going to be a while after Katherine was locked up. He’d be looking at a new building regardless after finding out that she had been cleared by the building security to go in the back entrance. She’d apparently been deranged enough to find out the shit changes and hopped into what had to be the only unmonitored elevator ride that day. She had a valid key card to get into their place and had snuck up on the in house guard, making her efforts very apparent. Katherine been plotting for a while.

As soon as his stitches were finished and they gave him some pain relief, he walked over to her bed and sat himself down in it. There was no semblance of personal space, frown on his face as his fingers traced over the gauze on her forehead cut. She looked sleepy, his poor girl, but they’d still have to wait for the tests on her and they wanted to monitor his heart rate for a bit. Their stay wasn’t over quite yet.

“M’gonna get us out of here for a bit, as soon as you’re okay to travel.” He whispered, closing them into their own private little bubble. They finally had a minute alone. “Wherever you want to go. Think on it.” He tipped her chin up to place a few kisses to her lips, needing the comfort for his own sake. A shaky exhale made him pull back, eyes burning as she lifted her hand to cup his cheek, thumb brushing the hot skin.

“Anywhere with you.” Y/N smiled, her own pain meds kicking in. “Probably can’t go on a plane with a concussion for a bit. I dunno, m’not the doctor. But… maybe we can go to the lake house for a bit?” Laying on her side, she scooted over so Harry could properly be comfortable on the small hospital bed. It wasn’t built for two but they made it work. “It’ll be a bit of a drive but I think it would be nice to get out of the city for a little bit. Just spend time with you alone.”

In all honesty, Harry knew he’d sort of dropped the ball with Y/N. He hadn’t given her every single thing she deserved and he’d been limited by the stupid deal. Now that it was over, though? He wasn’t going to pull back any of the things he wanted to do. She deserved a vacation, his uninterrupted attention and a true break from work. As much of a workaholic as he was, the only thing he loved more was the girl in his arm. If he didn’t think they’d scold him for popping stitches he would use both of them to tug her on top of him.

“I think that’s a lovely idea, my love.” He approved, the softest smile he could mange painting his lips. “I know things are going to be a bit hectic for a while but m’gonna take care of you. S’all I want to do. You’re my favorite person and… I know I haven’t been the easiest person to be with. Know I failed at keeping you safe, but m’a bit too selfish to let you go.” His eyes shined, trying not to let too much emotion out in here. “I’m going to spend every day for the rest of my life taking care of you and making sure every bit of your body is safe. You’re the most important thing in the world to me. My heart.” The soft croon was rewarded with her shy smile, a little peck placed to his lips as a secondary bonus. Butterflies were the last sensation the grump of a man ever expected to feel in his life, but Y/N had lit up his life. “It’s a forever thing, you and me. Just have to wait and see.”

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thealtoduck · 4 months

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Sensitive

Jason Todd x Male Reader

Warnings: Superhero violence, attempted robbery, you don’t know Jason = Red Hood…

The Socialite and The Vigilante | Masterlist

Summary: After leaving a party someone attempts to rob you, which gives you a bit of a wake up call…

(A/n: Idk i just liked the idea of continuing the Jason x Silver St. Cloud’s son!Reader fic.)

——

Music and drunken slurred farewells followed you out of the party venue. You waved your friends goodbye as they got into their cars and made your way down the sidewalk texting your chauffeur where to pick you up. You put your phone back in your pocket and tightened your coat.

You decided to take a quick short cut through an alley way which would turn out to be a mistake. Next thing you know you felt someone roughly grab your shoulder, a man then punched you in the stomach and threw you to the ground, the man standing over you then pulled out a switchblade and pointed it towards you.

”Empty your pockets” the man demanded. You quickly did as told and with trembling hands brought out your phone and wallet. The man snatched them away from you and shoved them in his pocket and moved to run away.

But a thud came from further down the dark alley and moments later the man had been knocked out. A vigilante wearing a red helmet standing over his body, the vigilante collected what had been stolen from you from the man’s pocket and then made his way over to you.

”You alright?” a muffled voice came from beneath his helmet as he reached out a hand to help you up. ”Yeah, thank you” you said grabbing his hand, he helped you to your feet but didn’t let go. ”Your hand is bleeding” he said studying a small cut on your palm.

”It’s fine, i’ll clean it once i get home but thank you for saving me” you thanked him. ”Okay, stay safe” he said and gave you your wallet and phone and let you pass him. You quickly made your way out of the alley before more trouble could find you.

Your chauffeur pulled up beside you letting you get in the passenger seat. He then drove you back to your apartment. Once you entered you changed to a simple t-shirt and sweatpants. You went in to the bathroom and checked yourself over. You only had the cut on your hand and some minor scrapes on your right elbow. You cleaned them and then went to bed.

When you woke up you dragged yourself out of bed and to the kitchen where you started making some coffee. While you did there was a knock on the door. You made your way over and opened it revealing Jason Todd. ”Morning” he said.

”Hey Jason, what are you doing here?” you said giving him a quick hug. ”Suprise visit” he stated and handed you a paper bag. ”I got us some croissants” he stated. ”Thanks, come in, i’ll pour us some coffee” you said and Jason came inside.

”What happened to your hand?” he questioned as he took of his shoes and jacket. ”Oh that… this guy tried to mug me last night and one of Batman’s sidekicks saved me” you stated pouring two cups of coffee. ”Really, which one?” Jason said.

”I don’t know there’s too many…” you said and then tried ”Red… Helmet?”. Jason looked a bit taken aback and said ”I’m pretty sure it’s Red Hood”. ”Oh, then why is he wearing a helmet and not a hood…?” you countered, which left Jason at a loss for words as he took a sip of coffee.

”I don’t think i’d describe Red Hood as one of Batman’s sidekicks, i think he’s got his own thing going on” Jason stated as you gave Jason his croissant and then took a bite of your own. ”But he still wears the bat sign on his chest plate… so he kinda is” you added which left Jason silent again.

”Whatever” Jason said grumpily, eating part of his croissant. You ruffled Jason’s hair and saying teasingly ”Sorry if offended, Red Hood’s number one fan”. Jason smiled and wrapped and arm around your waist and uttred ”It’s okay”.

You sat down besides Jason and said ”Yesterday made me realise something too, i want take self defense classes, in case someone tries anything again which probably will happen cause this is Gotham”.

”Really… Is Y/n St. Clould gonna become a vigilante now?” Jason joked, you gave him a look and asked ”You don’t think i could do it?”. Jason didn’t know what the right answer would be here so he tried ”I-Uhm sure… but i don’t want you too because you could get hurt”.

”Good save” you said but added ”If you’re ever in danger though Jay, i would become a superhero so i can save you”. Jason smiled and said ”How about you stop by the manor later? I could teach you some boxing stuff?”.

”Sure” you answered and then realised and questioned ”Since when do you know boxing?”.

#jason todd x male reader #jason todd x male!reader #red hood x male reader #red hood x male!reader #batfam x male reader #batfamily x male reader #batfam x male!reader #dc x male reader #dc comics x male reader #male reader #x male!reader #x male reader

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tossawary · 5 months

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I've been rewatching "Batman: The Animated Series" and I'm finding it pretty entertaining, because I barely remember anything from it and so, though some of it has aged quite poorly, I keep being pleasantly surprised by many elements. I'd recommend it as a casual / background watch to anyone who is already a fan of Batman and his gallery of rogues. The show is very episodic, so it has a lot of one shot storylines, and it can be both quite silly and shockingly dark and serious.

The production design and overall vibe is really fun and funny, because Gotham City is apparently simultaneously experiencing the 1990s and the 1940s, and also every decade in between. Art deco is everywhere. I like the moody backgrounds painted on black paper. The tech is so chunky. This city is stuffed full of futurists, industrialists, socialites, gangsters, mad scientists, and supervillains. Nearly every classic Gotham rogue becomes a supervillain here because some greedy businessman screwed them over and they decided to take revenge into their own hands.

Because the episodes are focused on their own little stories, you meet a lot of the ordinary people of Gotham, and you get the vibe that there's a lot going on in this city. (It's just Bruce on his own most of the time in the beginning, with Alfred, because while Dick Grayson is Robin, he's already off at college and only occasionally comes back to visit.) The stakes can get high, but they can also be personal. One episode is about a thief who's made himself an invisibility suit, but the climax of the episode is him attempting to kidnap his daughter away from his ex-wife.

One of the most recent episodes I watched opened with the Joker being escorted into the rec room at Arkham and sitting down to watch the news. (He changes the channel away from the gardening show that Poison Ivy was watching and they nearly get into a fight about it.) The news promptly reveals that someone has just opened a brand new $300 million casino that they've themed after the Joker. His face is everywhere. The blackjack dealers are dressed like him. It's all in incredibly poor taste. The Joker is furious and immediately escapes to destroy this new luxury casino.

Of course, Bruce Wayne is there because it's a big social event. And upon the theme reveal, he immediately has Alfred drive over to bring him his Batman gear, because he's like, "Joker is definitely going to try to destroy this ugly casino." And I was like, "Sheesh, I know this is Gotham and it's obviously filled with a rich person social scene that is weird beyond my comprehension, but this is weird even for them! Building a Joker-themed casino is just asking for trouble!"

And then Batman investigates and finds out that the casino's construction bankrupted the owner, so the owner hastily themed it after the Joker so that the Joker would come and destroy it. The whole thing is someone attempting to commit insurance fraud via the Joker. Incredible.

#tossawary dc #bruce wayne #the joker #spoilers #long post

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nahoyasboyfriend · 11 days

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Burning desire

warnings: professor and student, fem!reader, shameless smut, creampie bc why not, choking (it's James what did you expect), readers a love(lust)struck loser who likes her teacher.

Word count: 4.8k

A/N: first time writing something on that more the 2k. This isn't proofread, but I hope it's to your liking. This is kinda old so it might be bad. Hope you enjoy!

You arrived fairly early on the first day. It wasn't really intentional—you live only a few blocks away and paranoid that you have somehow overslept, rushed to get ready. Thankfully you aren't too early for the door to be locked, just enough for the classroom to be mostly empty of students. There were two other people in the room, pulling paper and pencils out their bags and not paying you any mind. You make yourself comfortable in your seat—not too close but not painfully far from where the instructor will be—and follow in their example.

With nothing left to do, you pull out your phone to mindlessly scroll until class starts. In the midst of liking some random post, your phone buzzes—the low battery notification pops on the screen. You would forget to charge your phone last night. Sighing, you reach into your bag to grab your charger, sifting through the content of your bag only to find it not in there; you must've left it at home. Just great. After your phone dies, you have no other choice but to either look blankly at your desk or watch the few people here.

You find your eyes flitting across the room to them; it's not like you don't watch people when you're bored anyway.

When you've had your fill of observing, the door opens—it looks like your teacher has finally arrived. You watch the man get himself ready for the upcoming lecture; he’s busy arranging some paperwork so you take the time to ogle him shamelessly. He looks young, maybe around his early thirties. His hair is slicked down to perfection and he has a little pencil mustache—He is, admittedly, rather handsome.

You hadn't expected that. You weren't quite sure what your expectation was—probably thought he'd be some fourty-year old depressed asshole whose wife doesn’t love him. Yeah…that'd be the type of person who looks like they’d teach a course like this one.

Suddenly, he glances up, probably to check how many people had come in. Still, it scares the living daylights out of you—you rip your gaze away from him. Opting to snatch up your phone and pretend you have more interesting things to look at besides your teacher, you feel your face warm up when you still feel his eyes on you. The sound of his chair scraping the floor pulls everyone's attention to the front; he saunters over to the board and jots down his name with Expo marker.

“My name is Mr. March,” he declares with a smile. Oh fuck, he has a nice voice.

You don't pay much attention to the rest of his introduction, but you still enjoy the timbre of his voice. Instead, you go back to admiring his looks in a totally-not-creepy way. He looks like money-personified; the black vest, the white button-up underneath, and the pair of black pants are all crisp and obviously made with premium material. He even walks with a grace that most lack,talking in a manner like he is more of a socialite than a mere college professor.

More students start to flow in and by the time Mr. March is through with going over his expectations for the semester, everyone is seated and ready for class to start.

In the row ahead of you, a group of girls were quietly debating amongst themselves if he was single or not. You would've laughed if you weren't curious yourself. You spent the remainder of class staring at him without listening to a word that left his pretty mouth (later on you beat yourself up for not taking notes). His voice was hypnotic, each word sinking you deeper into whatever trance you were in. He was refined… elegant. Every movement looked calculated.

Honestly, he could be one of those old Hollywood stars. Face perfectly sculpted to be plastered on billboards; a smile born for posters. Briefly, you wondered if you were to go searching that you'd find him in a classical film.

Then, he's looking at you and the world stops—it shouldn't be anything mind-blowing because there's really nothing special about it, but still, you find yourself immobilized. His voice is syrupy, smooth, and mind-numbing. He clears his throat and your cheeks burn. He looks expectant, like he's waiting for something. He definitely asked you a question. Scrambling through your racing thoughts, you just stare dumbly at him, waiting for him to repeat whatever he had asked. He doesn't.

“I, er, don't know,” you mumble sheepishly. He quirks an eyebrow at that, painfully unimpressed. He doesn't say anything for what feels like an eternity and his silence suffocates you. The only sounds in the class were a few chuckles from other students. You shift in your seat.

“You would've known if you had listened to me,” he lightly scolds. You nod, hoping that'll be enough to show that you get his point. He furrows his brows, and he looks like he's about to push it further. Luckily, he takes mercy on you and simply repeats the initial question.

A few more giggles, and the class is back to normal. You'd think being publicly berated would be enough for you to learn your lesson, but it isn't. Because soon enough, his words are going in one ear and out the other—the words meld together into a pleasant hum in the background.

Before you know it, class is over. You bite your lip as you hurry to pack your bags, the shame from earlier returning like a punch to the gut. You don't dare look in his direction, avoiding eye contact at all costs. You scurry out the door, and thank the lord he's your only class of the day.

You let out a long-awaited sigh as you burst through your front door, haphazardly throwing your bag in the corner—you can finally decompress. You study until you feel like your head is about to burst to keep your thoughts off of him and the rather embarrassing way your first day ended.

It's been a few weeks since you got chastised for being an absent-minded idiot, and despite the embarrassment you can't bring yourself to be mad at him. Instead of anger, or even mild annoyance, all you feel is attraction. You try to deny it, bottle it up and push it to the back of your mind. Innocent fascination is what you label it. His passè charm and unconventional way of speaking is why you can't get him out of your head. That's the real reason all your thoughts lead back to him. Why at night you get struck with downright obscene visuals of him. You don't touch yourself— At least not in reality.

The you— you’ve conjured up in your head does, she touches him too. She fondles him in places you'll never see—let alone touch in real life. He says things to her that you'll never hear. He gradually seeps into your dreams, when that happens you wake up with damp underwear, and humiliation that settles deep in the crevices of your gut. It makes seeing him so much worse, but something about him captivates you.

You find yourself sneaking glances when you're convinced he isn't looking– It's the only thing you can't seem to stop– so you indulge. The only rule: don't get caught. And that sounds pretty easy to adhere to. Just don't look too long.

Simple, right?

Naively, you were confident you could do it. It worked for a little while. But at some point, you got complacent. Assured yourself you wouldn't get caught because you were doing so well. Your eyes meet in slow motion, or that's how it felt to you. In the middle of personal study time, so you had no real excuse. Neither of you break eye contact for a few more seconds, and he has a plain, almost bored expression on his face.

Ducking your head down, you stare at your blank paper. You don't pretend to write anything. It's pointless now. You’d been caught red-handed. You simply sit there, wallowing in your shame. That's become your favorite pastime lately. Deciding enough time has passed, you peek up. He's gone back to whatever he was writing and you decide that now is the time to actually write on your paper.

Class ends and you're packing up. You don't rush today, taking your time collecting your things.

“a word, please.”

You swallow dryly, cemented in place. Hesitantly, you peer up at him. His eyes bore deep into your soul like two black voids sucking you in. Growing impatient, he adds: “Yes, you. I'd like to speak to you.”

You dwandle your way to him. He doesn't rush you, at least not verbally, but by the look on his face your torpor was getting under his skin. You pick up the pace. Finally, you reach his desk. “You, um, wanted to speak to me?”

“Mm,” He clasps his hands, sitting them on his desk. “I called you here to discuss your grades,” he says, “you're a clever girl, we're both aware of that. You could be doing so much better, but there's something distracting you, correct?”

For a brief moment thick, uncomfortable silence falls over the two of you. You rummage through your brain for explanations. How could you tell him that he's the distraction? That all your troubles were somehow connected to him.

“I, uh, haven't been keeping up with my studies lately,” you stammer, “My sleep schedule has been kinda messed up,” Because of you. “So, when I get that in order I should be good.”

He frowns, narrowing his eyes slightly; he doesn't look convinced. Standing up, he makes his way to you. He stops in front of you, looming over you like a shadow. He's of average height, but you still have to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. You’re struck by the fragrance of his cologne— god, he smells amazing. He places a hand on your shoulder, you tense up almost immediately. His hand is so big. Shaking those thoughts away, you nervously await his next word.

“If you don't compose yourself, I fear I may have to take on a more… hands-on approach.” he tuts, giving your shoulder a nearly painful squeeze. You blink, dazed. You swallow once more, desperately trying to wet your throat. “I understand,” you utter, voice airy like you'd been running a marathon. You feel dizzy. His words buzzing in your head like tv static.

You honestly just want to get out of here, and wait out the heat that’s building between your thighs. Pleased with your response, he smiles at you. A lazy, feline grin, and you can see the slight indents of his dimples.

“Wonderful!” He replies, gleefully. His hand lets go of your shoulder. Your skin is still throbbing from the contact. “Well, then, you're dismissed.”

When you make it inside, you're panting, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat from speed walking all the way home. You let your bag drop onto the floor, unconcerned with where it lands. You sigh, exasperated. There's a pressure in your chest, or it could be described as a warmth. Or an ache. Or all those things at once. You weren't sure— nor do you really care. All you know is his words keep replaying in your head, muddling all your thoughts.

You practically run to your bed, exhausted from your own thoughts. Before you can attempt to stop it, he's invading your head for the umpteenth time. You groan. That warmth in your chest begins trickling down, pooling in the space between your legs. You can still feel his hand on your shoulder, the dull ache of the squeeze. Flipping onto your back, you stare vacantly at the ceiling. You could only deny yourself for so long. Placing your feet flat on the mattress, your hand slips past the band of your panties. A little relaxation couldn't hurt. Especially with how pent up you've been, It was well deserved.

You let out a breathless little whine when your fingers brush your swollen clit. God, you needed this. You run a finger through your folds, the slick sticks your skin. Using your wetness to ease the friction, you rub slow circles on your clit, and your eyes flutter shut. You could see him on the back of your eyelids. Your hips buck up pathetically into your own hand. You're leaking, cunt quivering around nothing.

You could still smell him. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating, even now it lingered in your nose. Rich and velvety. Something that wealthy decadents would wear just to let you know you'd never be able to afford it. You push a finger in, various curses fall from your lips. His hands– my god, his hands. They're so big. So strong. You slip another finger in. The heel of your hand grinds against your clit, and the feeling sends chills down your spine.

You're a writhing, squirming mess on your bed. The squelching from your fingers thrusting into your dripping cunt has the tips of your ears burning, but you don't stop. You picture him, his fingers knuckle deep in your cunt, methodically fucking them in and out of you. You imagine him curling them inside of you, and you mimic the motion in real life, sending another rush of slick gushing out. You think about the sweet purr of his voice, urging you on— instructing you to cum, so you do. You come hard, mumbling his name like he's your new god.

The shower after is long and quiet, you spend a good portion letting the water run down your body to soothe your tense muscles. You don't play any music or hum anything. You’re barely thinking. Your only goal is to get in bed and pass out. And when you finish, that's exactly what you do. You snuggle into your covers and as soon as your head hits the pillow you're out.

Your eyelids slowly peel apart; heavy. Your entire body feels like a bag of rocks. You lie there, taking long, drawn-out blinks. There's a strange peacefulness in the air. None of the usual worry that fills your head, no noise besides your soft breaths, and the sweet song of the birds outside. You prop yourself up, reaching out to your bedside table to grab your phone. With a click your phone turns on, the sudden light blinds you. Blinking away the blurriness, your eyes begin to focus on the big white numbers: 11:25

You stumble out of the comfort of your bed. You have five minutes to get ready and head out the door. Running to your dresser, you pull out some clothes to wear. How you manage the sleep through your numerous alarms was beyond you, but nevertheless that didn't turn back time. You shuffle into your bra, throw the shirt over your head, and jump into a pair of pants. You're able to get the important parts of your morning routine done. Besides a few things like washing your face and properly brushing your hair. Giving yourself a once-over, you decide you don't look too bad. Just a little lazier than normal but casual enough. Sighing, you depart to class.

Standing in front of the door, you take a deep breath, straighten your back. You can already see his face, his mouth pressed into a hard line. A flicker of disappointment in his eyes. You knock on the door, and wait for it to open. When you hear a soft click, you push the door open, hurrying to your seat. When you sit down, you glance at him and he's already looking at you. Face devoid of any signs of what he's feeling. You pluck the needed supplies out of your bag, and he continues the lesson.

The class goes excruciatingly slow. Focusing seems near impossible, so you resort to scribbling down anything you deem important without actually listening to what he's saying. Which you can only hope doesn't bite you in the ass too much in the future. The class comes to a close, and before you can even think about leaving he's calling your name. You wince, forcing yourself to walk to his desk. He's definitely gonna tear a chunk out of you.

“Sir?” You mutter, ashamed.

“You were late,” he states, plain and simple. His words linger heavily in the air.

“I, um, slept in. I apologize, it was a mistake on my part.” You sputter, fidgeting with the strap of your bag. He lifted his head, eyes piercing into you. Your mouth squeezes shut.

“you slept in,” he echoes, empty. With a stern tone, he adds, “Excuses will not be tolerated, especially after I gave an explicit warning to get yourself together.”

You feel queasy, like your stomach rolling in on itself. You don't know what to say. Your heartbeat pounds in your head, rattles your ribcage, reverberating through your entire body. You don't know what to do that doesn't make you seem more of a fool than you already are. So you say the only thing that's worked for you so far.

“I know, sir. I am truly sorry.”

“Indeed you are,” he purrs as inches closer to you, fingertips dragging against his desk. His intense eye contact frightens you, makes you feel like he'd put a giant red target on you: open prey. A strange, uncomfortable heat flushing your body, feels akin to little fires starting from the tips of your fingers. He stops in front of you, closer than you would deem comfortable, but you couldn't move— something willing you to stay right where you are. A need.

You feel trapped, or rather, you're paralyzed. Even though there's nothing constraining you, and all you have to do is walk out the room. You can't move; his eyes immobilize you, demanding that you stay. Reluctantly, you obey. He settles a hand on your shoulder, “yet, you're not sorry enough to listen.” Before you can defend yourself, his hand slowly starts traveling up, gently wrapping around your neck. You notice, but oddly enough, you choose not to question it. “So, I must ask, what's distracting you? And there's no need for any falsities, my dear.”

You freeze, eyes wide. Dumb and glassy, fawn-like. “it’s- it's really not important, and I promise that I'll straighten out my behavior. It's been a rough week.” you murmur, the tips of your ears burning.

He frowns, hand flexing around your neck. You don't know if it was intentional, but it gets his point across all the same. “Like I said, there's no reason for further deception.”

Sucking in a deep breath and closing your eyes, you mentally agree he's right and getting it off your chest could probably do you some good. “It's you. You're my problem– or my distraction, in your words.”

He doesn't look fazed. In fact, he looks like he knew before you even opened your mouth. He looked like he could tell you every thought you had verbatim. After a moment of silence, he inquires, “how long?”

Innocuous, but still you shy away from him. Your mouth squeezes shut, and your head is about to turn to the side, but he's capturing your face in his hand— forcing you to look at him. His grip is firm, nails lightly digging into the fat of your cheeks.

“since the, um, first day” you murmur, skittish.

He gives a slight nod. He knew you were attracted to him, but he had ignored it. Flicking off your open desire as a fleeting crush. That, like the other girls, you'd move on. Unfortunately for the two of you, you never did. But day after day of seeing the desperation mixed with adoration swirling around in your big, bright doe eyes, even though he would never speak it aloud, stirred something in him. And now, you’re in front of him with your heart in your hands. that pathetic, helpless look on your pretty face. it set something off within him, a spark of heat he couldn't ignore.

“Is that so…” he responds, casually. Offhandedly, even. He’s pensive, looking at you with a blank face. He’s always withdrawn, always hard to read. You never can guess what's going on in that head of his, and that was something you admired. But right now, you wished you could crack open his skull and hear his thoughts for yourself.

The tension is tangible, turning the air thick. You wish he would do anything to rid you of this horrible ache in your chest. Shoo away the sinking pit in your stomach that grows the more his silence drags on.

“Do something,” you whisper. You don't know what to expect. You can't begin to predict what he'll do with your confession, but you figure he'll send you off with a broken heart and your tail tucked between your legs.

His face scrunched up, and then it straightened out. turning eerily calm with a strange sense of resolve. unceremoniously, his mouth crashes into yours. hungry and ravenous. For a second, you didn't reciprocate. you were stupefied by his forwardness. you had expected many things but not a kiss. After gaining your bearings, you carefully carefully began to kiss back, following the pace he had set. His teeth sink into your bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. you whimper, and he lets out a low groan, lapping away the metallic liquid.

your heart hammered in the confines of your chest. you were high off the taste of him. a mixture of mint and nicotine. you wanted more, you wanted everything he was willing to dish out. your hands gripped at the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer. it was so surreal— his warmth, his scent, his lips on yours. it was something you couldn't let fall through your fingers. Then without pulling away, he’s spinning you around, backing you up until you're perched on the edge of his desk.

Your mind is misty. your vision blurs at the edges like a gossamer film is covering it. If it's from the lack of oxygen, or how incredibly unreal the situation is still impossible to ascertain. He pulls away to attach himself to your neck, leaving feverish open mouth kisses on your neck. You can feel him inhaling against your skin, breathing you in. Without warning, he digs his teeth into the thin skin between the junction of your neck and shoulder.

He laves his tongue over the indents left behind, and you take it as a silent apology. James squeezes your thigh, massaging it. You’re soft to the touch, pliant. Almost pillowy. His hand snakes down, down, down. Slipping into your pants, past the band of your panties. His fingers brush against your sensitive clit, and you spread your legs further to give him more room. You're leaking over the pads of his fingers, and he dips lower, collecting it. He smears your wetness on your aching bud in tight, deliberate circles. You let out soft pants, rolling your hips against him, desperate for more contact.

“More,” you whine. A small pout tugging at your plump lips.

“you want more, hm? Such a greedy little thing you are,” he croons, giving your clit a mean pinch. It yanks a squeal out of you. The melange of pain and pleasure confuses you, entices you. You give him a meek nod tugging your bottom lip between your teeth. He plunges two fingers in your needy cunt, and your back curves. He hums, pumping his fingers into you with a steady pace. He rolls your aching nub beneath his thumb. It's methodical, automatic. Downright robotic the way he splits you apart on his nimble fingers. He touches you like he's known you for an entire lifetime, strumming your chords like he knows exactly what to do to make you cry out.

His fingers are long, slender, and so, so pretty. And god does he know how to use them. With pinpoint precision, he's curling his fingers inside of you, pressing that spot inside of you that has your eyes rolling into your skull. You're gushing around him, and the squelch of it is obscene. It's embarrassing how you fall apart merely from his deft fingers. Nonsensical babbles fall from your mouth, too high off pleasure to make sense, but he doesn't seem to mind. Soon, a coil begins to tighten in your groin. A buzzing heat in your lower region. It's undeniable, inescapable.

“M gonna cum, don't stop– please, please, please.” You babble, your fingers gripping for purchase on his desk.

Frissions of pleasure shoot through your body like lightning. Your mouth falls agape, and you tilt your head back. The coil snaps, and you quickly begin to unravel around his fingers. He eases you through it, doesn't stop until you've stopped trembling, and then he's sliding you off the desk. He turns you around, and places a sizable hand on your back, bending you over the table. He hastily tugs your pants down, leaving them bunched up at your mid-thigh.

You feel the tip of his cock probe your entrance. Nervous, you press your warm face against the varnished wood, letting a wave of relief wash over you from its coldness. He doesn't give you time to prepare before he's bottoming out. The stretch burns, a dull incessant ache. You don't realize you're gritting your teeth until the feeling ebbs and shifts into velvety pleasure. To your surprise, his thrusts are a measured pace, rhythmic. Maybe he was taking mercy on you, but he quickly loses the pace for something rougher. Fast and hard, thrusts that jolt you forward, edge of the desk biting into your hips.

“is this what you wanted? to be bent over my desk like the needy little harlot you are.” you let out a high pitched whine at that, cunt fluttering around his cock. he was so crude, so incredibly mean, but he was right. he's so right that it's embarrassing.

you feel a vascular hand wrap around your neck, tugging you into an arch. “say it, tell me this is what you wanted,” he grunts, hips snapping hard against yours, it was downright painful.

“this is what I wanted,” you cry out, nodding your head. “good girl,” he utters, his tone ominously dark. it sent chills racing down your spine. his other hand wraps around your neck, and he begins to squeeze. at first, it's harmless, it's not tight enough to do damage, just applying pressure. it wasn't until he didn't stop squeezing that you started to panic. eyes going wide and glassy, your hands tried to peel his hands away to no avail. so you tried to scratch at them, in hopes that he'd finally pull away. but he didn't budge. your lungs were starting to burn, your thoughts getting increasingly fuzzy.

despite all of this, he didn't stop his ruthless thrusting. your cunt clamped down on his cock, squeezing him for all that he's worth. your vision starts to blur, everything begins melting together. your hands drop back down to the desk, and you can feel yourself going limp in his hold. you couldn't tell if you were simply going to pass out, or if you close your eyes you're going to die, but you didn't want to find out.

a dribble of drool slinks down your chin. your head is throbbing. there's a dull ringing in your ears, and it's becoming harder to keep yourself awake or alive. feeling your eyes closing on their own, you felt stinging tears rushing down your cheeks. then, you felt it, a sudden warmth in your lower region. that familiar ache in your womb. a few more harsh thrusts, and you were leaking all over his cock. he followed suit, thick ropes of cum fill you up soon after. thankfully, he let go. you thought he was going to kill you for a second.

gasping, you lurched forward, letting yourself rest on the desk. your head was spinning and your legs felt like jello. you didn't speak, just laid there. It takes you a minute to collect yourself. Especially after fearing for your life. You were pretty sure he was going to kill you. He pulls out of your wordlessly, slipping his cock back in his pants. Once you convince yourself that you're okay, you pull up your pants. The feeling of his cum gushing out of you is kinda gross but you can deal. You're going straight home anyway so you can wash it off when you get there.

He doesn't say anything until you're walking away, "I hope to see you again tomorrow. We still have much to improve after class."

The implications are enough to have you red-faced and very excited for the day to come. You don't know why you're still fooling around with him. Despite the fact that he may be dangerous. It entices you further like the dumb little girl you are. So, like an idiot, you give a coy smile over your shoulder, "yes, Mr. March. I'll be there."

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dead-lights · 4 months

Text

portraits of the vatore siblings [in-game wall art]

I'm having a lot of fun putting the Vatores in period clothes, so I made some renders of them dressed up in 1890s-1940s clothing and threw them into that big frame from Vampires.

download [sfs]

This was a pretty big project: 3 cc wall art pieces covering 6 decades of fashion with 12 separate outfits, which resulted in 18 individual renders and 144 total swatches. Also, the frame itself is huge. I prefer them sized down (shift + [ in buy mode) but they are 100% the type to own larger-than-life portraits of themselves.

My hc is that the Vatores were born in the late 1930s/early 1940s, so imo they aren't actually old enough to have worn any of these clothes when they were first in style. I think they dressed up like it’s old times and took a buncha pictures just to confuse people trying to figure out how old they really are. Sibling bonding!

Included below are all 18 renders, with cc and full color below the cut.

1890s

1900s

1910s

1920s

1930s

1940s

I'm a little obsessed with Lilith's 1940s look ngl

lilith

1890s

hair: granny bun by @saurusness

hat: fine feathered hat by @gilded-ghosts

earrings: rose in the garden earrings by @rustys-cc

dress: the ida dress by retro-pixels (direct link)

pose: from mademoiselle by @blackpanda-ts4

1900s

hat: striped bow hat by @lilis-palace

hair: bertha by @buzzardly28

earrings: arthur earrings by @yakfarm

outfit: dress: edwardian huntress dress by @elfdor

pose: also from mademoiselle

1910s

hair and flower accessory: gibson curl updo by @the-melancholy-maiden

earrings: arthur earrings by yakfarm

dress: rose lunch dress by @happylifesims

pose: also from mademoiselle

1920s

hair: maxie by @raindropsoncowplants

lipstick: clara by @chere-indolente

dress: 1920s evening dress 06 by happylifesims

pose: from the louise brooks posepack

1930s

hair: gigi by @simadelics

coat: 1930s female coat 02 by happylifesims

pose: from barstool poses ii by @katverse

1940s

hair & dress from forties film noir by gilded-ghosts

pose: from monday poses by @ratboysims

caleb

1890

hat: 1920s top hat by happylifesims

1900

outfit: men's casual edwardian suit by @historicalsimslife

hat: 1920s bowler hat by happylifesims

1910

hat: 1920s fedora hat by happylifesims

1920

hat/coat: dmitri hat & coat by happylifesims

1930

fedora shape no. 2 by happylifesims

1930s male trench coat 01 by happylifesims

1940

hat: fedora shape no. 1 by happylifesims

suit: paper, ink, & sorrow suit by @anachrosims

sibling poses

jane austen poses by @atashi77 (both 1890)

model poses 32 (lilith 1900, 1920, 1930, 1940) and male poses 11 (caleb 1900, 1910, 1920, 1930, 1940) by @helgatisha

edwardian socialite by @funkyllama (lilith 1910)

@occult-cc-finds

#lilith vatore #caleb vatore #ts4cc #ts4 cc #ts4 buy #ts4 lookbook #ts4 vampires #ts4 wall art #ts4 decor #ts4 historical #ts4 premades #dead-lights cc #deadit #ts4 victorian #ts4 edwardian

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sailor-aviator · 8 months

Text

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Nine

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger Gang of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?

Warnings: Language, Angst, Smut, Arrest, Admittance of feelings. Think that's it.

Word Count: 7.01k

A/N: And we're back!! I decided to combine chapters nine and ten together, hence why the chapter is so long. As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!! 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator! If You're feeling kind, please consider donating to my ko-fi!

Masterlist || DGU Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

It had been weeks since the moment on the train, and you were starting to wonder if maybe you should move back to Baltimore. You hadn’t said a word to Jake since you stomped on his foot, save for the occasional comment about farm chores, and he had certainly done his damndest to avoid even looking at you it seemed.

You found yourself lying awake at night, thoughts drifting towards those of mossy green eyes and gentle touches that made your heart sing and your skin burn with longing. What little sleep you were getting was cut short by nightmares of faceless threats that grabbed at you, tearing your clothes and leaving you gasping for breath as you shot up out of bed. It wasn’t until your eyes would skim over the small, ornate wooden box that your heartbeat would slow and your shoulders would relax. You would crawl slowly out from underneath the sheets, padding over to your dresser where the box sat and run your fingers gently over the ornately carved flowers. Your heart would clench in your chest, and you would try to fight off the tears that gathered in your eyes to no avail.

Stupid, stupid man, you’d think to yourself, scrubbing furiously at your eyes before grabbing the box and trudging back to bed, laying it by your side with a hand on top before drifting back off into a dreamless sleep.

“You look like hell,” Bunny muttered to you one day, polishing a glass as Birdie sat beside you. The teacher had been teaching Bunny how to read, and she had started giving the other girl small writing assignments that she would check over.

“Your penmanship is getting better!” Birdie chirped at Bunny, beaming brightly as she slid the paper back across the bar, casting you a sideways glance. “And she’s right. You look awful. Have you been getting any sleep?”

You grimaced, scratching anxiously at the wood of the bar.

“I have,” you sighed, chewing on your bottom lip. “But it hasn’t been much.”

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain blond that’s been moping around my bar for the past three weeks, would it?” Penny asked, giving you a knowing look as she set a crate of beers down on the counter. You refused to meet her eyes, glancing up when a familiar brunette sat down on the stool next to you.

“Your brother is worried too, you know,” Nat told you, studying you closely. “He says you’ve hardly been eating and that it’s like watching a ghost walking around the house.”

“He’s exaggerating,” you scowled, rolling your eyes. Nat gave you an unimpressed look, and you looked around to see matching expressions from the other women. You sighed, burying your face into your arms atop the bar.

“Somehow, I don’t think he is,” Nat muttered.

“Are you even going to tell us what happened between the two of you?” Bunny asked, face a mask of indifference as always despite her tone of concern.

“Does it matter?” You mumbled, glancing up at her. Penny huffed, placing a hand on her hip as she leveled you with a look.

“It does when I’ve had a moody cowboy practically drink through all of my beer every night for the past three weeks,” she frowned, concern still evident in her eyes despite her disapproving tone. “Whatever happened between the two of you, I’m sure it can be fixed.”

You didn’t say anything, eyes focused on the grains of wood underneath your fingernails.

“I…” You trailed off. “I said such horrible things to him.”

“What did you say?” Birdie asked you, leaning forward and resting a hand on your arm in comfort. You felt tears well up in your eyes, and you sniffled slightly.

“I told him that he didn’t know me, that maybe I wanted to move back to Maryland and marry someone there.”

Silence. You glanced up to see the other four woman all glancing at one another. Penny sighed, looking back at you with a grimace.

“It’s not so bad,” she offered. “You could have said worse, I’m sure. It’s nothing you can’t apologize for.”

“You didn’t see his face,” you countered, sitting up straighter. “And I tried to apologize, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Jake is stubborn, that’s for damn sure,” Nat muttered, shaking her head. “He always has been, ever since we were little. You know he refused to take a payment for fixing Mr. Benson’s roof last spring? And then when Jake went to buy that emerald necklace for whatever reason, Mr. Benson had to practically shove the necklace down his throat because he wouldn’t accept the money from Jake. Pretty sure Jake snuck some behind the counter when the old man wasn’t looking, anyway.”

“Did you say emerald necklace?” You asked her, head shooting up from where you had rested it back on your arms.

Natasha nodded. “Yeah, it was that really pretty one that sat in the window for forever! I wonder what he did with it? I haven’t seen Sarah with it at all, and she’s the one he buys jewelry for.”

“You mean,” you swallowed, “he didn’t steal it?”

“Jake’s not that kind of man, honey,” Penny smiled. “He sure likes to give off that impression though, doesn’t he? He’d rather you think the worst of him before he corrects you. Thinks it’s the same as humility, the fool.”

“I,” you breathed, feeling your face grow pale. “I told him I wouldn’t accept it because I thought he stole it or bought it with stolen money.”

“Wait, he tried to give it to you?” Birdie asked, eyes wide. “And you told him no?”

“Yes,” you groaned, hanging your head once again. “I’m such a fool.”

“I hardly doubt that it was your own doing,” Bunny muttered, storing the glass she had just finished polishing. “Sure, you’re just as much a fool as he is, but it’s his own damn fault for not telling you.”

“That’s right,” Natasha nodded, turning to face you fully. “You two just need to sit down and talk, tell each other exactly what you mean and what you feel. Christ, I thought your brother was going to chuck that damn pocket watch at Jake’s head when he came slinking into the firm to give it to Benji.”

You sat straight up as your heart stopped, tears gathering in your eyes.

“He did what?” You choked, eyes wide in horror, skin pale and clammy.

Natasha regarded you, seeming to hesitate before continuing. “He came into the firm just last week, trying to give Benji this old, silver pocket watch. Said he picked it up while with you in Baltimore, and that he wanted to return it to where it belonged. I’ve never seen your brother so mad, Scout. I thought he was going to pass out from how loud he was yelling. Told Jake to keep the damn watch and get his head out of his ass.”

You were vaguely aware of Birdie blushing at Nat’s coarse language beside you, but your mind was reeling from the brunette’s words. He had tried to give your father’s pocket watch back? You thought you were going to be sick as you stood, moving to leave the saloon.

“Are you okay, Scout?” Bunny called after you, worry in her voice that was mirrored by the look on Penny’s face.

“I just remembered I have chores that need tending to,” you murmured, moving more on auto-pilot than anything in that moment.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Natasha offered, already moving to stand, but you waved her off.

“No, no,” you frowned. “I’ll manage on my own, thank you. I have some thinking to do.”

Nat didn’t seem too sure, but slowly sat back down on her stool as you walked briskly out of the saloon and onto the street. The wind whipped at your cheeks, the cold biting your skin and turning it red. You made your way home, mind numb as you replayed Natasha’s words over and over again in your head. He wanted to give the watch back? Was Penny wrong? Were you too late to make amends?

Your heart beat quicker in your chest as your mind ran a mile a minute, hardly noticing the ranch hands that rode up from the far field as you moved mechanically towards the barn. The horses would need fresh hay, and you were running behind on your to-do list for the day. You made your way up to the loft, pushing a large bale of hay towards the ledge, watching as it fell to the ground floor with a large thud. Making your way back down the ladder, you didn’t notice the figure that hovered at the barn door, too absorbed in your own thoughts.

It wasn’t until you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind as you moved to lift the hay bale that you were snapped back to the present.

“God dammit, Scout,” Jake hissed, picking you up and setting you down behind him. “How many times do I have to tell you that this isn’t a job for you?”

You stared at him, saying nothing as he turned around to start sorting out the hay into the different stalls.

“I can do it,” you muttered, taking a step forward. Jake glanced over his shoulder at you with an unimpressed look before going back to what he was doing. You took a step towards him, then another, and then another, and then more until you were standing by the hay, kneeling down as you pushed his hands away.

“I can do it,” you snapped this time, scooping up as much of the hay as you could before moving to stand, stumbling slightly in the process. Jake started towards you, hand outstretched to help you, but you stepped away, glaring up at him. You wouldn’t cry in front of him, you couldn’t.

Jake frowned down at you, dropping his hand back to his side as he regarded you. You felt your bottom lip begin to tremble, and you turned away, trudging towards the nearest stall and dispersing the hay.

“Scout, stop” he sighed, and you ignored him, moving to continue your task. As you made to make your way over to the next stall, Jake grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

“Stop,” he repeated, eyes earnest, shifting to worry as they took you in. You ripped out of his grasp, immediately going on the defensive.

“What?” You growled at him, mustering up all of the false bravado that you could as you met his green eyes. The eyes that you missed so dearly. He seemed to hesitate before squaring his shoulders and rummaging through his pockets.

“I wanted to give you something before you left for Maryland,” he said. You saw a flash of silver as he pulled his hand out. “It seemed only fair that you should have this back.”

He held the pocket watch out to you, the small bird still swooping at the bottom of the ornate design.

“What?” You asked, eyes widening as you stared at the watch. You couldn’t stop the tears that flooded your eyes, and you let out a choked sob as all of your emotions came crashing down at once. Stumbling to the side, a hand stretched out to brace against the stall door, a wail tore from your throat. It was a sound that even surprised you in how raw and unfiltered it was. You gasped for air, but none seemed to come to you as you choked out sob after sob, hardly being able to tell when one ended and the next one started.

Jake’s eyes widened as you fell apart in front of him, watching you wearily as if you were a wild animal that would turn on him at any moment. He took a tentative step towards you, waiting for you to push him back, but was instead surprised when you grasped at him, falling into his arms and latching onto his shirt as if it were the one thing that could keep you grounded. Your wails and sobs still rocked your body, tears now staining the white cotton of Jake’s shirt as you pressed your face into his chest. His arms enveloped you, holding you gently but firmly as he swayed you from side to side. A hand rested on the back of your head, slowly stroking your hair as he pressed his face into your temple. This was what you wanted.

Your cries and tears slowed to a trickle, sobs replaced by hiccups as you regained control of your breathing, Jake gently cooing at you the entire time. Jake moved to pull away, but you clung to him tighter, glancing up at him with wet eyes.

“Please don’t let me go,” you begged him softly, and you saw a whirlwind of emotion in his gaze as he looked at you. He seemed unsure on how to respond at first, but with a set of his jaw, he nodded down at you slowly.

“I’ll be right here until you’re ready to go,” he said. “I’ll hold you until you don’t need me anymore.”

You shook your head, closing your eyes tightly as you pressed yourself firmly against him.

“I’ll always need you,” you whispered, another sob wracking your body. Jake chuckled bitterly.

“No, you won’t,” he muttered, ire in his tone. “You’ll go back to Baltimore, and you’ll find yourself a husband. Someone who can give you all the things you want. Someone who can make you happy.”

He pulled away with more success this time, just enough to hold up the watch.

“You’ll give this to someone who’s deserving of you,” he whispered, his own eyes shining now. “Someone who you love.”

You stared at him, so many emotions swirling within you. This beautiful, stupid man who had insulted you the first time you met him. This man who had inserted himself into your life with little regard to social etiquette. This man who had pulled a gun for you when you were vulnerable and scared. This man who had carved you not one, but two beautiful presents. This man that had threatened to kill for you simply because you had cried. This man that listened to you and respected your moral code enough to go out and get an honest job. This man that stood before you, ready to let you leave without a second thought because he thought it was what you wanted.

“I’m not going back to Baltimore,” you said finally, face grave as you spoke. Jake’s eyebrows shot up in shock.

“You’re not?” He asked you.

“Jake, it’s been three weeks since we returned,” you replied, frowning. “If I was so eager to go back, don’t you think I would have left by now?”

“I think there’s a lot of planning that goes into something like that,” he countered. You scowled at him, pulling away completely now and putting some distance between the two of you.

“Nat told me you tried to give the watch to Benji,” you accused, glaring at the offending silver pendant.

“Did she tell you that he wouldn’t take it?” He countered with a frown.

“She did,” you confirmed, clasping your hands in front of you. “Said that my brother practically threw it back in your face, he was so angry.”

“That temper appears to be a family trait,” he muttered, and you had to suppress a smile.

You were still mad at him, after all.

“I figured,” he continued, taking a step forward, “that he just wanted me to give it back to you. It’s a family heirloom, and he has his own. It’s an important thing to you, and it’s only fair that you should give it to the person you want to spend the rest of your life with.”

He held the watch out to you, and the two of you stared at each other for a moment. Slowly, deliberately, you reached out and took the watch from him. You ran your fingers over the plants and birds etched into the sides with care, contemplating your next words.

“You’re right,” you hummed, glancing up at him. His jaw was set, eyes glistening as he watched you. “This watch should go to someone who I can call my husband. Someone who can give me the things that I want and who will make me happy.”

Jake sucked in a breath, shifting from one foot to the other as you continued.

“Someone who is deserving of me,” you breathed, eyes shining as you gazed up at him. “Someone who I love.”

Jake hung his head as you finished, and you caught the faintest hint of a sniffle as you stepped forward. You took his right hand in yours, squeezing it lightly before opening it and placing the pocket watch back into his grasp. You gently curled his fingers around it, holding his hand in both of yours as you looked up at him.

His green eyes bore into yours, a questioning look on his face as he frowned.

“I don’t understand,” he murmured, shaking his head. You rolled your eyes, moving to wrap your arms around his neck as you leaned into him. Without a thought, he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close as your lips hovered over his.

“You idiot,” you chuckled, eyelids drooping as you stared into his eyes, willing him to see what the two of you had known all along. “I love you.”

Jake stared at you, eyes widened in shock. He studied you, seeming to try and find any trace of deception. When he saw that there was none, a grin broke out on his face.

“You do?” He asked quietly, eyes sparkling with joy now.

“Mhm,” you nodded, leaning in closer so that your lips brushed his gently. “I love you, Jake.”

His lips crashed against yours, desperate to feel you. You kissed him back with just as much passion, breaking away after a few moments. Jake’s lips chased after yours, but you pulled away from him with a giggle.

“Come with me,” you said in a hushed voice, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the barn. Jake followed you eagerly, practically racing you up the steps and into the house. Your home was silent, indicating that no one else was there, and you quickly pulled Jake up the stairs and into your room.

Once you had crossed the threshold, Jake slammed the door shut, spinning you around so that you were pressed up against it. His lips grazed yours as his hands ran around to grab the back of your thighs, hoisting you up and locking them around his waist. His lips molded to yours as he pressed against your core, and you gasped as you felt the hard evidence of his desire press into your most sensitive parts, and Jake used this as an opportunity to slide his tongue against yours in languid strokes.

“Need you,” he moaned desperately, nipping at your bottom lip. Your hands ran across his shoulders, your right running up to tug on the strands of blond that curled at the nape of his neck. He let out a moan that had you grinding your core back against him, earning a whimper from the man in front of you.

“You have me,” you promised, pulling him back in for a kiss. His tongue was hot against you as you continued to grind down onto him. His hands moved to your hips, guiding your movements as he thrust up into you every so often. His lips pulled away from yours as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses from the corner of your mouth to the bottom of your earlobe. He sucked the flesh in between his lips, nibbling on it lightly before letting it go.

“Say it,” he breathed, hand palming at your breasts as you let out a wanton moan. You tilted your head as he began to suck on a patch of sensitive skin, making you see stars as he nipped every so often, laving the spot with his tongue. “Come on, honey girl. Say it.”

“I love you,” you gasped when he gave a particularly hard bite to the same spot just as he thrust up into you. Jake smirked against your neck, letting your legs drop from around him as he pulled back. You whined at the loss of contact, which only made Jake’s smirk grow bigger.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he cooed, moving to sit at the foot of the bed. “Can’t do what we’re about to do with clothes on, can we?”

It took you a second to understand what he was saying. You supposed you should have felt apprehension at the very least, but in that moment, all you could feel was a mixture of desire and…love.

You quickly undid the buttons of your skirt, letting it fall to the floor. You then removed your socks and shoes, followed quickly by your shirt and then your bloomers. You were soon left standing in front of Jake in nothing but your corset and chemise. While you had undressed, Jake had removed his own clothing, now standing in front of you in just his drawers. You felt a blush creep up your neck as he stared at you, a familiar warmth in his green gaze.

Jake walked back over to you slowly, raising a hand to unlace your corset. You sucked in a breath as it fell away from you, hitting the floor with a light thud. His hands moved to the bottom of your corset, pausing as he looked at you for permission. You nodded, swallowing thickly as his fingers gripped the bottom of the garment, pulling it up and over your head. You were completely exposed to him now, and you moved to cover yourself out of embarrassment.

“No,” Jake murmured, shaking his head as he gazed at you. “I want to see you, honey girl. Want to see what’s mine.”

You shuddered at his words, a jolt of pleasure running up your spine as you pressed your thighs together. The movement didn’t go unnoticed by Jake who chuckled lightly before turning you gently so that the backs of your knees brushed the bed. He laid you down, shifting you so that your head rested against the pillows. You reached for him, and Jake leaned down to press his lips to yours once again, licking into your mouth with soft, deliberate strokes.

You gasped when you felt his fingers trace your folds, gathering the wetness that lay there and stroking back up to your clit. Your hips jolted off the bed, and he hushed you, pressing his lips in gentle kisses back towards your ear.

“Already so wet for me, sweetheart,” he chuckled, drawing small figure eights onto your clit, and you mewled at the sensation. “Always so responsive for me. Always such a good girl for me. How did I get so lucky to have such a sweet little thing like you in my life, hm?”

“Jakey,” you breathed, locking eyes with his as he pressed a finger into you, causing your back to arch off the bed.

“It’s okay, honey girl,” he cooed, reaching up to stroke your hair. “I’ve got you, sweet thing. Always feel so tight and warm. Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock.”

You felt yourself clench at his words and he added a second finger, scissoring you open as he continued to stroke into you.

“You like the sound of that, huh?” He chuckled, placing a tender kiss to your jaw. “Like the sound of me filling you up? Giving you what you need?”

You nodded your head vigorously, eyes never leaving his. He smirked once again, looking down at where his fingers disappeared inside you before glancing back up.

“Tell me what it is you need, baby,” he whispered, watching you fall apart as he added a third finger and hitting that spongy spot inside of you. You mewled, throwing your head back. Jake kissed down the column of your throat and over the curve of your breast. He took your right nipple into his mouth, laving the bud with his tongue. The sensations were becoming too much, and you felt the familiar tingle begin to grow in your lower stomach.

Jake let go of you with a quiet pop before switching his attention to your other breast. Your hands were still tangled in his hair, holding him to you as your hips raised in time with the stroke of his fingers, desperately chasing your high.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he rasped, gazing up at you from between the valley of your breasts. “Tell me what you need.”

“Need your cock, Jakey,” you whimpered, grinding down on his fingers. “Need you inside me. Need to feel you fill me up. Need you.”

Jake reached up to take your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it gently before pulling it and letting it go.

“You have me,” he echoed your words from earlier. “Now come.”

At his command, the pleasure inside you burst, washing over you in waves as you cried out, clawing at his shoulders as he continued to pump his fingers into you slowly, riding out your high. As you came down, he slipped his fingers out of you, and you felt bereft of his touch. You watched in awe as you raised his fingers to his lips, taking them into his mouth as he made a show of licking them clean.

“Just like honey,” he hummed. You reached for him, pulling him to you as you kissed him. You licked into his mouth, moaning as you tasted yourself on his tongue. You pulled back just enough to speak against his lips.

“Want you inside of me,” you breathed, staring into his eyes, the green swallowed whole by the black of his pupils. “Want you to make love to me.”

Jake’s breath hitched as he studied you.

“Are you sure?” He asked you, and you nodded, reaching a hand down in between the two of you to grasp his hard length. Jake nearly choked as you ran your palm up and down him, grasping lightly every so often.

“I’m sure,” you whispered. Jake’s eyes bore into yours before nodding, shuffling out of his own drawers, baring himself to you. Your eyes widened as you took him in. His shaft curved towards his stomach, the tip an angry red as it leaked pre-cum.

You swallowed thickly, reaching your hand out once more to run your fingertips over the head, moving down to grip him firmly. Jake let out a low groan, throwing his head back as you stroked him experimentally.

“So good for me, darlin’,” he moaned, reaching down to remove your hand. He shot you a playful wink as he slipped his fingers through yours, resting them by your head. “But if you keep that up, I’m going to come before we even get to the fun part.”

You smiled shyly up at him as he took a hold of himself, running his length up and down your folds to gather the wetness you so freely gave him. You let out a high-pitched whimper every time the tip brushed against your clit, and you threw your head back at the pleasurable feeling. Finally, Jake rested the head against you, glancing up at you once more.

“Are you sure?” He asked you, and you nodded.

“Please, Jakey,” you whined. Jake pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth before leaning back. You gasped as you felt him press the head of his cock into your tight hole, the sensation foreign but not altogether unpleasant. He pressed a little more of his length in, pausing to let you accommodate to his size. He cradled you in his arms, leaning back down to whisper gentle words of encouragement into your ear as he slowly pressed more and more of himself into you. After what felt like ages, you finally felt the coarse hairs of his base press against your clit, sending a shock of pleasure up your spine that had you clenching around him. Jake let out a hiss, pressing his face into the column of your throat. Jake took your other hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours and pressing them on the other side of your head mirror to the ones on your right. He pulled back to look at you, eyes hazy with pleasure.

“I’m going to move now, okay?” He asked you, and you nodded, whining as he pulled back out of you slowly before thrusting back in. He continued his movement, brushing his nose against yours as his pace built, the head of him hitting that spot inside you with every pass. It wasn’t long before the vague discomfort gave way to pleasure, and soon your hips were raising to meet his.

“Such a good girl,” he moaned, giving you a kiss that was more teeth than lips. “Feel so fucking good wrapped around me like this. Taking me so well, yeah? Can feel you squeezing me, gripping me like you don’t ever want me to leave. Your cunt is so greedy for me and my big cock, huh? Such a greedy pussy, and it’s all mine now.”

You moaned wantonly at his words, your head thrown back into the pillows as he continued to rut into your soaked core. A squelching sound could be heard from where your bodies connected, but you didn’t have it in you to feel embarrassed. Not when his cock was hitting you in all the right places, his filthy words only adding to your excitement.

“Jakey,” you cried, feeling the pleasure begin to peak. Jake grunted as you clenched particularly hard around him.

“That’s it, honey girl,” he cooed, releasing your hand to cup your cheek as he gazed down at you. “Want you to cum around me, milk me dry. Milk me for all I’m worth. My balls have been aching for weeks. Havin’ to jerk off at the thought of what this sweet cunt would feel like when she drains me dry. Oh, fuck.

He gasped as your pussy spasmed around him.

“That turn you on, baby? The thought of me jerkin’ off to the thought of fillin’ you up with my cum? This pretty, little pussy is just begging me to come inside her, huh?” He groaned, thrusts becoming harder, and you could feel the coil begin to tighten.

“You close, huh, honey? I can feel how close you are. Can feel how hard your grippin’ me. That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me. Come all over my cock.”

His words were all the permission you needed, and you came with a loud cry, body spasming underneath him as he continued to stroke in and out of you as you rode out your high. Jake’s hips began to move faster, chasing his own high as he pistoned in and out of you, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout the room.

“Gonna fill you up, honey girl,” he groaned, eyes glazed over as pleasure washed over him. “Gonna fill you up, and maybe even knock you up. How’s that sound? Just thinkin’ about you all round and swollen with my baby has me goin’ crazy. Want you leakin’ with my cum by the time I’m through with you. Everybody in town is going to know you’re my girl, and they’ll know how good I make you feel. How good I take care of my girl. Fuck.”

His words had you tightening around him. They shouldn’t have made you feel the way you were feeling, but the sight of Jake so lost in the feel of you as he neared his end had another orgasm ripping through you, right off the back of the first one.

“Knew you’d like the sound of that,” he smirked, thrusts becoming sloppy. “I’m gonna come so hard for you, baby. Gonna fill you up with so much cum you’ll be leaking me for days. Shit. Need to hear you say it, baby. Tell me what you told me earlier. Be my good fucking girl and tell me.”

“I love you,” you keened, barely coherent as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. “Want you to fill me up, Jakey, please. Wanna feel you.”

“Shit, darlin’,” he gasped hips stuttering, and you felt red hot spurts begin to fill you. Jake pinched his eyes closed, lost in his own pleasure as he began to babble. “Fuck! Oh, fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming for you, baby. It’s all for you, that’s it. Take it. Take all of it and milk me. Jesus Christ. Oh, I love you. I love you. I love you so much, Scout. Oh…”

His hips slowed as his orgasm subsided, and he practically collapsed on top of you as the last tremors of his release rocked through him. You ran your fingers through his hair, skin hot and sweaty as you both calmed down. Jake’s head rested against your chest, and you let out a contented sigh as he placed a gentle kiss to the swell of your breast before looking up at you. His green eyes were filled with love and awe, emotions that you were sure reflected in your own.

“I love you,” he murmured, earning a small smile.

“I love you too.”

You awoke the next morning feeling a soreness between your legs, but a pleasant buzz filling you nonetheless. You shifted, taking note of the strong arms that held you tighter against a broad chest at your back. Warm lips pressed gentle kisses up the curve of your shoulder and to your temple.

“Good morning, honey girl.”

You smiled turning to meet the bright green eyes of Jake Seresin.

“Good morning,” you greeted softly, turning so that you faced him. His head was propped up against his hand as the other one traced up and down your side. “I’m surprised you’re still here. I figured you’d be sick of me by now.”

“Sick of you?” He chuckled, shaking his head, leaning forward to meet you in a lazy kiss before pulling back. “I’ll never get sick of you, pretty girl.”

“So,” you hummed, glancing at him slyly. “What’s next?”

“Well,” he began, smirking lightly. “I figured we’d get dressed, and we’d go downstairs so I could make you breakfast, and then we have a repeat of last night.”

“Is that all you want?” you asked him quietly, insecurity rearing its ugly head as he spoke. His smirk dropped into a frown, and he shook his head.

“No,” he stated firmly, looking at you seriously. “No, Scout. I meant what I said. I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. I intend to make an honest woman out of you if you’ll have me.”

You smiled at his words, biting your lip to keep from smiling.

“I suppose you’ll do,” you smirked, earning a chuckle from the blond.

“You’re such a tease,” he admonished, leaning in to press his lips to yours. You opened your mouth to him, letting him stroke your tongue with his in easy strokes.

“Jake!”

The two of you jumped as you heard the front door slam shut, Bradley’s voice carrying up the stairs. Your eyes widened as you scrambled to get out of bed, searching for some article of clothing to throw on to preserve your modesty.

“Jake, I know you’re in here. I need your help!”

Jake cursed from the other side of the bed, throwing his trousers and shirt on as you threw your chemise over your head just as Bradley burst through the door. Jake scowled at him, moving to shield your body with his.

“Don’t you know how to knock?” He snapped, glaring up at the brunette. Bradley rolled his eyes, giving you an apologetic smile.

“Hey, Scout,” he greeted briefly before turning his attention back to Jake. “Look, I’m glad that the two of you have made up, but this is serious. I need your help to wrangle the group.”

“What’s going on? Did Javy sleep with someone’s wife again?” Jake scowled, watching you as you moved to put more clothing on. “If you hadn’t guessed, I’m kind of busy, and Javy is a big boy. He can take care of his own messes.”

Bradley shook his head. “It’s not Javy, it’s Bob.”

Jake and you became more alert at that, eyes shooting up to look at Bradley as he stood in the doorway, shifting from one foot to the other nervously.

“What do you mean?” Jake questioned, scrambling to put his boots on.

“Some men down at the saloon were saying some pretty nasty shit to Bunny, and Bob stepped in. That’s when I came to get you ‘cause I knew it was about to get nasty, and I need all the help I can get.”

“Shit,” Jake muttered, turning to look at you. He placed his hands on your shoulders, giving you a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I need you to stay here, honey girl.”

“What?” You frowned, shaking your head. “No, I’m coming with you.”

“Scout, please,” he pleaded, looking at you with furrowed brows. “This could get ugly, and I’d feel a lot better knowing that you are here at home. Safe. Will you please just do this for me?”

You regarded him for a moment, nodding finally, and Jake let out a relieved sigh. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before turning to follow Bradley out the door. “I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

He disappeared down the hall, and a few moments later you heard the front door slam shut once more. You sighed, looking around the room before deciding to strip your sheets. It took you a few minutes to gather all of them, placing them in the basket by the door and moving with it downstairs. You placed the basket by the back door, eyeing the kitchen before shaking your head.

“Ridiculous,” you muttered, making for the front door. You walked briskly down the road and towards the saloon where a small crowd had gathered. You pushed your way through, earning jeers and curses from the people around you. Just as you made your way to the front of the crowd, your heart dropped, ice chilling your bones. You saw Marshal Simpson slam Jake up against the side of the saloon, cuffing his hands behind his back. Jake winced at the rough treatment, Simpson hauling him back so roughly that he stumbled a ways, glaring back at the older man.

“Is this all really necessary?” Jake drawled, sarcasm dripping from his tone as Simpson scowled.

“Yes,” the marshal snapped, pushing Jake forward as they began to walk. Jake’s eyes scanned the crowd as he moved, eyes landing on you, softening. He paused in front of you, and you felt the tears begin to stream down your face.

“Hey, sweet girl,” he whispered, glancing back at Simpson who glanced between the two of you. “Everything is going to be alright, yeah? Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll be out as a free man before you know it.”

“You shouldn’t lie to her, Hangman,” Simpson said, casting you a sympathetic look. “We all know that this is the end of the line for you.”

Jake frowned at his words, moving to say something before Marshal Simpson pushed him forward towards the town jail. Jake cast looked over his shoulder at you, giving you a tight smile before being ushered through the doors.

Your eyes scanned the street for anyone who might be able to help, but you didn’t see any of the other Daggers as the crowd began to disperse. You felt despair and hopelessness fill you. You had been so close to happiness, and you knew in your heart that Jake was a different man from the one the marshal was sent to track down.

Your eyes continued to rove over the townsfolk before landing on a familiar face. The pit in your stomach dropped, terror gripping at you as your breath came out in short gasps. Black, bottomless eyes stared right at you, a malicious grin on Isaac’s face as he watched you. You choked back a scream as he tipped his hat to you, and a wave of realization hit you.

This had been a setup, a trap. Isaac had planned this, and he had set the Dagger Gang up to be arrested. As far as you knew, Jake was the only one that had been caught, but that would have been enough for the man who stood on the opposite side of the street. You gathered your skirts and ran in the opposite direction, desperate to get away from the evil man. You had to find the other Daggers. You had to find Maverick or Tom. Someone had to have a plan on how to get Jake out of this mess.

You rounded a building off of the main street, leaning against it and sinking to the ground. You let the tears flow freely, the sense of helplessness overtaking you as you realized just how much trouble Jake was in. Even if you managed to get him out, there was no guarantee that it would be legally or without injury to someone, and yet you were determined to try.

You had just had a taste of what it would be like to lose Jake, and the thought alone sent another wave of tears rolling down your cheek. No. No, you would not lose him again. You scrubbed at your eyes, putting on a brave face as you stood. Squaring your shoulders, you glanced around to find you were alone. You made your way back, heading for Maverick and Penny’s home.

Someone would have a plan, and you were bound and determined to help.

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papermatisse · 1 month

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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

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