#i'm sorry i keep posting about this and again i know i'm more privileged than a LOT of people | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

papermatisse · 6 months ago

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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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yousaydisco · 1 month ago

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Finished rated E Harry/Kim ficlet that I don't want to post to my ao3. 4.2k words, first time, Harry and Kim meet up a week after Martinaise and their relationship turns from platonic to decidedly not.

It is late evening, a time when children are put to bed and delinquents are looking at themselves in cracked mirrors getting ready for a night of raising Hell and feeling at peace with themselves, when Kim's phone rings. He gets up from his well-loved armchair (the one that has cracks in the faux leather that are irreparable) to pad across to it but doesn't rush himself. It is partially on its second ring when he answers with "This is Lieutenant Kitsuragi."

When the voice on the other end answers with a resounding "Kim!" a small part of his gut regrets that it took him so long to answer. Harry sounded like a lot of things: exhausted, no doubt still recovering from Martinaise, elated to him from Kim again, but mostly he sounded overwhelmingly relieved. Like maybe he hadn't remembered Kim's phone number correctly and wasn't sure if he was going to get the right person.

Or more like he thought Kim wouldn't answer the phone at all. He could still hang up, having heard Harry's voice and wanting to come clean of him completely. Write off their entire meeting as something to forget, but that's something that Kim would only do in his nightmares. If given the opportunity he would like to keep a hold on the strange man he met in Martinaise.

He had carved out a life for himself that purposefully leaves little room for anything besides the RCM. It allows him to more easily find comfort in routine: work, home, sleep, back to work. He's never been good at people - people who can be unpredictable or needy or any number of things that would disrupt his routine. So he doesn't have people in his life. Any loneliness that lingers is just the price to pay for the most powerful feeling of comfort he can afford himself. Except. . .

"Hello, Harry." he doesn't use 'detective' because that would be too formal over the phone. But for some reason using 'Harry' also feels like the wrong decision. Well, no, it's not actually about using his name, it's about how Kim was so beside himself at hearing the gravelly voice again that he let himself smile wide. A full-tooth smile that is far too intimate. Too revealing. Just as quickly as it appeared on his face he bites it back down again.

It has been one week since he has heard from Harry and it feels like a hell of a lot longer than that. But also shorter, which makes no sense at all but still feels very true. Before he was sent on the case, and briefly before Harry called him, he was reading a novel called Time-Sickness, which takes place in a world where the privileged class of people have the ability to time-travel as they please but they quickly figure out that doing it too much causes the traveler to get horribly, horribly sick. Not fatal, if they take breaks, but inconvenient. It wasn't long before they got the idea to pay other people to time-travel for them while they wore specifically made glasses that allowed the rich to view the adventures through the eyes of 'the hired help' as they were called, and since they were hired for a job it is usually taken on by people who can't afford to take breaks between traveling. The descriptions of the time-sickness reminds him a lot of how his past week has felt without Harry. An impossibly long-short stretch where all he can do is try to go on a normal life until time eventually starts working again.

His wandering thoughts are easier to suppress than his smile was and together they huddle in the back corner of his mind.

Too late. Harry, in the supra-natural way he just knows things, has caught it. "Did I interrupt your reading? I'm sorry - I can call you back."

He placed the book closed on the table with his phone. "No, that's alright. I wasn't very invested in it. How have you been, Harry?"

A shaky breath makes its way through the receiver. Kim unconsciously pressed the phone even closer, as if he could hear what made Harry so unsteady. "It's been a lot. Bed rest. You know how it is."

On one hand, as a workaholic, he does know how it is. To be left idle when you know there's a mountain of work to do, that other people are doing and no doubt cursing your existence out for leaving it to them, is its own form of torture. But on the other hand as someone who isn't recovering from both a bullet wound but also severe memory loss, who is possibly trying to stay sober after years of succumbing to various addictions, and who is facing the very real possibility that after bed rest is complete he may not actually have a job to go back to, he doesn't really know how it is.

"I've missed you." The pure sincerity of the statement made Kim's defenses raise as much as it warmed him.

"It's only been a week." He tries to put in a teasing note to the words to hide the fact that his default would sound too fond.

"We did great work together. Really, really good stuff."

Harry had invited him to transfer to the 41st before they separated and Kim had said something positive, though rather vague. He had filled out the transfer form at the start of the next day but didn't turn it in quite yet. That night he had attempted to call Harry himself. It eventually rang out. He did not leave a message. He did not try again.

A part of him, something that has lingered ever since he was a teenager with no friends, had anxiously told him to rip up the form. That he has yet again misread a relationship into it being more than it is, that any sense of intensity is actually one-sided, and that he has overstepped a boundary. That the offer was, in all actuality, given out of politeness instead of sincerity and Kim was not supposed to take it literally.

He couldn't rip it up. It's still sitting on his kitchen table.

But Harry is on the phone with him now. He is real again, not just a figment of his memory fading faster than he wants it to. In the back of his mind there is still a twinge of fear that he had made up the mad, drunken man from Precinct 41. That in his loneliness and grief he had conjured a man so hurt, so lost, so desperate that of course he would think Kim is cool. A man with no memory of anyone else in the world, so there's no excuse but to latch onto Kim in the way that he had. Even in his harshest moments of self-critique, he wouldn't think that he was capable of something so pathetic, but that missed phone call really got to him.

"I can't believe you're real." Harry almost whispers. Did he catch that thought of Kim's too? Or is it all his own? He can't ask. He will just have to die not knowing.

They talk for hours that night. And then again two nights later. About a lot of things. There is not a lot that Harry can share about his past but that is okay, he is content with sharing the bits of pieces he is learning on his own. But mostly he wants to know about Kim. Which is terrifying. The idea that there is someone that wants to know him deeply, know every crevice there is, and that he no longer has a real barrier against that. He doesn't tell Harry everything but he tells him far more than he would have told anyone else pre-Martinaise.

"Please, Kim can I - can I see you?" Harry asked a week into their nightly phone calls. His voice sounds desperate like he is a man dying in the desert who doesn't believe he deserves a single drop of water and yet is still asking for a drink. And Kim is the one holding the pitcher.

His fingers twitch to reach for his car keys. It is almost one in the morning. "Khm." He hums in consideration, practically feeling Harry sweat through the phone. As if Kim would say no. "I am free Sunday."

It's Wednesday.

They still talk on the phone every night until then and when Sunday comes Kim almost cancels. Not because he wants to but because there is a layer of something magical, something supra-natural almost that has fallen over the two of them and meeting would break that. Almost like he got his one chance to hang out with Harry in person and he shouldn't ask for more. Almost like if sees Harry again, or continues to let him know things about his life, then he will eventually realize just how mundane he really is.

But he doesn't cancel. They meet up again.

They meet up for lunch at a place that Harry had said was amazing. Swore up and down that they served the best food. Kim knew to keep his expectations safely low when he noticed the health rating posted in the front being. . . acceptably high. Just barely.

Kim was early. Almost thirty minutes before their agreed-upon meeting time. He's aggressively punctual in every aspect of his life but usually not so early. He's just. . . happy to have someplace new to try, he would say. Surprisingly, Harry is also early, arriving maybe ten minutes later walking on a cane. Still recovering from the gunshot wound. Kim stood up from the booth as soon as he saw Harry enter the restaurant and smiled, his smile growing wider when Harry brightened up like the morning sun at the sight of Kim.

He had walked to Harry with his hand out, intending for a handshake (safe but still sincere) but Harry didn't hesitate before grabbing him by the forearm and pulling him into a deep hug, one hand still on his cane. Kim wrapped his arms around Harry's middle and returned the deep embrace. Thankfully Harry had taken a shower since they last met, and was wearing freshly washed clothing, and so he actually smelled. . . very good. Husky, almost spiced. Kim did not take a deep breath but he did mentally jot down the notes with the intention of writing it in his notebook. For later.

It was briefly stilted after they sat down together. Both looking at each other in a way that you would think that they had been separated for years rather than two weeks (more like a week and a half, but who's counting?). But Harry was the one to break the tension.

"I think we were meant to meet." His eyes shine with intense sincerity and vulnerability. He looked like he could cry. Kim's gloved hands twitched but he tried to look open and comfortable. "I wouldn't have been able to pull myself out of the hole without you. I wouldn't have. I'd be dead."

"I doubt that." Kim pulls his hands together to hold them steady and looks Harry in the eyes. "You've always had it in you to be better. You just finally wanted to."

Conversation flowed much easier after that. They stayed in that restaurant, in that booth, far beyond lunch. When they eventually left, after the manager had started walking by and silently gesturing to the clock, Harry looked at him in the far-off way that he does when he's thinking. Kim patiently waits, trying to not obviously check him out.

Harry had been able to remain sober even without a case distracting him. His eyes were no longer glassy and his breath no longer reeked. He hasn't gotten a trim yet so his hair is still a bit unruly but it's clear he has run a comb through it. His face is pale, unhealthily so, but no longer flushed a permanent, angry red. The swelling in his nose has all but disappeared but there is a noticeable, but not intense, shake to his hands.

All in all Kim sees a very handsome man on the road to recovery.

"Can you give me a ride home?" Harry asks. "I'm sorry to ask - I took the train here and it's still running I'm just - " he falters off momentarily, embarrassed. "It's a long walk. I'm not used to a cane yet - "

"There's no need to explain." Kim, standing at his default parade's rest, faces him completely. "Of course I'll drive you home."

He could not deny that there is a certain tension in the air. A spark of electricity that is threatening to burn the both of them inside out. Something that has changed since working on THE HANGED MAN case. Or, more accurately, something that was planted during their time working together and now they are starting to see the fruits of their labor. Kim could not keep from glancing at Harry in the backseat through the cage of the Kineema and it was obvious Harry could tell. Probably even without his can-opening abilities. Every time Kim glanced at him through the rear-view mirror, Harry squirmed and looked out the window, blushing.

Kim gripped the steering wheel tightly and looked back at the road. Then glanced at Harry again just to see more pink dusting his cheeks.

If he were dropping Harry off and speeding away he might have just pulled up to the curb. Maybe. But that would be rather ungentlemanly, to make someone with a recent and serious injury walk that much more steps to their door. That's the excuse he would use if Harry questioned why he went out of his way to grab a spot in the actual lot meant for overnight visitors only.

"Do you - um." He started the sentence off strong but when Kim looked at him, still through the rear-view mirror, he faltered. "Coffee? Is that something you drink? Probably right, I mean that's the whole thing. With cops. That we drink a lot of coffee."

"Khm." Kim nodded. "And donuts."

"Right! Coffee and donuts." He smiled, pleased that Kim caught it. "So would you like a cup? Of coffee. I don't have a cup of donuts."

"You're not asking me for coffee." Because he may not be a can-opener but he is still an investgator. He probably doesn't need to be an investigator to read Harry though, since his nervousness is obvious from a mile away. It's been forever since a man was so eager for Kim's approval, nervous because he might say no or not be as interested. The only reason that he couldn't sit here and bask in the feeling forever is because that would mean never saying yes to Harry, who he wants to just give things to. Anything he wants. The initial hint of denial is made that much sweeter when he knows that they both are going to get what they want in the end.

"I'm not asking you for coffee." Harry gulps. "Come in with me anyway?"

What was that about denial?

Kim is a gracious man. He does not kiss Harry until they are both inside, front door closed, and not until he pushes Harry to sit on the couch.

"Kim," he whispers reverently and looks up at him with bright, clear eyes. Clearer than Kim has ever seen on him before. The green in his eyes were turned to a thin sliver with how aroused he was, looking up at Kim.

Kim pushes Harry's legs far enough apart for him to stand between them and slowly takes his gloves off, smirking at how Harry's eyes trace every tiny movement of his hands. When they're freed he gently cradles Harry's jaw in one of his hands, then finally leans down for a kiss.

Harry's dry lips practically melt against Kim's and he makes a whining noise, faintly like a dog begging to be let back in the house, except it's ecstatic and hot and leaves a spark at the base of Kim's spine. Harry snakes up his arms underneath Kim's jacket, his shirt, so that he's making contact with his bare skin already. Kim pushes Harry until he's lying back on the couch and he lays on top of him, careful to not put weight on Harry's bad leg, never breaking contact with his mouth during the entire transition. He takes off his jacket and lays it so it's hanging on the nightstand next to the couch, more careless than he usually is with his things but he doesn't particularly care to fold it or leave Harry to hang it on the hook.

He's so solid underneath Kim's hands. So real. Everything he needs to touch to dissuade all fears that the week in Martinaise didn't happen, that they never actually met, and that Harry is a figment of his lonely and horny imagination. He needs more.

"Kiiiiiiim." Harry whines when they separate and Kim knows that he cannot keep how much the sound of Harry whining his name is affecting him off of his face. Judging by the fact that Harry's face gets even more red, it is well-received.

"You have to be patient, detective" Kim moves to start mouthing at Harry's neck and shoulder as his hands start making quick work of unbuttoning his shirt. Harry is so tantalizing warm that it's like he has a red-hot molten core and Kim is approaching it with disregard for either of their safety. "Can you be patient for me?"

Harry nodded so fast that Kim was vaguely worried that he was about to give himself whiplash, but the nodding stopped when Kim started mouthing at his collarbone. He could feel the form beneath him shaking with a barely concealed effort to keep still as more and more whimpers fell out of Harry's mouth as Kim explored more of his chest.

Something that he didn't get the chance to fully and truly appreciate in their brief time together was just how - khm - hairy he was. Kim resisted the urge to stuff his face right in the middle of his chest and breathe deeply and instead, he raked his nails down the entire expanse of the area, not too rough but not gently either. His nails tinged the areas of exposed skin slightly pink and caused the affected areas to swell in animalistic lines underneath his hands.

The noises that Harry makes sound like a symphony.

Harry still having his shirt on as much as he did was starting to become very irritating to him. Kim did not roughly rip it open, he has more care for other people's things than that, but he did make unbuttoning it his top priority until Harry's chest was fully exposed. Kim leaned back for a moment so he was sitting on Harry's lap, his sinewy frame being comforted by Harry's strong thighs, just to peer down at him, admire him, until eventually Harry squirmed uncomfortably.

"Um," he mutters, then tries to put on a semblance of a confident smirk. "Like what you see?" in a tone that made it obvious he could not believe that Kim was liking what he was seeing.

Kim leaned forward and smashed a hot, bruising kiss onto Harry's mouth. "Yes. I 'like what I see' very much."

Harry whined softly at his words and those whines turned into loud, shameless moans when Kim went back over the red lines still visible on Harry's chest with more, dragging his nails tantalizingly slow over his chest. Sometimes, briefly, overlapping the raised marks but mostly making new ones. Bringing the blood to the area without threatening to break the skin, making his skin hot and sensitive to all stimulation.

But it's more than that if he's being honest with himself. It's the fact that Harry is now covered in evidence that Kim was here. That the marks and Harry's reaction to them are Kim's doing. That they haven't even taken their pants off and Harry is marked by Kim, not belonging to him but it'd be clear for the days if not weeks to come that he was here to anyone else who got to see.

"Kim, fuck - Kim." Harry gasped. "Please, f-fuck me. Or let me suck you off. Touch me. Do something. Please. I'm about to die."

"We can't have that." Kim smirked and Harry flushed even redder, which shouldn't have been possible.

Kim vaguely recalled Harry talking about heart problems back in Martinaise and thought that he should show some mercy, in case Harry wasn't lying and he could actually have a medical emergency from all the teasing.

So he quickly unbuttoned Harry's pants while Harry unbuttoned his own and in no time at all they were exposed from the waist down. Harry's cock, like the rest of him, was large. Though less in length and more in girth, with the tip being vibrant pink and already leaking profusely. Kim thought it looked rather nice nestled next to his own, cradled in his hand, as he jerked them both off.

Harry was made speechless by this, only letting out moans and whines and breaths so aroused that they could almost be described as anguished. He was trying to lean up, supporting himself with his strong arms, so he could look at Kim's ministrations. Grey-green eyes locked on every movement, actively trying to fight against the urge to lean back and fall into the pure pleasure of it all.

He let Harry do that for a few moments, still feeling merciful, before he used his free hand to grab Harry by the chin and gently direct him to look up at his face. Then, while not breaking in rhythm where he was still jerking them off, removed his hand from Harry's chin and swiped a healthy amount of pre-cum off of their tips, and shoved two fingers in Harry's open mouth.

Harry let half a moan slip before it was cut off by him suckling Kim's fingers, tongue curling around them enthusiastically. Kim maneuvered them so that he was gently fucking Harry's mouth and then eventually, testing it since he had no idea of Harry's experience but guessing by how repressed his Whole Thing is that it isn't a lot, barely teasing his throat. Mostly a promise for the future. If he's good. And he is - he takes it like it's the only thing keeping him grounded to reality at this moment, like this was something he had secretly had a thought project about and was finally fulfilling something.

Kim could feel the tell-tale heat build up in his stomach and he sped up, removing the other hand from Harry's mouth he returned to the scratch marks on his chest, latching onto one that appeared the most red and tender and pressed on it. "Cum for me."

Harry finally slumped back, unable to hold himself up anymore, and with a mantra of just Kim repeated as many times as he can fit into one breath he cums, most of it spurting onto his own chest but a surprisingly large amount puddling onto Kim's hand. It wasn't too long until Kim was following after him, deliberately aiming to make an even bigger mess on Harry's chest.

They sat there for a few moments, breathing heavily, before Kim stood up on shaky legs. He situated himself back into his pants before walking down the hall and hoping to find - ah, yes. The bathroom. He grabbed a clean towel and returned to Harry, still in the same position on the couch in the living room with a completely dazed look in his eye. He seemed to barely notice Kim cleaning him up, except for a fond smile breaking out across his face.

'Khm." Kim cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed. "Apologies for - " he wasn't sure how to word it so he only gestured to the several red and angry scratch marks still present on Harry's chest. He had, admittedly, lost control in the heat of the moment.

"Noooo, don't apologize." He finally looked at Kim, slowly coming back to himself. "That was the sexiest thing that has ever happened to me. You should, um. Do it again. Later! If you don't have the energy for round two. And only if you also liked it. That would be very disco."

Kim smirked down at Harry, who was looking up at him with eager eyes. "Do you have the energy for more, Harrier?"

He shivered. "I don't know. Probably not. But I'd really like to."

"You're completely insatiable." Kim said before reconnecting their lips again.

#disco elysium #harrykim #fanfic #don't judge me too hard bc i agree this isnt my best work

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hexfloog · 3 months ago

Text

07/27/2024 - Chapter 1/???

Mild content warning for language and disturbing imagery.

Also posted on AO3 if you prefer to read on their platform~

day six

Conan's eyes drifted towards the badge on the table. He tilted his head, presumably in an effort to read the upside-down characters, and idly drummed his fingers until he could make them out.

"Sergeant Wataru Takagi?" he scoffed.

Takagi watched him closely. For the last half-hour the world outside had ceased to exist; Conan and himself were all there was, confined together until Mouri-san returned. The habitual, incessant click of nails against steel reminded him of suspects who couldn't stop flicking their lighters in the hot seat. It was a coping mechanism, music to soothe the savage beast, subconscious and damning, but Conan lacked the usual apprehension of someone who knew they were in deep trouble.

"You’ve never told us what your official rank is before. That's one rung below inspector, isn't it?" he continued. "Nice job, Takagi-keiji, they'll make a good ol' boy out of you yet," he crooned.

He ignored it, instead trying to put words to the disquiet. Names disperse the fog of the unknown, he recited. But did he really even know anything to begin with? Conan was an enigma: a proven child decidedly unchildlike, some contradictory performance of amateurism and expertise. And it had always been like that, of course, but here in this cold, metal box… it was different, somehow. It felt sinister.

Surely he was being toyed with, manipulated and used as he often was as a convenient pawn with police privileges, but he suspected that this time it was not in pursuit of justice. And certainly not in service of benign curiosity.

Toyed with. Yes, that was it.

The room seemed to darken. He was suddenly cognizant of the M60 resting in the holster hidden behind the flap of his coat, pressing into him like a ready hand on his waist.

“I'm not anxious, if that's what you're thinking," Conan smirked, as if to answer his thoughts. "Are you?"

Takagi's eyes widened. He shifted his jaw and accidentally swallowed the mint he'd had stuck between his cheek and molar. After the discomfort subsided, he quietly cursed no longer having a distraction to cull the effects of his ruminating.

Just over his shoulder, the clock struck four. Sweat collected on his brow and he wished he hadn't forgotten his water at home.

"You know something," his voice finally cracked.

"I know a lot of things," Conan jeered.

"Okay," Takagi ventured, "then tell me all you know about the whereabouts of--"

The square in his back pocket suddenly buzzed to life. He hid it well, but it had the same effect as someone putting ice down his back on a slow day, a rude awakening from the procedural tunnel-vision.

Deflecting the look of disappointment from Conan, he traded his lull for focus again and turned away to check his messages.

You need a warrant.

He stopped himself from making a noise should anyone hear it and typed his response.

doesn't it count as a wellness check?

This is a little more than a welfare check and you know it. Don't get us into any shit.

He knit his brow.

suggestions? loopholes? Sorry, but that's it. Mouri-kun won't let me keep going without going through the proper channels. that's not like him. It's how it is.

He spared a glance at Conan, who was studying him fiercely. He grimaced.

Shiratori-san might jerk him off about a lot of things, but not this. He was right: it wasn't his place to instigate, especially without probable cause. All he had was a cryptic, anonymous tip, a hysterical ‘witness,’ and a gut feeling. Edogawa Conan killed Kudou Shinichi, the caller insisted. When he scolded them not to pull pranks on the police, he was cut off. He knows a thing or two about what happened to the girl who disappeared, too . That was three days ago.

It was an outlandish claim that couldn't possibly hold water. Would anyone be so eager to investigate such an absurd tip? He didn’t really believe it himself. Frankly, that he was even entertaining it at all was a little embarrassing– well, embarrassing enough that he was being careful not to proceed officially.

That said, he was quickly learning that bureaucratic inconvenience only kindled his curiosity. Absurd as it was, Conan himself was absurd, was he not? Case after case, he had proven himself intelligent and formidable…calculating, even. Genius was capable of both great and terrible things. And he couldn't speak for the others, but he'd noticed time and time again that he seemed to know how to play a Machiavellian game and win.

Perhaps the caller had noticed, too. The warning had come to him directly, after all - they had bypassed the official tip line and called his extension. That probably stood for something and it was a detail he couldn’t ignore.

Still, gut feelings and hunches were mere embers against the fires of doubt. And as Shiratori-san had pointed out, he had no authority to fan the flames…yet.

He looked back to his phone.

okay. but one more thing can you ask around 5-chome for kudou shinichi? just if anyone's seen him recently. off the record

When there was no immediate reply, he hastily– and begrudgingly– tacked on another text.

i’ll grab lunch next week.

What's this about, Takagi? I’m off today. Why didn't you run this by Sato or Megure instead?

The phone snapped shut in his palm before he could really think about doing it. Or before Shiratori-san could agree to taking his lunch money.

He caught Conan’s watchful eye in the next moment and puffed his chest out, suddenly awash with a sense of injustice. The answer was obvious, wasn’t it? Ayumi-chan had disappeared, and if Kudou-kun could be declared officially missing too, then he just wanted to find them, right?

The sound of his own voice startled him. "Where is Kudou Shinichi?”

Conan canted his head, surprised by his audacity. An ominous, knowing smile crept across his face.

"In here," he offered, thumping his chest. "With me."

Takagi’s skin prickled. He sounded so sure of himself. Too sure of himself, actually, for having given such a baffling non-answer. Was he just wasting his time?

“I’m not playing around, Conan-kun,” he warned.

"And I am?” he fired back. “How can you know ? Maybe I am telling the truth. Can you prove it?"

"Don't--"

"Get real,” he growled, cutting him off. “I'm not a suspect. And you can't make me tell you anything, either."

"Well, no," Takagi admitted, suppressing a nervous chuckle. The grip on his phone slackened some and in the same moment he became aware he had been squeezing it like a stress ball. He rotated it in his hands, its rounded corners and worn finish warm in his palm. "You can't be a suspect if there is no crime. But you are a person of interest, especially if you have something to tell that would hint at one."

It would've been funnier if their circumstances were different, but part of him was relieved Conan had said the quiet part out loud first. And maybe he’d realized it too when he shot him a stuffy little pout instead of mouthing off right away, a jarringly childish gesture that betrayed his otherwise cruel demeanor.

There was a silent, mutual understanding that they both knew the jig was up, and yet…

“Okay,” Conan grumbled, shoving his hands under his armpits, “what exactly are you accusing me of, here?”

“I never accused you of anything,” Takagi assured him, “but you did say you ‘know things.’ Can you tell me those things?”

“Pee is stored in the balls.”

“... Conan-kun. ”

Conan rolled his eyes, folding his arms tighter across his chest. “In some countries, over two-hundred policemen die in the line of duty. By contrast, law enforcement agencies can account for over one-thousand civilian deaths annually. How do you think the public feels about the cops when they either kill or keel over instead of doing their jobs?” he huffed, glowering at his captor from just above the rim of his glasses.

He clearly meant to provoke him, but oddly, Takagi was randomly struck with the thought that he had never had a direct line of sight to Conan-kun’s eyes before. He was spellbound by the unique color, a shade of mahogany peeking out from behind the glare of his lenses. Huh. What did Conan just say to him? He didn’t hear it. He’d forgotten what he’d wanted to say, too. Mahogany? That was a unique color. All his years of looking at lineups and he couldn’t think of a single person who had had anything close. What kind of lineage did someone need to have to inherit red-tinted eyes? That seemed a bit off, didn’t it?

He kept looking. He thought of space photography and the fantastical pictures of nebulae he sometimes saw in magazines, red clouds of dust in the ether.

Soon, he was cognizant of the pressure in his teeth, the involuntary clenching of his jaws. The skin around his eyes felt tight… but he couldn’t look away. The nebulae exploded into rivers of blood and the stardust of lost worlds, swirling into the reddest cacophony he’d ever imagined.

Now his eyeballs stung. He couldn’t blink. He wanted to stop, but… nothing would listen. Instead, his mind was swimming upstream, battling against rapids he couldn’t remember falling into. He’d not moved from his chair in almost an hour, but his bones ached like he’d been training relentlessly for weeks… useless all the same.

Stop. Stop! Why couldn’t he stop? His lungs were on fire. Blood ignited like gasoline in his veins, soot choked his throat and every breath was a gulp of acetone stripping him raw from the inside out. His vision blurred, pulsating in rhythm with the heat traveling through his fingers, and yet… he could still see them … and they could surely still see him …

God, what was happening??

Conan suddenly erupted into hideous laughter, ripping Takagi unceremoniously from his trance. Visions of fire and brimstone ceased the moment he was allowed to blink, with barely a second to recover before being addressed again.

“Takagi-keiji,” Conan sneered, his tone dark and domineering, “so what if you find Ayumi-chan? Or Shinichi-niichan, for that matter?”

Leaning forward, he splayed his fingers across the table, dragging out the metallic slide of nails against steel as they uncurled from his fists. “Do you think if you pick up all of Ayumi-chan’s teeth, they'll promote you to Inspector?” he grinned.

The silence hung just long enough for Takagi to recover some of his faculties, but he was too dazed to respond. There were echoes of something in his head… phantom sensations all across his body like flies on his skin… but ultimately, Conan got to watch as the police sergeant, his face a crinkle of puzzlement, examined his hands and the floor beneath his feet as if he were seeing them for the first time.

That moment of respite, too, was ripped from him when the door suddenly crashed open. Mouri Kogoro burst into the sterile interrogation room, his expression a rough amalgamation of recently-dormant paternal instincts that hadn’t seen use since Ran-san was Conan’s age.

He spared neither of them any formalities. “Wait outside,” he growled, fidgeting with the stale cigarette in his mouth. Conan didn’t fuss and excused himself without another word.

“Detective,” Kogoro started, “I don’t appreciate being lured away so you can… do whatever the hell with the kid behind my back.” He waved his hands for emphasis. “I’m still this brat’s legal guardian. And brats have rights, whether I like it or not.”

Takagi still wasn’t at one-hundred percent, but he could read the discontent in Kogoro’s body language well enough. Unfortunately, the most he could do was bumble out a slurred, “No, of course not…”

“What the hell is this all about, anyway?” he demanded. “Not only do you trick me into leaving the kid alone with you for questioning , but you sicced Shiratori on me too? To get permission after the fact?”

He bit down on the cigarette, studying Takagi and his somewhat disoriented manner, expecting him to defend himself.

“...I got a tip,” he finally admitted.

“Tip? Tip for what?”

“We’re looking for two individuals. Yoshida Ayumi and Kudou Shinichi.”

Kogoro almost laughed. The familiarity of both names spurred something in him, but not enough to change any opinions. “And who’s your tipster?”

“Anonymous.”

“Oh, of course.”

Takagi hesitated. "They mentioned Conan-kun by name."

Kogoro sighed. “Tell me you��re not taking this seriously,” he pleaded. “Surely you realize how ridiculous a claim that is. The kid is seven .”

He didn’t answer right away. He was talking to the man who, probably better than anyone, could testify to just how abnormal a seven year-old Conan was, which– prior to the conversation he had just had with him– was really the only thing lending this ‘tip’ any credibility. He didn’t have anything tangible and was banking on Kogoro being a little more cooperative about it on that basis.

“It would be irresponsible to ignore it.”

Kogoro nearly exploded. “Irresponsible? My god, man. It’s a fucking joke. That Kudou brat fucked off months ago and kids endanger themselves all the time. Suggesting Conan or any other brat his age had anything to do with either of them disappearing is ludicrous.”

Takagi steeled himself for the next part. “Mouri-san, won’t you please just answer a few questions about–”

“No, no, I don’t think you get it, Takagi-keiji,” Kogoro snapped. “I’m not answering any questions and I’m sure as hell not going to let you rope the kid into whatever illicit investigation you’ve got underway here.” He stole a glance at the one-way mirror off to their side. “Does the Inspector know about this?”

He didn’t answer.

Kogoro inhaled slowly and plucked the cigarette from his mouth, rolling the chewed filter between his fingers. “I urge you to reconsider this before you’re forced to live with the shame of chasing a false lead,” he warned.

The door slammed shut. The noise seemed to scare off the last of his daze.

Fingers on his temples, Takagi deliberated in silence before checking his phone again out of habit. There was an unread message from Shiratori.

FYI, Mouri-san’s going back. Said he ‘figured it out.’

Thanks for the heads-up , he thought bitterly.

Still feeling the shame of their conversation turned sour, he eventually slunk back to his desk with his head lowered, trying to make himself seem as small as possible. He thought he heard the usual hecklers call out for his attention but ignored them, marching steadfast against the crowd of more sensible people who knew when to call it a day and into the open room that housed his little corner of the world. He practically fell into his chair.

While he didn’t exactly have a window seat, he did have a respectable view of the street below and, as he sat there brooding, eventually caught a glimpse of Mouri-san and Conan-kun heading off in the direction of the nearest station.

One by one, his coworkers filed home as day faded into night. But he didn’t move, instead thinking of death in its infinite groanings, of disease and car accidents and six year-olds buried alive. Monsters snuffed out hope by turning man on their fellow man. Names disperse the fog of the unknown.

He picked up his phone, readied a notepad, and dialed.

I haven’t noticed anything myself, but I don’t see him as often as you might think, Agasa confessed. But if it helps, Detective, the children– Mitsuhiko-kun, Genta-kun, Ai–kun– seem to have been treating him differently ever since Ayumi-kun disappeared.

Interesting. Inspired by his statement, he thanked him for his time and hurriedly scrolled through his text history with Shiratori for a phone number.

Streaks of fire thinned into wisps of starlight as the sun finally retreated under the horizon.

Yes, Kobayashi confessed. He’s… changed.

How so? he pressed.

Well, for lack of a better word, he’s mean. Even worse– he knows it, and he doesn’t care if you know it, too.

Takagi thanked her for her time, too, and– perhaps subconsciously empathizing with her– apologized for her experience and wished her a good night.

He leaned back and idly observed the twinkling cityscape outside. Bribing the kids out to a group interview with free food wasn’t a bad idea… it might be difficult to arrange without tipping off Conan, but spending his lunch money on the children had the added benefit of keeping it from Shiratori-san.

He had one last number to call but, after the explosive afternoon, was hardly enthused to follow through. Still, he wanted to go home. Chiba-kun had been hyping up the wrestling finals all week, and though he had joked that the night of the match would end up being the night he’d need to pull overtime after an otherwise smooth week, he really had meant it as a joke. With lips pursed, his thoughts rumbling about how these calls never got any easier, he dialed the number.

After the longest ten seconds of his life, he finally heard the click of the receiver being picked up.

“Ah, Mouri-san! It’s T–”

“Kogoro-no-ojisan can’t come to the phone right now,” came an all-too familiar, sickly-sweet voice. “Can I take a message?”

A breath hitched in his throat. Subconsciously, his fingers hooked under his collar and began to loosen his tie while his brain scrambled for words. “...Conan-kun,” he managed.

“May I ask who’s calling?”

He exhaled slowly, careful to keep it quiet, suspicious he may have just been reciting lines on Kogoro’s instructions and that he was actually supervising him from nearby. “...Conan-kun, it’s Detective Takagi,” he tried. “Please put Mouri-san on the phone.”

“Kogoro-no-ojisan can’t come to the phone right now, Sergeant Takagi.”

“Fine,” he conceded. “Then tell him the MPD wants to ask him a few more questions about his connections to Yoshida Ayumi and Kudou Shinichi.”

A door shut somewhere in the background. Before he could get another word in, Conan’s tune changed on a dime.

“Little boy blue, come blow your horn,” he whispered. “The sheep’s in the meadow, the cow’s in the corn. But where is the boy, who looks after the sheep? He’s under a haystack, fast asleep.”

Takagi wrinkled his nose and exhaled sharply, this time hoping it would be audible on the other side.

“What did I tell you earlier?” Conan scowled, speaking freely now. “This is a fool’s errand. Stop now before you have to–” he giggled– “ live with the shame of chasing a false lead. ”

False lead… had he been listening to their conversation–

He yelped at the sudden, unmistakable sensation of something wet in his ear. Startled, he tugged at the cord so hard the whole unit jumped a foot closer to him, its illuminated keypad taunting him like eyes in the dark. A rough grimace turned his face. The office had emptied out hours ago, but it didn’t stop him from glaring daggers at the surrounding desks, the receiver awkwardly held at arm’s length as if he were holding a snake.

Once the adrenaline wore off, he brought the phone back under the light of his desk lamp for closer examination. But it was dry… and so was his face. Had he imagined it?

He padded his temple with a finger and felt his way down to his evening stubble. Nothing.

Anxiously, he placed his ear to the receiver again, fully expecting another assault on his senses, but was instead met with the droning monotone of a disconnected line. Perplexed, he hastily shoved the phone back into its cradle.

He… What the fuck?

Muscle memory took the wheel. He switched off his light, slouched in his chair, and gazed slack-jawed into the darkness above him, tired eyes adjusting to an unenviable view of the drop ceiling.

In a moment of desperation, he briefly considered hitting redial to see if he’d get Mouri-san this time. It crossed his mind he might be a little nuts.

Maybe he’d be better off just starting over tomorrow.

#writing #dcmk #evil conan au #fanfic #wataru takagi #queue

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qqueenofhades · 11 months ago

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thank you for your post i’m doing my best to stay informed on the conflict and i’m very young. i feel guilty being quiet as i understand to uplift voices helps prevent their silencing but this has lead me to not critically think about what i’m spreading

it’s been a long month. i’m only a kid and watching the world go to shit like this has been awful, I always wondered how millennials who lived through post nine eleven imperialism coped and god i’m still not sure how.

I am as a white gentile in a position of privilege and mostly my own person is unaffected by the uptick in violence and evil in the world right now. But my friends who i see every day are in more danger due to this conflict and i feel awful that i cannot ever fully understand or fix the deaths of people.

Right now I’m being a bit too reactionary. I’m doing my best but in the end I am not immune to fearmongering and propoganda, especially in these last couple sleepless weeks.

So thank you and everyone who is keeping level heads and desconstructing what’s happening. I’m sorry and i strive to be better. Thank you.

To anyone living in fear right now i’m so sorry. I will listen when you speak.

Once again I just want to say that I am a busy and uninformed student, and I wish that i had more teachers and authority figures that had objective facts to tell me. It’s suffocating to have fake news everywhere but feel powerless if you don’t know anything

it’s ok if you don’t respond to this

Thank you for your post

Thanks for this message and for taking the time to put it into words and to reflect on your own actions and rhetoric. It takes a lot of courage and self-awareness to admit that you were wrong and that you want to do better, and I'm not going to rip into you or blame you or otherwise shame you for it. So I hope this gives you the confidence to read on without feeling like you'll be raked over the coals for it, and open you to hear some ideas for doing things differently.

First, I do have a ton of sympathy for you as a young person who feels overwhelmed and exhausted by all the evil in the world, and is wondering how to get through it, react to it, or otherwise make some kind of moral response in the face of this soul-crushing trauma. I will say here that I am a little bit older than your average Tumblr user (the majority of this site is in their early-mid twenties), I do personally remember 9/11 and its aftermath when a lot of people here weren't even born yet, and I am an academic historian with a doctorate. That does not mean I am better or smarter or More Perfect or whatever at what I say, but it means that I do have a considerable amount of institutional, formal, and professional practice at analyzing a lot of complex information, putting it into words, breaking it down for less-specialist audiences, pointing out logical fallacies, and so forth.

That is not a skill that everyone has, and in the face of nonstop 24-hour news-cycle social media information overload, it can be incredibly difficult to parse it or understand how you're supposed to respond to it or what your moral obligation in response to this knowledge might be. I wrote this ask the other day in response to someone else asking how to improve their critical thinking skills and be more discerning about what they understood, shared, and analyzed. I strongly encourage you to read it, as it addresses a lot of what you're saying about feeling negative, depressed, panicked, angry, and all the other emotions that are naturally evoked in you from reading this stuff nonstop and feeling like the only thing you can (or should) do is immerse your brain in it at all times. In short, that is absolutely the worst environment to do actual substantial analysis or critical thinking, and it is designed so on purpose.

It has been said before, but it bears repeating: the human brain simply is not designed to be constantly aware of all the atrocities in the world and thus (thanks to social media) feeling as if the only way they can do anything about it is to then post the Correct Opinions on social media (regardless of whether these are informed or relevant or otherwise useful). Especially now, the rush to demonstrate Correct Thinking has warped a lot of otherwise well-meaning young people into becoming eager disinformation mouthpieces. There are a TON of explicitly bad-faith actors and far-right fascists who are posting pro-Palestine content (factual or uh, otherwise) because they know that's an instant way to get an audience of said young left-leaning people who will then be suckered into and exposed to their far more dangerous content and mindset, because that is how radicalization works. Even in the support of an obviously worthy cause, you and everyone else ARE NOT IMMUNE to fearmongering, disinformation, and virulently anti-Semitic propaganda, especially when it's being eagerly and constantly offered in a deliberate attempt to radicalize you further into violence and conspiracy theories, turn you against other vulnerable groups and people, and explicitly disengage you from the electoral/political process, which will harm the Democrats and other liberal establishment parties in favor of more far-right radical fascist theocrats and otherwise make everything, everywhere, many orders of magnitude worse.

I know the feeling that you need to do something, and since you're a long way from the conflict, it seems as if posting on social media is the best and/or the only way to go about it. In that environment, and especially right now, you will make mistakes. I know it is difficult in an online environment where popularity or acceptance by your peers often rests on never being wrong about anything (i.e. saying the same thing everyone else is saying), but it always helps to think about what you're doing, what you're saying, and if you actually need the approval of people who are conditioning you, implicitly or explicitly, into negative and violent ideological nihilism.

The hardest thing to understand is that yes, there is a lot of terrible shit going on in the world; no, you cannot personally fix it and you have to accept that as a limitation; yes, there are many multiple and complex causes and reasons for its existence and there is almost never a black-and-white simplistic moral solution that just hasn't been magically implemented yet; yes, it is always worth it to take the time to inform yourself and consider what you're saying, where it comes from, who it helps and who it hurts, and why you feel the need to say it in the first place. Of course you want to help. Of course you want to stop the needless suffering and death that has gone on in the world for millennia and unfortunately, as long as humans are humans, will continue to do so. But even so, take it away Gandalf:

#anonymous #ask

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degloved · 1 year ago

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i'm about to sound like a john apologist but i need you all to look past that first impression and consider this post as written by a john understander. it sort of ties into what i said here, also.

the reason amanda was tested again in saw iii wasn't because john lacked love for her, it was precisely because he loved her beyond "rational" bounds. she was tested because she was loved. that's all there is to it. this absolutely isn't normal in any circumstances other than theirs and if someone irl is putting you in saw traps they probably Don't love you btw. but with john being the way he is... or was, rather, it must be the other way around. think about this: no one has ever gotten more than one (non-rigged) test; no one has ever enjoyed the privilege of quite so many second chances. no one has ever had john praying they'd pass/succeed.

john relentlessly testing her was the equivalent of your bff taking her gross bf back even after the 7th time he's cheated just bc he promised it'd be different this time, and you're rolling your eyes bc you know better, but she's in love and deluded. not that john was. in love. sorry. you get my meaning. he was so desperate to balance his fucked up little belief system with the genuine care he felt for amanda. he was continually at a crossroads, struggling not to stray away from the jigsaw ideology (bc if he did, he'd have nothing at all except blood on his hands up to the wrists and some tough pills to swallow) and trying even harder to find a loophole that'd allow him to keep amanda around despite the fact that the aforementioned ideology very clearly would not permit her a place in this world.

(john is its god and its disciple and the disciple pleading with the god and the god denying that plea.) picture a heartbroken owner trying every avenue just to avoid putting down their dog with bite history.

and amanda did deserve better is the thing. she did deserve better than to be loved by a fucking serial killer, because no one else could, and she did deserve better than being inadvertently killed by the very same serial killer, she deserved so much better in every sense! but the fact remains that better has never been in the cards for her; she got the most bottom-of-the-barrel love there is, she got the most worthless, useless, dangerous, thankless love there is. but it is love. was love. do you get me

#i am johnbiased though sorry. sorry. sorry #its just. well. you see. at some point you sort of cross a line and look past the jigsaw mask and see john and and and and #you cross that line and this is the sort of posts you start making #saw #john kramer #amanda young #n #thinkpieces

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fireemblems24 · 1 year ago

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Scarlet Blaze Ch 11

Sorry this is taking forever, but here's ch 11.

MAIN STORY

Oh, shit, do we have to fight Gilbert next? AND ANNETTE? This suuukkkkks. It especially sucks since you know they didn't have a choice but to risk their lives just defending themselves.

Annette is so precious. Fuck. I don't want to fight her.

Gilbert being a good daddy though 😭😭😭😭

At least CF was entertaining. SB is a giant snoozefest where I have to kill all my favorites.

Man, they all sound like psychopaths. They're all super excited to go kill people who are just defending themselves. Even Dorothea's only worried about marriage.

MAP/SIDE STUFF

Shez just said that everyone who gets killed in the war "is standing in our way." Imagine comparing self-defense to "getting in our way." Yikes for that characterization compared to how concerned GW!Shez is about Claude's aggressive decisions.

Lamo, Mercedes is like wtf am I doing here fighting the Kingdom and Annie?

Aww, Marianne (and Dorothea) are like the only two who realize they're fighting other people and not just being all murder happy like the rest.

Dimitri just got put on par with Holst and Caspars dad by Balthis, kind of, unofficially best Kingdom warrior?

We're addressing the Ferdinand and Hubert subplot again. Which is good. It's by far the most interesting part of SB. Though, it's just a repeat of what we've seen from it before.

Ok, they're adding some different stuff which is interesting. Bringing up that even if Fredie's dad tried to retire and stay out of Edelgard's way, that he would still have to die because of what he symbolizes. Hubert and Ferdinand disagree on whether people like Mr. Aegir can get a second chance (as in, can you when you've become a symbol).

This is especially interesting to me in regards to what happens to Rhea, Dimitri, and Claude if they surrender to Edelgard and become her puppets. Basically, Hubert is saying that, no matter what, they'd have to die because anyone who would rebel would use (fill in here) as a symbol of their resistance. Claude may be the sole exception here because he can scoot off to Almyra, but it's very obvious that Rhea and Dimitri (and their staunch allies) are fighting for their lives, because even if we're generous and say Edelgard would spare them and give them life worth living (i.e. not locked up), Hubert would most certainly have them assassinated.

Which also brings up another point. People always talk about how it's wrong/bad for Dimitri to try and spare Edelgard at the end of AM because what kind of life would she live? But always praise Edelgard for trying to spare Rhea towards the end of CF but no one - not a single soul - asks what kind of life would Rhea live? I gotta make my own post about that.

SB is really gonna be - kill yo dad, the route. Ironic since I played this the day after Father's Day.

I have to fight Sylvain 😭

SHEZ & MANUELA A SUPPORT

Manuela is flirting with Shez lol. He said he liked her voice and she pushed him with like "is that all" until he talked about her looks lamo

Aww, Shez actually likes her hungover side. Saying he likes warrior her, singer her, healer her, and drunk her. That's kinda cute, actually

Shez said that he can't keep his eyes off her. Laying it on a bit thick. And said she's more attractive now than she was younger haha.

Yeah, Shez, I have no idea how she was supposed to see that in any other way lol.

HUBERT & LYSITHEA B SUPPORT

Hubert finds Lysithea studying at night and teases her about ghosts. She runs away.

The Imperial Army is a bunch of children who don't want to eat their veggies. This is 100% cannon. Hubert orders guards to sneak them into soups for the soldiers actually get their veggies. I cannot. (though, imagine the privilege, Faerghus could never)

Lysithea freaks out because she ate veggies.

Veggies are legitimately delicious though. I don't know what the Imperial Army's problem is.

EDELGARD & MONICA A SUPPORT

Guys, I'm so excited. A Monica support. I wonder what she'll talk about.

Monica counts how many times Edelgard worried about her and invited her to tea. I just . . . no.

This support was pure cringe.

I love how "Kingdom bad" because they're willing to die to defend their homes, family, friends, and everything and anything else they've loved from invaders, but Monica is to be admired because she's oh so loyal to Edelgard that even in when Edelgard leaves her for dead, it's a happy moment for Monica because it helps Edelgard's cause. Like . . . double standard much?

PETRA & CONSTANCE C SUPPORT

Constance is something else. She confronts Petra because Petra's dad invaded and it led to the demise of Constance's everything.

I enjoy supports that address conflict, but girl, that was not Petra's fault. Don't take it out on her.

Oh, good, she's not. She recognizes that Petra's people suffered, and that neither of them were involved, so there's no bad blood.

Then she hahahas and leaves. Lamo, this made me love Constance.

Petra doesn't get a chance to say she agrees and seeks out Constance, but finds her in the sunlight, and needlessly to say, is very confused.

MAIN BATTLE

Hubert and Edelgard just said submit or die.

Wow, Linhardt is like I wish the nobles would think about all the people who they're forcing to fight. The lack of self-awareness is astounding.

Ferdinand can join the "lack of self-awareness club" for acting like it's the Kingdom causing the violence.

Baron Dominic opened the gate, risking his defenses to rescue soldiers. Hubert judged him. But we're supposedly the good guys. I swear the writing goes out of it's way to make the Kingdom look good.

Fuck. I have to fight Gustave :( He dead :( Poor Annette.

FUCK. Now I have to fight Annette.

Fuck this route. Ingrid, Rodrigue, Gustave, and now Annette - all dead.

Even Baron Dominic's death is making me sad. None of the Empire generals get this kind of humanization when they die lol.

Edelgard and Hubert sound insane. Edelgard's acting like their deaths were inevitable because of their lineage (when they would've been just fine if not for her actions), and Hubert's like he's happy to die so it doesn't matter. What a bunch of looney tunes.

Edelgard just said whoever wins gets to decide what's right. I mean, victors do write the history but yikes at the implications.

So deep - "we're up against the world itself." Sounds like a teenage edge-lord wrote this lamo.

We got crusher. Joy. Did they pry it out of Annette's dead hands?

Oh, joy, more backtracking. Revolts in the Empire. I thought we were out of the backtracking era and into kill every Blue Lion era.

xxxx

#fire emblem #scarlet blaze #fire emblem three hopes #three hopes #scarlet blaze spoilers

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wri0thesley · 1 year ago

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I am so sorry if this is invasive and weird, but may I ask what you work as? I'm at the stage where I have to build my future and I know you don't have an age specified but you seem to be doing really well (at least from the posts we've seen, again I really hope not to be invasive) for yourself and your partner and 25+ is still young! Again, I hope this isn't mean or weird, I'm just curious. (and severely nervous. First year of college is ruining me harder than any fictional man.)

ahh anon i'm afraid that the answer is probably not what you're looking for!

for the record, i am 27, i just find getting fandom older a little scary, especially having it listed right there!!!

i actually intended to be a performer and a singing teacher (my degree was going to be in music & musical theatre); unfortunately, due to a plethora of reasons (mostly my undiagnosed autism, unmedicated ocd/depression/anxiety combo, a nervous breakdown and my partner's physical health declining) i dropped out of my degree before the end of my first semester.

for about three years or so after that i was severely agoraphobic. talking 'can't answer the door' agoraphobic; 'never left the house alone, and even when with someone only went to the doctors and therapy' agoraphobic, 'rotted in my bedroom in an absolutely non romanticised way' agoraphobic. i was on the equivalent of disability because i literally could not function. meanwhile, my partner, who lived with me and my parents was getting physically worse whilst i was mentally struggling (since then haz has been diagnosed with ehlers danlos syndrome, fibromyalgia, lipoedema, thyroid issues and a lot of other things; they have a lot going on). i DID access several therapies, had . . . a couple of very bad relapses, went under crisis teams and all of that stuff (i had occupational therapy too which was HONESTLY i think one of the most useful things and helpful things for me in the long run; i cannot imagine what i would be like if i hadn't had the occupational therapist the crisis team found for me).

(coincidentally, if you are an og jojo follower you probably remember how bad it was; i've said it a hundred times, but running this silly little reader-insert blog probably helped save my life at a time when i had almost no contact with the outside world. i couldn't leave my bedroom, but i had my blog and i had my little internet friends and discord server).

i have gotten a lot better.

haz, unfortunately, has not gotten better physically and probably never will. they need help with a lot of things most people don't even realise disabled people might need help with. brushing their hair, fastening clothes . . . when haz first moved in, they were doing the same dance-intensive college course that i was. we danced maybe three or four hours a day. nowadays, haz needs me to hold their hand and keep them steady when they go from our bed to the bathroom (the room next door).

so i don't really 'work' as anything. well, my therapist would tell me off for saying that; the uk government classes me as an 'unpaid carer', which basically means i am on call for haz literally 24/7 and they pay me the pittance that is carer's allowance (carer's allowance assumes you care at least 35 hours a week, and pays you the privilege of about 45 pence per each of those hours. if, like me, you live with the person you care for and do more than those hours, it gets . . . yeah. oof. the government unfortuately know that most unpaid carers are loved ones and family members of the person who needs care and won't just stop doing it, and they'd be in the shit if we did because trained carers are expensive, so they can get away with that - FUCK the tories, honestly.

i am EXCEEDINGLY lucky that i live in a cheap area of the uk, that haz and i are internet savvy enough to be able to access carers/disability discounts, that we are in rent-controlled social housing (which my crisis team helped find for us because living with my parents was taking such a toll on us both, woo!!!!), and that we've been able to access services to help on the nhs. i got my autism assessment and diagnosis; haz is under several pain management teams.

all in all, i'm happy. i'm so much happier than i was seven years ago when i'd dropped out of university and felt like a huge failure, because all of my life i was a gifted overachiever and i thought my self-worth was tied to my academic achievements (and as an extension, what roles i got in what shows and when and who saw me and so on). i don't have a lot of money (i am a bargain shopped fgbnkjgjnfb) but i know what i like and because i'm Older Now (tm) i've amassed collections of it.

i am absolutely sure that you'll boss college, anon! that you will find that thing that works for you (one day i would LOVE to go back and get my degree! pre-covid i had an acceptance for a creative writing degree and i was getting ready to go back to uni as a mature student, but haz's health got bad again and then covid happens - and now ofc i have my autism diagnosis i can access so much more help!). but even if you don't, you can absolutely find happiness without 'traditional' success.

i don't have a lot in the grand scheme of things. but you're right in that i am doing pretty well, in terms of where i am, and where i've been. i have my own little home. i have my partner of ten years who is my soulmate in every conceivable way. i've had experiences that make me feel so happy i sometimes cry when i remember them. i have my own little cat now!!! things still stress me out. but i have come so so far and when i feel down i remember that.

good luck anon! i believe in you <3

#nat.txt

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kikufuku01 · 2 years ago

Text

I Love You, Always

Sukuna x Reader

Part 11 Toxic in You ♡♡♡ Part 12 Taste of Your Tears series m. list

Reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated!

Warnings: Angst, alcohol and weed intake, violence

Taglist is open, just message me if you'd like to be tagged in upcoming posts! Must be 18+!

A/N: Also, idk if tumblr. updated or changed, but in my last post, I've tried tagging some accounts and it won't show at the bottom when I view in the app but if I go to a safari page, the tags will show. So if I tag in this post and it doesn't show, I'm truly sorry!

You’re a wuss. Kaede will be here at any moment, and you really don’t want her to see you like this. You can already picture it. She’ll come here all bright and bubbly, see the mess that you are, feel the horrible vibes and catch on to what’s been going on. You don’t need another person going off on you, so you need to book it. Just standing here has you shaking in what, exactly. Anger? Fear?

You take a good look at what he’s wearing. Sukuna has always dressed up in street fashion, but there’s something slightly different to him. Maybe you’re overanalyzing it, but there’s a touch of Kaede to him. Is that weird? The more you think about it, the more everything just falls into place. There’s something going on for sure, so, while Sukuna’s back is turned to you, you take the chance and run as fast as you can. You don’t bother to look back, and you don’t have to, because unlike before, there aren’t a second pair of feet running after you anymore. Another thing to feel sad about, but that’s okay.

You’re trying to empty your head as you run down streets and alleys, not caring where your feet take you. Your vision is so blurred that it’s hard to see, but you’ve managed to maneuver just fine up until now.

“Oof!”

Both you and the person you’ve bumped into let out the same noise and he quickly reaches out to stabilize you, “careful there.”

Fucking great. Are you stuck in hell or something?! Why do you keep running into people you don’t want to see?

When the man takes a closer look at you, he pouts, “oh, it’s you, angel face. Don’t tell me you’re drunk again, it’s barely seven.”

He checks the time on his phone once more - just to make sure, and then nods at you, “you okay there?”

“I’m fine,” you respond, trying to sound firm.

How did you even manage to bump into this dude? In this area?

You take a closer look at your surroundings, “why are you here?”

Satoru hums a little, “just closed up my shop not too long ago. I was planning to hang out with a few friends, but I think you need some company.”

“Oh no, it’s fine. Go on with your day.”

You dab away the welling tears with your hands as you try to walk past him, but he grabs at your forearm, “come on, angel face. I know a sad face when I see one.”

There isn’t any strength left in you to resist, so you let Satoru drag you to a parking garage. Your eyes light up a bit at the sight of him moving towards a motorcycle.

“You know how to ride?”

Satoru’s grin grows wider, “I wouldn’t have one if I didn’t know how.”

A soft scoff-like laugh comes out at his answer, “true but,” you poke at his back, “rich people like you like to buy everything for show.”

Satoru feigns offense and swats your hand away sassily, “excuse me, but you come from a family of money too. You’re quite privileged, aren’t you?”

“Whatever.”

He sits on the motorcycle and hands you the helmet, “you’re gonna need it more than me.”

You accept the helmet but stay standing, “don’t you need it? What about your eyes?”

Satoru pulls out a pair of goggles from his jacket and giggles like a child, “nah, I got these babies right here. Hop on, I’m hungry.”

You must admit, the start of the ride was a bit scary. At first, you refused to hold him tightly in case you’d end up hurting him, but he insisted you hold on for dear life unless you had a death wish. As a joke, you loosened up your hold even more, causing him to scoff.

“Girl, I don’t have time to bury you. This stomach is hungry,” he shouts over the wind.

You hold his waist tightly with one arm and stretch out the other to feel the velocity of the wind, “just dump me in a ditch or something!”

Right at that moment, Satoru makes a sharp turn around the corner and it makes you squeal whilst your other arm wraps around his waist to keep you from falling. He shrugs, “after I eat, then!”

The thrill of the ride is quite exciting. It made it easier to forget about what had just happened, and you’re thankful towards Satoru for that. He ends up taking you to a convenience store; not that you mind. He mindlessly pushes out the kickstand with his foot and hops off, turning around to help you get off as well. You both enter, not paying any mind to the employee who greets you.

“Pick out anything you want,” Satoru says in a candy sweet tone as he zooms through the aisles.

You don’t pick much, opting for cup ramen and some onigiri. After settling in the seats, you both begin to dig in.

“Sorry I didn’t bring ya somewhere fancy. I was craving this way before I bumped into you.”

“I don’t mind, thanks for paying.”

He takes a bite out of his sausage stick and focuses on the people outside that pass by, “so, you wanna tell me why you were running and crying?”

You sigh, “not really. It’s a long, long story.”

His head tilts to the side as he speaks, “yanno, I haven’t known you for a while but it’s kinda easy to see through you. Instead of making things harder for yourself, why don’t you just talk about it?”

Then his judgy little eyes narrow on you, “don’t tell me you got a kink for pain.”

“Course not,” you laugh, “I wouldn’t even know.”

You take the chance to slurp up your noodles while he continues to stuff his face with savory junk. He swallows the mixed mush of food, “I’m always open ears, if you need it. We’re friends, right?”

My gosh… the ptsd of those words right now. Kazuya pops up into your mind once again and the little appetite that you had has now subsided. Satoru notices your gloomy mood but chooses to keep quiet. He’ll wait for you to talk. Will you take the bait?

“You said you’re close to Sukuna?”

Well, you took the bait, but it’s not what he expected to hear. He sticks his tongue out, “indeed.” He points towards your cup ramen, “you gonna finish that?”

“It’s yours.”

You lazily slide the ramen towards him, “have you hung out with him recently?”

Ahhh, maybe this is going in the direction he wants. Satoru giggles and holds his chin, acting as if he’s thinking, “here and there. Kaede’s always there too.”

He sees the way your eyes light up at her name and continues, “I kept asking about you, but they said you were busy. To be honest, I thought you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

Both of your palms lay flat against the tabletop and you can’t help but openly show your true expression, a soft grimace, “wow, you’re really stupid.” You tap his shoulder twice, “only you would be worried over something so trivial.”

Satoru’s jaw hangs open, “that’s rich coming from you.” He shakes his head though and laughs aloud, “why are you asking?”

You’re sick of being speechless. Your left leg is bouncing so fast under the table due to your nerves that you’re afraid Satoru will make fun of you, however, that’s not what should concern you. You drop all of your current waves of emotion and stare at him with dead eyes.

“How do they interact, Sukuna and Kaede?”

This time Satoru does take a minute to respond, as he’s digging deep in his brain to remember each and every interaction. When he’s done searching, he leans on one fist, “they’re kind of playful, maybe like…” he drags out the last word but then chirps up again, “like the day we all met! The haunted house, if you remember. Though they’re a little more playful, other than that, they don’t do anything different from usual.”

Tap… tap… tap…

The sound of your nail taps against the table. Suddenly you feel everything too much. The air conditioning in here is too high and the goosebumps rise on your forearms, the noodles you had were too salty and now you’ve got a bitter taste in your mouth. Like a nightmare, you see the vision of them dancing closely in the club and your heart tightens.

“Are you sure?”

His icy eyes scan over you while his mouth falls to a small ‘o’ shape, “do you know something I don’t?”

Alright, maybe he’s just oblivious, or could it be that Sukuna and Kaede have only recently started acting like that with each other. You force yourself to smile at him, “nevermind what I asked, I’ve been occupied.”

“Oh, that's right!”

Satoru beams brightly at you and leans over, getting all up in your face with his crazy beautiful eyes, “you had a friend that you were talking to. Sukuna didn’t mention him too much, but Kaede gossiped like crazy. It was as if a kettle had broken and all the tea came spilling out.”

This catches your attention and you furrow your brows at him, all while placing both hands on his shoulders to push him back for personal space, “what kind of gossip?”

He sassily waves his hand around as he says, “well, nothing bad, just that you were too busy with your friend, Kazuya–” he cuts himself off to get in your face again, a funny grin on his lips, “to hang out with us!”

“Please,” you end up laughing at his silliness and shove him away again, “I’m sure you had fun either way. And besides…”

You don’t know why you’re about to tell him this. It could be because you need someone to vent to. You blow a few raspberries, “I let him go.”

This is where Satoru is a liiittle confused. He wears a thin smile while his eyes ask for more information.

“Kazuya, I mean. I couldn’t continue with him– and please don’t make me feel like shit for it. I already feel horrible, so please don’t comment.”

“I won’t,” Satoru shifts in his seat, “jeez, I didn’t bring you here to judge you. What kind of man do you think I am?!”

You give him a pout, “I’m sorry, it’s just been a rough day. Do you think you can take me home?”

After helping him to clean his trash, he crosses his arms and looms over you, “that depends. Are you gonna hang on or?”

You sock his arm gently and laugh louder than intended, “please shut up.”

♡ ♡ ♡

Ugh, what a headache. Sukuna hasn’t talked to you since that last incident. Neither of you bothered to reach out and that was fine with him. Anyway, what’s up with everyone being late these days? Satoru’s dumb ass didn’t even bother to shoot him a text and now he looks like an alcoholic, buying all this booze for what. When he’s done, he goes back home and lounges on the living room couch with music blaring through expensive speakers.

He waits for another twenty minutes before he finally hears his doorbell and he buzzes him in through the gate from inside. In walks the joke of a man that he is (he’s kidding), round circular glasses hanging on his nose bridge, his hair down loose, an oversized black tank and some sweatpants.

“Sorry, traffic.”

What a shit lie.

Sukuna glares halfheartedly, “shut the fuck up, Satoru.”

The white-haired friend rolls his eyes in annoyance and plops down beside him, “you guys are so mean, you know that?”

He shoves Satoru away from him and sits up straight, “who?”

At the same time, Satoru nudges him, “who else?! You and y/n, for crying out loud. Y’all are always telling me to ‘shut up.’ You shut up!”

Y/n… he doesn’t want to think of you, but it’s kind of hard not to with Satoru yapping away about you. He decides to cut Satoru short, “wanna smoke?”

“Alright,” Satoru agrees.

They sit together with no words, only choosing to listen to the song that plays. Satoru’s head begins to bounce along, “what song is this?”

“Soulchef - Write this Down x Dead wrong. It’s a remix.”

Sukuna skillfully rolls a joint and hands it to him with a stone face. Satoru brings the joint to his lips and lights it, breathing out a puff of smoke. He decides to be a little greedy at first, choosing to take another three puffs before eventually passing it back.

“Let’s drink too,” Satoru sings.

This isn’t a new occurrence. It’s something they do every here and there, just that today, it’s only them two, no one else. They don’t bother to dine first, instead choosing to drown themselves in the bitter beverage and hazy smoke.

Truthfully, Sukuna and Satoru have lost track of time. They’ve been drinking for a while now and they’re probably on their third joint. Yeah, not a really wise choice, but Sukuna felt like he needed it. While he’s seeing tunnel vision, Satoru takes it upon himself to bring you up again, for his own entertainment, of course.

“I ran into y/n not too long ago.”

“Cool.”

That’s it? That’s all he spits out? Where did all the possessiveness go? It’s a question Satoru easily knows the answer to, but it still amazes him how stupid you two are. He tries again, “yup, I let her ride on my motorcycle and then we ate together.”

Sukuna groans to himself, feeling an ounce of irritation at the mention of your name, but he still manages to respond, “where?”

“Convenience store.”

“Pffft!” Sukuna cannot help but laugh out loud. In fact, his laugh is so loud that it echoes all throughout downstairs. It startles Satoru momentarily but he quickly recovers, “what’s wrong with quick food?”

Sukuna snickers, his mood a little delirious due to his haze, “why didn’t you get her something real to eat?”

Satoru clicks his tongue at him and chugs the rest of his beer, “what does it matter, she still ate.” He snatches the joint from Sukuna’s fingers and takes a long inhale, filling his lungs and holding it for as long as he can before releasing. “Anyway,” he continues, rubbing his nose as he does so, “she asked me about you and Kaede.”

“She did?”

That’s probably the quickest that Sukuna has responded all night. He cocks his head towards Satoru, “why did she ask?”

Since Satoru is feeling lazy and wants to bask in this bliss, he’ll hurry up and get this over with. With another click of his tongue, he speaks, “I dunno, maybe because she hasn’t been around much? She also stopped seeing her friend, Kazuya too. Oh, and I forgot to mention, she looked like she needed a pat on the back.”

He huffs a sigh, “her eyes were puffy as fuck.”

Sukuna has no idea why Satoru feels the need to spill every single detail, but he just goes along. At first, he’s fine with what he said, until he rethinks about it. Did he just say you stopped seeing Kazuya? That’s right, that’s exactly what he said. But why is he bothered? It’s not like it matters now.

While Satoru is dazed in his own world, Sukuna reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a baggie. It contains three little pills. Correction, three little happy pills that take him away from reality. His eye flicks towards Satoru and then back to the plastic bag as he ponders whether he should take it or not. He’s already crossfaded, so he should probably put it away. The moment Satoru’s head turns towards him, he quickly slips it back into his pocket and acts as if nothing happened.

“Let’s invite Kaede and y/n,” Satoru suggests with a slur.

He shakes his head, “nah. Kaede’s on a family trip.”

Satoru smirks slyly, “and y/n?”

“No clue.”

“Man,” Satoru lures, “what happened with you guys? One second you’re inseparable and the next, you’re worlds apart.”

Sukuna’s jaw clenches and the urge to become violent is on a very thin line. He’s still mad at you. He’s very angry at you. How dare you prance around and act as if it is you who is hurt. The more he thinks about you, the more upset he becomes.

He sends Satoru an icy glare and pops open a new can of bear, “drop it.”

Satoru’s hands come flying up in less than a second and he backs off with a dopey grin. He starts again, “then, what are you and Kaede? You guys seem closer than before.”

“We aren’t anything,” Sukuna confirms, his frown growing deeper.

The white-haired male sends him a sugary smile, but his tone drops to something of seriousness, “y/n seems to think otherwise~”

“That’s her problem.”

Satoru pushes himself off the couch so that he can lean in Sukuna’s direction; so that he can look Sukuna right in his face, “is it now?”

He lifts his left leg and lays it over Sukuna’s thigh, acting as annoying as he possibly can, “think I don’t know about your lovely little wallpaper? You’re not slick, Sukuna.”

Sukuna slaps his hand right above Satoru’s knee and he squeezes as hard as he can, getting an immediate reaction. Satoru’s face scrunches up as he screams, “that hurts, dude!”

“So get your ugly, lanky legs off of me, you blue-eyed freak.” He releases Satoru’s leg after shoving him off, “and quit snooping through my fucking phone.”

“I didn’t snoop!” Satoru retorts.

He snatches Sukuna’s drink and tastes it for himself, “I saw it a while ago. If she isn’t anything to you then you might as well change your wallpaper to something else.”

It’s funny how Sukuna can’t argue back. He doesn’t want to change it. If he does, it’ll be like he’s really letting go but he just can’t stop being angry with you. Every time Satoru mentions you, his ears itch and he feels like punching him for not listening. With one last glare, he takes his drink back, “shut the fuck up.”

♡ ♡ ♡

How long have they been slumped here? Seriously, it’s probably been like, hours. They aren’t crossfaded anymore and have had time to sober up, so Sukuna whips his phone out to stare at the time. This whole time, he couldn’t get stupid you out of his head. And yup, he’s made up his mind.

“You ready to leave any time soon?”

Satoru over exaggerates his frown while crossing his arms, “you are so rude. First you invite me here and now you’re kicking me out. What if I was still drunk?”

“Satoru.”

“Alright, alright, I got it.”

He stands up and huffs, “I’ll leave so you can sulk and marinate in negative feelings, you big ol’ grump!”

Sukuna laughs softly and grabs a couch pillow. He quickly tosses it and hits Satoru in the back of his head, but it hits him harder than he expects.

“Oh no you didn’t.”

Satoru spins around and quickly grabs the pillow. He throws it at the speed of light and hits Sukuna right in the face, “sucka~”

The door opens before Sukuna can get him back and he’s a bit upset that he didn’t get the last hit, but it’s whatever. Back to whatever was on his mind and ah, that’s right. He stands from the couch and marches up the stairs with his heavy feet. He kicks off his house slippers and enters his room.

Is he really gonna do this?

Sukuna sits on the edge of his bed to calm his racing mind. Sure, he’s sobered down, but is he really sure about this? He hunches over a bit and rubs his face with both his hands, “here we go.”

His heart drops with every step that he takes to his dresser but he chooses to ignore it. His fingers latch onto the handle and he hesitates, just for a second. It’s just a fucking necklace, what’s so hard about this? With that in mind, he yanks the drawer open and grabs the little silk bag. His thumb traces over the gold accents while his chest swells from the memory of you first giving it to him. Why did you guys have to become this way?

Sukuna shakes his head and opens the bag, takes the necklace out and then shoves it into his pocket. It’s almost nine, so he should hurry. It’d be faster to be driven to your house, but he prefers to walk. That way he can clear his mind and think it over again.

♡ ♡ ♡

Sukuna stares at your gate. He should really just turn around and leave you be but he’s already climbing over it. “Oof,” he lets out as he lands. There’s a sting to his ankles but he doesn’t care. Should he be more careful so that he’s not seen? Yes. Does he care right now? No.

He takes a closer look around and notes that the upstairs is completely dark, meaning no one is up there. He decides he’ll scope out the area a bit more, just in case you have company. Just as he thought, it’s almost completely silent. He’d question if you were even home, but the living room light is on, indicating you might be there.

Sukuna shoves his hand into his pocket and clutches the necklace one last time before making it back around to your bedroom window. Fuck. It’s locked. Okay, he should go home. Despite thinking that, his hands try it again, lifting as hard as possible.

“Damn it,” he growls, gently punching the glass.

He turns around to leave. One step, two steps, three steps. Sukuna freezes in place and then swivels back around. He marches towards your front door with quick steps and rings the doorbell not once, but four times. He can hear your bitching getting louder, which means you’re almost at the door.

“Who the fuck–”

Your voice dies down the moment your eyes make contact with him. What the hell is Sukuna doing here? Your eyes flutter quickly to make sure you’re not seeing things, but he isn’t disappearing. He’s really here.

Your mind blanks out momentarily, “why are you here?”

Sukuna ignores you and pushes past you to enter. After successfully getting by, he takes the door handle from your hand and closes it, locking it as quick as he can. Your dull eyes become filled with irritation when Sukuna starts walking towards your bedroom.

“Where the hell are you going?” you shout as you angrily follow after him.

He gently pushes your bedroom door open and walks in, his fingers flipping the lights on as soon as he can. Shit, his mind is racing as he’s doing all of this. He can barely make out what the hell you’re saying. While he stands near your bed, you stand near the door to keep your distance. Gosh, it’s always you. This fuels his anger once again and digs into his pants pocket.

Without warning, he angrily throws the item at you and your quick reflexes make you catch it. You don’t look at what he threw. Instead, you keep your cold glare, “what is this?”

“The necklace,” he coldly says.

Sukuna turns away from you, so that he can’t see your face, “I no longer need it.”

A sudden burst of energy flows through you and you squeeze the necklace in your palm while angrily stomping towards him. You raise your hand and throw the necklace right at his face, causing it to scratch his right cheekbone, making it bleed lightly.

“Ouch,” he flinches. Sukuna’s hand comes flying towards his face to touch the new wound, “what the fuck was that for?!”

There aren’t even tears in your eyes. You don’t feel sad, you don’t feel like crying at all. What you feel is just pure anger. Whatever you’ve bottled up in all these months just ends up exploding in both your faces.

“Fuck you!��

Sukuna bends down and swoops up the necklace from the floor. He dangles it in your face, “you just cut my face with the necklace!”

Your eye twitches as you shove his hand away from you, “throw it away! Why bother giving it back?!”

Sukuna furrows his eyebrows at you, “don’t you want it?” He looks at the trident with a soft gaze, “last I remember, you liked the necklace just as much.”

The situation right now isn’t funny at all, yet you can’t help but laugh out loud at him.

“You’re a fucking liar.”

The tone of your voice is laced with venom and Sukuna fucking hates it. The eyes that used to stare at you so softly now glare at you as if you’re a murderer, “how so?” he taunts.

“If you liked the necklace so much then why are you returning it? It obviously doesn’t mean shit to you, so throw it away. It’s just a piece of garbage anyway,” you sarcastically argue. You look at the necklace as it hangs from Sukuna’s hand and feel your heart break. At the end of the day, it is just a stupid necklace. One you paid a hefty sum for, sure, but still.

“Actually, give it.”

You snatch the necklace from his hands and spin around to toss it but Sukuna chases after you, “what are you doing?”

Your voice cracks as you answer him, “I might as well throw it out for you. That way you’ll feel less guilty about it, so get out of my face.”

Sukuna tries to take the necklace back, but you dodge him, “I didn’t want to throw it away, I wanted to give it back to you.”

Damn, now you can feel the tears welling up. This whole thing just irritates you even more so you’re prone to cry out of anger and frustration as you argue back.

“Well it’s trash, so I’m dumping it.”

Again, you shove past him. Sukuna is bigger than you in more than many ways, so he easily stops you and steps in front, “what’re you doing?” He tries to reach for the necklace again, “give it back if you don’t want it!”

When he can’t take it from you, he gets frustrated, “give it back, y/n!”

“Why should I?!”

“Because it’s mine!”

You scoff, “not anymore. Did you already forget?”

Your free hand comes to angrily poke at his chest, “are you stupid?” You jab at him again, “is it crack? Is it crack that you smoke?”

Sukuna thinks he might as well at this point. He grabs your wrist and holds it in place, “piss off.”

“You piss off, eyesore.”

Ouuu, he really wants to fucking hit someone or something. Eyesore? Him? You’ve gotta be kidding. All of this is mainly your fault, so how dare you get upset at him. He originally did all of this for you. You’re spiteful and full of jealousy. While he firmly holds your wrist in place, he inhales then exhales to calm himself, “why are you so mad?”

“Shut up,” you softly mutter.

Sukuna stays quiet so the both of you can calm down on your own. With all the shouting earlier, it’s clear as day that neither of your parents are home. He wasn’t completely sure before, but now he is; not that it matters. He sees that you’re still holding the necklace as tight as you can and it’s clear to him that you don’t plan to let go anytime soon.

“You’re jealous of Kaede. Admit it.”

Ugh, you’re so tired of talking in circles now. You look at him with tired eyes, “I am. I’m so greedily jealous, Sukuna.”

Why does a part of him spark up at that? He manages to keep his face the same, “and why is that, hm?”

“I just am.”

This makes Sukuna sigh, a heavy groan escaping his throat, “tell me the truth, be honest with yourself.”

Last time you said you liked him and now you can’t speak up? What the hell is wrong with you?

“What, can’t talk now?” he taunts, “you’re attracted to me, just fucking admit it.”

“I am attracted to you,” you plainly admit, “I’ve always been.”

Great, this is finally getting somewhere. Last time you spoke in circles, saying you didn’t know or this and that. His head dips down, “so why did it take you this long? Why did you wait until now?”

Because of Kaede and Kazuya. Because you don’t know what Kaede is to Sukuna. The tears finally spill out as you speak, “because I’m selfish and greedy.”

Sukuna’s turns to look at you and you do the same thing at the same time. Another tear falls, “because I want you all to myself, even when I don’t deserve you.”

“You’re right,” Sukuna monotonously says, “you don’t deserve me.”

It’s so stupid that your heart continues to shatter but you take advantage of Sukuna’s hold on your wrist loosening to pull your hand back, “I know that you like Kaede, but I just needed to let this out.”

Though it’s a shaky one, you try your best to smile, “let’s pretend like this never happened.”

You’re almost out the door but Sukuna isn’t having it. He takes big steps after you “fuck no, get your ass back here.”

Every memory with you flashes before his eyes and he remembers Satoru’s words. He said you stopped seeing Kazuya, right? Sukuna grabs your forearm, spinning you around and you gasp with the action.

“Sukuna, what’re you– mphh?!”

It happened so fast, the way his left hand reached for the back of your head, the way his right hand that held your forearm pulled you towards him and the way his soft lips clashed against yours while your body slammed against his. The moment you realized what had just happened, you began to pound and punch at his hard chest to no avail. When he finally released you, you backed up to catch your breath.

“What– why did you do that? Why did you kiss me?!”

His gaze softens at you, but his tone is still cold, “why are you acting so shocked? Why do you keep making a fool out of me? Don’t play with me, y/n.”

Your heart aches at the thought of Kaede and what she’ll think of you, and you hate yourself for enjoying the thrilling rush of his kiss.

“I’m not! I was just admitting my jealousy–”

Sukuna cuts you off, “you’re in love with me, y/n.”

He takes another step towards you, “you aren’t jealous in a platonic way. Don’t tell me you’re a toxic lover.”

“I–”

“There’s only one way to find out, sweetheart.”

No. Why does your heart pound faster when he says this? You glance at him with tearfilled eyes, “then what about Kaede?”

Sukuna hates how your voice quivers. He hates that you keep bringing her up. He raises his hands and wipes your tears away while whispering, “what about her? She’s not you.”

@lucyrocks86 @mykyoon @hxlalokidottir @wo-ming-bai @adoraspace @yourusernames

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