#(I mean. it could still become out of date if I simply decide to return half of these unread. but that will probably still take longer)

[televinita]

You know what it's been far too long since we did? (that's right a reading triage)

Now that my library account is all clean & current, and I had even gotten it down to a mere seven checkouts (3 of which are ready to return once I finished my review), and was starting to look at books I own again...naturally, I celebrated by stopping at 3 locations in a day and attempting to check out the weight of a medium-sized dog in fresh titles.

Not to quote The Floor, but...let's look at my options. (in no particular order)

ROMANCE

1. Next To You - Hannah Bonam-Young: I actually read half of this one outside before I even came home today, but I'm including it anyway because I find her writing style very enjoyable, even though this is my least favorite so far because I don't love the female main character.

2. Sweeten the Deal - Katie Shepard: how has it been almost a YEAR since I read (& loved) the first book in this series of interconnected standalones. I must have more of this delicious brand. ...but maybe I should wait for when I'm less dangerously close to burning out on romance? It's just this was one of the last two I had in my possession before today's Extravaganza.

3. Housebroke - Jaci Burton: an entirely random checkout that is probably gonna be 3 stars, but also features an FMC with 5 foster dogs who is temporarily between homes and relying on the kindness of the guy who just bought the house of the people who'd been letting her stay in it. So!

4. Pickleballers - Illana Long: this one is even more likely to be 3 stars (its Goodreads average is so low omg), but also, maybe it's just kind of fun? Whatever! I've heard of this one before and it was there so I grabbed it!

5. Right on Cue - Falon Ballard: I really liked Lease on Love and this is the one on her backlist that intrigues me 2nd-most, so as long as it was on my For Later library list and checked in... it's low priority, though. because, again, fear of burnout = I prioritize the books I wouldn't mind having a 3-star-average time with.

YA

6. Begin Again - Emma Lord: this is not the first time I've checked this YA out, but it is the time of year in which I'd like to read it, based mainly on the cover colors (it's just giving such strong "what if Annie actually transferred after season 1 of Community" vibes), so on the pile it went.

7. The Start of Me & You - Emery Lord: same with this one. I almost started this one today instead of Next To You, because it was such a sunny day, but that one had a waitlist and this doesn't, so. I haven't read a YA in over a month and I miss it.

8. The Lightness of Hands - Jeff Garvin: a random pick from my Goodreads TBR that I added back when we were rewatching Revolution, so I was (naturally) on the hunt again for books featuring single dads w/ teenage daughters. It's never felt quite right for Miles & Charlie, but I couldn't kick it off once I'd found it, and now that I'm actively looking at the description of this Sad Dad once more, my brain is like "oh hey. we're not actually out of the Adam Scott phase yet are we. Opportunity?"

[edit: I started this one but god it is long, and I feel so meh about both characters that after 25 pages I started looking up reviews and honestly, it's been almost 4 years since this was published. I will bet heavily on a better option having appeared since then, and when I need this dynamic, I'll go hunting afresh. maybe come back to this one if I end up desperate,but for now, I am no longer actively planning to finish this]

LITERARY/HISTORICAL FICTION

9. Time After Time - Lisa Grunwald: speaking of books I added to my Goodreads TBR years ago because of a TV rewatch, this was added because of Pushing Daisies (keyword searches: books where people are in love and Yearning because they can't touch, or they otherwise have obstacles to a normal relationship). It was a new release then & the waitlist was long, and I believe David Tennant took the fannish-focus crown back before I got to it. But now that I've just read Dawnland, the sequel to April & Oliver aka another book that fit this criteria... well, this is the most I've felt drawn to it in at least 5 years. Only problem is it's very chunky, and it also feels like it might be better as a winter read. But we'll see.

[edit: I started this one too, felt meh, ended up skimming and I don't think it will work for my purposes as well as i want, and THIS is long too so tbh, I don't really wanna invest the time]

MYSTERY

10. Eleven Stolen Horses - Robin Somers: I was literally walking to the checkout station, arms straining under my towering stack, when I saw this on display. May have actually spun on my heel with an inward groan when I realized I couldn't resist taking a look, and when I saw the Nevada setting + "In her search to find Rette, Eleanor discovers the dark world of today's inhumane treatment of wild horses," I snatched it IMMEDIATELY. This will, if nothing else, be a good change of pace genre-wise. But honestly I'm pretty excited to start it.

FANTASY

11. Apprentice to the Villain - Hannah Nicole Maehrer : maybe? I don't know if I want to dive into this right away, or save it for when I really want a guaranteed hit of fun, since book 3 isn't out until August and who knows when my library will get it. But it was available, so I grabbed it.

MIDDLE GRADE

12. The Adventure is Now - Jess Redman: I've been interested in this since it was picked for a Once Upon a Book Club box, but it's always had an absurdly long waitlist for a book I've never heard about otherwise and that doesn't have any awards and is not by a mega-name author (where are the kids hearing about it??). My library finally went up 20 physical copies and now it's finally checked in, so I'm going for it. Love a "video-game-loving kid gets stuck on a remote island for the summer, finds real-life adventure equally cool, nature maybe not that bad."

NONFICTION

13. Downton Shabby: One American's Ultimate DIY Adventure Restoring His Family's English Castle - Hopwood DePree: I remember reading an article about this venture a while back, and then I saw this while browsing BookOutlet. Didn't really wanna buy, but I put it on my library list, and today was the kind of day where I look at said list and check out everything that even might appeal to me in the next 2 months.

14. The Backyard Bird Chronicles - Amy Tan: I am very here for a soothing birdwatching memoir (with illustrations!), especially one that started in 2016 when the author grew overwhelmed by the way hatred & misinformation "became a daily presence on social media, and the country felt more divisive than ever. In search of peace, Tan turned toward the natural world just beyond her window." Well that sounds familiar! Technically this one is still in transit or I probably would have started it today. But it still has a sizable waitlist, so it will be priority #1 once I pick it up.

[hidtired]

sooo what i you do a Daryl x reader where the reader and Daryl had a relationship before the whole outbreak but when the world went to shit, they got separated and they didn't find each other again until Daryl and Aaron are out looking for people and they find the reader in some sort of abandoned building and it's just a sweet reunion. Btw I love your reading and I have no idea what you mean by GRAMMER MISTAKES- LIKE WHERE- but I love ur work <3

That makes my dyslexic ass very happy. I reread my stuff so much and always find mistakes so I try!

Miles Away

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

“Things are never lost to you; you are lost to them. If ever in need of something that has lost you, simply stop hiding from it.”

6.2k words

Description: A last minute trip leaves you separated from your fiancé when the world ends. Years of travel inevitably returns you to him. But years out in the world causes change.

Your POV

An unlikely relationship to have happened between two individuals, but happened all the same. It was a shock to the small town at the time. Even years later the announcement of your engagement causing some ruffled feathers. You the sweet town girl and a rugged Dixon. You were often discouraged from people about Daryl. You had dated the man for around 7 years now. Even so, the people around you told you it was a mistake to go through with a marriage. How could you not do it? He proposed, something you thought he would never do because his parents. He put it simply, “I already see you as my wife. Guess it was bout time I actually made you that rightfully.” So you told everyone to respectfully mind their business.

Then the world ended. You were thousands of miles in the air at the start. Daryl having dropped you off at the airport. You sulked with leaving, becoming mushy about going to New Hampshire to see your dementia ridden mother for the most likely last time. She was getting bad and some family had gathered and deciding to pull the plug. You still remember the last thing you said to him. Tears in your eyes as he held you outside TSA. “I’ll be back in a few days. Then I’m turning that title of fiancé into husband the next I see you.” You felt him chuckle into you, “Yes Ma’am you will.” Expressing I love you’s and the last kiss before you had to catch your flight. This isn’t the first time you had gone to check on your mom. Daryl insisted on coming but he had a hunting trip with his brother and you didn’t want to ruin that. So you had told him no. Why did you tell him no.

The first community you were apart of was the airport you landed at. It lasted a few months, food was plenty for the time and there were weapons from security. It was the people who ended up getting everyone killed. Few disagreements here and there caused a split, factions of sorts. One group kidnapped a pilot to try and fly a plane back to their loved ones. The plane they took hadn’t been run or properly check since everything fell. So it crashed into the fence destroying a good part of the airport with it. The crash attracted a horde and quickly over ran the place. You had a few survivors with you from the airport until you had either lost or seen them all killed.

You headed south, back to Daryl. Miles and miles of land keeping you from Georgia. It was 2 years going on 3 now. You would come across community’s, some still going some gone. Finding less than great people on the road. So that leads you to now. Two wannabe cowboys trying to lasso you like cattle. A scar carved into there for heads the only odd thing about them. They spit out concerning threats and comments, “You can have my seconds when I’m done Bill!” A rope had caught tight to your ankle leading you unable to run. You almost tripped but held your ground. Before this encounter you’d been having it tough for a few weeks. You had barely made any distance in the time you had traveled. The frustration and despair and shit luck wore you thin. You had a gun, only one in the chamber. Leaving one for you if you needed it. About the only ‘cure’ there is nowadays.

You thrashed around trying to fight off the men. You were already covered in grime. They were trying to capture you, not kill. That changed when the gun came out. This alone helpless woman became not so helpless. You fired your only shot at the bigger guy. The smaller one still had the rope and tugged making you miss killing the other. It hit him in the shoulder sending him crying in pain to the forest floor. It was moments like these that made you zone out. Violence wasn’t something you had in you. But now something learned, you had been out in the world too long. Taking a life becoming a norm. You used to care, then you remembered why they were all dead.

The steadiness you felt inside didn’t translate to the out. You scream and yell promises of death. You had managed to grab the rope from your ankle and used it to strangle the man who tied it to you. You broke a few ribs of his while he slowly chocked to death. You had your legs around him while you pulled back at his throat, you had heard and felt a few cracks. The man you had shot watching in horror has he struggled to decide, fight or flight? He choose froze, big scary man having his power taken from him and he becomes a coward. Your incessant screams and yells stopped when he stilled. You focus back to the injured. He rambled apologies to you at your approach. It fell on deaf ears, spotting a large rock near him. You didn’t kill him with speed. You broke his leg with the rock, slowly moving up his body. He was long dead when you were done swinging. Blood splattered and dripping down you.

A frustrated and adrenaline filled scream released out of you. All your noise attracted the infected near you. You ran still with a rope tied to you. You found a small home that was overgrown and slid into it. The knife you didn’t realized you pulled out while running tremble in your hand. You slide down the old wall in the building. The regret to your brutality flowing over you. Killing was normal for survival now, but what you did was cruel. You took your time and did it in brutal ways.

You were twirling the ring on your finger as a nervous habit. Often times doing it for a sense of safety from the man who had given it to you. You thought about him most days. Either when you do something he himself had taught you. That time spent with him in the woods had you picking up little things from him in time. It is why you’re alive for as long as you were. But come closer to night time when you just want to roll into his arms and let the world cease to exist. To just talk to him and hear his voice. But you were no longer the person he knew, and that broke your heart more. The blood covering you, the mans and yours was a very big indication of that fact.

The dead must have saw you run off and tried to follow. The sound of a leaf crunching told you only one must have stumbled correctly in your direction. The quiet movement and lack of undead moans told you all you needed to know.

‘They must have had friends.’

Daryl POV

He was devastated knowing you were far from his reach. Blame for not going with you. It was your mother dying how could he have just let you tell him it was fine? That, “We will go to the funeral when that comes.” He was bitter and angry in the beginning. Then it was hope when he got to the prison with people he now considered family. Maybe one day he would find you again. Then the prison fell and reality seemed to hit him.

Acceptance came when he finally confessed to Rick of your existence. It was when they sat against that car after the night with the claimers. He broke when he told him he was his brother. A mention of Beth stirring the thought of you with it. He looked away from Rick taking a shaky breath, “I lost her like how… how I lost m’ wife.” Rick’s eyes widened taking in the information. Tears build in Daryl’s eyes before he steels himself, “Completely out of my control and yet… somehow was.” Rick understands the feeling, it turns out Daryl knew just that to. When he lost Lori, it was Daryl that helped hold things together. That sudden understanding knocked into him. Rick cautiously asked, “Are they both dead…?” Daryl looked out to the forest. He slowly shook his head, “Just gone.”

When Beth died it also felt like you died with her. The hope he always had that you were out there seemingly dying inside him. He knew the kind of person you were. He would kill squirrels and you would feed them. He knew you were far too nice for your own good. You had spent hours in the rain trying to lure a kitten from under the neighbors shed. Catching a cold so bad it stuck with you for a week. You were his fragile thing in the world he promised to protect. To not just keep you alive but keep your innocence. Whether you were dead or not you would have had killed something in you to live in today’s world. To not be able to protect you from anything felt like he failed you.

He still held a hope you went down peacefully. It had to be meaningful because your life had to be for something. He tried to do the same by giving his life for others. Most recently that person being Aaron. In truth he was ok with dying knowing there was a slim chance of seeing you once again. Things that reminded him that maybe it was better for you to have not suffered. With the horde and assholes he tried to help and others assholes destroying Alexandria’s walls. So now that leading them, him and Aaron tracking the few Wolves who fled. They knew Rick said not to go recruiting people. The distance yells and screams caught there interest. They still need to try despite Rick being jumpy and “taking no chances”. If they could only just make sure whoever was well then that was enough.

When they got closer to a woman’s scream, which sounded in between scared and angry, the dead also seemed to take interest into the noise. The yelling had stopped near when the shot went off, so finding exactly where this person was in the woods became harder. The sight they found was not what they expected. Aaron had held a hand to his mouth, “What the-“ The sight was gruesome, two body’s laid in the dirt. One unrecognizable due to being beaten to a pulp. The other had a walker chewing on its leg. The neck of the man purple. Daryl looked on at the sight with a scowl and went to put the near walker down. He took notice of the W carved into the dead mans head, “Well shit.” Aaron perked up as he watched Daryl crouch down to the man who was choked. Daryl turning gesturing with his head to the body, “These the assholes who fled.” Aaron walked and peeked to see a W carved into there forehead. These two were the last known of the group and they had seemed to died gruesomely, but not by the dead. Aaron turned to Daryl as a realization hit him, “Where the girl who was screaming?”

A unwelcome chill and uneasiness drifted in the air. A thick cloud of a sad thought, “M’ guess they must have attacked her and she shot big fella over there. Then ran from the walkers.” Daryl nibbled at his lip, his eyes roamed the surrounding, maybe a clue confirming the theory. Some blood caught his attention, then he noticed further that in a direction something was dragged through the forest floor. He pointed in the direction making Aaron turn. Aaron looked to have some kind of resolve, “Let’s make sure she is ok.” Daryl nodded while walking forward to track, “If there comes back with us I’ll try and talk Rick into letting them stay. Hell best we can offer is at least some meds, she did use a favor with those dick bags.” Aaron eyebrows scrunched, “Maybe that would help their case. I don’t like not being about to recruit people anymore.”

The trail Daryl followed lead him to a very overgrown building. It was clear the place may have been abandoned even before the fall. Daryl walked quietly, he gestured he would go around back and that Aaron should go in the front. Aaron crouched and made his way closer to the building while Daryl went to the back. The slow creak of the wooden door making it obvious he was there, Aaron had no stealth in him. So he knows if someone was in this place they knew he was here, he might as well make himself known. He gulped seeing a hand print of blood on the wall closed to the door, “I don’t want to hurt you. Just heard you screaming and saw the bodies of those men. Your not hurt are you?” His weight making the wood underneath him bend with every step. The place was silent, but he knew that someone was here if the blood trail wasn’t any indication.

It was sudden, almost like a flow of wind whipping behind him. A cold knife pressed to his neck. You had drifted out of the dark from somewhere stunning him in shock. He nervously brought his hands up in surrender, “Woah! There’s no need for that.” He tried to stay calm but an obvious tremor to his voice giving away his nerves. The quick movement and tone had alerted the archer to his danger though. Daryl saw a grimy and bloody figure stand to Aaron’s side. Daryl lifted and clicked his crossbow of safety and pointed to the potential threat.

It was clear by the way the person froze they knew they were now out numbered. It was also evident that this person was trembling. They were in a fight mode from just being attacked and he didn’t blame them for being on edge. By the looks of it they had been out in the world for to long, something he was familiar with. This person seemed to be thinking of anyway to run and Daryl decided he should speak stopping those thoughts from getting to how you got away from the other guys.

“Put the knife down, we just were wantin to see if yeah are ok.”

The slow turn of the persons head seemed almost confused. But the soon flicker of eye contact between them revealed all. His grip on his crossbow slowly slipping. His heart pumped in his ears. You. Maybe he was dreaming? You? The building feeling dropped in him. Some way somehow he was staring at you, the women he would burn the world for. He watched as the knife was moved from Aaron and saw it fall to the floor. The sound of you crashing back to the wall behind you giving him a clear view of you. You were covered in dirt and blood. Hair was much shorter then the last he saw you. It was choppy like you did it with a dull blade. It was also tinted darker from being unwashed. Holes throughout your clothes and the collar loose. He slowly stepped closer ignoring Aaron. Then he saw it, a flicker of a sparkle coming from your finger.

The ring he gave you…

Your POV

The clumsy man sloppily creeped up into the house. A voice calmly spoke as they realized they were less than quiet entering, “I don’t want to hurt you. Just heard you screaming and saw the bodies of those men. Your not hurt are you?” The hatred still buzzed in you from your near death experience. This man claimed to ‘not want to hurt you’ but never said they weren’t going to hurt you. The man walked with heavy feet. You were in a dark room hugging the wall near the door. If he was truthful about just overhearing everything you didn’t want to kill him. It was hard to remember that not everyone was out to get you. Even so you quickly rushed to pull your knife to his neck.

The man seemed schooled while raising his hands in surrender. A good move that eased his threat level to you. You took notice of his clean appearance, something that seemed a little strange at first. He looked to you with ought moving his head. Eyes glancing down to you, “Woah! There’s no need for that.” It was clear to you this guy was not involved with the others you just killed. Before you could ask anything a click from across the hall stunned you into a sense of danger overflowing from you again. You didn’t move your sight from the man in front of you. It was clear some kind of weapon was pointed at you. You hadn’t heard the other person at all? Maybe the first guy was so loud you didn’t even think he had another person with him. Should you run? Maybe kill the guy at your knife point and use him as a shield for the other-

“Put the knife down, we just were wantin to see if yeah are ok.”

It was as if a ghost whispered in your ear. The unexpected voice from the dark pulling at your heart and memories. Maybe you were losing it, becoming crazy? All this time out in the world had gotten to you. Your eyes while scared to drift to the darkness and see nothing quickly glanced over to confirm if you lost it. Blue eyes is what you saw. His baby blue eyes that you used to joke would be the color of your children’s. Daryl, crossbow slowly lowering revealing more of himself. The knife slipped from your hand. The man near you back away after it fell. You didn’t even notice while crashing backwards. Eyes still locked with a seeming allusion of your lover. A overwhelming mess of feeling all at once made you numb. You were in Virginia… still miles from Georgia.

He stepped closer, hair longer and clothes seemed worn but still clean. You struggled to suck air in to your lungs, starting to hyper ventilate. You slid down the wall still looking at him. He crouched down to your level eyes glassy and a look of pain in his eyes.

“Darlin’…”

Both POV

Your lips wobbled as tears flood your vision. A sudden rush of air finally hitting your lungs. He almost reached out to touch you but froze halfway not wanting to scare you. The first sound of a cry released from you. You sent yourself flying up at him, encircling him into your arms. He caught you but stumbled back landing on his ass. He felt your body shake with your cry’s. A tightness stuck in his throat as he held you. A moment neither thought would have again.

"Uh, Daryl what just happened?"

Daryl looked over your shoulder and up to a very confused Aaron. A long sigh released from him, "M' Wife." He leaned his head down onto yours. You pulling back to look to him. Tears still in your eyes blurring your vision slightly. Not enough to not take notice of how he changed, for as long as you've known him he's never looked more mature. You sniffle, "I thought I'd never see you again." The clear strain to the admission broke his heart. He knew though, despite that you had been trying to get back, you wouldn't be in front of him now if you hadn't. He wiped at your tears still not fully processing. He noticed Aaron move and sigh, "I'll give you a moment, keep in mind we have to get back before dark." He walked out the door and it creaked and slowly swung closed. It had seemed you had only just noticed and remembered he was there. But you had also remembered that the world was still shit. You looked to Daryl and you notice he was looking at you already.

"Shit. Are you hurt? I saw those assholes bodies-" He seemed to realized it to. The world was different, therefore so were you. He might still have lost you. "-you killed those pricks?" His innocent little thing? He looked to the blood that covered you. Then he remembered the way those bodies looked. You looked away from his eyes seemingly ashamed, "Yes." It was a slightly cold reply. Squeezed fists, nails digging into your palm. "They cornered me so I killed them." It wasn't even a second when Daryl replied with a grumble in his voice, "Good." Your eyes spring to look at his face in surprise. You saw the unwavering truth in that moment. Yes you had changed, so had he.

You smile while tears stream down your face. He was truly here. You grab his face in your hands and look deep into his eyes. He was mesmerized by the change. The love in your eyes remain the same he last saw them, in the end you were still his. He should have clocked that the moment he still say the ring on your finger. You let in a breath before speaking, “The only reason I’m still alive is because of you.” He wasn’t expecting that. He seemed to bite his tongue and look down for a second. Guilty. You forgot how soft hearted this man was, you’re glad that somehow is still with him. You never thought that maybe he would blame himself for the separation. You lift his head to look back to you, “All the times I would watch you hunt, track, and prepare kills kept me fed. All the times I should have given up or accepted death I told myself I would crawl my way to you if I had to.”

Then is when the crashing feeling dropped on him. The love he held for you that felt like a void suddenly was right in front of him. You slowly leaned into him giving a slow kiss. His hand slipped behind your head pulling you into a deeper kiss. Something both would fantasize about now becoming a reality. You wince causing Daryl to pull back. He pulled you back and took a look at you. You huffed a sigh sitting back to the forgotten rope around your foot. Daryl’s eyes round at the rope around your swollen ankle, he grabbed your leg mumbling curses. You sighed, “Shit, forgot about that.” You flinch while he carefully unwraps it. You didn’t feel the pain until now. It didn’t feel broken but the guy must have sprained it the time he pulled on it before you shot his friend. Maybe the crunching you heard while strangling the guy with the rope was your foot. Daryl grunted and had that worried pout he did, “We gotta get yeah back to get that looked at.” He stood first helping you stand. You stumbled giving him a questioning look, “Back where?” He helped you out the door, the man you didn’t recognize turning to your exit of the shack. Daryl started to explain, “We have a community, it’s a little drive away.”

You cringe at the word community. You have seen your fair share of them, either run by crazy’s with a weird motive or something natural would happen destroying the place. “Don’t have the greatest relationship with those but, if you say so.” You look to the man Daryl was with, he seemed bamboozled. He walked closer to you and helping you walk. Daryl seemed perturbed, “I got her, I’ll get her to your car.” You watched somewhat comically as the man sassed and brush’s off his statement. You expected Daryl to hurl harsh words at him because he typically hated when anyone challenged him. But by this man’s tone, “You got shot few days ago. Not the greatest idea to carry her with your shoulder.” he was friends with him. Daryl scoffed but your eyes widened and looked to Daryl in shock. Daryl’s annoyed face at Aaron changed when he saw the worried one on yours, “Geez Aaron it was a graze! You’ll scare her talkin’ like that. Y/n don’t listen to him…”

They both were helping you through the woods seemingly to a road. Aaron chuckled as he took a glance to you, “Well to be fair never knew there was a Mrs. Dixon. Be good for her to finally keep you from being reckless.” Daryl scoffed rolling his eyes, the grip on you tightened from him, “Only ever mentioned it to one person, he’ll give me hell for her when we get back.” Daryl also can’t imagine all the rest of his family finding out you even existed. He looked down seeing you slightly amused at how he was acting. He knows he has changed, for the better he thinks. He was finally confident in saying you were right about his true nature all that time ago. He was just a big softie that denied it and put on a sour façade. He looked to Aaron then back to you, “You’ll be in the car with Aaron. Your to injured for my bike.”

You looked to this Aaron guy giving him an unsure look. He smiled to you shyly, “Best we don’t freak out the rest of are people. Those assholes you killed gave us hell and damaged are community.” That surprised you, looking as a road appeared through the trees, you hopped along, “You were out here for them?” You reached the car and Aaron left your side to open the passenger door. Daryl turning to explain, “They carved W in their head calling themselves wolves. Bunch of crazy’s.” He sighed looking past you, “Those two were the last of em. We didn’t want them doing anything else to anyone.” He rubbed your arm before helping you walk to car, “We were a little late for that I guess.” He helped you sit down noticing it was getting a little too dark for his liking. He moved down looking at Aaron in the drivers seat, “We gotta go before we worry people, I’ll lead the way.”

You sat there staring at Daryl as his headlight lit the road. Everything felt like it was moving really fast. The news of those people you killed were worse than you thought gave some justification for your brutality. Who were you kidding you had lost control. Aaron broke the silence in the humming car, “So, Y/n is it?” You glance over to Aaron just giving a hum in reply. He takes your awkward silence just as well as he takes Daryl. He heard you shuffle in your seat before asking, “How long have you known Daryl?” Aaron clocked the really meaning to the question, ‘how trustworthy are you’. Aaron chuckled, “A few months now.” Not long enough in your opinion. Yet Daryl seems so friendly with him? In such a short time? You decide to just ask another thing bothering you.

“What did he mean by he’ll get hell about me?”

Aaron sighed as he looked on to Daryl driving ahead, “Are leader will be a little pissed with bring you back. He is not big on newcomers right now after the recent incident, but you’re Daryl’s wife so not really new know are you.” This leader sounds to have the right idea about people. You fiddle with the ring on your hand, “So me staying is going to take some convincing?” Aaron smiled and nodded while he drove, “Well if anyone could convince him it would be his brother.” His brother is the leader of this place? That can’t be good. Merle was anything but a leader. This community is probably small and on its lasts legs, he did say it was just attacked and very damaged… guess you’ll be back out on the road sooner then you thought.

You looked out the window for the remainder of your ride. Aaron only speaking again when closer to the destination, “So we’re almost there. You should just stay in the car until we can give a heads up of your arrival?” You tilt your head in confusion, “I’m going in the community? Thought you said your leader wasn’t a people person right now?” You had thought you would have to stay behind considering so. Having to wait for some kind of approval. Aaron laughed a little, “Daryl has a fair amount of say. His family trusts him enough to make a call.” You sat there confused again, ‘Family?’ Just his brother? But he said it like there is a fair bit of people in this, ‘Family’. Your contemplating was interrupted when Aaron rolled to a stop. You looked around into the dark not realizing when Aaron turned off the headlights.

Then while Aaron filcked the lights on and off in a pattern you caught glimpses of a huge wall. You sat up in your seat leaning forward as you watched it slide open. Daryl rolled in first then Aaron slowly drove in. The first thing you notice was houses with a few lights on. Electricity? This place was huge… But your eyes were pealed back to Daryl. A group of people seemingly gathering around him seeming worried. Aaron unlocked the door and before getting out mumbled a quick, “Stay here.”

Daryl POV

There orders were to be back way before dark. So when they hadn’t come back it sent everyone in a panic. Not to mention they were already struggling with replacing broken parts of the wall and moving bodies. Rick had become a singled minded man again with Carl almost dying. So he wasn’t surprised when he came marching up to him unhappy about his tardiness, “Where the hell have you both been! We damn near sent people after you.” Daryl brought his hands to his hips, “Assholes are dead, but there is something else-“

“Stay here.”

Rick turned to see Aaron getting out of the car but he also noticed a figure in the passenger seat nodding. Anger flared in him, “I said no more recruiting! Damnit Daryl- put them in the cell!” Daryl was not about to be yelled at. Specially for something as important as this. “Hold the hell up-“ Rick shook his head in annoyance cutting Daryl off, “This is not negotiable!” Before Daryl could blurt out anything a running figure came screaming for Rick. It was Denise, “It’s Carl he is awake and freaking out!” Daryl felt his stomach drop. Rick hesitated in place before pointing to Glenn, “Go put them in the cell!” Then he ran off back to his son. Daryl turned to Glenn, “Nah man! You don’t get it!” Glenn looked to the people next to him before sighing and walking to the car. “Hey! Wait!” Abraham stepped in front of him blocking his path.

He huffed knowing he would have tackled Abraham if he wasn’t trying to be calm about this. “Get the hell out my way.” Then he heard your voice call out, “Uh… Daryl?” Very clear of your anxiety and how you might lash out if you feel in danger. Daryl needed to just had to suck it up, “ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! FINE!” He stepped to the side looking to Glenn, “Your throwing me in with her. Let’s go…” Glenn paused giving him a wide eye expression. Glenn looked back and forth conflicted but sighed and lead you to the cell Morgan just made. Glenn question Daryl on the walk, “Why are you doing this Daryl?” Daryl was walking slightly ahead with you right behind him. You answered for him, “I’m his wife.” A choked cough released from Glenn, “Woah!” Glenn paused looking to him the to you. “What the hell dude! Never said you were married!” Daryl saw they were getting closer to the building and ignored Glenn’s surprise. Glenn sighed, “Well damn now I don’t wanna lock you up.” Glenn walked past you both going down a small incline. He unlocked a door and rubbed at his next, “But Rick said. I’m sure once everything with Carl calms down he will let you out.” Glenn turned to you, “Sorry about this, newcomers is a sensitive thing at the moment.”

Much to Daryl’s dismay you half heartedly chuckled while walking into the room, “To be fair best I be in a cage. I did just brutally murder two men.” Glenn mouth was agape, “uh- what? She’s joking right?” Daryl just shrugged and followed you into the cell. Daryl even closed the door and stuck his arms through the bars before answering. While it was still a new thing to hear you be so… brutal… maybe just badass, he trusted you. “Don’t tell Rick why I’m in here with her. Want to rub it in his face for pissing me off and not listening to me.” Glenn chuckled and shrugged moving to lock the cell door, “If you say so.” You while just being a bystander to this conversation spoke up, “I thought Aaron said your brother was the leader, not this Rick guy?” Glenn started to laugh, “What you thought people would follow a dumbass like Merle?” Daryl squinted his eyes at Glenn… but he wasn’t wrong. Glenn smiled to him, “No offense.” Daryl just rolled his eyes putting his attention to you, “Rick is like a brother to me.”

Your face told him you were bewildered by that statement. Granted he knows back then Merle always through around ‘blood is the only thing we got’ when you both started dating. Maybe you thought he saw it that way to. Glenn was about to go out the door, “Aw, Daryl cares for us!” Before the door closed Daryl shouted back, “Get your head out of your ass ‘walker bait’!” A nickname sure to piss him off. You only looked to me pleased with the reaction. Awe struck in your eyes drew him closer to you. Alone at last, and it seemed you both had some catch up to do.

It was a lot of talking. Sitting against a wall with your hands intertwined. He told you about Merle’s death. How he came to be so friendly with all these people. You started crying and leaned into him. At first he thought you were sad but you were smiling proudly at him. You share your own story’s. Mentioning friends you’ve lost, mostly them all dying, how a few were just gone with you having no clue to how. “Told you I’d make you my husband the next time I saw you…” He felt his throat tightened, he grieved you to the point of acceptance. So having you here and now felt like another type of grieving. To what could have been. But before he could get into it farther an angry Rick stormed down into the cellar. Hand on hip with a baby Judith slumped over his shoulder. A stature of a man trying to show leadership, “What the hell are you doing here Daryl.” Rick’s eyes only glancing over to you for a second. Daryl sat there for a second prolonging the silence. While he couldn’t exactly blame Rick for having to run off before they could talk he should have known damn well he had say. So he glared daggers to Rick.

Rick moved from foot to foot shaking his head again, “Look we can’t go bring anyone in after the shit that happened-“ Daryl stood up waving his hands, “You think I’m stupid? Like I would go and bring someone back if it didn’t mean something?” Daryl stood straight closing in closer to the bars, “Now please go ahead and tell my WIFE! That she isn’t welcome here.” Ricks mouth gapped open, air releasing from his lungs, “T-that’s her!” Rick’s hand moved to his chest while turning to look at you. Daryl also turned around just seeing you nonchalantly resting on the floor.

“You two really do argue like brothers.”

Your eyes not staring at Rick but the baby girl he carried. Daryl’s heart filled with you pushing aside the anger of the situation, because this was supposed to be a happy moment. Daryl turned back to Rick seeming to have calmed down, “Now… you gonna let us out?” Rick started to laugh, Judith perking up to her father’s laughter. “Goddamn dude, I’m happy for ya.” Rick moved for the key in his pocket. Daryl reached out a hand to help you up, a visible limp still present. While walking here you tried to appear un injured, most likely trying not to look like easy pray. You truly were out there for a long time, his group knows what that could do to your mind.

The creaky bared door swings open leaving the little girl to finally met eyes with her uncle. Daryl sighed when he gained the little girls attention. Judith happily giggled while reaching for him. Though he found really hold her if he wanted to help you walk. That’s what drew his attention back to your face. He wasn’t expecting you to be looking at Judith like she was a puppy. Then you sniffled, “She’s so cute.” Rick looked to you while juggling his daughter. The know that sometimes things like Judith keep you going in hard times. But in your hard time you had nothing. So seeing something in this broken world like Judith was definitely pulling something inside you. Daryl though could help but smugly smile up to Rick with a, ‘Just look at m’ girl~.’ Showing off the one he loved at the start to the family he now has.

But damn if it didn’t feel good.

Feedback welcome and requests open! Maybe spin off if this does well and people want more.

[sunboki]

— KEEP IT BUSINESS. a Lee Minho fiction

Lee Minho x f. reader

TROPE. best friends to lovers, coworkers! au, first kiss? au (hehe), domestic/soft minho, fluff

WARNINGS. cursing, making-out, inexperienced kissing, annoying coworkers

WORD COUNT. 6.9k words

AUG'S NOTES. so glad to have finally completed this!! it’s been rotting in my drafts for weeks and i just had to write a happy ending for these two grandparents 🫶🏼

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Life can be a mess, and with you and Minho as the only two singles in your office building, an impertinent Valentine’s day leaves no choice but to make a pact.

or alternatively :

If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.

Four years.

It’s been four years since you first met Lee Minho, working with him at the same company, becoming the best of friends. And yet, the same dread lay specially reserved for the same season.

The season of love, or, to most people, Valentine’s day.

.

.

.

Alarm set for 6:30AM. Work from 8:30AM to 4PM. Every day of the week, every year.

Initially, the experience was relatively enjoyable. It paid well, wasn’t too harsh on hours, and other coworkers minded their own business (at least in your case) without being a pain.

Then the loneliness set in.

It was subtle at first, a tiny pang in your heart when you returned home to a dark, cold apartment while others would be greeted by a pet, a loved one.

So when Lee Minho, a new member of the company assigned as your apprentice came along, you tend to think meeting him was, in a weird, spontaneous manner, meant to be.

And four years later, when he had grown from that apprentice-ship and became established as an employee, you still hold onto that “meant to be” philosophy.

Busied chatter fills the downstairs cafe, familiar faces alike brimming with conversation, breath coffee-stained.

Peering across the various assortment of tables, you spot him, two identical cups in each hand, wearing that bemused expression as usual.

At this point, Minho has memorized your order by heart, arriving early after his daily stop by the nearby animal shelter (whose manager knew by heart). Most morning’s you’d await a picture of the newest addition to the feline section, a photo he proudly shows off like his own trophy.

You’re genuinely surprised his residence isn’t a constantly growing cat-kingdom.

“Looking forward to it?”

Brows furrowing, you sidle to his right and dish the warm beverage into your grasp.

“Looking forward to wha— wait wait don’t say it. I want to pretend it doesn’t exist.” Hurriedly waving your hands, Minho cracks a grin.

The cursed word in question being: Valentine’s day.

You can’t say you hate it. It never did anything to you, nor did it leave you heartbroken. To put it simply, the office over the first few weeks of February was a close-resembling spinoff to Singles Inferno except, much spicier and way too inappropriate in broad daylight.

Meaning, for the past five years (four joined by Minho), merely mentioning said season of love urges impending dread and deep frowns.

“All I’m gonna say is I would not want to be a doctor over Valentines,” You wince, sipping the warm drink with a squeamish face.

Minho sighs vehemently, propping an elbow against the computer cart behind him.

“I bet you could witness more vibrators in that hospital than in an Adam and Eve,” He grumbles, watchful eyes surveying the daily crowd occupying tables and chairs in the building’s downstairs café.

Slamming a fist to your chest to correct your breathing, your eyes practically bulge from your skull, evidently caught of guard.

Leave it to Minho to make you suffocate before your shift even begins.

8am is prime time for socialization—otherwise before Mrs. Song decides to unleash her wrath on newbies. She has good intentions, sure, but let’s just say most anyone was petrified upon first meeting her.

Luckily, your department with Hyeongmi, Minho, and Felix was secluded on the far side of the building, leaving you out of the woman’s hair, free to work as you please.

Yet, Mrs. Song wasn’t the problem, not when it came down to the month of February.

Your phone’s alarm signaling to start moving momentarily wards off the thought, and either of you begin toward the elevator, flat expressions describing the sinking feeling better than words.

Back at it, again.

Because by your lunch break, you can’t fathom entering the cafeteria, not if it costs you your life.

Everywhere you look someone is making out, confessing their love, or, worst you’ve seen it all day, genuinely fucking in the bathrooms.

Perhaps you’d send Minho a text you’re making an escape by eating in the office, invite him up for some solace.

Except, it seems he had the same idea.

Scrambling through the door, you enter at the same time, heaving sighs of exasperation upon securing much needed privacy.

Making prolonged eye contact, your thoughts come spilling out.

“If I witness another make-out in the stairwell I’m ending it all.”

“Boxes of chocolates are officially ruined for me now.”

Four years and it never gets old. Same old painful memories, same old excitement for the day to come and go. And it’s not like you hate the holiday itself, you two just.. heavily dislike the immense bucketloads of PDA and office hookups that come along with it.

Not-so-gracefully flopping down onto your chairs, you practically shovel food down, gladly accepting the few rolls of gimbap Minho places onto your plate.

Customary sharing. You give him some of your food, he gives you some of his.

In those brief minutes of silence do you get the opportunity to fully comprehend your own thoughts, prior to Minho clearing his throat.

“Drinks at my place?”

Your grown loudly in agreement.

Minho : Okay, I’m leaving, follow me in thirty minutes

Glancing up, you watch your counterpart lift his brows your way and call out his departure, sifting through the doorway, cross body bag thumping against jeans.

Hyeongmi was downstairs, which, as awful as it sounded, was great not having to endure her nosiness.

This was how you stayed unbothered. He’d leave, and thirty minutes later you would too in order to (for now) avoid Mrs. Song (and Hyeongmi’s) pestering.

It couldn’t have taken the clock longer to reach 4:30PM. So by the time the beloved minute hand struck 4:29 you practically lurched from your seat, almost tasting sweet freedom before a face showed up right before you slipped through the exit.

Hyeongmi’s face.

What she’s talking about you can’t seem to understand, mind trained on escaping and escaping alone.

“C’mon now, you two are the only two in this building without a date. It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!” Hyeongmi emphasizes, dizzying your head the longer she shakes your shoulders.

“You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right? I’m telling you, it’s a sign—“

“Sorry Hyeongmi, I really have to go-“

Fastening your bag tigher across your body, you make a mad-dash as far away as possible, pretending to ignore the “use protection!” she shouted before the crisp evening breeze nipped your nose.

Use protection my butt, you grovel, ushering the scarf further above your chin as if to secure as much warmth possible.

She doesn’t know anything, not about how you took him under your wing as your apprentice the first year he joined, not about how much Minho loves cats, or how the keychain on that crossbody bag of his is a keychain you bought for him.

Simply placing it, she’s a person lead by the assumptions of others and adopting them as her own.

It irritates you.

Veering to your right, you thank his decision to house nearby, arriving at the foot of his porch after a mere ten-minute walk.

Delivering a few knocks on the townhome’s doorway, you note the paint chipping, colorful exterior worn from the sun’s rays.

Everything from the few cracks in the sidewalk to the relatively invisible stain of coffee on his doorknob lay memorized by frequency—his property second nature to you.

“Never have I hated being single this much,” You whine, slumping onto his couch after hurling your bag atop a hook in the foyer.

And despite the lack of response, you can tell Minho heard you. The faint, breathy chuckle enough evidence of his presence.

Perched on a chair he’d likely dragged from the kitchen, a feline companion occupies his lap, both comfortably relaxing on the patio, wine glass in hand.

Accordingly arranged on the countertop is another glass (you presume as yours), that you pour the vinegar-tinged substance into.

“I mean.” Slightly struggling to haul a neighboring chair to his side and simultaneously avoid splashing wine everywhere, you eventually find an equilibrium.

“It’s not like I asked to be single, I’m just too busy to consider a relationship, y’know?”

Minho absentmindedly hums, urging you to take a much-needed sip of the orchid-colored liquid.

Finally, you sigh out the last of your evening’s thoughts.

“..Hyeongmi caught me on the way out.”

Nor does this occasion need a reply either, the man’s suppressed giggle suitable enough.

“Mm.. I’ve got an idea.”

Carefully allowing the elongated glass to clink atop a translucent table, you cross and uncross your legs, welcoming the rustle of life around you into your eardrums, easing the cluttered space of your brain.

“Shoot.”

He clicks his tongue, gaze flitting to the emerging moon overhead.

“If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.“

Making a surprised sound to yourself, you break into unadulterated laughter, about to call him hilarious before taking into account this is Minho you’re referring to, and the likelihood he’s joking on any matter is unlikely.

Sure it sounds cliché, but it’s Minho, why not?

…And perhaps that decision was made with a few glasses of wine in play.

“I’m in.” You grin, returning his outstretched hand by bumping your glasses before downing the remaining gulp, cheeks aglow, alcohol ridding your breath a distasteful stench.

Tipsy. Minho is charming normally, but especially when he’s tipsy.

He’s got this way of speaking that could get any unsuspecting girl reaching to unzip his pants in a second, sultry, half-lidded eyes drinking the person in front of him, talking like he has sugar lining his lips.

When Minho is tipsy, he’s tempting. You didn’t need four years to teach you that.

That, and the spare pajama set folded in his top drawer reserved solely for you on nights like this—too gone to go home.

Although, as you rise to your feet and head to the bathroom, pulling said silk pajama shirt over your head, Hyeongmi’s words reverberate again.

You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right?

Hm. Minho was always a recluse though. And with your history, obviously he’d have some liking for you.

It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!

Turning to stare at yourself in the mirror, you sulk, head hanging low.

What if you did something tonight? Something risky, something testing the limits this friendship borderlines. You’re both drunk, likely willing.

Then again, does Minho want this too? Did he ever intend to “let loose”?

Anxiety plagues you, hurriedly scurrying your pants over your legs and exiting to find Minho still seated in the same spot, appearing all the more tempting without having to do a thing.

You blame the alcohol.

Stamping forward as if you prepared a speech, you stop just behind his chair, mustering any ounce of liquid courage manageable.

“Minho.”

He grunts.

“You’re really pretty.”

Let loose. This is letting loose when it comes to Minho.

What, you thought you were gonna fuck? Yeah, that’s a funny one.

Winding himself around to see you, his lips wind into a sweet smile, urging you closer with a mere look before he reaches forward and taps your nose, dark eyes roaming your face.

“I’ve always thought you were pretty too.”

And perhaps, caught in a trance from his glittering stare, something did happen those four years you’ve been together after all.

You blame the alcohol.

The impulsive part about this “date at twenty-five” pact you had forgotten to consider was the fact both of you were twenty-four, meaning in less than a year whatever plan Lee Minho had stirred up after plenty glasses of wine would oil it’s gears into motion.

Thankfully Valentines comes and goes, and Summer creeps dangerously close, the longer hours of daylight and lingering sunshine enough to make every work-day feel extra laborious.

First day of summer, Minho texts you, asking if you want to join him on a walk.

Mind you, it’s 10AM in the morning, an hour you couldn’t fathom waking up at on the first day of summer.

You groan and flop back down, shutting off your phone and slamming the pillow over your head in a pitiful attempt at falling back asleep.

Only for your doorbell to ring twenty minutes later.

Over.

And over.

And over.

The urge to screech compels your barely-awake form, legs wobbling out of bed to feebly reach the doorway in a sleep-ridden haze.

Of course, lo and behold, Minho lies responsible, clad in running shoes, a pair of shorts, and a black nike zip-up.

He’s evidently pleased—whether from how disheveled you appear—or that he actually got you out of bed in the first place by the lingering smile tugging at his lips.

You hate to say it, but he’s annoyingly attractive, there’s no denying.

“Caught you at a bad time, hm?” He tips his head down to make eye-contact, peering through wild hair and lidded eyes at your half-alive self.

All you can manage out is a minuscule grunt, about to close the door before Minho jars his hand in, inviting himself inside much to your dismay.

Like instinct, he heads straight to your closet, surveying the chaos his insistent door-bell ringing caused before fetching a sweatshirt to pull over your head and a pair of socks from your drawer.

Though, as you wake up a tad bit more, you hurriedly keep him from putting your socks on for you as he bends down, shying away with an irritated whine.

“If this is what dating you is like I’m calling off the pact,” You mumble, stomping toward the door with Minho pushing you forwards without chance of escape.

He giggles, seeming to contain utmost glee witnessing your temper tantrum.

“Oh trust me sweetheart, the fun never ends.”

He’s hopeless too, apparently.

Lucky for you, your friend’s visits occurred sporadically, meaning the 10AM wake up calls weren’t a daily routine of headaches.

In contrast, summer passed by in a flash, and you were shoved head-first into a packed schedule for a second time as the autumn leaves shriveled into crisp browns and oranges.

Autumn was always welcomed. It meant the chilling cold was approaching, yes, but it also signified apple cider being added to the downstairs café menu and—on those especially chilly mornings—bundling your neck in the scarf Minho bought you last christmas.

As for him, he frequents pointed shoes and straight-legged pants, his fudge-colored hair perfectly complimented by pumpkin scented fragrances and dusky red backdrops.

Brisk mornings call for thinking. And as you walk, you come to the indefinite conclusion apple cider fits Minho. Sweet, but not saccharine. Warm to the touch, reminiscent with a charming aftertaste. A silhouette that comes and goes as it pleases, leaving soon enough for you to crave it back again.

Regarding summer, he was sort of like a beach day. A vacation in the midst of roaring deadlines, the comfortable lull of waves buzzing your mind into a hazy, salty escapade.

Although as December plucks each oak of its splendor, a call on Sunday morning truly marks the season of winter.

“..Y/n?” Minho murmurs, his voice groggy, hoarse. You make a sound of acknowledgment in response.

“I think I’m sick, can you drop off some meds at the door?”

Pressing your phone close to your ear, you debate on your desire to scold him, remind him each time he gets a winter cold he should dress warmer.

Of course, your lips stay shut (just like they always have for the past few years), and you reply with a “Be there soon, hang tight” before ending the call and gathering your belongings.

At the supermarket you check out seaweed soup, multivitamins, and allergy relief—things of which you hope will alleviate some of his symptoms.

Eternally grateful for the spare key you’d been given a while back, you enter the home, calling his name until an exasperated sign of life was heard (more like coughed) from the bedroom.

Inside lay Minho, a distressing array of tissues scattered in all directions, clustered beyond belief. His nose is soured pink from incessant stuffiness, lips cracked and dry. Dark circles sag beneath tired eyes, worn disposition evidence of his condition.

Quick on your feet, you scour the bathroom for a thermometer, the device’s loud beep signifying a blaring fever as you hover by his bedside.

Watching the bowl of instant soup spin aimless circles in the microwave, Minho’s call knocks you out of your daydream, worriedly padding to where he lays.

“Come here.”

You oblige, arriving to his right, about to ask the matter until his fingers link with your own, bringing the back of your hand to his jaw, resting there.

If you had been warm before, an entirely new definition to sweating has been reached at this point.

“You’re warm,” He whispers, rubbing his face against your hand like a needy cat wanting attention.

How unfair a human can be this round.

Practically bounding from the inside, you use the excuse of the microwave beeping to race off, hurriedly disappearing into the kitchen while remaining ignorant to the way Minho’s gaze follows you.

Returning with a soup platter meticulously carried between your tight grip, you sigh with relief upon sitting the steaming concoction down. Oh so slowly, a frown grows at your face upon noticing the expectant stare boring into your head.

“Yes?”

He juts out his bottom lip like a kicked puppy from your nonplussed tone, nudging the covers over himself till only those calculating eyes peek out.

“I’m not feeding you.”

Minho all but whimpers, and you suppress the urge to smother him with a pillow right then and there, hating how easily he sends goosebumps prickling the back of your neck, heat scalding your ears.

“No.”

“Y/n.”

You quite literally feel like the cruelest person in existence because why is he looking at you with that face, saying your name like that.

Grumbling beneath your breath, you begrudgingly collect a spoonful, bringing the utensil to his already pursed lips.

Spoonful by spoonful do you feed him as if he’s a dependent toddler, his satisfied hums earning a stern glare in return.

Only when he finishes eating do you get up, reprimanding him on taking his meds without much bite to your words.

“And don’t take too many of these, alright? If it gets really bad, call me again. Otherwise, try getting sleep.”

“Yes ma’am.”

And of course he has to be endearing.

Such a pain.

You’ll stop by tomorrow.

If Minho was the apple cider in autumn and beach days in the summer, he’s the prettiest of snowflakes in the midst of winter.

Memorable, fleeting. Melting in your touch.

The annual Christmas party the company hosts steadily approaches, your coworkers ringing your phone insistently with noticeable anticipation.

Though just like autumns chill, December soars past idly, reigning in a new year and a new digit added to twenty when asked your age.

Your winter premise only heightened the anxiety compiling in your gut, a feeling you hadn’t recognized until the following day—the first day back to work in January—dawned.

January 1st’s introduction means you’re both officially twenty-five, and you’re not sure if it’s the fact Minho hasn’t texted you yet or the valentines pact in itself setting you on edge.

What would it be like to date Minho? Would he kiss you, the same way male leads in K-dramas did? Hold you as you sleep, wish you goodbye with a kiss to your cheek?

The mere thought sends rivets of electricity blazing your fingertips, feeling like an utter fool for imagining such scenarios.

Now you’ve haunted yourself for worse, leaving only dread in tow.

Arriving at the office the first day back, you attempt at making yourself look as collected as possible, definitely not bothered.

Worse, the root of your troubles walks in unbothered as you’ve been trying to do for the past few hours, the room working in deplorable silence before a note wedges itself behind your keyboard, Minho slipping past in its wake.

It takes all your will-power to ignore the crumpled piece of paper as best as possible, your index itching to unravel whatever lay inside.

Noon is when you finally give in, lungs failing to produce air upon reading the contents, practically choking on nothing.

Come over to my place after work.

What is this, his way of declaring your pact officially in action? What if he calls it off, saying it was only a joke glasses of wine granted?

As Hyeongmi said before, everyone has the hots for him, so why don’t you? Why does the thought of him calling it off put you on edge?

Or maybe you do. Maybe you do have feelings for—

Woah. Stop there.

Luckily, your internal chess match went unnoticed, leaving only the buzzing of your ears and the ticking of the clock loud.

A certain fondness sat between either of you from the start, since becoming acquainted you’ve instantly clicked—sly remarks and playful teasing merely one more thing keeping you alive (minus coffee).

So when something crossing the border between friends and lovers arose, a sort of nervousness bubbled in your gut.

Minho was a shoulder to cry on for you, but was it like that?

You could rely and depend on each other whenever, but could those feelings ever turn into love?

Of course they could, and they likely would’ve if it weren’t for either of you being so work-oriented—making you even more worried.

Although, you can’t simply flee. You’re an adult.

..And Minho will find you in a heartbeat if you decide to run.

Never had you been hesitant to leave office until now, and trodding one foot in front of the other causes your legs to turn into jelly.

Minho probably isn’t this nervous. He’s probably in a great mood, treating the occasion like it’s just another casual day.

Never before was it difficult, whether difficult is referred to as placing a key in a doorway or walking inside, everything seems so.. eminent.

Like when you walk through this door, an entirely new side of Minho will show face. A romantic side of Minho.

Yet, there’s no rose petals lining the hallway, nor scented candles scattered here and there.

What is there to expect with dating in your twenties anyway?

Plus, Minho’s well, Minho. If he wanted to, he likely would’ve flat-out asked already.

Something you’re surprised about, however, is the triangular string decor swooping from the ceiling, the party hats by the sink, a single birthday candle placed in the center of a cupcake. Simple, perfect.

Although, the perfect factor came with the man responsible, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, bracing himself on the countertop with a particular glow in his irises—whether it be from the lit candle you aren’t sure—that sets your stomach into a garden of butterflies.

A surprise party. He threw you a surprise birthday party.

And it’s then as enter the kitchen, brain barely recognizing each advance forward, you realize it.

You really, really want to date him.

And you really, really don’t want to screw this up.

Staring at each other, you rise up on your toes to place a careful, feather-light peck on the smooth, flushed skin of his cheek.

Slowly, he turns his head, a conniving smirk revealing the outline of his teeth whilst investigating your breathlessness.

“Someone’s daring,” He mumured, cocking a brow amusedly.

You poke his side, groaning that he shouldn’t look too far into it before he nudges you, your frown returned with a subtle nod—directed at the forgotten cupcake.

“Well you already gave me a kiss, so wish for something else.”

“Choke,” You respond, but there’s still no bite to it. Some things never change.

Minho gently holds your hair back for you, allowing you to lean over and blow out the candle. No bite.

Your wish?

Let Minho and I go well. I like us.

Every bit of it was the truth.

Hopefully this wish of yours can come true.

Maybe.

Seated on the living room floor do you finally relax, your shoulders slumping down after hours of monstrous tension. Seems you’d forgotten he was your best friend before anything else.

“So.. how does this work?”

‘Work’ as in, the dating deadline’s here, what’s next?

He purses his lips—a habit of his—blinking rapidly.

“Like friends? Except we get the kissing and sex pass in between, right?”

You smack his shoulder. He smiles, childishly extending his pinky out to you.

Linking yours, you press the pad of your thumb against his. An unspoken gesture.

“Together?”

Through thick and thin. Your way, as it always was, always had been.

He has stars in his tawny-globes for eyes.

“Together.”

Minho’s hands are warm in the midst of frigid temperatures.

Spring isn’t too far off, but the bitter winds remain ceaseless and unrelenting, whipping your hair every which way, scattering a plethora of goosebumps along your skin.

Never had you held hands like this with someone before, nonetheless Minho, and yet, a connection lies inside the initial awkwardness. The silent assurance, whether it’s his thumb smoothing your palm or occasional squeezes, telling you he understands, that you’re not alone, or how he patiently waited by the door the entire time you were getting ready, claiming he didn’t want to dirty your place with his shoes.

It’s sort of revitalizing. Curious and inquisitive in his lingering touches, additional notes—reminders on your coffee cup, questions asking whether you want to stay over afterward, if he can give you a kiss on the cheek.

One in particular you recall:

I miss you. Scribbled in bleeding ink.

Your introduction as lovers had been a field day of trials and questions for the two of you, though when it came down to the public’s knowledge, you began debating on the “curiosity killed the cat” theory.

This morning, catching a glimpse of the company’s logo in the distance, you assign yourself as the cat. Too interested, now suffering the consequences.

Granted, you wouldn’t take back moving to relationship status, but it was a lot easier to brush off comments if you were Minho.

Hyeongmi being the main one responsible for said comments.

Morning passed by seamlessly, prioritizing work above all else, too busy typing away to for any interruptions.

..Until a midday conference.

Seated right next to each other, his fingers slowly thread with yours beneath the table, sending the man a perplexed (and slightly nervous) expression in response.

More so, the comforting casualness caused you to barely recognize Mrs. Song reaching below to fetch her fallen pen, a gasp of surprise stilling the conversation at her realization.

“Are you- Are you two holding—?”

Panicked, you smack his hand away, stomach plummeting.

Not expecting him to stubbornly grab your hand again, a miniature frown draws across his perfectly rose lips.

Pouting.

Lee Minho is pouting because you’re not letting him hold your hand.

Unbelievable.

If the situation could escalate further, the she-devil herself (Hyeongmi) throws her head down to spare a glimpse, allowing you to fully accept your demise. A demise that, one way or another, needed to happen.

This was simply an early death.

“You’re kidding! No way you guys are a thing?” The eccentric girl mouths the last words, eyebrows drawn to her hairline.

And just like that, your relationship with Minho ventured out of your pocket and into a brand new wilderness.

“So…what’s it like living everybody’s dream?”

Headed to the bathroom, Hyeongmi stops you, leaned over the mirror, carefully inspecting her plum-colored lipstick.

“What?” You pique, confusedly glancing between her and the empty stall you’re trying to nonchalantly slip into.

“I mean, the entire company’s talking about it. Tell me, are you guys actually official? Or is this all just for the attention? No offense, but-“

“I...”

Want to punch you in the face.

You keep it to yourself.

“I’m gonna go.”

Synonymously, both your bladder and your appetite completely disappeared.

Although, she doesn’t leave you alone.

You’re frantically searching for excuse after excuse, speed-walking and taking the stairs any chance available.

Unfortunately for you, she’s everywhere. At some point you’re certain a tracking device is hidden somewhere on your clothes.

Almost there. From silently pleading help with your eyes to legitimately hiding in your workplace, today couldn’t have been more of a joke.

Or so you thought.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, Hyeongmi?”

“With Minho,” She nervously fiddles with her earrings. “You don’t have to tell me but.. how’s the bedroom?”

Apparently, it can go lower.

Before you can respond to her shamelessness, a grip fastens on your shoulders, cologne distinct enough you can tell exactly who it is.

Your beach day.

“Hyeongmi, you do realize that’s rude, yeah? Let’s not cross boundaries we shouldn’t cross, got it?”

All the while Minho smiles, this cloying, “I dare you” sort of attitude no one can argue with.

Averting her attention, she speedily raises up, humorlessly laughing off the tension while excusing herself from the room.

“You okay?” He whispers, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, pressing a chaste kiss there.

Yeah, there’s no getting used to this.

“Yep,” You say, though there isn’t much sincerity it.

He knows.

“Wait for me here, let’s walk home together.”

Ah. You want to kiss him.

“Minho.”

He turns on his heel.

Kiss me.

You’re holding his collar now, the option on the tip of your tongue, his lips a hairbreadth from yours.

Close, closer.

No. Not yet.

Either way, what do you know about kissing? What if you screw up?

Not yet.

“..Okay.”

Your gaze flits down to his lips if only for a second. A small, cheeky grin adorning his face as he follows your movements.

It’s hard to focus when he leaves, because all you can think about is the possibilities. What if you had kissed him? Would he have kissed you back?

By the way looked at you, the logical response would be: yes. Most people don’t stare at someone like that without the intent to kiss them, right?

Though somehow, you can’t help but feel unprepared, a complete novice in this battlefield of love.

Where Minho took you afterward was a mystery, merely happy to be away from the confines of your desk—letting his eager hand guide you wherever he pleased.

Shielded beneath the shade of two trees, your destination, Yeouido Park, is a spectacle during the transition period of winter to spring. You’d oftentimes spend hours here, basking in the relief a break grants. A spectacle where you two first truly met.

“Alright, be honest with me.”

He spins you around till you’re face to face, carefully analyzing your facial expression.

“Are you really okay? After Hyeongmi said that, I couldn’t stop thinking..”

Oh. That careful crease in his eyebrows, sympathetic.

He’s breaking your heart.

You realize now why everyone falls in love with him.

“Of me?”

The words come out involuntarily, a step forward in the newness, paving light through the darkened abyss.

“Yeah..” He says, a little winded while doing so.

Minho cares, he always had, yet, it’s your first time hearing it aloud.

“Y/n.”

Blinking yourself back into reality, your face grows warm, not intending to deliberately space out right in front of him.

He leans forward, causing you to shrink back into your skin as a kiss is planted right atop your nose, the man wearing a satisfied grin.

“Hey- You can’t- It’s not Valentines yet—“

“And why would I wait until Valentine’s day?”

Another deeper red burns your cheeks, and you scorn the way he gets under your skin—a way that makes every insult dissolve like powder on your tongue.

He notices, but decides not to prod further, lightly bumping your hip with his own as a signal to follow.

“Tomorrow is the day, y’know,” You mumble, kicking rocks with the tip of your shoe.

“Are we gonna turn into those couples?” He asks, pretentiously puckering his lips, eyes squinted shut.

You burst out laughing.

“I would break up with you first, sorry Minho.” Said puckered lips transform into a playful scowl.

“What? No treat for valentines?”

Blinking babydoll eyes up at you, you wrinkle your nose, coming to recognize what “treat” he was implying.

Earlier you would’ve kissed instantly, but an inkling of stubbornness kept you from giving into him this time.

Sneaking behind you, he ducks down, voice low enough for only your ears to hear.

“Didn’t seem you were too against it earlier.”

And with that, he races off, entirely too happy with himself and not likely to live down your reaction. Because you can’t disagree.

Since when were Lee Minho’s lips so kissable?

Knock.

Knock.

Your attention strays from the mirror at the sound, wondering if it was simply a figment of your imagination only for the sound to ensue.

Knock. Knock.

Who would be at your door at this hour in the middle of the week?

There’s a name on your tongue, but you don’t contemplate any longer, tiptoeing to the doorway to peer through the peephole.

And the sight before you makes every ounce of suspicion worthwhile.

Minho, holding a bouquet of roses and things unknown behind his back, is reciting.

He’s staring at his shoes, bouncing back and forth on his heels nervously.

Lee Minho is nervous.

Wanting just to stand there and watch him rehearse, you finally give in after a third knock scares you out of your wits—hesitantly opening the door and trying to placate the most surprised expression possible.

His eyes round as saucers, you literally watch the gears in his head turn in real time, extending the flowers out to you.

“Happy valentines. These are uh, for you.”

And his ears are red.

You’re going to implode from how cute this is.

Attempting to stave down the alarming amount of happiness you’re experiencing, you hold the flowers in one hand, awaiting whatever lie behind his back.

Although, as the outline of a box of chocolates appears, so does… a shampoo bottle.

What.

Bathing in a long silence, you can’t help but wonder you’re genuinely hallucinating. Glancing from his face to the literal shampoo in hand, he mirrors you, confused for a reason you’re trying to figure out as well.

“Is that… a shampoo bottle?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you were running low the last time I came here.”

…

You’ve never received a valentine before, but this automatically took the cake.

Is it possible to fall in love after you’re given a shampoo bottle as a gift on valentines? Apparently so.

Nonetheless, work flashed past, barely able to register a thing between the many congratulations you received and the absence of Hyeongmi (assumed to be due to the brown-haired charmer beside you).

For now, you savor the freedom of the day, finally able to escape the pains of before and wallow in a new kind of excitement. Love.

Love delivered by Minho himself in the form of mini scraps he’s folded into hearts, slipping heart after heart onto your desk at any opportunity to the point you bump his leg beneath the table in warning.

He cheekily smirks in return, stupidly innocent face scheming with malice.

He’s getting an absolute kick out of this, and you hate to admit you enjoy it just as much.

As usual, you wait behind for him to catch up on your daily commute home—an activity you did long before any romantic feelings became involved.

That’s it. Minho’s pinpoint of romance.

Shampoo bottle, walks home, extra coffee, notes.

Minho doesn’t openly express his love, not unless he feels either adventurous or obligated. Instead, he studies. Your habits, the things you enjoy, your actions, preferences. That particular coffee order you liked, how you had ran out of shampoo.

Oh how you love him.

Though, rounding the sidewalk to your place, Minho grabs ahold of your wrist. In response, as soon as you turn your head, you’re mere centimeters from his face, simply standing there, proximity willing either of you not to move.

Initial words dying out, he slightly edges to the side, cocked in a way that has your mind racing.

Nose, cheek, but never lips.

No.

Your hands act before any other part of you, blocking his lips from yours.

“We-“

The look he’s giving you, shock.

You feel a hundred degrees hotter.

“We need to go inside,” You excuse yourself fast, the man tailing behind, grip still loosely attached to your wrist.

Quickly shutting the door behind you, it’s an immediate embarrassment flooding your frame that allows you to speak, words bursting outward in an uncontrollable cacophony.

“Minho I’m so sorry I have no idea what I was doing, I shouldn’t have done that, it was a stupid idea. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything-“

“Hey, slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

His tone serves as the much needed breeze fanning your face, cooling you down enough to articulate sentences properly.

“I’m sorry, we’ve just never kissed on the lips and I feel like I’m gonna be horrible and kill the mood. This is stupid, I know, just.. bear with me please?”

His eyebrows furrow, forming together the equation piece by piece.

“You’ve.. You’ve never had your first kis—?”

You hush him furiously, slumping onto the couch dejectedly.

Yet, Minho doesn’t laugh nor pick fun regardless of how hilariously idiotic the occasion is. He’s quiet, concerned almost.

You add that to your long list of things you love about him.

Inhaling gradually, your focus flits to the window, collecting yourself, easing the frantic rush-hour traffic rampaging in your skull.

If you were one of those paper hearts he made, he’s pulling apart each careful fold in this very moment. Unraveling the layers till your bare self is exposed in all its anxiousness.

“I hate it. It feels like a part of that teenage youth everyone talks about is something I’ll never get to experience. I was too busy caring about school, and now I feel like I’ve missed out.”

Soaking in a quietness, you jump when he places a hand over yours, softly tracing the skin of your knuckles, glossy as he watches, carving each perfect aspect of you into memory.

“Well you may not be seventeen, but you’re never too old to learn to kiss.”

One hand cupping your jaw to garner your attention, you’re met with a glass-like visage.

Gentle.

“And I can teach you how.”

It’s always been business, you’ve always been business. Which is why, now confronting what feels to be the highest peak in your love life, you’re left a completely blank canvas. No rules, no instructions.

It’s terrifying.

“Min- Minho, I really haven’t done this before.”

You hastily pique, scooting backward in the cushions.

Curse the shakiness of your voice.

“If you don’t want to do this, tell me. We won’t.”

You quickly shake your head.

No, you want this, you’ve wanted this too badly to back out now.

“Then let’s take it slow, okay?”

It’s horrifically awkward at first, a tiny peck, then a bit longer till your arms creep over his shoulders, his fingers once holding your jaw steady now resting on your neck.

Best word to describe it? Messy.

“Breathe through your nose.”

“Minho— I’m suffocating here—“

You sputter back, quite literally heaving for breath.

Yes, it was otherworldly kissing him, and he was an insanely good kisser, but did this really require your lungs to practically burst?

“Are you teaching me how to give a blowjob or kiss?”

His smile transforms mischievously, a sneering laugh slipping past. You already know he’ll make a sly comment.

Minho winks. “We’ll get to that later.”

“I lost my urge to date you. Bye.”

“Noooo Y/n~” He whines profusely, warm hold on your waist beckoning another kiss filled with hushed giggles and incessant jeers from either party—ensuing a halfway unbuttoned shirt and quite possibly the most greedy ten minutes known to man.

Out of breath, he pulls back from your stomach, the ticklish feather-light kisses planted there earning a stifled giggle from you while he blinks upward, seeming to be focused on something.

“Minho?” You question, ignorant to how unbelievably obsessed with you he is, more than ever in this moment.

From your damp, sweaty skin to the few hairs stuck to your forehead. Your swollen lips, the way you laugh, your stomach dipping with the action. He doubts he’ll ever get tired of this.

Reaching forward as if caught in a trance, he tenderly tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, voice barely audible upon pressing his forehead against yours.

And in the seclusion of your living room, tangled up together on the sofa, it’s just the two of you existing in this world.

“I hope you know I really meant it when I said I thought you were pretty too.”

Ah. He remembers. All that time ago.

Of course he does.

Kissing you for a time you can’t remember, you begin to wonder if that birthday wish of yours had came true after all.

Your feelings for Minho had always existed somewhere inside of you. Your head, your heart. A tiny inkling into something more, a could be. Two individuals wishing, waiting to make a move.

It seems the Valentines Pact sealed the deal.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @gimmeurtmi @jisuperboard @porang-poranglinos @palindrome969 @stayceebs97 @inniescandy-01 @idklin0

[noven-warsh]

Someone on twt said that Denji's a heartless asshole so I decided to cook up an entire thread showcasing the times he wasn't, which I'm gonna copy-paste over here (because I love wasting my time responding to useless stuff)

Introduction Arc:

♥ He tells Pochita that he can use his body to live a normal life ♥ He offers the little girl to run away with him and her devil because he empathizes with her

Bat Devil Arc:

♥ He empathizes with Power, even though she betrayed him and sacrificed him for the Bat Devil ♥ Tells this one random girl to flee, even though he doesn't have to ♥ He unnecessarily holds Power when he finds her in the midst of the devil's organs

Eternity Devil Arc:

There's a good chance he feels bad for Aki shielding him here (it might be a reach tho idk)

Katana Man Arc:

♥ He contemplates if he’s heartless for not crying for Himeno, even though it’s clear that he didn't because he wasn't that close to her ♥ He protects a girl from becoming collateral damage by Katana Man

Bomb Girl Arc:

♥ He starts crying at a scene of two guys simply hugging ♥ He straight up forgives Reze and even considers her offer of running away, despite her being a mass murderer and beating the shit out of him

International Assassins Arc:

♥ He starts running away from Santa's dolls because he recognizes them as innocent people and doesn't want to murder them ♥ This panel

Interlude: He rejects Makima's offer because he wanted to take care of Power

Gun Devil Arc: He constantly begs Aki to wake up and return to his senses, cries when he lands the finishing blow, and spends the days after that broken down from the fight

Control Devil Arc:

♥ He loses the will to live because Power and his newfound family won't be there with him anymore ♥ He chooses to eat Makima not as an attack but as an act of love ♥ He decides to raise Nayuta with love and care, despite her being the reincarnation of a someone who caused him great harm

PART TWO

Introduction Arc: He saves a cat from falling off a building

Asaden Date Arc:

♥ He offers Asa starfish (which means he listened to her entire lengthy talk about fish) when he finds her hungry and alone ♥ Admits that his obsession with money (recycling cigarettes, stealing money and selling hats) is so Nayuta could go to college

Falling Devil Arc: He shows empathy for Asa and tries to talk her out of letting herself succumb to falling

Chainsaw Man War Arc: -

♥ You can see him feeling sympathy for Fumiko's family ♥ He tries refusing Nayuta's offer (with lots of advantages) because he still likes Asa and wants their relationship to somehow work

♥ He constantly worries for Nayuta, from snapping out of his manic phase when he sees her hurt, to his waking thoughts being her, to straight up accepting anything as long as he finds her

[are-you-still-writing-that]

Yandere!Sanzu - Final Timeline

This took me a moment, when I finally sat down to look at this idea! Especially because the final future timeline is a single chapter, where we only get a few glimpses at Sanzu and the knowledge what he does for work – which is not a lot...

Still I tried my best:

Final Future Yandere Sanzu Headcanons

I do believe, that while this Sanzu has lived through less trauma than before, many of his core characteristics would stay the same in the end. He is still Sanzu after all. He still has the personality – and with that the violence – needed to make it in a gang.

His image is what changed drastically. He is more grounded in his familial relations, as he works with his sister and his brother is still part of his life. Something, that will make him less likely to go off the deep end immediately – though he is still capable of that.

Sanzu would still be incredibly possessive, while being disturbingly affectionate, but you would be spared the blood dripping from his hands. He stays manipulative and someone that regularly considers a murder-suicide, if he gets the feeling that it would be the only way that he can have you.

It starts innocently enough and if you ever knew what would follow, you would have never hit play.

You have been seeing the two siblings more often on your YouTube page. Every now and then they would pop up and one day you simply decided „Why not“. It´s not like you had anything better to do at the moment and with how often they had already popped up, they seemed to be pretty popular.

That was your first mistake:

An hour and three other videos later, you are still absorbed in the videos by these siblings. They are kinda funny, a bit strange, yes – but pretty enough that it didn´t bother you too much.

It doesn´t take long, till you started to comment on their page. Over and over again. You didn´t expect a response from them; they must get thousands of comments every day and yet...

He somehow notices you anyway and sends you a message in return

Here you make mistake number two:

You answer. He is even weirder than you expected. Charming, but you aren´t quite sure if some of his more violent and vicious remarks are truly jokes or something he actually means. (He does mean them. You learn that much later. When it´s already too late.)

You might be becoming something akin to friends. You write each other for weeks. Exchanging little titbits about each others life. (You never learn that he made a note of everything.) Playfully complaining about one thing or the other. You get comfortable with him and so think nothing of it, when he asks to meet up.

Your next mistake:

You agree. (You will repeat this mistake over and over again.) You set up a date with him, and no matter how strange it was you somehow decide not to ghost him. (It´s the last mistake you ever make)

He is... charming, you think. Strange. But polite. You didn´t think it was possible that he would be even prettier in real life, but he somehow is...

The conversation flows easily, every time you stumble he picks it back up again like it´s nothing. It is incredible easy to talk to him. Far easier than you ever imagined

Before you know it, he has you wrapped around his finger

With glee you agree to meet him again, hope that this connection you felt to him wasn´t just one-sided, and anticipate the next date with a nervous jitter

When he asks you out, again and again, it only feels natural to agree

Your very last mistake is one you already made:

Later, when you got comfortable meeting him, he pulls you in front of the camera. He is, or at least he seems to be, flustered to put you on the spot like this, but you agree. Wave off his worries. What is the worst that could happen by appearing in his videos?

People. Attention. His fame. But mostly people. That is the worst that could happen.

They notice you far too clearly. Point out every little flaw and mistake. Your every insecurity. At first only online – one terrifying day, on the street as well

Your face is suddenly known and whispers seem to follow you. They found first your accounts and then your address.

It´s a hard time for you, but through it all one man never leaves your side. He stands by you. Privately and publicly. He wipes the tears from your face and you never quite notice how heavily he blushes when you cry.

Sanzu is perfect in your eyes. Your knight in shining amour, who consoles you, comforts you and defends you.

There is no way for you to run now:

You can´t leave him without people judging you harshly – even more so, than they already do

No matter where you go, eyes seem to follow you

You feel the pressure that is constricting your ever move – and it scares you. He doesn´t seem to feel it and when you complain, he simply smiles

It is while you talk about the attention and how you believe that you should maybe stop seeing him for a while – just as long as it takes to calm his fans back down, that he moves

The pocket knife he pulled is just resting on your throat and he is smiling

„If you ever even think about walking away from me I will first kill you and then myself. Do you understand, darling?“

He muses about it with a dreamy smile, how cute it would be for the two of you to die together. He grins at you as if you would agree.

After a moment of tense silence, you do.

It is the only thing you can do

He uses his fame to draw you in and then shares it with you, simply to isolate you from the rest.

Neither of his siblings care to stop him and it´s not like they think that well of you either

Sanzu appears terribly in love to them, and you just seem jealous of him

They won´t step in. Mainly, because they simply do not believe you.

You are on your own here. And you simply made one mistake after the other, without realizing it.

[misterspectacular]

My elaborate "how I'd make Burnsmithers canon" episode goes like this

One day Burns is noticeably softer, he came to the realization how much Smithers means to him. Always being with him and caring for him. Burns tries really hard, and fails at first, but he eventually tells Smithers how important he is to him, and Smithers in the moment decides to confess. Of course he's like "I'd never expect it to change our relationship, but I do want to say it with my full chest. Sir, I truly love you. Everyday I'm blessed just to be put on this earth to serve you. You've brought my life meaning", something like that. And Burns finally realizes it. It makes sense, and he accepts it. The episode continues with them slowly building the confidence to spend more time together outside of work related duties. It's like a quick timeline of events, important details or whatever of them dating. At the end, Burns asks Smithers' hand in marriage. (Tax benefits totally)

So it cuts to their wedding day, Burns is walked down the aisle because he's the most specialist little princess. Everyone is contemplating if they should be happy because it's a wedding or like "the fuck????? Okay nevermind he's marrying Smithers, that's the only mother fucker who can handle his ass" (The food is really fucking good though)

Yes... Burns walks up. Content with where life is heading.

That is until Burns trips and hits his head face flat on the floor. Completely unconscious.

2 options

The funny one: Burns just fucking dies, roll the credits.

The angst: Burns lives but he forgets their entire romantic relationship, and is yelling why Smithers would joke about them getting married or being in a relationship, especially since he almost died.

The show goes back to the status quo the next episode

Haha I was thinking about the tax benefits the other day. I could imagine that being the sole reason (or at least he pretends its the sole reason) Mr. Burns decided to marry Smithers in an episode.

Mr. Burns: Smithers! Fetch my tuxedo, we're getting married.

Smithers: Wha- what?! Really?! Sir, you've made me so happy! After all this time, you've finally realized we're perfect for each other!

Mr. Burns: (Chuckles) Oh, good gracious, no! I could simply use the tax break. And remember, if you divorce me and request alimony, I'll have you killed! (Smiles and wags finger)

Smithers: Surprisingly... that's fine by me.

I did some research on the subject and apparently you don't get tax breaks if both partners in the marriage are well-off financially. Smithers is able to spend a good deal of money (often on Mr. Burns, but with his own paycheck), so I would say he's well-off. I do wonder how that would work, too, if your partner is your boss (I just looked it up and apparently the boss would still have to pay for their employee's/spouse's social security/medicare taxes for them. But since Burns already does that -- supposedly, who knows what he gets away with haha -- that's not entirely relevant).

I mean, they could find a way around it. If Mr. Burns decided to stop paying Smithers, Smithers would then NOT be well-off, and THEN they'd get a tax break. It was said if one partner is financially sound while the other isn't, they get the tax break. So they could come to some kind of agreement, where Mr. Burns supports Smithers (by doing the bare minimum, of course, as Mr. Burns isn't quick to hand money out, especially if he doesn't have to). Smithers would have to be considered unemployed, though, because legally Mr. Burns would have to pay his employee at least minimum wage (which I would assume hes doing already). Perhaps they could decide on Smithers instead becoming a volunteer HAHA. He's fired, and returns as a volunteer. I feel like Smithers would go along with it -- I do think his love for his job stems solely from the fact that it puts him in close proximity to Mr. Burns and allows them to spend nearly every waking moment together. Being a volunteer expected to do the same tasks would be quite the same, and if he's supported financially, through the marriage rather than the work (at least enough to thrive), I don't think he'd mind. I mean, he's married to Mr. Burns, dream come true.

I'm not fully informed on TAX STUFF but this is what I've deduced based on research.

YES he hits his head and has amnesia and forgets everything. But being married is so much like what they already have, I can imagine Mr. Burns wouldnt even notice a difference if Smithers didnt say anything HAHA! Like he just assumes they're sharing a bed merely so that he can absorb Smithers warmth.

Mr. Burns: You mean there's SENTIMENT attached to this?! (complete shock as Smithers spoons him)

[quietlyblooms]

bad moon rising | modern fantasy ii

chiyoko hisakawa died one fall evening, found too late by her cousin naoki in a pool of her own blood. perhaps it was just her luck -- wrong place and wrong time -- or perhaps her death was more than that. it would be hard to say because the one responsible would never be found, having left little evidence behind other than the wounds that chiyo would succumb to. there would never be an investigation, either, because while chiyoko hisakawa died one fall evening, she did not remain dead.

harnessing magic forbidden long ago, naoki brought his cousin back. but she came back different, changed. she was no longer mortal but a vampire, and the transition was not kind to her. she awoke alone in the apartment above her family's shop, left with a note explaining everything and quarts of blood. it'll be hard at first, but you need to eat, naoki wrote. if you keep yourself fed, you'll have nothing to worry about.

yet there is still plenty to worry about. she cannot exist among humans without the fear that she'll hurt them, still growing accustomed to her new senses, diet, and instincts. she cannot see her family for the same reason, and she's had to push back her manga's return date to give herself more time to adjust. there is also the matter of her visions.

for now, naoki has taken over hisakawa and family's night shift, and it is only a matter of time before word gets out that chiyo is not simply sick.

additional notes

i've decided that this verse is a continuation of her witch verse, meaning it is canon and not just an indulgent au anymore. i just think that'll be more interesting overall and present opportunities for fun plots!

that being said, chiyo still has her magic and her familiar jun, which are a few of the only comforts she has currently. she has also become aware of her visions manifesting in her art; after her revival, she happened to look at a few of her paintings and realized she painted notable objects/scenes relating to her own death. she isn't coping well with this tbh

chiyo's senses are still sensitive, although she can be around a human without wanting to tear into them. she just doesn't trust herself in the event that they cut themselves and thus avoids them.

though chiyo still technically lives in the apartment above her family's shop, she will often stay with cyrillo de bortolli, an influential and old vampire who is a prominent figure in the supernatural community. he owns apartments which mainly house other supernatural beings, though he has opened his own home to chiyo for the time being so that he might help her adjust. if you're curious about him, you can go here, though ofc i'm using his modern verse rather than his main! i may use this as an opportunity to test him out again on this blog uvu

the way chiyo was turned into a vampire isn't a method that is widely used or known anymore bc it's considered " black magic. " it's really just forbidden necromancy, but most will likely assume another vampire turned her. do with that what you will!

if you see an opportunity for a plot, please go for it -- that's part of why i've left the reason for chiyo's death very vague. i could come up with my own plot, but i think it'll be fun if that's something we come up with together!

[xonceuponafuckxx]

---

She didn't like the fact that he wasn't willing to let her go, but she did understand the logic that this person that had taken her would likely come looking for her again if she went back to life as normal. The information that he was giving her made her head spin. This person was some kind of shapeshifter and they had decided that she was someone whose identity was worth stealing.

"I-I... My name is Heather Gordon. I'm just a secretary for Congressman Singer." She didn't understand how that made this happen to her. He was right though, there had to be something and the only thing that made sense was her job. There had to be people more powerful that had less security than the congressman himself. But, it did make some sense as she thought about it. "N-nobody would even notice... Nobody ever a-actually looks at me. I don't have any family, I barely socialize. I'm an easy target." She pursed her lips together, trying to pull herself together a bit. "It's b-because I'm a loser."

She didn't think she could feel worse than just being kidnapped and locked away in a suitcase. But, realizing that she was in this whole situation because she was nobody hurt. Heather was lonely, but she had never thought that the way she lived her life would put her in such a horrible situation. "Can't I just... I could just resign? Right? Th-that's what's so important, my stupid job. I could just not do that anymore. It'd be safe to just send me home."

It felt a little stupid trying to barter to go home when she was bound naked in a suitcase, but it seemed like she might have a chance if she just quit her job when she was returned.

Eddie kept a steady gaze on her as she spoke, letting her get through her thoughts without interruption. He knew from experience that sometimes, simply letting someone talk it all out of their system without prompting or guidance could yield the most useful information. Of course her circumstances would make her into an easy target. If, indeed, she was unlikely to be missed or even noticed, then it wouldn’t take much effort for someone to steal her identity. When she took a long moment to consider what she’d just said, he pursed his lips and bobbed his head somberly at her. “Tell you what, Heather Gordon… I know a little somethin’ about bein’ a loser,” he said, and for a moment he felt his heart go out to her. When she again tried to plead her case to be returned home, he blasted a sigh through his nose. “Sorry, but goin’ back to normal just can’t happen right now, no matter how much you might want it. Think about it. Why’d your kidnapper keep you alive? Maybe they think you know something they don’t. Or maybe they need you as a livin’ reference. See? Too many question marks here. Best chance for you to get outta this nightmare is…” He lets his shoulders slump in a reluctant sigh. “…yeah. We’re gonna have to take you with Us, for now. An’ unfortunately that means you’re gonna have to hold tight in here.”

Heather shivered, whimpering and shaking her head as he said that she needed to stay there. "N-no... No, please? Please d-don't do this? J-just... You c-can just let me go? I swear, I w-won't... I won't tell anyone. Please?" She was terrified. This person hadn't done anything to her, but she was still literally bound in a suitcase in the back of the car. It was not something that made someone feel very safe.

She found out that she'd been kidnapped by a shapeshifter who was likely trying to kill her boss using her face to do it. Heather had gone on all of three dates in the past year and it seemed that each one was determined to be worse than the last. But, honestly, this one just absolutely took the cake. "I'll g-go off the grid. I'll become a nun. My momma always wanted me to do somethin' good for others. I'll become a nun an' you'll never ever hear anythin' about me again. I swear.

She didn't know what to do. She was fully panicking because she wasn't sure how to get to go back. She didn't even need her entire life back. Her life wasn't that great. It was good and she was completely fine being nobody. But, it didn't make her feel rooted to that life. She could drop it and just become a nun. After how this 'date' was going, she was more than willing to swear off men and live tucked away in a convent.

Eddie’s lips twisted to one side as Heather continued to plead for release. It was a sadly familiar song. He almost wanted to admit to her that she was far from the first captive he’d ever had… though the previous ones had been food or bait, never meant for the long term. In that aspect, Heather was his first. "Honey bun, I get you’re probably scared to death right now an’ you wanna be at the bargaining phase real bad, but problem is… long as that shapeshifter is out there tryin’ to steal your life, you’re in danger, no matter what you do with yourself.” With that statement, he pressed the rubber ball of the gag to her lips and wedged it between her teeth, then clamped his hand across her filled mouth while his other hand worked to cinch the buckles back into place. The lock, though, he slid into his pocket. “I get it’s not gonna look or feel like it right now… but We’re gonna do Our best to keep you safe.” He stroked her cheek, then leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. “We’re goin’ somewhere I can let you outta there and give you some clothes an’ food. Hang tight.” He gently pushed her back down into the suitcase and zipped it closed, then shut the trunk and returned to the driver’s seat. This was going to be a long and very interesting night. ~°~ An hour and a half later, Eddie was reopening the trunk and pulling out the suitcase containing Heather. Wordlessly, he bore the case up a flight of split-level stairs, and then there was the sound of a lock being opened, followed by the distinct sensation of crossing a threshold. Eddie double-locked the door behind him and put the suitcase down on a soft surface. When he unzipped and opened the lid, the interior of the case was flooded with the off-white of motel lighting. “Rise an’ shine, honey bun,” he murmured, reaching into the case to scoop her fully up into his arms.

When he put the gag back into her mouth, she tried to shake her head and use her tongue to force the gag back out. Heather whimpered and cried, pleading behind the gag for him to let her go. Heather swore that she wasn't anything important and that she would give up even the little life she'd made if he would just let her go. She sobbed, shaking her head and pleading behind the gag as she tried to wiggle in the binds. As he kissed her forehead, Heather was still. He hadn't hurt her, it just surprised her and she was terrified.

Heather started trying to struggle when he told her to hang tight and shut the suitcase. She continued to struggle and plead for a few minutes before finally just getting tired enough to sit still. Time didn't really mean anything to her from inside the case, losing track of it as they drove. The only thing that really jolted her was the case being taken from the trunk. She struggled and tried to make some kind of noise behind the gag in case it was a public place. Some part of her was sure that he wouldn't allow someone else to find her, but she had to try.

When light finally flooded the case, she blinked slowly and winced. She shivered in his arms, trembling in fear and for the fact that she was naked. Heather was more afraid now, sobbing and pleading behind the gag. Her entire body shook as she panicked and tried to frantically do anything to not have this all be happening. She was nobody. This kind of thing wasn't supposed to happen to a nobody.

Eddie wasn’t indifferent to, or ignorant of, Heather’s efforts to make noise inside the suitcase… but he’d chosen his location carefully. And as he held her to his chest, he watched her for a long moment, allowing her to wriggle and squirm in her bonds without making any attempts to convince her not to. It was only when she sagged, panting through her nose and around the edges of her lips, that he finally cooked an eyebrow at her. “I know you’re not even all done with this,” he advised her, “but I didn’t want you in that suitcase anymore. Your limbs gotta be stiff as boards, an’ I can only imagine how sore your back is. So here’s what’s happenin’ next… I’m gonna lay you out on the bed, nice an’ slow, give you a chance to stretch at least a little bit.” He turned in place, still holding her aloft, letting her look around at the accommodations. It was a modest motel room… single bed, tube television, clock radio on the bedside table. “Now, We wanna help you out. But it’s gonna have to be on Our terms.” He set her down on the bed slowly, giving her limbs several moments to get used to the shift in posture. He made a point of laying her on the side she hadn’t been trapped on inside the suitcase as he examined the straps securing her wrists and elbows behind her. His hand dipped into his pocket and withdrew the small lock he’d stowed there earlier. With his free hand, he circled her neck, not gripping it hard but using it as leverage while he slid the lock into place through the gag buckles, ensuring it stayed in place. Then his fingers took to the straps holding her wrists and arms, and tugged the buckles apart, finally letting her arms fall free. “Take your time,” he encouraged, as he stepped back and away. “Gimme a sec, lemme grab you a towel.” A moment later, he was retrieving the largest towel available from the tiny bathroom and bringing it to her, setting it down beside her. Then he frowned when he noticed the stream of saliva trickling from the corners of her lips and down the front of her chin. “Probably should do somethin’ about that, too…” And without even thinking about it, a tentacle made of liquid black erupted from the center of his palm and snaked through the air and into the bathroom, from which it pulled a washcloth. In less than a moment’s time, the tentacle was retracting back into his hand and bringing the washcloth amidst his fingers. He leaned forward, intent on wiping her face and chin with it, like nothing unusual had happened at all.

Heather shivered, looking around the room as he held her up. It seemed like a simple enough place, but being in a hotel room made her think that there might be people around that she could try to communicate with for help. There was also the concern that whoever had originally taken her would be looking for her or that they would get to finish whatever their plan was while she was stuck there. Perhaps she'd run for help and find out that she was wanted for murder.

When he laid her down and told her to take her time, Heather simply nodded. The gag was locked in place, so she couldn't remove it to scream and she'd heard him lock the door. Heather moved slowly, just trying to stretch a bit. It hurt and she whined softly into the gag, but it needed to happen so that she could start moving on her own.

He covered her with the towel and she was thankful for it. Heather normally dressed very modestly, so this amount of nudity was unusual for her. Especially with a man around. He mentioned the drool and Heather couldn't help feeling a bit embarrassed, reaching up slowly to wipe it away. But, the tentacle whipped out of his hand and shot back to him so quickly.

It stunned her. She jumped, her entire body aching as she attempted to move quickly. Heather didn't care that there was a gag obstructing noise and that her throat already hurt from trying to scream so much. She was screaming her head off, pulling away from him and sitting up. Heather held the towel between her knees and her body, holding her knees against her chest to hide herself more. She wiped the drool with the corner of the towel, not wanting to leave it there. She was scared to try to run, knowing that she'd need to get past him and whatever that tentacle was.

Eddie’s eyes rolled up into his head as he realized the sheer stupidity of allowing the symbiote tentacle to be seen. He hadn’t even said a single word to her yet about what he could do. Screaming was a natural reaction to it, of course, but he might have hoped that presenting more gently and compassionately to her would afford him perhaps wide eyes rather than muffled howling. Well… there was nothing for it now. He lunged forward and across the bed, straddling her still-bound legs beneath his body weight. He grabbed the back of her neck with one hand and clamping his other across her mouth to further muffle the noise erupting from her. “Listen!” he hissed, staring into her frightened eyes. “Look, I’m sorry, that wasn’t cool, an’ I get you’re scared outta your mind, but if I wanted to hurt'cha, don’t you think I’d'uh done it by now? Tryin’ to save you from somethin’ way worse, here.” Then he leaned forward, letting his breath land against her ear. “Now, I really need you to be a good girl for me an’ chill out. You do that for me, I’ll let this gag out again.”

Heather tried to struggle when he grabbed her, but she honestly didn't have very much of a chance. She was scared and didn't have much of an instinct to fight. It was just her swatting at him with her unbound hands until he managed to pin her down. She was a sobbing wreck, unsure how she even had this many tears to still be crying.

He was right and she knew that. He really hadn't hurt her, but he also wasn't planning to let her go. She didn't really know what that meant. Clearly, he could hurt her if he really wanted. Heather screamed for a little while longer, shivering as she finally just ran out of energy. Her eyes fluttered and her body relaxed a bit, screaming finally dropping to whines. Her throat ached and she just couldn't scream anymore. Her muscles had been so tense that she couldn't hold it anymore.

She knew he could outrun her, but a motel meant there had to be someone else around. Someone who could hear her or maybe see her. Her mind was running now that she'd stopped screaming and tensing up. It didn't mean that she knew what to do, just that she was trying to actually think. She nodded slowly, whining into the gag quietly.

It wasn’t until Heather’s whimpers became simply hissing breaths through her nose that Eddie finally lifted his hand from her face, at last providing that little bit of air access around the sphere between her teeth. He pursed his lips at the sight of his own palm, now covered in her saliva. “For a girl who can’t use her tongue right now, sure managed to lick me anyway,” he remarked wryly, and he gingerly wiped his hand off on his pants. “Takes talent.” He dipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew the key to the lock keeping her gag in place, then tugged her head forward – he’d never dropped his grip on the back of her neck – and unfastened both lock and buckle. “Now listen,” he murmured, as he pulled the straps away. “I get we’re strangers and you got no reason at all to trust me, most of all ‘cause I took you an’ you didn’t want me to. Or maybe most of all 'cause I can do scary stuff. I dunno. Just… be chill, would you? For a little bit, anyway. You can tell me you wanna go home, I get it, I want to take you home and let you have your life back, but we gotta lay low for a while. Just… use this chance to ask me stuff an’ tell me what I can get you to eat, 'cause I don’t want you starvin’.”

She glared a bit when he mentioned her licking him, growling a bit into the gag. Heather was aware of him removing the lock and the buckle to the gag, shivering a bit as he pulled the gag away completely. She wasn't sure what to do, but it didn't seem like screaming would do her any good. He was right. This was a chance for her to get some information and food if she was careful.

"I-I..." She took a deep, shaky breath as she tried to get her head together. "I am k-kinda hungry... I'm not picky, I-I swear." Heather wasn't sure how much she could trust him, but she needed to at least cooperate. At least for now. "Wh-what are you exactly? Th-that... That thing from your hand..." Heather didn't know much about people with abilities, but it seemed that she was going to need to start understanding a bit better. She did still consider screaming, but she worried that he would simply be able to quickly quiet her and hide her from anyone who tried to check on them. She needed to be able to move before she could really try anything. "How long do we have to hide? I don't want to be in any trouble or anythin'... I just... I want to go back to normal again."

“A'ight. We can get you somethin’ to eat. Won’t be lavish but a little late night fast food’s gonna be better than whatever KO'ed you right into that suitcase, I’m bettin’.” Eddie took up his phone to put in a drop-off order, wondering briefly why society had taken so long to come up with dashers. Because Your people are slow to consider helping one another without material compensation. It is a self-destructive failing. Hey, cool it, peanut gallery. He lifted his hand and looked at it, wagging his fingers for a moment before flickering his gaze back to Heather. “I’m human. Mostly. Just… got an unusual passenger in my system. Most people like to think He’s a parasite. He prefers the term symbiote. You can probably guess He’s not from around here. Less than a handful'uh His kind in the world. He gets to live in my body, an’ if I need what He can do, He lets me use it.” He waggled his fingers again and put his hand down. “Complicated relationships an’ all that. Anyway, you wanted to know how long we’re gonna hide out. Truth is I dunno. Need to figure out that shapeshifter’s goal first. What it was doin’ with all those valuables, with you… an’ I think we’re gonna have to play keep-away for a while. Maybe someone in your work office will realize it’s not actually Heather at your desk.” He aimed a raised eyebrow at her. “Bet I know what you’re thinkin’, 'cause I probably would be, too. 'How can I get away from this weird-ass guy an’ his alien tar baby?’ Truth is, you probably can’t. But even if you did, you’re not gonna get far on your own at this point. We’re gonna help you, but it’s gonna be on Our terms. Might make you uncomfortable, and I’m personally sorry about that. But it is what it is right now. So, when food gets here, let’s enjoy that, an’ then see if you can get some real rest. We’ll get goin’ in the morning.”

-skip-

Eddie had done his level best to treat Heather with a modicum of compassion during her time with him. They still had the car that he’d found the goods (and her suitcase) inside; after having crossed state lines, it seemed that police were that much less interested in finding them. Now that they’d finally arrived at a new motel, Eddie had rather expected that she would want to rest properly on her own bed. He’d finally let her out of her bonds several days ago, having proven herself trustworthy enough to not flee, and she’d yet to violate his trust. He’d even urged his symbiote to recede fully into his body this night, revealing the fullness of his physique – save for what still existed beneath his underwear – as he prepared for a well-deserved night of sleep. So it was to his surprise that Heather had slid off the side of her bed into the divide between the two, and all but planted herself on the floor between his legs. Her eyes seemed to glitter at him as her tongue reached out to his still-hidden manhood and drew an experimental line along it. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment. It had been way too long since he’d been visited by a woman’s favorable touch… and was there really any harm in letting him indulge? His hand slid into her mane of blonde hair, and his fingers curled amongst her locks. He offered no actual resistance; it was a wordless reminder to her that he would ultimately be the one in control of what happened to them both. He squeezed the handful of hair, not to inspire pain but to draw her attention. When her eyes flicked to him, he murmured to her. “Use your words, Heather.”

-skip-

send in “LAP” for the sender to guide the receiver down to rest their head in their lap.

Heather shivered as Eddie carefully moved her head onto his lap, whimpering and crying. Sometimes, it all just became too much for her to handle. She had never had too many things, preferring to live simply. But, the anonymity and isolation were starting to get to her. She was trapped with a man that she didn’t know and was frankly afraid of. Heather was a runner, so he did still need to keep her carefully under wraps. It was too much for her and she struggled to cope.

Eddie gently stroked Heather’s hair and back, nodding in sympathy. “I know, babe, I get it. You’re feelin’ helpless an’ stuck in a situation that wasn’t your fault, an’ it’s lonely an’ scary. If you can believe it, I know how a lot of it feels. Maybe not the exact way you’re feelin’ it now, but… S'okay. You can cry it out with me.” He stroked her hair again, carding his fingers through it and drifting along her scalp. “Might not always seem like it but I wanna make things right for you. So, can you talk to me about what you need most right now? Let me try to figure out some way I can make it happen.”

Heather wasn't stupid, she knew that he always kept the gag within arm's reach in case she started screaming. She was kept bound because she had a tendency to run. She knew he was going to tie her down tightly before bed, but she couldn't help not really caring when he was just holding her and letting her cry.

"I-I... It's just lonely, ya know? I'm used ta bein' locked away. I know it's because that person is still lookin' for me... But, I just miss goin' out in the sun. I just... I miss people." Heather knew he likely couldn't do much to fix that problem. The entire reason she was there was because she couldn't be seen without it being a risk. But, she just wanted to go outside without the rush of him quickly carrying her when they were moving again. This was the most traveling Heather had ever done and she hadn't seen anything.

Eddie felt his heart going out to her for her earnest reply, and his touch upon her became that much more gentle and thoughtful. He’d gotten used to being an outsider in isolation from others, but Heather’s needs couldn’t be the same as his own. And the fact that she was acknowledging the necessity of hiding her away made it all the more heartbreaking that she wanted what seemed so impossible for her to have. Except… Eddie shifted in place, and his hands went to work on releasing the straps binding her elbows and her wrists together behind her. As he worked, he quietly asked, “What if there was a way I could let you out in the sun for a day or two, an’ be around people? I mean… I’d have to keep you secure, of course, but if it means that much to you, I’d wanna at least try to meet you halfway on it.”

Heather was confused, but she could understand why he was being so dodgy about details on his plan. She was prone to running, so he likely expected him to expect that from her. "I-I... Um... That sounds alright. I can go outside?"

Her entire life had been turned upside down and she really didn't know how to handle it. The straps releasing made her nervous, shivering a bit as she sat up properly. It had started becoming routine. She was tired, she was always tired. Heather did consider trying something, but she didn't want to fight when he was trying to help her and promising her a chance later. So, Heather didn't fight or try anything. She simply sat up and started removing her clothing for bed. Heather had a tendency to hide knives to try escaping and she'd struggled the first few times, but now she simply blushed and tried to hide her body shyly until she was tied down for the night. She sighed, opening her mouth for the gag. Bedtime was when she was the most restricted because she kept trying to escape.

Eddie gave her a nod. “Yeah. I think we can make it work. You’ll be able to be outside. You’ll be able to be around people. But, you can’t run from me. An’ if you’re able to manage that, then I can come up with more opportunities to let you out and about.” He made her lie down, then secured each wrist and ankle, each elbow and knee, so that she was spread-eagled face-down on the bed. He already had the chair off to the side set up for himself, a sheet and pillow ready for his use. Even restrained, she would still get the more comfortable accommodation. He passed his palm along her back and shoulder blades, then affectionately stroked her hair. He could see her open mouth, already waiting for the gag that he’d found her with, but after a sweep of his thumb along her cheek, he shook his head. “Nah. Not gonna strain out your jaw, not gonna make you drool all over yourself tonight.” Instead, a black tentacle oozed out from the inner joint of his elbow and dipped into the duffel bag in which he’d brought Heather into the room, and withdrew a spool of tape that it deposited in his waiting hand. He stroked her cheek again before starting to peel a wide strip away from the spool. “Hey. Before lights out. Is there anything else you need? Anything I can give you?” They’ve already been through a litany of things he couldn’t give her… but it was always a question worth asking each night. It allowed them both to hope things would be a little better each following day.

Heather whined quietly as she was bound to the bed. It was routine, but she was still so nervous about being sprawled out and naked. Heather didn't struggle, simply allowing him to move her as he needed until she was completely bound. She was surprised that he wasn't planning to use the gag, nodding a bit as the tentacle grabbed the tape. That made sense. He did still need to gag her. She would try to scream for help and he'd be asleep. Heather shook her head that she didn't need anything before hesitating. "I-I... Um..."

She was nervous and it did feel stupid. He had her sprawled out on the bed, there wasn't much room. "C-can... Can you... Please? Um... Can you st-stay with me? P-please?" She was struggling to get the words out, starting to cry again. Heather was so nervous and worried. He might be her captor, but she felt so bad inconveniencing him. But, she was so lonely and so scared. Heather was holding on by a thread. She was eating exclusively fast food when she barely had before. She was constantly bound and sometimes gagged. She hadn't been outside of a motel room since getting taken. There was nobody other than him. She needed something to give.

The tremulousness of her voice drove a split between Eddie’s eyebrows. Poor girl. When one took a moment to evaluate what she’d already been through, the only conclusion one could truly draw was that she was at the end of her rope. Her life had been turned completely upside-down and it must have looked as though he was doing so little to help her get back on track. Her space was so narrow, so isolated, and the only person who’s even seen her at all in two weeks, never mind touched her, has been him. A little comfort was the absolute least he could do. He stroked her cheek again. “God. Yeah. Of course I’ll do that.” He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, then looked her in the eyes. “I’ll be right here with you. An’ just… I know I’m not givin’ you the best life ever. But I swear I’m tryin’.” He set aside the spool of tape, then stood back, then pulled his shirt up and off, revealing his full musculature beneath. He’d been a football player and a dedicated weight-lifter in a previous life – his muscles had muscles. His pants, however, he left on, a silent acknowledgment that she might be too embarrassed or frightened of what he intended to do with her in such a position. He picked out a position on the bed settled atop her, but braced so that his weight didnt crush her into the mattress. It was true that with her spread out in the middle of it, things were a bit awkward… but then again, that summed up the entire situation, didn’t it? The warmth of his chest pressed fully against her back, and his mouth was near her ear as he took up the spool again. The sound of the strip tearing away was loud in the quiet of the motel room. “This okay?”

She was nervous, shivering anxiously as he moved over her. There was a fleeting thought that he would hurt her, but it left rather quickly. She shivered a bit as he leaned over her body, the sound of the tape making her flinch as it broke the silence. "I-I... Y-yeah. This is a-alright." Heather knew that he wasn't going to let her go ungagged. She was a flight risk, but it was mostly just because she was so anxious.

It was a bit comforting to at least not be alone, so she could handle the awkwardness of the position to have just some of that comfort of not being alone. She wanted just a little time to not be so alone. Heather couldn't move and she would be gagged soon, so she was more than willing to take whatever kind of human contact that she could get.

"I'm alright... It isn't all bad. I just wanna go home an' not have to worry about what's goin' on. I'm not used to bein' stuck in hotel room... But, I'm tryin'.. I don't wanna feel bad all the time..."

Even though he knew she couldn’t see him from this angle, Eddie still nodded in sympathy. “Yeah. I’m hearin’ ya. It’s not really fair. You deserve to have somethin’ better than this, bein’ just trapped in a room or the suitcase all the time. We’re gonna get you out an’ about. I do wanna give you somethin’ to look forward to, an’ feel good about.” He shifted in place, seeking just the right position for him to settle into atop her. That shifting caused the feel of something solid to brush against the inside of her thigh, and even though it was shrouded by denim, the truth of it was unmistakable. After all, why should it not be? He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should say something about it or not. Should he apologize? Pretend he hadn’t noticed? In most other circumstances, this might be a scene of foreplay rather than of actual captivity. If only she didn’t keep trying to run away every time he untied her. It was on that thought that he finally brought both his hands forward and in front of her face, the strip of tape held between them, and tugged it tightly across her mouth. “Sleep well,” he murmured.

Heather was anxious as she felt an unmistakable bulge against her thigh. She was always nervous, but he really hadn't done anything to hurt her and she didn't think there was really a reason to worry. So, she didn't mention that it had happened. It was just an awkward position because she was tied down and spread out on the bed. That was fine. It was honestly her fault in a way.

Heather accepted the tape over her mouth, knowing that struggling against it wouldn't really get her anywhere. She was literally immobilized other than her head and he was trying to help. It was better to just let him gag her and it honestly wasn't even that bad. As much as she kind of hated it, she was starting to adjust to their routine. She was lonely, but she had honestly been lonely before. People didn't really talk to her much before all of this, but it was the socialization in general that she had missed. It wasn't like there was anyone in particular to go back to, just a desire to not feel alone.

Once the tape was over her mouth, Heather nodded to his words and closed her eyes to try getting some sleep.

Three Hours Later – Had Eddie been sleeping in the chair, nothing would have happened. But he wasn’t sleeping there; instead he was draped across Heather like a man-shaped blanket, and in his sleep, his body had begun shifting about restlessly. It’s entirely possible that in the haze of unconsciousness, his hands didn’t recognize her for who or what she was. But if one were to reflect on it, one would be hard-pressed to answer for how his hands eventually began to slip across her bare skin at various angles. First her arms, then down her sides and hips… one wound up underneath her, sliding up to cup one of her bare breasts, while the other was drifting ever closer to the divide of her legs. And he most certainly could not have been asleep when the stubble of his chin grazed against the crook of her neck, and he breathed a gentle warm breath into her ear. It couldn’t have been coincidence that the soft shudder of that breath came in the same moment that the solid bulge which she’d felt earlier was pressing against her asscheek. Somewhere along the line, he had to know what he was doing… right? His voice sounded quietly against her earlobe. “I don’t want you to feel bad all the time… I wanna make you feel good… I’ll stop if you shake your head no… but I’ll keep going if you nod yes.”

She whined softly in confusion as she started feeling someone touching her. Heather was asleep, barely awake as she whined and moaned. The grip on her breast brought a little more attention, making the intention very clear. This wasn't just movement as they slept, this was intentional. The words were very clear even as she drifted along the line between awake and asleep. She nodded slowly, whining into the gag.

Heather was scared and worried that something would happen to her from the moment he found her. But, she wasn't fully awake and that kept her mind a little damped down. She wasn't in panic mode. She was always in panic mode when she was awake. Heather normally needed medication to sleep, but she'd been exhausting herself as she cried or tried to run off. She was also too nervous to tell Eddie what she needed. It would be impossible for him to get for her, so she didn't want to humiliate herself by asking.

Heather just managed the panic and, when it got too bad, she tried to run off. She was a person who constantly felt panic, but she was doing her best to handle those emotions alone until she finally just started crying in his lap.

It wasn’t possible for Eddie to know the things Heather refrained from telling him during the daytime hours, of course, and so their thoughts were unavoidably disparate when it came to notions of helping her manage some sort of stress relief. Even Eddie would have to admit that he was fairly basic in considering solutions regarding the management of emotional and psychological health… though that was surely owed to his own circumstances growing up. Not that it was anything he felt like thinking about in a moment like this. No, in his ascent up out of the abyss of sleep, he had become aware of how his body was moving, what his uands were up to. It had started off as a wickedly erotic dream, which had probably been stoked by the fact that there was a naked woman directly beneath him… and so in the dream he had simply gone with the flow. But when shaking out the cobwebs of sleep and realizing that he was groping Heather in the realm of reality, there had been two options at hand. One, to apologize and retreat to the chair – two, to lean into it and give her a choice. It wasn’t that he’d intended to molest her helpless body. It had… simply turned out that way. And it was true that he wanted to give her something to enjoy, something to look forward to, something to break the misery of the situation. Her slow, emphatic nodding was the clearest signal she could possibly send him. The hand cupping her breast gently kneaded her flesh and alternated between massaging and gently twisting her nipple. He lifted his other to his mouth and drew his first two fingers along his tongue to wet them properly, then sent them back down between her legs to more earnestly seek out her folds. He could feel her twitching as he parted her and caressed the petal softness there. Such an event should be a gentle greeting… and it was with that in mind that he sought out the pearl of nerves just a little higher, just a little deeper… There. There she was. Shy, helpless, trembling, anxious – but she was there. And his touch was the sweetest massage of reassurance across that sensitive space… letting her know that he had no intention of abusing her, but would take care of her the best way he knew how.

-skip-

Send “I thought I could trust you.” for my muse’s reaction

Heather was a runner, especially when she got anxious (which was often). She had attempted another escape, which left her in a position she knew well now. Heather was still clothed, blindfolded and gagged in the motel closet with her wrists bound to the rod above her head and her ankles bound under her ass as she knelt.

When he opened the door, she whined into the gag at his tone and the smell of dinner. Heather shivered as the gag left her mouth, trying to compose herself. “I-I… I don’t know why ya keep trustin’ me an’ givin’ me chances… I’m a fuck-up. I ain’t even anybody important.” Heather was a mess and, if she wasn’t so well held in place, she would have tried to run off again. “Just let me go… Let ‘em kill me. I ain’t nothin’ special.” Her accent was kicking into overdrive. She normally avoided using 'ain’t’ because it didn’t sound polished and proper, but she was upset and scared. Heather was stressed and she didn’t understand why he kept protecting her when she kept trying dumb shit.

Eddie sighed reproachfully as he reached behind her head and unbuckled the blindfold around her eyes, allowing her to see the mixture of sympathy and exasperation on his face. In taking a moment to consider what would happen if their positions were switched, he imagined that he might very well be the same way – looking for a way out, some means of escape, every waking moment he was left alone. Or, failing that, maybe even begging his captor to just put him out of his misery, or abandon him to his fate, just as Heather was doing now. He dipped his head in quiet acquiescence to her point. It wasn’t unreasonable. “A’ight, look. I get it, okay? These last couple’uh weeks with me, with Us, I’ll bet it hasn’t felt all that fancy to you. In fact, I’d be willin’ to wager it feels pretty hellish, an’ I can’t even really blame you for tryin’ to take off the way you do. Feel like that’s kinda on me, since I haven’t been all that great about tryin’ to see to your needs and help you feel less afraid, whether I’m with you or not.” Then he lifted his thumb and forefinger to her chin, clasping its point gently between the two digits so that he could make her look him in the eye. “Listen. I’m sorry. Think I got a little off-track, worryin’ more about tryin’ to protect you an’ keep you away from that thing imitating you, than actually doin’ anything about it. An’ maybe that’s what it’s gonna have to take, is Us goin’ to fight it, drive it off, so We can let you get back to the life you want.” Then he tilted his head at her. “But you gotta figure… we’ve talked about what that life looks like. An’ you never seem any kind of excited about it. Work is where you’re surrounded by the most people, an’ you say they never notice you. Then you go home, an’… what? Not much waitin’ for you there. I mean, really think about it. This, all this, what’s been goin’ on here – this sure seems to me like the most excitement that’s happened to you in the history of basically ever.” He released her chin, then leaned forward to unbind her wrists from the hanger rod. He held both her forearms firmly but gently, allowing them to lower by degrees to help restore blood flow gradually so that it would be less painful. He kept his eyes on her face as he lowered her hands into her lap. “Maybe a little too exciting.” A crack of a smile appeared on his face. “And maybe a little too boring when I’m not around. We really gotta change this up, huh?” He scooped her up in his arms, carrying her back over to the edge of the bed. Notably, he did not release her ankles or legs from the straps encircling them. “Tell you what, though. I hear you when you say you don’t think you’re anybody special. But everything about you says you don’t wanna be anybody special. Can’t help but wonder why that is. You’re important enough someone wanted to take your job, your face, your life. Kinda stands out, to me. An’ to be honest, I think the world could actually do with more people who’re like you. Who can feel happy in their life, not needin’ to be super ambitious, not needin’ to stand above everyone else, just content with where they’re at an’ what they got, except maybe a few things here an’ there.” He held out the foldover designated for her. “Check it out. Sometimes I actually do listen. No pasta, no junk food. Just a nice fresh salad for my favorite rabbit. An’ I didn’t know what dressing you like, so I got one each’uh the usual suspects – ranch, Caesar, Thousand Island, vinaigrette.” Then he dipped one hand into his pocket and withdrew a small plastic bag, in which there was a handful of multicolored gummy bears. Maybe these would help remedy at least one of the underlying causes of her attempts to flee. He opened the bag and took one out, holding it out to her. “Here. Start with this. Then go ahead an’ dig in.”

Heather was confused when he said that he understood and that he took some of the blame for her trying to run. She didn't understand why. He was trying to keep her from being found by the person who had originally taken her and, honestly, he didn't hurt her. Heather got spooked and anxious, but she was never completely afraid of him. She didn't worry he would hurt her. She just felt trapped and it made her feel too tight.

There were points that she felt like everything was too close and she felt trapped, which was likely part of why she kept her spaces so bare and why she wore loose clothing. Heather wanted to be invisible and she wanted to have too much room. She nodded along to what he was saying, keeping her eyes on him as her arms were moved into her lap. "I-I... It's not your fault... I just keep feelin' too overwhelmed. I get overwhelmed a lot..."

She nodded as he started talking about her not wanting to be important, allowing him to easily lift her up and carry her to the bed. "I don't wanna be important... It's too much pressure. I just wanna help. I just wanna make it easier for everyone else to be important. I just... I keep gettin' stressed. I keep feelin' too... It's just too much sometimes."

Heather wasn't great at explaining her anxiety because it put so much focus on her. She smiled a little as he explained that he got her a salad rather than junk food. "I don't want too much to change... It ain't so bad... I just... I get overwhelmed. I get overwhelmed a lot." She lightly tapped the vinaigrette, tilting her head in confusion as he offered her a gummy. Heather had never considered taking anything that wasn't carefully vetted by a proper doctor, avoiding even something as innocent as alcohol. She didn't know to expect anything other than a gummy bear and it was confusing after he pointedly didn't bring her junk food. But, she owed him so trust after trying to run. She carefully ate the gummy, relaxing into his arms. "I run off an' ya bring me candy..." As the minutes passed, Heather relaxed more of her weight against him as it started to kick in.

[wordtowords]

The Magnitude of the Small

magnitude - noun - great size or extent of something.

Recently, I met a journalist who is responsible for coming up with 250 words daily on a subject related to the media. He writes for an online magazine that caters to content-thirsty industry professionals looking to quench the sensation in the time it takes to empty a grande mocha cappuccino. Although it may sound easy, it isn't. To write concisely, densely on anything is difficult. What is even tougher is selecting just the right topic, researching it, writing the sentences, proofreading them, and then posting the finished paragraph before the average, weary industry professional saunters into his or her favorite Starbucks to order that grande mocha cappuccino. 

I have a similar problem. Despite only contributing to this blog bi-monthly, after 373 articles, it isn't uncommon for me to be at a loss for subject matter. Sometimes it takes me a few days–as opposed to hours–to experience the eureka-I've-got-it moment. Since I don't compose this blog for a living (I can't figure out how to monetize it), I am under no obligation to meet any deadlines. Still, I strive to please those of you who actually read what I write. (Thanks, by the way!)

For today's installment of Word to Words, I chose the concept "The Magnitude of the Small," which as you might have noticed is a contradiction. How can something insignificant be great? Easy. To understand my original (?) paradox, you simply have to take notice. I mean, really look around you. 

For instance, this evening while returning home from a day spent ferrying a friend to and from a medical center for a colonoscopy (yikes! I am really dating myself here), I decided to take the scenic route. Which, for some, could just be the long way, perhaps through an unfamiliar neighborhood, featuring houses festooned with holiday decorations. 'Tis the season. Yet for me, one of the lucky Americans to live near the Hollywood Riviera (South Bay, L.A.), the scenic route is breathtakingly gorgeous, so glorious in its beauty that I was reduced to driving 25 mph just to look at it when everyone, who wasn't concerned with the magnitude of the small, was accelerating to 45, saluting with a raised middle finger as he or she passed me. Yet each incensed driver missed the sunset. If he/she did catch it, it was in his/her eyes, causing his/her to squint uncomfortably or reposition his/her eyes just beneath the dropped sun visor just to see the road. The magnitude of the sun might have been a small annoyance to those who became jaded, who got "used to" the allure that disintegrated into commonplace somewhere in the repetitiveness of daily commutation. 

But don't you do it. Don't let the magnificent become banal. Make a concerted effort to keep it fresh by stopping to notice, to realize, to appreciate Nature's marvels no matter how minute they may be. If you do, you may feel a lot better about everything that isn't quite right these days. If you do, maybe you may arrive at your destination with hope: abstract, compact, yet so very vast. 

[guhamun]

CALCHARO HUMMED SOFTLY IN understanding, gently releasing Jiyan soon after so that he could stand back to his full height once more. Concussions were nasty things, the aftereffects of them tending to linger and rear itself when one least expected it. In truth, he was surprised that the general had been able to walk about without stumbling until now considering how severe his head injury had been. Then again, days had passed since then, so it was a good thing that incidents like this were not common. Such signified a steady recovery. ❝I could walk back…but since I know you won’t accept that as an answer, go right ahead.❞ Besides, he was starting to feel tired, that gnawing desire to close his eyes and fall asleep present at the back of his thoughts. Days of improper rest were beginning to catch up on him, his body deciding to force him to sleep as recompense for his avoidance of it.

      A few more words were exchanged between the two men before that familiar armored vehicle appeared to pick him up, and with it, their time together had come to an end. This had been a pleasant change in scenery after being bound to headquarters for days. Calcharo was not the kind of person who enjoyed being inside for long periods of time, but it wasn’t as if he could go off into the wilds and patrol like he normally could. Being able to get out and properly stretch his legs… He was appreciative of this little invite. Eyes closing, he allowed himself to doze to the constant movement of his ride. Days passed, the same routine filling Calcharo’s time as he awaited that call. However, he had prepared for it this time. He would always stand out to an extent, yet that didn’t mean he shouldn’t attempt to fit in. And so, rather than have his usual civilian prepared, he had ensured that an outfit was chosen that properly fit a Jinzhou native. When he finally did receive the coordinates for their venture from Jiyan along with a date, all was in order.

     Hair slipped into a loose ponytail down his back, he made sure to be as presentable as possible for taking his leave, and, once again, slipping into the armored vehicle that had been left for him. Everything was in order at the base with one of the more senior Ghost Hounds ensuring things ran smoothly while he was gone, and so he need not think about anything else aside from the food he would be eating. Taken to the drop off point, he was glad that the streets were not as busy as they were during the daytime. Stepping into this city always made him feel out of place simply because he had become unused to being around people in cities and the like. His gaze still took in his surroundings, cautious as they often were. Thankfully, it had not taken long to reach his destination, the walk shorter than he would have thought. ❝Jiyan,❞ he returned the general’s greeting, sharp gaze taking in his appearance quietly for a moment’s time. Even out of uniform, he swore Jiyan would forever stand out among the masses. It was hard not to stare. Tugging himself from his observations, he slipped into a seat beside the other, arms leaning on the counter.

     ❝Did you wait long?❞

'Cocky', the General thought listening to the other, yet there was no negative connotation to that passing thought. Instead, it only made his smile widen, his eyes gleam more, something (that he could only describe as excitement and anticipation) flutter in his stomach and reach his chest. "I'm looking forward to it." Getting to see this side of Calcharo was... Was it bad to have these senseless thoughts that made him feel special? It most likely was, and he was getting ahead of himself once more, but that didn't bother him much right then.

His quick reflexes prepared him for the fall, but it never came. Jiyan blinked a few times before turning his head to look at the mercenary. An apologetic smile adorned Jiyan's features when he met their gaze and thanked them quietly as he properly regained his balance. "I promise it's nothing to worry about. The effects can last up to a few weeks, but they're just that. That's why my activities will be limited to paperwork and other that don't require direct combat for the time being," he reassured the mercenary. Of course, if that slip, brief as it was, had occurred during a TD attack, it could've been fatal. Suddenly, the combat medic in him was shaking his head at the Jiyan from a few days ago, the one who wished to go back to the Norfall Barrens soon after waking up.

"I believe I have held you hostage for long enough. Should I make a call so you can be picked up?" Jiyan asked with a smile. But, even though it had been a question, the only thing Calcharo would be able to decide about was the time. If the mercenary thought they would be walking from Desorock Highland to the Ghost Hounds headquarters, they couldn't be more wrong. "I'll send you the exact location of the bar and possible times later," he promised. It was located on the rooftop of the second-tallest building of Jinzhou, impossible to miss. The days that followed passed by too slow and too fast at the same time, but, on the bright side, he wasn't troubled by being bound to a desk. He had something someone to look forward to, heartbeat quickening whenever he thought of the approaching date.

The evening of the agreed date, he was waiting at the small table he reserved. The sun would be setting soon, and he had to agree with his mother: The sight of the city from this spot was truly beautiful. Like he said he would, Jiyan dressed in civilian clothes, but more 'elegant' than last time they went out, hair loose and falling over a shoulder, the reverse deep V cut of his shirt showed his tacet mark, and his red eyeliner wasn't as sharp as usual. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do, considering the location and since he didn't wish to draw attention. Despite not wearing his uniform, Jiyan still drew attention, but he wasn't paying attention to any of that, as his attention was solely on... "Calcharo," he said with a warm smile and hopeful golden eyes that said more than what words ever could.

[tragcdysewn]

was that halle bailey? oh no no, that was just ahsoka tano, a canon character from star wars. they are twenty two years old, use she/her, and are aware that they are not actually from washington dc. too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.

how long has your character been here:

about five and a half years, she's about twenty seven at this point

what is your character’s job:

she's the director of the secret service, and often is on the president's personal detail, simply because she doesn't entirely trust a non force sensitive agent to be able to handle leia

where has your character been pulled from in their fandom:

she's completely up to date, up to the end of the rise of skywalker and palpatine's defeat

has any magic affected your character:

ahsoka's been unaware a few times, and has a much more human appearance than she did back home

and any other information you might find useful for us and the other members to know:

this was the first character i was truly genuinely obsessed with. i have loved ahsoka tano with all my heart and soul since i was nine years old and i will love her until i die

she was anakin skywalker's padawan during the clone wars, and while he didn't initially want her, they became incredibly close and that's her dad now, padme is mom sorry

she fought by anakin's side almost constantly, and was even given a squadron of her own to command. she grew up in the war, but anakin tended to try and turn things into games where he could, doing all he could possibly do to give her at least somewhat of a childhood amidst the horrors of war

during the war, she was stranded on mortis with anakin and obi wan, and died in the aftermath of the conflict. anakin resurrected her with the power of the daughter, the embodiment of the light side of the force, and she still holds that power within her to this day

she left the order before order 66 because she was framed for treason and expelled, and when she was offered her place back, she decided she couldn't do it and i love her for making the choice that was right for her even if it broke her heart to leave

she did help the order out for the siege of mandalore, taking down maul and nearly dying in order 66 before saying fuck it and joining the rebellion and becoming a whole spymaster!! all the fulcrum agents are under her command and she set up the mission that led to the rebels getting the death star plans!!!! i love her!!!!!

during the war, she also ended up finding a force sensitive child and taking her in, and that's her child now. ahsoka forcefully adopts family members i guess. she'd die for kirei no questions asked

she fought against vader and the emperor during the war, and won against both, though only due to a bit of luck. she did technically die against vader, but a time travel complication allowed her to escape at the last possible second, returning to the current timeline and managing to continue in yet another war

she's got very complicated feelings on anakin because she loves him!!! she loves him so much but she also knows he did terrible things! so it's a weird dichotomy of being so happy he's alive and being terrified he'll snap again

she's also got complex feelings on the jedi because she does know they did good, and were good people, but she also knows they fucked her up, and fucked anakin up, and that their policies weren't perfect by any means

in dc, she's met leia, anakin and padme's child, and has become incredibly close with her and her sister, winter, both women becoming like her little sisters. they have a set of matching tattoos, ahsoka's reads i of iiii, and winter and leia have ii and iii, with iiii saved for luke

ahsoka has also been training leia in the force, hoping that she can prevent leia from turning out like her father, because she sees so many similarities to anakin in her sister, and it both frightens her and makes her happy

after leia fell, she did everything she could to bring her back, even cutting herself off and lying about her memories to attempt to get leia off guard. once a spy, always a spy

she's also reunited with anakin here, and while she's thrilled, their relationship is a little bit strained at the moment, because during the corn maze event, ahsoka ended up under leia's control, and an unfortunate choice of words led to ahsoka murdering anakin against her will

at this point, she's like desperately trying to hold her family together, and feels like the only one who isn't ready to snap sometimes, despite being absolutely right on the edge just not in a dark side way

anyways she needs a drink twenty four seven, and keeps booze in her office to jensens forever annoyance but does she care about that any man's opinion? nope

[sunboki]

— KEEP IT BUSINESS. TEASER a Lee Minho fiction

Lee Minho x f. reader

TROPE. best friends to lovers, coworkers! au, first kiss..? au (hehe), domestic minho (what’s new) who is sooo soft for reader :(

WARNINGS. cursing, making-out?? annoying coworkers (lol)

WORD COUNT. around 5k-6k words

AUG'S NOTES. really really love minho so so much you don’t understand i’ve officially gone bonkers i- 😭😭 …if you want to be added to the taglist, feel free to send an ask/dm/comment!!!

SYNOPSIS. Life can be a mess, and with you and Minho as the only two singles in your office building, an impertinent Valentine’s day leaves no choice but to make a pact.

or alternatively :

If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.

Four years.

It’s been four years since you first met Lee Minho, working with him at the same company, becoming the best of friends. And yet, the same dread lay specially reserved for the same season.

The season of love, or, to most people, Valentine’s day.

.

.

.

Alarm set for 6:30AM. Work from 8:30AM to 4PM. Every day of the week, every year.

Initially, the experience was relatively enjoyable. It paid well, wasn’t too harsh on hours, and other coworkers minded their own business (at least in your case) without being a pain.

Then the loneliness set in.

It was subtle at first, a tiny pang in your heart when you returned home to a dark, cold apartment while others would be greeted by a pet, a loved one.

So when Lee Minho, a new member of the company assigned as your apprentice came along, you tend to think meeting him was, in a weird, spontaneous manner, meant to be.

And four years later, when he had grown from that apprentice-ship and became established as an employee, you still hold onto that “meant to be” philosophy.

Busied chatter fills the downstairs cafe, familiar faces alike brimming with conversation, breath coffee-stained.

Peering across the various assortment of tables, you spot him, two identical cups in each hand, wearing that bemused expression as usual.

At this point, Minho has memorized your order by heart, arriving early after his daily stop by the nearby animal shelter (whose manager knew by heart). Most morning’s you’d await a picture of the newest addition to the feline section, a photo he proudly shows off like his own trophy.

You’re genuinely surprised his residence isn’t a constantly growing cat-kingdom.

“Looking forward to it?”

Brows furrowing, you sidle to his right and dish the warm beverage into your grasp.

“Looking forward to wha— wait wait don’t say it. I want to pretend it doesn’t exist.” Hurriedly waving your hands, Minho cracks a grin.

The cursed word in question being: Valentine’s day.

You can’t say you hate it. It never did anything to you, nor did it leave you heartbroken. To put it simply, the office over the first few weeks of February was a close-resembling spinoff to Singles Inferno except, much spicier and way too inappropriate in broad daylight.

Meaning, for the past five years (four joined by Minho), merely mentioning said season of love urges impending dread and deep frowns.

“All I’m gonna say is I would not want to be a doctor over Valentines,” You wince, sipping the warm drink with a squeamish face.

Minho sighs vehemently, propping an elbow against the computer cart behind him.

“I bet you could witness more vibrators in that hospital than in an Adam and Eve,” He grumbles, watchful eyes surveying the daily crowd occupying tables and chairs in the building’s downstairs café.

Slamming a fist to your chest to correct your breathing, your eyes practically bulge from your skull, evidently caught of guard.

Leave it to Minho to make you suffocate before your shift even begins.

8am is prime time for socialization—otherwise before Mrs. Song decides to unleash her wrath on newbies. She has good intentions, sure, but let’s just say most anyone was petrified upon first meeting her.

Luckily, your department with Hyeongmi, Minho, and Felix was secluded on the far side of the building, leaving you out of the woman’s hair, free to work as you please.

Yet, Mrs. Song wasn’t the problem, not when it came down to the month of February.

Your phone’s alarm signaling to start moving momentarily wards off the thought, and either of you begin toward the elevator, flat expressions describing the sinking feeling better than words.

Back at it, again.

Because by your lunch break, you can’t fathom entering the cafeteria, not if it costs you your life.

Everywhere you look someone is making out, confessing their love, or, worst you’ve seen it all day, genuinely fucking in the bathrooms.

Perhaps you’d send Minho a text you’re making an escape by eating in the office, invite him up for some solace.

Except, it seems he had the same idea.

Scrambling through the door, you enter at the same time, heaving sighs of exasperation upon securing much needed privacy.

Making prolonged eye contact, your thoughts come spilling out.

“If I witness another make-out in the stairwell I’m ending it all.”

“Boxes of chocolates are officially ruined for me now.”

Four years and it never gets old. Same old painful memories, same old excitement for the day to come and go. And it’s not like you hate the holiday itself, you two just.. heavily dislike the immense bucketloads of PDA and office hookups that come along with it.

Not-so-gracefully flopping down onto your chairs, you practically shovel food down, gladly accepting the few rolls of gimbap Minho places onto your plate.

Customary sharing. You give him some of your food, he gives you some of his.

In those brief minutes of silence do you get the opportunity to fully comprehend your own thoughts, prior to Minho clearing his throat.

“Drinks at my place?”

Your grown loudly in agreement.

[jraylambauthor]

Prologue - A Newberg Anthology

I decided to chronicle the story of the people who lived in Newberg: the public lives lived and the private lies hidden. Newberg is just like every other amalgamation of people. It has gossip, scandal, and intrigue. I was a resident of Newberg for twenty years – a native son born to outsiders. I would grow up, have my morals shaped and broken, and learn valuable lessons of the duplicity of human existence. When I left, I swore I would never return. Never is a powerful word that often doesn’t mean what it says on the tin. Now, some five decades from my birth, I look at Newberg and think to myself I want to return there and live out my life.

The younger me screams about the hate, repression, racism, and other horrible things that were there. My mature self sees how people looked out for each other, cared for the sick and infirm, and never let someone get into serious trouble. Both selfs tell the truth but they also tell a lie.

The anthology will be told by many characters with different points of view and different world views. An events may not be recognizable if you simply compared two peoples’ recollections. Being that I was a resident, I will be telling some of the stories that I was involved with, got pulled into, or should have been.

Before we get any further, I present a brief history of Newberg.

Around 1830, the first settlers moved into the township that would become Oakton.  Oakton was a small community that was destined to solely be a footnote in the history of Newberg.

In 1849, a new railroad company was chartered and by 1854 was setting up a new railbed three miles south of Oakton.

In 1856, Newberg was incorporated and the railroad reached the town.

1858: the first newspaper was founded in Newberg.

1860 saw the formation of the community band, still playing concerts in the current year (2023) and a second newspaper.

By 1880, several industries were already establshed including a brick factory, a coal compnay, a foundry, and a monument company.

Telephones arrived in 1883 and the following year saw the vacating of Oakton.

Electric light (and power) arrived in 1889, a five and dime opened in 1890.

I could keep going but I just wanted to show that Newberg was acutally somewhat special. Electricity was still new as were telelphones but yet Newberg had them at almost the same time as a regional city 30 miles to the east.

A few more historical dates are needed here as they will factor into the story.

1895 - Newberg Public School destroyed by fire and 1896 - the new brick school building was opened.

1912 - The Newberg Hotel opened.

1953 - A new high school is opened and in 1976 a fine arts addition is added.

1975 - The current firehouse was built and the railroad station was torn down.

1993 - A new grade school building is dedicated, replacing the 97 year old school.

Now, with all that boring history out of the way… Oh wait, no, it’s not quite done but it will rear up and show itself many times through the stories of the people in the anthology.

As the author of the anthology, I declare I am not an unbiased author and recorder. Far from it. I will be retelling events that happened to me that still infuriate me and get me riled up to this very day. I will retell of events that still make me cry from my time in Newberg. I am human and have all the flaws and faults that go with it. What would a collection of stories written by a robotic journalist be like? Cut, dried, and boring.

The stories I’ll be telling here are all based on true events in Newberg. The names have been changed (including Newberg) to protect both the people in the stories and to protect myself.

Phew…I’m tired of all this history and caveats.

Let’s get down and dirty in the lives of Newberg. Welcome home.

[katyspersonal]

I think that the controversy comes from the fact that there IS the room for interpretation! I feel like this "room" will get nuked in the DLC (for the history records, this post is made before DLC aired). But yes, currently it has been the constant punching between "oh my GOD how are you not reading Mohg being metaphorically depicted to crawl out from shared love bed with Miquella and speaking of him romantically, that he KIDNAPPED, sexual abuse and incest are RIGHT here are ya'll media illiterate???" vs "Miquella LITERALLY has the powers to brainwash people into falling head over heels for him, how is this not realistic that he decided to use Mohg as free bodyguard so people would have less chances to hurt Malenia in seeking him?!"

It is always frustrating how whenever any media actually uses the 'show don't tell' principle instead of rubbing the clear answer in your face, English-speaking/Western-centered/whatever fandoms still manage to make it into a battle of reading the given clues the "correct" way. (don't see this behaviour in Eastern Asian or Slavic fandoms or alike) I think simply having waited for the DLC would have saved the fandom a lot of nerves, but we also spent at least a year not even knowing whether we WOULD get the DLC to begin with, so.. 🤔

I am personally biased for the SO implications interpretation, but I don't want to be the Bender pulling out a coin meme with this one! What does actually frustrate me though, is THE correlation between wanting to like/simp for the character and the 'purer' interpretation. Miquella simps in 90% of the cases can ONLY like him perfectly kind, and trust me they do tend to ignore the suicide bombers and Bewitching Branch, let alone anything that blooms from these interpretations! (I don't count Griffith simps that use Miquella as surrogate as simps, personally). Mohg simps in 90% of the cases can ONLY like him if he was actually manipulated victim, if not deliberately erase the canon events and implications! People with nuanced takes tend to not care too much, and people with negative takes straight up dislike the character. I just don't understand how comes that the franchise with many incredibly messed up situations failed to attract simps with actually weird or even "problematic" taste! And if someone asks "but WHY would anyone simp for iRrEdEmAbLe character :ccc".....

We are above 'you can only simp for types you actually want to date irl' discourse, as well as we are above proanti discourse! This is just all so... boring and visionless, in the end. You'd wish every character got sullied in their own sins and still be loved. This gives me flashbacks to the years long history of Maria simps having to ignore her flaws and girlfailures because they could not simp otherwise (granted, it thankfully is over now, but that won't return the psychological health of her critics getting hated on). No shade on Dark Souls trilogy fandom, and Bloodborne fandom is only bad on Tumblr because of discorserverfication and rotting into "cool kids" groups (full disrespect to Alfred blorbofication vs Alfred hating disparity), but Elden Ring fandom absolutely could and SHOULD become weirder. Why it attracted so many normies? Just because it has cute flowers and animals aesthetic and its story is a bit more direct? We are supposed to be insane!!! We are the Miyazaki followers!!!

And it always goes down to that problem where in any conflict or abuse in media, there MUST be 'good' and 'bad' side. If Mohg was genuinely evil that means Miquella has to be 100% pure, if Miquella has dark sides then that somehow makes the awful treatment of him by Mohg no longer "valid", because victim can only be perfect, and if you address the fact how Mohg lived then he is justified because abuser can only be evil without nuances.. You see what I mean.

Idk how much of an unpopular opinion that is but like if you feel the need to remove his nastier traits and his more horrible acts are you even a mohg fan

[citrusdarling7]

Our Baby

summary- how I imagine having tom’s child would go

warnings-implied sex, pregnancy,implied labor, tom being clueless about babies and children

🗡—————————————————————🗡

When we first learned that I was pregnant, Tom was incredibly confused. He knew that I would never cheat on him, yet he seemed to believe there was no way that he could have possibly created a baby.

“That is impossible. You’re not pregnant,” he had decided.

A few months later, my baby bump started showing, and Tom finally accepted that he would soon be a father. Of course, he would never think to abandon the child or I, not after growing up in a neglectful orphanage. But he still wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the pregnancy. Things such as morning sickness and strange food cravings confused him.

“You mean to tell me that you’re currently vomiting up the baby?” He asked while I was hunched over the toilet puking.

“That is absolutely foul,” he sighed while watching me eat pickles that I had coated with peanut butter.

When I reached the second trimester, I took Tom to the doctor’s with me for an ultrasound appointment. When the black and white image appeared on the screen, Tom got up out of his seat to study it. The doctor, who was a cheery middle-aged woman, told us that we were having a boy. Tom stared at the screen for a good ten minutes before deciding,

“It looks like an alien.”

“He’s not an alien. Don’t say things like that,” I hissed at him. The poor doctor then had to explain to Tom how ultrasounds work, and why the image looked so distorted.

A few mornings later at the breakfast table, Tom decided to share an idea with me.

“I want to name it Salazar.” My fork slipped out of my hand and clattered to the ground.

“I hope that you’re joking.”

“Why would I be joking? Seeing as it has my DNA, it is a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. That would be the perfect name,” he explained while pouring his coffee.

“Absolutely not. I will die before I allow my baby to have such a stupid name.”

Although I made it perfectly clear that that name was not an option, Tom still had other ideas. I came home one afternoon to find him painting some large and ugly snakes on the walls of the nursery. He had even charmed the paintings so that they could slither and hiss. I had to explain to him why such images would be disturbing for a baby. When I had Abraxas come over the next day to paint little ducks over the serpents, Tom sulked for hours.

Even though his nursery paintings had been covered up, Tom was starting to become more involved with the pregnancy. He accompanied me on a trip to a Muggle baby store, inspecting every single sweater or onesie that I tossed into my cart.

“Why would it need socks? I thought that infants can’t walk,” he questioned as I tried to show him an adorable set of baby socks with polka dots printed on them. His voice had been rather loud, and other shoppers were giving us strange looks.

“Yes, Tom. Babies don’t walk, but they can still get cold feet.”

He wandered around the baby store for hours, examining strollers and baby-mobiles. Whenever an employee came up and asked if we needed help, Tom flashed them a menacing look and reached to hold my hand. He had started to grow more protective over me.

About three weeks before I was due to give birth, we hosted a baby shower at the manor. Tom never liked having guests over, but seeing as I was the one who was pregnant, my wishes were prioritized over his.

“Oh wow! I can feel him kicking!” My friend Briley, (who Tom and I had gone to Hogwarts with) exclaimed as she moved her hand around my swollen belly. Tom’s eyes widened in fear as he quickly shoved Briley aside.

“What is it doing? Is it trying to hurt you? Why would it do that?” Briley started laughing at Tom’s absurdity, while I simply rolled my eyes.

“He’s not trying to hurt me, he’s just moving around a bit. Give me your hand and I’ll let you feel.” I gently took his hand and placed it onto my stomach. Up until that point in time, Tom had not wanted to interact with my baby bump in any way.

“Strange,” he finally decided.

When it came time to unwrap the presents, Tom took it upon himself to open each one first, to determine if it was safe or not. Briley had wrapped up a Gryffindor onesie, and when Tom saw it he tried to kick her out of the manor. (I had to intervene before things got violent.) Abraxas and his wife had gifted us a lovely magical stroller that would spit poison at any stranger who approached it. Tom really liked that stroller.

As my due date rapidly approached, Tom grew much more interested in the baby. At night, he would ask to place his hand against my stomach so he could feel it. He began speaking to my baby bump in Parseltongue, which made me frown in confusion. I decided against reprimanding him, happy that he was finally interested in forming a bond with our child.

I went into labor while I was out having lunch with Briley. She quickly rushed me to the hospital and called Tom right away. We had chosen a Muggle hospital, (St. Mungo's wasn’t the best environment for a newborn.) Tom sat in a chair a few feet away during the entire delivery process, which ended up taking less than an hour. (Thanks to a lovely potion I had taken a few weeks ago that ensured a painless and smooth delivery.) The doctor asked Tom if he would like to cut the umbilical cord, but then immediately took back his offer when he saw Tom pull a large knife from his jacket in anticipation.

When my baby boy was handed to me, I couldn’t have been more happy. He was absolutely perfect, albeit a little slimy.

“Would you like to hold him, Tom?” He looked at our baby in disgust, shaking his head.

“Not until someone cleans it.” I sighed, but allowed the nurses to come in and take him away for his shots and bath. My son was returned a few minutes later, wrapped in a grey blanket, and free of any gunk or slime.

“Let his father hold him,” I instructed the nurse. A curious Tom allowed the baby to be placed in his arms. He studied him for a few minutes, unsure of what to say. Finally, he let a proud smile spread across his face.

“Hello, little Salazar. Welcome to the world.”

I immediately took the baby back into my arms, before Tom got any bright ideas, such as singing a lullaby in Parseltongue.

[yingren]

“ the least you could do is acknowledge it. no need to imply that i ain’t serious about it. ” and with that, he drops the topic, already pushing it aside before it veers too close to an unwanted confession. some truths are harder to face, especially when it comes to the subject of romance, or the lack of it, in his life. he usually brushes it off, telling people he simply doesn’t have the time. between working to support himself and taking care of yunli, there aren’t many free hours in the week he’d want to devote to a relationship. dating apps seem absurd, and parties aren't his scene. so, he spends most of his time at home, catching up on much-needed sleep or tackling the ever-growing list of chores that seems to get longer by the day.

ren reaches out to take dan feng’s hand, following his lead to the car and tossing his bag into the backseat. the whole thing feels almost rehearsed, like a routine they’ve done countless times before. maybe ren has gotten too comfortable, assuming dan feng understands exactly how he feels and is deliberately ignoring his subtle attempts at flirting. if ren remembers right, dan feng’s house isn’t far—certainly not close to this neighborhood, but past drives over there haven’t taken more than twenty minutes. it’s curious though, how dan feng insists on coming to this diner when there are much better places near his home and workplace. of course, that makes ren wonder if there’s intention behind it. dan feng had said as much himself, hadn’t he? still, ren tries not to read too much into it—though he can’t help but feel a bit disappointed at the thought that it might not mean anything at all.

“ i still think you should at least text me when you’re feeling like that, you know ? ” yes, he decides to revisit the topic, even though his gaze is fixed out the window and his attention seems to be elsewhere. there’s a nagging need to address what’s been on his mind. dan feng has been there for him countless times, a loyal friend always willing to offer support, even if ren rarely gave anything in return—at least, nothing of real value in his own eyes. a part of him worries he’s becoming too dependent on dan feng, afraid he might be a burden even. his idle hands reach for the phone in his pocket as he sinks further into the seat, leaning back and settling in for the drive. “ you keep telling me to reach out if i ‘need anything’ like that doesn’t go both ways ? come on. this shit is supposed to be give and take, at least try a little bit harder to make me feel somewhat useful. ”

While he may not be stupid, one certainly could use the word ‘obtuse’ to describe Dan Feng. When it comes to people, at least. He’s blunt most of the times, uncaring if his answer is unpleasant. That’s also the reason for him to not become a psychotherapist, he wouldn’t find success in this path. Thus, when Ren says that he isn’t pretending when he flirts, having the audacity to scoff, Dan Feng’s eyebrows gather together. He feels… insulted, in some weird way. Like Ren didn’t curse him openly but is doing it in his mind. “You always use flirtatious commentaries to try deviate the conversation.” He doesn’t want to be made fun of for falling for Ren’s teasing (when he understands it), so, Dan Feng had never thought outside of his own version of Facts & Logics.

A part of himself is pleased to know that he can just take Ren home without any pitstops, but he can’t deny that a tiny one wonders why Ren has a bag ready to go. He was prodding before, bantering with the man, however he isn’t all that sure that Ren doesn’t sleep with anyone. Dan Feng shares much of his time with Ren, yet they don’t really know much about each other when comes to The Deep Stuff.

Waves of black hair flutter behind Ren, and Dan Feng is caught staring with a barely-there, yet painfully soft, smile of his own. The length of their hair is almost the same, but Dan Feng’s strands have a faint sheen of green where Ren’s is red. “I have no concerns about being alone.” It’s true: Dan Feng doesn’t mind living alone in a big house. He doesn’t mind it that the house is quiet and calm. “It’s not like I have a preference, either. But it is within human’s nature to eventually strike the odd feeling of loneliness.” The doctor shrugs, as if this is something in his DNA and he can’t really change it. Which is true. “Besides, most of the times this kind of feeling strikes half past midnight. You should be sleeping by then.”

More because of Dan Feng’s own work than anything else. His shifts in the hospital are uncertain, and sometimes he just jumps from one to the next without actually sleeping. “Since you are ready, let us get going.” As if he owns the place, Dan Feng walks towards the exit, stopping on the threshold of the kitchen to look at Ren. Then, he offers a hand, without really thinking about the meaning of the gesture. “Come, Ren.”