#save me imaginary hot man

[izel-scribbles]

detective noel because yeah. i was in nyc and couldn't not

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

What about accidentally sitting on obey me brothers face??

Accidentally Sitting On Their Face | Yandere Obey Me!

Lucifer 

“How in the Devildom did you end up like this?!”

“I don’t want to point fingers but it was-”

“Mammon? I’m going to kill him, just hold tight I’ll get up the steps to get you.”

“No! Agh I’m slipping!”

“(Y/n)!”

He just so happened to find you hanging on the railing of the mansion during their stay in the human world

But the human world has a tendency to make you slow

So it didn’t really occur to him to transform and fly up to you 

All he mustered at the time was catching you himself

He might have miscalculated as you sat firmly on his face

“Ahhh Luci! I’m so sorry!” 

Horrified you spring up 

letting him gain his bearings as he wiped imaginary dust off his pants

“I wished we could save such activities for the bedroom but if you insist.”

He’s usually so composed when you try to tempt him

But your boldness just gets the best of him

“Where are you going, we’re not done here.”

Mammon

“Go ahead (Y/n) just grab as much as you can! I have a whole bag!”

“Okay okay just don’t squeeze too hard!”

If it weren’t for his ultimate goal of getting the mineral deposit he would have been indulging in the intimacy of holding you up

Trying to push yourself up higher you wobbled with a loss of balance

Coming crashing down on the avatar of greed

“Oh, my–Mammon are you okay? Can you breath at all.”

“Mmmm~”

He can’t 

But why would he when he’s deeply focused on suffocating in your scent

He would have never had a chance otherwise

He whines when you lift up from him 

Turning his head when you question the attitude change

When he gets more confident he’ll ask you to do it on purpose

“Come on, lucky charm! It’s for luck in the casino! Don’t you want to give me luck!?”

Satan

It’s all his fault 

This man would sooner murder his brother with a ‘prank’ than clean his room

Even when you decide to actually come to hang out in his room 

It’s a given that you slip while he’s nose-deep in this latest book

Providing the perfect distraction for a demon otherwise too focused to even think about the cleanliness of his room

“Ahh ouch! But of course, I would slip because you don’t clean…Satan?”

“...”

“Why is it so hot down…Ah, Satan!? Are you okay?”

“...Yes, I just…give me a minute…”

He’s spacing out for the rest of the week replaying the moment over and over again

It’s appalling how unprepared for this he is

Practically high on ecstasy for a week

He needs to get himself together if not for your sanity than for his own

“Y-you want me to sit on your face?”

“Yes, this is the perfect form for exposure therapy. So that hopefully next time this should happen I’ll be better able to handle it.”

He never will

Leviathan

Similar scene 

It's dark he leaves a lot of things laying around

And when he’s forcing you to sit in his lap for hours at a time 

When you finally get up your plummeting right back down

Providing Levi with the plush softness of your butt

Now as long as he’s not on a checkpoint who are we kidding he’d be happy even still

“Mmmmmm!”

“Aaaaaaaa!!”

“OmigoshOmigoshOmigoshOmigosh you’re on top of me! I’m in you! Aaahhh this is just like that scene from the Rurichan!!! This is my moment!”

He’s oddly hyped

He takes it as a reward for some of the instant kill missions he’s completed in your name

Rationalizing that you're too wonderful, too mighty to tell him directly

So this is your little way of thanking him

So excuse his forceful behavior when you try to get up

“L-levi you can’t keep doing this! You’ve got to let me go!”

“Nope! I’m reaping the conquest of my grinding…ha ha..in life I mean.”

Asmodeus

“Whoa you almost got it (Y/n)~! Just keep looking~!”

“Is it really far back, I can’t seem to–eh?! Asmo you’re holding the latter right?”

“Huh-uh!”

Totally orchestrates the scenario

He’s been thinking about it for a while 

And cuddling just isn’t doing it for him anymore

Rather he’s looking for some new material to jerk himself off to

He’s very much still into cuddling, he’s just peeved he got caught

“Ooops~!”

“Ah!”

Landing perfectly on his face, Asmo is so pleased he actually did the math for this

He squishes his face into your crevices

Unrefutably sniffing as he holds your shocked self in place

Maybe even a lick or two or twenty

“Ah~Asmodeus! S-stop it! Let me up!”

“Ahh~! I wish I could see your face~but I’m a little busy!”

Beelzebub

“What are you going up there?”

“Dang it Beel, this is my stash! I–whoa!”

“(Y/n)!” He catches you 

But with his face

True to form he doesn’t necessarily pick up on the implication

But he knows one thing 

“Mmmhmhmh!”

“Beel! Don’t try to talk to me just let me-”

“But it smells good here…can I–”

“No Beel! Stop! Let go of my–Ah! Don’t use your teeth!”

He acts like a starving animal trying to get a taste

Either give him a taste or throw him a bone

“I just really like that feeling…I want to feel it again.”

Belphegor

It's known that Belphie sleeps anywhere

Not only that 

He walks in his sleep 

So it isn’t bizarre that he ends up sleeping where you might be sitting

“Oh my gosh, Belphie-? What?”

“Zzzzz stay–zzz”

He’s not letting go 

No matter how hard you pull or try to unhook his fingers 

It makes you wonder if he’s even sleeping at this point

“Oh? (Y/n) what are doing…”

“I accidentally…sat here but then you wouldn’t let me go…but now that your awake can you let me–”

“Nope.”

“What?!”

“I think I’ll turn you around but I’m not letting you go.”

[hanibalistic]

WHO YOU ARE, WHO I AM | LEE MINHO.

genre | fluff, angst, (semi) slow burn / arranged marriage au / strangers to lovers / 4th wall break

synopsis | when you wake up to a good-looking man who claims to be your husband, there isn’t much to do aside from assuming you got stuck in a drama.

word count | 15.1k+

warning | mentions of cheating, blood / occasions of toxic marriage / one instance of violence / not edited since the first time i posted this story​

note | the ending is essentially the same. i changed very little of the original story, only nearing the end. / forcing me to put fic into parts is heinous.

parts | one, two, three

You have had a fair share of envious moments before.

Whenever you see adorable and loving couples wandering across the streets, sipping a hot drink while letting their shared scarf do the deed of warming them up on a cold winter night, you want to gouge your eyes out to save yourself from the public display of chaste affection. But, at the same time, you cannot stop staring. If you stare long enough, you might just be able to replace the couple with you and your perfect, imaginary boyfriend. 

You have prayed for a significant other at one time or another. Who hasn’t? Discreetly whispering towards the birthday candles, the new year’s fireworks, an abrupt desperation appearing in the middle of the night when you were jolted awake. Yet, for years, the odds were not in your favor until at this exact moment when you opened your eyes after long hours of sleep you could not remember yourself ever heading to.

The sunlight was seeping through the white mesh curtains that mirrored the fabric of an expensive wedding gown, the kind that makes you gasp in awe at the bride when she wears it down the aisle. It did nothing to help with the glaring morning gaze but you could understand why people would buy it as a decoration. Those useless and overpriced curtains, no matter what, do give the room a whimsical atmosphere. If only you ever got one.

The second you laid eyes on those mesh curtains, your eyes snapped open and the grogginess you felt from just waking up vanished immediately. Those were not yours. No, definitely not. You cared too much about sleep to allow yourself an aggressive wake by the sun. Besides, you would not be caught dead spending hundreds of dollars buying a home decoration that serves no purpose other than looking pretty.

You clenched the bedsheet and gasped in both shock and awe. Talk about the softest bed sheets you have ever felt! The blanket covering your, thankfully, fully-clothed body felt like silk yet the material was thick enough to make you feel warm like you were taking a steamy hot shower and make you sleep like you were in a coma. But the same thing applied: these bedsheets never belonged to you and possibly never will.

“Oh god,” you breathed out in a whisper as your eyes rolled around the unfamiliar room.

You were stalling at this point. The heavy presence laying next to you was far too obvious for you to ignore but you were also too afraid to look. Who could it be? You hadn’t the faintest idea. You couldn’t even recall exactly what happened last night! Did you make any plans? That would be extremely unlikely. You’ve got no friends who would invite you anywhere and you’ve got no motivation to go anywhere but slack around in your apartment!

Nothing else could explain the current situation you’ve gotten yourself in, though. Nothing but you getting very drunk and possibly handing all that was sacred about you to a complete stranger.

Slowly turning your head to the side, you let your squinted eyes fall open slowly for the big reveal. The man sleeping next to you had his body turned towards your side. His lashes fluttered even when he was unmoving and his brown locks fell just above his closed eyes in the most boyish, attractive way. The bridge of his nose arched perfectly to welcome to button tip. His lips have a natural pout to them and they somehow appeared to be glittery under the sunlight.

Oh yeah, you must be drunk last night. You were sure this man was too because no way in hell would he ever want to have anything to do with you.

You stared at the man for a brief moment. Your internal thoughts went through all five stages of confusion, with all first four of them being pure confusion and the last stage being acceptance. You felt like you opened your long hidden psychic third eye after the stage of acceptance and you have never felt smarter than before. Acceptance should have been your first instinct. What else should you have done when you wake up to find yourself sleeping next to one of, if not the most, handsome man you’ve seen on Earth?

After giving your mind a nod of approval for creating such a beautiful man, you turned on your back and closed your eyes. You went back to sleep because, obviously, this was just a lucid dream.

I would let you think you were smart for a moment, [Name], but I do believe it is about time we progress with the story and learn about who the man of your dreams was, so–I’m not sorry but up we go!

You jolted awake as if you just had a nightmare, which you did not. Your body just wanted to keep you awake, it seemed. It was as if it knew you were not in the right place, or you were in a place you have never been to before, and it wanted you to stand up and discover an escape route. Sighing in defeat, your eyes blinked at the unfamiliar room you had gotten a glimpse of before you concluded that you were in a dream.

Turning your head to the side, your eyes welcomed the sight of the man you had previously admired. The only difference this time was that he was very much awake and was blatantly staring at you with a look of utter distaste that felt more common than ever. He was not the first person to give you that unamused frown and wickedly condescending gaze but it really did add more impact to it when it came from someone as good-looking as him.

“What the fuck?” you muttered out with a hasty, croaked voice.

Minho tilted his head to the side at your obnoxious reaction, then he spoke, “Why are you on my bed?”

You furrowed your brows at him, both at how nice his voice was early in the morning and in confusion to the fact that he asked you the million-dollar question. Breathing out a short laugh, you looked away from him. “I don’t know, man. I was hoping you could tell me that.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything aside from the rules we established the first day of our marriage,” he wasted no time to say, his tone getting duller and duller as if he was really getting mad over you being on his king-sized bed.

“Oh, you’re crazy.” You rolled your eyes as you reached your hand up to ruffle your hair. 

Upon the subject at hand, it was slowly coming to light the faint weight that has been resting on your fourth finger and was completely neglected by your confused state of mind. Your ruffling slowly came to a stop and, stalling time once again, you turned over to look at the stranger who was still staring at you with distaste. Something about his lack of expression, and the weight on your hand, told you he was being honest.

“Are we married?” you asked. “The thing I am feeling on my finger is not a ring, is it?”

Minho’s gaze shifted for a moment. You seemed genuinely confused, out of your usual element if he could say so himself. Truth be told, he never really paid that much attention to you. He did once in a blue moon, never enough for your presence to stick in his head. But he could definitely tell when you weren’t being yourself, when you didn’t feel like you.

“Don’t joke around with me, [Name],” he said when he regained his usual demeanor. The theory he thought about was discarded with ease. There was absolutely no way something so fiction-like could ever happen to him. The arranged marriage aside, of course.

“You know my name?” you questioned slowly, finally sitting up now that this situation was becoming creepier. Your legs inched toward the edge of the bed to leave the soft blanket and were ready to bolt out of the room for good. “I don’t even know yours.”

“Yes, you do,” Minho said, sitting up as well. “Stop messing around. Just admit that you broke the rules and slept on my bed. This amnesia act is a waste of my time.”

You squinted your eyes at him, jaw hung open in utter disbelief. His attitude fueled nothing more than the distaste for him that was currently brewing inside you.  “Dude, I don’t fucking know who you are? Am I supposed to just guess your name? Something generic like Lee Minho?” 

He showed you a deadpan expression immediately after your voice fell. Judging by the way his shoulders dropped in annoyance, you knew for a fact that you had guessed his name correctly. That was a generic name as you mentioned. You cursed under your breath then, recognizing how your luck was completely working against your favor. 

“I–I gotta go. I have to leave!”

You let the anxiety in your body do the job as you stumbled backward and out of the bedroom. You were immediately greeted with a long and bright hallway that looked way too familiar for you to not be able to navigate around it. 

You have never been here before, but you just knew. It looked like a house straight out of a drama. With the opened curtains, the velvet carpet, the random Chinese vases located in the awkward middle, and the giant wooden patterned doors—oh god, were you on secret camera right now? Did you sign some ten-page long contract you never took the time to read?

Moving to a random direction of the hallway, you grabbed the handle of the next door you could find and opened it to head inside. The lights automatically turned on when it noticed a presence, and you found yourself in what appeared to be a walk-in closet.

It was a black and white. A very minimalistic color scheme. The orange lights made you wince because it didn’t match the atmosphere. Clothing racks lined up against the wall and eventually met each other at the end, where a tall mirror stood waiting to be used. There was a door that you guessed might lead to a bathroom and a few shelves of expensive perfume and shoes. Sitting oddly in the middle was a small round desk and a cushioned chair.

You grimaced at how obnoxious and luxurious the closet was. It was everything you could have dreamed of having. Maybe even a little beyond that. There was such a thing as too big of a closet, and the idea of actually spending that much money made your skin all itchy and irritated.

Oh, [Name]–what are you doing? You have got no time to give criticism to a rich person’s closet. You have got to figure out what the fresh hell was happening!

“This makes no sense.” You clicked your feet against the carpet floor before you started to pace around.

Marriage? Minho knowing your name yet you needed to guess his? This foreign rich land you stumbled upon? There were only four solutions you could think of after having rethink every single detail.

Exhibit A: This is still a dream.

You slapped yourself after much preparation. The pain stung you like your bare hand to a burning stove. This is not a dream, it has never been. 

It was funny to watch you slap yourself though, I have to say. 

Exhibit B: This is a television prank.

Your drama-loving, variety-show-watching freak would definitely be able to tell. Each pranking show has its distinct element to the way they execute their plan—from the setting to their actors to their fake scenarios. This was far too obvious and far too risky for any pranking show you have watched. You could cross the option off the chalkboard!

Exhibit C: Minho is madly in love with you and has kidnapped you to be his spouse!

Interesting and unbelievable. Why would someone like him need to kidnap you to keep you with him? With that face and this kind of money? You would have caved within seconds judging by how shallow your heart could be sometimes. Besides, why would someone like you intrigue him? No way. This option is off the chalkboard too.

Well, what remained was your last resort, I suppose. May I proudly present you—Exhibit D!

The door to the closet swung open, abruptly disrupting the deep-voiced narrator in your head and pulling you back into the real world… as real as it could get, at least. Snapping your head to the side, you were greeted with an unamused Minho by the doorway and your frown deepened at his unwelcoming presence.

“Why are you in my closet?” he asked, approaching you slowly.

You blinked at him and looked around. The clothes on the racks finally made themselves clearer to you, and for the first time you could see that those were men clothes. Or, at least, pieces you would never wear outside. This wasn’t your closet, but you’ve had enough to him to admit your wrongs, so yous scoffed instead.

“Is everything yours?” 

Minho raised a brow. “Besides you, yeah. I would say so.”

You closed your eyes to concentrate on holding down a fiery breath threatening to escape. Whether it was Minho or yourself it planned to head toward, exploding in the middle of a stranger’s house in an unfamiliar situation was the last thing that could help you. As much as you hated how Minho seemed to make perfect sense every time, you remained (as) calm (as you could be). 

“Whatever.” Classic comeback.  

“Whatever? No, this isn’t whatever,” Minho said, grabbing a fistful of a discarded topic and throwing it at your face. “Do we need to have another talk about boundaries?”

You furrowed your brows, but you weren’t confused this time. You were annoyed and in disbelief. His condescending tone scratched the part of your brain you learned to turn off during work hours, but since he wasn’t in charge of your finances, unlike your boss, you’ve had it up to the tip of your head with him. On second thought, you were better than this asshole! You would never agree to marry someone with this kind of shitty attitude! Exhibit C is back in the race!

“Did you kidnap me?” you asked with no reluctance.

Minho tilted his head at you, bewildered but not enough to lose his stoic expression. “Kidnap you? Why would I do that? You are the one head over heels for me ever since we got married.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you snorted loudly as you turned away from him. Then you pointed a finger at him, wanting to spat something with menace but you were stopped immediately by the diamond ring on your fourth finger.

Oh, that—that is heavy. That looked heavy and it felt heavy. How did you not feel it? You wanted to take it off and keep it in a glass box on display the second you laid your eyes on it.

“Did you force this on me?” you asked, pointing at the ring and discreetly feeling the rough diamond on your skin. Your eyes shifted slightly to glance at it and they widened on instinct. You couldn’t even begin to guess how expensive that piece of rock is and having it weighing down on your fourth finger felt like too much responsibility. “You freak! How much did you pay for this?”

Minho shook his head, continuously bewildered at the sudden questions fired towards him. “About five hundred–“

You held up your palm to shut him up. That number was all you needed to know. Judging from the way he was still trying to speak, the ring was definitely not just a mere five hundred dollars. And be it the word ‘thousand’ or ‘million,’ whichever comes out of his mouth would still make you fake barf and your heart pour blood. The only thing you could feel remotely glad about was the fact that he bought the ring.

“Also, for your information, I did not force the ring on you. We both agreed to get married. Besides, I didn’t need to force you to do anything,“ he replied. "Our parents did.”

"Our parents? What do you know about my parents–my mom and dad will never force me to marry anybody even though that is all they ever urge me to do these days!”

“[Name].”

For once, Minho’s deep and quiet voice was laced with something other than spite. His eyes were solemnly melancholic. They dropped like shadows as he gazed at you carefully. Without moving an inch, he spoke, “[Name], your parents have been dead for a year.”

Dead parents. Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is a trope you could work with. At least it has the capability of bringing your theory somewhere. Maybe on a path to insanity but still a route nonetheless.

Let me humbly do a recap of everything that went down. 

A big house. A rich man, a rich and handsome man, a rich and handsome man who hates you, a rich and handsome man who hates you because you two were stuck in an arranged marriage. Dead parents.

"Oh my god,” you gasped under your breath as the reality dawned upon your once clueless mind. Everything was so clear after you figured out all the key elements, it almost felt like you could calculate the physics of the parallel universe and the meaning of existence!

You are stuck in a drama!

After some wild stumbling about in Minho’s big mansion, all thanks to your pride preventing you from asking him the exact location of ‘your’ closet, you finally found the fashion wonderland you were looking for—your walk-in closet, that was somehow separated from Minho’s even though you two were supposedly holding hands in marriage. This degree of hated in an arranged marriage wasn’t uncommon, but you thought it hard to deal with when you’re stuck in the position.

Bursting through the door, the lights automatically turning on in here as well, you gave yourself no time to admire the inner structure of how the closet was built and decorated. Instead, you immediately went for the first mirror you could find, which was just hanging on the wall above a little table.

You heaved a short sigh when you recognized your own face and body in the mirror. That fact alone reinforced the drama theory you’ve got spinning in your head. If you were to not look like yourself, there would be a possibility that your soul got switched with someone else’s and you were actually still stuck in real life. However, the person you were looking at in the mirror was you in the flesh, therefore this was not a soul-switching experience but a teleportation experience.

You got stuck in a drama. Yeah, that was it. Either that, or you got transported to yourself in an alternative universe. To you, they meant the same thing. Anything that wasn’t your reality would be fake. That was your answer. But how did you get transported here? Flipping through the television department of your memory, not once could you remember yourself ever going through anything that happened to protagonists who were teleported somewhere else.

You weren’t almost hit by a car, you didn’t almost freeze to death, you didn’t almost drown in the ocean—oh there, wait a minute. There was a pattern there. The key to the sequence is not a near-death experience. The key to all of these is only the 'near’ of the experience, not necessarily the 'death’ part of it!

“But that makes no sense?” you mumbled to yourself as you tried your best to remember what you were doing before you woke up next to Minho, but it was to no avail. All you could remember was falling asleep on a phone call with your friend. “Everyone almost does something all the time. How do you determine which one is significant?”

Marching over to pick up a random pair of shoes from the shelf, you raised it high in mid-air and let go of it. Before it could hit the ground, you immediately caught the shoes again, then you looked around the place with the most paranoid eyes. “Oh, oops! I almost dropped these shoes!”

Nothing happened. The only thing that welcomed you were the static in the air and the realization of your stupidity.

Alright. Perhaps the ‘death’ part of it was, in fact, necessary after all.

Putting the shoes back, you puffed out some air to replace a frown that would inevitably help you gain more wrinkles than needed. Walking back to the table, you stared at yourself in the mirror and gave yourself a few pinches here and there. Both to make sure you were not dreaming and to give yourself some encouragement that things would turn out fine somehow.

One thing you did come to realize after the momentary idiotic trance you got stuck in was that while you were stuck in a drama (at least a universe that seemed to act on its principles), you were also taking the place of someone else’s life. Your position belonged to a character once. You just came in and took their place. You still looked like you, for some reason, but this position was not yours to freely maneuver.

Besides, whoever ‘you’ used to be must have been transported to your body in your world. Unfortunately, judging from the kind of life they’ve led thus far, you should pray against that case because your life wasn’t the kind of suffering they could handle. You didn’t think so. Working a full time job, not being married, and being dirt poor? Your life would suck for them. You may have to be ready to find a new job when you figure out how to go home. 

Nonetheless, you’ve got to be careful. You have no idea when you would magically disappear from this place, and you would hate to have someone pick up your pieces.

“Just live for now and don’t mess up,” you told yourself lazily, grimacing at the fact that you might have to comply with what Minho says from now on because, according to him, you were in love with him.

Now that the troubles were all set aside. It was finally time for you to bask in the big, extravagant closet of your dreams. You turned around and beamed at the clothes that lined up the walls and at the shoes all carefully placed in a row. This! This was much better than Minho’s closet, you knew that for certain!

Making your way to the other side of the room, you skipped with your bare feet happily. All that excitement only to have you trip on your own feet and fall forward. Your eyes widened in shock, your mouth hanging open to let out a small scream.

Your head banged against the wooden column that held up the clothing rack, and immediately you blacked out.

Opening your eyes was quite the scare for you.

Oh, how horrible it would be if you found yourself waking up next to a handsome man who happened to be your husband and also does not love you whatsoever but is extremely rich and is putting a roof over your head? You sniffed in distaste. You weren’t one for gold diggers. Money was never a big problem for you. You were poor, but you’ve got enough to get by. Loneliness and the lack of intimacy were the main issues! Not that you would outrightly acknowledge it, though.

The room you woke up in was different than the previous one. It was just as big as Minho’s bedroom but it had a more natural tone than Minho’s royal-like room. Holding your palm to your forehead, you winced in shock at the bumpy surface on your skin. You did remember tripping and falling head-on against the clothing rack but you did not think it would create that much damage. All you thought would happen was a small red spot and eternal suffering of you acknowledging how stupidly clumsy you were.

Aside from that, at least you gained a little information about yourself: you trip easy, you faint easy, and you scar easy. It was unlike your regular body; your threshold for pain and fatigue was high due to constant working, and you definitely did not use to trip on solid ground. Being teleported here has turned your body into a typical romantic drama protagonist. 

Your feet touched the cold tiles. Surprisingly, there were no fluffy slippers for your them to slip into. You got out of your bed and immediately went out to the hall in hopes to search for someone. There has got to be a soul working in this mansion. You could not have possibly smeared vaseline on your forehead and tucked yourself back into bed in a state of unconsciousness.

The atmosphere was eerie as you made your way down the hall. The sound of your bare feet tapping against the carpet could be heard in this quiet house and for once, you thought perhaps having such a giant home was not the best idea in the world. It has got you missing your small and cozy apartment where most things were within reach and sight. If only it didn’t take half of your pay check every month. 

“Oh, I see you’ve woken up!”

You flinched at the sudden voice, albeit it being very gentle and harmless. Turning around, you found a middle-aged lady dressed in casual clothes holding a basket of crumpled up laundry. Not wanting to act too suspicious and out of character, you gave her a small smile as you accessed her figure as quickly as you could.

She was not wearing one of those maid costumes, which was not surprising. You wouldn’t say you want to see an old lady in one either despite hoping to see an actual maid in a rich household just to experience that drama dream you’ve got stored in your head. But looking at the laundry basket she was holding, you were pretty sure she was only here to do the chores and she would leave once the day gets darker.

“Um… yeah, I have,” you replied to her as your hand reached out to softly touch the nasty bump on your forehead. You grimaced a little at the texture before you looked back at the lady, “Uh, is–is dinner ready?”

She nodded her head with a faint laugh, happy to know you haven’t lost your perception of time yet. Nudging her head to the end of the hallway, she said, “Mr.Lee went and bought home some takeout from your favorite restaurant after he got off work. They are in the kitchen if you are feeling hungry.”

You arched your brows pleasantly. Alright, that was very nice of him. Considering you weren’t holding any grudges against him yet, he did that our of sheer kindness, or responsibility—it didn’t matter. Free food is free food. You would thank him if you see him later but honestly, that would hugely depend on your mood and how he acts when you do see each other again, which you knew you would. 

“Okay. Thank you very much.” You nodded at her with gratitude, mirroring her hushed voice. “Ah, and thanks for fixing my head and tucking me to bed.”

“Of course, it is what I’m supposed to do.” She smiled. Your surprised look—from mistaking that she was the person who brought you back to bed—did not go unnoticed. Immediately, she added,“But Mr.Lee was the one who brought you back to your bed. That was not me.”

You blinked at her in bewilderment. The inside of your chest fluttered just a little at the idea of someone hoisting you up bridal-style and putting you back to bed. It didn’t cross your mind once that he might have laid you on his back instead. You were dramatizing the experience. You had to because Minho did not seem like the type to fit under the romantic category. His face? Definitely. His personality? No. 

Nonetheless, you were flustered at the idea of it. It was the first time someone has held you up like that since your father years and years ago.

“O–oh, that is–“ you cleared your throat and your mind, then you looked up at the lady with a smile–“um, is he home? I want to go thank him.”

“He is,” she nodded, “I believe he is just in his office room.”

Great. Location unlocked! All that remained would be how to get there.

“Thank you. I will just get going now.” You bowed slightly before you quickly spun on your heels and left the hallway.

After some more trials of opening doors that lead you to empty bathrooms and empty guest bedrooms, you were starting to hate this house more and more. At this point, you wouldn’t get a big home even if you’ve got all the money in the world. The hatred and annoyance have rooted too deep in your brain, you have automatically crossed your castle dreams off the bucket list.

Your feet tapped quickly against the carpet so your legs could take you down the hall and to the next doors quickly. Letting out a frustrated groan, you grabbed the door handle as soon as a new door was in reach and you twisted it open to reveal a rather embarrassing sight of Minho and a girl being all over him near the edge of his desk.

You couldn’t decipher whether this position was reciprocal. It was amazing that your brain could even function logically enough to think that perhaps Minho didn’t want to be stuck in this position considering how awkward the view was. You forgot for a moment you were looking at this from a spouse’s perspective, and panic surfaced when you dodged the girl’s annoyed eyes and instead looked straight into Minho’s shocked ones.

Your jaw dropped open slowly at the sight in front of you as if you were just looking at it for the first time. You were finally processing it, though. Then, for some stupid reason, you reached your hands up to your face and quickly smacked the heel of your palm to your eyes. Your back arched at the impact and you started wailing in (fake, but debatably genuine) pain. You disliked couples, also you thought it was funny to act out of the role you were destined to be: a wailing woman. 

The real dilemma here was if you wanted to confront them or act as if you haven’t seen anything. 

Unfortunately, confronting them may lose your status as Minho’s spouse, thus the roof over your head and the trust funds. It would be immensely entertaining to confront them, but you needed to keep everything else in mind. For now, pretending you didn’t see anything was the best response.

Minho and the girl were startled out their minds at your peculiar response. Minho’s instincts told him to stand up straight and approach you to check and see if the fall this morning was more serious than he assumed it to be. But before he could listen to his heart, your incoherent wailing started to turn into audible words.

“Oh! My eyes! I can’t feel my eyes! I can’t see!” You let your hands go free around the air and kept your eyes shut tightly to act blind. Your spun your torso about, almost dancing to a rhythm of a trot song, and your arms flailed closely beside your figure to avoid hitting the door frame. “I have not seen a thing! I’ve gone blind!” 

His lips quirked up in amusement, but the amusement was quickly diminished when the girl who just recently tried to lure him into a deceptive make-out session spoke.

“What the hell is your problem?” she asked out loud, possibly glaring at you but you could not see (because your eyes were closed, not because you’ve actually gone blind. You’ve got me fooled!), nor do you care.

However, you did almost let a gasp past your lips because good lord, the audacity of this woman! Did she see no problem in seducing a married man? An unhappily married man but a married, ring on the finger, contract signed, vowed spoken man nonetheless! Does ‘through sickness and health’ mean nothing to people anymore?

As much as you didn’t care for Minho, the concept of adultery is and will always be preposterous! You were thinking in big words just so you could emphasis how much you hate the act of cheating!

“It seems like somebody is being unfaithful and I am trying to make sure I don’t make a memory of it,” you replied calmly with your eyes still shut and your body turned at the wrong person. It was hard to take you seriously. When there was only silence, you muttered to yourself, “God, I hope amnesia happens when I leave this world. This is not a good sight to remember for them.”

Minho furrowed his eyebrows at you after your answer. Surely, you wouldn’t accuse him of cheating? You barged in at the wrong time. You didn’t even try to understand the situation from his perspective. His arms were crossed in front of his chest to create a more dominant stance before he commanded, “[Name], open your eyes.”

“Did you not hear what I said–ah, you probably didn’t because I muttered.” You sniffed the tense air before you shook your head. “No. I am trying not to make a memory of this.”

“[Name], I said open your eyes,” Minho repeated louder once again. He marched over to you and, impulsively, gripped a stronghold of your chin to tilt your head up. “I said look at me!”

You snapped your eyes open at the forceful tug, a strangled noise bursting from your throat at his violent action. You weren’t scared, no, not at all. You were angry, annoyed, and actively seeking retaliation you would’t have engaged in back where you came from. 

Your hand reached out to grip his wrist and you squeezed tightly until Minho showed a sign of discomfort on his face. A smile almost crept their way to your face; all those years carrying bags of groceries with your mom while walking home was worth it! But the matter at hand called for a more serious demeanour. This experience concerned not just yourself but whoever was once in your place. The aftermath of your choices would change their life, and your call was to stand up for them.

Your brows furrowed and your eyes flashed with cruel disbelief as you glared at him. Shoving his hand away from you, you croaked out, “How dare you treat them like this?”

Minho looked confused. Them? What did you mean? Who were you referring to? Before he could open his mouth to ask, you took a step back and glared pointedly at him. There were droplets in your eyes that you were unable to hide completely. Nobody has ever treated you this roughly before, but you weren’t upset. Those were frustrated waters. The more visible part of your hooded eyes wore a deep-seated contempt that Minho has never seen from you before.

You felt like a completely different person to him.

“I can’t believe they love you,” you sneered. “How could anyone ever love you like this?” 

Like a bullet, your words pierced through him, hitting bull's eye on his board of insecurities. He was rendered speechless at your words. All he could do was cast his gaze down at the floor and think about them. You, taking the silence as an opportunity, glanced back at the girl who stood quietly behind Minho. She didn’t quite return your gaze, possibly shocked to hear such harsh and defensive words coming out of your mouth. Not once did you consider how she was feeling. She was practically invisible until her appeared in your sight. 

You rolled your eyes before you turned and left the room. All thoughts to thank him earlier vanishing in thin air, and it would take quite the journey before they come back to you.

You stomped to the living room and into the kitchen. The subtle change from the carpet floor to the marble tiles was magnified under the pressure of your feet. The cold didn’t even bother you that much, your mind was too occupied with the previous event involving Minho.

As soon as you walked into the open kitchen, you found a milk-colored paper bag sitting on the edge of the countertop with a name printed in the middle in a pretty, cursive font. Your eyes softened for a moment when you acknowledged that the bag contained the food Minho went and got for you, but the softness lasted only a millisecond as your mind repeatedly recalled the incident seconds ago.

Anger filled your eyes like an ocean. Who was he to do that? If he had let you go like a normal person and not pull that violent stunt on you, you would have never been this riled up. You didn’t care that he was cheating; it wasn’t like he was cheating on you per se. You cared that he thought it was okay to grab you (or ‘you’)!

Turning away from the takeout bag, you approached the refrigerator and opened it to search for some eggs and meat so you could cook a meal like you used to do when you finally run out of instant noodle packs to boil. After taking out the necessary ingredients, you searched through the cabinets to find a pan to use but it was to no avail. Everything was either bowls and plates or more salt and sugar.

A frustrated huff escaped your lips, your cheeks puffing out and you gritted your teeth before you slammed the cabinet door shut. You stood up from the ground with a curse under your lips and your hands on your hips. With light sweat on your forehead and your unsightly floral pajama set, [Name], you do look like someone’s grandparent at the moment.

Footsteps made you avert your attention from the hiding pan to where the sound came from. Stumbling into your sight was the girl you just saw, with Minho following shortly behind her. You met eyes with him first, and despite wanting to peel your eyes away from him, you held onto his gaze challengingly to make a point. Minho felt his hands tremble as his mind suffered a faint disassociation.

He was right. You were not the person he knew anymore.

Turning around to look at the eggs and frozen meat you set on the kitchen counter, you stared at it as if contemplating your next move, then you turned back to the two with a shrug. Your tone was beyond slurred and impolite. “Where is the pan?”

“What do you need it for?” Minho asked.

“To knock you out,” you deadpanned, then you visibly scoffed with an eye-roll. “For cooking. Have you never seen people use one before?”

“I bought the food already.”

“I know.” You made a beckoning gesture with your hand. “Tell me where the pan is.”

“You don’t even know how to cook,” the girl interjected, her brows furrowing slightly at your vindictive tone as she assumed your poor attitude here was to compensate for what you just saw of her and Minho.

“Are we friends? I don’t know you,” you said factually.

She laughed in disbelief. “You do know me. I’m Yuna.” 

“Nice to meet you, Yuna, but I’m afraid I won't try to remember,” you said, eyes scratching fire on her skin. She looked taken back by your gaze, which may be the reason why she didn’t retaliate. Glaring back at Minho, you waited for him to answer your question about the location of a cooking pan. You didn’t know if he simply refused to tell you anything or if he didn’t know either, but you snapped either way as your patience reached its limit.

Widening your eyes at him in disbelief, you exclaimed, “Oh my god, Minho! Just tell me where the fucking pan is so I can make myself dinner!”

Now it was Minho who looked startled. You narrowed your eyes at him then, trying to piece together exactly who you used to be before this soul-switching event happened. Judging from how shocked both him and Yuna were, you must have been one mellow and kind person. It was not to say you didn’t possess those traits either. You definitely did, but Minho has done nothing to deserve your goodness, and you would not be the bigger person and give it to him.

“I asked a simple question.” You rolled your eyes and waved your hands in front o your chest in a dismissive manner as you moved from your spot to head out of the kitchen. “I’ll ask someone else.”

Minho watched as you stomped out of the kitchen. When you brushed past him, he wanted to reach his hand out to stop you from leaving. For what reason? He could not conclude. He wanted to answer your question, which was that he could only guess where all the cooking utensils were because he’s not once tried to make dinner. He wanted to ask you to clarify a few things, starting from what happened to you. He wanted to urge you to calm down. Mostly, he wanted to apologize for what he did to you.

But his muscles were rigid and his heart hollowed when he turned to your leaving figure. Your words echoed in his head over and over again. How could anyone ever love you like this? How could anyone ever love you like this, Minho? How?

The sound of a door slamming could be heard all the way from where he stood. Minho licked his lower lip slowly in realization, a realization that relied on a mere assumption. It could explain your sudden change of attitude, at least. The thought jolted his mind awake and he turned around, preparing to leave the kitchen and go after you for answers.

Have you stopped loving him? Or, judging by those words, have you ever loved him?

“Hey, where’re you going?” Yuna asked when he noticed his urgency.

“I’m going to talk to them,” he replied.

“But they’re mad at you–“

“I know.”

“So don’t go. They wouldn’t want to talk to you anyway,” she said with a half-smile. 

“I can’t, Yuna. I need to talk to them about something important.” Minho carefully moved his hand out of her grasp. “Something is off about them, I can feel it..”

“You can wait a while, Minho.” She tugged onto his arm again. “You should let them cool off. How about we sit down and eat?”

Minho paused to consider the suggestion. You were angry. He could tell by the stomping and the glaring and the cursing. Since he has never seen you like this, there was no guessing to what intensity your anger could rise. You might start throwing sharp objects at him for all he knew. But somehow, that only made him want to ‘resolve’ the situation even more. It felt as if there was a clock hanging above your head, counting down each second of him stalling and not talking about what happened, and when the clock ticks zero it would be too late for him.

(It should have been too late for him ages ago, but ‘you’ had been patient, far too patient with him.)

“I can’t. I have to go talk to them now,” he replied and once again moved his arm away. This time, he quickly took a few steps away so he could be out of reach. He gave Yuna a short smile. “Go home, okay? Text me when you get back safely.”

Yuna watched with slumped shoulders as Minho quickly made his way up the stairs and disappeared into the hallway. Her lips pursed, confused and disappointed.

She has liked Minho for as long as she could remember now. As horrible as the arranged marriage was to her, Minho has never expressed a fondness for you and that he has never shown any form of attachment towards this arrangement. If anything, he has been nothing but spoiled and distant when it came to you. It was only because of that. That was the only reason why she reacted well with the marriage and that her love-struck mind deemed it moral to try and steal Minho away from you.

But why? Why was Minho so caught up now? 

Yuna ran a hand through her long, silky hair. She glanced around the kitchen, her eyes settling on the takeout dinner. She gulped nervously. Before she left the house, she grabbed the food with her.

You were too caught up in your thoughts to hear the doors to the closet opening. Your head was lowered to stare at the ground visible between your crossed legs. One of your hand was at the mercy of your nail-biting habit while the other one was clenched into a tight fist and resting on top of your ankle. You were hunched in the middle of your enormous closet, mumbling out your thoughts.

Your initial goal was to live this life of yours as invisibly as you could. You were not going to destroy this person’s life. You were not going to destroy their relationships and definitely not their marriage. For as long as you would be here, you would try to go along pretending like you were somebody else. When you finally leave this place, you would hand this life back to the original ‘you’ as if they never left!

Your goal was facing a bit of an intrusion—Lee Minho.

Without any attachment and responsibilities, it was easy to stand up to him. Doing it for the sake of a weaker person was even easier to do. Who was he to be so rough with his spouse? What was his problem? Not to mention that incident was not the only bad example you could raise, there were so many more things about him that were unlikely and unfathomable! You were considering whether you want to help ‘you’ do the deed and cut all ties with Minho.

He was not good for you, and the original you were probably too in love to see that. That must be why they stayed, considering there was a lack of evidence for any hostage or abusive scenarios. Therefore, you would be more than happy to help them get out of this situation, even though it might hurt them in the short run. To be extra cautious, you could write a explanation letter and conduct a plan for their temporary financial coverage if confirmed that Minho was their only source of security. 

You could do this. You could save a life! Hurray [Name], you’re finally doing something useful!

“What are you mumbling about?” Minho asked as he knelt on one knee in front of your hunched figure.

You snapped your head up and immediately, your thoughtful eyes turned into a glare. You rasped out a yell, “None of your business!”

His expression did not waver, so you scoffed. “What the hell are you doing here? You can’t be checking up on me.”

“Why can’t I be?” Minho tilted his head to the side.

“Because you are an asshole.” Yu rolled your eyes, finally having the sense to scoot away from him. You sat up straight, still glaring at him but the tension in your muscles has slightly relaxed upon seeing his soft, but still stoic, gaze. “Seriously, what do you want?”

“I’m checking up on you,” he replied. “What are you doing in the closet out of all places?”

“I love this closet. You wouldn’t know.” You shrugged and turned to the side, facing the light around the mirror on your table. “It is quiet. It helps me think.”

“What are you thinking about?” Minho asked, his eyes never leaving you as if he was trying to catch every detail of your movements.

You didn’t answer for a short minute, your eyes boring holes into the wooden desk. When you finally did, you have already made the difficult decision in your head, and you were completely ready to execute it.

“I am deciding if I have ever loved you. It seems like I haven’t,” you told him with a neutral expression as if you were spilling nothing but information that contained no emotional destruction within them. “Or maybe I did, but I certainly don’t now.”

Minho’s mind blanked out. There was his answer. The only thing that was circulating his head were your words, and he didn’t understand why they hurt him so much. He, too, knew he had been distant and cruel to you for most of the marriage. There was no reason for him or anybody else to believe he would ever be sad if the marriage breaks up somehow. But he was hurting. Hearing you confess your lack of endearment stung him like a needle to the skin.

Immediately putting on a facade, Minho raised an eyebrow and he leaned away a little. “Really? Well, what do you suggest we do then?”

You blinked at his cooperative response. This was going too well for your liking, but perhaps your fate had decided to finally be nice to you for once. Shrugging at him, you said, “What else can we do? Let’s talk divorce.”

His heart jumped at the word but his face controlled all that he could express. The jump was not hectic enough for him to burst out of his usual character yet. Heaving out a heavy sigh, Minho smirked with a laugh. “Yeah, right. Why would the people who forced us together agree to separate us?”

It was your turn to laugh now. Everything was going as planned. You should be suspicious of that, but you’d rather relish in the present. “Oh, Minho,” you mused. “There isn’t much you know about arranged marriages, do you?”

He furrowed his brows at you in confusion, and for once you finally let your guard down. Standing up, you urged him to do the same as you walked over to the door. “Come on. I’ll cook us some food and we’ll talk about it together.”

“Like I said, I already got food.” Minho rolled his eyes as he stood up and followed suit behind you, his heart still beating fast.

You glanced down at your slippers and hummed. Now that he’s somewhat agreed to separation, you decided you no longer have to hold a grudge against him. Having some good, expensive food and talking about the shining end to your marriage sounded like a very great end to this problem. Turning to look behind your shoulder, you nodded at him. “Alright, let’s see what you got.”

If all goes as you assumed, you were almost one hundred percent sure his mother hates your guts. Unfortunately, the way to a perfect divorce in these dramatic circumstances was always through the male protagonists’ snobby and obnoxious mother, but you’ve got that covered! You’ve consumed so much media, these archetypes of people were predictable to you. 

You waited anxiously at the extravagant coffee house. It was a place for flower teas in floral China cups and overpriced cupcakes stacked in the shape of a fountain. You felt heavily out of place even with the expensive clothes you were wearing, and oh boy, were you anxious about being seen in public when your insides were scrambled with feelings of not belonging. Nobody could read your thoughts, but what if they could?

The conversation you had with Minho last night was a never-ending cycle of you trying to explain divorce to him and him shooting down all the possibilities you pull out of your pocket. He was defending this marriage like he wanted to keep it, and strangely, you would not be surprised that he did. After all, Minho could very well be that male character who was just stoic on the outside but was actually very sensitive on the inside.

However, that was none of your businesses. Who Minho was on the inside didn’t matter to you whatsoever. It poses no value if all he ever does is hide that part of him and mask himself with a terrible facade. An asshole with a secretly good heart is just an asshole. You have made the goal to divorce him, and there was that.

"Oh! There you are!”

An auntie-like voice jolted you out of your nervous state of mind, and you moved your eyes to find an old lady pulling out the chair before you and sitting down. She wore minimal makeup on her face, just enough to make her wrinkly skin shine over her old age. Her clothes were tacky and have an expensive air to them, which was typical of most expensive clothes. You supposed you were in no place to judge. 

“I am so sorry for being late!” she said. “I hope you haven’t been here for too long.”

“No, I got here five minutes ago.” You shrugged dismissively, your eyes too focused on watching her movement.

She who sat before you was none other than Minho’s mother, or so you thought who would be the bitch of the century. But everything she showed was against your normal drama characterizations—no tense shoulders, no frown, no condescending gaze, and no slow talking with an old woman nasal tone.

Instead, her eyes were warm as they glanced at you as if you were a long lost child of hers. She was more polite than ever as she explained why she was late for this supposed divorce conference you planned. This was completely unexpected. You weren’t sure how to react now that the possibility of not being able to bring up a divorce has risen.

“Do you know what you want to order?”

You blinked a few times at her and glanced down at the menu. You haven’t gotten the time to look at it, but it felt like you would lose your appetite as soon as you look at the prices printed on the menu. Picking up the menu, you gave her a faint smile and opened the booklet with a thick velvet cover. You laughed a little at yourself. There were no prices labeled. Of course. Rich people need not know how much things cost. Those irresponsible midgets only pay.

“I will get the green tea cake. It is my favorite,” she mentioned, finally setting down the menu.

“Oh, really? Then I guess I should try that out too,” you quickly followed, not really bothering to decide what you feel like consuming as you were already too busy thinking of what to do with your plan.

“Okay great! Let me call the waiter over!”

You smiled at her blindly, still not paying any attention to your surroundings. Oh, you have caught yourself on another stump, [Name]. While still wanting a divorce—oh god, this word would not be leaving your mind anytime sooner—you were starting to think perhaps Minho’s sweet mother would not be the easiest way to signing the papers. She doesn’t seem to hate you at all, which only served as a disadvantage to you in this situation.

You hummed. There was that. But just because she really liked you wouldn’t mean you couldn’t talk to her about wanting to end a marriage with her son. Perhaps a more civilized conversation could be held where you two talk the arranged marriage over like actual adults, and she would most likely only convince you to rethink your decision more carefully without knowing you already did.

It was not the path you were hoping to cross but it would still be a path with the desired result at the end, so you supposed there was no harm in being honest about what you want.

“What is it that you want to talk to me about?”

Alas, a lot of things are easier said than done. I am pretty sure you knew that fairly well with your many years of experience on Earth.

“I… uh…” You clenched your fists and squinted your eyes uncomfortably. The way you kept reminding yourself to be honest did nothing to your feelings.

Minho’s mother tilted her head to the side as her forehead creased with confusion. It was an expression she has never seen you have before, an expression that looked as if you were holding something back because you have something bad to say. To her knowledge, you never needed to say anything bad enough that it punches your moral consciousness in the gut. Not to her, at least. Not even when it was about her son.

“Is it about Minho–“

“I want a divorce.”

The second your voice dropped, so did her expression. You couldn’t look at her, and the striking remorse was baffling you. None of this was your fault, nor have you spend enough time to develop a bond with Minho’s mother, so why should you feel bad about telling her you wanted to leave her son? These people were all strangers! Was this the power of innate empathy people kept yapping about needing to possess?

A look of realization was apparent in her overall troubled expression. Her eyes sparking a hint of light as it dawned on her that Minho has finally done something that reached and crossed the breaking point for you, and it has tempted you to properly ask for a divorce. After the sudden startlement came a wave of tranquility, as if she already knew this would happen sooner or later.

“We can’t do that.” That was all she told you.

“Minho already told me about everything when we discussed this yesterday,” you pressed on carefully. “Legally, I can.”

She gave you a faint look of surprise, possibly from hearing that you and Minho had already talked this over. Then she sighed with a shook of her head. "If you two do get a divorce, there would be no reason for my husband to continue sponsoring your father’s company and keep it going. Your father’s legacy will fall.”

You held back a witty remark at the fact that she was talking as if your father was some prophet who died saving the world and you were supposed to be in line for his succession. Both your father and her husband were both just the CEO of some really big company, you assumed. You didn’t even know what company it was! Cosmetic? Convenience store? Toilet seats? You’d say let it crumble, but for the sake of who would inhabit your being when you return to your world, you denied that approach.

“Why do I have to marry your son for your husband to sponsor my father’s company?” you asked instead. “Sponsorship doesn’t require marriage. It only requires money.”

“Money requires relations,” she said. “He has no reason to help your father when your family was facing bankruptcy until you and Minho got married.”

You pursed your lips together. “There is no relationship going on between me and Minho.”

“And nobody has to know that,” she said, looking at you pointedly. For the first time, the soft aura she exuded was replaced with something formal, more businesslike. “Nobody knows that your marriage is an unhappy one except for me, [Name]. You were the one who caved in and told me.”

Minho had the sense to at least pretend as if he liked you in public. That was rather unexpected even though ‘acting as if everything is okay in front of people’ has always been the first rule to these arranged marriages. And the former you, too, knew enough to not show Minho that they were both uncomfortable and unappreciated when they were with him. 

Your hand flew up to your chin, and your fingertips lingered against the aftertouch of Minho’s grip. Your memories had conveniently left out the part where you dug your nails into his skin until it hurt and you never tried to see if his wrist was okay.

“I know Minho can be a little insufferable sometimes, but I hope that you can remember how much you love him whenever those times come,” she leaned forward to speak, her tone much more sympathetic now. “Of course, I am not telling you to never get mad at him. I just hope that you can love him, always, even when you hate him.”

You blinked nervously at her. That was profoundly cheesy and unrealistic. It wasn’t impossible, though. You were sure the former you had mastered the art of hating and loving Minho as a husband. But you weren’t them, and while you didn’t outrightly refuse to fall in love with Minho, he has done absolutely nothing to gain your good interest. The condescending gazes, the potential cheating, the dull voice, the rules, and bad temper—you just couldn’t like him at the moment. And if he doesn’t come back around and change his attitude, you were afraid the impression would become too hard to budge.

“And if that has become too hard for you to deal with, at least do it for your parents’ sake.”

Oh, she pulled the ‘dead parents’ card on you, [Name]! Destroying a person’s love life, even though it was a terrible love life, was a kind of guilt you believed you would get over eventually. But their parents were a whole different story. Family relationship was always a pickle. You’d hate to open the cabinet and steal the bones of those dusty skeletons with you. You wouldn’t suffer real consequences, only those your conscience imposes upon you. 

You scrunched your nose up in dismay, feeling stubborn and wanting to act on it so badly, but the situation was starting to feel more and more hopeless as it went on. Biting your lower lip, you asked with a soft voice, not wanting to startle any unwanted suspicion. “Do I… do I even love him at all?”

The look she gave you was patient as if she understood your mixed feelings. She nodded her head. “You have always told me you do. Unless you are lying to me, I don’t see how you don’t love my son.”

You grimaced. No duh? She would think the former you was in love with her son unless it was found to be a lie. That sentence didn’t need to be said. Nevertheless, you glanced down at your hands and clenched them together. You felt like yourself, you looked like yourself, and you sounded like yourself. However, no matter from which part you look at, this wasn’t your life. This ‘rich husband and a bad arranged marriage’ life wasn’t yours. The ‘working overtime and dunking down ramen soup’ life was yours and where you were only qualified enough to live.

If divorcing Minho would come with a package that held more than just leaving a toxic relationship, you would rather not do it. Suffering all the other consequences wasn’t your choice to make. 

Seeing the amount of stress that engulfed your body when you finally finished with lunch, your driver took the liberty to drive you all the way to a shopping mall so you could enjoy yourself and cool off some steam. It was a very heartwarming gesture, and you didn’t forget to thank him before you left the car and waited for him to drive away.

The shopping mall was regular. It was the kind of mall you would come across if you joined a tour group to travel to another country. You also liked to call it the shopping mall where you only walk in and never buy anything because every store inside was either too expensive or not of your taste. Most likely both. Despite having more than a sufficient amount of money on your hands at the moment, you just could not shake off the lack of interest for any of these high-end brands.

Puffing air into your cheeks, you chewed on the boba you just bought from a store located at a rather invisible corner. It was the only item you were willing to spend money on, and thank god the store did not try to amp up the prices as Disneyland would with a bottle of tasteless water just because it was located somewhere lavish.

Your mind has wandered off once again, as it has been doing recently. With these events happening all at once, and with your drama-obsessed brain’s absolute calculation, there was one very important thing missing from your life right now: the best friend.

It could be a man or a woman. Depending on the gender, their personalities would vary greatly in the most predictable and distasteful way ever. The man would be great; handsome, caring, smart, and unfortunately a doormat for everyone to step over. The woman, which you had a suspicion may be a role filled by Yuna already, would be terrible; beautiful but jealous and shallow. From what you’ve experienced, your best friend would mostly likely be a man. Possibly extremely in love with you but somehow never got picked, and now his opportunity has vanished due to an arranged marriage.

“Yeah–where is my super hot best friend?” You stopped in the middle of the mall, eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction and lips jutted out into a thoughtful pout. You were dying to meet him, whoever he may be, all just to get a sense of relief that you’ve got somebody to lean on at a time like this.

(You wouldn’t fool me, though. I know you want to satisfy your second-lead syndrome.) 

Continuing to walk, your hearing slowly came back to reality and your ears began to pick up noises outside of those in your brain. A very familiar voice rang around your area and you paused once again to hear it more clearly.

“Come on, wouldn’t I look nice in this? Let’s go in, Minho!”

Your eyes rounded at the name and you pursed your lips together. How uncanny. You have never experienced such outrageous coincidence before. Out of all the shopping malls in this country, your husband has to be this particular one and at this particular spot. You squinted your eyes then, your straw sucking up nothing because it was pulled half-way into the air where there were no liquid. A continuous hallowing noise came through the suction, but you didn’t care. This was adding up to the scene of a misunderstanding. 

What should you do, you wondered. Make a scene? Complain? Cry about your cheating husband even though he probably wasn’t cheating? If only you were at a fancy restaurant! You’ve always wanted to throw a glass of wine at someone’s face!

“Walk away, [Name],” you muttered to yourself, even after all those excited thoughts, and you fastened your pace.

“Oh–hey! Hey, [Name], is that you?”

You almost choked on the boba in your mouth. Pressing your lips together, you snapped your head up with the most menacing glare you could muster to flash it at the new intruder, and immediately you came face to face with a man with the cutest grin you have ever seen. A strangled noise blew from your throat and came out of your pursed lips, almost out of your nostrils. It was an ugly sound but you could not care less as you beamed inwardly at the sight of the man approaching you. Chubby cheeks, nice smile, not very tall but muscular!

“Oh my god,” you whispered under your breath, “it’s you.”

“Yes, is it I,” he laughed at you. “Why? Did you miss me?”

“Definitely, you have no idea.” You nodded, still chewing on your boba.

He looked surprised for a moment as he tilted his head and that bright smile dimmed. His eyes turned into those of observant ones as he started to look you up and down, then he reached out to pinch your cheek gently while he hummed.

“[Name]…” he started slowly. “You look different. Did you do something–”

“Hands off, Seo Changbin.”

Hands off—what, oh my lord. You widened your eyes at the three simple yet demanding words, and you found your stupid heart leaping at them. Pursing your lips, you lowered your head to hide a smile. God, [Name], how low are��your standards? How did that manage to get your heart racing?

Minho didn’t attempt to swat Changbin’s hand away from you, the latter did it on impulse upon seeing the unamused expression on Minho’s face. Raising an eyebrow, Changbin showed nothing more than a sarcastic smile as he leaned back on his weight and stared Minho down lazily from behind you.

“Minho, how wonderful to see you here,” Changbin greeted. His eyes darted to the side to find Yuna walking up to join the gathering, and his forehead creased with light anger for a second.

Shifting his gaze to you, he was surprised to find you sipping on your drink casually as your eyes darted between Yuna and Minho, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He raised an eyebrow at you and stood up straighter, completely confused by the lack of pain flickering in your eyes.

“Hey, Minho,” you greeted. “Hello to you too, Yuna.”

They looked as if they just got called out but despite the faintly rooted embarrassment, the two of them returned the greeting politely. The tension was high and thick, you couldn’t break it with just anything. Not even with a wave of Yuna’s perfectly manicured and sharp nails, which if you’ve had tried, they’re almost impossible to chip on purpose. 

“Well, if there is nothing important, I will be leaving.” You shrugged, not quite looking at Minho in the eyes. You couldn’t. Not after having lunch with his mother and after everything she has told you about him. Turning around, you smiled at Changbin. “I am hungry. Can we find somewhere to sit down and eat? Preferably a place with normal, human portion food.”

Changbin cleared his throat. Your remarks were weird. He discreetly threw a glance at Minho, not so much asking for permission but to access the sudden change of dynamic between you two. The man looked even more off-putting than you did, like he was confused and failing to pretend he understood the situation. It was hilarious. Changbin smirked to himself and nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

You gave him a soft smile of gratitude, happy that he agreed with no trouble. You didn’t suspect he would anyway; he was supposed to be a pushover. When you turned to Minho again, he looked as stoic as he has always been. You shivered at his expression and gave him a grimace. “Stop frowning, Minho. Your face will get stuck like that.”

Changbin stifled a laugh while Yuna widened her eyes in displeasure. She opened her mouth to speak, but she found it hard to shoot down the truth. Minho does keep his expression on constant angry mode and, while she wouldn’t bluntly say it the way you just did, she also would not mind seeing Minho crack a smile now and then.

“How do you expect me to smile when my spouse is out with someone else?”

“Rethink your sentence.” You glanced between him and Yuna.

Minho noticed and  heaved a sigh as he closed his eyes. He explained, “I didn’t plan to come out with her. She dragged me out here.”

You felt bad, and with your world’s state of capitalism and experiences of borderline free labor, feeling bad for someone that wasn’t yourself could be considered a golden empathetic response. Pursing your lips and sucking in a big, unwilling breath, you settled into a leg shaking motion to replace stomping in public like a child. You stopped after a brief moment once you realized you were too occupied with getting to know Changbin to care.

“Well,” you said, gesturing towards the heartbroken girl and already turning away. “There is no harm in letting her drag you around for another hour. You’re gonna have fun! I’ll see you at some point!”

Waving those two a generous goodbye, you quickly beckoned for Changbin to follow you before Minho could get the chance to say something your pettiness has to respond to. After walking for a little, Changbin finally breathed out a puff of air as he placed his hand on his chest to release the awkward tension.

“That was weird,” he said. “But hey, you handled that well! I am really surprised… and confused, I guess?”

“Of course I handled that well. Who do you think I am?” You rolled your eyes.

He laughed. “I guess there isn’t anything for you to worry about. You two are happily married after all.”

You blinked at his response, confused for only a short moment before you quietly exhaled an 'oh.’ Minho’s mother was telling the truth, 'you’ really did not tell anyone else aside from her about how unhappy this marriage has been for you and Minho. Not even the best friend knew.

You looked at the ground. Damn, you were hoping you could ignite some feverish fire between you two. Changbin seemed like someone who you could have amazing chemistry with, as best friends and perhaps, as lovers. However, judging by the way he acted around Minho and how he didn’t seem to mind your marriage at all, you doubted his affection for you was any more than just very close friends. The best friend zone—a delicate place, with steel walls and whatnot. 

“Yeah, I really wouldn’t worry.” You smiled.

“Besides, if anything is to happen to Minho and Yuna then it would have ages ago.” Changbin shrugged. “Nothing ever did.”

You grimaced at his remark. Oh god, Yuna. You poor girl.

Minho looked up at the clock. He could feel his anxiousness increase as the clock ticked away the morning after midnight. Checking his phone again, it took him another glance at his zero missed calls and zero new texts to remember you had left your phone at home before you went outside this afternoon.

Changbin still has not read the single, semi-threatening text Minho sent before ten o'clock asking about your whereabouts and demanding him to send you home immediately. He did figure that a reply would be too generous of an act from Changbin. For one, Changbin hated Minho. For two, you were forcibly married to Minho, which only made the hatred go even deeper into the ground. At this point, Minho was one broken secret away from being torn to shreds by your best friend. 

He bit his lower lip as his eyes trailed over to the clock once again.

Where were you? You have never been home this late before. Not to mention your actions today at the shopping mall! It was nothing like what Minho thought you were capable of! You had never once ditched him to hang out with Changbin. He practically doesn’t exist whenever you so much as feel Minho’s presence, not because you were scared of him but because you genuinely did love him.

You did love him, did you not? He was sure you did. 

In the midst of his thoughts, the front door to the house conveniently swung open. You stepped into the living room and immediately, the old lady who you saw the other morning rushed up to you with a worried look on her face.

“Where have you been!” She lightly hit your arm as she scolded.

You gave her a faint laugh. Her harmless scolding was endearing to you. You hadn’t known you shared such an affectionate dynamic but you weren’t surprised, nor were you opposed to it.

“Changbin took me to a lot of places,” you replied. “Today was fun!”

“Oh, dear lord��and you left your phone at home too!” she said. “You got Minho worried sick–you got me worried sick! I was gonna go home but I wanted to make sure you will come back safely.”

To be frank, you had beeped her out for the most part of her words. Mildly focusing on cooing at her about how Changbin had taken very good care of you this whole day, and her looking as if you were chanting some forbidden spell because you were talking about another man, your mind lingered on the piece of information she gave you: you got Minho worried sick. 

Call it your calculative and distrusting nature, but you were having a hard time believing he did it out of care. He thought you unfaithful likely just as much as you thought him. You were okay with the feelings being mutual for now. 

“I’m sorry for coming back so late. I will make sure to bring my phone next time.”

“You make sure to come back home early next time!” she exclaimed. “Don’t forget your phone again!”

“Okay, I promise.” You nodded, pursing your lips into a grin.

She waved at your expression that mirrored that of an ignorant child. You were listening, you just weren’t really taking her seriously, in the most respectful and playful way possible.

“You kids,” she sighed and placed her wrinkly hand on your arm. “Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”

Your chest warmed and you instantly knew why. You missed your mom. She would probably pamper you like this too if you ever came home this late, and probably with a much longer and serious lecture. You wouldn’t know, though. You lived far and you were always working now that you have grown up. Once you were able to return to your world, you figured giving your parents a visit wouldn’t be a bad idea. 

“I did. I ate dinner,” you said. “I am really full.”

“Are you sure? I can cut you some apples if you want. There are fruits in the kitchen! Or maybe you want some oranges?”

“No, that’s okay.” You smiled at her gratefully. “I am full. I ate so much today.”

“Okay,” she said, albeit she appeared suspicious. “If there is nothing else then I am going to go home.”

“Now? It’s really late. Why don’t you stay here?” you suggested, turning around to look out the window by the door before turning back to her.

“No worries. The driver was waiting for you to come home too so I can ask for a free ride,” she laughed as she moved over to the front door. Before she left, she turned around to face you slightly, and she nagged, “Go tell Minho you’re back!”

You only gave her a forced smile in response. As soon as those doors closed, a sarcastic and exaggerated grimace appeared on your face. You turned around, walking into the house as you mumbled mean nothings under your breath about not believing that Minho was actually worried about your whereabouts. He’s definitely got better things to do, and it wasn’t as if he cared. Why should he worry? This has to be a dignity issue. 

Despite not wanting to talk to him, you found yourself walking to his office anyway. Clearing your mind and your throat, you pursed your lips together in dismay before you knocked on the door. Your eyes widened when it immediately swung open, the lack of waiting you needed to do startling you. Minho’s furrowed brows relaxed for a brief second at the acknowledgment that you were fine and back under the roof, but as usual, he returned to his annoyed state before you could catch the concern appearing in his eyes.

He thought twice about reaching over to grab your arm so he could pull you into the room; the emotional fragment in his chest still aching, even though it wasn’t his place to hurt over something he did to you. Hesitantly taking a step back, he opened the door wider and cleared his throat to put emphasis on his current, very annoyed mood. “We need to talk.”

That is never good. The words itself were fine, but the gloomy tone was never good. Despite never hearing that from anybody other than your parents, your muscles clenched at the simple idea of what that line contained, especially now that you were supposedly married. Taking a tentative step forward, you spared Minho a glance before you walked into the office and paused right in the middle of the room.

You grimaced at the memory of when you were here last time. It was not a good sight to see, not that you had many complaints about whatever really went down back then because you still, until this moment, have zero care of Minho’s love life outside of this failing marriage. The grimace on your face expanded when the door slammed shut. You turned around and eyed Minho with a surprised look.

He glared back at you, obviously angry, and you seemed to have an idea as to why that was. He walked near you, but not close enough to create too much intimidation, and he crossed his arms. “Where the hell have you been?”

“I’ve been out,” you said, calmly in hopes that it would rub off on him. “To malls and the streets. Nowhere too far away from here.”

“You were out for really long. Do you know what time it is?” He asked. “It’s way past midnight!”

“I know, and I’m sorry about that, really,” you said. “I wasn’t actively checking the time and, well, one thing led to another and by the time we finished chatting, it’s past twelve!”

Minho gulped down the competitiveness that arose when he heard that you have been out with Changbin for the entire day, having fun and chatting like a pair of best friends, which he often forget you were. It should be normal but Minho could not help the tinted jealousy that continued to pour out of his lips in the form of regrettable words. Not to mention, his feelings were magnified after the conversation you both had about a divorce.  

He has really gotten too used to receiving your undivided love and attention that, upon the vaguest chance of anybody stealing the throne away, he growls and attacks to make sure he keeps it to himself. Rolling his eyes, he scoffed out a laugh, the corner of his lips quirked up into an unamused smirk. His arms fell from his chest and landed on his side where they found a place to rest on his hips.

“Oh, right, I forgot you were having fun with Changbin.”

“Oh?” The questioning sound was inaudible. Your mind spun fast to understand what he meant with those petty words, and despite being quite entertained by his reaction, you still felt bitter at how unfairly he was treating you. “Yet, you are with Yuna today.”

“Like I said, she dragged me out–“

“You are a grown, not to mention a man. You have more than enough capability to refuse any unwanted situation,” you said. “All you had to do was tell her no. She would have listened to you considering how much she likes you.”

“What? You’re just going to be mad at me about that for the rest of your life?” Minho clicked his tongue in annoyance. He ran a hand through his hair, turning away to convince himself not to explode. “You know, I’ve got plenty of reasons to be mad at you about too!”

You shrugged. “Enlighten me.”

“You went to talk to my mom about getting a divorce,” he accused, his eyes sparklingly wide. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was so upset that he was about to cry.

A part of you was shocked that she told on you, but you wouldn’t put the blame on her for talking to her own son about his relationship. You just hoped she didn’t disclose in detail what you talked to her about. After all, you have really only known Minho for a few days. Your bad opinions of him, although true, were not ideals you wanted to weigh on his back for the rest of his life. A couple of days should not sum up his entire life.

However, in the heat of this situation, your logic was completely thrown out and you both were only aiming to hurt and blame each other as much as you could.  

“Huh… I see.” Your shoulder relaxed and your gaze softened as a realization dawned upon you. “You aren’t mad about me coming home late. You don’t care about that at all,” you breathed out a faint, bitter chuckle, “you’re just mad because I talked to your mom about getting a divorce and you got an earful today.”

“Oh, oh no. It is so much more than that.”

“What else are you mad about?” you asked, feeling your cheeks heat up as you desperately tried to defend yourself the same way Minho was trying to stand on his ground. “If this is about Changbin, I highly suggest you stop caring–“

“I have to care!” He raised his voice, taking a step towards you. He stopped when you took the same steps back. “We are married, and you just went running off with some other man for an entire day–”

“Let’s not act like you love me enough to care about who I am with, Minho,” you pointed out, furrowing your brows at him. “Even if we are married legally, emotionally, we are as connected as parallel lines.”

He paused at your pretentious yet still poetic line, wondering since when have you gotten the ability to talk with your chin up like that. Then he snapped back to the argument at hand, his head tilting to the side as he hardened his gaze at you. But he wasn’t that angry anymore. He was confused, or at least baffled. “You don’t think I care about you even a slightest bit?”

You heaved a sign. Well, let’s count off all the things he has done for you so far: putting you back to your bed after you fainted, buying you dinner, being a little possessive when Changbin was pinching your cheek, worrying about you being late. For sure, those were pretty heart-racing things to do, and it seemed the effect on your fragile feelings were magnified with his good-looks. But it would not be enough if he only does good things in the shadow. His pretty silhouette could never outrun the shadow that was his stone-cold facade, and he was over here chasing after the impossible sun.

“Maybe a little bit, but I don’t want to settle for a little bit of care,” you told him. “Especially when there is someone out there who is able to provide me with so much more straightforwardly.”

Minho laughed sardonically, rolling his eyes. “We just circle back to that insufferable best friend of yours–“

“No!” You snapped, clapping your hands together on impulse.

Your eyes were wide and teary now, you were really getting into the argument. It felt almost exhilarating; you have never fought with anyone like this before. Fighting over love and whatnot. It wasn’t what you hoped to do. You were really aiming for a much calmer conversation. But at the mention of Changbin, who has been nothing but patient and kind to you, you could not stop yourself from setting the record straight.

“This has nothing to do with Changbin. It has everything to do with you and your shitty attitude, Minho, starting from the first moment I met you until now!” You counted off your fingers, numbering the things he’s done. “You look at me like I’m beneath you. You talk to me like I’m not important at all. We don’t share a bed, we don’t share a closet. You set rules for me around the house. From the sound of it, I’m not even supposed to step into your room. Why is that, Minho? I am really curious about that, truly.”

You stopped talking, but you and him both knew there was more to say than all that you have spoken of.

“I have never complained about anything, have I? All I did is love you, and you took advantage of that to become a spoiled brat,” you said, your hands joined together for a moment before they released each other. Your fingers lingered on the ring, twisting it and turning it as you contemplated your next move.

Minho was speechless as he stared at the ground, but his head was positioned high enough for you to still see his expression. For the first time, he looked genuinely distressed. His fist clenched at his side and his lips trembling in realization. Of these past two days, of all the times before you were even here, of how he has treated you.

You breathed out a soft sigh after calming down. You were sure Minho must have good qualities in him that made ‘you’ fall in love with him in the first place. And, bouncing back to all the dramas you have watched, all characters like him are often too romantically incapable when it came to expressing their true feelings. It wasn’t like he didn’t love you, it was just that he didn’t know how to show it. People like him need a lot of time and comfort, which you were completely willing to give if he was willing to try.

“Look, Minho.” You volunteered to step up so you could be closer to him, closing the distance for an unreachable form of intimacy. You looked at him, an unknown feeling coming over you as you gently tipped his chin up with your fingertips. He looked at you, surprised, but he listened. “I am sure I loved you for a reason, but I can’t love you when you’re like this. I refuse to.”

“How could anyone ever love you like this?” Nobody can, Minho. Not when you couldn’t show the pile of gold locked up in your heart. What have you been so afraid of? Why wouldn’t you let it out?

Minho’s eyes watered and he bit his feelings back. “What do you want me to do?”

“If I tell you then there’s no meaning to it.” You shrugged as you let him go, and he missed the warmth of your touch. You reached for your own hand as you smiled politely at him. “You can hold onto this for me.”

You left the room after you handed him the object. The door closed behind him and Minho opened his hand. The wedding ring stood on his palm, shining bright and expensive. 

It looked as if it would cost him his entire heart.

[ofmermaidstories]

So on Good Friday I had drafted up a little post just—I dunno. It started off with me talking about my lunch (broiche toast with peanut butter, some slices of overpriced smoked cheddar and a pottle of cherry tomatoes that i’d halved and dressed with wholegrain mustard, salt and pepper and sesame oil), because i enjoyed it, and then because i had been thinking about it, i had mentioned how Australian grocery prices have climbed well above the global average.

I mentioned some of my favourite people to follow, on tiktok! Food accounts—the woman who does the Dollar Store budget videos, where she plans out meals around limited money, or accessibility. The young mum who’s videos are just her making lunch/dinner for her four little kids. The Palestinian man who used to review resturants and dishes before the war on Gaza—and who, before Tiktok took down the videos, had started posting himself making dishes from aid rations. In the end I just saved the post to my drafts because—there was no real point to the post, not really, beyond how unfair it is that food is swiftly becoming a luxury and how it shouldn’t be, for any of us, anywhere. Not us here in Australia with our 54% on average price increases, nor for American families that have to shop at Dollar Tree with their last $30 for the next two weeks.

And definitely not for the citizens of Gaza.

Israel is manufacturing a famine within Gaza’s borders. And just today, they murdered via airstrike a carload of World Central Kitchen aid workers. Seven in total, six foreign nationals and one Palestinian local. No aid organisation can operate within Gaza’s boarders without reporting their travel plans to the Israeli Invading Force. Their car was branded with the organisations logo. Israel has some of the best surveillance technology in the world—it is often the testing ground for the hot new stuff that then gets sold to the rest of our governments. Israeli knew who was in that car. And they targeted them anyway. And now because of their actions, the WCK is now “pausing (their) operations”. And who can blame them? Knowing that if you stay, you’re just putting more lives at risk—but it means how many less meals, now, less food for the Palestinians still there? All of our countries are cowards. The Australian government won’t even name Israel in its condemnation today, of the attack. The Australian government has let our only two real supermarket chains—Coles and Woolworths—create a duopoly where they can charge the public however much they want. We can’t help ourselves and we refuse to help other people—so what good are we, as a country? The boomers and the ignorant on facebook are too busy frothing at the mouth over the imaginary millionaire immigrants who come to Australia in boats and buy houses by the dozens, per family. So many of our problems—here in Australia, globally—would be solved if the majority of us realised the real enemy isn’t a people bomb-locked on their own land, or the refugees that make it here, or even each other but instead our own fucking governments, and the bastard corporations that are gripping them by the balls. I’m grateful for every meal I get to sit down to. But I would enjoy it a lot more if it were easier for all of us to eat—or if it were a CEO or politician or two on the plate itself.

[ot7stan4life]

Renegade Runaway

Sua (Dreamcatcher) x Female Reader

(1 part - completed ✅)

Word Count: 3700

Summary: In one last effort to save humanity, you travel back in time on a mission to stop the woman they call the “Renegade Runaway” from committing a cold blooded murder that sets the world on a course for destruction. Yet, you could’ve never expected to find an angel in that devil’s dress.

Warnings: mentions of violence, abuse, death, and war, positive ending

A/N: gotta give the title its credit-

"All this man has done is lie and cheat and kill,” the harsh words left the woman's lips like venom, poisoning the man beneath her black boot with guilt. Raising her pistol, she positioned the barrel of the gun between his eyes.

Standing there over him, triumphant-looking with her pink hair flowing in the rough wind, she could have easily been mistaken for an angel cast down from the Heavens. Only the red satin dress and burning hatred in her eyes revealed the hidden evil beneath those imaginary wings and glowing halo.

That’s how I’d envisioned my final encounter with the one they called the 'Renegade Runaway' before the world changed forever. Except, that moment didn’t quite go the way I’d planned…

My eventual journey there was long and tedious, starting all the way back to the day I was born. The world was war-torn, the planet exhausted and dying. The human race was on the brink of extinction. One final hope remained in the potential of time travel, one that I quickly decided to dedicate my life to. Though the final mission to prevent the end of times promised nothing for certain—not even a return trip home—I volunteered to see it through without hesitation knowing that my future was not guaranteed had I conceded to the Earth's fate.

The task was simple enough: prevent one murder that had been committed over three-hundred years ago. After centuries of research, it had been determined that this very moment was the one that catalyzed the butterfly effect that would eventually lead to the end of times. Researchers hoped that changing the outcome could potentially prolong the survival of mankind. It was our only promising solution, so we had to try. And my one single chance to test that theory started the first day I met the Renegade.

—

Waking from a deep, dark slumber, I found myself laid out across the grainy desert ground, head resting against the roots of an old tree with a dusty brown cowboy hat placed over my face to shield my pale skin from the ruthless sun rays cast down from above. The dirt and sand crunched under my boots when I finally stood upright and the hot wind whipped through my mid-length hair. Though I had studied this very town in this exact time period, suddenly being stripped from my own time and placed here, I was rather disoriented.

I was always told it never quite felt real. At least not at first.

A nearby whinnying brought my attention to a horse that stood at the ready beside me, anchored to a tree by the lead attached to its harness. It was a beast of an animal, standing a few feet taller than me, showing off its muscular body while shifting its weight from leg to leg. Though I had never seen one in person, I knew them well. The creatures often came up in categories such as farming, transportation, and warfare in my research of the Wild West.

Gathering the lead in my hands, the animal hesitantly let me take my place on its back and followed my commands when I spurred it on towards civilization. It took a moment to get used to riding, but once I felt more comfortable, I coaxed it into a gallop. Dust kicked up with every thud of the horse's hooves, blowing across the never-ending desert floor that blurred with waves of heat in the distance, obscuring the horizon line. The air stung my eyes and tasted like salt, leaving my throat dry and body parched. Even in the short journey to the local square, beads of sweat had accumulated on my forehead from the harsh climate—one that closely resembled the state of the entire planet back in my time.

As I neared the town, square-shaped buildings made of wood faded by the sun eventually came into view, accompanied by the bustle of western folk crossing the empty stretch between shops ahead of me. Just like the history book said, everyone here had a role to play. It was a community that, in a lot of ways, relied upon the efforts of every single individual to thrive. New faces were unusual and those that were born here almost always stayed here. Maybe it wasn't everyone's idea of paradise, but it was the only thing they knew, so they couldn't possibly picture something greater. There was this sense of acceptance, or rather, resignation. Most people gave into it, but a select few stood in resistance. In particular, women who desired more than being at a man's side with no power their whole lives rejected the traditional ways of the Wild West.

I could feel that sense of indignation the moment I stepped foot here. There was a storm brewing in this small western town. A storm started by one they called the Renegade Runaway. One that would catalyze a ripple effect of pain and suffering throughout the coming centuries. But that's why I was here now: to change that seemingly predetermined fate.

Riding up to the local saloon, I got off my horse and tied its lead to a nearby fence.

"Sheriff." My greeting was aimed towards a pale woman with short black hair flowing from underneath her cowboy hat as I stepped onto the wooden porch in front of the local saloon. The sand left boot prints behind me like chalk coating the brown walkway.

The woman I acknowledged was standing just a few feet away, leaning against the front of the building, one leg propped up on the wall behind her as her dusty brown eyes gazed over the desert horizon like a hawk. She wore dark cowboy boots over tan pants held up by a belt with a badge on her left hip and a holster housing a white and golden revolver on her right.

At my greeting, she cast her gaze towards me and used her leather gloved hand to tip the edge of her hat down in recognition. "Howdy." Her lips turned up in a closed smile making her high cheek bones prominent.

I noticed the tight lines framing her smile and the way her cheeks almost indented because of how well defined her face was. There was no doubt in my mind that she was in good shape and, if I weren't here strictly for business, I might've inquired just where she got such perfect genes from or how exactly she managed to acquire her position—being a woman and all.

I was looking for someone specific and as much as I would've loved to ask—I glanced down at her badge—Sheriff Kim for help, this wasn't exactly a matter that I needed local law enforcement to be involved in. In fact, having the Sheriff on my tracks was the very last thing I needed.

So, I ventured inside the saloon without another word to the woman and walked straight to the bar. The one person I figured I could count on to find information in a small old western town was the one who got to hear all the latest news and gossip thanks to her occupation: the bartender.

"What can I getcha?" She said in a low, cool, calm tone when I took a seat on one of the stools. Her voice matched her appearance and—as I would soon find out—her personality. She had on an oversized white shirt with a denim vest and denim jeans. I couldn't see below her waist, but I assumed she was wearing cowboy boots since that's all anyone wore around here. Her long grey hair was twisted up into a single bun on the back of her head with the black ends that looked burnt from a fire sticking out the top and two small strands of her bangs free to hang on either side of her face. She looked intelligent and friendly, but not too friendly. Although, I got the feeling she was trustworthy just from the aura she gave off.

"Just pop, but make it look like a drink." I wasn't one to drink often, but certainly not while on a job.

She didn't hesitate with my request and started pouring it just out of sight of the other guests, making me wonder if many people asked the same.

Folks often did illegal business in saloons, so if you were caught here without a drink someone might assume the same of you. Proud cowboys didn't tend to take a liking to bandits or crooks and, I'd imagine, neither did the Sheriff.

That in mind, I grabbed the glass as soon as the bartender was finished pouring and took a sip before looking around the place discreetly.

It was just before sundown and the bar was starting to fill up with people coming in after finishing their shifts. The usual working men occupied the place, though there seemed a lack of prostitutes lurking for a typical western saloon. It appeared as though the women here held more positions of power than most other cities during this time period–no doubt due to the woman I came to find.

Though, I didn't spot anything that seemed helpful to my case, so I looked back to the thin woman behind the bar. She was already looking back at me, like she knew I wanted to ask her something. I'm sure she was used to strangers coming in here and questioning her, but somehow I got the sense that she didn't seem to mind it.

"You wouldn't happen to know of a gal named Bora, would you?" I asked after taking another sip, assuming these people knew the Renegade by her real name.

Still, I found it hard to gauge the bartender's reaction; she didn't seem to give away her emotions all that easily, an almost disinterested expression permanently etched across her face. Maybe that came with the job, or maybe that really was just a part of her personality. Nonetheless it didn't help me get a sense of who Bora was to these people—or at least to her.

"Bora?" She seemed to ponder, her hands momentarily stopping their job of cleaning a glass while her brain was at work. "I know several Bora's,” she concluded, continuing on with her task as if she had never stopped.

I found it odd that she didn't say more. It made me wonder if she didn't want me to know the answer or if she simply didn't care enough to tell me.

"The Bora I'm looking for is... shall we say... in some trouble,” I added, hoping she would catch on.

Much to my surprise, the bartender cracked a half smile and let out a small chuckle.

"Trouble, huh?" Her head raised and her eyes shifted to the far side of the room. "You must be looking for the Renegade."

I followed her gaze and spotted a woman with light pink hair sitting at a table in the far corner of the room. Looking at her now, I wondered how I missed her before. She seemed to take up the entire room and appear invisible all at the same time. Finally being in her presence was something else entirely; her aura was captivating with a hint of underlying mystery and danger.

Without saying anything further to the bartender, I stood up and began walking over to where the woman was, completely forgetting my drink on the bar top. I thought I heard an amused 'good luck' from the bartender, but I was already so preoccupied with this mysterious woman that I very well could have imagined it.

From what I knew about Bora, she was the definition of trouble. Mumblings of the townsfolk would tell me that she was an outlaw, a rebel, a deserter, 'a devil in an angel's dress.' I knew better than to fully believe such rumors. However, she was dangerous, and because of that, I knew I couldn't count on getting the answers I needed out of her the old-fashioned way. If I wanted anything from her, I'd have to play the game her way.

"You don't by chance happen to be the one they call the Renegade, do you Miss?" I offered gently, hoping I didn't appear to pose a threat. Any wrong decision and I could lose my one chance at salvation for good.

Although, she didn't spare me a glance, grunting out a cold response,

"What do you want?"

I allowed my eyes to take in her appearance, or at least what I could see of it with her back turned to me. I suppose I didn't expect the over-dramatic townsfolk's descriptions of her to be so literal, but, to my surprise, she was wearing a red satin dress. Similar to the Sheriff, she had a holster around her waist that held a silver and wooden pistol. The weapon was all too familiar to me and now I was sure I had the right woman.

"It's less about what I want and more about what you want,” I replied, trying a different approach.

She still didn't look at me, but she turned her head slightly, giving me a view of her side profile.

Maybe the only thing that shocked me more than her attire was her appearance. The single sharp feature on her face was her pointed nose. Other than that, her appearance looked rather soft. All the drawings I had seen of her painted her as a fierce woman with hard features and a striking gaze. Seeing her now, had I not witnessed the outcome of her future actions, I might've questioned how such a small, innocent looking woman was worthy of titles such as 'demon' or 'devil.'

"I don't want anything from you,” she said in a low tone. She didn't necessarily sound rude, but more like she was trying to intimidate me so that I would stop my ploy and leave her alone.

"I could offer some help,” I suggested, taking the seat across from her without permission. No one else in this old bar even dared look at the pink-haired girl, let alone sit near her. But she was no threat to me.

"I don't need your help,” she was quick to respond, still hardly paying me any mind as she took a sip of her whiskey. The honey colored alcohol resembled the thick rays of sunlight shining in through the titled slats in the wooden blinds. The dust made up of sand and smoke seemed to be permanently suspended in the air, making the rays look like bars of pure sunlight that you could just reach out and grab.

"Alright, then I can offer you information," I reworded, fully aware she was a woman who did her own dirty work but still valued any opportunity she could get to have the upper hand against her enemies.

There was a long pause and, after weighing my words, she finally took the chance to look me over.

She cocked an eyebrow, apparently unimpressed. "You aren't from around here, are you?" She told more than asked.

It was obvious she already knew the answer to her own question simply based on how I carried myself, but I had a feeling she was also implying that not many people around here tried to talk to her. They knew better than to bother her.

"You aren't either... or so I've heard," I tried to show her that I wasn't one to scare easily.

"Well then surely you've also heard that I work alone." She sat up straight and raised her glass to her lips before meeting my eyes.

The words almost felt rehearsed, like she had a method to keeping people out.

One side of her lips tilted upwards as she glanced over my features. "And not even a pretty face'll change that." She tilted her head back to take the final swig of whiskey, then slammed the glass down on the table before giving me a wink and getting up to walk out.

Only the image of her receding shadow was visible as she pushed through the saloon doors.

—

In the coming months, the renegade kept her word... for the most part. She was stubborn—which I had quickly gathered after my first encounter with her—and too independent for her own good. She wasn't necessarily reckless, but her solo endeavors often proved far too ambitious. Whether that be pursuing criminals or cowboys or men that just seemed to have too much money and power, she was constantly jumping into situations too dangerous for one woman to handle alone. That's where I came in. She didn't give trust away easily—claiming hers had to be earned—so I gained it by proving my loyalty to her, always coming to her aid when she found herself in trouble.

It took a while for me to get close to her and even longer to finally get her to open up to me. Once she believed my intentions were pure, she slowly unveiled the secrets of the mysterious 'Renegade Runaway,' allowing me to peel back the layers of her heart and eventually get a glimpse at what was inside. Unlike the fables, she was no devil or any other divine being for that matter. It became clear through her vengeful motives that she was purely and entirely human. She was hurting and broken from a painful past—one she would rather forget, yet the same one that drove her actions. In her lifetime she had witnessed the women she loved—friends, sisters, and even her own mother—get cheated, tortured, and murdered by all the powerful men surrounding them.

In her eyes, those that ruled the world were not worthy of it, because all they did was ruin it. She felt it was her duty to strip them of their privileges and bring them suffering as they had done to so many others. As noble an effort it seemed, history tells us that nothing good ever comes from vengeance. Still, she was blinded by the inescapable shadow of loss following her, clung to her figure as a constant reminder, a constant trigger that sent her over the edge.

That's why we found ourselves here now: Bora standing over a man she and I both knew all too well, pistol to his temple with memories of her mother's mangled body underneath his own boot playing on repeat in her mind while I helplessly watched a few steps away. The air grew cold and thick in the abandoned town square we now occupied as the very climax of my mission approached. This was the one murder I had trained my whole life to prevent.

"He doesn't deserve to live,” she seethed in anger. "He murdered my mother and countless other innocents." Her grip on the gun tightened with every word that left her mouth, turning her knuckles white.

"Perhaps you're right,” my voice cut through the brewing storm looming overhead, loud enough to not get lost in the violent gusts of air whipping around our bodies and through the gaps between the buildings surrounding us.

The townsfolk had all run for shelter, frightened either by the imminent threat of catastrophic weather or the violent coup that was now in progress, led by the renegade standing a few feet in front of me.

"But killing him will only make things worse in the long run." I took a tentative step forward, hoping the relationship we had formed over the past month—though still rather unsteady—would be enough to convince her to trust my words.

A flash of lightning struck the horizon, painting the gray sky blue before a boom of thunder punctuated its disappearance.

"How could you possibly know that?" she shouted, now growing impatient.

The wooden and silver weapon shook in her hands, her finger tempting the trigger. Even she didn't understand why she hadn't pulled it yet. It was her master plan, after all. Finally putting an end to all the suffering this man had caused to countless women and their families, including her own. It felt like her only purpose in life. Her destiny. Like it was already written in the stars. So why couldn't she go through with it? And why would she listen to me: a stranger she had met only a month ago? One that seemed to be from another world completely. The kind of person she never thought she'd find herself so attached to. Yet, there she was.

And though she couldn't possibly understand what I meant when I told her I've seen what comes of her actions, she somehow believes. When I said that this one decision will determine the fate of the world, she somehow knows. Because, deep down, she can feel that it has happened before. This exact moment had already played out in some distant reality. One that she had already experienced and would never experience all in the same life. One that always ended in disaster.

But, not this time.

This time, she looks deep into my eyes and finds a sort of empathy and honesty that she has never experienced before. In me, she finds someone who understands the pain and loss she has felt. Beyond that, she finds someone who manages to live with it. To forgive and move on. Someone who stopped trying to end violence with more violence. Someone who has found a better way.

Someone who cares for her.

And it shows her that her life doesn't need to be a constant cycle of death and revenge. That there is hope for a peaceful resolve. And maybe even room for love, not hatred.

The sky cries down in relief as Bora's gun falls with the raindrops, softening the hard dirt ground beneath our feet as they soak into the dying earth. Like the fresh water nourishing the desert floor, the renegade's decision to spare the man gives room for new life to grow and, one day, eventually, to flourish.

Now that a new string has been woven into the fabric of reality, the future is uncertain. This new life might seem daunting to most, but not me. All it promises are new possibilities for a world without hatred, without violence, and without suffering. A world where love and peace are not merely fantasies, but the promised reality.

And it all starts with me and her.

—

A/N: This is an older imagine that I’ve had written, but I hope to start writing new stuff again soon. Also, sorry for not replying to some of the requests/comments you’ve sent me in my inbox. I promise I see them and I will respond to them soon. I just didn’t want to say “I’m working on this” and then take way too long to actually write an update for you.

**This imagine was transferred over from my Wattpad acc OT5Stan4Life**

[hiyaluronic]

*whispers* what if a certain lvl 20 hot!boi failed his wisdom save?

"Yes, well, we must make haste then." Essek stated, clearing his throat to shake free the unease he was feeling. "Ludinus is one thing, but a demon of such design that prays on the fears and self-loathing of individuals is not quite what I had in mind for this excursion, I'm afraid."

"But it's powering the engine and killing people, shouldn't we, y'know do something?"

Ashton sighed and leaned against his hammer, pointedly staring at Imogen. "It's a grand demon that's been here since before fuck all. I doubt it’s going to matter if it stays chained to an engine for another year or fifty."

"Ash is right." Orym started ignoring Ashtons interjected 'Thank You' "Besides, anything that stalls Ludinus, however good or bad at the moment, is unfortunately a help to us right now."

"I... I guess," Imogen sounded conflicted turning from Orym to stare off to the side where Chetney and Dorian had been affected, "but once Ludinus is dealt with we should probably come back and take care of it."

Essek nodded in agreement. "A problem for another day then."

'And such is your nature to always run. Why?'

His hand was halfway to the pocket of his robes when he heard the whisper. Essek closed his eyes with a quiet sigh.

A hand ran gently across his back, delicate fingers tapping against his shoulders before seeming to settle on the gentle curve of his neck. 'Do you not wish to see the fruits of our research? After all, I have you to thank for everything that I have been able to achieve.'

"We should go. Now." Essek stressed and opened his eyes only to see Caleb in the middle of the room, his form taught against the imaginary bonds that held him in place. Essek swallowed hard when he caught sight of the deep purple bruises that shadowed the white of Caleb's neck. Bells Hells was nowhere to be seen.

Shit.

'If it wasn't for this one here...' Ludinus grinned from his periphery, fingers twisting in the air at the same time Caleb buckled, the man forced to his knees with a grunt.

'Such a thorn in my side.'

Caleb choked, blood beginning to trickle from his nose, his lips strained to form soundless words, his bloodshot eyes pleading with Essek.

"This is not real." It was not, it couldn't be, he refused to fall for whatever horrid illusion that had been thrust upon him. Caleb was safe. The man had said as much himself just the day before. "You will not get what you want from me."

'You think this to be an illusion?' Essek winced when he felt the hot breath of Ludinus burn against the shell of his ear. 'Some perfunctory grand play of a fiend wanting to eat up all those tasty little demons that call that anxiety riddled head of yours home?' Ludinus laughed, 'You aren't as important as you seem to think in the grand scheme of things Thelyss. Your life is nothing but misstep after misstep.'

Essek watched while Ludinus stepped from him and moved to stand before Caleb. He tried to ignore the way the vile mans hand traced delicately down Caleb's cheek smearing blood across pale skin before gently caressing Caleb's lips.

He clenched his hands. This wasn't real, no matter how convincing the stage set before him seemed to be; but, if so, then why did his chest hurt and his breath catch?

'Everything you touch eventually tarnishes.''

Essek grinned, "Then it is good that you are something that has had the pleasure of my acquaintance. It means you yourself are doomed to corrode and rust. That is if any of this was real and not just desperate parlor tricks."

Ludinus laughed and turned to meet Essek's gaze, the man's eyes bright even in the dim light of the room. 'You still think this to be fake? Some sort of set dressing? Why do you think your precious human was so desperate for you to get to Aeor with these hooligans?'

Essek clenched his eyes closed, his fingers twitched. Caleb had been hurried in his explanation that he guide Bells Hells through Aeor but nothing had seemed amiss. Caleb had even promised him that he was fine but that he was unfortunately indisposed at the moment; but, like a worm burrowing into a rotting apple, doubt began to slither into Essek's consciousness.

What if Caleb had been sending him a plea for help in his rushed sending? Had he maybe missed something in their nightly talks? Had he been so foolish and lost in the wonders of their relationship that he'd missed some minute detail in the soft words of Caleb's assurances? It wouldn't be the first time he'd made a mess of things.

Caleb screamed and Essek's eyes shot open with a snarl. He swung his hands up and cast gravity fissure; a black mass hurtled forward ten feet to the right of Ludinus cracking the ground and pulling the hanging bodies from their chains. Ludinus gave a yell of surprise as both he and Caleb were pulled towards the center of the fissure.

The air was heavy in the room, pungent and sweet reminiscent of meadow after a rainstorm. "Caleb?" He winced at how loud his voice echoed in the quiet of the room.

Silence returned his call. Maybe he had misjudged the distance? What if he'd hurt Caleb beyond the point of healing? "Caleb!"

He moved quickly, "Caleb, you must answer me!"

He had been just mere feet from the still bodies of Caleb and Ludinus when something grabbed his ankle and pulled. Essek turned hand poised to attack only to falter when a familiar set of eyes looked up to him, the face distorted and bloated in death but still recognizable.

No it couldn't be, "Verin?"

'You left. They came and you had gone. I suffered your fate.'

"No. No you were safe, I made sure-"

Verin grinned, skin stretched taught, bloated and soured. 'A life taken for deeds done. Even if it was not the accused, retribution was sought.' A rattling breath escaped Verin. 'Why do you think you've been safe for all these years? I fell for crimes that were not my own, you killed me. You stole my future from me, brother.'

'You've doomed us all, Schatz.'

Essek turned from his brother to see Caleb, eyes dull, face stained red and kneeling in supplication. "Caleb, I..."

Ludinus, eyes alight with euphoria, slowly stood from the wreckage, his mangled form towering over Caleb's before resting a hand on Caleb's shoulder. 'The war of Ash and Light will be nothing compared to what Predathos will unleash and we all have you to thank.'

He looked at Caleb's tearful eyes and felt his own well in sympathy. "That's not..."

'Fuck, you'e truly made a mess of everything.'

"Beauregard?" Essek whispered confused. Where had she come from?

'You know how to stop this.' Beau grinned and brought her hands up to form a circle with a knowingly smile. 'Boom.'

[crmsnmth]

Bitter Coffee

The diner's coffee is dark and so bitter that it almost bites. The smell of burnt coffee grounds flow up in a steam warning. Don't drink this, it pleads. Go somewhere else. Somewhere better, but please don't drink this. I close my eyes and take a sip. It's hot, it's bitter, it's instant heartburn in a cup. Start the day the acid reflux way with a handful of Tums and a full shot on pink Pepto Bismuth. Sometimes consequences last a life time and you pay for mistakes forever. My stomach is proof of what drugs do to the insides. I am scar tissue and weak spots where the stomach acid is burning through the walls of my stomach. It will split, and it will hurt, but it will happen and when it does, I can only hope that I'm alone. The doctor's will say theirs nothing here to save, and I'll agree from astral projection. I'll sign a DNR the minute you put it in my face. If there's nothing left to live for, when's left to live? I did this to myself, even though I like to blame others, I know, deep down, it was all my choices that lead my to a a body covered in pinprick scars and white train tracks up and down my forearms. Or the circle burn marks, or the stab wounds in my chest, or the spot where the bullet bounce off my kneecap. I take another sip of coffee and forcefully swallow it down. In a few minutes, the caffeine of trucker coffee will hit me. And I will tremor and shake, and lost train of thought, and feel sicker to my stomach. There's an old man sitting at the corner next me., eating the yolks of his over easy eggs with a piece of diner brand burnt wheat toast. I can see the butter already melted onto the break. It drips off and splatters the polished counter top. He eats nosily, the sounds he makes almost sexual. Letting specks of grease and egg and toast take refuge in a salt shaker beard. A tired looking woman serenades the tables with promises of more acidic coffee and pie and meatloaf and pancakes and sausage links. Menus act as hymnals we read from before the sun rises on a Sunday morning. Most of the people are just waking up and I haven't slept in four days, at the far end of yet another bender. My eyes burn from being open too long and I swear that I can see the very shadows move.

Sometimes I hear my name being called, but there's never anyone who actually knows my name. No one cares. Even my own imaginary friend said fuck this and packed their things and they were gone. Nobody, not even the pretend, want to be around someone who does nothing but try to kill themselves by loophole tricks, who bitch's and moans about a girl who doesn't even remember him, who never can see the good in anything he actually has, who is the definition of cynical. I can't blame the friends who loved me to leave. Nobody wants to watch a loved one self-destruct completely, nobody wants to see a man hellbent on slamming into rock bottom, face first, broken neck. Silence. Peace. I take a sit of my coffee and wonder how these coffee mugs keep the liquid hot much longer than the mugs I have stashed back at home. I look at the mug, getting out of my head, because that's a bad place to be when you're coming down and realizing what you've become and it's sick, and it's gross, and it's dirty and I'm a fucking derelict. I have done my laundry in over a month. I want to apologize. I want to yell in everyone's face. I want to die, I want to live, I want to not be afraid. I want to be less paranoid. I want to take care of myself again, but the little baggie with powdery residue says I'm fucking lying. I'm always lying. I am a con artist, and I'm dangerously good at it. Fall in love with me, and if I keep it up, your mine forever. The tired woman fills my coffee mug for the third time. It's bitter taste stays on my tongue. It distracts me. My head hurts, and my stomach hurts and my body aches. I can't remember all that much for the past few days. And that relieves me because I'm not really sure I want to. I don't want to face the shame I should probably feel. The man next to me finished his food. It is quiet again, other than the sounds of the kitchen, the low drone of other's voice. I signal for my check. Four cups of a coffee and an order of white toast. My stomach hurts. It's time to make it home and sleep this off until the next one starts

[all-we-know-is-falling]

El Partido de Fútbol

Mateo had asked Agustín in the morning if he would like to join him at the park later on. Mateo and some of his friends and classmates were going to have a friendly football match. Agustín agreed, although he would only be there to watch and support his friend's team, rather than play.

The sun was just past its highest point, but luckily it wasn't too hot. The two boys met and made their way to the park together; they were always together. The guys who were already there greeted them. Mateo changed into his football boots, and he was already wearing his Argentina national team jersey.

Time was getting on and everyone wanted to start the game already. Raúl spoke up, "Hey, guys. Enrique said he can't make it, something's come up."

A few guys groaned.

"Our team's going to be a man down then!" Luis complained. "One of you stay off, would you?"

"Nah, I'm not going anywhere." Mateo protested. His entire team agreed.

"Oh, come on. Now it's just unfair." Daniel huffed.

Mateo scanned the field for any extra players. His eyes landed on Agustín, who wasn't even paying attention to them, but was completely in his own head, staring at the surrounding trees that moved gently in the breeze.

Mateo whistled at him. "Hey!"

Agustín turned his face to him. "What?" He asked.

"Join their team. They're missing their midfielder." The curly haired boy was totally assuming he even knew what that meant.

"Are you sure?" The other replied.

"Yeah. Come on!"

Mateo heard someone behind him murmur, "We're finished..." and another go, "What does he know?" Luckily, Agustín was too far away to hear them.

He got up and brushed some grass off of his legs. Due to the unexpectedness of this situation, he wasn't wearing very flexible pants, and he didn't have any football boots. At least he had thought to put on his Chile jersey... even if he was the only one.

"Awesome. Thank you dude." Luis stepped towards him. "Alright! Let's start!"

They all got into their positions, Agustín taking Enrique's place on the midfield, and the kickoff began.

As it turns out, those who made the comments behind Mateo were wrong. The imaginary whistle blew and the game was onto a good start. Agustín may not have scored, but he made a really great attempt that was only stopped by Daniel's above-average saving skills. His passes were decent and he was precise with every one he made. He even had an assist, being the key to Luis' goal which held their team in the lead 2-1 for a while. They didn't win in the end, but Agustín's performance was quite shocking, even to Mateo. His tackles and defence were good too, even if he wasn't the absolute best player on either team.

After the game, it was like Agustín had just earned himself some popularity points, because most of the guys came to pat him on the back and compliment his playing. A few more skirmishes went on with fewer players all round as some just wanted to sit around and cool off or chat.

Mateo took a seat on the grass beside Agustín and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Since when have you been into football?" He had to ask.

Agustín smiled to himself and replied, "I've always been a casual follower, but I was way into it for a while when I was younger. That's how I learned how to play."

Mateo grinned, "You were awesome." He then removed his hand. "You really gave me... us... a challenge there."

"Thank you." Agustín averted his eyes and felt a little embarrassed. When he looked back at Mateo, the boy was gazing at him, his eyes creased a bit and his freckled cheeks pulled his lips into a sweet smile. Agustín smiled back, his face suddenly feeling more flushed than before. Then someone appeared behind him, interrupting the moment that felt like it went on way longer than it actually did, and stole Mateo's attention with a conversation about which fast food restaurant had the better Coca-Cola. What a useless question, Agustín thought, although he knew full well that he would be totally down for that discussion if Mateo had brought it up.

[weirdgirl92]

After much nostalgic binge watching, I’ve decided to do my own personal rankings of every classic Powerpuff Girls episode per season (because it sounded fun, and I was bored anyway).

Season 1:

Uh-Oh Dynamo

Mr. Mojo’s Rising

Tough Love

Telephonies

Mommy Fearest

Boogie Frights

The Rowdyruff Boys

Buttercrush

Mime For a Change

Bubblevicious

Just Another Manic Mojo

Cat Man Do

Ice Sore

Octi Evil

Monkey See, Doggy Do

The Bare Facts

Abracadaver

Insect Inside

Major Competition

Impeach Fuzz

Geshundfight

Paste Makes Waste

Fuzzy Logic

Powerpuff Bluff

Season 2:

Something’s a Ms.

The Powerpuff Girls’ Best Rainy Day Adventure Ever

Slumbering With the Enemy

Twisted Sister

Stuck Up, Up, and Away

Beat Your Greens

Speed Demon

Just Desserts

Birthday Bash

Supper Villain

Los Dos Mojos

Mo Job

Collect Her

Too Pooped to Puff

Dream Scheme

Daylight Savings

A Very Special Blossom

Slave the Day

Pet Feud

Imaginary Fiend

Mojo Jonesin’

You Snooze, You Lose

Schoolhouse Rocked

Cover Up

Down n’ Dirty

Cootie Gras

Season 3:

Child Fearing

Criss Cross Crisis

Power Prof.

Equal Fights

Meet the Beat Alls

Ploys R’ Us

Hot Air Buffoon

Three Girls and a Monster

Super Zeroes

Jewel of the Aisle

The Mane Event

Bought and Scold

The Headsucker’s Moxy

Helter Shelter

Power Lunch

Cop Out

Catastrophe

Candy is Dandy

Town and Out

Gettin’ Twiggy With It

Monkey See, Doggy Two

Fallen Arches

Moral Decay

Season 4:

Power-Noia

Knock It Off

Him Diddle Riddle

Not So Awesome Blossom

Forced Kin

Superfriends

Get Back Jojo

Stray Bullet

Members Only

Keen on Keane

Nano of the North

Film Flam

All Chalked Up

Season 5:

Substitute Creature

Silent Treatment

Monstra-City

Save Mojo

Twas the Fight Before Christmas

See Me, Feel Me, Gnomey

Documentary

Burglar Alarmed

Bang For Your Buck

Curses

Boy Toys

Girls Gone Mild

City of Clipsville

Lying Around the House

Bubble Boy

The Boys Are Back in Town

Seed No Evil

Divide and Conquer

Shut the Pup Up

Sweet ‘n’ Sour

Pee Pee Gs

Toast of the Town

Shotgun Wedding

Season 6:

Aspirations

Custody Battle

Makes Zen to Me

The Powerpuff Girls Rule!!!

Mizzen in Action

Oops, I Did It Again

Crazy Mixed Up Puffs

City of Nutsville

I See a Funny Cartoon in Your Future

Simian Says

Coupe D’etat

Mo’ Linguish

Neighbor Hood

Live and Let Dynamo

Roughing It Up

Prime Mates

Nuthin’ Special

Little Miss Interprets

What’s the Big Idea?

Octi-Gone

Night Mayor

A Made Up Story

West in Pieces

That’s Not My Baby

Reeking Havoc

Say Uncle

The City of Frownsville

Sun Scream

Top 10:

Power-Noia

Knock It Off

Uh Oh Dynamo

Something’s a Ms.

Best Rainy Day Adventure Ever

Mr. Mojo’s Rising

Tough Love

Telephonies

Child Fearing

Slumbering With the Enemy

Bottom 10:

Shotgun Wedding

Toast of the Town

Sun Scream

Pee Pee Gs

The City of Frownsville

Moral Decay

Say Uncle

Cootie Gras

Sweet ‘n’ Sour

Reeking Havoc

[pamet-u-glavuuu]

SECOND HALF - 2023 PREDICTIONS

One month vacation on the Mediterranean (mainly Croatia and Greece)

Nikki and Claire will meet somewhere and we will have photo proof

one of the brothers will admit that Noon is very good dog and that he and tessa get along very well

Z magazine cover

TZ will appear at the Beyonce concert

hot TZ pictures from LA

TZ will watch a tennis match together and we will have a lot of pictures

Tom will attend both Challengers and Dune premiere

June 1st Z will post a cute picture for Tom's birthday

September 1st Tom will post a cute picture for Z's birthday

someone will spill juicy tea about TZ

T will announce a new project which is a romcom

Z will star in a horror film

On the press tour, Z will say how much she wants to become a mother

Amanda will spill some tea from tcr set when Z was with them

Tom will post a picture of Z with a cute caption

Tom will appear on one of Claire's ig lives to help her sell stones because her business is failing and Tom is a good salesman so he can save her.

we will finally see the design of Tom's signet ring

8k kissing pics on the beach

Z in London again

Rachel finally cut Tom's hair

Tom and Z announced together Spider-man 4

euphoria and sam levinson cancelled

Tom will spill the tea from 1.0 during the tcr press

we will get TZ in jerseys 2.0 ("Holland" on both jerseys)

we will see other parts of Tom's house

Tom and Z will go on romantic getaway somewhere in LA to celebrate T's birthday

Z will post a story - watching TCR and she will praise him

Tom will again talk about his imaginary daughter

Z will talk about her London life

some random fan will post a throwback picture of them when they were in the caribbean

‼️‼️‼️I made this for entertainment purposes please don't judge me, thank you.‼️‼️‼️

[autisticempathydaemon]

Hey hi hello!!! How are you today?

I was wondering if I could get a match up?

What song are you fixated on at the moment? What lyric or verse, and why?

I can't stop listening to Brand New City by Mitski since last week. I just really like the emotion in her voice. I also really associate myself with the line "if I gave on being pretty I wouldn't know how to be alive". So that's that.

What is your Enneagram type?

7w8, used to be a 9w1.

Do you love gargantuan Youtube video essays, and if so, which is your favorite and why?

I dooo! I really like enjoy video essays about linguistics and mental illnesses as well

Tell me about your childhood imaginary friend.

I never really had an imaginary friend. I mean, I remember being annoyed at my shadow for copying everything I do, but I don't think that counts.

I actually didn't have any friend untill I went to school. I was always okay playing by my self.

Though I do remember making little scenarios in my head while playing on the playground; one of them being me as Harley Quinn trapped in jail while Joker saves me (I was obsessed with Harley Quinn as a kid, okay..)

What is your go-to way to fall asleep?

Rambling asmr.

If you had to change your name, what would it be, and why? (In tandem, if you have changed your name, why did you pick that one?)

I'd like to pick a name that sounds nice in most languages, since mine doesn't.

Maybe something like Eleanora with Nora as a nickname.

What is your favorite of Redacted’s audios, and why?

I can't pick one so I'll say "holiday decorating with your boyfriend but he's a chaotic mess" and "listening in on your crush's thoughts". These are the audios that really made me smile like an idiot. They don't really have anything to do with the plot yet they're still my favourite.

What Redacted boy holds no appeal to you, and why? Like, not the one you hate but the one who you don’t get the hype for. (I won’t judge, I promise.)

Hot take but...David. It's just...idk man, I usually like the tsundere type put sometimes I feel like David is too rude. I enjoyed his first audio but the rest...idk man. I like angel a lot tho. I myself a lot in them, but David is definitely not the type I'd go for. I'd probably feel really annoying and unloved with a guy like him 🤷‍♀️

Tell me about that one book/movie/tv show you know all the words to.

"The spy next door". I watched it waaaaaay too many times as a kid and I sometimes still do.

Which Redacted boy are you platonically attracted to? Like- forget dating, which dude do you want to be your best friend?

Asher!!! He seems like so much fun dude. He also reminds me a lot of my friend.

Do you have a go-to thing you ramble about when you’re tired, and if so, what is it? (For example, my boyfriend knows I’m ready to sleep when I start talking about space.)

I start rambling about 'what if' scenarios. Like what if I was born a year later? What if brother hadn't been born? What if that one time at the cafe I didn't order my usual drink?

Stuff like that.

Tell me your go-to gas station and drink combo.

Idk I can't drive...😔

Chocolate and banana milkshake is my go to drink tho.

Tell me about your favorite playlist at the moment. 

All my saved songs mashed up...

What’s your guilty pleasure media, and why?

Harry Potter fanfiction.... hear me out okay... I know it sounds...bad.. But damnit some of the fics are just too good.

Other info:

Idk if this is important or not but my mbti is ENTP-T and I'm also very short (5'1). Do what you must with that information...

Thank you!!

The combination of your personality traits gives me the impression of an extroverted, strong-willed person; they’re giving Smartass, you know? This combined with your preference towards tsunderes makes me think you’d be a good match with Aaron.

I can get what you mean about David being “too rude”; in contrast, Aaron’s certain brand of tsundere reads more playful? Like, he grasped early on when the attitude isn’t serving him or when to tone it down which is why I like him better for you. Also, the fact that your chosen name would be Eleanora and his brother’s name is Elliott, the fact that both his most loved people in the world could be called “El” is just really cute. That’s kismet a little bit.

Your life with Aaron would be such a dream (though that’s any life with Aaron, I will admit.) I can clearly imagine him making you your favorite milkshake every Saturday morning to start your weekend right (even though I can see him personally hating it /lh something about his vibe tells me he hates chocolate and banana together but not as much as he loves you). I can see him asking you about the fanfic you’re reading- not because he cares about Harry Potter (he doesn’t particularly) but because he likes to hear you talk about it. Also, your not being able to drive is fun because he’s an excellent driver, and don’t we all dream just a little bit of having to be a passenger prince(ss)? /lh

Song:

I just don't wanna miss you tonight/ And I don't want the world to see me/ 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand/ When everything's made to be broken/ I just want you to know who I am

One, that last line is very tsundere-core, that sentiment of “I don’t need the world to know or see me as long as I have you”. Two, this song is such a classic, and it matches the alt, rock, grunge vibe that Aaron gives me. I think he likes this song and genre a lot.

Runner-ups:

In addition to giving me Smartass vibes, your personality types also remind me of a more extroverted Damien; because of this, Huxley would be a cute runner-up for you. To do a total one-eighty, your mention of considering What If’s means I just have to give you Echo as a runner-up okay heaR ME OUT-

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

[preciousbarnes]

Remember Me

Chapter 1: Wiped

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, Bucky is left completely changed from the man you married. A multi-part, on-going series.

Word Count: 1.2k

Tags/Warnings: Injuries, Discussion of Torture, Amnesia, Established Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Eventual Comfort.

You stood in the large hangar next to the ramp up to the quinjet, watching the others walking up and taking their seats, strapping themselves in and talking amongst themselves about the upcoming mission. You didn’t know much about the confidential mission since you were not accompanying them, since you were still recovering from an injury that happened during a training session. However, you could just sense it was a serious one; meaning a dangerous one. The whole team was serious, instead of joking and cutting up like usual. It worried you. While you watched the backs of all your team members, there was certainly one you always looked out for especially. Your husband, Bucky. You hated that you wouldn’t be there, and you knew you would be worried until he returned to you.

A smile graced your face as he walked towards you carrying his go-bag, an old duffle bag. He stopped in front of you, setting the bag down to take you into his arms, kissing you on the lips firmly before pulling back to rest his forehead on yours.

“Be safe. You better come back to me in one piece, Barnes,” You tell him sternly, making him chuckle.

“I will, and I always do, Mrs. Barnes,” His deep voice assures you, quieting your fears temporarily. His promise will quiet the nagging fear in your head for a short time, no doubt destined to return later once you find yourself alone in your apartment without him tonight.

You give him a tight hug before he reaches down to pick up his duffle, giving you a reassuring smile before he jogs up the ramp and into the quinjet, it's engines whirling to life.

You stand at the sidelines, watching as the jet lifts off and hovering for a moment before it flys off to their destination, it carrying your whole world away from you while you just prayed to any god that would listen to bring him back home to you safely.

That night you found yourself curled up on the couch with your favorite book, Alpine purring on your lap, kneading your thighs with her paws ever so gently. Lost in the imaginary world held within the novel in your hands, you and Alpine are startled when your phone suddenly loudly rings from it's place on the coffee table in front of you.

You slide your bookmark in the book to save your spot, picking up your phone, surprised when you see who is calling. It was Bucky.

You answer the phone, pressing it to your ear.

“Hey, honey” you excitedly say, always happy to hear from your husband while he is away.

“Hey, sunshine, it’s Steve,” The captain says, sounding exhausted and every bit his age.

“Steve? Where’s Bucky, why are you calling with his phone?” You ask, confused.

“Listen, you need to get to the compound. We got just back,” He tells you quickly, confusing you even more, and you wondered what the beeping was that you could hear in the background.

“What? I thought Bucky was getting a ride with you? Got a hot date, cap?” You joke, rising to your feet and walking over to grab your shoes.

“Sweetheart, it’s Bucky. He’s hurt. Bad. You need to get here, ASAP. We’re going to send someone to get you, I don’t want you worried and driving,” He tells you.

That’s what the beeping was. Medical equipment. The noise you heard was a heart monitor. You suddenly feel faint, knees buckling as you plop back down on the couch, shoes falling from your hands and hitting the floor.

“S-steve. He’s alive, right?” You ask brokenly, needing to know if you had lost your whole world.

“Yes, he’s alive, but he’s not okay right now. They’re telling me your ride is about two minutes out, they’ll get you here safely,” He assures you.

“Is someone with him right now? I don’t want him alone until I get there,” You tell him, voice breaking.

“Yes, sweetheart, we’re all here with him, and you will be soon,” He assures you, while still clearly worried about his best friend.

You say a quiet ‘okay’, before telling him that you’d be there soon, hanging up. You felt like ice was running through your veins as you put on your shoes quietly. You numbly rose to your feet, walking out to where you heard the sound of a car pulling up for you.

The ride over was fast but quiet, the agent driving using their lights and sirens on the vehicle to speed back to the compound where the team, including your apparently injured husband was. The urgency in their driving scared you even more. He must have been bad. You found yourself fiddling with the ring on your left hand, your wedding ring, as the worst case scenarios played in your head.

Steve was standing outside when you arrived, security lights illuminating his figure in the dark. As you exited the car, he moved to quickly usher you inside. You walked down the main corridor and towards the medical unit quickly, until Steve suddenly and gently grasped your hand, stopping you before you reached the sliding doors into the med bay.

“Sunshine, I need to prepare you, before you see him,” He tells you solemnly.

You drily swallow before nodding, understanding that it would be best for Bucky if you were prepared beforehand. You felt eerily calm, probably from the shock of it all, your brain conveniently told you.

“How bad, Steve?” You ask, not even recognizing your own voice. It sounded dark and gravely to your ears.

“Physically, he looks fine. It’s his mind,” He tells you, trying to gently break the news.

“How bad?” You repeat, making him sigh and look down at his feet before he gets closer to you, locking eyes with you again.

“We were investigating a new underground sect, that we thought may have connections of Hydra. We were right. Bucky and I rushed in. They drugged me with something, we don’t know what it was but it was very effective in knocking me out. They wanted their Winter Soldier back,” He explains.

“Steve, tell me what happened to my husband!” You loudly say, getting looks from some agents who were walking past. You give them a glare, daring them to say something. The quickly avert their eyes and speed walk down the hall.

“They used the Memory Suppressing Machine on him, they attempted wipe him” He tells you, breaking the news that effectively broke your heart.

Would he remember you? Would he even know you? Would the Winter Soldier be back? You opened your mouth to ask these questions, but no sound came out.

“W-what?” was all you could manage to get out, feeling tears come to your eyes.

Seeing your broken expression, Steve hugged you, resting his head on top of yours.

“He’s still unconscious, we don’t know what it wiped yet, if anything at all. Even though he’s out, I knew you’d want to be here. We have the best doctors, including Dr. Banner at the ready. Tony and him are looking through files and studies right now as we speak. We will fix this, sunshine,” He tells you.

You pull back from the friendly embrace, give him a broken smile despite yourself.

“Don’t make promises you aren’t sure you can keep, Cap,” you tell him softly, before walking through the sliding doors in to see your husband, most likely a ghost of the man you had come to know and love.

[bookgeekgrrl]

My media this week (7-13 Apr 2024)

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

🥰 If This Is As Far As We Go (BeauRadley) - 124K, stucky no-powers AU - after a year of being phenomenal hookup buddies, bucky ends their arrangement & throws steve into a tailspin - slow burn, angsty, oblivious steve slowly realizing his true feelings, good supporting cast

😊 Bunt! Striking Out on Financial Aid (Ngozi Ukazu & Mad Rupert) - cute graphic novel about art students forming a softball team to exploit a financial aid loophole

😍 Death in the Spires (KJ Charles, author; Tom Lawrence, narrator) - historical murder mystery set in 1905 Oxford - another KJC absolute banger: incredible sense of place, fantastic characters, perfectly done 'whodunnit' tension and a HIGHLY SATISFACTORY resolution. Loved every word

💖💖 +76K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

The Man, the Myth, the Legend (sparklyslug) - Check Please!: gen, 2.9K - Holster's beatboxing skills brings all the a capella groups to the Haus - a short, fun, funny, outsider POV fic

Say it louder for the people in the back (redhook) - MCU: shrinkyclinks, 14K - reread, forever fave - sometimes you just get a yearning to reread the best glory hole fic ever written

In Focus (sparklyslug) - Check Please!: zimbits, 6K - Jack's photography eye knows what's up before his conscious brain does

Entering Orbit (museaway) - Star Trek AOS: spirk, 30K - good post-AOS canon-divergent fic where Jim goes home to Iowa to escape the press & Spock joins him

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

Hot Ones - Conan O'Brien

QI - series S, ep 13

Game Changer - s6, e5 {Bingoception}

Um, Actually - s9, e4

D20: Fantasy High: Junior Year - "Dawn of Justice" (s21, e14)

D20: Adventuring Party - "We're Running on 200%" (s16, e14)

Death In Paradise - s11, e4-8; s12 e0-8, s13 e0-8

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

Working - How to Be Both a Critic and a Creator

Worlds Beyond Number - WWW #10: Of the Reaching Green

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - Fireside Chat for WWW ep10 "Of the Reaching Green"

Short Wave - How Climate Change And Physics Affect Baseball

Consider This from NPR - Bad Omens Or The Cycle of Nature? How The Ancient World Viewed Eclipses

⭐ Armchair Expert - Anna Kendrick [Rerelease from 1/9/23]

Today, Explained - Is college still worth it?

The Sporkful - Jewish Food Is More Than Matzoh Balls

WikiHole - BEYONCÉ (with Zoë Chao, Nat Faxon and Poppy Liu)

⭐ All Songs Considered - Songs to make you laugh, with 'Weird Al' Yankovic

In Defense of Fandom - Season 2 Episode 2: Putting my theory to the test

Dinner’s on Me - Orville Peck

⭐ Switched on Pop - Chasing old sounds: Djo's "End of Beginning" with Joe Keery

⭐ 99% Invisible #577 - The Society of Ambiance Makers and Elegant Persons

⭐ Vibe Check - A Special Conversation with Ada Limón

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Brown Mountain Lights

Short Wave - The Order Your Siblings Were Born in May Play a Role in Identity and Sexuality

⭐ Code Switch - How Frederick Douglass launched generations of Black and Irish solidarity

⭐ Decoder Ring - Can the “Bookazine” Save Magazines?

⭐ Imaginary Worlds - African Sci-Fi Looks to a Future Climate

Worlds Beyond Number - WWW #11: Promises Promises

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - Fireside Chat for WWW ep11 "Promises Promises"

What Next: TBD - Does Google Suck Now?

Short Wave - What To Know About The New EPA Rule Limiting 'Forever Chemicals' In Tap Water

Code Switch - Reflecting on the legacy of O.J. Simpson

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Atlas Obscura Live: Two Places And A Lie

Dear Prudence - I Lost a Lot of Weight and Now I Enjoy Being a Mean Girl. Help!

It's Been a Minute - The car culture wars; plus, the problem with child stars

Endless Thread - RIP Lil Miquela

Shedunnit - You Probably Imagined It!

Armchair Expert - John Cena

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - [One Shot] A County Affair: Prologue

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

Presenting Bonnie Raitt

Lowrider Oldies

Huge House Anthems

Djo

Classic Soul BBQ

A LA SALA [Khruangbin] {2024}

Presenting Khruangbin

Happy Beats

'80s One-Hit Wonders

Feel-Good Classic Rock

[youre-ackermine]

Hi my love!! <3 <3

For Drunk Drabbles Vol. 2, I give you 23: Is this a date? Of course, give me a LeviHan story!

mwah!!

Hey Sailor my Beautiful Bestest Bestie 🥰❤️

Thank you so much for your request!!! I'm sorry I didn't reply earlier but I'm a [painfully] slow writer!

How was Seoul? You must be exhausted by the past week's work there, so I hope my little drabble will help you relax 😘

Enjoy ❤️❤️❤️

*****

English is not my usual language

*****

This drabble is linked to my previous Levihan drabble Dumbstruck.

Drabble prompt 23 "Is this a date?"

Night Out

Characters: Levi Ackerman / Hange Zoe / Moblit Berner

Wordcount: 1530 approx.

Modern AU / sfw / non-binary Hange / swearwords / mention of alcohol

She had been babbling for twenty minutes now, sipping her cocktail through a straw every once in a while. Not even bothering to reply, he was absentmindedly looking at her glass. It was still half filled with a sugary liquid of a disgusting shade of pink and he wondered how in hell people could ever order such revolting pig piss.

Levi lifted his cup with a sigh, took a sip of hot tea and checked his watch. He should have told her to shut the fuck up, but her incessant chatter distracted him from the tension that gradually built up in his stomach. The queasy feeling had subsided as soon as the young woman sitting down next to him had started a conversation, bringing him some relief.

Slightly annoyed by the high pitched tone of her voice, he shifted on his bar stool and briefly glanced at her. She stopped her tiresome babbling only to drink another sip of her candy cane martini, licking her red lips in an attempt to seduce him before smiling flirtatiously. 

Her purpose was obvious but Levi was startled nonetheless when she dared to put her slender hand on his forearm. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, starting to lift her hand as he leaned over to reach the blonde's ear.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" he whispered in a husky voice.

She pressed her body against his, her smile widening as she cooed: "sure!"

"Good, I was saving that seat for a friend!" he deadpanned, dropping her hand on the counter as he released his grip on her wrist.

The young woman's face twisted in anger and contempt. She grabbed her purse in no time and stormed out of the bar, leaving him both guilty and relieved. The past half-hour had been such a pain in the ass, but no doubt he had crossed a line talking to her like that. What the hell was wrong with him today?

He pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath and checked his watch again. Of course they would be late. How could today be different from any other day? Getting engulfed in their work was Hange's second nature and today was no exception, no matter what his invitation for a drink implied this time.

The knot in his stomach weighed heavily again. His mouth was as dry as a desert and his throat tightened so much he had trouble swallowing some imaginary saliva. The longer he waited, the more nervousness got him and he was muttering an incoherent plea for this torture to end soon when the door bell rang.

A gust of cold wind rushed through the bar as Hange abruptly pushed open the door and stormed into the lively room. Levi rolled his eyes as his friend waved to him, shouting his name over the hubbub, their usual toothy grin plastered on their face. The corners of his lips were starting to lift in a faint smile when he noticed that Hange was holding someone's hand.

Levi froze.

A heavy load seemed to fall in his guts. His lips pressed tight briefly, but quickly he regained composure and his face was soon expressionless as usual.

Fuck! Hange had dragged Moblit with them! Why were they hanging out with their assistant? Working together all day, sometimes all night as well - he gritted his teeth at the thought - wasn't that enough for them?

He crossed his arms over his chest, his silver gaze boring through the poor man as Hange pulled him roughly through the crowded bar.

"Oi Levi! Don't mind Moblit joining us, right?" Hange blurted out cheerfully. 

Moblit faintly nodded to Levi, obviously uncomfortable around him.

Levi turned away from them.

"Bold of you to assume I would say yes to begin with, Four-Eyes!" he replied with irritation. "But now you decided it all on your own, he might as well stay I guess."

"C'mon Shorty! The more the merrier, right? Do you always have to be so dramatic? Just don't make a big deal out of this, will you?" Hange said.

"I told you it's fine, which word did you not understand?"

Hange turned towards Moblit and sneered: "Mr Grumpass over here has the worst case of resting bitch face known to man, but he's a softie deep inside, right Levi?"

Rolling his eyes, he grunted and leaned to the bartender. "Two beers and…" he turned to Moblit. "What do you drink?"

The young man seemed fascinated by the tips of his shoes but mumbled a vague reply, his face blushing under Levi's look. He had been feeling the short man's unwonted hostility since his arrival.

"Two beers and a whisky neat then, please," he ordered.

Levi grabbed the bottles and Moblit his own glass and they sat at the table a group of noisy students just left. Hange took off their worn out coat, randomly threw it on their chair and headed to the bathroom.

Only swallowing sounds filled the awkward silence between both men as they took a sip of their drink. Time seemed to stretch as they waited for Hange to come back.

"You...you seem to be…in a…in a worse mood than usual today, Levi." Moblit found the courage to break the heavy atmosphere, the end of the sentence stumbling out of his mouth in a hurry. "Are you alright?"

Levi averted his gaze. "Nothing unusual, don't worry about that," he replied in a breath.

Moblit's fingers fidgeted over his glass. His eyebrows seemed to knit as he was deep in thought.

"I saw it, you know…" he said after a pause. "When we stepped in earlier."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Levi glanced nervously to the bathroom door every once in a while, his knuckles whitening as he tightened the grip on the beer bottle.

"I noticed that you almost smiled when Hange came in, but your face soured as soon as you saw me."

Moblit paused for a few seconds again, his eyes still dived into his glass.

"So I'm asking you what's wrong today, because I never ever saw you so angry with me!" he finally let out sheepishly.

Levi rubbed his face, ran his hand through his hair and let out a long, weary sigh. Leaning over the table, gesturing to get Moblit to do the same, he finally asked in an infuriated whisper: "the fuck are you doing here? Why didn't Hange come alone?"

Taken aback, Moblit gasped: "they said you planned to have drinks together tonight and they invited me. As a friend."

Anger still filled Levi's low voice.

"Why did you accept? Now you ruined it all, dumbass!"

Moblit choked on a sip of whisky and coughed.

"What do you mean, Levi? How could I refuse? I thought Erwin and Miche would be here as well but I don-"

Moblit stopped and his eyes widened comically as he came to a logical conclusion.

"Holy sh-shit... I'm sorry to ask this but…is this a date?" he squeaked.

As Levi opened his mouth to reply, Hange rushed over to them and, as graceful as a hippo, sank into their chair with a relieved sigh.

"Oi! How are you doing guys? Talking about me?" they said with a dorky grin.

"We were starting to worry, Four-Eyes!" Levi scoffed. "Man, how long of a shit were you taking anyway?"

Hange burst out laughing: "oh, long enough to get the job done, thank you for asking!"

Moblit had been stunned for years by their constant, almost always disgusting bickering, mostly based on poop jokes and mean nicknames. But today he couldn't believe this banter may have become a sick way of flirting, at least from Levi's part.

Fucking weirdos.

He finished his drink in one gulp and put his glass on the table a little too heavily. The young man suddenly cleared his throat, interrupting the stream of gross jesting flowing between the two, drawing Levi's irked attention to him.

Hange's boisterous laughter faded away as they also turned to look at him. 

"I…I have to…to go now," he uttered sheepishly.

As he got up, pushing back his chair with an unpleasant screeching, Hange grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Where do you think you're going?" they asked. "Don't leave me alone with Shortstack over here, he's literally pouring his shit-talking down on me!" They winked and grinned as Levi rolled his eyes.

Hange looked up at him with their legendary pleading puppy eyes."Stay with us Moblit, we only just got started! It'll be so much fun! Please, please, please, please!!!"

Moblit briefly glanced at Levi and a shiver of dread instantly ran down his spine as he met his sharp grey look.

"I'm…I'm…s-sorry, Hange, I…I really have to…to go now." A pearl of cold sweat made its way down his face. 

"I'm…I'm supposed to see…er… Nifa later and I…I need to take a shower first! Have fun and...and…well, see you tomorrow at the lab Hange!"

Before his friend tried to stop him from leaving again, he hurried out of the bar as Levi watched him go, a smug smirk on his face.

Hange was right: they had just got started.

*****

Thank you so much to my Darling Terra @dont-f-with-moogles for beta/proof reading 😘

[shady-scripter]

IDEA/HEADCANON FOR YOU MY LOVELY SHADE!!

What if Time’s child grew up with an…‘imaginary friend.’ A friend who took the form of a huge white wolf with eyes as milky as the moon’s surface and strangely familiar red and blue markings.

Time didn’t know why his infant would be giggling in their crib, arms out stretched to the cloud filled sky, as if playing with the rays of moonlight filtered through the dark clouds. He, being the paranoid man he was, got unsettled by this and was quick to add shutters to the window that hung over his child’s crib in hopes…in hopes his child wouldnt be playing with the moon?

Malon gently teased him for his protectiveness, reassuring him that it was normal for children to come up with imaginary friends to play with.

And while that did calm Time’s restless mind for awhile, he soon began to question how and why an infant was making such concepts. Imaginary friends were made out of loneliness or boredom, but his child wasn’t even old enough to walk yet!

—

But as his child grew and grew and their…nightly habit of giggling with the moon didn’t go away, Time was positive something had taken an interest in his child. The idea made his blood run hot and cold at the same time, causing a shiver to run down his spine.

As Time works out to find what dared to latch onto his child, that ‘imaginary wolf’ sits with the hero’s child and keeps them save.

Just because his physical form was stuck within that mask did not mean the deity couldn’t extend his aura. And how couldn’t he at the cries of a newborn, at the joyful tears of his wielder, at the sounds of a family he never had.

The wolf watches the hero pace back and forth, tome in hand with tiny reading glasses resting again his strong nose. He knows his wielder will find out eventually. The deity can only hope he’ll be understanding.

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH😭😭😭

my addition is beneath the cut

So like, what are the dreams like😭😭😭

Because I’m imagining Time’s kid riding on the back of Fierce’s wolf like a cowboy-

The image is actually amazing🥰🥰🥰

NO BECAUSE-

I’m going to name the kid Elias because saying “the kid” over and over again suck(it also might become my preferred name soon but I didn’t say that)

Let’s say that Elias goes into depth about those dreams when they are a teenager. Like full detail

And Time is sitting there, listening, like 🤨

And so Elias is like, “Well, we like going on adventures. He said that those adventures were actually his memories, which I think is cool…I did get to fight gods in the moon once”

And so Time freezes and is like 😤🙂 and like trying to keep his cool, but he is flipping the fuck out

And Time ends the conversation with, “Let me know if you two go on any more…adventures, yeah?”

Then Elias continues on with their life. They keep having the dreams and Time learns, through Elias’s descriptions of the dreams, the Fierce is holding the team on his shoulders because Elias is just watching Fierce fight the whole time.

Cut to the inevitable “I wanna be a knight when I grow up” and so, Time decides that he’d train his child swordsmanship.

He isn’t really surprised when he finds that Elias appears to be fairly trained enough to judo flip his own father.

Time lost the sparring match and swears that it’s because he’s old.

[orangezest100]

Uh.... I wrote fanfic? When was the last time I did that, don't look.

@sleepywinchesters

Pain—as Sam understands it—will always be hot.  In some ways, it’s a form of friction, and the heat is required for the injury to form. In others, it’s like the wound and the body become aware of its own temperature, leaving almost a sensation of fire. Cold wounds—if they exist—mean that you’re dying.

The vampire's hand in his chest is nothing but cold.

He falls to his knees, hands curled around his torso as if to keep the blood inside. Dean is on the other side of the complex and he won’t make it in time. He’s not even sure Cas can. The vampire is laughing, giving some kind of speech, but Sam can’t hear him.  He can barely see the guy as his vision swims.  

I had just… hoped for more.

But his vision doesn’t go dark. As he closes his eyes there’s a soft light, and he swears he can feel a hand on his shoulder. He opens his eyes and there’s a figure there, between him and the vampire, and the vampire looks… Sam can’t quite make out his face, but his body language isn’t confident. The figure raises a hand to the vampire's temple, sending it to ash when they make contact.  The figure turns to cup Sam’s face, thumbs stroking along his cheeks as a warmth slowly suffuses him.

“I almost lost you Sam,” he whispers. “What is it that our brothers’ say; about being careful?” The figure lets go and Sam leans forward, trying to find the warmth of the hands. In the next few moment, the figure is gone, and Sam passes out.

***

“I told you Dean, I’m fine.”  

“Bullshit. You told me that a vampire basically killed you and that you were barely alive, and some mysterious guy just saved your life. And then you wake up?”

Sam looks up from packing his bag, eyes headed to Dean as he leans against the wall, arms crossed, looking all kinds of concerned and pissed off. “Yeah, I am. But I honestly feel better than ever. And Cas says I’m fine, so it’s no demon or archangel, okay? Whatever it was, we got lucky.”

Dean snorts, finally pushing off the wall to pack. “Yeah, whatever. Can’t believe it didn’t even say anything to you, whatever the thing was.”

***

Sam’s dream takes him to a library, one with multiple walls and walnut finished, a mix of artificial and candle lighting. It feels like a wish, or like what the Beauty & The Beast library should have looked like. He smiles, walking slowly among the shelves, picking books off the shelves at random to flip through them. He pays no mind to his surroundings; he knows intrinsically that he’s safe here. That he will always be safe here.

“Hello Sam.” Sam looks up quickly and to the left, staring at the man who leans against the bookcases with ease. He looks the same as before: blonde hair, piercing eyes, t-shirt, jeans. Sam recognizes his aura instantly, like a lost imaginary friend from your childhood. “You healed well.”

“Lucifer.” He can’t make himself say the name with malice. There’s an understanding that is flowing between them now, unspoken. It’s like a dam has been cracked on both sides and water is leaking through, but there’s no pressure leading to imminent explosion, no terrified dam workers, just water.  Flowing between him and Lucifer in a constant stream he never wishes to stop.

Lucifer steps forward, slow and careful, until he can take Sam’s chin gently in his fingers. “I was worried, you know. I’ve waited for you, for so long, and I almost lost you to something so simple. Earth is funny like that.”

Sam almost melts into his hand. He should back away, should be furious, but he can’t. He can feel what Lucifer was talking about now. Meant for each other. Connected. “Funny isn’t the word I would use to describe it.”

Lucifer laughs quietly, tilting Sam’s face down to look at him. He catches Sam’s gaze, holding off for a moment before he puts a hand over Sam’s heart. “So how would you describe it?”

Sam grabs Lucifer’s hips to smash their bodies together as their lips meet, the kiss long and deep and sweet as their bodies slowly grind together. Sam pulls away, panting even in this dream as he looks at him.

“Interesting,” Lucifer mutters, eyes half-lidded. “I would love to have more discussion on the matter.” They’re lips crash together again, and Sam smiles.