#and then just throwing shit at the fucking wall

[misctf]

For the Team: A Real Man

“I’m not going to stand here and let you belittle the team.” Brett slammed his locker shut and turned to face his coach, “We’re trying out best.” The locker room fell silent. No one talked back to coach.

Coach Andrews glared at Brett, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in anger. “You think you know better than me, boy?” he growled, his deep voice echoing off the locker room walls. “I've been coaching football for decades, and you're just some punk kid who thinks he knows it all.”

“With all due respect, Coach, your behavior towards us is unacceptable.” he replies firmly, trying to keep his voice steady. “We're here to improve our skills, not be belittled and humiliated.”

The other players watched in silence, unsure how their coach would react to their star quarterback’s bold challenge. Coach Andrews' face turned an alarming shade of red, and he took a menacing step closer to Brett.

“You think you're so special, huh?” Coach Andrews sneered, his hot breath washing over Brett's face. “Brett, you don't understand a damn thing.” He chuckled, “Throwing a ball well doesn’t make you a leader.”

“I'm just telling it like it is.” Brett snapped back, “Why would we want to dedicate ourselves to this team if you’re treating us like shit during a regular practice?”

The other men remained quiet. No one knew what to say, but they watched closely. Brett was always their leader. Sticking up for them. And while they mostly agreed with him, they weren't about to face coach's wrath.

“You wouldn't know true leadership, dedication, or what it means to be a man if it bit you in the ass.” Coach Andrews replied, crossing his large, hairy arms, “Let me show you, boy. Let me show everyone here.” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. With a swift motion, he reached out and grasped Brett's chin, forcing the younger man to meet his gaze.

Brett tried to pull away, but the coach's grip was unyielding. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt the coarse hairs on Coach Andrews' palm brush against his smooth skin, “First and foremost, these arms. You think these toned, well-groomed arms make you a man?”

As he spoke, Coach Andrews' hands began to glow with an eerie light. And he dug his hands into Brett's impressive arms. Brett gasped as he felt the coach's fingers making contact with his skin. Brett's eyes widened in shock as he felt the coach's glowing fingers sink into his muscles. A tingling sensation spread through his arms as they began to shift and contort. The definition in his biceps softened, the veins disappearing beneath a layer of new flesh. His forearms thickened, growing hairier as dark brown locks sprouted from his skin.

“Wha...what's happening?” Brett managed to choke out, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and disbelief. He tried to move his transforming arms, but they felt heavy, cumbersome. Bulking with both muscle and fat. The skin becoming tanned and weathered with age, “Coach, what the fuck are you doing to me?”

“Real men have substance, not just flash.” Brett gasped as coarse, dark hairs sprouted from his shoulders and traveled down his back.

As the coach's hands moved over Brett's chest, the young athlete felt his pecs begin to expand and contort. The lean, defined muscle mass that had once been there gave way to a softer, more rounded contour, reminiscent of Coach Andrews' own mature physique. Darker, coarser hair erupted across the changing skin, until Brett's chest was covered in a thick mat of brown fuzz, mirroring the coach's own hirsute appearance.

“What...” Brett whimpered, horror dawning in his eyes as his previously firm pecs sagged, “I...” He looked at his teammates- his friends. All just stared wide eyed, unsure what to do, “Please! Stop...”

“Keep quiet and take it like a man.” Coach Andrews commanded gruffly, squeezing Brett's newly enlarged, hairy pecs, “Maybe then you'll understand the importance of discipline and hard work, right boy?”

“I’m no boy! I’m a fuckin’ man!” Brett's eyes widened at his sudden outburst, while Coach Andrews just grinned, “No, why did I...?” Brett tried to understand where that outburst came from.

Coach Andrews leaned in close, his breath hot against Brett's ear as he whispered, “Because deep down, you crave the power and control that comes with being an alpha male. Your body is responding to its primal urges, even if your mind resists.”

As he spoke, Coach Andrews' hands continued their work, sliding down Brett's torso to grasp his hips. Brett felt a strange heat emanating from the coach's palms, seeping into his skin. His mouth opened in a silent scream as his abs started to shift.

Coach Andrews grinned, seeming to relish Brett's distress. “That's it, boy. Let it happen.” he purred, his hands sliding across Brett’s firm torso, “Feel the power surging through you. It's what separates the men from the boys.” Wiry hairs sprouted from Brett’s abdomen as coach’s hands made their way down. Each strand growing thicker and curlier.

“No...no, please!”

The young athlete tensed, expecting another painful alteration, but instead felt his stomach muscles relax and soften. The six-pack that had once been so prominent began to fade, replaced by a rounder, flabbier midsection. Still, Brett could appreciate the muscle behind the soft, hairy flesh. Brett's face contorted in anguish as he watched his own body take on a different form. 

“Don’t you want to be a real man?” Coach Andrews goaded, “Like me?” He emphasized.

Brett's gaze dropped to his reflection, his heart pounding in his ears as he took in the sight of himself. Gone were the chiseled features and athletic build he'd once possessed. In their place was a heavier, more imposing figure, with a rounded belly and broad, muscular shoulders. Thick, dark hair now covered every inch of exposed skin, from his chest to his arms to his back.

“I...I look like you.” Brett whispered, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and awe. He couldn't deny the raw power radiating from his new form, the sense of strength and dominance that seemed to pulse through his very being.

Coach Andrews nodded approvingly, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “See? This is what it means to be a real man. Not some hairless pretty boy. You’re learning what it means to be a real man. To be me.” Coach Andrews replied, admiring his work so far.

With a firm squeeze, Coach's fingers made contact with Brett's pert ass. The skin rippled and shifted, the muscle mass shifting as it grew and filled with fat. The lean, chiseled curves of his rear gave way to a broader, heavier set of cheeks, now covered in a thick, wiry mat of dark hair. The muscles softened, turning to pliant flesh that jiggled slightly with each movement. Brett winced as the process extended to his thighs, the lean, toned flesh giving way to a heavier, more bulked-out build, marred by jiggly fat.

“But I don’t want to be like you!” The transforming quarterback insisted, shifting uncomfortably as a forest of dense hairs sprouted from his new legs, “It's too much...I can't...” 

Yet, even as he spoke, he found himself admiring the new contours of his body in the mirror. The heavy, hair-covered muscles seemed to throb with power, drawing his gaze like a magnet. Coach Andrews noticed the change in Brett's demeanor and smirked knowingly. 

“You're starting to come around, aren't you boy? Admitting that maybe I know what I'm talking about after all?”

Brett swallowed hard, his mind reeling as he struggled to reconcile his conflicting desires. Part of him still longed for his old, lean physique, but another part - a darker, more primal part - reveled in the sheer masculinity of his new form. 

“N-no, I don't...I mean, yes, I guess.”

Coach Andrews simply smirked as he ran his hands through Brett’s hair, “That's it, boy. Embrace your new reality. You're no longer just a pretty face and a strong arm. You're a force to be reckoned with.”  

As the coach's glowing fingers massaged the quarterback’s scalp, his proud locks began to fall away. Brett could only watch as his styled hair fell in front of his face. Each lock making their way to the locker room floor. Finally, coach let go and Brett shivered at the cool sensation of the air on his bald head.

“N-no, I won't...” Brett protested weakly, but his voice lacked conviction, “This isn't me. I'm not...I can't be...”

But Coach Andrews shook his head and brushed his glowing hand against Brett's cheeks. Immediately, the youthful contours began to blur and shift. His angular jawline softened, rounding into a squarer, more weathered shape. All of which was quickly covered in a beautifully thick, manly beard. His high cheekbones receded slightly, and his nose lost its sharpness, taking on a more bulbous, fleshy appearance. Even his eyes seemed to alter, losing their bright, eager sparkle in favor of a duller, more world-weary gaze.

“All done.” Coach Andrews grinned, “You’re perfect. A true man.”

Brett stared at his reflection, his eyes turning to Coach Andrews. And in that moment, he realized- they were the same, down to the last strand of hair on their chest. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. His own resistance was crumbling, swept away by an unfamiliar surge of masculine pride and dominance.

"Brett!" One of his teammates called out, "Don't...!"

"Shut it, Johnson!" Brett growled, his voice low and gravelly- the same as Coach Andrews'. His former friend took a step back, clearly intimidated by the transformation in their usually affable leader.

Inside, however, Brett was reeling. How could he have spoken to his friend like that? He'd always prided himself on his kind heart and good judgment. Now, well now...

Coach Andrews placed a meaty hand on Brett's shoulder, “Now you're learning, son. Don't let weakness cloud your judgement. A real man stands tall and asserts his authority without apology.”

Brett nodded slowly, his expression hardening into a mask of stoic determination. He could feel the change coursing through him, reshaping his very essence.  

“I needed a little help coaching you pathetic excuses.” Coach Andrews says turning to his team, “And who better to assist me than me? Right, Coach Andrews?” He says, looking over at Brett.

Brett stared blankly at his reflection, his mind struggling to comprehend the enormity of the transformation. The man staring back at him was no longer the person he once was - not even remotely. Every fiber of his being had been rewoven into the image of Coach Andrews, right down to his thoughts and desires.

“I am Coach Andrews.” he muttered, the words feeling foreign yet comforting, “My team needs discipline. I'll whip them into shape, no matter the cost.” He turned to face his stunned teammates, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a chill down their spines, “Listen up, boys. From now on, I expect nothing less than perfection on the field. Any slacking off will be met with severe consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

Brett's teammates cowered under his intense glare, nodding quickly in fearful agreement, “Yes, Bre... er, Coach Andrews” one of them stuttered.

Brett/Coach Andrews sneered at their subservience, his chest puffing out with pride, “Good. Now get out of my sight and report to the practice field immediately. We have a lot of work to do to turn you into the champions I know you can be.”

Both coaches watched as their team scrambled to obey the orders, a twisted sense of satisfaction filling them. Coach Andrews could only grin at the sight of the new coach- his twin- a specimen of true masculinity. And without another word, together, the two Coach Andrews stepped out onto the practice field, ready to unleash their unique brand of discipline upon their team.

[vyliez]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 was it casual?

pt 2. to : why'd you only call me when you're high

pairings: se-mi x fem!reader

synopsis: fucking that shit attitude of hers out because what the fuck?

warnings: smut, sub!se-mi, fingering, pwp(?), pathetic!se-mi, squirting, edging. lmk more lolz

a/n: lord knows we need a sub se-mi in our life once in a while because whimpering and whining se-mi will make my phone switch from my right hand to my left :P also i'm shit at endings but wtv at least there's sub se-mi and i'm fine

the morning after, you decided to ask her when her head's clear. "se-mi?" you hummed as you watched her fumble into her clothes, your chin resting on your palm.

"yeah?" se-mi replies, looking down at you, all sprawled in bed, looking disheveled. she swallows her dry throat, trying to keep her thoughts pg-13 as she buckles the belt of her pants.

"about last night..." you started. you could see her pause before continuing on her ministrations. so she had noticed. good. or bad? you waited for her reply in silence as she tried to not meet your eye.

"it was nothing," she finally replied after a moment, looking dead into your eye, her face unreadable. "i was high,"

that made you scoff to yourself. "of course it was," you mumbled, your gaze fleeting downwards as you fiddle with the loose threads of your blankets. it always was nothing.

"hey," she says firmly, placing two fingers under your chin, making you look at her and meet her gaze. your eyes subconsciously wandered all over her face, as if it were memorizing every single eyelash and freckle for your suffering later in the dark. you swallowed hard, you watched how her piercings glinted against the open sunlight. fuck— why does she have to be so hot all the fucking time? it made you wonder what it'd be like to share something more than fucking with her.

"it was a mutual agreement between us," her voice snapped you out of your daze. "no feelings involved."

that made you swallow the lump in your throat, your heart sinking lower and lower deep into the trenches of your sorrow as se-mi lets go of you, pressing a kiss on your forehead as a farewell. "i'll see you when i see you, yeah?" she says, taking her jacket and opened the door to your room. "and remember, this thing between us is just casual," she says casually before closing the door behind her.

nothing was casual about it when you had her helpless on her own couch, squirming and crying as she begged and pleaded while your hands expertly circled her clit.

"b-baby... please, i'm sorry," she begged, sobbing as you denied her for the nth time that night. her hand tried to snake up your hips but you swatted it away. "no," you said firmly, which emitted a whimper from her pretty lips.

se-mi didn't know what she was apologizing for. all she knew that this was somehow a sort of punishment she did a while back. she whined softly, bucking her hips up to your hand for more friction after you ghosted your fingers over her clit. however, she shriveled when she saw your glare, her lips forming into a small pout, akin to a child that had been scolded by their parent.

her mind raced, trying to find the reason for this 'punishment'. surely it was nothing serious right? she traced the day's events in her mind. you messaging her you'd be around tonight, work, lunch, work, had some breakfast at this new diner—oh. her realization hit her like a ton of bricks, at the same time, you inserted two fingers easily through her tight walls, which made her moan loudly, her hand latching onto your arm, throwing her head back and rolling her eyes in pleasure.

"ah- ah- ah," you tutted as you removed your fingers from inside her and swatted her hand away from your arm. "no touching unless you don't want to cum, do you understand?"

se-mi whined, her lower lip trembling, mumbling incoherent apologies. "princess— sweetheart... p-please... please, i'll be a good girl— i'll treat you better than before," she panted heavily, another set of tears forming in her eyes, ready to fall again. her begging fell deaf into your ears, however as you pinched her clit harshly. "do you understand?" you asked firmly, staring deep into her eyes.

se-mi yelped, tears down her cheeks. she nodded fervently, desperately grinding her hips down your hand. "words, darling," you cooed as you captured her lips with her, your tongue slid out to fiddle with the piercing on her lip, the metallic taste mixing with her usual taste of cigarettes in your mouth. you pulled away, making her whine and push forward to chase your lips. "words, se-mi. i want to hear words from you," you say, pressing a finger on her lips.

"please," her lower lip trembled, her eyes wide as begged. "i understand, just please..." she whispered.

"mmhm?" you hummed, capturing her lips again, sloppily kissing her as the lewd sounds of your fingers pushing in and out of her wet cunt filled the room. "fuck, you're like a waterfall at how wet you are right now," you gasped against her lips as you watched her wetness stain the couch below her.

"babe— princess— please..." she whined, rolling her eyes backward. "shhh, don't worry darling," you cooed running a hand through her damp hair, thrusting your fingers faster as you watched her build up her orgasm.

"i'm gonna— please—" se-mi pants loudly, gripping the blankets beneath her tightly as she lifted her hips, screaming your name.

"fuck, baby, that was so hot," you murmured amusedly as you watched her squirting.

"you think you can do that one more time?" you mumbled in her ear after she came down her high, running a hand through her hair lovingly.

safe to say after that, her attitude towards you had somehow changed. she'd stay with you in the mornings, make you breakfast, pick you up after work, and makes the best aftercare baths for you. she even asked you out on a proper date! all because you fucked that attitude out of her.

[thehypnone]

How about Swissalps the first time Mountain barges into Swiss's dressing room on tour unannounced?

“Five to showtime!” somebody yells on the other side of the corridor, making Mountain swear under his breath. He’s a ghoul who likes order, which is an unfortunate quality considering the default chaos of his pack.

He’s got nearly everyone lined up and waiting for their que to go on stage—nearly, because the new multi ghoul is nowhere to be seen. Mountain could’ve known, but that does not alleviate his uneasiness in the slightest.

He rolls his eyes and storms down towards the dressing rooms, intending to quite literally drag Swiss out of his, no matter the state he’s in.

Mountain does make sure twice that he’s standing in front of the correct door before barging in unannounced. He lets out a sigh of disappointment at what he encounters inside.

“What on earth are you doing?” he asks. “We need to be on stage in less than five minutes.”

“I’m–uh,” Swiss grunts from his spot against the vanity, his hand flying up and down his cock at a pace that doesn’t look comfortable in the slightest, “stress jerking.”

“What?” Mountain scoffs.

“You know like–people obsessively bake when they’re stressed? Stress baking?”

“Yes, but–”

“Yeah and I am stress–fuck–jerking,” the multi ghoul explains, chuckling nervously. A quiet moan breaks its way out through his teeth before frustration creases his brows, “but I can’t get there.”

Mountain hums in acknowledgement, considering. He understands—he’s been where Swiss is. He looks properly distressed and he’s at a point where he can’t just tuck himself back into his pants and go on stage like nothing happened, so… “Do you need a hand?”

The multi ghoul freezes and the jaw that he’s been clenching drops.

“Yes, I want to help,” Mountain confirms casually, as if it’s nothing unusual. That’s because it is—not among a pack of ghouls—but Swiss is new and it shows. “We don’t have much time. Do you want me to help?”

“Y–you want…like, uhm–hand…huh?” he sputters, squeezing the base of his cock. He could not lie and say he doesn’t find Mountain painfully attractive and that the earth ghoul hasn’t been a character frequently appearing in his fantasies.

The multi ghoul nods; somewhat embarrassed, but desperate. Mountain crosses the room in two strides and wraps his hand around Swiss’ cock with not much preamble.

“Shit, that’s good,” he groans, gripping the edge of the counter he’s leaning against.

“Hm,” Mountain hums and gets to work; there really is no time to be wasted. He notes Swiss isn’t even fully hard, but he thinks he knows exactly what’s gonna do it. The earth ghoul rumbles low in his chest and rests his free hand on the wall, leaning in to crowd Swiss in.

And indeed, his cock kicks and fills out some more in Mountain’s grip.

He keeps staring down at him through the eye holes of his chrome mask, forcing the flustered multi ghoul to keep eye contact. Swiss does not want to admit how fast it gets him close.

“Oh, oh, FUUUCK,” the multi ghoul moans wantonly when Mountain pushes him over the edge. He throws his head back against the mirror of the vanity and spills all over the other’s hand, panting. “Lord have mercy…”

Mountain can’t help but smirk as he pulls away and heads towards the dressing room’s sink. “Now get dressed and let’s go do our jobs.”

“Thanks…” Swiss mumbles, shame washing over him again.

“Don’t mention it,” the earth ghoul shrugs, “but next time do tell me earlier if you’re stressed. I can do way better with more time.”

[slightly-knot-insane]

Idea for fic: where the reader is on the bed teasing the monster that they tied to the wall with a rope or chain and is some how holding the chain (kinda like a pulley system) and accidentally lets go of the chain and the monster pounces on them ;)

a/n: Hehehe, I love this! :3 Thank you for the ask!

Hung-Over

[ m!monster x fem!reader ]

content: grinding

You wait for him to wake up, your arms crossed, a pout on your mouth. You tug the rope around his legs, trying to wake him up faster - you were becoming irritatingly impatient.

With a long yawn followed by a grunt, he opens one eye. "Oh shit... Everything hurts." He notices you and immediately wakes up, his eyes dilating in panic. "I'm... in trouble?"

"You got drunk again!" you snap. "You got drunk again, forgot your phone at a pub, and barged in through the door like a rhino!"

"I broke our door again?"

"No, luckily you were able to use the lock, but you slammed the door so hard, I think the wall next to it cracked."

"I'm so sorry, love, I—" He frowns and wriggles his arms and legs. Or better said - tries to. "Why are my wrists and ankles tied?"

"I told you I'll punish you if you scare me like that again. Now you're hungover, tied and will watch Pawn Stars all morning."

"NO!" He roars, anguish written all over his face. "You know how much I hate those cheapskates! Ow... my head..."

You turn on the TV sit in the armchair next to your bed and grab a huge bowl of popcorn you already prepared. You enjoy the grunts and annoyed comments your boyfriend throws at the TV.

After one episode finishes, you look at your prisoner and see him straining to grab the end of one of the ropes, probably intending to either pull it or just chew it off. "Hey!" You jump on the bed and smack his hand away. You stand above him, legs spread and arms akimbo. "You could just apologize and admit you fucked up."

He eyes you from your ankles to your lips. "Didn't I?"

"You can be a real prick sometimes, you know that?"

He sighs. "I know and I am sorry. But I always forget my stuff when I'm drunk." You take the rope and pull it, quartering your boyfriend a little bit more. "Ouch!"

"Ask some of your friends to watch it for you before you get completely pissed. Seriously. I was so worried."

He looks at you, puppy eyes mode on. "Really? You love me that much?"

You click your tongue and pull the rope again, the elaborate pulley system you prepared while your boyfriend was passed out on your bed doing what it's supposed to. He grunts and... laughs? You look down and roll your eyes. A big lump is formed under his boxers. "You really are a freak."

"You know it, babe," he smirks and his tail (that sneakily coiled around your ankle while you weren't paying attention) lifts your leg up. With a yelp you fall on the bed and let go of the rope. A perfect opportunity for him. He simply sits up and, with a yank, pulls one of the ropes out of the pulleys. While you wrestle with his strong tail pinning you into the mattress, he frees his legs and lays on top of you. His wrists remain tied together but that doesn't bother him - he pulls your arms above your head and places himself between your legs. "Aaah, finally. Where I'm supposed to be."

His bulge presses against your groin and you can't escape getting hot under his warm weight. "You asshole..."

He keeps moving his hips up and down, grinding his hardness against your soft folds. He kisses you, moaning even before you do. You push yourself up, to feel him more. He spreads your legs further with every futile push. You feel his cock prodding against your entrance but your clothes are holding it captured. The desperate rolls of your boyfriends pelvis indicate he just might be close... And you are as well. You pant, lick your dry lips wanting to taste his delicious cock and ride it to your orgasm. But all you can do is angrily rub against him, sliding up and down his bent shaft. It becomes almost unbearable and painful, but pleasure building up soothes every burning nerve. You climax grinding against his stomach. He laughs, triumphantly letting you go and getting his cock out. Through his tied hands he blows his load onto you, staining your PJs and hair. But all you can do is laugh with him.

He kisses your sweaty forehead. "I'm sorry for making you worried. I promise I won't let this happen again. If..."

You raise your eyebrow. "If?"

"If we don't dismantle this wonderful pulley system you came up with. I'm sure it will come in very useful in the future."

[slut4christopherr]

—GHOSTFACE— 👻

MATTHEW STURNIOLO

pics by : @sturnlsstuff

warnings: unprotected p in v(don’t do this!!!), riding, cumming, aftercare, smuttt, pussy eating

(if i missed any please lmk!!)

summary: matt sneaks into your room at night, wearing a ghost face costume from the horror/gore movie ‘scream’

what happens will make you wet.

a/n: ive only just started writing, so anything i need to improve please lmk and also comment if you wanna be added onto my taglist! i’m tagging my moots atm 😞 i hope you guys enjoy! this is a 1 part story‼️

you talking = white

matt talking = blue

as i finish the food i just made, i place my plate into the dishwasher and close the door, the audio from the tiktok i’d left playing.

“so you got a boyfriend?”

“why? you wanna ask me out on a date”

“maybe? so, do you have a boyfriend?”

i pick the phone back up, seeing matt sturniolo, the guy who adores eating my pussy, getting edited with clips of ghost face.

i couldn’t lie, it did turn me on.

i clicked the repost button and set my phone down on the couch.

i walked into my bedroom. swearing id shut the door as it was open a little bit but i’d must of imagine shutting it

i turn on the LED’s that wrap around my walls, to a red colour

as i’m about to get in bed, i scream as i feel a pair of cold, large hands wrap around my waist

“shh ma, don’t need t’be screamin’ jus’ yet”

i recognised the voice almost immediately

“matt. i told you to stop sneaking into my fucking house!”

matt chuckles as i turn around, he holds a voice changer upto his mouth through the mask, speaking into it, his voice came out all static and raspy

“and i said i don’t care, ma, so whatcha gon’ do? hm”

the way his voice came out from that stupid little box made my legs feel weaker and weaker every word he said

“and also, why the fuck you wearin’ that? take it off.”

he points at my t-shirt, his hands grip my shoulders ever so slightly and move me back toward my mattress, i flip down onto my back as he grips the hem of the t-shirt and rips it over my head.

i go to grab his mask and pull it up and over his head and throw it across the room, the black cape over him and his jawline, making him look so good in the dim red lighting of my LED’s

his eyes darken as he focuses on my breasts, one cold hand going to cup one into it.

he rolls my hard nipple around between his thumb&pointer finger which makes me let out a quiet moan

“mmm, i fuckin’ love the sounds you make for me ma”

his pants grow tighter by the minute and he groans and slaps my tit, making me squeal.

he gets onto his knees on the wooden floor, gripping my thighs and pulling me towards the end of the bed.

i look down at him as he looks up at me with hunger written all over him

his fingers hook into my shorts and panties, as he looks up at me again, asking for permission

i nod quickly and he pulls them down at a very, very slow pace

“matt, please.. please..”

you aren’t looking at him but you can tell he has that shit eating grin on his face

“use your words ma, what do you want?”

i let out a shaky sigh

“please matt, finger me”

matt slaps my thigh as he lets my shorts & panties pool at my ankles

he rubs a finger up my slit, groaning at how wet i already am

“m-matt, stop teasin’ baby”

he takes a deep breath before diving into my slick folds, his tongue diving into my head as his perfect nose applies pressure onto my sensitive clit

i let out a moan

“mmm fuck-fuck don’t stop!”

matt doesn’t stop, all that can be heard is my moans, his groans and the slurping sound of my pussy being eaten by a man who looks like he hasn’t eaten in days

i felt a knot form in my stomach

“matt i’m gon- oh fuck- i’m-“

my words get cut off my the knot snapping as he laps my clit with his tongue, making my hips buck into his face, pushing him deeper into my heat

5 mins later…

i bounce up and down on matts large, hard cock, i used the precum as lubricant, knowing you didn’t need to use it as my pussy was literally dripping wet.

matts slender fingers dug into my skin, making sure to leave bruises

the only sounds heard is the hum of the cars driving outside, skin against skin slapping and both of our moans

“mmm- ma, m’so close”

my pussy clenches around him in response as he grips my waist and pulls me down harder onto to him

i moan as the knot in my stomach snaps for the 2nd time, my juices running down matts cock.

i feel his balls tense and his cock twitch then, hot strings of white cum colour my walls

we stay like this for a minute, catching our breath until he pulls me off of him and gently puts me on the bed and stands up, walking to the bathroom to grab a damp cloth to clean me up

“your still not allowed to sneak into my house matt”

he grins in response

“yeah? sure ma”

a/n: tysm for reading! and this was so so rushed 😭 any ideas leave them in the comments

with lots of love and big tits - mia!

taglist: @sturnshood @sturniololuv08 @sturniolosweets-deactivated2025 @sturniolospumpkin @chr1sslvtt @christmastreecake @chrisprettybaby @chrissturniolodailysluts @chrisweetheart @mattscoquette @mattsmedusa @mattsstarlet @mattybsgroupie @sturnsrecord @mattsobvimyfav

[gothamite-rambler]

"You are not dying for me!"

Penguin (smirking, waving his gun between Red Hood and Nightwing): Who do you choose?

Batman tapped his chin, his mind racing as he considered the right choice before making a resolute decision.

Batman (steadfast, voice steady): Shoot me.

Nightwing (eyes widening in disbelief): What?

Penguin (taken aback, blinking in confusion): What?

Red Hood (enraged recognizing Batman's intention): For Christ's sake, no! No! You're not taking a bullet for one of us! Shoot me! Seriously, turn the gun on me! Don’t you dare aim that gun at him!

Penguin turned between Batman to Red Hood, unsure of the best move to make here.

Batman (determined, voice firm): Don’t listen to him. Shoot me! I can take the bullet. I’m sacrificing myself!

Red Hood (furious, disbelief flooding his tone): Motherfucker, did I ask for that? You're not becoming a damn martyr! Penguin, shoot me, not him!

Nightwing (interjecting, voice rising as he tried to diffuse the situation): I’m quickly requesting that you not shoot me or any of us.

Penguin (confused, scratching his head): I… feel like I'm not in control of whatever this is.

Red Hood (frustrated, shaking his head): It's simple! Just shoot me in the stomach. That’s it!

Batman (voice low, threatening): If you shoot him, I will break your hand so badly that you’ll need to get it amputated.

Penguin (eyes widening): Got it, not shooting you.

Batman (exasperated, throwing up his hands): Let me get this straight, man I raised and gave a good life to: it's wrong to not want you to get shot and I should let you get shot?!

Red Hood (biting back, anger simmering): Yes! Man who had a son with an assassin because he thought a wallet condom could do the job, BITCH!

Batman (glaring): Don’t bring that up! That is not relevant to this conversation!

Red Hood (defiant, cutting in): Neither is you taking a bullet! It's Sophie's Choice, not The Prize!

Batman (snapping back, incredulous): You’re quoting media at me?! I want to die for you and you're throwing out media titles! Nightwing, let Penguin shoot me!

Nightwing (hesitant, voice shaky): I—

Red Hood (insistent, glaring at Nightwing): Nightwing, tell Penguin to shoot me!

Nightwing (looking away, voice strained): I don't want to— That wall over there looks really interesting…

Nightwing walked off with Penguin stopping him, realizing the crime lord felt it was better to step back now that he had lowered his gun.

Red Hood (clenching his fists, frustration boiling over): You know what you're doing! You’ll get shot, and with your last dying breath—or in some letter or video you set up—you'll tell me not to kill anymore. You dying would prove that!

Batman (avoiding the truth, silence lingering): …

Nightwing (disappointed, pacing past the group): Tsk, you were actually going to do that.

Penguin (mockingly): You would do that too.

Batman (snapping, voice harsh): Hey! You’re not part of this conversation, jackass! Shoot me already!

Red Hood (glaring, voice bubbling with rage): If you shoot him, I will bite your fucking nose off!

Penguin (raising his hands in surrender, voice calm): I’m just going to let you guys argue this one out. Both of those threats aren’t worth shooting either of you.

Batman (frustrated, voice firm): Let me do this for you!

Red Hood (voice rising, hurt evident): You know what? Fuck you! I’ve forgiven you; I’ve accepted you! I’ve let you pay me to not kill! I befriended Orphan, who is way better at her job than you, and through all this shit, you think you’ll take a bullet for me?

Batman (defensive, glaring at Red Hood): Who do you think you’re talking to?!

Red Hood stormed past Penguin, who merely nodded, amused, pulling out a small book to read as the argument continued.

Red Hood (shouting over his shoulder, furious): I’m talking to you, you bat-wearing, Star Wars-loving nimrod!

Batman (matching his intensity, voice rising): The prequels are good!

Red Hood (scoffing, eyes narrowing): No, they’re not, bitch!

Nightwing (sighing, feeling exasperated): I feel like this isn’t about me at all. I’m just going to deal with Penguin while you two have your father-son talk.

[pureh9neyy]

୨୧٭˚ sooooo i shifted to a dr from.. 5th grade..? + things i manifested??

ok soo i accidentally shifted to an mha(?) universe trying to get to the void- i was a tad bit bored before i went to work, and i was like “okay let me go to the void bc why not”.. this is the first time i tried to go to the void without a subliminal.. i usually always go with a subliminal, i also tried the distraction method cause i wanted to try something new.. i counted from 12-1, 13-1. affirmed “i always shift and get into the void in seconds”, “it’s crazy how i always shift on command” and i dreamed of a scenario. MIND YOU, the scenario i was distracting myself with was how i meet tloml.. (in school) i was talking to a boy, then i felt a familiar feeling of just walking through halls.. like my body just went somewhere else.. i walked into a pe room, unfamiliar with it. these gyms were four times bigger then my schools. when i walked in, i could feel my hair suddenly get longer and straighter.. and cyan. I walked in further and suddenly noticed a paper on the ground, it was the school name, an all black school that harnessed students with quirks..

soooo im looking at the papers a bit confused, my first thought wasnt “why tf am i in a school and not the fucking void like i wanted to be”, but it was rather “why am i here.. and why is my hair blue and straight..” then i thought about it and it all makes since.

sooooo i use to be a gacha kid in from 4th-6th grade and i was obsessed with mha in 5th grade and id always combine the two, gave myself ice manipulation.. star eyes? other unrealistic shit i cant rmb.. but thats besides the point.

i noticed i had powers when two people i was unfamiliar with came up to me asking me why my hair was blue and laughing and stuff.. i told them “i don’t know and to mind theirs” because why are you guys coming up to me if its not compliments or trying to be friends like ew.

then they got offended and started using their quirks, it was a black girl and a gay boy. the girl had dark magic (which is op asf if used correctly not sure why i didn’t script myself to have it..) and the boy had a speaking quirk.

so you knoww i was using my ice powers or wtv, throwing daggers at them creating walls and stuff.. (use todoroki and sub zero and combine there powers and thats me.)

i eventually beat them by putting ice on their hands and mouths and i walked out of the pe. from a distance i could see a building on fire. not sure why… i went over and i guess i was trying to play hero or smth and stopping it. i was actually eating zown, putting the fire out.. saving people.. but then my mom called me and snapped me out of 4D-

when i got back to 3D.. my body and ESPECIALLY my arms were sore as THE FUCK. i took some ibuprofen and stretched and went on tiktok.. AND YALL.. ALLEGEDLY my influencer crush (ifykyk) is ALLEGEDLYYYY bisexual.. for a couple weeks i was fantasizing about him.. NOT IN A SEXUAL OR WEIRD WAY! just in a way like “omg we’d be so cute together and we’re the same age so that’d be cute.. i like his personality and stuff.” like it was just a bit like oh my gosh did i manifest him on accident or smth-

MORAL OF THE STORY: the distraction method works- 10/10 highly recommend if you have trouble focusing!

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

Fool Me Twice, I'll Bring You Down

12 Days of Christmas Prompt: Snow | Word Count: 2398 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Mentions of Upside Down Trauma | POV: Eddie | Tags: Future Fic, Post Break-Up, Self-Sabotaging Eddie Munson, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Reconnecting, Olive Branches, Second Chances, Always the Right Guy, Finally the Right Time, Hopeful Ending

Eddie toes at the dirty snow under the sole of his boot. Nudging out a shallow hole in the mostly frozen dirt, and then filling it back in with his heel. Stamping it down, and starting the process all over again. Once he's done dragging his foot through the slush, he swings the axe one more time, splitting another log for firewood.

His arms, his shoulders, his back, are all aching. But he needs to get this done before the winter storm rolls in. They're looking at more snow, and a lot of it.

It's busy work. He doesn't have anywhere to be, or anyone to be with, and that's been a hard truth to accept. He's chilled to the bone, and this has been a long, never-ending winter of his own making.

Steve left without a sound, didn't linger, and there was nothing Eddie could do that would have made him stay. What once worked, now didn't, and Eddie's been left alone pining for what once was. It's his own fault, and he knows that. He could have tried harder, could have been easier to live with.

But he wasn't, so he hasn't heard from Steve since the day he packed up and drove away. He gave up first, and Steve gave up last, after they both fought so hard to make it work. To pull Eddie out of the hole he was hellbent on digging for himself, until the moment it wasn't worth it any longer.

Hopeless.

Eddie doesn't blame him for going, for throwing in the towel on a lost cause. It had a been a valiant effort. Steve Harrington always tried so fucking hard to save everyone, and Eddie just didn't want to be saved.

Until he did. And then it was too late.

Steve was already gone.

That realization was unbearable, and Eddie closed himself off from everyone else, besides Wayne, who packed up his shit from Hawkins and moved to the woods with Eddie.

Their home here would be peaceful, if peace was even remotely on the menu for him. It's not, not without Steve, but he's learned to accept that long ago. It is what it is, and all that. He has Wayne, and he has his solitude, which he's greatly come to appreciate. 

It's enough. It has to be.

It's snowing and blowing, as advertised, and Eddie stands at the window and watches it accumulate. Through the falling snow, Eddie catches sight of headlights, weaving down the road in the distance. Some poor asshole definitely took a wrong turn, and is now fighting the shitty roads out this way for no reason. If Eddie was an axe murderer, and believe him, he's considered that as a viable option at times, this would be the opening act of the horror film that awaits. Alas, he's just Eddie. A recluse. A hermit, living down a road with his uncle that nobody else should be on, especially not in this weather, venturing further and further off the beaten path.

Two confirmed bachelors, except. Well.

Eddie turns the silver band on his finger. He said he would until the end. And he's still here, so it is, too. Even if Steve isn't.

He keeps expecting the lights to turn around, to realize they've made a mistake, and backtrack.

They don't. Somebody's not only lost, they're apparently dumb, too, and they better not get stuck because he's not in the mood to go dig anyone out in this weather.

The lights turn up the last stretch of road to the dead end, shining towards the house, and Eddie heaves a sigh.

"Who the hell is that?" Wayne asks from his chair, as the headlights glide across the living room wall.

"Some lost idiot," Eddie says, and reaches for his coat. He'll get them turned around, so they can be left the fuck alone. They live out in the middle of nowhere for a goddamn reason.

The car slowly crunches up the driveway, and Eddie opens the front door and stands on the step. Shielding his eyes from the blinding lights.

Eddie waits until the car door finally opens, and a figure he can't make out due to the fucking headlights, stands up in the open door.

Asshole.

"Seven miles back to the highway!" Eddie yells, only taking his hand away from shielding his eyes for long enough to point back towards the dirt road. He's hoping they take the fucking hint. There's room enough to pop a u-ey in the driveway, and then be back on their merry way.

But there's silence, and for a fraction of a moment, Eddie worries that maybe he's the one at the beginning of a horror film, not the lost sheep in the car.

"It's me." 

Fuck.

Maybe a serial killer would be easier to face.

His voice is tentative, but it's Steve. There's no way it isn't. 

"You're blinding me," Eddie says, and then feels stupid about it. Like, that's what he really needs to tell Steve after all this time and distance? 

"Shit, sorry," Steve says, and leans back in the car, killing the lights.

Eddie still can't see him well, but he can at least make out his silhouette, and it's definitely Steve. He's not imagining things. Steve's here, standing in the snow.

"Can we talk?" Steve asks, as if there'd be any answer other than please.

"Yeah, c'mon in," Eddie says, and nods towards the house. Wayne's gonna give him shit for this, but what the fuck is he supposed to do? Run Steve off a second time?

He at least owes Steve the courtesy to hear him out, no matter what Steve might have to say.

Eddie kind of expects divorce papers. 

Steve's probably moved on, found someone else, and wants to legally sever their ties. Eddie wouldn't blame him. It's been a handful of years now. They can't stay in this limbo forever.

Eddie holds open the door, and Steve stamps his boots, shaking the snow loose, before he steps inside. Wayne's looking at them, face schooled totally neutral.

At least, that's what Eddie interpreted it as.

He was wrong, as per usual.

"Hey, kid. Long time no see," Wayne says, and Steve makes a noise that sounds wounded. Eddie thinks Steve hadn't expected Wayne, and Steve doesn't even take off his coat before he's leaning down to Wayne, pressing against his chest, hugging him tight as Wayne stays seated in his recliner. 

Eddie shifts his weight back and forth from foot to foot. What's he supposed to do now? Steve's here. And Eddie's been set adrift once again.

He's not mad at Steve, he's longed for him since the day he left, but Eddie can't blame him. Eddie knows he got harder and harder to live with over the years. Damaged, and fucking haunted. Steve tried. Steve tried so hard, and in the end, Eddie wouldn't let him try any longer.

He pushed, and pushed, until Steve left.

And Eddie stayed. 

Missing him, missing them, missing the full fucking life that he threw away. A storm cloud that took too long to lift, that only lessened once Wayne turned up to knock some sense into him.

He got better, got himself right, but by then, it was too late.

Steve was already gone.

When Steve rights himself, pulling away from Wayne, he follows Eddie through the house to the bedroom, and Eddie's not sure that's the place to do this, but it's pretty much the only option for any sort of privacy at all. 

Eddie closes the door behind them, and then just stands there. Looking at Steve, eyes raking over him, taking him in. If this is the last time, he wants a real good look. He's missed him.

It's like they've struck a deal, neither of them willing to speak, neither willing to break the silence that has engulfed them, finally snuffing out the yelling, the fighting like dogs in the summer sun. 

Steve reaches into his back pocket, and there is a folded over manilla envelope. He tries to smooth it out, then hands it over. It's paperwork, definitely. And Eddie doesn't want to open it, doesn't want this to be over. Steve was his chosen family, and he's not ready for that to be over for good. He's fucking self-saboteur, and the only one to blame here.

So, he pulls up the fastener, opening the brad holding it closed, and pulls out the stack of paper. 

It's not divorce papers. It's the deed to the house. 

Steve's signed in all the flagged places.

"You should have it," Steve finally says.

"But it's ours," Eddie blurts out.

And it is. They built it into the home that it is, together. It was their dream, not Eddie's dream. He can't just take it, not for good. He's kept care of it, though, hoping someday Steve would want to come back and see it. 

See him. 

Even if Eddie doesn't think he actually deserves Steve being here again.

The hint of a frown crosses Steve's mouth, "Is it, though?"

It is. 

"I've always thought so," Eddie says quietly, head bowed as if he's confessing something. Maybe he is, even if he assumed Steve would already know that. He feels pretty shitty that Steve doesn't, even after everything that's happened between them, but that doesn't change the facts, "It's our home."

Steve sits on the edge of the bed with a flop, the old box springs creaking under him.

"Well, what are we gonna do now, then?" Steve asks.

And isn't that just the million dollar question?

Eddie doesn't have an answer, so Steve fills the silence.

"I'm glad Wayne's here with you. I've been worried."

"About me, or him?" Eddie asks.

"Both, but him. His number was disconnected the last time I called and I got scared that something happened and you didn't tell me."

Eddie wants to say he would have, but he doesn't know if that's true. There's a good chance he wouldn't have been brave enough to reach out, even in a time he would have needed him the most. Maybe, especially not then. Steve's handled with care enough of his sadness and trauma to last a lifetime.

"He's fine. We're fine. Two old Boo Radleys."

Steve furrows his brow. He doesn't get the reference, so Eddie clarifies, "Two shut-ins."

There was a time he'd have poked at him, demanded to know how he hadn't read To Kill a Mockingbird, or at least seen the movie, but those days have long passed. He's grown up since then, learned the hard truths of the world, much like Scout did. He got to see the not-so-secret courts of men's hearts up close and personal in Hawkins.

Steve nods at that, and just looks so fucking sad that this is where Eddie ended up. Eddie's a little fucking sad about it, too.

But it is what it is, life is just that way sometimes.

Eddie sits on the bed next to him. 

"I've missed you," Eddie says, "I fucked it all up. And it wasn't fair to you. But I am sorry. For everything. If I could take it back, I would."

It's like time slows down, and then speeds back up, as Steve's hands rake through Eddie's hair, his fingers scratching against Eddie's scalp as he pulls him closer, kissing him like they haven't in a long fucking time. With passion, and fire, and a love that never died despite everything Eddie did to try and snuff it out to punish himself for things that were always out of his control.

When they finally pull away, Steve laughs, delighted as he flops back onto his back. He picks up Eddie's hand in his own, his thumb brushing against Eddie's wedding band, with soft little strokes.

"It's like you're you again. Almost. Sadder, though. But I never thought I'd see you again, if I did, you know, see you," Steve says, slinging his arm over his eyes. 

Eddie knows what he means.

He is a little more subdued now, whether with age, or just experience that the world isn't always something to waste energy being loud about. Not if you can't change it. And Eddie Munson's never been able to change anything.

But, maybe. Just maybe, he can change this. 

Eddie lays back beside him, just enjoying the warmth his body is putting off, just like he always did, in their best days.

"I've worked through some of my shit," Eddie admits, "Wayne helped."

Steve uncovers his eyes, and they are shiny, but happy, "He always helps."

Eddie nods, grinning, "That he does."

And then they just lay in the silence. There'll be a lot to discuss, a lot of decisions to be made. But Eddie is just going to enjoy this for what it is, at this exact moment. A chance. 

He has a chance. 

A chance to try to make it right, to show he'll be in it, if Steve will just let him. 

A chance to prove he loves him, still. Always.

But all that can wait. They've got nowhere to go, and might not for days. Because Steve's gonna get snowed in, but Eddie suspects Steve knew that when he headed out all this way. 

It was gonna end between them, in either a showdown where they were fit to be tied, or with this, perhaps. A quiet hopefulness that neither of them can dare trust. Not yet.

There is one order of business they better attend to first, though.

"Does Robin know you're here?" Eddie asks, because if she doesn't, Steve had better check in.

"Of course she does," Steve chuckles, "you think I do anything without her express written permission?"

Eddie laughs. He's missed her, too.

"We're gonna get a lot of snow," Eddie comments, "you might have to stay a while."

Steve turns his head, and catches Eddie's eyes, "That's the plan."

"Good," Eddie says, "that's good."

"But, fool me twice and I'll bring you down."

Eddie leans close, so close, "Deal. I'll provide the shovel."

"Shovel?" Steve teases, "I saw a perfectly good axe out there."

Eddie laughs, chin against Steve's broad shoulder, breathing in the smell of him, pressing the tip of his nose to Steve's warm neck.

He has a chance, and he's not about to fuck that up. 

Not again.

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun! ❄️

Notes: This was heavily influenced by the song Thistle by Breech. Haven't heard of it? You probably didn't watch Dawson's Creek as it originally aired. 🤣 (Like basically everything else, it was replaced with another song for DVD/streaming. Boo. Hiss.)

[sweetblossomsss]

Without You || CHOI SAN

Synopsis: Life without you was empty. Life after I left was unbearable. But now that I'm back, I will never let us go through that again.

WARNINGS: Please read "I'll be back" first to understand bc this is in San's point of view, fluff, suggestive, San is an assassin, fights, blood, cuts, death, gory-ish, angst(MY FAV), stabbing, guns, argument between Y/N and San, son is used as a term of endearment, "baby" is used for Y/N, I know I am missing, just lmk :)

Word Count: 15K Started: Dec 2, 2024 Finished: Feb 9, 2025

Blossom's Note: Happy New Years my petals. May this year bring you love and protection. Now this story had me feeling all types of things, definitely a whirlwind of emotions. Shoutout to the Anonymous Petal who gave me this idea. Title was inspired by Infinite H's Without U ft Zion T (Chef's kiss song) I truly hope it lives up to your standards. Now without further ado, grab a drink and popcorn and enjoy!

—

FIRST ENCOUNTER

"Understood." San says into the burner flip phone, nodding his head once. "Yes, sir. I'll get it done." And with that he presses the hang up button and breaks it in half as he starts walking, throwing the broken phone away in a nearby trash can.

He shoved his hands in the coat’s pockets as he takes precise, steady movements trailing behind his target. He squints his eyes at the sudden gush of wind, letting out a sigh. He repeats in his head no distractions like a mantra, just wanting to finish this and go home.

He sticks within the shadows he finds in the broad day light, such as building’s walls, when his target makes sudden stops along the way. It’s almost as if San is able to bled in with the bustling crowd—easy to slip and slide, getting closer to the target.

Within his coat was a deadly syringe filled with a lethal chemical, all ready to use as he plays the game of patience—waiting for the perfect opening. San moves closer, taking out a pair of black leather gloves and hastily puts them on. Just as the distance gets shorter and shorter he reaches into his coat and suddenly—

BAM!

Everyone in the crowd jolts from the sudden noise of construction. San follows the noise with his eyes as he turns to the side, seeing a construction worker using a jack hammer to break up concrete. He shakes his head and sighs in frustration, returning to his target—but just when he was about to look away, he spots you.

“Oh my god.” He whispered in disbelief, eyes slightly widening. It’s all like a movie right now—time fucking stopped when he spotted you across the street, walking in slow motion as you ran a hand through your hair while the wind blew.

You had to be one of the most beautiful woman San has ever seen. He couldn’t even control his body as he took steps forward as if in a trance while people moved around him—not caring if he was being shoved by some. San was mesmerized by your beauty. The way your presence commanded space, as the buzzing crowd moves around you.

Everything just seems to fade away—people and noise—and it felt like he had the perfect view of you. If his eyes were able to form those cartoon heart eyes, they would be in that shape right now. How can he describe this foreign feeling? Is this what they call love at first sight?

Soon enough, San was able to snap out of his day dreaming when a passing car honked at him causing him to jump back. He gasped in shock, “Shit!” He said looking at the car with widen eyes, chest heaving. Reality hits him as he looks to the side and watched his target move further away, and then he looks at you, also getting further away. “Fuck.” He whispers to himself as he walks to the direction of his target.

So much for distractions, right?

San sucked the front of his teeth as he shook his head, rushing to his target. He’ll come back to you. As he finally catches up, he realizes that the way everything was set up for perfect for San. The streets were alive with the random street vendors, crowd moving in different directions, people chattering and shouting that mixed with the traffic noise—all that’s needed to making this a smooth kill.

He watched as the target froze in his steps right in the center of the bustling crowd as he yelled into the phone causing some dirty looks at him for both blocking the pathway and screaming so loud as they moved around him.

San reached into his coat and popped the cover off the needle and took it out as he slithered through the crowd like a snake. He kept his head low, only looking up when he heard the roaring of the man’s loud voice. “No– Shut up, shut up!” The man argued with the person on the phone, “You listen to me–“

And in one swift motion, San had brushed past him with his hand barely grazing the man’s neck. “Hey,” he calls to San who froze in his steps and turned to him, “watch where you’re going.” He scoffs at him and then returns to the person on the phone. San smirked at him and turns away from, leaving before the madness.

And just in a matter of seconds, the man suddenly shot his hand to his neck, gripping it as he stumbles back a bit—his vision started to get disoriented as panic and confused surged through the man’s body. He couldn’t feel his limbs causing for him to drop his phone and then his body. Foam started forming at his mouth as he lied there with his eyes open.

A woman’s terrified scream can be heard causing people to look at the direction of the scream. “Someone call an ambulance!” A bystander said as people gathered around the body. People covered their eyes and mouth’s in shock of the sight.

San looked over his shoulder as he watched the circle of people. He throws away the syringe in a trash can and takes off his gloves, securing them in his coat as he picks up the pace. Now he can focus on you.

—

Returning back to the scene of when he first saw you, he wasted no time in trying to search for you. To say he looked like a mad man would be an understatement. He went into every single store in the proximity in hopes that you were there but you were nowhere to be found.

He lets out a groan of frustration when he leaves a little book store. He sighs in disappointment as he tucked his hands in his coat, a pout forming on his lips. But then, by a fucking miracle, he sees you coming out of a store with a huge smile on your face as you examine the things you bought in the bag that clings on your arm.

He swears he can see stars at the sight. In that moment he decides to just follow you. He tells himself that he going to be quiet and keep his distance—but as someone who is trained to be silent, quick minded, and able to kill people, even with the most ruthless methods— he was anything but the sort. He doesn’t know how but you had him so nervous and clumsy and he doesn’t even know who you are.

The first time you looked over your shoulder, just to glance back at some of mannequins that were dressed in pretty shirts, San had frozen in steps and cleared his throat as he adjusted his coat. He looked out into the distance as he sniffed, making it seem as if he totally wasn’t following you.

He slowly peaks to the side as he sees you continuing on your path to which he followed. But the second time you had stop to turn around San was thrown off guard which caused him to trip over his own feet, catching himself before his face eats the floor. He played it off while doing this horrible, awkward hop dance to play it off but—hold on, he could’ve sworn he saw you chuckling as you faced forward to keep walking.

—

It had gotten to the point where you already knew you were being followed by him so you just froze in your steps and turned around, crossing your arms as you pushed your hip to the side. He gasped as he rushed to hide behind a light post, unconsciously wrapping his arms around it.

He is mentally face palming himself right now as he stares at the large lake in front of him, wishing he could drown in it right now. When he peaks, he sees you staring at him as you raised an eyebrow at him to which he sighed because he was caught red handed. Great, I look like a stalker when in reality I was just scared to approach her.

He removes himself as he tried to find enough courage while approaching you. His heart was beating so hard against his chest, his palms were all sweaty as he wiped his hands on his pants. “Hey–Uh–I–“

He fumbled with his words as he saw how gorgeous you were up close. His eyes slightly widen as you tilted your head in confusion with a raised eyebrow, “May I help you?” You asked with curiosity and amusement in your tone.

He blinked, all flustered as he cleared his throat. “You like to–uh,” he scratched the back of his head. “I–I just think that you’re pretty.” He rushed out the last few words. Wow, real fucking smooth you idiot, he thought to himself.

You kept the eyebrow raised as you wondered if you should laugh or start backing the fuck away from this man, which made San internally panic at your silence. Soon a smirk starts to form on your lips as you eyed him up and down, “Oh,” your tone was filled with amusement, “I know you.”

His heart skips a beat, “What?” He said in a shock, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes widened.

You kept that smirk on your lips as tilted your head slightly to the side. “Yeah, you’re that guy who almost got run over from the car earlier? Or when you tripped over your feet and did that dance?” Your eyes carried mischief in them. “So far you hiding behind the light post as if your shoulders weren’t going to give you away has been my favorite.”

San turned red, completely flushed in a deep red of embarrassment. She saw all of that? Trying to save himself, he inhaled and turned to the side trying to look mysterious, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He squeaks out causing you to laugh at his reaction.

Seeing how he won’t win this, he let out a defeated sigh. “Okay,” he closed his eyes as he threw his head back in embarrassment, “Yes, unfortunately that was me.” He looks down to the floor, unable to look at your face. “I’m not as smooth as I thought I was.” A small pour forms on his lips.

You just laughed at his reaction, the smile reaching up to your eyes. You eyed him up and down once more before extending your hand out, “I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself.

His head shoots up at the introduction. He looks between your hand and face, that still held a smile. Shake it, idiot. “Oh,” he says taking your hand and shaking it. “I’m San. Choi San.” He scratched the back of head, “I promise I’m not normally like this.” He lets out sheepish smile and chuckle.

You nodded. “I figured.” You said with a playful tone.

There was a moment of silence before you cleared your throat, removing your hand from his grasp as you crossed your arms, “So,” you started off, “Is there a reason why you followed me or do I have call the cops?”

San jumped in his spot, “No!” He blurted out as he puts his hands up, feeling his heart racing. “I mean–no, please.” He lets out a nervous laugh. He then takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, “It’s just that–Well, when I saw you I just thought that you were beautiful and I couldn’t find you so I tried looking for you and I was scared to approach you so I just followed–“

He cuts off his own rambling thinking he sounds like an absolute stalker, but to his surprise you had an amuse look on your face. He cleared his throat, speaking clear, “I wanted to ask you out on a date.” He said boldly before falling back into his nervous, stammering self, “Only if–if you wanted to. If you were interested.”

A playful glint was in your eyes before you nodded your head. “Sure,” you said, “I’ll go on a date with you.”

Maybe he misheard, “What? Wait, really?” He asked and you nodded at him with a smile. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You laughed at him. You kept a mischievous smile on your face, before crossing your arms. “Just so you know, I expect a good dinner. I do have expensive taste—You think you can keep up with that?” You asked him playfully as you reached to your back pocket and unlocked it so, handing it to him.

He smirks as he nodded. “I’ll keep up with whatever you throw at me.” He grabs your phone and inputs his number, writing San on the contact name. “Okay, there you go.” He hands the phone back to you.

You sent him a text and he got it immediately. “There, now you have mine.” You tell him. And with that, you two exchanged your goodbyes. He watched as you started to walk away but stopped at a distance turning to him, “Also, no tripping to the floor or getting run over by cars on the date.” You yelled at him, teasing him as you waved goodbye before walking away.

He chuckles, looking down feeling a bit flushed of redness on his cheeks. He swears he is high on life right now as he walks through the park—it’s as if nothing can ruin this moment. Suddenly, his personal phone starts ringing and too much in a euphoric feeling, he didn’t even bother looking at who was calling him as picked up in a dazed out tone, “Yes~?”

“San!” The rough voice yelled sternly. “It has been hours. You have yet to call. Did you complete the task or no?” It was his boss, Lee.

In a snap, he stands up straight wiping that goofy smile off his face as reality hits him. Oh shit, he thinks to himself. “Yes sir. The task is completed.” He cleared his throat, “I’ll report when I arrive.”

—

The first date was something that was huge for San. First and foremost, it was his first date, ever. He wanted everything to be perfect for you so he did some "research" by watching romantic movies and searching up date ideas. He felt so overwhelmed at the amount of ideas so he just decided to go with what his heart said.

He wanted a picnic at the very same park where he asked you out. He didn't want to go to the movies or do anything too crazy because he just wanted to get to know you, from what your favorite color was to what your ambitions are for life. He even cooked all the food, yes some parts were burnt but you told him it was the best part—it was extra flavor.

You smiled at the way he eased his shoulders. When he looked to the side, you gulped a good amount of water, trying to get rid of the taste. Honestly, you aren't fan of burnt food but today you will inhale anything that is burnt. You would eat a whole burnt piece of meat to prove how much you appreciate the time and dedication San took to make this date comfortable and wonderful.

You have never had anyone do the things San has done for you in just a span of a few hours. Something about him captivated you and honestly you feel lucky to have met him. Since that day on, you two were inseparable. Throughout the following weeks the feels for one another grew and grew and it was only a matter of time before San would ask you out.

Tonight was movie night—San’s favorite night. It always ended up with the most cringe worthy movies with you lying on top of him as he runs his fingers through your hair—which is exactly what’s happening. But instead of him watching the movie, he’s watching you. He chuckles over your reactions when you laugh at something stupid or when you face palm at the second hand embarrassment.

He stares at you with eyes of memorization. He has fallen so deeply for you. He can’t believe he got so lucky to experience such a rare emotion—love—in his life. He didn’t know someone could bring it out of him, but he was more than happy that it was you.

Which is all the reason why he has decided to quit and leave this horrid life he has known since little and start anew. For you and for him—for this future he desperately wants to have with you. And tonight, he was going to get out no matter what.

“You know you don’t have to go.” Your soft voice that had a hint of playfulness in it rang in his ears as you looked up at him and placed your chin on his chest to look up at him. “It’s late,” you smiled mischievously as you moved up, closing the distance, hovering over his lips, “might as well stay the night.”

The ending credits were rolling with a slow ending song in the background that fits the mood. San groans lightly as his hand makes way to your hair, caressing it, “You know I can’t, beautiful.” He whispered to you. San has made it very clear he wants to respect you and your boundaries until you two are official. Plus, he doesn’t want anything official until he is done with his other life.

He doesn’t want to risk someone knowing about you. Plus, this is the first time he is ever experiencing this and he wants to take it slow, let things form naturally.

But you on the other, make it very difficult for him to stay sane. The way you look at him makes him come undone almost instantly, but he fights the urge. You love that he is respect of you, but shit, you just want to pounce on him sometimes—like tonight.

You sighed and got up, letting out a sigh of annoyance as you crossed your arms. “Why not?” You asked, close to stomping like a spoiled child who is getting told no.

He lets out a chuckle at your reaction as he stands up and walks up to you, putting his finger under your chin as he places a kiss on your lips. “You know why, baby.” He tells you.

You bit down your lip to stop yourself from smiling like an idiot as you look away, all annoyed but in reality you didn’t want him to see you blushing. You roll your eyes and look back at him, “Tell me,” you say, “Who is she?”

San was taken aback, furrowing his eyebrows as he tilts his head to the side, “Who’s who?” Asking you while looking at you as if you were crazy.

“Is there someone else?” You asked him and you placed your hand on your hips, trying to stop the smile that’s forming on your lips.

“What?! No!” He exclaimed with widen eyes. “You know it’s not like that, Y/N. There is no one else, I prom–“

He stops his rambling when he sees you starting to laugh. You throw your arms over his shoulders, “Sannie, I know. I’m just joking. Just trying to keep you on your toes.” You tell him through your giggles, kissing his cheeks.

He gives you a deadpan look, “You stress me out.” He tells you playfully, wrapping his arms around you. “Did you know that?” He smirks at you.

“Oh,” you tilt your head to the side smirking, “Do I?” You asked as you removed yourself from his hold, brushing past him as you sat on the sofa, letting out a sigh. “You can leave then–“

“Y/N, come on. Don’t be like that baby–“

“I’ll just be here.” You cut him off as you stare into his eyes, reaching your jacket’s zipper at the top, “all alone,” you say seductively as you watched him gulp, pulling down the zipper to reveal the exposing tight tank top underneath, “missing you.”

San stayed silent for a moment before he shook his head and looked away, covering his eyes with his hand, “Woman, my virgin eyes. We mustn’t.” He said sounding all innocent.

“Oh, please San! Virgin eyes?!” You laugh at him getting a stern like with you as you throw him pillow from your sofa.

He then looks at you and starts to walk to you, which got you all excited because you think that you finally broke this man—but no. “I know what you’re doing.” He said in a low voice, placing a hot kiss underneath your ear. “And it’s not going to work.” His lips trail to your lips as he zipped up your jacket, pecking your lips once.

You opened your eyes, panting as the realization hit you. He smirked as he stood up, “Two can play that game.” He tells you. Feeling the frustration within you build up, you went hit him with another pillow but he moved fast enough as he let out a too slow laugh.

“Choi San!” You yelled at him as you watched him walk to the door. You glared at him as he extending his arms out to the sides, waiting for a hug to which you huffed and looked away. After a few seconds, you looked back and saw him in the same position with a goofy smile on his face.

You pursed your lips as you got up, stomping with attitude in each step. You opened your arms out and looked to the side causing him to quickly pull you into his embrace. “You’re impossible you know that?” He mumbled to you.

You let out a small smile as you wrapped your arms around him and looked into his eyes, “Yeah, but you still like me, don’t you?” You say softly.

He throws his head back and lets out a sigh of satisfaction then looks back to you and smile. “More than you know.” He whispers to you and placed a sweet, long kiss on your lips. “I’ll see you soon?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yeah.” You whispered back. With one last kiss he left and you gently closed the door. You leaned your back on it as you stomped your foot feeling so frustrated at his actions.

You walked to the sofa with slumped shoulders as you dived into it, face planting into the pillow—letting out a small scream. “This man is going to be the death of me.” You say to yourself as you have flashbacks to how he kissed you.

_

The elevator dinged open, revealing a dimly lit bar with low hums of conversations scattered among the place—clinking of glasses filled the air as San stepped in to the place, noting how the men all along the walls looked at him before returning their gazes. If there was one place San knew like the back of his hand, it was here. A sanctuary—a home— that oozed with danger.

San’s eyes scanned the room until it stopped on a familiar face. He watched as the older man swirled his drink before taking a sip, who in the moment spotted San. He gives a small wave and a smile, “San!” The older man chuckles at him, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked him as he approaches him. “Come, come. Sit with me.”

The older man takes a chair for him and pats it for him. He raised his forefinger to the bartender, gesturing for one cup. San felt his chest tighten as he gulped watching the bartender a cup down on the table. He watches his boss Lee, grab the cup and started to pour. “Boss,” his voice was low—a slight pause with his words, “I–,” He takes in a deep breath. “I want out.” He said firmly.

Lee froze mid-pour. “Out.” He repeated with furrowed eyebrows. He lifted his eyes to San and then back down to the drink, giving him a small laugh. He sighs out as he places the cup down, “I’ve always known this day would come. I just did not think it would be so soon.” He gives a small smile to San.

He raises his glass with a raised eyebrow prompting San to grab his, clinking glasses together. After a moment of silence Mr. Lee spoke out, “So, you want to leave.” He says, slightly sadden by the news.

San places his drink down, wiping his hands on his pants as he sits up straight. He nods his head once, “Yes, sir.”

Lee nods once, processing this. “Why the sudden change?” He tilts his head, swirling the drink in his hand, maintaining his eye contact with San.

“It’s not sudden, sir.” San begins. “First and foremost I just want to say that I am beyond grateful that you took me in and gave me the life I have. Without you, I don’t know where I would be. Truly. But, I just think… it’s time for me to move on.” San said, lowering his gaze feeling a bit nervous and worried.

Lee just stays silent, eyeing San up and down—almost as if he’s studying him. “Hmm,” he hummed at him, taking a sip before slamming his cup down. “It’s a girl, isn’t it?” He smirked at San.

San just stayed silent as he looked into his eyes. Lee’s eyes narrowed slightly, smirk growing wider as if he was amused. The man claps his hands and his laughter echoed throughout causing for his men to shift their attention to him for a second. “I knew it, I knew it~” He does a little shoulder dance as he leans in closer to taunt San. “Of course it is. Who would’ve thought your cold heart would be melted, huh? You’re in love.”

San groans in embarrassment, shoulders slumped as he facepalms. “Boss,” it comes out muffled, “please.” He pleaded with him.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” He asked him, with a teasing smile and a raised eyebrow.

San peaked through his fingers, a small pause. “Yes.” He squeaks out, trying to him his composure—trying to stop himself from swinging his legs under the table like a school girl as he blushes hard.

“Ou!” His boss shoved him as he fan girled with him. Would you believe the sight of two of the most toughest, deadliest men in the world are acting like two school girls as they gossip over San’s love life?

After a moment though, unfortunately, the seriousness climbs back in—killing all happiness in the air. “San,” his boss leans on the table and he intertwined his fingers, “You know how this works. You know you can’t just simply leave.” Of course, San knew, but for you he was willing to do anything.

He watches as Lee pours another drink for himself. “I have a job for you.” He said simply. “A job that only that you can do.”

“Anything.” San said, body all stiffened up as he paid close attention.

Lee leans slightly in, “There are men—powerful men— who have gotten away with the most vile, inhumane things. They all think that with the money, status, even influence they have, that they can hide behind it. Almost as if they are untouchable—but you, San, are going to change that.”

Internally, San is feeling his heart racing—unsure of what is to unfold in this conversation. Externally, he remains his calm demeanor, “What are you trying to tell me?”

“What I’m telling you is that if you want out, then this is what you must do. You will take all of them down—permanently.” His voice got stern. Lee leans back in his chair, “Think of it as cleansing to the world. Do this for me and you are free.”

He grabs a folder that was lying next to him, sliding it to San—it’s like as if he knew this interaction was going to happen. “Names, locations, habits, crimes—everything you need is in there.”

San grabs the folder and opens it. His heart started racing as his eyes scanned the different pages, his eyes widening. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do? This is impossible.” San looked at him as he leaned back in his chair, all in disbelief. They are politicians, CEOs—all different important figures.

“I’m asking you—No—Demanding you to do this job.” Lee said with a slight raise in his voice. But he can’t help to let out a sigh as he places a comforting hand on San’s shoulder. “San, I care about you very much, like a son, hence why I am giving you a chance out. But you are the only one who I trust with this type of job.”

Lee leans back in his chair, raising the glass to his lips. “And if you want to be with Y/N,” San’s eyes quickly shoot to him, feeling his face drain color, “then this is what you must do.” He takes a sip of his drink.

If looks could kill, Mr. Lee would’ve been dead as soon as your name came out of his mouth. Lee has never seen such a murderous look on San’s face before and, trust him, that says a lot. He laughs at his reaction, “Relax.” He tells him as he waves him off. “You know I had to make sure. She’s a good one. I can see why you want to leave all of this for her.”

San should’ve fucking known. Of course, Lee would know—he knows everything. Now San is left with this blessing and curse of approval. Lee stands up, grabbing his coat and placing it on as he signaled his men that it’s time to go. “Think it over.” He tells San as he adjusts his coat and walks past him, patting his shoulder.

Think it over? There was nothing to think over. San is a man who knows what he wants and what he wants is you. He would find the ends of the Earth just for you. San stands up, the chair rusting against the floor. “I’ll do it.” He shouts to his boss.

Lee grabs his hat off the rack and enters the elevator, his men all trailing behind him. He smirks at San, “I knew you would.” And with that the elevator door closes, leaving San to figure his next strategy as he sits back down ordering a drink.

_

It was a beautiful, dark night. The stars twinkling and gleaming from afar as the moonlight casts over the city. Up in the roof San was crouched low, carefully assembling his sniper rifle piece by piece. You could say he was a bit nervous, but not from the mission—no, no—it was from your soft voice in his ear Bluetooth.

“I miss you.” Your voice ringed so sweet in his ears, it had him biting on his lower lip as he formed a smile. “When are you coming over again?” You asked, turning to lay on your stomach on the bed as you slowly kicked your legs up and down.

“I’ll come over soon baby.” He murmured in a low and steady voice. You let out a silent scream at his voice and sweet name as you covered your mouth, kicking your feet like a school girl. But in all honesty, San didn’t know when he would be going to see you—given the task at hand.

You regained your composure, clearing your throat bringing the phone closer to you. “Soon is what you said last time.” You spoke with a pout on your lips. You sat up on the bed and let out a sigh. “Are you avoiding me?” You crossed your arms.

San chuckled softly at your slight attitude, his hand tightened up the last piece of the rifle’s scope into place. His eyes flickered to the building across from him, seeing his target’s silhouette visible through the window. “Avoiding you? Why would I ever do something stupid. You’re all I think about.”

You bit down on your finger to stop yourself from squealing, feeling your heart swarm with warmness from his words. “You think about me?” You asked while playing with the ends of your hair. “When, huh?” You smirk as you bit your lip.

He smirks as he looks through the scope, his eyes following the shadow. “All day, everyday. When I wake up to when I go to sleep. Every second, every minute, every hour.” His voice sounding so sweet.

You let out a very dramatic, exaggerated sigh as you fall on your back bouncing a bit from impact. “You’re luck you’re cute. Otherwise I would be very angry right now.”

San remained the smirk on his face as he adjusted the rifle and settled into position. “Oh, so you think I’m cute?” The cold metal pressed against his cheek as he peered once more through the scope. The target was all alone in his office, all clear in the view, oblivious on what’s about to happen. “I’m flattered.” He teased at you, voice was light as he tracked his target’s movements.

“Pfft,” you let out as you playfully rolled your eyes. “Don’t let it get it your head.” You tried replying with a serious tone but he can hear the smile in your voice. “So, what are you doing right now?” You asked him.

San hesitated for a split second as he looks around. “Just… working.” He said vaguely, his tone softening as his thumb gently adjusted the scope’s zoom.

“Hmm,” you mused. “Well, don’t work too hard now. You better be taking care of yourself, okay?”

San’s smile faltered for a moment, guilt creeping in. “Don’t worry. I am.” He says. He realized he can’t do this if you’re on the phone, distracting him. "Listen, beautiful, I have to go—Boss is coming in." He lies to you.

“Okay.” You sighed out the word as you sat up, shoulders slumped as you gnawed on your lip. “How about if I call you tonight?” He asked you, hated hearing your sad tone. You quickly perked up, “Okay! Perfect.” You gleamed. “I’ll be waiting for you then, bye!” He laughed at your switch up reaction when you hung up quickly—as if time will go faster.

Through the scope, he saw that his target stood up, walking to the window. San adjusted himself in position, his breathing slowed down as his finger hovered over the trigger. All the noise went silent as he exhaled steadily, aiming at the man’s chest.

With practice precision, he tightened the trigger. The sound of the shot radiated through the night. Instantly, the man collapsed to the floor, blood oozing out of his chest. San kept his eyes on the body, making sure the job was completed. He exhaled slowly as he stood, hand already disassembling the rifle. He felt all the tension just leaving his body.

He places everything back in its spot in the case, packing up. He stands up, stretching his neck and staring in the far distance as the night breeze blows, running a hand through his hair. He grabs the case and disappears into the shadow of the night. This was just the beginning but he was going to get it all done—for you.

-

The following missions were a blur of danger and exhaustion. Every single target pushed San to his breaking point both physically and mental limit—testing his resolve in ways he could have never imagined. One night he was in hand to hand fight in a warehouse, barely avoiding a knife to his ribs to another night infiltrating a high security party, he smoothing past through the guards and tight knit surveillance to drop a pill in his target’s drink.

The elevator doors open revealing a different atmosphere in the bar tonight. He turns to the side and spots Lee at the center, nursing the same drink as always with a cigar in his other hand. Hearing the elevator door close, Lee turns and gives a smile when he spots San.

San approached him. “Boss.” He says firmly, standing in the position of attention, hands behind his back.

“There he is!” Lee exclaimed as he stands up and grabs San’s face with a huge smile on his face. “The man who did the impossible.” Lee turns to the bartender, “One more glass.”

“Come sit, sit,” he waves San over and taps the stool next to him. “Always so stiff.” Lee mumbled to himself as he raised the glass to his lips and takes a sip.

San was hesitant, but he eventually slid into the stool, dragging it closer inward. He watches as his boss poured him a glass with a smile on his face—almost as if he was a proud father.

“So,” Lee began, placing the bottle down as he leaned back in chair studying San with a sadden gaze. “How does it feel, mm? You’re finally free.”

San chuckles softly as he grabs the glass and takes a sip, the burn of the alcohol makes his face scrunch up slightly. “It feels… foreign. But,” he looks at Lee, “I’m ready.”

Lee chuckles and pats his arm. “I know you are.” He sighs as he swirled the liquid in his glass, “You’ve grown, so much. You deserve this new life, San. I mean it. Love it to the fullest.” He turned to face him and raised his glass for a toast. “To a new chapter”

They clinked glasses, the sound echoing softly in the quiet bar. For the first time in years, San felt the weight on his shoulders begin to lift. He was finally free. After a while of talking, San decided it was time to go home—you.

But Lee stops him. “San,” he calls to him. San stops in his steps, turning around to face him. “Yes, sir?”

Lee chuckles softly at the name. “You know that if you need anything—anything at all—I will always be here for you.”

San smiles, nodding. “Thank you, sir.” And with that he leaves rushing to go see you.

That same night he went to your apartment and official asked you to be his and this time he stayed with you.

_

DURING THE RELATIONSHIP

The early stages of your relationship with San were of course, the sweetest. You both loved falling in love with each other and discovering new things or habits from one another. You loved the balance you both had in the relationship.

From the random, sleep deprived 2am conversations such as asking if you were a fly would he still be your boyfriend to which he replied saying, “Why would you be a fly to begin with?” Which prompt you sit up in your bed, clutching onto the phone saying, “Answer the question!”

“I mean–I guess, right?” He shrugged. “Are you serious? You guess?! I would take care of you, make sure you were fed on whatever fly eats…” You started rambling which San groan lightly as he rub his face, this is going to be a long night, he thought to himself.

To making core memories in the rain, trying to replicate like those dramatic kissing scenes in movies only for you two to scream in fear when thunder radiated throughout the night as you two ran for shelter, catching your breaths only to look at each and laugh, “We’re so stupid.” You say through your laughs, panting.

Or his favorite moments is when you would come by his new job at the tire shop unexpectedly and would have lunch with him. “Hey,” you greeted him on the phone as you leaned your back on your car, “I got the stuff.”

He sneered at your comment as you hung up the phone. He went and washed his hands, stepping outside as he dried his hands with a paper towel. He spots you outside your car, doing a little beckoning dance with both sandwiches in each hand to which he chuckled as he got close.

“Thank you for the food.” He whispers to you, placing a gentle kiss on your lips as he takes the food from your hand. You smiled at him, “Of course.” You two then headed to a bench where you threw one leg over his and started catching him up on your work’s fresh gossip.

“And then she was like, “I’m not putting up with your shit.” Can you believe she said that?” You tell San as you take a bite out of your food.

“No way she said that to her boss. She’s crazy for doing that.” San said trying to give his input but in reality he could give a shit, but seeing you all passionate in your story made him smile.

You looked at him with widen eyes, covering your food filled mouth, “That’s what I said! She’s crazy.” Your words came out muffled as you shook your head.

Or when he notices your car needs gas so he goes with you and does everything for you so you don’t have to worry about a thing. He gets an idea, smirking as he taps on your passenger window, asking you to put it down. “Never seen a beautiful girl like you here before.” He leans on the car, getting a good view.

You give him a stank face as you dropped your phone, crossing your arms. “I have a boyfriend.” Scoffing at him.

“Oh, do you?” He tilts his head to the side, “Where is he?” He asked, hands leaning in the car.

“Please, you would be scared of him. He can beat your ass. Now, shoo shoo, please.” You waved him off, raising the window. San scoffed and took out the keys and unlocked the door, opening it as you gasped in shock, “My boyfriend–“

“Won’t do anything.” He cuts you off and kisses you, causing you to smile into it. He breaks the kiss and pouts, “You would let the man kiss you that easily?” You rolled your eyes and kissed his pout.

Or the serious moments you two had with one another in the car when he was dropping you off or when you were in your house, sitting closely together. You two would ask each other deep questions like what you want from this relationship, do you want marriage, kids, are you happy with the jobs you have, is there more you want from life helping you two bring out new perspectives and experiences in these conversations.

Or when making huge decisions, such as moving in together. San has decided to ask you a little into the two years of your relationship, wanting to take it to the next level. It was an exciting time when you both went apartment hunting and finally found one that spoke to you both.

You both had taken your time in being organize for the move, checking what is to throw away or donate, labeling the boxes, getting caught up in tape at times. When the moving truck came, San had taken the heavy boxes while you dragged some and some of the movers helped you pick it up.

When it was time, San closed the truck and you two followed them to your new apartment. It was a sight to see San getting a frustrated when he was struggling to set up the new sofa, rereading the instructions for the 20th time. Meanwhile you were organizing and taking things out the boxes, trying to not make it obvious that you were laughing.

You cleared your throat when a laugh erupted deep from your throat causing him to give you a look, “You think this is funny?” He asks you all frustrated as he drops the stupid paper of instructions.

You sighed a smile as you walked to him. You know he’s just exhausted and frustrated from the move, he’s not trying to take it out on you. You extend your hand to him and helped him up, “Baby, I know you’re frustrated. It’s okay.” Your hands roam his back.

You then take both of his hands and walked backwards, guiding him to the bedroom. “The bed is made, right? Why don’t we double check that it’s secure?” You smiled at him which made him bit his lower lips, smirking, as he closed the door behind him.

Don’t worry, the bed was secure and the sofa was soon built.

—

Like many other relationship, there were the hard times—Arguments which were just the worst. Take tonight for example when you coworkers had invite you and San to this new sports bar and they just so happen to invite one of their friends, who was very friendly to San—who by the way was blinded by her actions.

“No way, so you work at a tire shop?” Jina said she leaned closer to San, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think that’s so cool. I’ve always wanted to learn how to change a tire, maybe you can help me?” She flirtatiously blinks her eyes twice, looking up at him.

Ugh, you think to yourself as you angrily chewed off a piece of celery you dipped in ranch. You rolled your eyes as you look to side, but everyone was too caught in their respective conversations to notice. “Surprisingly it’s not that hard.” He smiled at her, “I’m sure you can do it.”

You are certainly amazed at how strong the cup is because your tight ass grip feels like it can shatter it at any moment. You take a sip of your beer, trying to calm down when she placed her hand on his bicep. “You’re so sweet,” she chuckles at him as she flicks her hair back, “But I definitely need some guidance.”

He just smiles at her, taking a sip of his drink. She looks at you, “Oh, Y/N, you’re very lucky,” she gives you a smile as she looks back at him. “He’s such a sweetheart.”

You flash her a sarcastic smile, mocking her head tilt and toke of voice, “Mm, yes, I am the luckiest. He’s the best.” Bitch.

—

Throughout the entire night Jina continued with her flirtatious ways. Every time San would make joke, she laughed a little too hard as she playfully slapped his arm, covering her mouth. Or when she would excuse herself to the restroom, she would use that moment to brush up against him, using his shoulders for support as some people walked past her. Or when she would scoot her chair closer to San.

   At this point, saying your patience was wearing thin was an understatement. You knew San wasn’t letting her do this, he was oblivious to everything and tried remaining polite because he did not want to disrespect your coworkers or ruin the night. 

—

   You stepped into the apartment, angrily removing your shoes, using the wall for support. You shook off your coat and hung it with attitude on the rack as you started walking to the bedroom.

   San eyed you up and down, trying to figure out why you’re acting like this. “Are you okay?” He raised an eyebrow as he took off his coat.

   “Yeah.” You say dryly as you walked to the room. He throws his head back and sighs in frustration, “Baby, talk to me.” He shouts to you but you just ignore him.

  He walks into the room, seeing that you changed into an oversized tee shirt. Dumping your dirty clothes in the hamper, you walked to the bathroom. “Baby, what’s going on?” He asked you softly, following you.

   You stopped your actions and gave him a look, “Why don’t you ask Jina?” You say spitting out her name like poison as you kept walking to the bathroom.

  He stands there all confused, “Jina? Why would I ask her?” He asked you genuinely confused which only fueled your frustration even more.

  You scoffed as you bend down, grabbing your makeup remover from underneath. “Are you serious San?” You turned to him, “Jina was basically throwing herself on you the entire night.” 

  You opened your cleansing balm, scooping some and angrily rubbed your face. “Y/N, she was just being nice. That’s it.” He tells you as he crossed his arms.

   You let out a humorless laugh, “Oh please San, nice?” You tell him as you put water on your face and took off the balm. “Oh, you work on cars? Let me just laugh hard at all your jokes, place my hand on you, brush up against you and disrespect your girlfriend in her face.” You mocked her tone of voice. “She was all over you tonight.” 

  He sighed, “Baby, she wasn’t—“ San started but stopped in his words when you stopped drying your face to give him a pissed off look, “Okay, maybe she was being too friendly. But I wasn’t paying attention to her like that at all.” 

  You scoffed out, shaking your head. “No, I can definitely tell by the way you just kept letting her.” You turned off the bathroom lights and brushed past him, standing by the dresser as you take off your earrings. “You didn’t even bother to notice the way she kept touching you, or the way she was moving closer to you—“ You shook your head, trying to stop your tears, “How do you think that made me feel?” Your voice trembled.

  His heart breaks at the tone of your voice. He walks up to you and cups your face, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Baby, I wasn’t trying to upset you. I only spoke to her because it was your coworker’s friend, that’s it.” He whispers to you, looking deep into your eyes. “You know that you’re the only one for me. The only one I care about.” 

  You removed yourself from his grasp, turning around and pinching your nose bridge as the hot tears formed. “It didn’t feel like it tonight.” 

  San looks at you with sad eyes. He hates it when he is the reason as to why you’re hurt. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.” He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to him. “I never meant to make you upset or uncomfortable. I promise you that this won’t happen ever again.” 

  “You promise?” You asked him once more and he turns you around, smiling at you as he wipes your tears with his thumbs, “I promise.” He tells you, nodding.

  He leans in to kiss you and you stop him with your forefinger, “Um, just cause this argument is over doesn’t mean I’m over it. ” You tell him sassily and he laughs, planting a kiss on your cheek.

   “Well, can I show you another way on how sorry I am?” He raised an eyebrow as he got on his knees, keeping the eye contact with you. His hands roam the back of your legs as you threw your head back in frustration, you have no restraint. 

-

Throughout the past five years you two have grown and changed so much in your relationship and in your own personal lives. You are so happy that San is in your life and vice versa. He truly couldn’t believe how drastically his life has changed. But he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The sound of the sizzling meat filled the cozy silence in the room while the aroma filled up your senses. San stood by the stove in a black tank top with a rag draped over his shoulder with a concentrated look on his face as he grabbed the handle of the pan, tilting it to scoop up the melted butter and oil mixture with a spoon to drench the meat with practiced ease.

You were sat upon the counter with one leg propped up as you leaned your chin on your knee, scrolling through your phone. You slightly chuckled at some funny videos on your feed, calling San's attention to show him. Everything seemed completely normal, nothing out of the ordinary.

San lived for these peaceful moments with you. He went back to focusing on his cooking but from the corner of his eye he saw his phone lighting up, slightly moving from the vibration. He glanced at the screen, expecting it to be a coworker calling to cover their shift but he felt his body go cold when he saw the number flashing across the screen.

Lee.

He felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand up. Five years. It's been five years since he last spoke to him—since he last saw him. He felt a ringing coming into his ears. "Babe?" You looked up from your phone when you noticed his sudden stillness, "Everything okay?"

The ringing fades as he clears his throat. "Yeah, baby." He lies as he forced a quick smile, turning off the stove. He grabbed the phone and turned to you, giving you a kiss which causes you to smile. "It's just one of the guys from work. I'll be back." He smiles at you as he heads to the bedroom, "Can you set up the table, please?"

You playfully groan as you hopped of the counter. "I have to do everything myself." You sarcastically say as you opened the cabinet and grabbed two plates. "Of course I can." You smirked at him.

"Thank you for your sacrifice." He winks at you. His expression turns serious as he turns around and picks up the pace, stepping into the bedroom. He gently shuts the door and looks down to his phone, seeing that Lee is calling again. He gulps as he picks up, raising the phone to his ear. "Lee?" He whispers.

"San." The familiar deep voice makes a shiver run down San's spine as San gulps down the nerves. On the opposite side of the phone, Lee stood in-front of his ceiling to floor windows in his office, looking out into the night. "It's been a while."

San takes a few steps to the center of the room, eyes roaming around as his breath hitched. "Five years." His throat tightened. "Why-Why are you calling me?"

Lee lets out a sigh, looking down to the floor feeling remorse. "People are looking for you, San." He answers him. San eyes widened at his words, feeling the whole world stop. "They are looking for revenge."

A million thoughts were rushing in his head. He lets out a disbelief scoff as he walks to the bed and sits down, feeling his head spinning. "Revenge?" He whispered in wariness. "What do you mean? I don't understand." One moment he is cooking and wanting to have a nice dinner with you to the next, getting told people are out to kill him.

"San, the men I ordered you to kill—" He cuts himself off with a sigh as he closes his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows in regret. "Their people are looking for you. Someone tipped me off and San— it's serious. You need to disappear. Now."

San looks at the phone as if Lee would see his face of-are-you-insane. He shakes his head and lets out a scoff. "What? I can't just-"

"You don't have a choice, San." Lee interrupted him, raising his tone. "They are coming for you, do you understand what I'm saying?" Lee looks behind him, making sure no one in the room. "They will come for her." He whispered into the phone.

San head shoots up to the door and stares at it. Just on the other side you are setting up the table, oblivious to everything that is happening. He wants to fucking scream at the top of his lungs and punch the wall. "San," Lee's voice takes him out of his thoughts of these people hurting you. “This is something worst than anything we have ever dealt with. I'll be giving you two weeks to get everything sorted out. You know what you have to do.”

The line went dead.

San felt the world falling and crushing his soul. He dropped his arm, causing his phone to drop on the floor as he spaced out. This can't be happening, he thinks to himself. Everything he worked so hard for was just ripped from him in a heartbeat.

A knock on the door caused him to look up. "Is everything okay? What did work want?" You asked him as you walked to him, cupping his face to make him look up at you. "The table is set. Just waiting for the chef to serve the food." You smirked as you straddled him.

He smirks at you as he wraps his arms around your waist. "My apologizes, madam. We are a little backed up today. Can you forgive me?" He jokes with you. As he stares into your eyes, he feels everything falling around him knowing that he soon won't have these moments with you.

"Yes, I forgive you." You kissed his lips, chuckling lightly. You caressed his head as you looked into his eyes, "All good with work?" You asked once more.

He nods. "Yeah. It was just my boss calling to see if I can pick some extra shifts. Some of my coworkers have called out so I'm the only option."

You pouted as you slouched a bit. "I'm sorry. I know how much it frustrates you when you have to take more shifts." You peck his lips. He wished that was the actual reason.

He shakes his head. "It's okay." He smiles. He then stands up with you still in his hold causing you to wrap your legs around him. "I'm starving. I heard the chef was super handsome and an excellent cook."

You giggled. "Must've heard the opposite." You teased him. He gives you a deadpan look as he stopped in his steps. "Remind me why I'm feeding you?" He askes you with a glare. You then placed a loving kiss on his cheek. Now, he remembers why.

Later that night, you two were in bed. You had long fallen asleep all cuddled up on his chest as San stares into the ceiling. He turns to the side and looks down at your face, taking in your light snores as he gently places a kiss on your forehead. He knows what he has to do.

—

DURING THE FIVE YEARS

The following day, San entered his job with his hands tucked into his front pockets as he gave a small smile and nod to his passing coworkers as he headed to his boss's office. The scent of rubber and motor oil entered his nostrils as he knocked on the door.

A muffled come in was heard and San let out a breath as he twisted the knob, entering the office. His boss looked up from the paper work in his hand and gives him a smile as he takes off his glasses, "San!" He beamed as he stood up. "How are you, son? You don't work today, right?"

San closes the door, the sounds of the shop fades away. He gives him a sad smile, hands behind his back as he stands up straight. "I just, um," San clears his throat. "I need to talk to you."

His boss nods as he gestures to the chair in-front of his desk, "Of course. Please, sit and tell me." His boss tells him, scooting in his own chair and intertwining his hands.

He watched as San sits down and looks at him, firmly saying, “I’m quitting.”

His boss shakes his head both taken aback and sadden at the news. "What? Why? Did someone say something to you? Did something happen?" He bombarded him with questions, feeling whiplashed.

San stays quiet, contemplating if he should tell him or not. “I have to go somewhere for a while and I have a favor to ask of you.“ his voice was low. His boss nods, listening intently, "People are going to come in here and ask of me, you will tell them that you do not know who I am. If Y/N comes in, you will tell her the same thing. Understood?”

His boss was taken aback, nervously chuckling thinking it's a joke San is trying to pull. "You’re worrying me San,” he scratched the back of his head. But San remains serious causing his boss to lean forward, “You’re–You’re being serious? San, what is going on?”

San reached into his jacket, taking out an orange envelope and placed it in-front of his boss. His boss looks unsure until San nods at him causing him to hesitatingly pick up the envelope, opening it and widens his eyes at the stack of cash.

He looks between the cash and San’s serious expression with widen eyes. “That is for your troubles.” San said to him.

“Just promise me that you will do what I ask of you. Especially for Y/N. Remove me from photos, throw anything of mine away—nothing must stay. Please tell this to the rest of the guys.” San tells him.

His boss slowly nods in shock as he watches San stand up and walk to the door. He drops the money and quickly gets in front of him, holding onto his arms, “San, are you in trouble? Are you going to be okay?” His boss asked him.

“I will be okay, but for everyone’s safety it’s best if no one knows. Forgive me for putting you through all of this.” He gives him a sad smile and opens the door but looks back at his boss one last time, “I know you won’t understand but thank you. Thank you for being a great boss and for giving me a sense of normalcy.”

And with that San heads out the door ignoring his boss calling out to him. His boss sighs in defeat as he watched him disappeared. He truly admired him like a son of his own so this good bye pains him.

He cleaned his throat as he claps his hands getting everyone’s attention. “Everyone, team meeting! Gather around.” He wants to help San but knows that he can’t so he will do his part here until San returns.

—

Every night that lead up to the finale night with you killed him inside. It was hard to him to keep his composure when he was around you. When it was time, he just wanted to run away with you and live the life he envisions with you—but no, not yet. Just once more he has to go back to who he was and pray you will forgive him when he comes back.

As he walked down the apartments hallway, he just shook his head of his emotions. And just like that, he was back into the killer he was. He gently closed the apartment door, sighing heavy as he stood there for a moment. His hand runs down the door as he mentally says goodbye to everything he had.

He then heads downstairs, pushing the complex’s front doors revealing Lee. He stood outside the sleek black car while to of his men stood beside him. He slowly approached him, both of them not uttering a single word before Lee broke the tension and pulled him into a hug.

“San,” he whispered into his ear. San slowly wrap his arms around him and pats his back, still silent. “I’m so sorry.” Lee tells him and released the embrace, holding on his arms, “Come on. Let’s talk.” He nods to the car.

San watched as one of his men opened the door for him but took one last glance at the apartment window. I’m so sorry, he thought to himself. He sighed and headed inside the car.

—

During the drive, San looked out the window and watched the city he knew fade as they drove further away. Lee snaps his fingers which prompted the man in the passenger seat to give him a stack of folders. “San.” Lee calls to him.

When San sees the amount of folders, it’s takes all within him to not stomp like a child. He sneakily rolls his eyes as he grabs the folders from his hands. "These are all the people who are looking for you." Lee says. "Names, locations—everything you need to know is all in there."

Familiar words that put him here in the first place.

San’s stomach churned as he flips through the pages. These people weren’t just any petty criminals—no, these were some next level powerful criminals disguised as people in power. “You aren’t alone in this. We will get through this.” Lee reassured San as he lights up a cigar.

San just ignored Lee, not really wanting to talk about this right now. He clenched his jaw, “I need a favor,” he tells Lee who raised an eyebrow at him. “I need you to clear off my name in the system. No records, no loose ends—I need to disappear completely."

Lee studied him for a moment before nodding. “Consider it done.”

—

San didn’t get a wink of sleep, seeing the room slowly get brightened up by the sun through the small window. Lee had put him in a safe house in an abandoned corner of the city. As the light peers in, his heart crushes at the thought that it’s morning and you are about to find out.

He took advantage of the night and plastered the photos of his targets all over the walls. Their faces were lined up next to one another with their profile and description of crimes scribbled on them with red ink as sticky tabs surrounded them. The table was in a chaos of folders, maps that had markings of last known locations, more photos, hide outs, and extra information on sticky notes.

Meanwhile San was on the floor, shirtless as the sweat on his body glistened as his chest heavies while doing push ups. He lets out groans and grunts in sharp breaths, ignoring the burning sensation in his muscles.

“You reach out to her, you put her in danger.” Lee’s voice popped up in his head when he thought about you. His arms trembling from exhaustion, but he didn’t care—he had to get stronger for you. The haunting of Lee’s words pushed him harder.

Feeling as if it wasn’t enough, he stands up and wasted no time in jumping up to grip the bar that was bolted to the ceiling. He controlled his breathing as he did his pulls ups, staring directly to his first targets eyes.

Once he was satisfied, he walked to the worn out punching bag that was hung in the corner. He closed his eyes as he rolled his shoulders, opening them as he went straight into punching the bag. With each punch, he pictured the lowlife’s face giving quick and brutal combinations.

The bag jerked around with every hit that released all the anger and frustration as he screamed out loud. The hits become harder and faster—his skin all raw and broken around the knuckles. Sweat flying everywhere, some from his brow dripping down to his chest.

Lee’s voice came back to him, sharper now. “She’ll be dragged into this if you’re not careful.” San froze for a second, his fist resting against the bag, his breath heavy. He could see you so clearly in his mind, your smile and laughter when you tilt your head back.

He then pictured someone taking that away from him which just caused him to punch the bag with all his force, causing the bag to split open as the sand poured out like waterfall to the floor.

He stood over it as he watched it fall out, chest heaving. No. He can’t let himself think of that, he can’t fall into that weakness. He wipes his face with his forearm as he turned around and sat on the chair next to the table.

He leaned back as he hissed in pain when he tried closing his hands. He looks down and saw how bloody and irritated his knuckles were. He groans as he throws his head back and tries catching his breath.

After a moment, he controls his breathing and turns his head to the table then to the wall. He sits up and darkened his dark eyes to his first target—his expression hard as stone. He’s going to kill them all, every single one of them.

—

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and months turned into years since he began—since he last saw you. Little by little he’s completing his job but he can’t help but to feel so fucking upset at how long it has taken. But no matter how exhausted he is, you were his motivation to keep going.

There are countless nights when he lies in bed and skims through his photo gallery. He misses the way your smile reached your eyes, he missed the playful banter you two had with one another, misses your habits—everything. He would sad smile at the photos you were pissed off with him making a goofy smile because he most likely did something to annoy you.

Throughout the years, he would try convincing himself that you were okay. But when he went to check your socials, you were no where to be found. You were gone. Every account deactivated, every trace of you wiped clean from the digital world. It was like you’d vanished.

It killed him inside but he was feeling selfish because he did this to you but far worst. He spent days fighting the urge to just go and see you and when he found the courage, Lee would pop into his head.

But today, he cannot hold himself back. Fuck Lee right now. He drove with anxiety coursing in his body. He wondered how you are? Are you dating? Do you have a boyfriend? He gripped the steering wheel at the thought of you with another man. Are you happy? Are you still working at the same place?

But honestly, nothing could prepare him for what was to come of you. He sees you walking out of your job and you just looked absolutely miserable. The light in your eyes, gone. The smile he adored, nonexistent. You looked so broken and exhausted—his heart felt like it was ripped out and stabbed as he felt tears coming in. It was all his fault.

He turns off the car and heads out, tears streaming as he shoves through people saying sorry as he looks at your walking figure. Just when he is about to reach out, he freezes in his steps. He can’t. The people engulf around him as he watches you walk further. You sensed someone looking at you and turned around but no one. Meanwhile San hide behind a building, catching his breath as he slides down the wall crying.

He just wanted to run up to you and hold you and explain everything to you. Since that day, he always kept an eye on you. There were days when you all cooped up in the apartment with curtains closed or stayed at work until closing.

Whenever he would see you coming out the complex, he had to do everything to calm down. His heart would twist painfully when he saw the emptiness in the way you moved—just going through the motions of life and every time he would hate himself more and more.

—

One afternoon, when he went to go see you he felt the world stopping around him. The sight of a moving truck parked outside makes his stomach drop. His mouth parted when he saw you coming out the building, using your back to open the door as you held a box in your hands.

You were leaving.

He feels like he’s losing you all over again. He watches as you hand the box to the mover with a tight smile and head back inside. He soon remembers when you two moved in now fading into this memory—something beautiful to something broken.

He can’t help it but to stay. Once you were done, he watched you hand the key to the building representative—the same one who welcomed you both the first day—and hugged her. When the truck pulls out, he stays behind them in a safe distance.

San slapped his hand on the steering wheel as he starts crying. All he wanted—dreamt of— was a normal life with you and now everything is being taken away from him again. He can’t stop himself—he can’t let you go not when you are slipping further and further from him.

When you arrived to your new building, he looks as you unpacked the truck. In that moment he decided that he will leave you alone and come back stronger and better for you. He will complete this for you.

—

It had a been a whole year since he last saw you. He was determined to finish this already. Just one more and that was it.

It was nighttime and San was in a deep sleep in bed—until he felt his phone vibrate underneath his pillow causing him to stir to the side and go back to sleep. But then the person called again causing him to groan as he turns around and grab his phone.

He squints and looks away, the brightness burning his eyes. He then blinks a few times and looks at the screen again, seeing that Lee was calling him.

He sighs as he falls back on his back, placing his free arm over his eyes as he picks up the phone, “Hell–“

“They know about her.” Lee cuts off San, panting. On the other side, Lee was rushing to his office as he pointed to his men where to go and what to do. San sat up as he processed his words, his voice caught in his throat. “San,” Lee stops in his tracks, “they will kill her.”

San stayed quiet, his eyes roaming around in the darkness. They found you. They know of you. It’s only a matter of time before they get you. San felt so overwhelmed in his emotions—everything he tried to suppress just dissolved into raw, unrelenting anger that he didn’t know to react.

He just went blank.

“San? Are you ther–“ he hangs up the phone causing Lee to let out a scream of frustration as he calls him again but it went straight to voicemail. San removed his blanket, adrenaline shooting in his veins as he storms to the back of the safe house.

His breathing was starting to get uneven as he grabbed a sledgehammer that was leaning against the wall. And with one heavy swing, he shattered the concrete floor—fragments fly out with each stroke that got harder and angrier than the previous one.

Soon enough, a hidden compartment was revealed. He kneeled on the floor, removing the rubble with his hand as he puts in a code to which the box unlocks revealing a variety of weapons—firearms, knives, ammunition.

His fingers traced over the weapons with precision as he selected the ones he needed. He walked back and forth as he gently placed each weapon on the floor on top of a rag in the center of the room.

He throughly cleaned each gun and ensured each were working in order. He moved with swiftness as he tested the mechanics—sharpening the knives, moving them in his hand to make sure they are comfortable in his grip. He loaded the magazines with ease, wanting to make sure everything was perfect for tonight.

This was the most terrifying state San has been. His mind was blank, no expression on his face, emotions were just gone. All he can focus on was one singular thing—every one of them must die. He wasn’t going to wait any longer, he will take them by surprise tonight.

Once everything was prepared, he got dressed in all black, adjusting the straps of his tactical gear, checking each weapon holstered at his side. He sling the bag that carried the guns and started to leave but not before he spotted an extra knife on the table.

He grabs it and looks up at the photo of the man who he was going to kill tonight. In one swift throw, aiming it between the eyes, it landed right where he wanted it. He was out for blood.

—

San had stormed into the abandoned factory that served as their hideout. Under the cover of the night he moved like a ghost through the shadows. He was like a predator who was silent and deadly with nothing to lose. The dagger in his hand gleamed in the dim light as he gripped it tightly, his gun holstered on his hip.

The first man never saw it coming—San approached him from behind, quickly covering the man’s mouth he jabbed the knife into his throat. He slowly and gently laid the body down without any noise, removing the knife as moved to his next location with precision with sharp eyes scanning every corner.

San hid as he counted the amount of men standing around. But soon enough he heard the commotion of voices yelling that someone intruded the warehouse which made the standing men on guard as they looked around, spotting San. “Over there!”

Gunfire erupted as they all pointed in the direction of San, but he didn’t flinch at the sounds instead he returned the fire with accuracy—watching the bodies drop one by one. His adrenaline was so high he didn’t even feel the bullet that grazed his arm.

Finally, one man left and unfortunately for him, he was all out of bullets. But fortunate for San as he grabs him and pins him against the wall, the man quickly surrendering as he lifts his trembling hands in fear. “Where is he?” San growled at the man with a gun to his forehead.

The just let out incoherent whimpers in fear as he shook his head. San didn’t have time to deal with this so he just knocked the guy out with the end of the gun and let him drop to the floor as he moved on. The further he moved in the building, the more the bodies piled up. Not once did he hesitate nor falter in his actions.

San was blinded by anger—he saw red in everything. With every face, San raised his weapon against it. It wasn’t until every single one of the men were either knocked out or dead. Finally, he reached the main office at the end of a hall to which he kicked open the door with such force that it almost came off its hinges.

Inside, cowering behind the desk, was the leader of the operation-His last target. He yelled in fright at the sound of the door slamming against the wall. He peaks over the table and lets out a shaky breath as he slowly stands up, raising his hands in surrender.

San slowly steps inside, eyes trained on the man, blood soaked into his clothes dripping on his hands as he grips the knife. The flickering bulb in the room made him appear even more terrifying, few cuts on his face-light casting shadows on his face with each movement towards the man.

The man lets out a nervous chuckle, hands still raised. "San," he gives him a nervous smile, “P-please,” the man stammered, his voice shaking. “We didn’t mean— I mean, I didn’t—”

He falls to his knees and bows as tears fall to the floor when San walks around the table and stands in front of him. The man looks up to san and collapsed his hands together, pleading to him. “P-please, San… I-I didn’t mean it! I never touched her! It—it was just leverage! Just words!”

San stayed silent as his sharp eyes bore into the crying man. He grabs his knife and slowly turns it in his hand making it catch the faint glint of the light. He crouches down to the man's level, lifting his chin up with the tip of the knife. “I spent the last five years making sure she was protected,” San spoke lowly, “Yet you still tried to make her part of your sick game. Thinking of her to begin with was your first mistake.”

San feels something within him come undone as he grabs a fistful of hair and aggressively forces the man up, causing him to scream out in pain and fear. San shoved him to the chair behind him and stabs the knife into his thigh, “You know what happens to men like you?” He whispered taunting him, leaning close to his face.

The man lets out a blood curdling scream, lips quivered as he stammered out, “I—please, I’ll leave the country! I’ll disappear! I’ll—”

San lets out a manic laugh as he stood up, "You'll disappear?" He mocked the man. "You're right. You will disappear and I will make sure of it." San said emotionless.

He slides out another knife from behind and stabs through the man's hand and wooden chair rest making him scream. “You think you can threaten her and walk away breathing?” San grabs the man by the side of his face and shoved his head to the side and repeatedly slams his head against the desk.

He lets him go and watched the man lean back in the chair catching his breath. San grabs him by the shirt and the man starts to sob out, “It wasn’t me! It—it was the others! I swear!”

San tilts his head to the side slightly, giving him a faint humorless smile. "The others are dead." His voice low, "All that is left is just you."

He lets him go and takes out his gun, "You know, you talk so much shit yet," San looks at him, "you're nothing but a coward. Threatening to harm the woman I love just to get to me? Pathetic." He spat out.

The man starts screaming out in agony and fright when he sees San preparing the gun and cocking it back—his scream echoed the empty halls. He circled around the man like a predator stalking its prey. “You don’t understand, please!” The man shouted as he gasped for air from the overwhelming pain he’s in. “I didn’t mean it! I was never going to hurt her or kill her! I promise you!”

"You think I give a fuck about what you meant?" He spat at him. “You wanted to hurt her,” San said, his tone dropping dangerously low. “And I’ll make sure no one will ever speaks of her name again.”

He extends his are out and the cold metal touched the forehead of the man, his finger resting lightly on trigger. The man widens his eyes, desperation flickers behind them a he shakes his head, “Please I–“

The sound of the gunshot resonated throughout the room and then—silence. San stumbles back in exhaustion and lets out a sigh of relief. He is free. He feels the weight coming off his shoulders. He can come home to you.

—

San staggers out the building, feeling his adrenaline leaving as he limps side to side. Holding onto his arm, feeling the pain of the graze and his body screaming in aching pain. His breaths were short and sharp as he tried keeping his vision clear.

The faint roaring of engines from the distance reached his ears making him look up. He squints at the bright headlights coming close. Soon black trucks speed to the scene, tires screeching as they come to a sudden stop, doors sliding open as men poured out the cars in suits and weapons attached to their bodies rushed past him and into the building.

San didn't even have to look to know who it was. He was just focused on making sure his legs don’t give up on him as his vision started blurring from exhaustion. A sleek black car skidded to a halt in front of him causing him to stop in steps. Lee then emerges out the car with a worried look on his face as he rushed to San.

“San!” Lee’s voice was sharp but softened as he reached him. Lee quickly removed his coat and draped it over San and without hesitation, pulled him into his embrace. Feeling safe now, San's legs give out, both of them sinking to the ground as Lee held him tightly. "It's over, son," Lee said softly in his ear, voice filled with relief that he was okay. "It's over."

San didn't respond immediately, his head resting against Lee's shoulder as he closed his eyes and let out a sigh through his shallow breaths, "It's over." San said hoarsely, a single tear fell down his cheek, cutting through the blood and slightly stinging the small cuts.

Everything was blur as San started to close his eyes of exhaustion. Lee's men shouting and rushing to secure the scene before the police came. Lee yelling for medical treatment for San and soon enough they draped his arms over their shoulders and helped him up and into the car.

Finally, he can go back to you.

—

HE RETURNS

It's been a week since everything has finally ended. San stands outside in his car, staring at what use to be his home for the past five years-the safe house. He nods, thinking to himself that it is time to go. He gets into car and drives off—leaving this part of his life for good.

The welcome sign of your city gets him both nervous and excited. He puts on the turning signal as he pulled into the parking lot of a small, cozy hotel and checks in. He places his bags down on the floor and unlocks the door, taking in the room. He breaths in and breaths out, happy to be back in somewhat of normalcy.

He grabs his bags and placed them on the small sofa near the window. He wasted no time in unpacking and making the room feel settled in. After he was done, he grabbed a white envelope and checks inside before tucking it in his jacket. There is something important he needs to take care of.

—

The bells chimed softly as San stepped inside the jewelry shop. He takes in the smell of of the shop as he scans the variety of cases that display beautiful shimmering gems and jewels of every color you can imagine.

"May I help you, sir?" A sweet lady comes up to him with a warm smile and hands behind her back.

San takes off his glasses and looks at her, returning a smile. "Yes," he cleared his throat. Despite the nerve wrecking feeling in his chest, her grandmotherly presence help put him at ease a bit. "I'm looking for an engagement ring. But it needs to be elegant, unique, or—no—special. Something special." His voice softened as he rambled a bit, scratching the back of his head.

The woman covered her lips with her hand as she chuckled lightly. "No need to worry," Her eyes twinkled with understand as he reassured him. She beckoned him to follow her to a display case, "Come. Let's see what we can find for you."

_

It must've been hours at this point and San has never been more confused over raindrop shape or pear shape, square or cushion. It felt like smoke was coming out of his ears, feeling stressed over wanting to get the perfect ring for you as the woman carefully laid out a selection of rings, explains the cuts, the settings, and the stones.

But throughout this whole process, his eyes kept drifting to a particular ring—a large square shape with two small ones on each side with a platinum band with smaller diamonds that twinkled like stars on it.

"That one." he said pointing to it. "That's the one for her." He felt the ring calling to him.

The woman's eyes followed his finger and smiled when she spotted the one he was talking about. She smiled as she went to unlock the case and grabbed the ring, placing it in front of him. “This is our timeless, exquisite piece. Made and crafted for someone special.”

He grabs the ring and brings it up the light. He loves the way it gleams like your eyes. This is the one for you. "She is. She's... my everything." He tells her as he placed the ring back down.

The woman reaches over and patted his arm gently, “She’ll love it.” Her expression softened.

_

"Good luck, my dear." She cleaned the ring and placed it securely into the velvet box with gloves. "I can tell she's going to say yes." She said as she hands it to him.

He places his sunglasses back on and pockets the velvet box, giving her a smile. "Thank you." He slides her a while envelope, "This is for you by the way." He tells her.

"Oh?" She tilts her head to the side slightly. She looks down and opens it, eyes widening at the amount of money inside, "Sir, I–" She stops in her words when she scans the room, but he is nowhere to be found.

—

It was a few days later and San stood in the distance as he blend in with the parents who were waiting for the school's dismissal. Soon enough the bell echoed throughout the school as kids bursted out with squeals of excitement and parents calling out their kid's name.

San immediately spots you as you opened your classroom door with a bright smile—the same one that captivate him years ago. He watched as you knelt down slightly as you said goodbye to each child with a smile and high five, some with hugs. He couldn't help but to also smile as he saw you in your element, watching you wave to a little girl who ran off giggling.

Your laugh was a melodic sound that he has missed for so long. Slowly the crowd starts to disperse, but he stays rooted in his spot. Finally, after some time, you step out of your classroom, locking it up. He felt time stopping as he watched you let down your hair, running a hand through it as you walked. His breath hitched—you're so beautiful.

It’s like the first day he saw you all over again causing him to be all lovestruck but then—your movements stilled as your eyes narrowed at him direction. He felt his pulse quickening when he saw that you had noticed him.

If it wasn't from the blinding sun and the silver fence that wrapped around the school that was obscuring your view, it would've been game over. His mind was screaming at him to run, to which he did as panic took over him. He got into his car and slammed the door shut, hands on the steering well and he exhaled sharply. “Fuck, that was close.”

—

He knows he shouldn't be doing this, but he can't help it. Although, his job is completed, he can't help but to still act in secret. He sneaked into your apartment, wanting to waste no more time and to confess everything to you. His movements were quiet and calculated as he slipped inside, gently closing the door, hearing a soft click.

The moonlight casted into the dark living room, illuminating some spots. Everything he saw was a reflection of you and it made his chest ache. He lifts his head when he hears the sound of water running—she must be showering.

He lets out a slow breath and moved deeper around the apartment with cautious steps. As he turned towards the kitchen, his foot ended up being caught at the corner of the rug making him stumble slightly causing the floor to creak underneath him. He froze, noticing that the shower had stopped.

He then moves to the kitchen, floor creaking with another step causing him to freeze again. His breath hitched in throat as the silence fills up the air. He can hear his heart thudding in his ears when the door of the bathroom creaks open, seeing the light shining in the hallway.

He then heard the faint sounds of your footsteps slowly walking down the hallway. His heart sinks when he sees the gun in your hands—lightly trembling as you stopped in the middle of the entrance.

He watches as your hands move frantically with every shadow you think you see in the room. He feels heartbroken knowing that he is the reason you have a gun—the reason you are like this-he just wants to explain everything to you and hopes that you understand why he did all that he did.

He slowly takes a step back causing the floor to creak once more. He mentally cursed at himself when he saw you pointing the gun to the kitchen, voice full of anger. “Show yourself.”

Slowly, he emerged from the shadows with his hands up. He felt nervous and terrified of the outcome. The way your voice slightly trembled when you asked him who he was, broke him. He closed his eyes and exhaled light, taking one step forward.

“S-San?”

THE END

[sulfies]

"Its 5 am"

A soft heat landed on Desmond's shoulders, he pulled the corners of the blanket closer.

"I know, I know... I should be asleep" He sighs scooting the chair back and leaning to look at the ceiling. "I will... sooner or later. I just, I really rather it be "later" "

"And I rather not see you like this."

He finally looked at Altaïr with a weak smirk.

"Oh I know just how you like to see me-" "Desmond..."

Desmond sighed. He was tired, exhousted, sad and many more, all of it just wanted to explode out of him but he just didn't know how.

"I..." He mouthed the words he wanted to say. "Just..." Leaning forward he put his head on his hands. "I don't want to... I-"

"You are scared..."

Desmond blinked hard, refusing the tears that wanted to fall.

"Why?"

He sucked in a hard breath. He was not going to cry about a problem of his own making.

"Desmond... Whatever you are scared of will not ha-"

He felt like a child throwing a tantrum. "God, I sound so stupid I know, but what if it does?" He wiped his face and looked back.

"Your body will do it for you if you don't."

A deep breath and he tried to speak more calmly to control the tremble in his voice. "I realize that... but if it gives me 1 more hour here..."

"Here? Alone in your room, miserable? I get why-"

"No you don't get why..."

Desmond turned back to the table, trying to carve a hole in the desk with his gaze alone. "You don't get why, Ezio doesn't get why, Connor doesn't get why! It is, literally, impossible for you guys to get it, okay?"

"At least let us try? But you won't even talk to us about it!" Altaïr was getting frustrated.

"How can I even start? I don't even know where I can begin. I barely even know this shit works myself!"

He just didn't want to blink and for it all to be gone, he did not want to see that grey, soulless place ever again. He hated it back then, he hated it even more now.

"If I sleep I might wake up" He shook his head, what a profound sentence he came up with.

"come again?"

"I-I don't want to lose this... Whatever this is and I don't know if I will! İts a gamble each time I go to sleep"

"Why would you lose us?"

A chuckle slipped past him "Come on Altaïr, why do I even have you guys now? For fucks sake I died! You were born thousands and thousands of years ago and now you are here! Same with the others! Nothing makes sense nothing ever feels real and I am scared it actually is not!" He dug his nails into his palm, he wanted to bang his head against a wall.

"I am so scared, in one second I will be finally happy and breathe, then the next second I will be back in that place. There is nothing there Altaïr, nothing. No sounds, not even your own breathing. At least the last time they gave me an island and... And 16 was there to keep me company but now if I go back I am scared that there will be nothing."

He took a breath, then another since it was getting harder to.

"I fucking died so, so, so many times. As you, As Connor and As Ezio. From age and my own mistakes. Then I died myself and sometimes I wonder if I actually did or if this is a sick joke and I am still in that goddamn machine that is sucking me for all I am worth just to keep me going!" His fist banged on the table, he wanted to wreck something. "Or maybe Juno is playing with me, showing me a piece of heaven before she spits on my corpse"

Two cold hands wrapped around his own, taking his gaze away from the desk he saw Altaïr with his brows in a concerned burrow, which was becoming a common expression he had whenever he was with him. "I will never know Altaïr and it scares me. For all I know you guys could be programs to make me spea-"

"Okay enough" The hands on his squeezed harshly, Altaïr moved his hands to pull Desmond's chair to the side so he could speak eye to eye.

"You cannot talk about my being like I am not here Desmond." He took a breath to collect himself as well "You are right, I might never understand but you don't get to tell me what I am when I am right in front of you, you don't get to tell me I can't try to understand. I feel real to myself and you feel damn real to me" His hand holds Desmond's cheek.

"but if you keep up like this I'm not sure how long you can keep yourself from going insane to the point of no return. You can't live like this." Desmond's lips became a thin line. "I don't want you to live like this, I know me or any of us being here is not normal but nothing ever was. An orb, holding mind-controlling powers and secrets to the time itself is not normal, Ancient beings leaving a message through us to you is not normal. Do you think I, myself don't think this is too good to be real?" His other hand squeezed Desmond's knee, he sighed and continued, at least Desmond was listening for now.

"Nothing ever is normal in the life of an Assassin and if it was I would never have you. So don't take this away from me by deciding that this-" he gestured between them. "Is temporary"

He placed a small kiss on Desmond's salty cheek only to hear a sob spill out of the man. "We are all riddled with the same fear, yours is..." He could not even begin to comprehend from what little Desmond had told them.

He drew him into a hug "I wonder many nights if this is a last dream from the apple for keeping it safe, If it will end one day before I rest forever in my tomb filled with books."

Desmond was crying now, silently as he could but Altaïr could feel the damp patch on his shoulder "And if it is a last thank-you gift I rather spend every grain of that hourglass with you by my side, stop torturing yourself. If it is a limited time we have together, enjoy it with me" A shakey breath and a sob slipped from Desmond as the damp patch grew.

Altaïr held him through the shaking and pain, in a sick way he was happy to at least hold Desmond after so long and have him for just himself for a little while.

He was lucky, unlike Desmond all of them chose death on their own terms and tasted it slowly. Not with a bang and flash of lights but with a much-needed rest, in a slumber.

"Come, Ill kee-"

Oh...

He realized the hug had much more weight to it than before.

With a slight smile, he sighed in relief, Desmond's body made the choice for him it seemed.

"Ill keep guard for you Desmond, alright?"

He smiled softly and brushed the passed-out man's hair. Sometimes he forgot that while Desmond lived decades in their body he only got to see two of his own life.

He dragged Desmond more into himself and lifted him up softly to walk to his room.

If needed to be he would gladly take the burden of being awake forever to put him at ease.

[artificialstardust]

Dad Folio Headcannons

This shit is on the fucking brain rn and I’m about to throw myself into a brick wall because of it so enjoy my brainrot

He’d say “hey mama” as he hugs you from behind, putting his hands on your belly

He’d also do the thing where he’d gently lift your belly for you as he stands behind you to give your back a break for a bit

Him asking Bryan to take your maternity picture because he only trusts him to do it right

He would for sure make sure you always have ice water, any snacks, extra pillows and blankets, and anything else you’d want

You have to tell him to quit going crazy buying baby stuff from bass pro and Harley Davidson because you’re worried the kid won’t even get to wear half the stuff since they’ll grow so fast

Definitely plays them the drum track he just recorded (both in and out of utero)

As soon as the kid take an interest in toys, he’s buying them a little toy fishing pole, the drum kit comes later

This one is based off of something I had when I was a kid, but he’d get them a little battery powered motorcycle when they’re 3-5 (I had a pink one with purple saddle bags. Loved that shit)

If he has a son, he’s showing them how to be a good man and person. Sometimes doing matching outfits because he thinks it’s fun. Definitely eggs him on to be a menace sometimes, but only when it’s something lighthearted

If he has a daughter, he’s showing her how a man should act and teaching her how to stand up for herself and defend herself if need be. He wants to know that his babygirl won’t take shit from anyone. He’d also match his fits to hers sometimes too, he’d also be invested in playing Barbie’s with her

He absolutely loves to curl up on the couch or in bed with you and the babe, definitely a favorite past time for him

He’s a very involved parent, from where he does travel a lot being in the band, when he is home and can be there, he is there. Is also very attentive and remembers everything that his kid(s) love

He for sure raises them on the music he listens to

Also doesn’t like the modern day cartoons so he’s putting on stuff he watched as a kid. Ngl I feel like he’d be big on max and ruby but that’s just a vibe I get

Also makes sure that they talk to their uncles regularly, he wants the guys to be involved in his kid’s/kids’ life/lives

And if he’s been away and comes back, he will make you relax and not do anything because you deserve a break so he can handle it all. He loves the person that gave him children, so he always reminds you of that.

There is no “I can’t, I’m watching the kids tonight” if someone asks him to do something. It’s “I can’t tonight, I’m chilling out with the kids. We’re going to watch a movie, play some games and make a mashed potato mountain with Dino nuggets so mama can enjoy her night out”

He also teaches his kids that it’s okay to show emotion and to feel things

He supports anything they do (as long as it’s legal), he just wants them to be happy

[artbyblastweave]

So in the original 1977 run of What if...?, issue 44 covered the topic of "what if Captain America wasn't discovered in the ice until the 1980s." And the answer is that in the interim, a fascist, segregationist junta comes to power in the USA using the assistance and iconography of William Burnside- the white-supremacist reactionary successor to Captain America who was created by Marvel editorial to retroactively explain Cap's handful of abortive appearances as a red-scare communist hunter in the 1950s, when he was supposed to be in the ice. Most of the superheroes get neutralized, assassinated or co-opted, the real Cap is rescued by the crew of a Navy Sub that's on the verge of defection, and the comic ends on the verge of the second American Civil War. The issue oscillates rapidly between competent, prescient commentary and the exact cornball pablum you'd expect from a bronze-age one-shot trying to suss out the "real meaning of America", but either way I've always been interested in this branch of the Marvel universe getting more than just the one issue of table-time. Superpowered urban civil war in 1980s America is a compelling concept!

One of the reasons I like this comic is that it's one of several works from the late 70s/early 80s - mainline Captain America itself among them- that hit upon the idea that it would be comically easy to sell the American populace on strongman authoritarianism if it came wrapped in a cape and domino mask. This scene is an example of that; "Captain America" at a rally parading his team of all-American jackboots. Two of the members are, to the best of my knowledge, new characters: Golden Girl (later called out as an untrained actress kept on the lineup to illicit a very specific strain of nostalgia for Bettie-Page styled cheesecake) and embodied-specter of racist violence The Hangman (who... might be black, based on this coloring job? Potentially either very smart or very stupid depending on the level of thought put into it). But rounding out the lineup you've got... Hawkeye, which is the beat from this comic that I really like and the reason I decided to write this post.

Because Hawkeye, Clint Barton, has developed over time into the default scrappy underdog hero that gets to be one of the holdouts in dystopian alternate-universe situations like these- Old Man Logan, House of M, Next Avengers, Age of Ultron, What If...? S1ep8, Spider-Man: Renew Your Vows, Age of Apocalypse, Marvel Universe Vs. The Avengers, these are just off the top of my head. It's a fun contrast, the dynamic of the "shit, man, this superhero war is fucked" hardscrabble carnie being the last man on the wall against something that would give Superman pause. So they do it a lot. Not here, though! And there's a level of honesty to that that I really appreciate. We're dealing with a guy who became a superhero in the first place because he was annoyed that Iron Man upstaged his carnival act, he almost immediately pivoted and agreed to try and kill Iron Man because an attractive woman asked him to, he tries to steal the armor to sell it, and even when he initially went straight there was an undercurrent of celebrity pursuit and showboating to his decision to join The Avengers. Absent the character development that was a direct result of falling in with the real Steve Rogers, all the assumptions about the character that have formed downstream of that, is it that insane that a guy with his early mercenary characterization would throw in with a fascist regime that paid him well and let him peacock? I don't think so!

[writingwisterias]

another one sorry 😔 when leon and you are fucking but you’re on top of him, taking control and you get tired so you ask him to help and suddenly he just fucks you at the speed of light. like i mean fast as shit making you unable to think and your mouth is just open and he suddenly stops and you just look at him like he’s done the most insane thing and he just smiles at you while you’re still trying to collect your thoughts

(also just a silly random thing. imagine him trying to be all romantic and shit and he throws you on the bed but you end up hitting your head on the wall and he just runs over to you laughing (obviously concerned) asking if your okay😭 idk i feel like it’s such a leon thing to do)

-🪑

Omg yes! He would be great at a quick fuck. Like if he got interrupted half way through sex with a phone call or something he's not leaving until he's finished with you.

And the second one is the soo Re2 leon! He would be so clumsy but cute during sex.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

I just saw you were taking requests! :D Lately, I've been obsessing over Buck's and Dally's relationship. Do you think you could write something about them? Preferably a sickfic/whump, but no worries if not.

@fefe-the-cat I HOPE THIS DOES YOU JUSTICE!!! This is where I kinda admit I've never thought much about Dally 'n Buck but this was fun to explore!! TYSM for the ask!!! fic below the cut!!

CW: mentions of vomit and throwing up!! nothing graphic!!

Dallas rolls over, grabs the bucket he'd stolen from the shed 'n brings up the only thing left in his stomach: bile. Waves of nausea roll over him, causin' his shoulders to buck 'n his elbows to buckle from where he's tryin' to hold his weight. He lets himself collapse face down on the bed, buryin' his face in his sheets.

Shit.

He doesn't know why he thought he'd be over this by now. Glory, kill him now. He'd felt like shit yesterday mornin' when he'd woken up thrown unceremoniously into the back bedroom at Buck's. He hadn't been surprised, per say. Wakin' up at Buck's almost certainly meant he'd gotten piss drunk the previous night without one of the gang to drag his sorry ass back to Darry. He'd chalked the sickness in his stomach and heaviness in his limbs to forgettin' to stop before the tequila shooters.

That had become a harder beleif to hold as he crawled into bed last night feelin' worse then when he'd started. By the time he woke up this mornin' heavin' dinner he'd accepted it.

He finally stops chokin' on nothin' 'n sits up and against the wall. He was beginnin' to really regret not just draggin' his ass to the Curtis' place. But he didn't want to do that to Darry. He wasn't that selfish. If he wound up on their porch with the bug he'd pass it to Pony who would give it to Soda, would pass it over to Steve who'd hot potato it to Johnny and it would swiftly wind up with Two and finish out strong with Darry. Sickness made the ranks of the gang like clockwork.

No, he was determined to figure this one out himself. He'd be fine.

Dallas dragged his head off the mattress, instantly heavin' again. Fuck, how Darry could take care of all six of them without losin' his mind was beyond Dallas.

A knock pounds on the door and Dallas runs a hand over his mouth to wipe away the bile, scrubs over his face, pushes back his hair. "I'm not runnin' the fuckin' ponies today, Buck, piss off."

He's not necessarily surprised when, instead of retreatin', the door flies open. Not shocked but still irate. Buck stands in the doorway lookin' pissed as all get out before he gets a good look at Dallas. He softens instantly, cockin' one eyebrow.

"You look like shit." Dallas rolls flat onto his back, stares at the celin'.

"Gee, thanks." He pushes himself to sit when Buck doesn't leave. "Fuck off, I'm fine." Buck rolls his eyes. Well, that was new. Usually, when Dallas told him to get lost he'd mutter about some fuckin' kid who thought he could order his grown ass around 'n then promptly get lost.

"Move over." Buck crosses the room in three strides, not that it was impressive, the room was practically a renovated closet. Dallas was more amused with the fact it took him that many.

"Buck, leave me alone. I feel like shit, I'm not runnin' those fuckin' horses." Dallas squeezes his eyes shut 'n bites down hard to keep his teeth from chatterin'.

"Yeah, no shit." He nearly jumps out of his skin when Buck's hand comes down on his forehead. He snaps his eyes open again, bats his hand away.

"Buck, get the hell out of here, would ya?" He tries again. Buck pulls the cig that's burnin' down to nothin' from his mouth, stamps it out on the bottom of his boot, and tosses it out the open window. He reaches over 'n wiggles it shut. "I wanted that open." Dallas shoots him a glare even though he was gonna close it himself the second he got the man out of his room.

"That's probably why you got sick to start with. Close the fuckin' windows in winter, why doncha?" He rolls his eyes and sounds too much like Darry for comfort. Dallas kicks him in the thigh.

"I'm not sick." Buck actually laughs in his face.

"Sure. Do you vomit on the weekends for fun now?" He kicks the bucket Dallas dropped to the floor. Dallas glares at him. "Look, I'll go get that Darry guy, he can come scrape you off the ground." Buck goes to walk out 'n Dallas snags a hand around his wrist quick as quick.

"Leave Darry out of this." Buck stops, fixes him with a stare. "I don't want him to worry or nothin'."

Well. That wasn't the answer Buck had expected.

"Fine." He shakes Dallas' hand off 'n Dally lets it drop to the bed. "But I'm not gonna let you die in my back room. Bad for business." Dallas rolls his eyes but doesn't argue. Buck disappears into the hall, returns with a thermometer.

"I don't need that shit. I'm fine." Buck shoots him an incredulous look Dallas pointedly ignores.

"I don't really care if you think you don't need it. Either you're openin' up for it to I'll get Darry down here to open your mouth for you." Dallas scowls as Buck plays the only card in his hand. He wasn't sure what Darry Curtis had on the rabid dog that was Dallas Winston but whatever it is, does the trick. Dallas leans over 'n snatches the thermometer, shovin' it into his mouth. "Now keep it there. God knows it'll be hard since you can't ever seem to keep your mouth shut." Dallas shoots him a glare 'n he doesn't need words to convey how close he is to kickin' Buck's ass. Buck just grins.

After a long minute, Buck plucks the glass from Dallas' mouth 'n checks the readin'. He lets out a long, low whistle. "Holy shit, kid."

Dallas momentarily stops scowlin' 'n Buck swears he hasn't seen the vulnerable look on his face since Dallas was fourteen 'n rollin' into Tusla with an accent so strong you couldn't understand a damn thing he said and the hunted look of someone much, much older.

"I think you're out for the count, kid." Dallas is still so focused on the red line he forgets to be agitated with Buck for callin' him a kid. Buck puts one hand on his chest 'n pushes him back down to the pillows.

"What does it say?" Dallas puts up a decent, three-second fight before he goes white 'n grabs for the bucket. Buck worries his lip, runs a hand up the kid's back.

"Says you're sick, dumbass." Buck sighs, stands up once Dallas shoulders stop shakin'.

"Don't go." Dallas' hand snakes out again, this time fingers diggin' deep into Buck's wrist. He freezes, takes in Dallas' gaunt face, his sudden desperation.

"I'm not goin'. I'm gettin' you a glass of water since you've been yackin' nothin' since yesterday." Dallas hesitates a moment 'n Buck doesn't try to pry his fingers off.

"Fine. But don't you dare come back here with medicine. I won't take none of that nasty shit." Buck rolls his eyes and crosses back to the door.

"You'll take whatever I want you to so I don't have to have the cops carry your skinny ass out of here in a body bag." Buck pretends he doesn't see the middle finger Dallas throws as he leaves the room.

When he comes back the kid is suddenly much more subdued than he was when Buck left. Buck deposits the shot glass of cold syrup and water on the nightstand.

"What is it, kid?" Dallas leans back against the wall, pulls his knees up to his chest.

"Buck, am I gonna die?" And the question jars Buck so hard he chokes on whatever he was gonna say.

"Are you gonna what?" Dallas turns the full force of his cold, ice eyes to Buck.

"Die." He deadpans.

"What the hell made you think some little cold is gonna knock off the unkillable Dallas Winston?" Buck smooths a strand of white blonde hair from his forehead. He knows he must really be feelin' whatever bug he's caught when he doesn't fight it at all.

"I dunno. I don't get sick. Last time was... New York." He trails off, buries his head down in his knees. He doesn't need to clarify what he means.

"Yeah, well." Buck picks up the glass, forces it into Dally's hands. "This time you got people lookin' out for you. Ain't no stupid bug gonna kill you, kid."

Dallas takes the cup, swallows a tentative sip. "I guess."

"Look. You're tired. You're half delirious if the nonsense you're spittin' says anythin'. Just try to go to sleep. You'll wake up feelin' better." Buck takes the water, swaps it for the shot glass of medicine. Dallas knocks it back like he shoots vodka- makin' a face 'n then pretendin' he enjoyed it.

He eases Dallas back onto the bed, decides fuck it, the kid was as much Darry's problem as he'd once been Buck's. A million years ago. He'd call him once he got the kid down.

Dallas' eyes flicker shut, blonde lashes fannin' across his cheeks. Buck smooths his hair back one final time, pulls the blanket up 'n over him.

He's nearly out of the room when he hears Dalla's hoarse mutter. "What is it, kid?"

"Thanks, Buck. For everythin'." Buck isn't sappy or nothin' 'n if you asked he'd swear he had no idea what you were dreamin' up. But if he wipes a tear off his cheek as he pulls the door closed, well, it was deserved. He had a soft spot in his heart for that stupid kid. Sue him.

[toxic-teller]

Untitled Batfam/Squid Game cross over fan fic

Summary: a sad fan fic where the batfam are in a squid games-esc game playing dodgeball and it comes down to Jason and Tim as the last players on each side but Tim is too scared to say anything so it’s up to Jason to decide whether his team lives or dies and I gave the surviving Robin crippling survivors guilt as they refuse to open their eyes and witness their brother dead on the floor.

Background info: This is chapter 3 of a WIP a few people asked me to post. Basically Bat fam in a squid games situation were forced to split up into two to play dodgeball. They didn’t get to choose the teams and they get one minute to strategize before the game started. The transparent wall kills anyone who crosses it. All of which is explained in chapter one that I haven’t written yet lol. Not important but the teams are Alfred, Tim, Stephanie, Damian, Roxy Rocket, Harley Quinn, Deathstroke, Penguin, and Two Face. The others are Bruce, Selina, Jason, Tiffany, Lucius, Kate, Riddler, Killer Croc, and Scarecrow. If there are any grammar mistakes, just know I’m illiterate. Enjoy!

Ever since they broke off into teams, Alfred had not taken his eyes off Bruce. And while Bruce had done an excellent job at hiding his grief for Dick and Luke, Alfred knew better. Bruce may have been putting on a Batman exterior, but his eyes held the same look as the recently orphaned eight year old latching onto his petticoat, unsure of how to answer Officer Gordon’s questions about his parents’ murder.

Unsure.

Seeing his younger master unsure was what terrified him the most. If it wasn’t for the transparent wall having split the court, Alfred would have been over with his adopted son helping him plan, but instead he was standing with his grandkids attempting to figure out what to do while those that terrorized their nightmares were trying to convince them to win instead of throwing the game.

“Oh please! Like they aren’t over there talking the same shit!” Penguin squawked. “They’re going to kill us all the second they get and be thrilled we’re dead!”

Stephanie clinched her hands, “we need to delay the game! As long as possible at least!”

Roxy laughed, “I’m with this one. Make it exciting!”

“Don’t be stupid,” Deathstroke snapped.

“Aw come on, Willy,” Harley pouted. “Don’t be mean. The poor girl just wants her fake family to rescue them! There’s no chance they will in time, but these hero types always have a hope in them that’s hard to shake.”

“Quinn,” Damian ordered, “please stop talking. We have less than a minute to plan.”

“Planning our own deaths,” Mad Hatter shot. “You hero types never pass up an opportunity to sacrifice yourselves for the greater good. No, we gotta throw all of them in the front lines and make sure they get out fast.”

“You want to throw the three most physically fit members of our team under the bus?” Deathstroke pointed out sarcastically. “Great idea.”

“Fuck you!” Stephanie snapped, raising a fist. “You had no problem pushing Dick down! If it wasn’t for you, he’d be alive!”

Deathstroke rolled his eye. “I told you, I slipped.”

Stephanie threw the first punch which lead to a loud argument of people holding each other back, screaming over each other, and otherwise preforming a mockery of teamwork. Alfred almost joined the fray before turning and noticing Tim was not in the circle. He was standing close to the barrier and staring ahead at the other team.

Alfred approached him, wincing from his now relocated shoulder. “Master Drake, is everything okay?”

Tim shook his head vaguely. “We’re going to die. All of us here. We’re all going to die.”

Alfred’s heart sunk into his stomach, but he kept a gentle expression. “Why do you say that?”

Tim gestured to Bruce in their much more cooperative group huddle. “Batman doesn’t know what to do. I’ve been watching him, Alfred. He hasn’t said a word in their meeting. He also hasn’t let any of us move far away from him. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. He’s trying to spend what little time he has left with us. I’ve seen him be less protective when Darksied nearly wiped all of humanity, but… he’s completely given up now.”

The lump in Alfred’s throat grew bigger. He placed his good hand on his shoulder and felt Tim shaking under his palm. “That doesn’t mean there’s no hope, Master Timothy.”

Tim shook his head. “Alfred, don’t try to pretend. We both know we’re not making it out of this school alive.”

Alfred didn’t know what to say as he secretly agreed. Fortunately, the whistle blew so he never had to come up with the words. “Planning period over. The game is about to begin. I repeat. Planning period over. The game is about to begin.”

Everyone got into a vague position to start. All of the inmates were at the front with the bat family further away from the center. Five balls dropped from the ceiling as a new ten minute timer started ticking down. The villains all ran for the balls and started throwing. Alfred and Lucius were not nearly young or healthy enough, and unsurprisingly were benched quickly. All the vigilantes were moving on instinct and muscle memory rather than a desire to live. Each time a ball got caught, someone else was called back in, but that was the only time the bat family spoke. Other than that, they were dodging as best as they could. The only two who were having any resemblance of fun was Harley Quinn and Roxy Rocket who couldn’t help but taunt and jeer at every person who got out. Once both were knocked out by a well aimed throw from Kate, the court was silent because of rule #3. It was obvious those on the bench wanted to say something, but none of them were willing to be shot just to make fun of someone being hit.

Reguardless of where they stood morally, both teams were all were nervous to be playing. All kept subconsciously glancing to Batman every few seconds for a way to get out of the situation entirely. Unfortunately, Batman was not playing the game. No matter how hard he tried, Bruce was the one on the court. Bruce found it impossible to ignore their glances at him for answers.

Similar to red light/green light, after each person was eliminated a whistle blew from no where and their name was called, except this time it wasn’t followed by a gunshot. That didn’t mean Bruce’s heart rate didn’t go up with each blow of the whistle. He kept seeing Dick’s face blown apart by a sniper rifle at too close range, hearing Luke’s chest ripped open by the same gun and Tiffany screaming in fear. Even Clayface and Bane perishing in an equally hideous display crossed his mind. He didn’t want anyone else to die, not even the Arkham inmates. It was senseless violence. All of it. Even then, as Two Face hurled a ball at Riddler’s bad leg with the intention of hurting him more, there wasn’t a reason for it.

Bruce kept trying to rationalize the scene. He was playing dodgeball in an elementary school with his family and enemies. That was the extent he could go. When he managed to get a ball in his hands, all he could think to do was roll it on the ground so no one got out. It was completely pointless. If that timer hit 0 everyone would be dead. Someone was going to have to decide who lives.

Bruce only became aware of his movements when he allowed himself to be hit by a disbelieving Tim who stood alone on the opposite side. Bruce didn't say anything and selfishly walked back to the stands. The ball that bounced off Bruce had rolled back to Tim’s side of the court, hitting his shoe.

“I-I thought he was gonna catch it,” Tim stuttered to the sole member of the other team.

Jason laughed humorlessly. “Bats not sacrificing himself for the greater good? You’re kidding yourself.”

Tim unsteadily picked up the ball at his feet, an unwilling passenger in his own body. He held the ball in his hand shaking violently but felt as though it was ten feet away. He could hear the countdown on the timer. He only had 42 seconds left on the clock. It wasn’t enough time. Less than a minute for half of his family to live. But which half? How does he choose? How could he? He was a teenager, a kid really. One side had more people, more members of his family. But he couldn’t let Damian, Alfred, or Steph die. But if he did let himself live with the others, the rogues had already declared their promise to kill them the moment Batman was dead. The inmates had a numbers advantage on them. They could easily overpower an elderly injured man and three kids who wouldn’t be able to defend themselves without Batman’s help. Tim felt everyone staring at him wanting to shout out their opinions and what he should do. He almost wished they could as it might have blocked out the sound of his beating heart.

“Jay… I can’t do this,” Tim whimpered, shaking where he stood.

Jason searched his mind for a sarcastic comment to shoot back at his brother to make him laugh, but he couldn’t come up with anything. “Tim… man, it’s gonna be alright,” Jason consoled.

“I… I can’t do it. I can’t. We’re all gonna die and it’s gonna be my fault but I can’t choose…”

“Don’t then,” Jason blurted out trying to give him some solace. “Throw it easy. I’ll either catch it or not. It won’t be your fault then, just mine.”

Tim shook his head, “no. We…. Jay it makes more sense for your side to live. Sacrificing yourself I get, but… the only way you have any chance to get out is Bruce and Lucius. We’re just kids over here, and they’re gonna kill us the second Bruce die-“ he stopped himself from finishing his sentence, having to take a deep breath to keep himself from completely breaking down. “But… I don’t want Damian to not grow up. I don’t want Steph to not see Cass again, I don’t want… I don’t want to-“ It was all he could say before sobbing.

“Tim,” Jason’s voice cracked. “There’s not enough time left…” Jason didn’t even realize he was talking, his lips moved without thinking. “E-either way one of us is dead. You don’t even have to choose anything! All of the balls are in your…are in your court, so no matter what… it’s me who has to decide…”

The gravity of it caught up to Jason in that moment. It really was up to him no matter what. Tim could throw whatever he wanted, but he had to either fight for his life or die for his brothers’. Tim was right. Unfortunately, there were more rational adults with more skills on his side. If there was any chance of getting out before the games ended it was with Lucius and Tiffany’s tech skills to override the locks, Selina’s stealth to steal a weapon, Kate’s martial arts skill, and Bruce’s planning. But that would mean…

Jason looked up and saw Steph smiling comfortingly and tears streaming down her face, Alfred standing dignified with Damian uncharacteristically vulnerable leaning up against his leg, refusing to look at the court. Tim was hugging the ball to his chest tightly, the only thing he could do at the moment, trying his best to keep from crying.

The clock was ticking down, now at ten seconds. Jason had to make up his mind quickly. He found Bruce’s eyes and quietly asked what to do. Bruce looked away and down at his hand in his lap clutching onto his wife’s. A small gesture that told Jason what he would do if the roles were reversed.

Jason turned to Tim and gave him a single nod. He had made his decision. Tim threw the ball up in the air and time seemed to freeze. All eyes were on the second Robin, watching his every moment. They saw his feet move to become more center with the ball, directly in its path.

There was the sound of the ball making impact. Jason closed his eyes and waited, the familiar feeling creeping up in him that death was about to come. Jason hated that the last image Tim would ever have of him would be of him shaking and terrified, but no matter what he did he could not manage to muster up a smile onto his face.

“It’s gonna be okay-“

BANG

BANG

BANG

BANG

BANG

BANG

BANG

BANG

BANG

No final words were granted. No goodbyes were given. One by one, the sound of bodies dropping to the floor echoed in the tiny gym. The former Robin’s eyes had shut tight with the first gun shot, not wanting to see his brother mutilated before him. He could feel his brother’s brain matter coating his hands and the blood soaking into his shirt but as long as his eyes were shut, everything was fine. As long as his eyes were closed his family was alive. As long as he didn’t look, almost all of his siblings were still standing.

He didn’t cry as he stood there. He couldn’t if he tried as his grip of reality started to pull away from him. This was his nightmare, his absolute nightmare. The former Robin couldn’t think of a worse scenario for him to be in. It was just up to him and his brother to choose the fates of his family. There was no way this was happening. Kidnapping almost his whole family to play children’s games to the death?! That’s completely insane. It may have been Gotham but-

Scarecrow.

It had to of been. He had to be under the influence of fear toxin. There’s no other way. It was the only thing that made any sense. It was all of his worst fears wrapped up into one. A high dose of fear toxin.

“This isn’t real,” he said out loud. “This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.” He repeated this over and over and over again, each time somehow shutting his eyes tighter and tighter, refusing to open them. He knew this couldn’t have been true, the timeline of events was too coherent to be a hallucination, but he could manifest it into being fake if he tried hard enough. He could make it true. He could make it so his brothers were alive. If he just repeated this, it would-

“It’s going to be alright,” a man’s voice said, clasping a firm hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to be alright.”

Jason snapped out of his trance to see the rubber ball still in his hands. There was the clear sign of skull and brain coating the outside of it, the last remainder he had of Tim. The transparent do-not-cross wall was already dividing the court, but Jason could not bring himself to look through it and instead stared down at the ball in his hand.

“I-I caught it…” Jason stated, holding it up to Bruce beside him. “I caught it.”

Bruce nodded, jaw tensed, swallowing a lump in his throat. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Jason looked right through Bruce. “I caught it…” he breathed out and lowered his arms. “I caught it…”

Bruce didn’t say anything, but instead wrapped his arms around his son and pulled him in tight. Jason did not hug him back. He didn’t seem to have noticed at all that he had moved. The ball in his hands was the only thing grounding him to reality as it was a fact that he caught the ball. He saved Bruce, Selena, Tiffany, Kate, and Lucius.

He caught the ball.

“I caught it,” Jason was still repeating over and over as Bruce gripped him tighter. “I caught it.”

“Thank God you did!” Ed Nigma scoffed, limping down the stands. “I was worried you were about to do something stupid.”

Jason didn’t hear him. His chin was resting on his adopted dad’s shoulder. The ball was pressing in under Bruce’s ribcage but similar to the last living Robin, he didn’t notice anything other than Jason’s grip on this world slipping away as he kept stating how he saved his life. Bruce was already numb from the moment he turned around and saw his oldest son had been shot in the head. His daughter, father, and other two sons shared the same fate.

Jason still hadn’t cried nor stopped repeating himself. It might have been better if he did either. Bruce didn’t know what to do or how best to comfort him. It was Bruce’s fault he was like this. Bruce purposefully tagged himself out, not so Tim would have a chance, but so he didn’t have to make the final decision.

“I… I caught the ball,” Jason finally differed slightly from his script. “I caught the ball.”

“It’s going to be okay, Jason,” Bruce comforted. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Bruce wished his voice wasn’t so monotone. It might have helped if he has some emotion, angry or sad, or anything. But Bruce pushed down all of his pain, all of his feelings. He didn’t allow himself to grieve, not yet. Not only was it unproductive, but he knew once he started crying he would never be able to stop. He had to focus on what he had, and all he had was four people outside this game presumably trying to break them out, a wife who he loved deeply, his one living cousin, one of his oldest friends and his loyal daughter, and one surviving son right in front of him who was unable to cope with the decision he made and would haunt him forever.

“You did nothing wrong,” Bruce repeated. “It’s going to be okay. You did nothing wrong.”

Bruce didn’t know how long they stood there repeating themselves over and over, each one not interrupting the other.

Eventually, a gentle hand was placed on Bruce’s back. “Sweetheart,” Selina consoled, “we should probably go before they kick us out.”

Bruce did not make a conscious effort to let go of Jason, but he found himself walking towards the gym door all the same, one arm wrapped around his son to guide him.

Jason was still clutching the rubber ball in his hand when the voice announcement came on overhead. “No taking game items outside of the playing field. I repeat. No taking game items outside the playing field.”

Selina unwrapped herself from Bruce’s side, stopping Bruce from taking a step out the door. “Jason,” Selina cautioned gently.

Jason looked through her and held up the rubber ball just like he did minutes earlier to Bruce. “I caught it.”

Selina smiled as warmly as she could. “I know. I know you did. We have to leave it behind now. Is that alright?”

Jason’s eyes went to the ball where a fragment of Tim’s skull was practically glued to it with now dried blood. “I…caught the ball…”

Selina reached out carefully and placed her hands as best as she could so she didn’t touch any gore on it. “I’m going to take this from you. Can I do that?”

Jason watched his own hands unwrap themselves from the ball and have it settle in Selina’s hands.

“Thank you, Jason,” Selina thanked before going back to the stands and gently placing it down on the bleachers so it didn’t make a sound.

“Y-yeah…” Jason mumbled, still holding his hands out as though nothing had been taken from him.

Bruce rubbed Jason’s arm for comfort and continued walking down the hallway once Selina was next to him again. The only sound down the hallway was Jason’s mutters of catching a ball getting quieter and quieter.

“B-B-Bruce?” Jason asked as they neared the corridor to the kindergarten classroom.

“Yes?” Bruce responded.

“I…I think I’m done,” Jason admitted. “Yeah, I don’t want to play any more games. I’m gonna… I just want to go home.”

Bruce stopped in the hallway and turned to be in front of him with Selina stopping a step behind Bruce. Bruce suddenly did not see a 19 year old Jason Todd standing in front of him, but rather the 12 year old Boy Wonder who just wanted to do good in the world. He didn’t know what else to do other than kneeling down to his knee and grabbing Jason’s arms. Bruce couldn’t think of what to say, but somehow the words came out of him. “You made a hard choice back there, Jay. No one would deny that. There was no right or wrong decision, only one that-.”

“They probably felt how I did…” Jason muttered.

Bruce felt his heart shatter as Jason’s eyes finally focused on him. “I…I made them watch the clock tick down to their deaths. They didn’t deserve that.” Bruce froze, finally understanding what Jason had been trying to tell him. He watched as Jason’s eyes shifted away from reality once more and stared off into the abyss. “I caught the ball…” Jason began repeating again.

The first tear fell out of Bruce’s eyes without him knowing. They were silently streaming down his face, knowing for a fact that this was his fault. He left the decision up to Jason. This was Bruce’s doing. And he would have to live with that for the rest of his life.

[happybirthdaynoah]

HABIT HEADCANONS </3 (Slight HabVin..) ((NOT PROOFREAD..))

- Proud Kleptomaniac. He shows his stolen items off to Vinnie ALL THE TIME. (Sometimes they're Vinnie's things too 😭)

- He steals so much that he subconsciously grabs small things from stores and stuff them in his pockets. He'll dig in his pockets later and wonder where these little things come from and talk about how he's "blessed" (Sarcastically)

- Doesn't sleep much, but when he does he sleeps for 12+ hours. He trained Evan's body to stay awake for very long periods of time, so he stays up for days and days on end.

- When he does sleep, he's very...erratic...to say the least. He'll either sprawl out with every limb in whatever which way or he'll be curled up like a kitty. <3

- SLEEP BITER. He bites and claws the pillows when he's asleep.

- Calls Vinnie his little bunny rabbit, just because he's "special" to him

- Bites Vinnie when he's "stressed"

- He doesn't feel much emotion beside anger and total euphoria and all that psychotic stuff.

- He's studied human beings for years, just to get a grip on how people act so he can act "normal" while he's possessing someone

- He's a cannibal, if you disagree argue with the wall. (/j)

- He LOVES pinning his victims down while choking them out, he likes feeling like he's in total control.

- If he can't control a situation he'll just dip the fuck out and disappear until it fizzles out.

- LOVES MAKING PEOPLE PARANOID. He'll go out in public and whisper at people and then walk away into a crowd.

- Can mask his presence pretty well, he knows how to act like Evan, he uses it to fuck with Vinnie sometimes 😭 

- EATS A TON WHEN HE'S ANGRY. He'll literally walk his ass to a fast food place and mumble and talk to himself about how angry he is while eating.

- Voices his every thought and opinion, couldn't care less about people saying shit to him because he'll just hunt them down and torture them.

- His love languages are physical touch and giving gifts, but he's not very. normal. about it.

- By gift giving I mean, literally handing you someone's organs with that dorky smile he has.

- As for physical touch, he'll bite, scratch and literally slap you and act like nothing happened 😭

- He also loves to…stare…at people when they sleep…He likes to observe their behaviour and vulnerability

- He won’t admit it but he’s attached to Vinnie, maybe it’s just Evan’s presence looming over him though..

- When he eats he growls like a wild animal and his favorite foods to eat are anything meaty (He prefers raw meat but doesn’t mind cooked meat)

- Back to my last point, he usually eats anything raw when he’s alone. He trained Evan’s body to handle raw food without getting sick

- When he IS sick he’s a big fucking baby about it, he’ll whine and complain every. single. second.

- If he ever gets the vomit-y flu he’ll cry when he throws up, like BAWLING. He doesn’t know why, but he just does.

- He LOVES those stupid TLC shows, like Extreme Couponing, Sister Wives and all that stuff.

- He does this thing where he hunches over and walks around creepily, he calls it “prowling.” He does it in the dark for fun.

followfor part 2 !!!! trust !!!