#but he definitely has that in him fight me about this

[dollishmehrayan]

# “THE WOMAN WAS TOO STUNNED TO SPEAK…” ── .✦ ( batboys w an unhinged!reader and blunt!reader )

a/n: this is from my little brain of mine , and I like to honor it for @kyriakis anywhoo I’m back and omg 1k?! Alsoo guys dw! I’m gonna do the event tomorrow && I’m gonna pick out some prompts I have organized, so i didn't forget okay but i just got a lot of DMs asking when I’m gonna do it for you guyss so yeah it’s gonna be tomorrow since I’m gonna re-edit + add some ideas of your guys votes!! Tags: (batboys x unhinged!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He’s always caught off guard but loves it. Your bluntness is a breath of fresh air for Dick, who’s so used to diplomatic conversations. You say whatever’s on your mind with zero filter, and he’s like, “Oh, wow. Okay. I respect it.”

Hates it when you don’t hold back with him. He’s used to being the charming, funny guy who makes everyone laugh, but you hit him with a “That was dumb, don’t do that again” and his brain short circuits for a second. “You can’t just say that!” “Why not?”

Finds it hilarious when you wreck other people’s egos. You have zero time for anyone’s nonsense, and when someone messes up, you let them know. Dick’s in the background, trying not to laugh. “Do you not think before you speak?!…” He’s always acts so shocked but hey, he’s kinda enjoying it unless it’s aimed at him. (He can’t fight verbally for the life of him without saying some cringe shit)

Doesn’t even try to change you. Dick knows what he’s getting into, and he loves you for it. He’s never going to ask you to ‘tone it down.’ He actually finds your unapologetic attitude pretty hot.

He’s 50% worried you’ll get into trouble, 50% impressed. But in the end, he’ll always back you up, saying, “She’s just honest. Get used to it.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Finally, someone who speaks his language. Jason lives for the fact that you don’t care what people think. He loves how blunt you are, especially when you cut through the BS with the precision of a sharp knife.

Gets protective when people try to push your boundaries. If someone dares disrespect you, Jason’s the first one to step in. “You’ve got a problem with her? You’ve got a problem with me.”, “Jason that was so fucking cringey..”

Appreciates that you don't sugarcoat things for him. You’ll tell him exactly how it is, whether it’s about his attitude or a bad decision he made, and he respects it, it’s like the tt sound where “that’s when it hit me, it was the best idea I ever had..” but like this: “Not gonna lie, that was a terrible plan, Jay,” and he’ll just nod. “Fair.”

You guys have the most chaotic, weirdest conversations. It’s a mix of witty banter, ridiculous one-liners, and deadpan sarcasm. Other people can’t even keep up with the energy.

The idea of dating a ‘good girl’ never appealed to him anyway. He thrives off your unhinged energy. You’re unpredictable, and it keeps him on his toes, which he loves. “Yeah, you’re definitely not boring.” (Although the thing is he does love innocent people, like if you’re like gen clueless he wants preserve your innocence.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s brain can’t keep up with you. Your blunt, no-nonsense attitude constantly makes him blink in confusion. One minute you’re casually roasting someone, and the next, you’re giving a straight-up critique of his latest plan. He’s learning that he can’t outthink you.

He admires your unapologetic honesty. Tim has a lot of internalized doubts, so watching you casually reject anyone’s judgment is a nice contrast. You don’t apologize for your thoughts, and it’s something he secretly admires.

Constantly second-guesses himself around you. Your sharp tongue makes him want to be as confident as you. He gets nervous about saying anything that might sound soft, so when he stumbles, you’re like, “What was that? I swear you just whispered something.” And he’ll blush hard, muttering an apology.

You both have a sarcastic sense of humor that others don’t quite get. You say something outrageous, and Tim will respond with the driest remark possible. People in the room often wonder if you two are joking or just genuinely a bit rude.

Not scared to call him out. When Tim’s too nice, you’ll be like, “You need to stop letting people walk all over you. Grow some teeth.” Tim won’t admit it, but that does motivate him to be a little bolder.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian is a bit taken aback at first. He’s used to people being respectful or like seeing him as kinda a role model, so when you come out with a “That’s dumb, don’t even talk to me right now,” he’s not sure how to handle it. He will stand there, blinking, while processing your bluntness. (He’s too stunned to speak 😞)

Genuinely respects your forthrightness, though. “I’ll admit, I have never met someone so… honest.” He starts respecting you even more, thinking you’re someone he can’t manipulate or charm easily.

Loves that you’re as stubborn as he is. If you’re determined about something, there’s no changing your mind. You’ll fight for your opinions even if it gets you into a heated debate. And Damian’s right there with you, arguing like it’s the most fun thing in the world.

Tries to match your bluntness. “You talk too much,” he says one day, and you immediately reply, “And yet, here you are, listening to every word I say.” Damian actually pauses for a second, impressed. “Right..”

Loves how you’ll shut down his critics with zero hesitation. Someone says something disrespectful to him, and you’ll be the first to shoot back, “He doesn’t need your advice, trust me.” He’ll give you a proud little smirk. “I like the way you handle things.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

At first, Bruce is a bit disconcerted by your bluntness. Bruce’s the kind of guy who expects people to be formal and classy, and you just come in with “This entire meeting is a waste of my time. I don’t care about any of this.” He blinks, then quietly admires your bravery.

Totally respects your unfiltered honesty. Bruce has had enough of the world’s games, so when you don’t bother to pretend or hold anything back, it’s like a breath of fresh air for him.

Secretly loves when you don’t play nice." He knows you're not afraid of saying what you think, and when you call him out on his brooding or overly protective behavior, he listens. “You’re right. I’m sorry for not trusting you more.” (He totally doesn’t have a tracker on your hair clip..🥰)

You both have moments of pure savage honesty that no one else gets. There’s no need for filters, and you’ll both exchange one-liners so dry that it leaves everyone else in the room confused.

Finds it endearing when you make his plans more interesting. “This is ridiculous. Why are we doing this again?” You snap at him in a room full of his board members, and he just gives you a look that says, “I’m never apologizing for you.”

[jellybell92]

Jschlatt Imagines

(Twitch couple edition)

I'm back with another installment of Jschlatt imagines for y'all! This time I'm writing a hc in which he and his partner mess with each other on stream. You know, being all cute and shit.

Pure fluff and targeted towards gn and/or fem readers. Enjoy!

One day, Schlatt calls you into his room and sits you down to tell you he wants to start streaming together.

You're elated because you realize your relationship has gotten super serious if that means he wants to show you off online

At first you do little things here and there to show that you're a couple, like use each other's headphones or munch on a snack that only Schlatt would eat (that one specific brand of beef jerky).

Chat catches on and teases you about it. You play dumb at first and pretend to be oblivious, but the signs are definitely there

You both decide to up the ante one day. With Schlatt's approval, you wear his NY hat during your stream while he's streaming too.

You blush and try to keep the bit going for as long as you can, but chat sees right through it. Eventually you give in and tell them that you live with Schlatt

Of course they go absolutely batshit and spam your screen. You decide to play Deal or No Deal in celebration. Amidst all the electric energy in chat, a TTS pops up and reads aloud:

jschlatt donated $50!

Give me my hat back bitch

You chuckle and smirk, running your tongue along the inside of your mouth.

“You're gonna have to take it from me, big guy. I'm not prying this thing off my head if it's the last thing I do. Back me up, chat!”

A wave of messages come in and defend your honor. You flip your hair back smugly, running your finger along the brim of the hat to show it off.

All of a sudden, a mysterious tall figure bursts through the door and starts shooting nerf bullets at you. You scream and fall out of your chair, curling up on the ground. Schlatt strolls into the room and rips the hat off your head, bending down and kissing you on the cheek. “Thanks, toots.” And with that he leaves.

Meanwhile, Schlatt's chat explodes as they connect the dots. He returns to his seat and dramatically places the hat on his head, observing himself in the camera and nodding. “Sorry, chat. Had to take care of some business.” He's smirking and laughing maniacally as chat screams over what just happened.

Ever since then, y'all's appearances have become more frequent. Sometimes when you're playing a game or reacting to content, Jay will open your door and throw Jambo or {redacted} into your room if he's had enough of them.

Y'all will have spontaneous nerf gun fights, whether they're on Schlatt's stream or yours. It'll end up with either one of you on the floor, panting heavily and begging for your life or with you running around the house trying to get away.

Your audiences eat up the moments that you're on stream together. They'll make thirst edits and TTS them, causing you to blush and hide behind your hands while Schlatt takes on a more extreme route. “If you do that one more time, I'm banning you, fucker?” He threatens. “Let's get one thing straight. No one can thirst over them as much as I can.” He cocks his fake gun and stares into the lens with a straight face, making you laugh. Oh, that's definitely getting clipped.

Sometimes when Schlatt is streaming, you'll bring him a snack or make him lunch when he forgets. You'll tiptoe behind him and poke his shoulder playfully (fully knowing that he can see you, but it's just fun to tease), placing the plate down in front of him. Sometimes he'll take it and thank you quickly, engrossed in whatever game he's in. Other times he'll swivel around and give you a kiss, encouraging you to stay for a while and hang out.

He'll plop you on his lap and point to the screen, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Look babe! I got a bullseye. I told you I had good aim." He winks at you and plops an apple slice into his mouth, taking another one and holding it up to you.

You take it in your mouth and bite down, muttering, "Yes, Jay. I see that. Nice job, baby." After a while of jokes and teasing, he'll boot you out of the room and his sarcastic persona will switch on again. "Moment of weakness for my person, chat. Alright, where were we?"

Sometimes when you've been streaming for too long late at night, Schlatt will TTS you with, “come to bed, stupid” or he'll physically walk in there and stare at the lens until you get the hint. You'll sigh and smile, glancing at him and rubbing your eyes. “Alright guys, duty calls. See you in the next one.”

Your viewership goes up steadily each time you stream with Schlatt. It was never about the numbers, but with the way your audience is so invested in your relationship, it makes you want to stream with him more and more.

It also makes living with him a lot more comfortable. Now you no longer feel the pressure to hide when there's a camera around. The tension that once lingered between you is gone, and now you can freely make content whenever you please.

[zylusmusings]

With backs facing each other, this is truly the furthest she has ever been from Toji. And while she's yearning for a warm and heavy arm to coil around her waist (the only way she knows to fall asleep), the residual anger from the fight after dinner stops her from moving any closer. The feeling has yet to dispel even two full hours of silence, none of this pair of lovers seem to be caving in just yet.

As great as a partner Toji is, he is still human and surely he'd say the same about her two. Two people do not have to be perfect to fall in love.

Tonight is an exemplar of the fact. Stubborn as mules, the two are, but still so suffocatingly in love with one another that there isn't a sleeping soul in the bedroom at the moment due to this foreign change in their nightly routine cuddles. Despite the comfortable blankets and fluffy pillows, the thermostat set just right and the muffled pitter patters of the night rainfall, none of them are able to fall asleep. An insomniac could be lulled right asleep tonight but she and Toji are both wide awake, yet pretending (and failing miserably) at falling asleep. Egos too proud and just as awake, screaming at the other, "I do not care that I cannot feel your breath right on my skin, that your warmth is the only thing that can calm my mind, that my heart is begging you to please give in and embrace me first."

45 minutes after they both had wordlessly gotten under the covers, grumpy expressions dressing their faces and tensions still as high as ever, she is still tossing and turning. And if not having her in his arms isn't enough to keep him awake, her body tossing and turning under the sheets every five minutes most definitely is. Paired with her quiet huffs of frustrations, Toji is more than well aware now that she hasn't gotten a blink of sleep either. They have five hours before the alarm goes off, and as the seconds continue to pass, it serves as a warning for these two with an eight hour workday tomorrow. Toji takes heed of this warning, yet his pettiness wins another battle of this tug of war.

She, however, has her patience running thin. As it grows thinner, her yearning grows stronger and she knows she's only a couple seconds before snapping... and she snaps ever so gently.

Toji has been unmoving, the complete opposite from her, so her pride makes the hopeful assumption that he has fallen fast asleep. Conflicted, she frowns as she lays on her back for the first tonight, her cheek pressed against the pillow to face him. How could he sleep so peacefully without holding her, yet she struggles wholeheartedly. He is so near, yet so far away.

Under the dim light, courtesy of the moon and stars peeking through the windows, her eyes map out every crevice of his back muscles. The longing only grows - she practically salivates at the familiar warmth she knows his body brings, how she wishes she could just wrap her arms and legs around him from behind like a koala, just like she always does on days when he's exhausted from a long day of work and all he wants is the warmth of her chest pressed against his back.

She struggles to make a decision between staying put and clinging onto him, her teeth chewing on her bottom lip as she deliberates. She then decides to find the balance between the two - simply hooking her pinky into the elastic of the back of his sweatpants. It isn't much, yet the tiny skinship from the area where their skin meet relaxes her tense shoulders immediately.

Toji takes the small win.

Grunting, he turns around to face her. In a flash, he turns her on her side and pulls her body flush against his. His arm is tight around her waist, and any other person would find it suffocating but ironically, she finds that it liberates her from distress. She only manages to get the first syllable of his name out in a yelp, before he hushes her.

"Sleep, ma. We'll fight tomorrow morning," the burly man speaks into her hair. He takes the opportunity to inhale her scent, and for a moment he inwardly scolds himself - he let his own stubbornness starve himself of this? He hears her huff, her body tense again (as if she hadn't been the one to initiate contact in the first place).

"Couldn't fall asleep with all the sheets rustling, just go to sleep so we both can get some rest," Toji grumbles, but he has a smirk hidden in her hair. As a final act of rebellion (or so she thinks), she meekly responds, "We'll fight tomorrow." Contrasting her words, she tries to impossibly move closer to him, savouring and gobbling up every last piece of him that she can get before their anticipated fight tomorrow, when she'll have to pretend that she doesn't want to kiss her anger to death against his lips -- and honestly, Toji just the same. And as if it still isn't enough (it isn't) she turns around swiftly to bury her nose into his neck. She finally lets out the breath she's been holding back.

His smirk grows, enjoying every piece of affection she is giving him right now. But truthfully, Toji is just as starved and it's evident when he pulls her arms to wrap around his torso, but not before he slips them underneath his shirt.. just like she always does, skinship prioritised.

With bellies finally satiated by mutual embrace and and the familiar scent of the other, they both yawn in unison, leaving them chuckling and giggling tiredly. "Not so angry anymore hm, mama?" He snickers, pushing his luck but immediately pressing a kiss to her head as if to soothe her anger from bubbling again.

"Shut up. We're still fighting tomorrow."

"Yes, we are. I still love you, though."

"I love you too, Toji."

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers EP7: The Boat Scene 'Do you want to jump or do you want to fall?'

So yep, joke's on me. I was so wrong about how this scene may unfold and the episode in general. Credit to Jojo for keeping me on my toes. I wanted to dedicate a post to this, both for the fantastic performances but also the great character beats here.

BISON'S RESOLVE FOR REVENGE

I kept wondering just how resolute Bison would be. I thought that if he saw how upset Kant was about him getting hurt, he may waver. But it actually seemed to have the opposite effect.

Bison is understandably livid at Kant. I think a portion of that rage is intensified because it's with himself. The betrayal cuts deeper due to his own negligence. He should have known better, and Fadel warned him as such. As the confrontation unfolds, Bison's steely resolve veers towards agitation and restlessness. A twitch. An itch beneath the skin. An almost defiant urgency to squash any margin for hesitancy or doubt - that the sooner this is over with, the less risk there is for him to have second thoughts. Khao does a wonderful job of trickling out only the tiniest of hairline cracks in that resolve, to keep us guessing.

Forcing Kant to jump could also be a test for remorse. 'If I tell you to jump, will you do it or will you fight back or even beg for mercy?' If Bison wanted Kant dead, he could have done it already. We see him consider all the brutal ways he could do so. And yet the one he chooses is actually the least hands on. Watching Kant enact his own demise seems to be a testament to something Bison wants an answer to: a confession perhaps. 'Are you sorry for what you did? Do you regret it? Do you feel bad for me? Was it worth it?' and most importantly 'Do you love me? Did you ever love me?' When someone hurts us, we often want them to admit to their wrongdoing. To take responsibility for the damage they've caused as it gives validation to our pain.

Kant is debilitated by fear, but he's also resigned to his guilt. It's been chasing him this entire time. So he doesn't deny or rebuff what Bison's saying. Doesn't try to deflect or swerve like he's done before now. Neither does he put up a fight for his life. He displays a bedded in helplessness, an acceptance that something you saw coming has finally caught up to you.

When Kant does jump, it seems to take Bison a second to register what's happened. The fact that Kant doesn't come back up. The realisation that Kant may actually drown and die. And he panics.

KANT LAID BARE

(This is my cue to gush about First's acting). I loved his choice of line delivery in this scene. How quietly he speaks. How small, tired, broken and subdued this makes Kant appear. It's such an unexpected but phenomenal choice. It provides a complete 180 to Kant's usual brand of flirty showmanship. That's isn't to say that version of Kant is entirely false but he's definitely been playing up the 'perfect boyfriend' bit. To be as smooth and charming as possible, and to say all the right things to win Bison's heart. This is the first time Bison is seeing Kant stripped of all that bravado. And what's left underneath? Just a man whose desperately afraid.

The sheer terror that First portrays here is so layered and visceral. He doesn't just capture that primal fear of death, but there's so much more you can read into outside of the little he does say. Underlying all that physical and mental torment is trauma, a childlike desperation that renders him completely at a loss.

He didn't have a choice when Chris threatened him to become a pawn. He didn't have a choice when it came to choosing between his brother or Bison. He didn't have a choice to walk away. And now he doesn't have a choice in how Bison wants his revenge. I've talked about the loss of control and agency with these two characters quite a bit, but this is the epitome of having your autonomy entirely stripped from you. Kant is both paralysed by his fear of drowning, but also by his guilt and knowing that he brought this on himself - having sealed his fate when he agreed to the job in the first place.

"I promise when you wake up, the version of me you'll see is the real me." What happens when you strip a person of all their defences? You get down to their rawest form. And now we're seeing it.

Thank god the pair reconcile next week, because this was absolutely agonising to sit through. Firstkhao have done it again, but did we really expect any less?

You can keep tabs on bird-inacage’s BL meta directory for my other long-form posts around The Heart Killers, which I’ll be updating in real time as the show airs.

[sevenangrybees]

YES!!! YEAS!!!!!!! I also think about Flamela yelling at Mithrun over the fairy when he first wakes up in The Big Shirt. She tells him to do his duty to the queen! The queen she fucking hates!!! I think Flamela thinks she's subtle when she absolutely is not. She tries to hide her resentment towards the queen out of necessity (in Queen Hemea's blurb in the new adventure's bible it says the Canaries report to her directly and Flamela's the Deputy, so having open personal beef with the queen would be bad for her job prospects, if not her survival prospects), and tries to cover them with very loud false patriotism. But of course, because she is Not Subtle, everyone who knows her knows she's full of shit.

Mithrun meanwhile definitely played the nobility social game before getting shipped of to the Canaries, probably after as well when on leave, and he was good at it! We see from Milsiril's extra that he was largely well regarded and "perfect" from her perspective. He'd have social skills! He'd know how to schmooze and leverage his family's wealth and status, how to charm people, and collect information and allies!

He has all the skills to be the perfect scheming mean girl at the office, but he can't be fucking bothered, and that makes it worse!!! He used to be the EPITOME of the parts of society that Flamela hates. He would have been her perfect rival, except. He just. Doesn't care.

She could back talk him all day, say shit that would get her court martialed by any other commanding officer to him, and if it doesn't interfere with his ability to delve dungeons, he does not give a single shit. No reaction. And that's the WORST because what she wants more than anything is to FIGHT, but Mithrun just won't (read can't) give her that, so she hates him even more!

And he's everything she wants to be: competent, able to pit himself against danger and prove himself, unaffected (as far as she knows) by the gossip and behind the back talk all around them. Like, of COURSE new recruits gossip about Mithrun, he's got a rivating, juicy, and mysterious history, butt once they get over that and his desirelessness, there's just not much to talk about. He's predictable, he doesn't do anything interesting or scandalous except get his seconds killed, and death's just part of the job.

Meanwhile Flamela's EVERY MOVE is probably subject to endless discussion because of her royal heritage, and unlike Mithrun (as she sees him) she's not made of stone!! She wants to be as unflappable and untouchable as he is, but everything she idolized about Mithrun is either something he hates about himself or a self destructive coping mechanism.

I think she's obsessed with him. I think everyone else thinks she has a misplaced crush on him and bullies him because of it, and no matter what she says no one believes her when she says she just hates him!!! Because she doesn't just hate him, but she's not gonna say that she idolizes him as someone who has everything she wants and is everything she wants to be. Both cause she not recognize those feelings it and because could you IMAGINE the field day everyone would have gossiping about that????

Ryoko Kui's characters make me go fucking rabid cause she knows how to imply so much complexity with so little. (I think about Mithrun's "I used to drink a lot before I became like this, and I acted poorly." so fucking much cause it implies he used to cope with his insecurities through alcohol and behaved in a way he knew was unacceptable, but did it anyway. It's so much fucking complexity added by a single sentence in an alcohol tolerance extra!!!) She really is one of the best to ever do it.

elf drama i just made up

[bugslaststraw]

See it's funny because in the games, and in any other assorted media before the movies came out, everyone low-key just hates Robotnik. And not even in the fun dedicated way like they all seem to think he's a bit of a failure. Which sounds weird if you don't know anything about Sonic (and certainly sounded weird to me three weeks ago when I was one of those people) but it really is just genuinely the case. I think?

Obviously his family all hate him. Movie-only fans will have an idea about this one; we've got good old Geralt Robotnik who didn't give a rats ass about him in favour of his long-dead cousin Maria, whom he wants revenge for. Geralt manipulated him and used him and said "oh Ivo you're no Maria" even though Ivo probably doesn't even know who the fuck Maria is in the movie universe and so on, et cetera. Geralt sucks just as much in the games and did approximately the same thing there.

What you may or may not know is that in one of the games, Eggman runs into a descendant of his from generations into the future. That guy's name is Eggman Nega, and he absolutely hates his ancestor. He thinks he's cramping his style? He's trying to go back in time and kill him to restore his reputation as far as I remember. Not to mention he has other family and cousins, none of whom give a flying fuck what happens to him. I distinctly remember someone who's name was Collin but who's nickname was Snively and who also worked with Eggman at some point, but hated him, and then later betrayed him. I can't remember a single family member of Eggman's that actually seemed to like or even tolerate him.

He's had a lot of henchpeople too. Most of them were robots. A lot of them, like Omega, and Alpha, and Sage to an extent (although she was more like a robot daughter he built for himself) betrayed him and joined the good guys too (Sage is another outlier, she isn't exactly switching over but she definitely isn't loyal either so.??) I mean, Eggman isn't even surprised by the fourth time. Smaller minions like Orbot and Cubot and their predecessors weren't able to betray Eggman, but definitely would've if they could've because they all disliked him because he's allegedly a shit boss. (Who says he isn't. He's evil after all.)

He "contracts" a lot of spies and stuff too. Animal characters. They all hate him as well, but he tends to hate them in return, so at least those are entirely fair game.

Not to mention all the villains he's conveniently happened to need the same thing as at the start of the game, but become inconvenient to towards the end, so they betray him as quickly as possible to get ready for their final boss fight with Sonic towards the conclusion of the story. There's more of those than I can count or care to remember. He meets his alternative universe self once and they hate each other. There's even a moment in I think the comics where Eggman loses all his memories and temporarily becomes nice, and hangs out in a village and builds things for the furry people who live there. He makes a wooden puppet style robot that also becomes like a daughter to him. She's good at engineering, just like him. Of course when he gets his memories back and becomes evil again she leaves as quickly as possible and later helps Sonic & co. She's very resentful about it all, I've heard.

None of that is surprising, of course. Eggman is an evil villain to the heroes and a loser to the villains. It's funny! It's a joke. They need to introduce scarier villains in the games to ramp up tension but they can't exactly just drop Sonic's nemesis down a hole somewhere, being as iconic as he is... So he sticks around. But as a joke, rather than an actual threat. And it's a little sad, yeah. But he deserves it! He's trying to create some sort of totalitarian egg-state and he bullies Sonic for having friends, for Christ's sake. Why should anyone want to stay loyal to a guy like that- and why should anyone do it at all? Joining the heroes is the cool thing to do! Shadow does it, Knuckles does it, Omega kinda sorta does it, Sage is toeing the damn line from what I've heard, it's...

Okay, it's kind of a lot? I mean I understand having nobody that's a good guy like the villain, but like... Not even his damn henchpeople robots? In a lot of the animated shows and comics he keeps building robot wives for himself that are explicitly created just to like him, by him. That or he's into someone who's into one of the animals, or similar. I mean, it's that bad. And it's like... Nobody? Not even once in like thirty years did anyone come up with the idea to give Eggman?? This behemoth among famous pop culture characters? A loyal henchman?

And- well, okay, nowadays this isn't true anymore. I'm sure we all know why. And that's kind of fun; in 2020, Doctor Robotnik gained his first and only loyal henchperson. Great! But...

Jeff Fowler is a Sonic fan, isn't he. Would he know..?

Would anyone involved in making the movies know that Eggman famously... Doesn't have any friends? That nobody seems to like him? That he's apparently infinitely betrayable? Do they know? Do they know? Is that why the third movie is written like that? Is it not just a character complex pulled out of someone's- I mean, when movie Eggman says that there's only ever been one person who actually liked him and one person who actually cared about him... He's quite literally right, isn't he. As in... Since 1991... Like 34 years since conception as a handful of red pixels in the hottest new platformer game there's actually, literally only been one character..? ooh I think I need to lie down for a bit

[riririnnnn]

To know that Sae doesn't think he is having any kind of fight with Rin and he, in fact, watches BLTV too makes me think that this post of mine wasn't that far from the tracks.

Yes, of course, he might not be watching BLTV solely for Rin and the reasons might also be Isagi, Shidou, Kaiser, and maybe even Lorenzo, Charles, Loki, and Noa. However, I just like to believe that he never stopped looking out for his little brother, Rin. And in a very strange way, I think he was looking out for Rin in that Snowy Night too.

First thing first, something was wrong with Sae in that flashback.

As the saying goes, "Eyes are the window to one's soul," he looks so worn out—miserable, in fact. And I highly think that around the time of this flashback, it hadn't been that long since he lost his dream—or maybe got his dreams crushed. And I got two reasons to think this way:

To repeat my words, he looks miserable, which is a given when you lose a dream, compared to his later appearance like in the U-20 match. And judging by the timeline, the flashback and U-20 match have 1 year-ish gap which is an ample amount of time to cope up and get a hold of yourself.

Rin kept close tabs on Sae through news and all. The younger Itoshi would definitely be the one, if not the first, to know that Sae was now aiming to be the best midfielder instead of the best striker. But..

...Rin didn't know shit.

Now, you might be wondering why in the world I'm focusing so much on the timeline, right? Like, Sae got his dreams crushed, then he return to Japan and confronted Rin—what's the big deal about it even if these events happened in a short amount of time?

...

And that's where you'd be wrong if you think this way.

We all keep forgetting that to be the world's greatest striker was Sae's dream first before he decided to share it with Rin. Sae has been playing this sport since he was one year old. Soccer, probably, came into his life before Rin did. Rin gave his teen years to this game, but Sae has nearly given his whole life to this dream.

Now imagine yourself in Sae's position. Imagine devoting your whole childhood and teen years to something only to not be able to achieve it in the end. Won't you be devastated? Won't you be a mess? Won't you need some time to collect yourself together? Now do you understand why the timeline matters so much? And why the timeline is such a big deal? Hm?

Secondly, Sae has never been a visibly sweet person, even to Rin.

Yes, Sae took care of Rin, but did we ever see him go, "Aww! My lil baby bro Rinnie! Cutie patootie! My baby bro <333333" Did we? He had always been rather.. emotion-less and blunt. After the above panel, too, his words were, "You can be the most amazing, after me."

He just has been like that.

Always.

That's why I have always believed that he never changed as a person, even after Spain. He has been like this from the start, which is also why I think that his harsh words in that Snowy Night was just another way of him looking out for Rin because guess who has known soccer longer? Who has gone out of Japan and seen the outside world's soccer with his own eyes?

Yeah.

In a way, Sae's dream had more weight than Rin's. The older Itoshi had soccer in front of his vision, meanwhile the younger one had his Nii-chan in front of his eyes. Despite being so focused in this sport, Sae just couldn't be it, so what makes you think Rin could've made it when his sole focus was his Nii-chan instead? Wouldn't have Rin struggled so much in the outside world with this kind of mentality?

And this is something, I think, Sae knew too—on that Snowy Night, he actually realised what Rin's real mindset was like and immediately knew that it just wasn't going to fly in the world stage. Sae was just saving Rin from the hardships he himself must've went through during his time in Spain—Sae was just looking out for Rin.

"What about those mean things he said to Rin?" you may ask, and that's exactly where the timeline comes into play—Sae was just a mess, and Rin's words were the breaking point for him.

"What words?" you may ask now, and these are the words:

Repeating myself, eyes are the window to one's soul:

Sae never broke his promise—Sae never stopped looking out for Rin.

[sorceressofthesky]

It's really interesting to me that in the sequence of Vander/Warwick's memories in S2E6, Silco vanishes once Powder and Vi are in the picture. We see Silco and Vander in the mines together, then Silco at the bar, then the scene from the flashback with Felicia... and then he's just gone. We see Vander with young Powder and Vi, but never Silco. I see a lot of people say that the Blisters and Bedrock flashback spoils Silco's character motivations, but I feel like this sequence is specifically showing us that it doesn't.

As detailed very eloquently in this post, Vander and Silco's promise to Felicia was never to look after her kids. Their promise was to keep fighting for Zaun so that her child(ren) could have a better future. And that's exactly what Silco did. His priority was always Zaun over anything else, right up until the last episode of Season 1. Meanwhile, Vander was heavily involved with the kids while Felicia was alive. Silco was presumably still a part of his life given that they started the bridge riot together, but Powder and Vi had become much more important to him, enough that his memories from that period favour them over Silco. It seems like Silco distanced himself from Felicia and her kids for the sake of pursuing his dream, while Vander tried to have both.

In Vander's apology letter, he blames his actions on Felicia's death, but I don't think he was saying that the mere fact that she died was the reason he tried to kill Silco. I think he's saying that was the catalyst for a decision that was most likely many years in the making. He tried to fight for Zaun and be a father figure at the same time, but Felicia's death was the turning point at which he realised that he couldn't have both. The cost of independence simply wasn't worth it anymore, now that he had so much to lose. So, he turned his back on the nation of Zaun for the sake of the kids.

It definitely doesn't seem like he regretted that choice in itself; but even in S1E3, he says that he has "never forgiven [him]self" for what he did to Silco, and I think that's where the "lost my head" part of the letter comes in. In the moment, he was angry and grieving, and convinced himself that killing Silco was a necessary course of action in the shift towards peace for the undercity - despite both being responsible for the destruction they had caused up to that point. He might not regret giving up on Zaun's independence, but he regrets the violent, brutal way in which he went about it. So when you look at it that way, Silco is the one whose ideology has always remained consistent, kids or no kids. Vander is the one who went rogue and broke his promise.

[beef-brisket]

Michael chuckled and sat in a nearby chair. He was obviously too tall for it, and the size difference was almost comical.

Michael: Now now, brother. Where's the fun in that? Besides, I doubt you'd hear me all the way up here.

Adam tensed as Michael's gaze shifted from Lucifer to him.

Michael: Adam. I like the new look. I had a feeling you'd be more bird like, it suits you.

Qdam: I- really? You think so?

Michael: Oh, definitely. And I see I have more nieces and nephews. I would have appreciated a card to inform me of their birth, but I don't expect such things of you anymore, Lucifer. Too used to your own company to remember anyone else.

Lucifer glared: I like to keep these things private, Michael.

Michael: Oh yes. I know. I trust the pregnancy wasn't to rough on you, Adam.

Adam: Uh- this litter was a bit bigger, so that was a struggle. But Lucifer was a big help.

Michael: As he should be. Well, now. Looking at your size, you should more than be able to carry a full litter. I'm assuming you two are far from finished populating the earth.

Lucifer: Brother, please-.

Adam: Far from it!

Michael smiled: Very good. I'm pleased to hear it. Your children are always so darling, aren't they? Now, brother. I've heard a few rumours through the grapevine I'm sure you would like to hear about.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow: Oh? What rumours?

Michael: ...Father is up to something.

Lucifer sighed: When isn't he. Is that really it, Michael?

Michael smirked: Aren't you impatient. And here I thought you'd want to know every detail and whereabouts of the man who wants to turn your children and mate into fertiliser. But no, I guess not.

Lucifer growled and crawled over to Michael, getting into his face. He rose himself to his full height, trying to intimidate his older brother.

Lucifer: Watch what you say, brother. Now, tell me what he's up to.

Michael smiled up at his brother, clearly not intimidated. Adam remembered that the first time he met Michael. As he left, his form changed into something more monstrous. It sent chills down Adam's spine just recalling it.

But he thinks there's more to Michael than he shows. He tries to appear more human, but Adam knows better. He always has an uncomfortable feeling looking at him. He's kind enough, but Adam can't help but feel there's something else just beneath the surface.

Michael: Oh, calm down before you make a fool of yourself. I believe father is planning on putting an end to your union with Adam. I've noticed a few things in the forest. The animals had disappeared a few weeks ago, like they knew something was here. Then, a few days ago, they returned.

Lucifer: How interesting, anything else?

Adam: Lu. Let him speak.

Michael: Thank you, Adam. As I was saying. A few days ago, the animals returned. Mainly deer and boars. Some rabbits. But their different. Their like a cheap mimic, and that mimic doesn't know how these animals moved or walked. I hunted a deer a day or so ago, and it attacked. It even started to change, but I killed it before that happened. It's not safe here, Lucifer. I believe father is making this location as deadly as possible, so when the time comes for him to strike, you and Adam will be outnumbered.

Adam: I'm one of you now- I can protect them, your dad shouldn't hate me now, right?

Michael sighed: I'm sorry, Adam. But father... he knows you were human. He'll see this as a mockery of our species. He's even gathering out siblings, Lucifer. Telling them lies about Adam, deadly lies. Turning them against him... Azael and Uriel are already geared up for a fight. A big one. They wouldn't tell me what was happening. It seems I've been shunned for the most part.

Lucifer: Shit... what do you suggest?

Michael: Well, that's the smartest question you've asked all year! You run, brother. Take your children, and run... but, at this stage, you'll be a danger to them.

Lucifer: I'm not leaving him.

Michael: I know. I wasn't directing that to you.

Lucifer slowly turned to Adam who was staring at Michael.

Adam: ...I'm the danger. I'm putting them in danger.

Michael: ...Unfortunately.

Monster under the bed au where Lucifer is a monster and "terrorizing" Adam?

And by terrorizing, I mean fucking. Grossly. Disgustingly.

Complete monster porn.

Oh no, are my kinks coming out again? Oh well 😉

🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Don't tease me with a hot au lol

Oh, what if Adam bought a new house and that's when it starts?

[p1n-p0int]

Honest to gods, I'm working on that that hc, but hear me y' all...

I have a "Ghost who's too closed off due to his trauma, doesn't talk about his past nor his work (the details he's allowed to say), and a reader who is desperately trying to save him from drowning in his self-hatred, and everything seems fine between them til the day before Simon's countless employments where reader pokes the bear too hard and Ghost snaps at them before leaving for the base" agenda running free in my mind

Like man, he loves you but the constant betrayals he went through, both familial and work related, before making him unable to let you into his comfort zone properly. Don't get me wrong; this man loves you to death and could do anything and everything, illegal or not, for you at the drop of the hat, but the thought of you knowing about his past? It sends him spiralling.

Thus why he doesn't see any issue in keeping you at arm's length and out of his business 'til the night before he has to depart for a mission.

You randomly begin to talk about hypothetical marriage and children you two are going to have one day. A happy life together you wanted for yourself and Simon... He threw you a side-glance telling you to drop it, he told you twice when you insisted on interrogating him as to why a loving family he could come back to from employment sounds bad... He has never meant to verbally snap at you the way he did - you backing away from his reach zone and putting a heavy kitchen table between him and you as an additional barrier, your brain was terrified of the man you were seeing in front of you. But it was not your Simon that was speaking, it was some twisted, traumatized soldier? child? part of him peaking its sorrowful head out, that much you knew - triggered his traumas. He couldn't hold it in. You pushed way too many times and his glass-like wall broke under the pressure.

When he was done ranting off to the grimy image in his head and looked up at you, scared of him, he bolted, grabbing his things and running out of your shared flat, not able to face you and the look on your face that's going to haunt him for the rest of his days. Because, sworn with a hand to his heart, he thought he singlehandedly ended the relationship there and then.

I don't have detailed route options for this one, but definitely, just like for Price, I'm planning for:

that hits all the raw points and talks about all the important topics of mental health, PTSD, self-worth and trust issues, you name it basically. A bit darker, with Ghost literally going through it to make himself better for the reader and first and foremost himself. (Groveling on his knees, fix-it route)

Ghost coming back from the employment, determined to discuss the previous fight with them, explain his side of view... Only to find the reader long gone from their apartment. (Angst route)

[discoursedumpster]

@puppypalice what do you think a Zionist is, though? Because this implies that there's some kind of Zionist organization or political party that people can join.

As far as I can tell, there are two different definitions people are using for "Zionist."

People who don't think Israel should be violently destroyed.

A specifically Jewish movement of people who love genocide in general, or genocide of Palestinians in particular.

But there's not an organization for either of those things.

You seem to be picturing the second definition? But like... what are they joining? The IDF?

I know they're not joining some evangelical megachurch that wants Israel to exist so that the End Times can come or whatever.

Because nobody is protesting those. They rarely even get mentioned.

I know they're not joining Hamas/PIJ/PFLP, despite the fact that Sinwar said he would fight until the last child in Gaza; despite Haniyeh demanding "the blood of Gaza's children, women, and elderly;" despite the fact that Gazans loathe Hamas for starting the war, routinely torturing and executing dissenters, and committing countless atrocities against them over the past 15 months.

Because at best, nobody gives a shit about Hamas. And at worst, they buy the propaganda that Hamas is "the Palestinian resistance." (Instead of the We Want To Live movement and the Gaza's Liberators movement.)

Are future historians going to be saying this about anyone who hates and opposes Hamas? Because that seems to be what usually gets Gazan activists, and Jews, denounced as Zionists.

If so, that now includes not only most of Gaza:

But also, the rest of Palestine:

That's from one of the co-organizers of the We Want To Live movement, who has twice been jailed and tortured by Hamas for organizing marches in Gaza.

He's only 24, and he's repeatedly put his life on the line for Gaza's freedom. And there is not one person in the pro-Palestine movement that will platform him, or anyone like him. Even Ahmed Fouad Alkhatib -- another Gazan activist, one who hates Israel significantly more than Howidy -- gets pre-emptively blocked.

Anyway, the context for the whole "they'll call them Zionists" thing was that the Hind Rajab Foundation filed 12 complaints against IDF soldiers.

Which does make it seem like that must be what everyone's going to be called Nazis for joining?

The Hind Rajab Foundation is chaired by a former Hezbollah member: Dyab Abou Jahah, a Belgian man from Lebanon who also:

founded a Holocaust denial group;

has repeatedly called for the violent destruction of Israel;

says Europe makes "the cult of the Holocaust and Jew-worshiping its alternative religion";

questioned the existence of the Nazi gas chambers;

and calls gay men “AIDS spreading faggots”...

...just to hit the highlights.

The article notes that there were no troops around when Hind Rajab was killed. Which is news to me, because I only learned about it on social media.

So basically, a guy who is at best a Nazi apologist started a group named after someone who wasn't killed by the IDF, but who he wants us to think was. And now that group is running "a campaign... to identify Israeli soldiers who have published videos to social media in which they commit, claim to have committed, or appear to endorse committing potential war crimes, and to file complaints against the soldiers on that basis."

@stoptheantisemitism blocked me after I said you can't just report people you assume must have committed a war crime. Because surely you can, since "they've posted themselves committing atrocities all over social media" or whatever.

But in fact, the article they posted literally says that the campaign includes people "who appear to endorse committing potential war crimes."

And no matter how despicable or disgusting that is, it's also absolutely fucking silly to be like, "Hey!! Sri Lanka!! SRI LANKA!! This guy who tweeted about wanting to burn Gaza City to the ground is in your country right now!!! Arrest him!!!!!!"

The fuck you want Sri Lanka to do about that??? He didn't commit a crime on their soil, and he's not a citizen of their country.

So I'm assuming you're talking about the IDF. But what's the point of saying that future historians will imply people were Nazis for joining the IDF even if they don't hate Palestinians? People are already calling them that today.

More to the point, it's not like there's a massive movement to move to Israel and get permission to join its military.

Is the point just to make sure we damn everyone in the IDF, whether they personally hate Palestinians or not, whether they were conscripted or not, etc?

Is the point just to call them Nazis?

Is the point to minimize the Nazis by deemphasizing what they did?

Because it seems important that Hitler not only industrialized mass murder and killed a peak of 500,000 people a month, but also:

declared a state of emergency,

seized dictatorial powers,

stripped Jews of their citizenship,

made relationships and sex with them illegal,

pressured white people to boycott all Jewish businesses,

and banned them from leaving the country without turning their property and money over to the Nazis,

none of which Israel has ever done to either the Palestinalsians, or its own Arab citizens.

like, I would assume that nobody is making a conscious attempt to minimize what the Nazis did. But it minimizes what they did either way.

[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

[moobloom-mention]

Every Action Has Its Equal Opposite Reaction

Summary: MK can't say he's ecstatic after being kicked into the ground during a sparring match with Macaque. It isn't too bad, though, as Macaque rewards him with noodles with the only caveat being MK finds them bowls to enjoy their takeout within.

But as he scrounges through Macaque's kitchen, the only two bowls he's able to find more resemble failed art projects than bowls. One more smooth and refined, the other far more clumsily made but with small engraved peaches and a fingerprint on its side.

Huh, that's kind of cute. Surely this won't lead him to bodily harm.

Content Warning(s): N/A

Word Count: Too many words 2963

Shout-out to @blametheeditor for helping me with the intro's fight scene. Goddamn do I struggle with fight scenes.

----------

“Ready?” 

MK grins. “Always-!” 

He nearly isn’t able to dodge a shadow staff that whizzes past him in time, not having realized they were starting now. Like, right now. He hadn’t even seen Macaque move and yet the shadow had already thrown the battle in his own favor. 

MK finds himself pinwheeling his arms in an attempt to remain balanced after his dodge, a desperate grasp for his own staff proving to be what keeps him from stumbling to the dojo’s hardwood floors. 

His teeth grit. 

Y’know, he would’ve thought that Macaque wouldn’t want to risk killing him during a training exercise of all things. And yet, nothing quite says “I want you dead” like forcing him into a vulnerable position whilst preparing another attack before he’s recovered from the first. 

...wait a minute. 

What little had been left of his confidence drains when he realizes why it’s likely a bad thing to see a shadow stretching out toward his feet. A shadow whose grin definitely doesn’t mean good things for MK. Nah, not in this sparring match. 

MK uses his staff to propel himself away from the looming shadow, twisting his body so he could roll safely back into a practiced defense stance. 

Not that he would ever brag or anything, but he avoids the possible incoming concussion flawlessly. Might he even say his defensive stance is something Macaque would’ve applauded him for if they weren’t mid-fight. 

MK barely catches the subtle shine of another shadow before Macaque erupts from it, his shadow staff raised over the head before being brought down. In the back of his mind MK can see that while the impact is devastating, it takes an awkward amount of time for the move to be completed. In the front of his mind, he can only imagine how the crevice left in the earth could’ve been his head if he hadn’t leaped away in time. 

Which, putting good news first, he isn’t knocked out! Bad news, his desperate attempt to save his own life had left his back to Macaque, meaning he’d more-so stumbled onto the ground in a flurry of limbs than truly laughed in the face of death. 

Far too aware he wouldn’t be able to stand before another attack, he rolls onto his back, yelping when a staff smashes onto the ground inches from his face. 

Heavens above, is he trying to kill MK or not? He thought they were cool! 

As Macaque lifts the staff above his head for another swing, MK forces his feet firmly into the ground, waiting until he’s about to be struck before pushing with all his might. The force pushes him over the incoming hit, a summoning of his staff giving him enough leverage to land more gracefully behind Macaque. 

When the next blow is delivered, MK’s own staff is there to meet the swing. Finally, some actual progress in pushing this match in his favor. 

Step, step, block. Step, step, block. The occasional near loss of balance whenever Macaque feints a left swing before making a right one. The loss of space between his opponent before he regains it when he makes his own feint of attack but only to withdraw himself slightly. 

It isn’t long before MK finds himself oddly confused amidst the controlled tempo of parried strikes. 

If MK could compare his own strategies of combat to a demon’s, Macaque could lay claim for his to be akin to a celestial warrior’s.  

They'd always looked refined and practiced.  

It’s why MK can’t help the nagging doubt that sits tight in his stomach when he notes the countless openings Macaque’s stance leaves. The monkey is pushing far too heavily into his strikes, making for slower recoveries despite the fast-paced match.  

It isn’t sloppy, but it isn’t the familiar polish of experience.  

A well-timed block forces Macaque’s staff into the floorboards of the dojo and MK lunges at the sudden opening.  

The faintest trace of disappointment registers in Macaque's expression before it hardens into something akin to disapproval.  

Oh fuck.  

Macaque’s staff reappears just in time to clash violently with MK’s own, the shadowed weapon’s surface wavering slightly. Dread tears through his skin; that waver isn’t from the power of his strike.  

That's the crumble of resolve and patience.  

He took an opening that wasn't meant to be taken.  

Despite the sudden change in tempo, Macaque’s redirection of power is far smoother than his previous strikes and the shadow’s triumph drains what little was left of MK’s confidence. 

Macaque’s lips twist into an ugly sneer and its familiarity in context strikes something primal at MK’s nerves. He’s done something wrong. 

His thoughts drown beneath the mantra that his stance is perfect. There isn’t anything for Macaque to hold over his head in terms of leverage, to use to turn this fight in his favor. His legs are shoulder width even while ariel and- and he’s using that one strike Macaque taught him months ago what could be wrong-? 

A tail made of obsidian fur wraps itself around his tail. 

“Wait-!” 

It’s too late. MK knows this game well. 

The tail yanks him forward. Straight into the boot that carves its home within MK’s sternum just as his lungs shriek. 

The sheer power behind the kick sends MK crashing into a beam, the wooden structure’s groan loud enough to smother his desperate wheezes for air. 

Between the spinning of his gaze his thoughts filter in. “Stay alert but regain your breath,” a prior lesson sings. “You can’t fight and gasp for air.” 

The shadows hiss with laughter and MK has to strain to hear Macaque above the pound of his own heartbeat. 

"...break something...the whole place will come down with it.” 

The original goal to recover peacefully slips through his fingers, rage a new fuel to feed into his fire. He stands if only to angrily gesture toward the beam. “You threw me into it!” 

“You shouldn’t have gotten cocky.” 

His eyes roll. Of course. 

“Don’t hold back, MK.” 

“You’re way too confident, MK.” 

Okay, guy. 

He’ll just go fight another city-destroying demon with his “too confident” strikes. 

As if able to read his thoughts, Macaque’s arms cross. Disapproval writes its own story between furrowed brows. “Don’t give me that face,” the shadow chastises. “You got bold and got it handed to you. Sloppiness won’t fly on the battlefield.” 

MK drops back to the floor with a huff of defeat. “Fine.” 

Macaque’s mouth curls around another word but MK can’t help the way his mind focuses on just how close the shadow’s crouched beside him. 

Suspiciously close. 

Like close enough that he could grab the other’s ankle if he really wanted to. 

“This’ll be a good stopping point,” the monkey hums and MK’s demand for violence rises slightly. “I’m getting hungry anyway.” 

Oh-ho, in that case- 

“I can grab us some noodles,” he chirps, using the staff as a pole to lean on in his scramble to stand. 

“Hold on, kid-” 

MK barely registers the familiar purple hue of Macaque’s clone before he collides with it. His attempt to catch himself does little to fix his accidentally slight. The clone looks disgruntled though its bag labeled “Pigsy’s Noodles” sits safe within its grasp. 

He smiles weakly. “Sorry?” 

The clone- whose grin looks a little too mocking this time around -thrusts the bag into his arms. It gives a short salute before a plume of smoke swallows it whole, leaving MK and Macaque to their own devices once again. 

“Ordered ahead of time; figured it’d be easier,” Macaque shrugs. “Now c’mere, I’ve been craving this all week.” 

Don’t need to tell me twice- 

The bag rustles as MK lunges to his mentor’s side, his hand already amidst an attempt to grab whatever Macaque had ordered for him. 

A loud hum interrupts MK’s interest, the bag falling into a shadow vortex before it reappears within Macaque’s grasp. 

If he didn’t know better, he would’ve said Macaque looked a little too happy with himself. 

“We’re gonna need some bowls. No offense, kid, but eating out of take-out-boxes is for slobs.” 

MK’s eyes bulge, offense blatant in the way his shoulders tense. His clenched fist waves, faux rage on his mind. “It’s not slobbish! ‘Sides, Monkey King does it all the time-” 

“My point exactly.” 

MK swoons to his left, clutching at his heart. He knows Macaque and Monkey King don’t have the best of history but if he doesn’t defend his mentor, nobody will. 

“Monkey king’s not a slob,” he protests. “He’s just…convenient?” 

“Kid, you don’t become a hoarder without being at least a bit of a slob.” 

…ok, fair enough, fair enough. Macaque’s got him there. 

Declaring this a loss, MK stands to fetch the requested bowls. He doesn’t go silently, feet dragging loudly against the ground with each step. 

“Cheer up!” Macaque calls, amused. “Moping isn’t gonna get you out of conditioning.” 

Nah, he huffs. It never does. 

Surprisingly, the dojo’s kitchen isn’t far from the main training room. It’s all the way down a hallway- one eerily lacking in the door department -where the space widens if barely to make room for a dark kitchen space. 

Flipping the light on, MK blinks once before the kitchen’s dim light flickers to life. 

Sheesh, Monkey King might be a hoarder but his kitchen has never looked half as disorganized as Macaque’s. Whether that’s because Monkey King doesn’t use utensils in the first place doesn’t matter in the long run. 

Monkey King 1: Macaque 0. 

MK’s careful as he navigates the small kitchen, minding his elbows as he begins to shuffle through the cabinets in search of bowls. Even just a step backwards is enough to press his back against the other countertop, a fact that sparks a fond memory of his own. 

The one- and only -time MK tried to find apartments to move into, Pigsy had insisted on accompanying him. It never mattered what apartment they went to; Pigsy always complained about the same thing: 

“The kitchen is just too small, kid. How are ya’ supposed to cook anything in this thing?” 

And so, MK had feigned ignorance over the true motive for Pigsy’s gripe and agreed that the kitchen space was a deal-breaker. 

After only a day of searching he proclaimed that finding the right place was in fact “too hard” and he’d just have to stay in the noodle shop for a bit longer. 

He blinks, forcing his knuckle between his teeth. 

Focus, MK, focus. Bowls, bowls, bowls- we need bowls! 

In all honesty, he thought finding bowls would’ve been waaaay easier than it’s proving to be. Each cabinet he opens either produces a bunch of items MK declares cannot be cooking related or a couple of miscellaneous plates too shallow for broth. 

At this point in his desperation, MK’s convinced that Macaque doesn’t own a single cup either. 

The only evidence that the monkey owns bowls in the first place is the handful in the kitchen’s sink, some still sporting old broth. 

At least, those and whatever on this green Earth was in the gap between the cabinet’s top and the kitchen ceiling. 

A closer inspection declares that the dishes seem like bowls, stacked on top of one another and looking like someone had hastily shoved them into the farthest corner. 

Oh yeah, this’ll work. 

MK nearly trips over himself climbing onto the countertops, eager to dig into whatever Macaque had ordered for him. Even on the counter the bowls are still too far back to reach. 

C’mon MK, you’ve got this. A little tippy-toe action never hurt anyone. 

An annoyed Macaque might, though. 

Much to his own relief, the two bowls are snagged with little to no struggle. He tries to keep his jump from the counter light; only the Heavens know how mad Macaque would be if he ended up breaking a floorboard by landing heavily on it. 

He peers curiously at his findings; now that he really looks at them, they aren’t really bowls at all. 

They’re more like poorly made clay clam shells, the indent itself shallow and its “lip” frilled in a way that wouldn’t be the best at sipping from. An attempt at pottery, MK concludes, but yeesh if its creator didn’t struggle with whatever image they were going for. 

One is definitely more refined than the other, surface smooth as he skims his finger over it. Its depth is just barely deeper than its counterpart too. 

The more disheveled one has bumps and bruises along its surface including a fingerprint and what MK is 50% sure is a peach engraved along its side.  

…it’s kinda cute, like its creator had tried to make up for its other imperfections. 

Still, MK glances back toward the pile of dirty bowls. They’d definitely be more ideal; one thorough scrub and they’d be good as new. 

That is, if Macaque has dish soap. Pigsy usually kept his on the counter but MK can’t see any even as he rummages through the cabinet below the sink. 

“Clock’s tickin’, kid! The food’s getting cold and we’ve still got conditioning to run through.” 

Ah, screw it. The misshapen bowls are good enough. 

With a quick rinse-off and a onceover, MK gives his own nod of approval before he darts back through the hallway. 

“Brainy kid to rescue,” he declares. “I found a couple of, uh, well-” 

Calling the lumpy things “bowls” wouldn’t quite be right. But then again, they definitely aren’t narrow enough to be failed incense plates. 

“-old bowls!” 

MK’s head lifts triumphantly, prepared for the resounding “-good job, kid/bud” © that both Macaque and Monkey King had gotten into the habit of offering. 

But silence only greets him, MK cracking an eye open to make sure Macaque hadn’t abandoned him. 

The shadow is right where MK remembers, almost eerily still. The only notable difference is the sudden roundness of Macaque’s eyes and the subtle childish spark of something that lurks there. If Mk didn’t know any better, he would’ve called it fear. 

“Macaque-?” 

“Where did you get those.” 

Gone is the witty banter that’d once infected the dojo, replaced with something far more sobering. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve assumed the drop in tone alone chilled the room. 

Tension lines Macaque’s shoulders, lips slightly curled just enough to show the tips of his fangs. MK’s never been bitten and he definitely isn’t finding out now. 

He falters, limbs heavy as he gestures vaguely toward the kitchen. “Uh, they were- the cabinets?” 

MK nearly jumps as a vortex forms just above his hand, the pieces of pottery disappearing into the shadows. The portal closes and MK flexes his hand just to make sure it hadn’t taken a piece of him with it. 

In a blink the tension in Macaque’s stance evaporates, movements once again fluid as he rustles through the bag until two tubs of broth and noodles are set down. He even grins as he produces two pairs of chopsticks. 

“You gonna stand there all day?” 

Is that an option? 

The nervous laugh MK coughs up only earns him a raised eyebrow, and he’s quick to take it as a signal of being in the clear. Despite the suddenly calm atmosphere he’s still slow in his approach, sitting a little further than normal from Macaque. 

MK shuffles his personal tub of broth and box of noodles closer to himself. It smells like Heaven, but that might just be how close MK actually is to death judging by the sheer fury radiating off Macaque. 

MK’s not sure why he waits to begin eating; he half expects another vortex to appear and produce two different bowls. Ones that don’t cause fear and anger to whomever stares at them. 

But the shadows stay silent and content. 

“Eat up,” Macaque grunts, already busy dipping his clump of noodles into the separated broth. 

“But I thought you said-” 

“Kid.” 

MK’s eyes snap to his tub of broth. He knows a warning when he hears one. If it were Monkey King he might’ve pressed it further, but Macaque’s limits are still new. 

Pushing it too far could cause a fight that MK definitely isn’t prepared for. He might be good, but he’s still not Macaque good. 

Who knows, the monkey could trap him in between two shadow portals and leave him “falling” for Heavens knows how long. MK’s shoulders shudder at the thought and he quickly grabs his own chopsticks. 

Macaque offers no further conversation as they eat, silence a companion in itself with how loud it feels. 

At least, silence and guilt. 

MK’s eyebrows furrow at the sheer amount of guilt that fills him each time he swallows a bite of noodles. He hadn’t accidentally gotten himself between a failed art-project, had he? 

…he had kind of implied that the bowls were terribly made. It would be as if Pigsy snooped in MK’s sketchbook and declared his drawings to look nothing like Monkey King. 

If not for the chopsticks in his hand, MK would’ve slapped himself. 

Good going, MK. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he murmurs. “You did really good with them.” 

There’s a beat of silence as Macaque’s expression morphs. His eyebrows pinch, confusion replacing the lurking fragments of irritation. 

“That’s sweet, kiddo,” Macaque mutters in a tone that says it isn’t. “But they really aren’t mine.” 

Huh. As far as he knows Macaque doesn’t have…friends. Er, at least anyone MK would categorize as a friend. 

“Holding onto them for someone else?” 

Macaque’s tail flicks and MK finds himself tensing, prepared for an explosion of anger. 

But the other only sighs, the final pieces of anger melting from Macaque’s tone until it can be molded into something akin to fondness. 

“Sure. We’ll go with that.” 

[hyperpotamianarch]

So, I have lately attempted to make it my business to collect Jewish alternate universe ideas, because reasons. I don't know if I have any interesting suggestions for your Jewkanda - @anon-e-has-a-tmblr's idea with the Samaritans sounds interesting, though even going back to 2nd Temple times they were separate from the rest of Judaism, so you should take them with a grain of salt.

The idea of Khaybar suggested by @ewfewgeg sounds interesting, and intersects with an idea I've been working on: there was a 16th century False Messiah who claimed to come from the desert of Khabor, possibly referring to Khaybar, who claimed there was a Jewish independent kingdom there. It sounds very promising until you realize the entire purpose of his journey to Europe was to get canons to help him fight the Ottomans, which doesn't sound like something a man from a super-advanced civilization will do. Of course, this is an AU, so you can change things a little or explain why he did what he did, so I recommend you look up David Reubeni. If you take his story at face value (which nearly no one does), it can probably help a little with this. He also has written his story and you can find his book on the Internet, but I'm not sure I recommend it as it starts with really weird stories.

How do you plan to explain their futuristic technology? An asteroid with (basically magical) otherworldly material, like Wakanda? Or something else?

On another note, I had my own weird idea about a Jewish hidden civilization - I realized that in most hidden world stories, the separation between the magical and mundane starts around the time between Gerush Sefarad and the Khmelnytsky uprising and all that followed (usually close to the latter). Which led me to the particularly odd idea of a universe were the Jewish people have decided to join magical creatures in hiding from the rest of humanity, as a result of the banishment from Spain. The rest of the world was convinced that Jews were only a myth, which might sound far fetched but: a. Christianity is so detached from Judaism that some Christians tend to not realize their religion came from Judaism, and b. It also sounds far fetched for elves to disappear around the 16th-17th centuries and everyone start believing they're legends when they were completely present prior to that. Oh, and c. The definition of magical and mundane is weird in a world where they previously intermixed, and hidden world stories raise a lot of questions on that point anyway.

Hello fellow Jumblr peoples

I have a question for you. Answer in the reblogs/comments!

If there were a Judeofuturist Nation (AKA Jewish version of Wakanda, Jewkanda....) How would it work? Where would it be located? Why or When was it created? What would society be like there? What are the people like?

... im totally not debating writing a short (or long form) story about it... totally not... (👀 ✡️)

EVEN IF YOU HAVE NO IDEAS, REBLOG FOR MORE INTERACTION PLS 🙏🙏🙏

[transrevolutions]

I know thematically Grantaire standing up with Enjolras is supposed to be the middle class rising up but I’m confused to how he got there. Can you point out the chapter where Grantaire changes his mind and embraces revolution? I thought he just rants, falls asleep and wakes up in time to die with Enjolras.

That's the thing! Grantaire doesn't join in the fighting, or help with the barricade during the battle. He does just rant, fall asleep, and wake up in time to die with Enjolras. But Enjolras isn't the only moving piece here, so to speak.

Him waking up in time to die with Enjolras is him embracing revolution. But it's not just (or even primarily) because "oh Enjolras was there and Grantaire is in love with Enjolras and has an innate brain buzzer that goes off whenever Enjolras is in danger near him".

(Explanation under the cut for length)

When Grantaire falls asleep, he says "let me sleep here- until I die". This is another expression of his characteristic cynicism about the whole thing- at this point, the barricade is not in immediate danger and things are actually going quite well with its construction. There's no solid reason to assume any of them are definitely going to die... unless you're Grantaire, who thinks revolution is just doomed.

When he wakes up, things are entirely different. The barricade has been overrun. Many of the insurgents are dead. The government has not been toppled and the soldiers have breached the tavern. When Grantaire awakens, he is explicitly described as immediately perceiving what has occurred ("the drunkard... is aware of how things stand"). All at once, he comes to the realization that the government has just killed his very close friends.

Another quote in the OFPD sequence goes "The fuddle of drunkenness, a kind of vapour that blinds the brain, dissipates and gives way to the clear, obsessive, sharply defined claims of reality". This is about literal drunkenness, of course, but I believe also about the nature of Grantaire's philosophy. All of a sudden, the man who previously "had no strong feelings against this government" is seeing and acknowledging just how horrible it is, and how standing against it is a necessity, not merely foolishness.

Grantaire has every selfish reason (which Hugo has earlier derided as being a flaw of the same non-revolutionary inactive subsect of the populace that Grantaire is posited to represent) to just. continue not to act! He could quite possibly fake sleep and save himself and twist these circumstances to prove his worldview correct and justified (that revolution will always fail, that it's not worth the sacrifice, that nothing can change, etc.)

But he doesn't.

He stands up and says "Long live the Republic". Not long live Enjolras. Not even long live the ABC Society, or long live my friends, or anything referencing solely the 'personal' losses he's just incurred. No, he says "Long live the Republic"- the greater cause. The ideological cause. The abstract principle which the others fought for, and which he'd so frequently mocked. He's not even purely reactive to his circumstances in this instance! He has an actual political conviction!

And then he goes and stands and dies beside Enjolras (who, for his part, has been fully on board with this cause since his introduction). This is the scion of the apathetic, self-serving, mind-your-own-business portion of the populace, and he is standing beside the representative of the involved, committed, politically engaged, revolutionary portion of the populace. It's foreshadowing of a possible- probable- inevitable future in which all gain conviction and take a stand for the freedom and equality of humanity.

[writing-till-i-am-dead]

Stargoth oneshot - Letter

It's not like Buddy liked Chase. He didn't. Honest, he really didn't. And you know he's being honest because he never lies... ok, well, he's lied a couple times.. actually, he's lied a lot. But he's really not lying about this. Because, what is there to like about this idiot? Because that is what he is, an idiot. Plain and simple. With his obviously fake blonde hair and forever-outside voice. The guy should just get the hell out of his way if he knows what's good for him. And that's what he's been telling him.

But he never thought Chase would actually listen.

3 weeks. 3 whole weeks since Chase has been in a book. This was starting to seriously piss him off. Where the hell was he? 

Now, reader, before you start getting ideas that Buddy actually misses Chase, you better think again. Chase has something he wants, the heroine key, and that is it. He just wants the key, so fuck off if you're questioning his honesty in the beginning. 

"Buddy?" calls out a voice, to which Buddy immediately jumped. But don't think he was excited! Or startled. He was merely jumped into action to follow it. However, he quickly realized that wasn't the voice of the blonde, but rather the even more unbearable brunette. 

"What are you doing with the heroine key?" Buddy asks, leaning against the stone archway. He looks around. Another high-fantasy novel with a castle. He's starting to figure out who's the one choosing these books in the first place.

Deacon whips his head around to face Buddy. "Geez. How do you do that?"

"Hm? Do what?"

"Just.. appear out of nowhere? Like you're teleporting or something?"

Buddy scoffed. This idiot really thought he was teleporting? As if someone could top Chase's idiocy. "You still haven't answered my question."

Deacon sighs. "Chase has been.. whining, lately."

Buddy scoffs. "When is he not?"

This got a chuckle from the brunette.

"You guys had some sort of fight in the last book you did together?"

Buddy raised an eyebrow and tried to remember. But, he and Chase would always fight, so he couldn't remember any of the specifics. "Probably."

Deacon rubbed his face, clearly frustrated. Deacon seemed to get peeved with Chase a lot, which gave Buddy a sick satisfaction. Not because he's jealous, of course not. But because if the two don't work well together, it'll be easier to make them crack. Give him information. Stop trying to twist his words.

Deacon groaned. "Well, something you said seriously offended him and he's refusing to use Silver, and has been using Bronze, instead."

Buddy felt his eye twitch, Deacon noticing and taking a step back. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger."

"What did I say that could've offended him that badly?!"

"Hey, you know how fragile his ego is."

Buddy makes a light 'tsk' and puts his hands on his hips. "Well this definitely is.. annoying." Before you think I'm annoyed because now I won't see him, that is not the reason. It's annoying because Chase was a much bigger slip up than his ugly, freckled companion. Buddy can extract more information from him. 

"Tell me about it. We've had lots of trouble collecting narratonin now, since the heroine key.. yknow.. summons you."

Buddy raises an eyebrow. "Well, then. He must not be that determined to collect it, huh?"

"Don't talk like that, Buddy. You don't know. He's been telling me to use the key, as long as I go into different books. But I just haven't wanted to deal with you on my own."

Buddy nods in agreement. "I would rather rip my hair out then be alone with you."

"Look. All I ask is you apologize."

"Look," Buddy says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't even know what it is I said that is worth an apology."

"It was something about his singing, I think? And the narratonin? He gets really heated everytime he talks about it and then shuts down.

Ya, that did sound familiar. Buddy rubbed his temples in an attempt to remember.

"Snap and clap and touch your toes! Raise your hands, now body roll! Dance it out, you're hot to gooooo!!"

"CAN YOU STOP THAT!?" Buddy snaps. "You've been singing that tune all day!"

Chase rolls his eyes. "You are just jealous of my singing."

"Oh trust me, I am anything but. You're singing is like nails on a chalkboard. Grating and makes me wish I didn't have ears! You better hope you collect enough narratonin fast, before too many people are cursed to have listen to your voice and will never give you another chance to sing, even when you use the narratonin to make you bearable to listen to!"

....

Chase left the story after he said that. But Buddy hadn't sweat it too much. Why would he? They always bicker. But based on the look that Deacon was giving him, he could tell that he had screwed up.

"That's.. definitely too far, Buddy."

"I- How was I supposed to know he'd take it to heart?!"

Deacon shakes his head. "Look, whatever. You can't take back what you said and that's fine. But you can at least make up for it. Maybe write him a letter? The bedroom I woke up in the basement had a desk and some paper. Maybe go write something in there?"

Buddy raises a brow before tilting his head back. "Fine! Whatever. Only because of my own reasons, though! Not because I feel bad. Don't go and get the wrong idea!" he calls out as he enters back into the castle, bulldozing through guards.

"Move, move, Evil Queen, make way." He reads down the spiral staircase, twists and turns, twists and turns. By the time his feet hurt in his heeled shoes, he finally reached the basement.

The room felt all too familiar. Small, box shaped with a thick layer of dust on every surface. A creaky bed, about as soft as a rock, and blankets covered in bed bugs. This... was why he didn't really want the heroine key. Of course, he's still going to retrieve it. It's part of his job. But he will never use it. He's already got a crappy life. Why make himself live through another's?

He sits himself in a creaky oak chair, which gave him a few splinters, causing him to flinch. A small pile of thick paper and a quill with mostly dried out ink. But, still good to use. He wish he knew why his words upset Chase so much. Not because he genuinely feels bad, but because it would make this letter less of a hassle to write. He scribbles up in the corner of the parchment to check if the ink works. He then taps a couple of times in an effort to think of what to write. Buddy, despite all of his time dedicated to reading books, has never been good at words. Things never come out right and he always overthinks it, always adding parenthesis and commas to make his point more clear, out of the fear he's not being explicit enough.

"Dear Chase,

I still cannot believe that you let slip what your name was. You truly are 

I apologize that my words had offended you. I may not know what you plan to do with the narratonin, probably something stu. Your singing is really not that bad. It only makes me want to claw my ears off a little. I do think that you can have a big audience if you put your voice out there, with or without the narratonin.

-Sincerely, 'buddy'"

Buddy stared at the letter, questioning everything he wrote, but decided it was... good enough.. ya, it's not like Chase is worth that kind of effort.. 

He folds up the paper and stuck it into his back pocket. He looked up the staircase once more and let's out a long sigh as he made the long trip once more. Twists and turns galore with each step. The guards quickly moved as to not get pushed out of the way again. He found the ugly boy standing outside, waiting for him. He shoved the letter into his chest. "Here."

Deacon let's out a huff and nods. "All right. I'll see you later, Buddy."

Buddy simply just rolls his eyes. "Whatever."

The boy pulls out the Helper Key, wrapped around his neck, and the he's gone. Buddy looks at the spot where he had disappeared before mentally scolding himself for being so hopeful.

~~~~

It's not like Chase liked Buddy. He didn't. Because what is there to like about that jerk? He's an aggressive prick who does nothing but provoke him. With his incredible eyeliner and deep voice... He should just leave Chase alone. And that's what he's been telling him.

So he stopped bothering and has been properly avoiding him. 

Ho could he not? It wasn't the comment about his singing, although that had hurt, but the fact that Buddy thinks he's so shallow that being famous is Chase's biggest concern. And the way Buddy said it didn't ound like just a jab because he was mildly annoyed. It sounded genuine. Like her really thinks so low of Chase. Maybe Chase took it so seriously is because earlier in the day, before he said that, Chase had visited his mom. 

His moping is interrupted by a knocking at his door. He looks up and sees his cousin, Deacon, standing in the doorway.

"Where were you?" Chase asks. Deacon hands him a paper. 

"It's from Buddy."

Chase sucked in a breath. Buddy. Buddy!? Buddy sent him a letter? 

His heart was racing and his hands were clammy. No way. No. Way. Why was he getting so excited. Stop it, heart!! He pats his chest a couple of times to ease his rapid heart rate before he folded the paper open.

He scanned through the words, squinting as he made out some of the scribbled out sentences, and he finishes it off with a deep frown.

"What's with that face?" Deacon asks.

"This is kind of a crappy apology. There are multiple scratched out sentences that was just him being petty."

Deacon takes the paper and reads over it. "Hm. I mean.. ya, it seems kind of backhanded, but at the same time, since when has Buddy gone out of his way to do something like this i the first place?"

"You probably just told him to do it."

"Ya.. but what about the fact that he actually listened?"

Chase froze and looks back at the letter, feeling his face flush slightly. Damnit. He had a good point. He crumbles up the letter and was about to toss it into the trash, but stopped himself and instead tossed it onto his desk.

"Give me my key."

Deacon smirks.

"Don't smile at me like that."

Deacon quickly stifles it and hands Chase the key. Chase gets up ad grabs a totally random book and crams the key into the cover. The last thing he heard was, "Wait, not that book!"

Chase's eyes opened and the first thing he's met with is excruciating pain. He's impaled. He screams at the top of his lungs and standing over him is Buddy, whose eyes are equally as wide as he stares down at Chase. 

"What kind of book did you choose?!" Buddy exclaims, quickly pulling the spear out of Chase's chest, who's left panting and throbbing in pain. Buddy squats down and looks over him. "Deep breaths. The main character of this book has healing powers."

Chase tightly close his eyes and feels the gash slowly close up. He lays down in the ground, panting. "SHIT! I just needed to talk to you. Just my luck."

Buddy chuckles, actually chuckles, which feels like another stab to the heart, but kind of in a good way???

"You got excited to see me?" Buddy asks.

Chase scoffs. "I just came to talk to you about that letter."

Buddy goes quiet. "Hm. You seem upset? Was it not to your liking, your majesty?"

"Eat a sock," Chase grumbles.

Chase sits up, holding himself by his elbows. "What kind of book opens with the heroine getting stabbed?" Chase grumbles.

Buddy shrugs and looks around at the wasteland they were in. "Well.. what did you think of the letter? You still mad at me?"

Chase pauses before huffing. "Nevermind. I just wanted to say it sucked. I would keep avoiding you if it weren't for Silver, like.. begging me to go back to using her."

"Mhm?"

"Mhm!"

Chase stands up. Buddy does too.

It's not like they liked each other. They just had a story to complete. They just happen to.. do it together.

Shut up.

divider by @saradika-graphics